“Well that's just great...”

Gavon surveyed the ship's utility readouts, tapping firmly on the indicator lights above [b]REFRESHER STATION WATER MAIN[/b] flickering between a crimson and amber color. 

“So much for investing in quality amenities”. He sighed, a slightly irritated look on his face.

He'd acquired the [i]Enforcer One[/i], an SCT Scout Class light vessel from a liberated shipyard near the outer rim, compliments of the First Order. Since their ascension to military power in the wake of the fallen Empire, their reach knew no bounds, so much so that they had little trouble amassing large collections of star ships in every class, both transport and warships. [i]Enforcer One[/i] was an older Imperial model from even before Emperor Palpatine's rise to power, used generally for long-distance reconnaissance and quick escapes. It’s agile maneuverability, short range cannons, non-reflective exterior paint, and reliable cloaking drive capabilities made it a great ship to strike out and slip away unnoticed. But, for all intents and purposes, it was a ship designed to remain in the shadows of space.

In an effort to allow their Agent to focus on his appointed targets, the First Order assigned an EV-12 droid to pilot the ship, freeing up Gavon from any real navigational duties. The idea intrigued him, considering that his piloting skills were not as refined as he would've liked, so relying on a fully functioning [i]nav droid[/i] capable of calculating hyperspace coordinates in nanoseconds, deciphering ship codes, and landing without any incident wasn’t a bad deal. And, to top it off, the droids vocal modulator came preprogrammed with a much more appealing female voice than the default option. Overall, his suspicions continued to lay with the notion that his new employers simply wanted to keep a tight reign on their new asset.

It's all business, afterall, no matter whose side you're on.

“E-V, were those noted repairs made to the hyperdrive while I was on recon earlier?” Gavon asked the ship droid, it’s mechanical, tinkering hands busily pressing buttons and pulling levers for pre-flight testing.

“Affirmative Agent, the [i]Pressy’s Tumble[/i] maintenance crew was able to assess and repair the issue within 865.19 nanominutes. A rather impressive time” 

“Agreed, and not a second too late, as our targets were boarding their ship when I last saw them. Let’s get this can warmed up. I don’t want to be here any longer than needed.”

The Agent leaned back in his chair, a momentary thought of the last few days flashed across his mind. The [i]proxy droid[/i] who was initially sent by the First Order to seek him out was essentially a messenger, but the fact that it arrived at his apartment doorstep in Nar Shaddaa armed with a military grade blaster and a chest piece full of live explosives didn’t make the message any less threatening. However, it made the point understood: [b]Heed our commands or die.[/b]

Their instructions were clear indeed, as the ex-Imperial intelligence agent was once again being reassigned to work for the First Order, no questions asked, and under a clause that he would only receive payment upon completion of the job. [i]A damn Bounty Hunter.[/i] This wasn’t him at all, but he knew why the Order wanted him, and they knew he wouldn't refuse the summons.

The mission seemed rather cut and dry, which entailed him to seek out the listed smugglers, track their whereabouts, and retrieve stolen cargo belonging to the First Order. Gavon couldn’t help but snort at that last bit, considering whatever “stolen cargo” it was most likely belonged to someone else beforehand. But, at this point, it wasn’t his call to make. 

His thoughts, instead went far beyond that...

“I’m coming home soon little girl” He mumbled to himself.

The toughest aspect of his assignment was leaving Nar Shaddaa and his adopted Togruta daughter, Uriah, who was left in the care of his previous employer, Madam Z’noshe, until his return. An up-front payment of substantial credits went to Z’noshe for her assurance that Uriah had proper schooling, supplies, room, and boarding. He had his reservations about the blue-skinned Chiss art dealer taking on responsibilities such as that, but while in her employ for almost a year prior, he’d grown to admire the female alien’s moral stance on a personal and professional level. And besides, he had no other choice but to trust her.

“Agent TreVayne” Gavon suddenly snapped out of his reverie. “Sir, scanners are picking up the [i]Milano[/i] departing out of docking bay three and their pace is quickening.”

“Ok, E-V, take us out, slow and steady. Are the tracking modules calibrated and ready to be launched?” 

“Affirmative, we may tag their ship when in range. The units have a subspace transmitter that should allow us to track the signals in-” 

“Yes, yes, I know how they work E-V, just keep an eye on their ship please…”

Gavon pulled up a recent holomap on the console in the middle of the bridge which highlighted the various trade routes and coordinates that have been likely used in the last several months. After a few moments of studying the routes, he shook his head.

“It’d be foolish for them to follow these coordinates. I doubt this is where they’re headed. E-V, fire the tracking mods when ready. I’d be interested to see where these scoundrels bugger off to”.

“Sir, if I may, we are being hailed by [i]Pressy’s Tumbler[/i] command. I will open the channel now”

The channel opened up with the crackling of static, mostly due to the surrounding asteroid field interference, followed by a nasally voice on the other end.

“Ship with departure number 1925FW, please slave your navigations to channel 1925FW-2 for guidance to the check-point. Do you have anything to declare?”

“Negative [i]Command[/i], we’ve brought nothing aboard, however your maintenance crew did repair a minor engine malfunction we incurred during our travels. It’s been logged in your system I assure you.”

The Agent half-smiled. Since this particular station was run by the First Order, a series of access “release codes” were given to him based on various sectors of the galaxy, essentially lowering any red flags or allowing passage in and out of occupied territory. They would know soon enough that he was an [i]Agent[/i] of their masters. Gavon punched in the fifteen-digit alphanumeric code into the console and sent it back to Command. 

“Sir, the Milano is within range. Four targeting modules have been fired away and locked onto the target.”

Gavon leaned against the navigation console, allowing a heavy breath to escape his lungs, before focusing his sights on the large freighter-class ship known as the Milano.

“Ok scumbags. Check. Your move”