Like last week, class was in the Danger Shop, on a
Star Destroyer. Unlike last week, this one was boring looked normal. It was all metal and very sterile, and Jaina had been careful to make sure that anyone in a military uniform looked vague enough to not know their affiliation, because she'd been around the block with people from other timelines
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So thanks for that, Anakin.
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And that made her a little bit angry. Was that strange? Quarians regularly made a home for hundreds of their own out of ships meant to house an eighth of that population. It was beyond cramped, and personal space was nonexistent, but it was vibrant. Alive. And to have this much space, for so many people, and have it feel like this -- she could only imagine what the Fleet could do with a single ship of this class, and this just felt like a waste.
So maybe it was irrational for her to feel a little bit angry. She didn't think anyone could blame her for it, though.
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What. do. you. do.
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That didn't make her feel any better about it though.
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"But know this. If you delay me from enjoying a good drink or twelve," Frank said, taking a sip, "Not counting this one, you will know the full force and fury of the HMS Shippy Thing. So you have three choices. Join us for a good time, leave us alone, or be destroyed. This is non-negotiable. The only thing that IS negotiable is that I am willing to count that last drink as one of the twelve. And this one, too."
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