"Ahh…" The heavy sigh echoed within the ship's silent command room. "What do we do now?"
"We've already sent Y-3892 to find out," The Syndicate officer with seniority adjusted his glasses. "If it is indeed one of those spaceships, we'll follow our orders."
"What were they again?" The third and last officer asked. "We've been on this mission for so long… I was convinced they would never make it."
"We still do not know whether it is them or not." The senior grumbled.
"Who else would pass through this path? Only Mercenaries, and they wouldn't stop for a check. They would run for it."
The senior turned towards his junior and stared for a moment. He re-adjusted his glasses. They were issued to him by his higher-ups within the Syndicate. Despite not telling anyone, he was particularly insecure about his vertically slit eyes, a particularity of his race that he saw as an anomaly.
"Just sit and wait patiently, Z-9901." He finally sighed.
