“A droid arm does not have the intuition, or the will, my hand possesses by birthright. Darth Vader once stood in front of me, stuck his finger in my face and warned me that disintegrations would not be tolerated, and I granted him that wish because I am that dangerous.” He opened his hand, “At least I was.”
Gar grabbed a pair of macrobinoculars from the console. He barely needed them. The unidentified ship, although small, was coming in quickly. Scarred and old it had taken multiple hits in its lifetime. The pilot was running from something or chasing something. Illegally. In both cases.
“Report,” Gar said.
“JumpMaster 5000. No markings.”