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Iridonia


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“Nice flying, but it's going to take a bit more than that…” Misal murmured as she took her hands off the Journeyman’s flight stick for a moment to toss away her veil and don her helmet. Now, just like the rest of her men, the Miraluka crone was another faceless, nameless, sexless operative whose very species couldn't be identified.

 

The elder Draygo took her shuttle into a steep dive and soon entered the planet's atmosphere. She turned to her side and shared a significant glance with her copilot, who promptly rose from his station and left the cockpit to go rouse his fireteam. What had been left unsaid, but was perfectly understood as the product of years of collaboration, was that Misal needed the four sapients who were standing by in the shuttle's passenger compartment to deploy without delay.

 

Hamis had been tempted to inquire about the risk of airdropping onto the clamshell hull of the transport while it was still in motion and with its shields intact, but thought better of it. A hundred little details told him that the shields of the Maturin would be down by the time he and his squad hit the transport--even if she had to take the Journeyman and ram it right into that transport’s engine cluster.

 

The dive continued, the shields glinting in the canopy as superheated atmosphere battered the wings of the Lambda-class shuttle. Misal found her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm along the circumference of the flight stick. The comm unit chimed repeatedly, indicating that the crew of that Corellian Corvette was attempting to hail her, probably to demand an explanation for accidental strafing of the Maturin. She let it continue to sound off and allowed the crew of sellswords tear their hair out even as it struggled to match her dive. Eventually, she heard internal speakers of the shuttle squawk and her collaborator rumble:

 

“Ready. Level us out. Three--two--one--sync.”

 

At that very moment, an alarm klaxon blared in the cockpit and Misal executed a snap-roll to level out the Journeyman; she had just been targeted by the Thundershrike. Even as the Miraluka released the shuttle’s boarding ramp and allowed her fireteam to spill out of the Journeyman, turbolaser fire lanced out towards where her ship would have been had she continued the dive. Her lips curled in a frown and her grip tightened on the control stick to continue the descending role--their ruse had clearly expended the patience of the transport’s escort. The escorting Headhunters broke by pairs and scrambled to drive off their tormentors; four of them turned to intercept her shuttle.

 

Misal opened up the throttle and held down the trigger, answering the torrent of fire with her shuttle’s laser cannons. Some of it struck her attackers, some of it struck the clamshell transport and fizzled against its shields.

 

Her fireteam would delay their airdrop and ride the winds on their repulsorlifts for as long as possible, but it was only a matter of time before they ran out of charge and they were forced to descend. If the Maturin’s shields were still up at that point… splat.

 

___

 

 

Within the bowels of the Maturin, an armored container housed the anesthetized body of Armiena Draygo and two mercenary soldiers who had been instructed to prevent the escape of their charge, even if they had to slap stun cuffs around her ankles and render her comatose. As the clamshell transport shuddered against strafing runs of ion and laser cannon fire, the sensors that reported her vitals experienced a miniature blip, indicating a miniscule rise in the heart rate and blood pressure of the captive Jedi Master.

 

The two guards had been briefed on the multiple escape attempts that Draygo had made; they were familiar with her record in the war; the exorbitant sum that they had been paid for the delivery of their chattel indicated the hazards this task. They shared a significant glance and seemed to reach the same conclusion:

 

Kark. That. Noise.

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It wasn’t long before the charade was up. Darex had always known it wasn’t going to last long, but when the Z-95’s turned to engage Misal’s shuttle, he knew they had determined everyone else to be hostiles.

 

He shunted some power from his engines to his shields. Z-95s were old and slow, but there were enough of them that they could easily overwhelm Misal’s group. Bringing his fighter around in a loop, he used the increased distance to open up with ion fire at the transport. It didn’t even matter that Xae’s shuttle was no longer between them; he had sensed Misal’s team dropping, and he knew it was now or never.

 

The Ace zoomed past the transport, and he swung the nose back around and reversed his engines, continuing to pour fire at it as he backed away, watching as his indicators showed the shields dropping a percentage at a time. Several of the Z-95’s were coming around on his tail, so he quick switched the engines back to forward. Using the Ace’s speed and maneuverability to dodge and roll, he made the movements tiny enough that the Z-95s missed, but that he could keep the transport in his targeting lock. Flying like this was merely an extension of what he was already familiar with; he made the fighter his lightsaber and wove it through the conflict in his accustomed configurations of Form III.

 

Finally, the transport lost shields. Darex sensed a flicker of triumph, and he knew that they had dropped just in time for the extraction team to land safely. He pumped a few more cannon blasts into the ship, ensuring that it would be going nowhere fast. It slowly began to spiral back towards the planet. They’d get their systems back up fast enough to avoid crashing, but by then, hopefully, the Jedi would have taken care of the escort, and they’d decide to land.

 

He zoomed close to the ship, and as he did so, he sensed a flicker of awareness. Relief flooded him. He knew that Force presence. Armiena was indeed onboard. It vanished again, like his friend was struggling to regain consciousness, and he let an extension of himself flow towards her, giving her an otherworldly boost of strength and encouragement. It was all he could do for now.

 

Swinging the ship back around, he headed for the Z-95’s. Time for some dogfighting.

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Misal Draygo gritted her teeth as her Lambda-class shuttle sliced through Iridonia’s atmosphere, a trio of enraged Z-95 Headhunters hot on the shuttle’s exhaust and blazing away with their triple blasters. During that suicidal head-on attack, her reckless fire had knocked out one of the antiquated starfighters and forced it to retreat with its sublights in a state of a smoking ruin, but even two of these little fighters were more than a match for her sluggish shuttle. Despite the unwanted trail of three starfighters, she pressed on with the shuttle’s shields shunted to the rear and draining power from her weapons. she couldn’t risk the possibility of one of the starfighters looping around and spotting the deployment of her fireteam at this critical moment--even with their heavy weapons and armor, they wouldn’t be detected unless one of the pilots actually eyeballed them, but even triple blasters would make short work of them.

 

“I’m okay, I’ve faced worse numbers than this,” the Miraluka found herself saying into the comms system, her voice unusually high-pitched and nervous. What she had neglected to mention, of course, was that while she and her team had triumphed against some absurd numerical disadvantages in the past, they had always been on the ground during these sorties. Another set of near misses buffeted the Journeyman’s pilot around and she instinctively strained against the restraints of the seat to confirm that she was actually secured.

 

Again, alarms blared within the cockpit, alerting to incoming fire from the Corellian Corvette. Misal spilled the speed of the shuttle and pressed downward to drive further, a beam of turbolaser fire blazing across the canopy of the shuttle’s cockpit that she might have been rendered blind if she possessed physical eyes. Misal cursed, but at least the Thundershrike’s eyes were focused on her and the other two ships harassing their charge. Still, that wouldn’t do her any good if some anonymous gunner got lucky and landed a shot on the Journeyman’s unprotected front…

 

One of the Z-95’s, not reacting quickly enough to her maneuver, had approached dangerously close to the rear of her shuttle. The old Miraluka tightened her lips. She had an idea that could potentially neutralize the threat of that corvette’s heavy guns for a few minutes, but it was the sort of insane, Force-dependent stunt that her daughter might have attempted during the war.

