EXT. SPACE
Out in some region of deep, rarely-traversed space, a ship drops out of hyperspace. This ship is the Deliverer, a Venator-class star defender; a hastily-recommissioned junker that was retired before the end of the Second Clone War, it still bears the colours of the old Republic Navy along with many of the battle scars acquired during its last, long-forgotten fight.
From the open docking bay of the star defender come dozens of hyperspace jump pods, all containing dormant probe droids. Falling away from their mothership, they scatter in all directions, each leaping into hyperspace towards a different region of the galaxy.
INT. DELIVERER/BRIDGE
Within the ramshackle bridge of the Deliverer, Admiral Bail Organa of Alderaan sits at his post upon the command chair, his left arm in a heavy cast and a determined expression set hard on his face. Standing at his side is, as always, Commander Raia Vaness.
BAIL: Ensign Wessel, report.
Ensign Wessel -- a short, slim Devaronian -- pivots around in his seat to face the admiral.
ENS. WESSEL: Pods are away, Admeeral.
Bail simply nods in reply, then presses a button set in the arm of his chair.
BAIL: What's the word, Bonney? Can we make another jump soon?
INT. DELIVERER/ACCESS TUBE
Within one the ship's many access tubes, Bonney, the ship's engineer, is busy working on repairing damaged connections responsible for the operation of the star defender's hyperdrive. A lanky lepi with big feet and hands, blue-green fur, long, drooping ears, and prominent buck teeth, he's a comical sight to behold.
BONNEY: You're gonna have to hold your eopies again, Bail. This clunker's not going anywhere for at least nine hours and a half.
INT. DELIVERER/BRIDGE
BAIL: I thought you'd've reached 47% efficiency by now.
INT. DELIVERER/ACCESS TUBE
BONNEY: By the Holy Hutch, man, I'm an engineer, not a Sorcerer of Tund! It's a royal mess in here! When those bloody 'Wrights made sure the hyperdrive was functional, that's all they made sure of -- they didn't bother checking to see if any of the connections or circuits responsible for synching the hyperdrive to the main computer themselves were in order. It'll take me another week before I've made enough repairs to get her working at even half the peak of efficiency.
INT. DELIVERER/BRIDGE
BAIL: (sighs) Alright, Bonney, I'll leave you to your work.
Bail presses the button in his chair arm, severing the connection with Bonney.
CMDR. VANESS: Another long wait, I see.
BAIL: When I asked for this assignment, I assumed they were going to take me seriously. But what do they do? They stick us with a decaying old star defender that was decommissioned seventeen years ago, a star defender that can barely limp its way through hyperspace.
CMDR. VANESS: Resources are spread thin, Bail. With the Light Hammer undergoing repairs in drydock, this was the best they could supply us in such short order. Considering how low the importance of this endeavour is, it's a miracle they gave us this much.
BAIL: Tachi is out there somewhere, along with Lord knows how many others. The Mandalorians are up to something, and they have to be stopped before it's too late. If that's low importance, I do not want to know how bad things have to be to be considered high importance!
CMDR. VANESS: Bail, even if we were in a top-of-the-line cruiser with the highest rated hyperdrive available, we'd still be blindly searching the Outer Rim in the hope of stumbling upon the Mandalorians' hidden base of operations. It's a needle in a light-years-large haystack.
BAIL: They're out there somewhere, Raia, and I don't care if I have to go straight out into the Unknown Regions to find them, I'll get it done. (beat) I owe it to our people.
Vaness doesn't respond to this. The pain of losing so many of her crewmates aboard the Light Hammer is as evident on her face as it is on Bail's.