158.200 light-years away from Earth voyages of an elite force take place, fighting their own battles as they face some of their biggest challenges while the heroes we know and love are in embryo.
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FOREGOING
"I'M NOT SAYING YOU'RE biased–"
"Then I fail to see the problem," brushed Rola off. The glower connecting her brows in a crease was barely visible, but as of embarking the aircraft, it took Yon-Rogg no time to notice her displeasure. "We in the Starforce act professionally at all times. In this business that entails blindly trusting one another—whether it's putting your life in the hands of the other or reserving a seat at the table, it simply does not matter. I realize that you're relatively new to this whole charade, but this is an elite squad. If you cannot act your part, I suggest you leave."
She should not have but the urge was too strong and growing up in a house of disarray and disparate individuals, had taught her to never tolerate any kind of condescension hence her contemporary intentionally provocative words. The provocation came as second nature, serving as a defense mechanism, in times like these when all from hatred to excitement kindled within her. People telling Rola off always did do something to spark a fire under those swarming butterflies, having little care for what others thought of her even as she would speak the most ill-mannered affront imaginable. Nonetheless, harsh words were about the only thing she could do to display her vexation – other than, of course, exercise the extensive skillset she had been burdened with – seeming as she possessed no title, allowing her to go as far as benching whomever. Had it been up to Rola, Denn-Zel had never been given his spot.
"Okay, yes—you know what? I do have a problem with you–"
As it always turned out when she and Denn-Zel had found yet another thing to altercate about, the acting commander had to play parent. Admittedly, Yon-Rogg did, matter of factly—if even just a bit, find amusement in how Rola in the span of just a few moments could needle Denn-Zel to wrath. Although his mission commander title would never allow him to show, Yon-Rogg would often fail to suppress the slight curve tugging up the corner of his lip. Instead, Yon-Rogg would clear his throat and cut in, "what is this about?"
Close behind him followed Una the medic in suit, on his tail as per usual.
"I don't know how I can trust a loose cannon with my life," Rola let it be known.
"Should it get to the point, you might not have a life to care for."
"You got something you wanna say to me?" retaliated she, eyes burning with loathing, shooting a hard glare to her fellow sharpshooter, Minn-Erva, whose frame stood austere and naturally baleful by the seats.
"I don't wanna get across you–"
Crossing her arms, Rola's expression remained reserved as she interrupted with a sneer, "don't let me stop you."
"–all I'm saying, is that with your history regarding the Aakon, perhaps we should reconsider roles. Saying you can pull the trigger is easier than actually doing it–"