 

The blood draining from her head despite the inertial compensators, Misal broke out of her dive and hit the shuttle’s brakes; that Z-95 kept pace with the maneuver, but hadn’t quite anticipated the drastic reduction in speed and nearly collided with the shuttle. Despite the fact that the starfighter’s nose was only a handful of meters from poking the Journeyman’s sublight engines, its blasters were zeroed at such a far range that they were safely burning past her shuttle’s flanks and doing no damage whatsoever. The frustrated pilot of that antiquated starfighter frantically attempted to break out of the mechanized clinch, but Misal matched his every change of speed and direction.

 

For the moment, Misal had an indestructible set of extra shields, one that this mercenary corp wouldn’t dare shoot through. The other two members of the Headhunter’s flight group broke and angled to attack from another angle, however, and that moment might only last half a minute until she was in danger.

 

“Ardel, come about. Trade tails with you.” Their sluggish shuttles could turn into each other in a simple but effective dogfighting maneuver and catch their pursuers in a crossfire. The only downside would be the minor matter of placing the Journeyman’s unshielded front before the guns of an untested pilot…

 

____

 

Kilometers above the skirmish, the four members of Renn Hamis’ fireteam plummeted from Iridonia’s upper atmosphere towards the beleaguered clamshell transport. Despite the disparate talents of the four-man squad and their different species, the commandos felt like a single entity in the Force when bound by their sect’s battlemind. Although, technique couldn’t completely obliterate the more dominant aspects of their personalities: Nikita Trell, their assault specialist, had separated from the group by angling her form into a sort of extended swan dive, her armored body scything through the air without any air resistance.

 

She pulled out of the dive with only seconds to spare, engaging the repulsorlifts in her EVA suit with only just enough time to spare to make a rolling landing across the drifting hull of the GR-75 Medium transport and spare her bones the trauma of a high-speed impact. The rest of the squad landed only a few seconds later with a bit more caution, blasting their repulsorlifts arrays at the last second and smacking into the gently sloping hull in a repulsorlift-assisted belly flop. They crawled over the hull of the transport to avoid being swept off the clamshell surface by the buffeting gusts; someone in the bridge, looking down at the hull of the Maturin, was gesturing wildly to indicate the grey-clad threats that had just landed on the bow of the transport. Renn Hamis silenced the man with a single armor-piercing round from his long-barreled rifle.

 

Upon reaching the center of the hull, the fireteam stopped and two of the armored figures began laying out ribbons of shaped charges to form rings of explosives in the hull of the Maturin. As they worked, the

 

“About to make our insertion. Stand by.” An eerily flat voice intoned over the comlinks. There was a spark of light and the charges breached the hull in two places. The armored shaped dropped into the hull breaches, and the transmission was soon filled with the whine of blaster fire, the metallic cracks of projectile rifles… and the piercing roar of a rotary cannon.

 

“We’re in.” Came the same voice in the same disinterested tone. “Stand by.”

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“We’re in,” crackled over the comm. “Stand by.”

 

Darex acknowledged with a double click. Now they really had to keep up the pressure. If they could force the transport to land, the Journeyman could follow. Trying to transfer Armiena mid-air was never part of the plan. Hopefully, the charge-shaped holes in its hull would encourage it to do so, but Darex flew past for one last loop, pumping the ship full of ion fire as he did so.

 

As the transport began its turn back down to Iridonia, the Jedi Master switched his focus to the Corvette, which had entered the fight with a fury. Misal and Xae were tackling the Z-95’s, but with their shuttles’ slower engines, the outdated fighters would be able to swarm them. “Switch targets,” he commed. “You two take on the Corvette; leave the Z’s to me.”

 

Swooping down, he watched Xae and Misal trade attackers, then flew a screening pattern, drawing the attention of the headhunters that had been trailing both shuttles with a concentrated burst of blue fire. His fire continued, taking out two headhunters that had the misfortune to cross paths right in front of his arc of fire, sending both on unpowered drifts. He checked their trajectories, and was pleased to see that they’d have plenty of time to get their ships powered back up before Iridonia’s gravity well pulled them back down to a fiery death in the atmosphere.

 

He turned his attention back to the rest of the slim t-shaped fighters. Time to be obnoxious, he thought. He reversed thrust and shot backwards, then kicked in his forward thrusters again to loop wide and bring him back towards the heart of the engagement. Reaching out with the Force, he timed his shots, taking out one, two, and then three of the Z-95’s. But then one pilot decided to shadow his every move. Darex juked and jinked, but the pilot was good, and even with Darex’s Force-enhanced senses, he or she managed to score a hit on his starboard engine.

 

Alarms filled the cockpit, but the damage wasn’t too bad. He needed to shake this guy, though. The battle meld was working, though, for no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the Force brought Xae across his flank, the triple-pointed shuttle knocking his shadow out of the fight.

 

There were only a few Z-95’s left, and the Corvette was showing some damage as well. Soon, Darex knew, this would all be over.

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Xae's ship bucked as the Corvettes volley managed to find something to hit on the weaving Lambda as she did her best not to fly into the line of fire of one of the few remaining Z-95s. Reason #42 why I hate flying, she thought, drawing on Darex's much more expansive knowledge of space combat through their Force connection, which also provided her with reasons #34-41 for her list. It was keeping her alive, though, and that was the important thing.

 

Her next shots went slightly wide of her mark, indicating that there might be something going on with the targeting systems. #43 - Systems don't always work. Maybe they'll set down if we ask them nicely?

 

The ship jolted again and this time one of the panels began shooting sparks. Guess we're a bit past the diplomacy phase of things. #44 - Fire on ships eat oxygen. #45 I need oxygen to continue fighting. #46 - There is no water in space. She reached over and grabbed her outer robe from the copilot's seat and began beating at the panel to extinguish the flames while she attempted to keep a decent line of flight. Where's a damn R4 unit when you need one? I hope Emily wasn't wanting to get her ship back in one piece...

 

Xae's bout of errant flying had brought her in line with the Corvette and she unleashed a volley of turbo laser fire at the main bridge. If I hit the engines...they go boom. I remember that much. So bridge it is.

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After making their egress into the Maturin, the four-man squad advanced through the cargo hold of the medium transport. Periodically, they were opposed by security from CreoVive or the mercenaries hired by the biotech firm, but opposition was still sporadic and the fireteam was much more experienced than the sellswords they were facing, even without the assistance of the Force. Isolated, ill-equipped, and disorganized, none of the guards stood a chance and were promptly cut down by rifle fire.

 

Their steps as eerily relentless as battle droids, Misal’s fireteam continued through the flying warehouse, the Force-Sensitive commandos stacked up on either side of the corridors of shipping crates to allow a clear path for errant blaster fire to pass between them. Occasionally, the Jedi heard blaster and rifle fire over the comm channel, but the only report that their leader had to offer was a flat, emotionless “stand by.”

 

Until his voice became notably higher pitched and a tremor of excitement was detectable over the airwaves. His four-man team had finally located the shipping crate that was supposed to be housing their quarry, with a minimal sentry inside. The IR sensors in their helmets indicated that both guards were lying prone on the corrugated ground of the crate, either for a better firing position… or in terror. With single burst of armor piercing rounds, he could render that threat moot… but the Force was quivering with senseless terror in tandem with their bodies. Nodding to his assault specialist, he indicated to unlatch the doors of the armored crate and they stormed within.

