The Small Hanger to the Trotsky opened, and a battered Scimitar flew in, touching down
with ease. a Young Pilot, jumped out of the cockpit and looked over his ship
Doubt I will be seeing you again.
The Pilot grabs his flight bag, And Proceeded out of the hanger bay. looking around, and judging
by where similar looking pilots where going, he finds his way to the recruitment office and finds
a seat. He was ready to turn on everyone and everything he ever knew.
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
