Analysis

1

Hello there!

Welcome to yet another one of my stories! I hope you enjoy! From what I've written so far of this, just know there will be a lot of tension (of all kinds)

Love you all ❤️

"What do you mean, decommissioned?" Hunter demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Cody sighed, rubbing at his face. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm just relaying the information."

Hunter ran a hand through his hair and gave a little anxious tug at it. "How much time do we have?"

"It's not even finalized yet," Cody assured him. "They're just sending a data analyst to make that decision. Your next mission is to pick her up. She's on some Outer Rim planet."

"I'll let them know." Hunter gestured behind him to where the hologram of Cody couldn't see. "Can you tell us anything else?"

Cody grimaced. "Not really. But be nice to the analyst. She's good at her job apparently."

"I'll tell Crosshair," Hunter joked, although it wasn't really a joke.

Cody hesitated before saying, "I shouldn't tell you this but... Her file shows a lot of medical records. Most of her file is strangely classified so I couldn't see it all, but because you're bringing her into the battlefield I thought you should know."

"Great." Hunter groaned. "A clumsy civilian."

Cody grinned cheekily. "Have fun with that."

Then he severed the connection, and Hunter was left to tell the others there was a chance they would be decommissioned.

Amelia adjusted her glasses carefully as her body swayed due to the transport shaking. When her hand was free, she reached up to grab a handle to support herself. Her other hand was occupied with the singular bag that she was bringing with her.

"Nervous?" her supervisor conversationally asked from where he was strapped into his seat.

"No," Amelia responded, stumbling slightly as the ship rocked again. Her ankle rolled slightly and she winced.

Her supervisor eyed her heels. "Poor choice of shoes."

"Yes, sir." Amelia gazed at him with half-shut eyes. She was bored of this conversation.

In truth, the heels were dress code. As was the pencil skirt and the blouse with the ruffles. She knew better than to argue, though.

Her supervisor seemed to get the message that she didn't want to talk and thankfully didn't say anything more. Instead he squeezed his eyes shut as the transport dipped.

They landed a next to half a dozen ships and Amelia was herded out. Someone offered her a hand and she graciously accepted it as she stepped onto the dirt.

"There they are." Her supervisor pointed ahead. "I trust you can find them well enough on your own? I have a meeting."

Amelia nodded. "Yes, thank you."

He turned on his heel and marched away, already muttering something to a clone walking by his side. Amelia sighed and faced the direction he had motioned to and spotted the Omicron-class attack shuttle she had read about in her preparations. She began to walk towards it, cringing as the pain in her ankle flared to life.

The ramp was down, but no one was waiting for her. Amelia lingered at the bottom of the ramp before eventually saying, "Hello? My name is Amelia Kiklam."