 

Those two guards lay prostrate on the metal floor of the shipping container, both their hands folded submissively over the back of their heads. Their blaster carbines had been tossed to the front of the oversized crate along with a matching set of cartridges and their ammunition belts. Hamis and his fireteam smirked at the sight of the preemptive surrender and the rank of human waste that filled the air; this was the smartest move from these sellswords that they had seen all day. He triggered his armor’s external speakers and issued a warning:

 

“Don’t move, and do not look up.” His assault specialist drew her sidearm and splashed two stun rounds into each of their prostrate forms.

 

The fireteam switched on the spot-lumas attached to their weapons and advanced into the shipping crate, a brief wave of heat warming their shoulders as they penetrated a medical sterilization field. The barrels of their weapons lowered as they finally located their quarry.

 

What they saw was barely more than a corpse. Her emaciated body clad in a thin, sterile gown, Armiena Draygo had been restrained to the confines of a repulsorlift bed, her neck, wrists, and ankles seized within steel collars that had been welded to the frame of the bed. Cords and tubing hung loosely from her limbs and chest, sending signals and bodily fluids to pulsing sensors and machines whose function they couldn’t even guess. A transparent respirator mask fit snugly over her face, but tracking the tubing, the fireteam immediately noticed that the line had kinked and had failed to deliver its mixture of anesthesia to the veteran Jedi. What little of her ghostly skin that Hamis could see was covered in bandages and ugly yellow bruises--her head had been shaved to expose the scalp and a fresh bandage that had recently been applied to the side of her head, where a recent impact had left a livid contusion to her forehead and the side of her face.

 

Although Armiena was making an earnest performance of being safely anesthetized, the beeping of the vital signs sensors and the thrumming of her presence in the Force made clear that she was perfectly conscious… and in a significant degree of pain.

 

“Trevelian, please contact a Healer and inform them that they will be needed immediately once we're out of here. She's in a bad state--secure weapons!

 

At that moment, all three of Hamis’ compatriots--even the Togorian carrying the gargantuan rotary cannon--found their necks seized by an almighty grip and thrown to the ground. Hamis, for his part, was dragged forward by the receiver of his markman’s rifle to the side of the hospital and found the barrel of the weapon twisted under his chin. The safety had been somehow been turned off and Hamis shoved an armored finger under the trigger guard, just in time to prevent Armiena from blowing his head off with a touch of the Force. Her green eyes shot open and stared hatefully somewhere past his ear--terrified and enraged though she might have been, Renn realized that she couldn’t even see him, and she was still within seconds of killing them all.

 

“Draygo, Misal sent us to get you out of here--I helped her look after Aidan--I call her Space-Mom! I call her Space-Mom! Stop!”

 

The grip on his long-barrelled rifle loosened and the weapon fell harmlessly to the floor, hanging limply from Hamis’ shoulder. Armiena’s lips formed mute words as she processed everything around her--her hearing was shot, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar. The veteran Jedi had no idea where she was, but the nearby presences in the Force were familiar; Renn Hamis was nearby; her mother was nearby; Darex was nearby. This was a rescue attempt.

 

She laughed weakly and immediately regretted the gesture as her back protested the mistreatment it had suffered the last several months. Armiena exhaled the breath that she had been holding and stretched out with the Force, and welds that secured the restraints gave way as though held together by glue. She held out her spindly arms. As the rescuer placed them around his neck to draw her into a backpack carry, Armiena explained just as an explosion rent the air and caused the hull of the transport to tremble.

 

“...can’t hear you. Legs aren’t working.”

 

____

 

Trevelian, please contact a Healer and inform them that they will be needed immediately once we're out of here.

 

Misal’s heart seemed to leap into her throat at the confirmation from her fireteam’s commander that Armiena was under their protection. They were so close now--that head-to-head stunt with Ardel had simultaneously eliminated the tail on both hers and the Jedi’s shuttle, the Medium Transport was still descending to Iridonia’s surface on repulsorlifts, and it would only be a matter of time before Hamis was able to make it to an airlock or blast their way through the transport’s hull and escape. Unfortunately, the Thundershrike was still on station, doggedly refusing to abandon its escort and continuing to lay turbolaser and quad laser fire into the dogfight.

 

That vessel had to be driven off. None of their shuttles could outrun it. It could prevent any attempt at escape from the transport and it could blast apart the Maturin in seconds if its orders changed.

 

Misal sent the Journeyman into a blood-draining climb, spraying laser cannon fire over the length of the Thundershrike’s keel. Laser cannon fire attempted to trace her path as she rushed past the narrow hull of the corvette and swept around to repeat the strafing run on its dorsal surface. As the targeting reticle lit up and her fingers squeezed the control stick, alarms blared in the cockpit and Misal clearly made out the twin barrels of a turbolaser battery staring back at the Miraluka pilot.

 

“So that’s--” Misal never had time to finish that sentence before an impact knocked the Miraluka against the control surfaces of the shuttle. The turbolaser beam tore into the Journeyman’s port wing and blasted it from its hull. What remained of the shuttle spun violently out of control, barely missing the hammerhead bridge of the corvette as it dove to the surface.

 

Misal had been rendered unconscious for only two seconds, just long enough to avoid witnessing her near miss with the Thundershrike. The faceplate of her helmet was cracked into a spiderweb pattern and its optics were shattered--that was of no concern to a Miraluka, though blood was dripping down her face. Of more concern was the fact that her shuttle was still tumbling out of control and driving the blood from her head--inertial compensators were clearly out--sublights were out, repulsorlifts were out… and something smelled like it was burning.

 

“I... “ Misal gasped as she tried to slow her spin. “I’m a glider. Stay alive for me. I’m going to try to bring this thing down. Sorry.”

 

The Miraluka struggled with the control stick, which seemed intent on escalating the spin and driving the old operative into unconsciousness. Gradually, the spin slowed and Misal trusted herself to reach out with one arm and flush the shuttle’s fuel lines before the fire roared out of control and made her efforts moot. The sensor readout on the Journeyman filled up with activity as ten new contacts rushed out of space. Struggling to keep the newly-bi-winged craft level as it glided--more like tumbled--barely in control to Iridonia’s surface, the Miraluka couldn’t spare the scanner more than a moment of her attention, but the icons were all green.

 

Ten eight-legged war machines popped the hatches of their deployment pods and stood to survey the planet surface. Ten mechanical voices roared in binary as their weapons tracked the Thundershrike and opened fire with cannons calibrated for ground assault and engaging Star Destroyers.

 

Ten Wolf Spiders had just arrived.

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What the Force are those things?! Xae wondered as she brought the Lambda back around to face the Maturin halfway wondering just how long it would take the eight-appendaged things to figure her out as being a friend rather than a foe. "I'll help where I can. I might not be much of a healer, but I am essentially a Light Side battery and can probably sustain her until we can get Armiena to Skye or a temple. Darex, I'm going to do something crazy. Cover me."

 

With Misal's vessel now spinning out of control into the upper atmosphere, Xae knew that it was up to her to extract the team from the transport shuttle. Drawing once more on Darex's knowledge of ships and space combat, she throttled the engines and angled the vessel toward the rear of the ship where the shuttle bay's magcon field glowed in deceptive invitation. Not having the frequencies of Misal's team she opened her channel to Darex, "Think you could let them know I'm coming? I also might have a red lightsaber, so tell them not to worry about that either. I'd rather keep up this 'Sith' facade as long as possible. I can reach Armiena so she knows not to actually kill me with her mind."

