Trace Darsten jumped down from her X-Wing into what was possibly one of the dirtiest and darkest landing bays she had ever seen. Pulling off her helmet, she slicked back the whips of hair that had plastered themselves to her face during the ride and looked around. There was a number of individuals of various sizes and shapes hanging about and she quickly got the feeling that her presence wasn't welcome. Trace wasn't entirely surprised however and without preamble, tossed her helmet up into the cockpit and stripped off her orange flight suit to reveal her clothing underneath. Despite the humid air, she donned the brown Jedi robe she had stowed away in the back and locked the cockpit, trusting her aging R2 unit to keep an eye on things.

Striding purposefully towards the exit, Trace consulted her comlink and began the tricky descent to the lower levels of the city. She had been assigned to aid the refugees on Nar Shaddaa. With the war breaking out, Trace had held high hopes of earning glory in battle but was ultimately disappointed to be sent on what seemed to be a babysitting mission. Still, as a Jedi she knew it was her duty to help those in need and she wasn't about to dispute her master on the matter when she was so close to gaining the title herself.