Open Terrain

**Having her arms pinned sent a sharp twinge of pain through her injured side, but she didn't react to it. Rather, she reacted to being in his hold again, and whispered a sigh that might have been an Ubese moan. Keeping this secret? That hadn't killed her. This did. Living with years of unfulfilled longing was nothing compared to the longing she felt, now. Now that the Commander had embraced her, now that he continued to tease her with touches, and torment her with words.

Zashyn leaned back against his armor plate, then tilted her head back to look up at his far-too-desirable face. It was just as she told him. She wouldn't leave his side. She'd follow him anywhere. Her lips parted involuntarily, the temptation to give in to mindless desire almost getting the best of her, but she gritted her teeth instead.

It was obvious Quinn was stricken by trauma and grief, and grasping for any escape he could find. She would not take advantage of it with the pretense of soothing raw nerves. She would comfort through protocol and routine. She would make this place tolerable for him, somehow, until help arrived.

She worked one arm loose, then brushed the back of her hand along his unshaven jaw. Her whisper was somber.**

"We'll bury them. Then I'll see if any rations survived, or if there is game to hunt."

*He just wanted to follow through with what he felt. But her speaking of burial and game hunting meant that they had to survive. Survive, Quinn. That snapped him back. He nodded and squeezed her hand then stepped back and replaced his visor. He solemnly walked over to where the bodies lay and began to drag them away from their resting places. One by one. Each would have a place to be. He'd brought them here, he'd done this to them. It was only fitting that he would pick out their places of rest.*

"Mass grave, I'm thinking. Should find somewhere that's not too open too. Keep them away from anyone who wants to rob their graves."

*He tossed her a shovel and they began to get to work. Making shallow graves for each of the men. Preparing them each a final resting place where they would lay...

A few hours later, after the final body had been buried, Quinn put the shovel away and looked about. The sun had risen higher in the sky and there was no sign of a storm in sight. It made things easier now. The bodies were disposed of. He didn't have to think of his mistake. He turned to Halfpint and tapped on his rifle.*

"Come on. Let's go see if we can find something to catch around here."

*He began to push through the underbrush of the forest. Branches and leaves crunched beneath the soles of his military-grade boots. The sounds of the forest echoed. Such a still place. A bird flew frightened from one of the trees as they went by. He slowed to a stop and signalled for Halfpint to do the same as he spotted a lizard looking at him from the tree. He slowly took aim with his rifle, not making a movement. The lizard stared at him.

BAM. The bolt struck the lizard dead between the eyes. He made his way over, picking it up in his hands and cradling it. Lizardmeat. Wonderful. Well, it was better than nothing. A nerf steak sounded really kriffing good right about now but he couldn't think of any nerf within the vicinity. He gestured to Zashyn then pointed at another lizard lurking in the trees. He sat down on a trunk and waited for her to do her part.

Hunt.*

*Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. Small game. They were fortunate to have it, but she would have preferred something with a little more substance to it. The Commander's sharp eyes spotted them before she could, but then that was his talent. Hers was stealth and precision, almost worthless in this environment.

Her arms and chest ached from the vigorous digging, but not to the point that it hindered her from raising her hand blaster. Her DC-15A would be too powerful. She didn't want to blow the creature to pieces. The lizard looked up sharply, sensing the threat. The bolt burned a hole into its neck and dropped it from the tree.

She glanced back at Quinn, a smug smile forming beneath the helmet. Wordless ribbing.

Zashyn collected the lizard and hooked it to her weapons belt.*

"Back to camp, jungleman?"

*He put the lizard on his own belt and took off his helmet. It was starting to get really hot with the sun for some reason. Probably the combination of working and hunting made him sweat and the AC on his suit wasn't doing anything to help. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and smiled at Loross.*

"Jungle man? that's a new one. "

*He slung the lizard to his own belt and headed back towards the base camp they'd set up. His stomach was growling and he wanted to get some food in there quickly. He also wanted to get out of this armor. It was starting to get really sweaty with all the work they'd been doing on the graves during the morning. They made it back to camp quickly. THe sun was boiling overhead and he was happy to have some shade in the trees as he began to build a fire. He took off the top of his armor and set it down. Stripping away the top of his bodygloe so that his skin was bare to the sun. It felt nice on his chest to feel the warmth. He stretched the sore muscles in his arms as he set up the firestarters and impaled the lizard on a spit to roast.*

"Mm. Lizard. My favorite. That's one of the things I don't like about this area: not enough big game to hunt. Hopefully we can find something bigger tomorrow."