 

Xae hoped her misdirection and overall overtures as a Sith on a vessel with a Sith transponder would keep up the confusion long enough that the team could make it out with Armenia alive. The more the people that held the former Grandmaster thought she'd been taken in a cross-fight between the Jedi and Sith, the hard it would be for them to sort out the truth of their loss. Was it probably immoral to mislead as Xae was, likely, but in this instance, it was the ends that mattered more than the means. It wasn't like she was planning to go on a murder spree and if it made the crew of the transit think twice before messing with her and spared their lives, then all the better.

 

She brought the vessel into the landing bay and felt the sense of artificial gravity overtake the ship as she set it down. Leaving the engines hot, she drew the black-hilted lightsaber Jaina had made and hit the activator switch on the ship's ramp. The Force was kind enough to warn her of the volleys from the crew that arced their way towards her. No longer in the uncertainty of space in what amounted to a fancy tin can, Xae's footing was sure and she deflected the projectiles back and just over their sources.

 

Her initial training had been as a Guardian, the warrior-diplomat of the Jedi Order and she knew how to use the Force to defend as well as attack. Using the Force she moved some of the boxes and other equipment to fence in the crew of the Maturin that opposed her, pinning them against the walls of the hangar. Her mission now was to buy time and clear a path for Misal's team and Armiena.

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PM Mirdala if you'd like a timely response.

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A Force-timed shot took the last Z-95 out of the fight, and finally, Darex was free to turn his full focus on the Corvette. It was none too soon, for all of a sudden, several things happened in rapid succession. First, there was a flicker in the Force, and then all of a sudden, Armiena’s presence burst onto the scene. Darex smiled in relief. She was alive, and she was in the hands of the extraction team. The battle meld opened to her, drawing her in and feeding her what strength and mental clarity Darex could spare. He acknowledged the extraction leader’s communique. Skye was busy with Faust, but there was a Jedi healer present on Felucia that would be able to take charge of Armiena’s care. His fingers flew, tapping out and sending a quick message to her even while his other hand never left the control stick of his fighter.

 

The next thing that happened was that Misal’s shuttle spun out of control. “Misal!” he gritted out over the comm. “Hold on!” What he was going to do, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t just going to let her spin out of control. The Miraluka’s voice over the comm, however, ensured him that she wasn’t panicking yet, so after a moment, he pulled up out of his sudden dive towards her and looped back around towards the Corvette.

 

Just then, the cavalry arrived. Darex had never had the opportunity to see the Wolf Spiders in action. In fact, he hadn’t even been aware of their existence until he had been made Grandmaster a few years ago. When they opened fire on the Corvette, however, he realized the classified files he had read had not exaggerated. These things were, in a sense, mobile tanks.

 

Their appearance changed the whole timbre of the battle. Xae took the opportunity to land on the falling ship, while Darex engaged his retrothrusters and burned towards the Wolf Spiders. Joining their line, he added his own fire to the mix, getting close to take out turbolaser batteries and other weapons emplacements.

 

A few minutes later, and it was pretty much over. The CreoVive pilots were no match for a Jedi Master and almost a dozen Wolf Spiders, and with its fighter screen gone, the Corvette found itself as their sole remaining target. Darex’s comm chirped, and he glanced down briefly to see that Master Iranol had returned his message and was standing by.

 

He checked his scope. The Wolf Spiders didn’t need him anymore, so he dumped power from his weapons systems into his engines and spiraled back around towards Misal. “Need a hand, Space Mom?” he commed, using the extraction team’s nickname for her.

 

((apologies...can't seem to get in his head tonight))

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This contract had gone horribly for the crew of the Thundershrike and its fighter screen. The snubfighters eliminated and their pilots left strewn across the snowy wastes after ejecting from their disabled vessels, the corvette was stranded in atmosphere and helpless against the bombardment from the Wolf Spiders. The eight-legged behemoths, for their part, were pelting their target from orbit with aplomb. Even if most of their fire missing the frantically evading corvette and churning up the frozen badlands, a few stray shots inevitably struck the Thundershrike and pulverized the shields of the fragile little corvette.

 

The bridge of the ship was in chaos. A team of medics was treating casualties from shrapnel and burn injuries. Wind howling through the transparisteel canopy, it was necessary to bellow orders to be heard--and the Wolf Spiders had somehow managed to hack the Thundershrike’s comm systems and were baying for blood and the release of their maker.

 

The common theme, amongst the venomous oaths they were hurling and lurid descriptions of what they would do to the hull of the overwhelmed corvette, was to demand the release of one Armiena Darkfire. The captain of the battered vessel, a scarred veteran from the fleet of the Galactic Republic, had had quite enough of this. The contract of his ship had been somewhat nondescript, merely stating that they were to escort the Maturin from Iridonia to Sullust and prevent the loss of material or intellectual property by pirates or hacking attempts. His crew had found itself embroiled in a conflict that seemed torn out of an after-action report from the Civil War--Jedi and Sith marauders, Wolf Spiders, and an elite fireteam that came blasting through the hull of his charge. He had never been fully informed what his ship would be protecting, but if they were facilitating human trafficking… the lives of his crew wasn’t worth protecting these scum.

 

The Devaronian clambered over the wreckage of the Thundershrike’s bridge towards the abandoned communications post, ignoring an earsplitting oath from one of the mechanized monstrosities that it would vent its coolant fluid on the ashes of his ship. He crouched over the console and triggered an open-air transmission to the Jedi and their war machines.

 

“Hold your fire--I repeat, hold your fire. We’ll stand down--just try to bring that Sith down before he kills any more of my men.”

 

The remaining guns of the Thundershrike went silent.

____

 

As the Journeyman continued its descent through Iridonia’s atmosphere, its spin worsened and Misal found herself fighting off unconsciousness as much as she was struggling against the attempts of her wounded shuttle to get her killed. The Lambda-class was a terrible glider and displayed all the grace of a ton of durasteel in upper atmosphere, but the hull on its remaining wing had been mangled by the turbolaser blast and was forcing the vessel into a spin. Its pilot strained against the encroaching waves of numbness, but the spin only worsened as the atmosphere thickened at lower altitudes.

 

Misal slumped forward. Silence was Darex’s only answer.

 

Only a few thousand meters from Iridonia’s snowswept surface, the buffeting winds tore an obstruction free from the mangled wing of the Journeyman and the tumbling of the shuttle slowed. The Miraluka regained consciousness with a start and shuddered awake, repeatedly shaking her head as she fought through the disorientation of gravity-induced unconsciousness. A suppressed curse escaped her lips as she realized how perilously close the her shuttle was to crashing into the snowy wastes.

 

Misal righted the Journeyman and brought the shuttle back under control, balancing the tri-winged craft on the stump that had been shot off by the corvette. The white blanket of the wastes approached with alarming rapidity, and the Miraluka found herself muttering reassurances to herself and the Jedi as she tried to guide the shuttle to a clear patch in the pockmarked badlands.

