“We’ve prepared a ship. She’s old, but outfitted with the latest drive. She’ll travel faster than any other vessel, including those possessed by the Alliance.”
Another sheet traveled across the smooth surface. Aden examined the ship’s specifications. Old was an understatement. The Balkan Three ceased production thirty years ago, and this particular model saw her first flight thirty years prior. The new drives were installed but a week earlier, perhaps in anticipation of this mission.
At least she’ll be fast, Aden thought. If she doesn’t rattle apart, that is.
A third sheet slid his direction. “Your crew was handpicked for this mission. They are the best we can spare at the moment.”
A mere dozen names resided on the list. If Aden’s memory served him, Balkans required a minimum of fiftee