*A broodiness was settling over him. Not a depression. More like a resignation to his fate. But he was still determined to keep them alive. If they had to press on to get food, so be it. So far, the safest place was near the crashed ships and their beacon but if they had to move, they had to move. Although they had picked out the most secure location away from civilization. That was turning out to be more of a problem than anything.

And then there was the problem of his craving of her skin. It was like, all this time without thinking of a woman and now it was stuck on his mind. It was ridiculous and a little irritating to deal with. If it had been anyone else, he was sure he could've brushed them off. But not Half-pint. Not the trooper that was always quick, efficient and determined to get the job done.*

"You're a mighty fine soldier, you know, Loross. Just thought I'd let you know that."

*She nearly swallowed her tongue. Her legs wouldn't work, and for a moment, Zashyn was just standing there. She slapped her hand against the side of her helm to jumpstart her thoughts and redirect her gaze. What the kriff was that? She had seen bare chests before. None had made her forget how to breathe before, though. She sat to prepare her own spit, slipping a vibroknife free from her boot. She could never eat anything that still had eyes.

Though she could feel a trickle of sweat trace down her chest, the Ubese did not remove her armor right away. The voice box within the helmet made communication easier, for the time being. She would have to remove it to eat, though, in which case she would also use the opportunity to change the dressings on her wound. She was delaying it, though, too hyper aware of Quinn's state of undress. The anxiety was stealing her focus, and she was starting to forget why she was resisting the natural pull in the first place, which of course only made her resist all the harder.

She almost jumped at the sound of his voice, and her hands froze. Then, slowly, she placed her own spit over the fire.*

"I do my best, Sir. You cast a long shadow."

*But that wasn't really the reason. She had wanted to be in this squad under his command, needed to earn it. To be a member of the elite, you had to be elite. When she had first gotten her assignment orders, she could scarcely believe she had made the cut.*

*He watched as the flames began to catch onto the lizard-flesh. He didn't remove the eyes. He'd eaten things with eyes before, it didn't bother him. All he wanted right now was something to eat. He leaned forward in his seat, watching as each spark caught to a different branch. His eyes moved from the lizard to Zashyn, who was still in her blue-trimmed armor. The lieutenant seemed to be slightly distracted by her own thoughts.

Long shadow? If what she meant by that was a trench filled with his own sweat, tears and blood, then she was right. He was the youngest commander ever to take this role and he'd put hours upon hours of work. He'd kissed so many rear ends, he was sure that his nose was brown. He'd been in countless battle situations. This one in particular had been different because it was a training exercise. Nobody was supposed to die during those. Not anymore. Before, training for Commandos was done so brutally, people did die. But this wasn't just single squads: this was an entire platoon. He'd told them it was such.

But he'd made it here. Made it to the red stripes on his armor. It was truly fitting his armor was the color of blood. The blood of his enemies and his own.*

"Shadow? Thank you for the compliment but someday, you could be in my shoes. It takes a lot of work but you'Ve got the ability to far surpass my own achievements."

*His eyes caught on her again. He shook out his long dreadlocks with a flick of his head. Sweat flew everywhere and he laughed, wiping it away with his hand again. It was nice to not have to worry about who might be coming around but he kept his blaster close, just in case anything did happen. He polished it idly while the meat cooked. Lizard wasn't tender and took a long time to cook. A very long time.*

*Zashyn's helm moved left to right.*

"No, red stripes are not for me. I could not endure what you must on each mission."

*Zashyn knew she would balk to order men to their deaths, to send them to the line with the very real expectation of only some of them returning while lacking the capability of being there on the line with every single one of them where she might control the outcome. She much preferred being the one taking orders, leading her handful of troopers and doing everything in her power to keep the ones in her immediate chain of command alive.

What ambitions she did have, though, she did not elaborate on. Instead, she silently watched the commander through her visor, her posture military-straight despite the weight of the heat and the casualness of their environment. It was tension, not discipline, that kept her body stiff. The light of the fire reflected off his sweat-slick skin. Every time his eyes lifted to look at her, she shivered.

