“Might be kind of bad for morale,” Myrinda interjected dryly. She sat in a relaxed slump with the harnesses securing her to the bulkhead. Her helmet sat on the jumpseat next to her allowing her to run her fingers through her short red hair. Cool air was to be savored, in a few minutes she would be sealed in a suit on a planet who’s natives would happily vacation in hell for a chance to cool off.

She was calm, as she always was in such situations. It wasn’t that she wasn’t scared. She was plenty scared, but demolitions training instilled an almost automatic sense of calm. Her stomach might turn flips but her hands wouldn’t shake. It was an open question as to whether or not Blues considered her a greenie. She was new to the outfit sure, but she had seen action before. Her eyes drifted to Winoda, the farm boy was the only true greenie here at the moment, testament to rebel snipers and this being the command shuttle. There was no question as to whether the bossman considered her green. In the clones eyes, she supposed everyone was. The Sith knew what he thought of women in uniform.

The chrono clicked down another instrument and she checked her gear reflexively. A few more minutes and she would have to seal her helmet.