The Baddest Schutta She Knows
The Corellia Bureau of Spacelanes and Registry wasn't much to look at, just a long hall of polished stone and durasteel desks, lined with terminals that hummed quietly beneath flickering holoprojectors. Citizens and offworlders alike shuffled in slow-moving queues, datapads clutched in hand, while a droning voice from overhead repeated, "Now serving kiosk forty-three."
Kayla slid her cowl back, jaw tight as she took in the sight. "Figures," She muttered under her breath. She had faced down bounty hunters, cutthroats, even creatures that could tear a man in half. But this, this endless tangle of bureaucracy, tested a different sort of endurance.
She stepped into line, waiting as a Dug ahead of her argued in rapid-fire Basic about cargo tariffs. When it was finally her turn, Kayla approached the official; a Bothan with spectacles balanced on the end of his snout. Before Kayla could say anything, the Bothan spoke.
"Form twenty-seven-B?" He asked without looking up.
Kayla arched a brow. "I just need information. Starfighter registry, dated around the end of the Brynn-Wars. It belonged to my father."
"Historical records require form twenty-seven-B," the Bothan droned, sliding a flimsiplast toward her. "And depending on the make and model, you may also need form eighty-nine-A. Assuming it was a military craft."
Kayla pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly through her teeth. "It was military. Galactic Alliance issue."
That earned her the first flicker of attention from the clerk, his ears twitching as he keyed something into the terminal. A faint blue hologram blinked to life, rows of coded registry data scrolling past.
"Name of the pilot?"
Kayla hesitated, the word catching in her throat. She hadn't spoken it aloud in a long time. "Kadan Ordo."
The clerk frowned, scrolling deeper into the archive. Then, after a long pause: "There's… a record. But it's restricted access. Flagged under sealed war records." He looked up finally, meeting her gaze. "You'll need more than forms to see this file."
Kayla's lips pressed into a thin line. The whispers of her ancestors, faint but insistent, stirred at the edge of her awareness. She could almost feel them urging her on.
"Then tell me," She said quietly, leaning in just enough for her voice to cut through the hum of the office. "Whose permission do I need to get?"
This was going to be absolutely insufferable, she could feel it.
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