FORESIGHT and SCOPE: BOOK TWO

C H A P T E R T W O

FERN'S POV

"We are arriving at Ord Mantell." Tech announced to everyone. We all proceeded to gather our things and get ready to depart. I was in the middle of rebraiding my long raven locks and securing my grey bandana across my hairline. Once I finished, I hopped off the gunner's mount and reached up to take my new favorite piece of clothing I acquired from our shopping trip from Omega. It was an insulated, tan, bomber jacket with puffed sleeves that closed at my wrists and singed perfectly around my small waist. I zipped it halfway up, fixed the high collar around my neck on my black top, and flipped my braid to the front of my shoulder before helping Omega down and assisting in straightening the collar on her tiny, dark-blue, thin trucker jacket. I watched her flip her blonde bangs from her eyes — her hair had gotten a little longer since Kamino...

Afterwards, the two of us followed the boys off the Marauder and into town.

I have a confession to make.

Every time we return to Cid's parlor, tucked away in the seedy parts of Ord Mantell, I grow less and less thrilled seeing her. And ever since Kamino's destruction, we get to see AZI there as well, hovering around with his serving tray and repeatedly introducing his mile-long number license. Additionally, the droid consistently informs us how we are "displeasuring Mistress Cid" with our tardiness after every mission. As if we couldn't deduce that ourselves.

Upon entering her back office, we were welcomed with the usual: "Well, well, well, the space lugs decided to finally show up."

"Can it, Cid." I wasn't wasting time holding back my own heartfelt greeting. "Once again, you failed to give us enough intel to begin with, in which we take extra time to format a plan rather than 'improvise'. You know, so we all get out alive?"

"What's with the attitude, Prin—" Cid began to snap back when a female voice sounded behind her.

"Woo, someone's got a mouth on her, doesn't she?"

I craned my neck passed Cid and didn't recognize the dark-skinned woman lounging back in the chair with her boots propped up on the desk, drink in hand. From the layered blue headband that pulled back her thick, black, dreaded hair to the stylish leather jacket and boots, I deduced she was some form of informant herself, just like Cid. She seemed to be buddy-buddy with the reptilian woman or she wouldn't be allowed to sit wherever she pleased.

"And, who are you?" Hunter inquired, crossing his arms.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" The woman glanced up from her glass before rising from the chair. As she made her way around the desk, she spoke with bravado. "So! This is the top team you've been talking about, Cid? The rogue clones on the run from the Empire, huh?" She stopped in front of me with a deep smirk, swirling her drink in her hand. "How juicy..."

"You told her?" Hunter looked at Cid.

"Don't get twitchy, Bandana." Cid waved him off. "Phee's a friend. She's the most trustworthy pirate I know."

"Trustworthy pirate?" I raised a brow and crossed my arms, too. "That's a paradox if there ever was one." Phee's and my eyes met, and she made a disturbed look. I returned the gesture. She turned to Cid. "Aren't clones supposed to look alike? So much for quality control." She then proceeded to walk down the line of our squad. "This one's too big. This one's too small. This one's got a face tattoo. This one," She pointed at me, but before she finished her thought, I beat her.

"Will knock your drink out of your hand if you continue."

"Sheesh," Phee rolled her eyes. She then caught sight of Tech at the end of the line. "Oh, hey now." Her distained tone switched to a suave one as she stepped forward towards the intellectual clone. "Got a name, Brown Eyes?"