"I have news for the forces of greed and the defenders of the status quo; your time has come and gone. It's time for change..."
- Bill Clinton

* * *

Aboard the Challenger

The canopy hissed, air escaping as the slight variance between the air pressure of the hangar and the cockpit equalised. A chill tugged at his skin as colder, space-exposed air replaced the body heat warmed atmosphere that he'd established during the brief flight from the Valiant.

A few days had passed since they'd tangled with the Empire; time for the convoy to regroup; for the pilots to recover and lick their wounds; and for what had happened to truely sink in. Many of the Jedi and technicians had ferried down to the surface of Lethe, a world in the Unknown Regions where they'd elected to hide briefly, in search of a reprieve. In the meantime, the commander of the Challenger had called a summit of sorts: pilots, marines, officers, and anyone else with the inclination or curiosity to do so had made their way via fighters and shuttles into the bowels of the Wheel's newest ship.

Jaden let out a low whistle as he tugged off his helmet, and cast his gaze around the cavernous interior of the Venator-class Star Destroyer. Though only a small freighter's length over a kilometre long, the iconic Imperial wedge was much sharper and sleeker, and it seemed the entire length of the metaphorical 'blade' was dedicated to being one enormous hangar. He knew of the craft from history lessons during training, and general knowledge of course; he knew that such ships were designed as the workhorse carriers for the Clone Wars, and could carry over four hundred starfighters. Consigned to one small corner of that space, the half dozen squadrons of fighters that the Challenger carried seemed like a mere drop in a vast ocean.

In truth, Jaden had to fight a wave of excitement. Though he'd served for a few years in the Stormtrooper Corps, his assignments had always been planetside; this was the first Star Destroyer he'd ever found himself aboard. He chose the thought carefully, clambering out of his cockpit and vaulting over the fuselage onto the deck. He couldn't help the grin that formed on his feet as his boots landed heavily against the durasteel plates. "Never set foot on a ship this big before," he explained to a passing knuckle dragger who shot him an odd look.

"You'll get used to it," the technician grunted, paying very little attention.

Expression fading, Jaden raised an eyebrow at the crewman's apparently disgruntled mood; must've been a bit sour, he supposed, about having all those extra fighters to cater for, without an infusion of ground crew from the Valiant as yet. For a moment, Jaden mused over how regular an occurance this was going to be: would the Commodore want to consolodate his fighters all under one roof, or would he be content to leave them distributed between the two commands? Jaden had to admit; given his personal connection to the Valiant and her crew, he would be a little sorry to leave.

Helmet tucked under his arm, and his flight gloves in the process of being tugged off his fingers, he strode confidently through the midsts of the landed fighters, eyes idly sweeping around the bay. A glimpse of something in one of the neighbouring chambers distracted him: a fairly unsuspecting YT-2000 at first glance but, on closer inspection, with those damage dispersal patterns, and that customised comm array -

Jaden strode up to the fighter in almost awe. His fingers brushed against her nose, tracing across the stylised paintwork that identified her as the Astral Queen. There were a few new scorch marks on the hull; a few new dents; and a few signs of the odd patch job here and there. But she was unmistakably his. "What the hell are you doing here, baby?" he muttered, softly.