It was different than how he used to look at her, how he saw her before this exercise. Of course, she had never seen his eyes behind the helm before, but his body language had conveyed his feelings near enough. He'd accepted her as one of his own, one of his boys. They depended on one another, grew to be friends, grew to be brothers in arms. They shared blood, victory, and loss. But now, he didn't look at her as one of his own, but as if he needed to own her. There was a hunger there, a need to look and make sure she was still there. She recognized it, because it was how she had always looked at him. Only with her, the looks had been layered with guilt and conflict.

She had been shaming herself with her own feelings for so long, was she now only denying herself out of habit? If she pursued this longing desire, there would be problems for both of them, but it's not the biggest secret she has ever kept from the Republic. It was easy to fantasize, easy to think of those problems as remote and far in the future, considering their current dilemma.

Zashyn stood slowly, then crossed around the fire to sit next to Quinn, close enough to touch.*

"I need your hands."

*She leaned forward and pulled off her helmet, then piece by piece, removed her upper body armor. Leaning her weight on her uninjured side, she peeled away the dressing from the blaster wound where her bodyglove had been torn. Her body flinched.*

"Looks bad?"

*She could have said anything but those words made his blood boil with passion. Touching her again was exactly what he wanted to do. If she didn't mean it in a flirtatious manner, well, too bad. He looked at her wound as she pulled it off and winced himself. The wound looked nasty but not infected. His first aid had at least prevented that much from happening. Bogan be damned if he let her get infected from this. It was basic training to know how to treat a wound.*

"It doesn't look too too bad. It's nasty but not like it could be if it were untreated."

*He reached out and touched next to the wound gently then his hand ran up to her shoulder. Settling there lightly as he stared at her. Hand moving to her hair and running through each strand of the dark, tangled locks. Something about this was so different. So intimate. He put his hand around her gently, careful not to touch the wound and settled it against her hip.*

"Where do you need my hands, Zashyn? Tell me."

*A smile lit his face and his eyes shone. His long dreadlocks still fell across his bare shoulders, dripping with the sweat from before. It was starting to dry, finally, however.*

"...That wound should have been mine. It should have been me that took that shot, not you."

[quote="Rhyler Quinn":2iv360dz]
"Where do you need my hands, Zashyn? Tell me."[/quote:2iv360dz]

[narration:2iv360dz]A grin flashed and was gone so quick, it might have been imagined. Her knees turned toward his, her hip rotating beneath his hand. She lifted her own and brushed her fingers against his temple, but his next words made her green eyes blink and her mouth pull down at the corners. Her hand dropped as she emotionally withdrew again. Her whisper was harsh, in part due to struggling to be heard.[/narration:2iv360dz]

"It was blind luck. Talon didn't make it into ARC for being a bad shot, and he had all the time in the world to aim. I'm so relieved he didn't kill you, I could spit."

[narration:2iv360dz]The Commander would have been the more obvious target to take out, first. If she had not been taking a step into him, moving far too intimately close to him than what could have been predicted behavior for a trooper, that blaster shot might have found its true target.[/narration:2iv360dz]

"If he had hit you, I'm not sure I could have gone toe to toe against him. I might be a lot worse than just singed, Commander. Besides, I can take my hits."

[narration:2iv360dz]She pushed away from him and strode to her med pack with perhaps a touch of temper in her step, but it burned off quickly, as there was no real reason to hold onto it. The people she was hurt by were dead.

She shrugged out of the shoulders of her torn bodyglove and bunched it down around her pale waist. A torn strip of red fabric was crudely wrapped around her torso, tightly pressing her breasts against her chest to protect them from the masculine fit of the trooper breastplate. She crouched next to her pack with her weight on her toes and began to clean and redress the wound under her arm. It was awkward work, but she managed. Her lips were moving, as though she were muttering to herself.[/narration:2iv360dz]

*She flinched as if burned or pained by his words. Fierfek. He watched her as she took off, obviously upset by what he'd said. He had to let go of it. It was going to burn them alive if he kept going back to what had happened. He still blamed himself but he had to take it like a trooper. He was a Commander, he always knew he'd have to make tough decisions. This was obviously a bad one and the things that had happened ere beyond his control. So now it was time to bite the bullet and do what he thought was the right thing to do.*

*He stood up quickly and strode across the camp. Watching her take her body glove off and fix her wound. Ge walked right up behind her. He stamped, in fact, crushing the branches and grass beneath his boots with each step. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.*

"It's not your fault or my fault." *He took a deep breath and exhaled.* "It's just what happens. This happens all the time and I shouldn't feel like it's my fault and you shouldn't feel like it's yours. It's the past. i've lived through worse. It's taking away from something we've discovered and we both know it. Kriffing heck, you and I both know exactly how we feel right now."