 

“I have control. I have control. I have--” The hull of the shuttle shrieked as the stump of the wing collapsed when it hit ground. A shrieked curse escaped her lips as the shuttle’s side skipped across the snowy wastes. The next few seconds were a frantic nightmare of frenzied activity, of struggling to force the craft’s hull back into the pristine snow and trying to maintain some semblance of control as the shuttle gradually drifted to a halt while the universe seemed to howl for her blood. The Journeyman struck a boulder and its remaining wing tore away, the rest of the craft spinning and tumbling to a halt as it flung pieces of its exterior into the wilderness. With sparks flying through the cockpit and pieces of bulkhead and transparisteel giving way, Misal completely lost her composure and threw her hands free of the control surfaces to try to protect herself against the inexorable forces of physics. A strangled, panicked noise tore itself from her throat, and the Miraluka just tried to hold on as the world fell into disarray around her.

 

Misal was flung forward despite her restraints when the shuttle finally came to a rest.

 

Her helmet’s comms were squawking something--Misal ignored it and let out a pained groan. Everything hurt. Her shoulders were strangely strained from the pressure of her restraints. At least the blood had stopped pooling in her helmet. Smoke was pooling around her feet. The floor under the control surfaces had given way and buried her prosthetic left leg in tons of steel and circuitry, leaving the synthskin and alloy skeleton of the limb pierced and shredded. Misal took a moment to parse this, trying to reconcile these peculiarities with the confusion of the last few seconds.

 

She was upside-down.

 

____

 

For Armiena, the next few minutes were an incoherent mess as the veteran clung to the leader of the fireteam, fading in and out of varying levels of consciousness as the four-man team fought their way to the hangar of the Maturin. Occasionally, she mumbled something into the neck of her rescuer, the noise swallowed up by the confusion of the running firefight.

 

c’n help… lemme help… rot your eyes… shouldn’t’ve…” Even in her semi-conscious state, she was indeed a significant assistance to the fireteam in her more lucid moments. When the fireteam breached a blast door that was blocking their passage to the hangar, they were greeted by a prepared blockade of mercenaries and emplaced E-Webs. As fire roared towards the fireteam, Armiena simply held out a hand and snatched a blaster bolt out of the air before it struck her rescuer in the forehead, muttering nothing more than a muffled “ow” as the Force dissipated most of its deadly energy.

 

Then her grip on his neck slipped and her emaciated body tumbled to the deckplates, pain ripping down her sides as scars tore and catheters broke. That muffled grunt turned into a twisted howl of pain--one of the fireteam moved to drag her out of the line of fire and was rewarded for their trouble with a trio of blaster bolts that impacted on the sapient’s breastplate, sending him to the ground. As fire continued to howl through the breach, a voice roared from the barricade and the blasters quieted.

 

“Hold fire! Hold your fire! Let ‘em have Darkfire--just worry about that kriffing Sith!”

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The Thundershrike finally stood down, and Darex let out a relieved breath. He opened a comm channel to them. "Thundershrike, stand by. Once the Sith has been dealt with and Draygo released, we would be happy to provide any help you need in repairing any damage your systems have taken." He closed the channel. He had been careful to use only ion cannons, but the Wolf Spiders had been a little more gung-ho.

 

His sensors lit up with information, and he found himself wincing as Misal's shuttle came skidding down on the surface, throwing up clouds of orange-ish dirt. The Force informed him that she was alive, though likely injured. "Hold on, Misal," he commed. It was likely her systems were down and she wouldn't get the message, but he tried anyway. "We'll get you out of there as soon as Armiena is safe."

 

Then his lithe fighter was at the Maturin. He maneuvered until he was hovering right outside the hangar bay, close enough to see the whole scene with his own eyes. What he really needed was a way to get Xae out of there, while still leaving the shuttle for the extraction team. Suddenly, a mad idea came to him. The Maturin was losing altitude fast. He swung the nose of his fighter to the side and blew out the force field shielding the hanger. As the emergency bulkhead began to slide across the gap, another bolt melted the joint, freezing it in the place and allowing the Iridonian wind to whip through the hangar. "Hold on, Xae," he sent. Then he reached out a hand. The Force rushed through him, emptying him of himself. And then it carefully picked Xae up and quickly swept her out of the hanger, bringing her to a landing directly on the nose of Darex's Jedi Ace.

 

As soon as she landed, he engaged the engines, reversing and bringing the fighter down towards the ground. To the crew of the ship, it would look as if she had jumped to take him on one-on-one, and Darex was trying to level the playing field by landing. Instead, he carefully deposited her near the wreck of Misal's ship. "Get her out of there," he commed Xae. "I'll make sure the extraction team gets off alright, and have them swing around to get you two before they leave the system."

 

When the petite Jedi acknowledged, he turned back around again. "You're in the clear," he commed the extraction team. "Get her out of there."

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“Don't ask questions, just go.” Hamis implored his fireteam after the onrush of blaster fire subsided.

 

After a number of breathless seconds, both sides uncertain of each other’s intentions and staring down the other along the barrels of their firearms, Draygo and their wounded squadmate had been dragged out of the crosswise and behind the comparative safety of the heavy plates if the blast door. The rest of their squad watched, pleasantly surprised as the blockade melted away to turn against what they had clearly been deceived into believing was a Sith raider out for their blood.

 

The whine of a charged autocannon gradually dissipated as the corridor to the hangar cleared of their opposition. Finally, their leader lowered his long-barreled rifle and stood. “No time for questions, just go.”

 

He hefted Armiena onto his back and murmured an unheard apology for having dropped the wounded Jedi. He felt her shiver as she groaned an unintelligible response: “...can’t hear…”

 

The hangar--what remained of it--was curiously empty when the fireteam and their wounded arrived. A throng of marines--both security personnel assigned to the Maturin and their comparatively better-armed counterparts from the Thundershrike--gathered around the magcon field shielding the hangar from Iridonia’s freezing atmosphere, the last rounds from their blasters whining harmlessly as Trevelian’s starfighter darted away. Ardel was putting up a good show of mightily resisting the Jedi Grandmaster, waving about her blood-red lightsaber in an enthusiastic display of preparing to slice through the craft’s canopy, but the younger Jedi had to be struggling to stay standing on the starfighter in the freezing, snowy gusts. Hamis tilted his head and glanced at the battered Lambda-class shuttle that remained in the hangar. “No questions--just go.”

 

Before the sellswords protecting the Maturin could decide how to respond to this peculiar turn of events, the fireteam darted aboard the Sith transport and slammed the boarding ramp shut behind them. Confused shouts were just barely audible as the squad deposited their wounded in the shuttle’s hangar. As she was being set down on the barren, metal floor, Armiena protested and punched her fists into the front of Hamis’ grey breastplate, her voice gaining clarity as the foolhardy Jedi became more adamant that she wasn’t quite

 

“...’n fly--” A weak blow to the breastplate. “...can fly--I can fly this thing--I. Can. Fly.” She gritted her teeth and held on despite Hamis’ attempts to shrug her onto the floor. “Take care of your friend. Just sit me down--ow--in the cockpit.”

