Tycho smiled lopsidedly. "It seems they had something in common then," he said. "My Alliance was a rebellion against the dictatorship of the Galactic Empire. We were successful in re-establishing a Republic but the fight, the fight was long from over." He sighed and shook his head. "13 years I've been fighting the Empire, almost all my adult life, and now, poof, it's all gone." He rubbed his hands over his eyes tiredly, and then gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he said, "didn't mean to be a downer."

Gwen's next question gave him a chance to steer the conversation back to less fraught topics. "Ah, yes, she's atmosphere capable," Tycho answered, correctly deducing the meaning of her question. "Really, there isn't a studier or better made fighter in the galaxy, in my opinion ..." He smiled fondly as he ran his hand down the X-wings side, fingers tracing over the impressive number of kill decals on the fuselage. "Nuke?" Tycho raised his eyebrows. "You can't mean ... a nuclear reaction can you?" His brows knitted together in confusion. "That's rather primitive and highly dangerous technology," he said. "I don't think I've heard of it actually in use in millennia. Proton torpedoes are much more compact, much safer, and don't leave any radioactive fall-out."

Tycho's smile was much warmer and more open this time. "Then Gwen it is," he said, extending his hand for a second shake. "It really is a pleasure to meet you, Gwen."