The moment Rax stepped foot inside of the old freighter he was obsessed with learning the ins and outs of the vehicle. As the transport floated towards it's destination, he rooted himself in the bridge and read every single report the AI had ever logged. From it's structure and modifications done over the years, the missions it had endured previously and the pilot's logs of their findings. Every minor detail was dismissed, anything he considered important was sorted into his personal datapad.<br/><br/>The ship was becoming boring as the information it had to offer began to run dry, the humming silence of the engines did not calm him as it always had.<br/><em>If you are so bored why don't you go do something productive...</em><br/>Rax's eyebrows perked, dismissing the sound in his head with a backwards wave no one else would see.<br/>"Leave me be...it has been a long time since I have been in space...it is like a home coming."<br/><em>Such feelings are those of a home sick child...just like you. </em><br/>"I count the days I find a way to get rid of you..."<br/><br/>The only way Rax would know peace would be if he found something worth devoting himself to in the laboratory, but H8 had a habit leaving traps for any visitors that did not know the psychotic droid. Activating the cameras from that side of the ship he caught the ending of a conversation between Damiana and the erratic droid. Like the rest of the members sent on this mission, he was not sure why he was the one selected to go along, but he was glad to pursue any new form of knowledge. The only information he had access to was what was in the ship's memory, so he did not know what to expect. Passing the air locked doors, he made sure to keep his weapon ready, the replay of the guard being beheaded was worth more than a good laugh. Entering the bay, he seared through the bladed trap and entered the bay.<br/>"Better luck next time H8"<br/><em>I am going to weld you to the thrusters and leave a trail of slag next time...</em><br/><br/>His hand tucked the handle of his orange bladed lightsaber into the belt of his outfit. Sitting down at the station he had claimed for his own, he moved to collect the precious spilled sanguine fluid the drain had emptied into the medical "waste". Luckily, for him anyway, they had plenty of travel time to their destination, chances he would be disturbed by outside sources were minimal. Within minutes he was scanning the blood with bio-meters, always searching for some miniscule evidence that would ironically explain why he was fascinated with the midi-chlorian counts of all species. He worked nearly gracefully as he reached for a panel to project the intensely magnified image on a screen. The voices in his head were silent or subdued by the research, a second panel logged counts as he began to take control samples for a experiment he had in mind.<br/><br/>