As Ellara was walking the perimeter of the company compound, like she did every afternoon a particular dust cloud caught her attention. It was a large cloud almost two meters in width and double it in height. It was surely man-made as each second it grew larger then before. Normally, she would be excited at a moment like this. Who could it be? A customer, a vagrant, or maybe an enemy? But no—at this very moment, she could rule all of those out. She caught a red flash from within the dust cloud—there was only one person that could mean… Fareon. She slumped against the wall and thought to herself "Just gotta stay calm, maybe it's good news... Yeah good news." As suspicions grew into reality a red bike came to a standstill mere meters in front of Ellara. A thin, short man jumped of his oversized red bike and pulled his helmet off with force like he bought it just a size to small. Only to reveal some dark braids and sunken dark orbs for eyes. His grin gave it all away, It was gonna be anything but good news. It was gonna be Fareon news. Ellara narrowed her eyes and said "Spit it out, Why you back---Fareon. I neither see a package or a pile of cash, so start talking." Fareon pulled his best sad puppy and clutched his helmet in front of his stomach "Okay, you gotta understand. First, I dropped off Frods’ delivery of pellets. When I asked for payment, he said, ‘No problem, just hit the bar—Gwen owes me about that amount. Go get it there.’" Ellara grabbed him by the collar "By the Null, how many fucking times do I have to tell you—no payment, no package?" Fareon tried to worm his way out of her grip, but to no avail "Look, I did get a payment—just not in the traditional sense. That’s why there isn’t any cash." Ellara's face was like the red sun of Galasha "If you're going to say we have a job, I'm going to k..." "We got a job!" He yelled before she could finish her sentence. "Fareon look at what you're putting our poor president through she's gonna pop a gasket we can't afford to replace." Said a woman next to them. It was Morgan, She was tall and strong like an ox. Her orange overalls strained against her muscular frame. She grabbed a crate pulled under her and sat down. "So tell us about that job of yours. Look leader like it or not we don't really have a choice. we're not exactly liquid right now." Ellara sighs and nods in agreement. Ellara had a hard time understanding why Morgan was so fond of that rat in human clothing named Fareon. "Look Morgan is sadly right we're gonna have to row with what we got, so Fareon tell us about this opportunity" The three of them sat down as Fareon explained about the job he got from Gwen. She was supposed to deliver a couple vats of stout to the counts residence but her truck broke down allowing Fareon to take the contract, to clear her debt. Ellara rubbed her temples, her hooded eyes squeezing shut. The deep lines on her face hinted that she had long since passed the age of eighteen. "Fine it's good lets take OWL and get going on it. Maybe if we're lucky we'll be able to become her main transporter."

  Ellara and Fareon both went inside the derelict hangar and got changed into their iconic orange jumpsuits. The ill-fitting suit clung to Fareon’s small, slender frame like a bedsheet on a child playing ghost, while Ellara wore hers with a sense of pride making even the dirtiest of suits glitter in the warm red light of the sun. Morgan was fuelling the OWL up. "Dammit... you oversized trashcan" she muttered to herself as she kicked the frame of the ship hard enough to leave a little dent next to three identical dents. "Is the fuelling system leaking again?" Sighed Ellara. "Yeah and not even a little bit this time look, Dammit all that fuel wasted." Grunted Morgan "Can you fix it?" Asked Ellara "Of course but it's going keep breaking down if keep pushing this old bird like this" answered Morgan. She dove in her big tool chest next to the landing pad. Her legs poked out from beneath the tool chest as she tossed wrenches aside, her excitement building like a child on their birthday as she pulled out a plasma welder. In mere minutes, the leak was fixed using some loose plating from another part of the ship. "You sure the ship doesn't need that there" Asked Fareon nervously. "Well I'm not sure but I'm sure with leak it won't fly so yeah beggars can't be choosers." chuckled Morgan, her smile revealing a small gap in her front two teeth. Fareon always melted when he saw Morgan smile seeing her excitement always made him warm on the inside before he knew it, he was strapped in to the pilot seat and was doing the pre-flight checks. The rest of the crew got comfortable in their seats as well, Ellara at Fareon's right as his co-pilot even though flying was the last thing she knew anything about and Morgan on her seat in the storage bay. The OWL was an old Imperial gunship, its frame groaning with every flight—a patchwork of quick fixes and stubborn resilience. It had quirks, plenty of them, but somehow it always managed to stay in the air. “This is your captain speaking," Fareon said over the intercom, his voice laced with amusement. "A nice 18 degrees, no headwind in Eleysia. Get ready for takeoff.” Ellara shot him a look and nudged his arm. “Enough fooling around. Just get us to Erlisia so we can load the cargo.” Fareon grinned but kept his hands steady on the controls as the ship hummed to life. The engines rumbled, the frame creaked—a sound Ellara hated. Every time, it felt like the OWL might split in half before even lifting off the ground. But, as always, she was wrong. Within moments, they were soaring, a kilometer high and climbing. A tense silence settled in the cockpit. “I’m sorry I put you in a tough spot again, El,” Fareon whispered, careful not to let Morgan hear. Ellara kept her eyes forward, her expression unreadable. "Look, I know you're mad, and you have every

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  right to—" "Okay," she interrupted, her voice flat. "It’s like this now. Let’s just make the best of it.”

  Fareon exhaled, sensing the conversation was over. He let the silence linger for a moment before forcing a lopsided smile. “So, El," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "first time in the capital, huh? You’re gonna love it—massive towers, greenery everywhere, those Eleysian blossoms everyone won’t shut up about—” Ellara just nodded absently. Yeah. It was usually like this. Fareon messed up, and Ellara—or Morgan—just went along with it. Less than an hour later, the jagged mountains of Erlisia came into view. A smaller mining town on the northern border. "Unidentified vessel, state your name and purpose. Failure to comply will be considered hostile and met with force." Grumbled a high-pitched soldier over the general comms channel. Ellara grabbed the radio before Fareon could react, she thought to herself can't have him messing up again. "I'm Ellara Gelarra and I'm the owner of our vessel the OWL we're here on a goods pickup for the capital." Ellara squeezed the little radio so hard Fareon could hear the metal straining under her grip, she felt cold sweat forming on the back of her neck as she awaiting what the next words are gonna be of these officers. It wasn't uncommon for a underexperienced officer to be placed on these posts and for them to loose their nerve and shoot the vessel out of nothing more than suspicion. Several agonizing minutes of radio silence elapsed "you're cleared, welcome to Erlisia. Land on pad 15 in the eastern quadrant". The ship landed with a soft thud on pad 15, the engines settling down with a rumble. Ellara unclipped her seatbelt and shot a glance at Fareon, his grin still plastered on his face, ready for whatever trouble they’d walk into next. She took a breath and steeled herself. The mission was far from over. The ship landed with a soft thud on pad 15, the engines settling down with a rumble. Ellara unclipped her seatbelt and shot a glance at Fareon, his grin still plastered on his face, ready for whatever trouble they’d walk into next. She took a breath and steeled herself. They still had a long leg of the journey to go.