*His hand grabbed hers and stopped her from doing anymore for her wound. He took the salve and began to apply it on. Kneeling on one knee as he did. Focusing on it, making sure he got every part of the wound. He had to make up for lost time. HIs other hand touched her face once he was all done and his eyes peered into hers.*

"I ask you again: where do you need my hands?"

*Even hearing his approach, she hadn't expected him to forcefully spin her around. It was the first time he had touched her as though she weren't going to fall apart in his hands since finding out the truth. It made her heart leap to her throat.

Her body locked up, unresponsive to her screaming thoughts as he held her, then treated her injury. Quinn was absolutely right, and he wasn't going to dance around them as she had, wasn't going to allow her to keep trying to behave as though everything was the same. It was exactly what he demanded from his men. Face it head on, acknowledge it, deal with it. He knew what she wanted. He wasn't saying no.

She took the hand that still had a layer of salve and curled it around her back. There was no fight left in her.*

"I'm not as strong as I thought I was..."

*Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned into him.*

"...Don't think less of me, Sir."

*She brushed her mouth against his, not brutal like before, but feather light.*

*Lips.

That was all he could think about was her lips against his. Everything dissapeared and in that moment, he pressed back with a fury he didn't know he had in him. Locked with her arms around his neck and his around her waist was like a dream. Floating on air, suspended on a cloud high in the sky. It was like nothing made sense anymore but this.

Fire burned deep and he snapped out of it before plunging himself against her. He lifted his lips to her ears just so he could whisper. It was hard but he managed it for a moment, almost chewing on her ear as he did.*

"You'll never be lesser to me, Zashyn."

*Military things would be so different now. He knew that if they got off this planet, he had to make her part of his permanent squad or something. Unless this was just both of them needing to relax but he doubted it. He'd made this rational decision in the moment. He knew exactly what had to be done and to press on beyond everything. He'd never done this before but there was no reason not to. Not anymore. Not after everything they'd gone throug. Brother? No. She was Zashyn, not "brother." Half-Pint, maybe. But Zashyn.*

*Everything blurred. That's what it felt like. She could no longer focus on anything that did not center on him, and that in and of itself was worrying. But it was probably something to do with this place, Quinn's native land. Between their isolation and the trauma that brought them there, it was no wonder he was all she wanted to think about.

Days passed under this tension between them. Though she felt more intimate with him than she'd had with anyone, she never seemed to relax. On the contrary, her anxiety seemed to be rising, her movements becoming more reflexive and staccato. It was the quiet, and the lack of action, and whatever it was that was building between her and the Commander.

She had been infatuated for years, but this went way beyond that. She had opened a portal to something that could not be closed again. She struggled to remember her place as a soldier and their chain in command, but surviving lonely days and sharing nights in a single tent made that increasingly difficult.

It was on the evening of the third day that something changed the routine. Zashyn was once again obsessing with the disabled long-range communicator amidst the wreckage. She slid the circuit board she had been fiddling with into place, and a brief, electronic buzz barked from the device before it fell silent again.

She jerked in surprise, then picked up her helmet and spoke in her raspy voice into the comm link.*

:: Quinn, did you hear that? I just picked up some interference on the long-comm. It was only a half-second of noise, but it had to have been picked up from something. ::

*Maybe coincidence from a nearby satellite? Or had a ship on their military frequency entered within range?*

*Rescue. The word was stagnant on his tongue. It had been three days since the upset and the devestation that had struck by the hands of the two rogue ARCs. Days that could have been months if they hadn't made sure to keep track of time. Kiffex was a beautiful planet and he loved being here but it was slowly beginning to drive him mad. Not that he minded the time alone with his Lieutenant-turned-something-more but...

Their relationship. That was a tricky one to put a handle on. Before, it was purely professional but you couldn't really say that now, could you, after long sleepless nights in the tent. Yeah. You really couldn't say that anymore.