 

Despite the fact that Armiena had previously demonstrated herself to be nearly blind, more than half-deaf, and now about as physically imposing as her atrophied frame suggested, Hamis knew better than to argue and carried her to the cockpit and deposited her gently into the pilot’s seat. She yelped as her rear, clad only in a surgical gown that was purposefully abbreviated to accommodate the catheters inserted into her pelvis, made contact with the cold plastic material of the pilot's seat and partially-healed surgical wounds protested at the touch. Fluid trickled down her back... probably blood, she decided. There wasn't time to sulk over her exploitation by these creatures, however; there was a wounded soldier dying of a blaster wound no more than ten meters away.

 

Her skeletal fingers touched the control stick and traced over the glowing panels before her. Armiena had no idea what class of ship that she was at the helm of, nor the planet that she was about to escape from, or even the atmospheric conditions that she was about to take the craft into, but she knew that this was something was something that she could do. The wounded Jedi instinctively settled back into the pilot’s seat and immediately jumped forward as surgical wounds smarted from the contact. Her fingers tightened around the control stick and felt familiar controls at the expected positions. She took two deep breaths and found the Force waiting for her. Armiena welcomed the embrace and the relief from her pain. For the moment, she didn’t even need her damaged eyes; she had the shuttle’s.

 

Her fingers raced over the controls with the practiced ease of a career shuttle pilot. The shuttle lifted awkwardly from the hangar’s deckplates and spun about, wings unfolding as it cleared the hangar’s magcon field. Buffeted by the freezing gusts, Armiena frowned as she moved to adjust the damaged shuttle’s flight control surfaces and received a lethargic response from the maneuvering thrusters--battle damage? substandard maintenance? It was difficult to say, but the shuttle handled like an ornery Hutt in the frozen winds. The Jedi ace resisted the urge to frustratedly pound her fist on the control boards as she found herself fighting through a developing blizzard--her legs disabled, she couldn’t even work the rudder. She nevertheless managed to set the shuttle down in a boulder-filled field near her mother and her old friend with a minimum of wavering in the battering winds.

 

Armiena reached to the side and felt the familiar controls of a standard ship’s comlink. It occurred to her that she had no idea what encryption that the previous pilot of the shuttle was operating on; she simply slammed a pair of blind fingers down on the console, simultaneously triggering an open-air transmission as well as the shuttle’s exterior speakers.

 

“I need coordinates.” Her pained voice boomed out into the blizzard. “And… you need to get this shuttle worked on. Handles like an ornery Hutt.”

 

____

 

 

I need coordinates. And you need to get this shuttle worked on. Handles like an ornery Hutt.

 

Still hanging upside-down in the restraints of her seat, Misal burst out laughing, then starting sniffling in her species’ equivalent of happy tears. It had been years since she’d heard that voice; years of sleepless nights, poring over sensor data until her Sight wavered; years of defying her masters, to the point of being exiled from her sect; years of fearing that the only reward that she would see at the end of this search would be a few shards of burnt armor or a pile of mouldering bones. She resisted the urge to remove her helmet and wipe at her face. The cockpit was quickly filling with smoke and her helmet’s filters were the only thing saving her from a tragically ironic demise.

 

The ringing in her ears gradually subsided and she made out the last words of Trevelian’s transmission. “I’m… here.” Another sniff. “Just… caught on something. Please hurry. Something is burning back here.”

 

Not one to simply wait and allow herself to be saved, Misal withdrew a vibroblade from her armor and wedged jammed the blade into the ruined mechanisms of the knee joint. The old Miraluka gripped the hilt of the dagger and crudely twisted the blade from side to side with both hands, thoroughly shredding the delicate workings of the joint and slowly chopping it free from the organic tissue. Given enough time, she would be able to free herself by simply severing the prosthetic, but a Jedi would prove to be handy, for once...

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  • 2 weeks later...

Xae pulled the Force around her as a buffer against the cutting chill of the Iridonian atmosphere while she put her utter faith in Darex’s seemingly half-baked plan. If I can’t trust the Grandmaster of the Jedi, then who can I really trust?

 

She really wished that she’d grabbed at least another layer other than the summer-weight button-down blue shirt she was wearing. Keldabe hadn’t been overly hot, but it wasn’t snow, ice, and lower atmosphere either. Xae drew on the light within to keep the cold at bay as Darex’s fighter sat her down near the wreckage of Misal’s ship.

 

All she could manage was quick nod before she set to work making herself an opening with the crimson-bladed weapon. The wrecked ship just barely helped with the biting wind as the Exorcist picked her way toward what remained of the cockpit. As the blade pierced the door that would grant Xae access to Misal, she was quick to call over the comm, “I’m here to help, don’t shoot. Not a real Sith, though I play one in haphazard rescues apparently…”

 

Placing one hand on Misal’s shoulder, Xae-Lin reached up to touch the control panel, feeling where Misal ended and the ship began and leveraging that knowledge to gently, but firmly separate the two until the injured woman was able to pull free. “Let’s get you out of here. I might be cold, and a fire sounds nice right about now, but there’s just something about a potential ship explosion I’m not so good with if it’s all the same to you.”

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Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see.

PM Mirdala if you'd like a timely response.

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Misal continued to thrash the inner mechanisms of her prosthetic left leg, chiseling and gouging through the joint with the tip of her vibroblade. Sparks and filaments fell from the limb as the blade worked deeper into the knee joint. The smoke from the shuttle's wreckage was filling the cockpit and starting to overwhelm the filters in her helmet; the armor’s environmental sensors were registering a gradual build-up in the ambient temperature. Sweat began to drip upwards from her brow and pool in the cap of her helmet.

 

Misal had been thoroughly disoriented by the tumbling of the Journeyman through Iridonia’s atmosphere, but her shuttle had arrived to its final resting place in these snowswept badlands. Two of the tri-winged craft's wings had been torn off during the controlled crash, and the third was hanging onto the fuselage by only a tangle of sparking cables and riven beams. A fire was rapidly consuming the crew compartments, and the only thing that had prevented the snowy wastes from being decorated with bits of shuttle and Miraluka was her foresight in dumping the fuel lines. Even still, the heat was rapidly leaking through the thermal insulation in her armor. A Jedi would have been quite useful at this moment.

 

As though answering her wishes, the garish glow of a Jedi Knight began to pick through the burning rubble of her ravaged shuttle and added her efforts to freeing the pilot from the wreckage of the cockpit.

 

“Careful, careful. I’m free--catch me.” Misal admonished as the last flimsy connections between her prosthetic leg began to come loose. She hit the release on the crash harness and the Miraluka fell into the embrace of a Force-assisted cushion that prevented her from banging her head on the floor--actually, the ceiling--of the cockpit. The older woman allowed herself to be supported by the shoulders of the diminutive Jedi Knight as they clumsily limped out of the remains of the shuttle. She observed dispassionately she they passed a firestorm that was ravaging the ramp to the shuttle’s cargo hold.

 

“Wait a second--idea.” What exactly was transpiring behind the cracked faceplate was a mystery as she calculated quickly. A fire was quickly reducing what little was left of the Journeyman. Even if the flames had no hypermatter to consume, they were rapidly tearing through the electrical circuits and were making their way to the weapons systems… and the small stash of explosives that remained in the vessel. The electrical fires and secondary explosions would serve admirably in disguising the fate of the elderly operative, Misal decided--it might even buy her a few months of anonymity. Misal Draygo would have to die in this wreckage.

