To date, the majority of Nykei's piloting abroad the Lucky Hand been inputting location coordinates and listing off upon approved vectors. No wild firefights barreling through space or desperate chases through the atmosphere. Just coordinate input and basic takeoffs and landings. Things any amateur pilot would have been more than capable of accomplishing. Nothing that required the skills she had developed as a swoop bike racer, and, for that, Nykei was content. So far the<i>Lucky Hand</i>had proven to be just that, lucky.<br/><br/>Jiljoo, the domestic servant of the ship, entered with sandwiches. Captain Kam had assured Nykei the woman was no longer a slave, but still, she stuck around, playing the role. Though, it was possible she'd known no other life. So Nykei sat stone faced as she spoke in her broken basic, blindly groping for a sandwich square as to not make eye contact. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the lekku teasing the captain's cheek, and his uncomfortable fliching away.<br/><br/>Did she realize he<i>hated</i>that? If so, Nykei's respect for the woman had increased exponentially. There was something subversive about the idea of a freedwoman playing the role of a slave and playing it purposefully badly. A sort of reclaiming of her agnecy, after whatever it was the slaver had done to her. Nykei didn't know, and didn't ask. In a way, she figured it wasn't much different than herself, pretending at an identify that no longer fit right. Reinventing it into something new.<br/><br/>"We are on track to touch down on Coruscant in 90 minutes, Captain."