He was making his way through the woods when his comm buzzed and Loross sounded excited. At least, so he could pick out. Three days wasn't long but he thought he had a pretty good grasp on what she sounded like by this stage. He tapped his helmet and responded to her as he picked up speed, going at a quick jog towards the camp now.*

:: Negative, Half-pint, but I've got no long-range on this thing, not like the dropships. Are you sure it wasn't just a malfunction in the electronics? ::

*Finally, some sort of realization for rescue. He hoped it really was them, coming over, but at the same time he hoped it wasn't. He wanted off this kriffing planet but he also wanted more time with Loross. Not that he wouldn't get it offplanet but how the hell would they explain things if someone figured it out? He highly doubted they would but who knew.

He made it back to the camp out of breath from his quick jog. He panted and took off his helmet, walking up to the comms device and looking at it. He looked over at Zashyn with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Could it be that their long awaited rescue was here? He smiled wide then pulled her in for a kiss before looking back at the comms unit.*

"Come on baby, talk to papa. Say something. Anything. Be our savior."

*A crackle or two then a voice. Staticky and a little choppy but it was a voice. A voice that cried out from the heavens. A voice that brought peace of mind to both of them.

A voice that sounded distinctly like a bored captain on a ship, sending what he probably thought was a message to a dead planet full of dead bodies and crashed ships.*

:: This is Captain Arien Vir of the Venator-class Assault Cruiser Reliant, contacting any Republic troopers on Kiffex. Repeat, this is Captain Arien Vier of the Reliant, please come in if you're there. Over. ::

*Rhyler let out a whoosh: breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Rescue. At last. A ship had returned to check up on them. He pressed the comms and spoke into it, crossing his fingers as he did.*

:: Captain Vir, this is Commander Rhyler Quinn, operating number TX455. My entire platoon has been killed and the only people left are myself and my squadmate, Lieutenant Zashyn Loross. Most of the bodies have been buried but clean-up of the ships is required. Over. ::

*He waited a few precious minutes as the time ticked by until finally it crackled again and an obviously stunned Captain responded.*

:: Commander Quinn and Lieutent Zashyn, prepare for dropship. Inbound on your location in ten minutes. And Commander? It's good to hear you're alive. We thought you were all dead. Over and out. ::

*The comm silenced and Quinn just stood there, stunned. He turned and looked at Loross then back at the comm then back at her. Was it really true? Were they going home? He pinched himself. No, not a dream. Then he grabbed her and hugged her tight with an iron grip and kissed her head, whispering into her ear.*

"It's going to be hell and a half letting go of you, Zashyn. We'll make it through this and I'll keep your secret, I promise."

[narration:di8dctno]It was what she had been hoping for. The sound of another voice, the promise of return to civilization. Though they were only forced to survive for a few days, practically a camping trip, it was the not knowing how long they would be isolated or when they would be found that was the real torment.

But now...now it was only going to be ten minutes? A few short minutes more of being her true gender? A few short minutes of being in Rhyler's arms, before...[/narration:di8dctno]

[quote="Rhyler Quinn":di8dctno][i:di8dctno]"It's going to be hell and a half letting go of you, Zashyn."[/i:di8dctno][/quote:di8dctno]
[narration:di8dctno]...it was over. She gripped the back of his neck and pressed her mouth against his, squeezing her eyes shut against the moisture that threatened to spill from them. She had burdened him with her secret, and he reaffirmed his promise to keep it, but how long would she be able to? It would be back to routine, back to assignments, back to injuries being treated by medical droids whose artificial memories could be easily tampered with. Would Rhyler return to being Commander Quinn to her? What if she never managed to see that roguish bearded face again?

It was not until they heard the distant thundering hum of a dropship's engines nearing their location that she released Quinn. She twisted her long hair into a knot and pulled the plastoid helmet over her face before the ship could get within visual range, then slowly began gathering her weapons and equipment with unsteady hands.

The promised ship crested over the treetops, harshly reflecting the light of the evening sun, and slowed to a hover above them. Zashyn's visor tilted back to look up at them. A few troopers were crouched over or leaning around the large open side hatch, probably trying to get the first glimpse to confirm that the illustrious Rhyler Quinn was, in fact, alive. Some of them raised their arms excitedly when they spotted them. She expected them both to be debriefed, individually, as part of the investigation into what went wrong with this training exercise.