 

Misal made an obscene gesture with her left hand and the plates of her armor fell away to reveal the bruised, bloodied--but otherwise intact--body of a Miraluka operative. Her face uncovered, she only wore a thin black bodysuit. A deep cut had opened on her brow and and a mixture of blood and sweat was dripping over her face, but her expression was alert, even if slightly concussed. She threw her arm around Xae-Lin’s neck, allowing the shorter woman to support her as she limped barefooted through the snowdrifts towards her shuttle and up its boarding ramp. The elderly spymaster fell away to help her men render first aid to their wounded comrade, allowing the Jedi to return to her post in the cockpit.

 

“Hello.” The interim pilot of Ardel’s misappropriated shuttle said weakly as the Jedi Knight entered the cockpit. Clad only in a thin blue hospital gown that offered absolutely no protection against the frigid air of a spacecraft, Armiena was shivering fiercely as she leaned heavily on the control boards to try to avoid contacting the pilots seat with her wounded back. Nonetheless, blood, saline, and less wholesome fluids were dripping down her back and into the cushion, staining it a vivid palette of shades of red and yellow. “W-work the nav ‘puter for me. I’m a b-bit… b-blind at the m-m-moment… Borleias?”

 

Her teeth chattered sharply as her emaciated hands worked the controls of the damaged shuttle, bringing it to a course that would take them out of the system. Armiena was so severely nearsighted that she was effectively blind--this was piloting purely out of instinct and with the Force guiding her hands. As the Lambda-class shuttle gained altitude and the turbulence gave way to the stillness of space travel, her right arm groped out blindly, searching for a command on the communications consoles until Xae-Lin got the hint and transmitted the course to Darex herself. Armiena’s fingers closed around the unmistakable texture and shape of a hyperdrive activation lever and pulled back sharply, hurtling the vessel into the shelter of hyperspace.

 

((To Borleias!))

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  • 2 months later...

Kota sat at the helm of his ship that he had claimed for himself and renamed, Lazy Mynock as he piloted it down to Malidris, the capital city of the world Iridonia. Somehow, the dark and ashen looking world reminded him of a dream had had a few times while on Taris. Even as he began to land his ship, the air looked so arid that he was becoming a bit more dreadful of what it would actually be like upon stepping off of his ship. He also held a moment of wonder if he would have to sneak and trick his way into the city here much like he did back on Coruscant. But there was no real time to actually consider what that might mean, or even if it would happen. For now, he just simply needed to land.

 

As the ship began its own process of powering down, Kota released to landing ramp and allowed for it to fully lower before walked down. He took advantage of the long lowering to take in a few deep breaths before he walked down. Almost as soon as he could see the dock, there was three Zabraks waiting, all dressed in yellow and black uniforms. He couldn’t figure out which one was the dock officers and which ones were just crew that would do what they were supposed to do. As he reached the bottom of the landing ramp, the three began to move towards him. He allowed for himself to take a few steps before he bowed.

 

“Hello, my name is Kota Ni. I have traveled far to reach a port that would allow for me to do business.”

 

The female Zabrak, who was now clearly the main dock officer gave him a look that told him she knew he was full of it. The face made him have a very hard swallow of panic.

 

“Kota… You changed the registry. It used to be owned by a Twi’lek who called it Moot Aklay. He was a well known smuggler who would export Yarrock…”

 

At the very mention of the past of the ship made a shiver take over his body along with a tingle of cold that ran down his spine. How on earth could he have been so stupid to go to a planet that was already within the navicomputer of a ship that he had stolen. There was a sense of a tightening grip upon his throat as he tried to speak clearly.

 

“Well, yes. He had me take over this part of his operation… Yirrack is needed… on Taris, where his attention is kind of bus-“

 

“You don’t need to worry little one. That slime stole credits from the dock the last time he was here. I could care less if you killed him or stole his ship. This planet doesn’t have as many rules upon it as others like Taris or more core world. While we may be a part of the Galactic Alliance, their rules haven’t taken effect fully here, and nor has anyone really bothered to show up and enforce them. So as long as you can pay the docking fee, I’ll let you wander as much as your young heart wants to.”

 

Kota still had a tiny sense that his life was still endanger on this planet, yet he couldn’t really argue that paying the docking fee to be just like anyone else that came to this planet was a very good deal. In fact, he might be able to pick up work and find a stable job here.

 

“…Okay then. I’ll pay the docking fee, so long as I have your word that I can return to my ship anytime…”

 

The dock officer looked at him with a face that suggested she was rather confused with the question but held out her hand to accept the credits as she responded.

 

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t be able to do so, but sure. I’ll promise you that you can return at any time to your ship. So long as you don’t break any rules and the government has no reason to detain you or to lock your ship down, you’re free to come back as often as you like.”

 

Kota decided that he was better off paying sooner rather than later, so he handed over the docking fee and then moved slowly at first, but then got himself up to a normal pace as he walked further away from his ship. For some reason, he felt like this planet was going to be the place where he would find a way to make it in the galaxy…

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After some squabbling from the PIT Droids and space control, The Prism was allowed birth. A growling reprimand from Vos was always to be ignored by the insane droids- however, they instantly started to chatter in their droid language. Having little patience for this, Vos waved his hand in frustration and left the droids to do as they please. As he collected his coat and his weapon, Tobias left Adenna at the boarding ramp- she was going to take a nap. Tobias leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek, letting his hand fall down across her arm where he squeezed her hand affectionately. They departed and Tobias walked over to the deck officers- a female zabrak approached flanked by two males.

 

Standing a good head taller than the trio, Vos let them approach. A sort of shifty eye movement from the male on the left, but Tobias was a Jedi Master- there was nothing to fear from these three. Placing his cane in front of him, he limped forward a few steps, reaching into his bag with a gloved hand and pulled forth a datapad.

 

"Here for the docking fee? And here it is-" He pressed his finger to the pad and a chirp buzzed from the device. Smiling, he added "-And I think I need some fuel, as well as provisions from the city. Do you need a list, or am I free to roam about as I wish?"

 

They were taken aback at the promptness, given Tobias's shabby, aged appearance. "My crew will take care of most of the specifics, but I aim to wander the streets here, touristy stuff. Is that allowable here?" Based on his appearance- they would just think he's another philanthropist borderline smuggler. Last thing he wanted to announce was that he was a Jedi.

 

As the conversation continued, they all ended up laughing at a joke from the Kiffar and then parted ways; Tobias into the city, the crew back to their offices and the other service folks got to work. As Tobias looked around- he noticed... something odd in the air. Of course, that melted into the Force- someone was nervous, scared, alone, something... before he left the blast door into the city- he looked back around the landing bay with his YT, two other ships- one which looked like it had just landed a few moments before he did. Slowly turning back to the blast door- Vos exited. Might as well see what food there was to be had here. Liquor was implied...

 

As soon as he was clear of the blast doors, the limp disappeared and he managed to speed up. Something was amiss, he almost didn't want to deal with it but it seemed to call to him. Through the Force, he called back. As if casting a baited line for a fish to take the bait, then reel them in. A cantina was not hard to find, within the first twenty minutes of venturing into the city, the Kiffar was seated at the bar with a harsh smelling liquor in his hand, that was cool to the touch but mist wafted up from the dark liquid. He drank eagerly as if it were nothing more than water.

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  • 2 weeks later...