She stepped near Quinn and turned to look at him as the ship lowered to land within the wake of the crash site.[/narration:di8dctno]

*The troopers were coming in their mighty drop ships, to rescue the knight and his maiden. What a wonderful thought. Except, she had her helm on now. She was hidden from the world beneath her coverings and now he was the only one who knew her secret. Oh, what pain that struck him then and there? He couldn't breathe, he craved her touch. He wondered if there would ever be a way for them to be together once again.

Probably not for a little while. Debriefing had to happen first. He looked towards her and then ran towards the drop ship, waving at the trooopers as they came down.*

*As the ship touched down, the troopers moved quickly towards Quinn. They talked excitedly, all at the same time and Quinn had to wave his hand in order to catch everything they were saying.*

"Oy, you're all talking too fast, soldiers. Speak again, slower and one at a time."

*One of the soldiers stepped forward and slapped the commander on the shoulder.*



*Rhyler looked up at the sky for a moment, his helmet reflecting the light of Kiffex's sun. He didn't answer right away, as he paused to reflect over the time that had gone. He couldn't quite capture it all into words, describe it all. He tilted his head back down and spoke only a few words.*

"The greatest tragedy of my career, soldier."

*He said nothing more, merely looking back at Zashyn, then made his way towards the drop ship somberly. He got onto the dropship and turned, looking at her and waiting. He held onto the grip above him, staring at her through his visor. He knew what she looked like beneath the white. He stared at every part of her through the plastoid. He knew he should probably set up a private comms channel for the two of them. They would need it. Force knew they would need it.*

*There were some murmurs of sympathy overlapping the bedlam of questions, but mostly just the ribbing chatter of men in arms dealing with the high run of emotions. Hands gripped her shoulder plate and jovially slapped her helm, expressing their excitement at finding anyone alive after having heard the reports that everyone was dead. Zashyn waved them off as she climbed into the dropship.

She paused next to Quinn. Even behind the layers of armor, she felt the heat between them. She wanted to rest her hand against his, offer what little comfort she could. Due to his rank and reputation, his interrogation would be far more difficult than hers, and the spotlight would burn on him for days. But, she resisted, her fingers curling at her side. She didn't yet know how small interactions between them would look in the eyes of the other troopers.

She turned her visor away and stepped behind him, reaching up with her good arm for the grip above her. Her back was to his back, as it so often was in combat. Safer this way. She could keep him near without betraying herself with side glances. As they were peppered with questions, she often gave a curt nod, or shake of her head, or a clipped one or two word response, but she was not yet ready to reveal the truth behind Talon and Judge. Thankfully, the troopers on board were excited enough that they did not seem to need her to carry on her side of the conversation, or else they understood well enough that something had happened on Kiffex, and the ordeal had taken a toll.

The dropship rose away from the terrain and climbed into the atmosphere. As the doors began to seal shut, Zashyn caught a glimpse of other ships passing by them, crews to help with the investigation and clean up of the site.*

*Storm winds ravaged the eight transport ships as they fought against the destructive weather in their descent. The blinding crack of lightning and rolling thunder masked their arrival in the near night-like darkness of the torrent. The two assault ships that accompanied the GR-75's stayed near, wisely interpreting that there was no need to announce their arrival under these conditions.

Once the transports made landfall, 500 elite troops and 200 commandos in white armor stepped out into the blustery storm. The green-skinned twi'lek's laughter was carried by the wind, her white and beige Jedi robes whipping about her legs and arms. Rain soaked her skin and dripped down the ends of her lekku.

She spun the hilt of her lightsaber, its deep azure blade glowing brightly in the darkness of the black-cloudy day. She raised it to salute the two generals that had joined her side. Understanding the signal, the generals wordlessly raised their close-fisted hands high to alert the troops to attention, then unfurled their fingers to indicate forward march.

Moving in the same direction as the wind, as though the storm itself had summoned them, Laele lead the front lines of the small army to rush the ill-prepared and unsuspecting city of Deadend.*

==MMC Mining Op==
*The massive storm brewing did little to affect the droids mining the planet deep under the ground beneath the feet of those on the surface. The mine was a flurry of frantic activity, but it wasn't due to the troops landing on the planet. No, the activity was due to the mining crew hitting a massive, rich vein of ore. The vein was starting to tax the MMP's ability to process all the ore being hauled up by the droids, but few of the workers were willing to order the droids to slow their pace.*