There was indeed some panic for Kota as he moved through the streets. He had wished that he had enough experience to fully understand what it was that he was feeling, yet he could not. There was something in the air that made him feel like he was being hunted, yet it didn't strike fear into him. Curious that such a feeling could even exist. He then took a quick sniff in the air. The arid air held a mixture of things in it, such as fuel, food, trash, and some other things that he couldn't quite place his finger on, yet he felt like he should know it. Carefully walking into the more busy streets, he relied upon his own senses to try to pick up some conversation that might help him find what he was looking for, and to be very honest, Kota had no idea what it was that he was looking for.

 

There was some conversation about a crew getting excited and throwing a party in one of the cantina's for the success of one of their own operations. He felt a strong sense of urgency to find that cantina, so he turned himself and began to find his way in. The security for the bar was low, as they let him just walk in. He was expecting to get stopped for being underage, but the local authorities might be very relaxed to some things he figured. So he took full advantage and walked up to the bar where there was a group who were laughing and making noise. It didn't take a genius to figure out that these were the ones who were celebrating. He lingered around them, until they all got some drinks and began to walk away towards the corner; a party room that they must have reserved. Kota played the situation to his advantage and turned towards the bartender with a smile and chuckle.

 

"Oh wait, you forgot our 3 glasses of Idlewil. Boss won't be happy if I forgot to bring him that!"

 

It was the only drink he remembered that some of the smugglers on Taris would drink. It was also the only way he could get some drink without getting carded and discovered as someone who was underage. The bartender, who clearly just wanted the group to go back to their private room, quickly poured three glasses and handed them over to Kota. He was quick to smile and turn to walk with the group, but tucked away and hide into a side table that was somewhat in the dark. He figured from here, he would be able to drink in peace without anyone noticing what he had just done.

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<<>>

 

Not every time you cast a line and catch a fish, but this instance was slated to be in Tobias’s favor. As he tracked the pressense that called out in the Force- he noticed it was coming closer. In came a stumbling group of swoop racers celebrating something. Trying to keep disappointment at bay- he saw who was emanating their emotions in the Force. A young Togruta male. Sitting at the far end of the bar, relatively as the bar was a oval in the middle of the room with several droids running around serving up tasty beverages. Booths lined the walls and tables- Sabacc and Dejarik tables were plenty with few empty chairs to be seen.

 

The cold liquid in front of Tobias was calling to him and so he indulged. Taking a long drink he drained the cup and motioned for a bartender- organic or droid didn’t matter. As Tobias waited he watched the youth snipe four drinks from the bartender.

 

Subtle, crafty, quick thinker… this could be interesting. Tobias thought as he took a sip from his new drink. The boy was almost lost in the crowd but Tobias made sure to keep an eye on him as he shot into a booth and the swoopers went elsewhere. A small chuckle escaped Tobias. Kid was making first good impressions. Now to test him a bit. There were a few things he could manipulate that would be relatively harmless.

 

Running his thumb over pointer finger on his right hand, he gentle pressured the boys mind into thinking that everyone was looking at him.

 

~~

Kota suddenly felt very awkward, as if every eye was upon him. Yet despite the feeling that was strong, his own eyes couldn’t actually see anyone looking directly at him. It was almost as if his own mind was now completely out to get him. Did I make the right choice? Of course I did. I had to steal the drinks to quench my thirst. It wasn’t a strong argument. Even Kota had a hard time believing his own words that he told himself as to why he took the drinks.

~~

 

Before too long Tobias had retracted the feeling and started to push forward a new one: thinking the boy was safe where he was and to remain. A strand of confidence and amusement accompanied the aura. Also implanting an image of staying in the booth- it was important to stay there.

 

~~

No, it was the right call. Kota was quickly and rapidly feeling better about the situation. There were no eyes upon him, he had succeeded in getting his drinks. He could quench his own thirst in peace without having anyone bother him. He began to get an increasing amount of self confidence. He could do this life. It would be easy for him.

~~

 

As the Togruta reacted, Tobias took another sip- and then grabbed his cane. Cradling the mug against his chest with his left hand, he limped forward through the crowd towards a sabacc table near his target and when the boy wasn’t looking, Tobias pivoted on his heel and slid into the booth. With a grunt of exertion he scooted into the booth with no invitation or explanation. The server droid brought another round of intoxicating beverages. All of varying color and sizes and lined them up. Tobias nodded to the droid. “Thank you, SX-8. That’s all for now.”

 

The droid nodded and left. Looking the line of drinks in the middle of the table up and down, he sighed with a sense of achievement. “Enjoying your drinks are you, lad?” Tobias chuckled, sipped his original mug, setting it back on the table with his right gloved hand, his left was still cradled in on his lap with his cane laying across his lap- the base of the cane was positioned to the inside of the booth. The boy would see a weathered face with a yellow line across it and up his left eye. Through the Force Tobias made certain that he appeared older to the booth host. Some grey in his hair and beard, more wrinkle lines that were appropriate for the 50 year old look he was striving for. If the boy could power through the illusion- it would show that he sort of knew what he was doing or at least how to harness the Force. A good gauge to see what how far along this lad was.

 

“Not a lot of folks have the wits to pull off what you did.” He held up a finger from his right hand to forestall a retort brewing from the boy across from him. As it fell back to his glass, he sipped his blue drink again. “And don’t deny it, those racers were pretty happy. I imagine they won’t remember their celebration party and won’t mind you swiped four drinks for yourself.”

 

“But the question is… should I be the law abiding citizen and alert the authorities, or the kindly mentor and help a young lad who has wandered into my domain- this bar, or… the dashing rogue who gets a young Togruta boy drunk and provides some hopefully helpful lessons. Quite some options, eh?” Vos chuckled and motioned for the boy to have a drink from his original four.

 

~~

Kota held a blank stare, yet it would be nearly impossible for anyone, drunk or high to miss the sheer fear that grasped at him upon hearing the words of the man who stood before him. He felt a twinge of panic and all of his sudden confidence boost disappeared as he looked with dread upon the face of a man who could put him in a situation that may be worse than what he wanted.

~~

 

Drinking the blue liquid, he set the glass aside. There was a feeling within the booth that no one was noticing and if he was paying attention the rest of the cantina was darker as if a privacy screen had just been pulled close. Tobias took no notice, as that was his own doing- the boy might notice. Hopefully he relaxed a bit and opened up to the random older man sitting across the table from him.

 

As the silence stretched on, Tobias could feel the paranoia and curiosity coming from the boy. “And I think I know what to do. Or at least attempt to, but I want to play a game first. I’ve had a long, stressful past few weeks. I have the feeling you have too….Togruta.” As he winked Tobias took the first drink in line and downed it in a single gulp. Thankfully this was a smaller glass. Giving a slight cough and an exasperation of some pain the drink had caused, he smiled. “Bespin Pulse, lil rough. Anyways- why does an underage boy want to get wasted? Answer me truthfully, and I’ll let you ask me a question. What do you say..” Pausing to let the boy’s name rise to the front of his own mind where Vos could read it. “...Kota Ni? Question for Question?”

 

Tobias let his aura reflect and influence the alien boy with confidence, honesty, duty and a dash of comfort. Hopefully the boy fed off the alcohol and the Force and gave in. Tobias was hopeful to have a new apprentice, despite his earlier reservations.

 

~~

Kota was now fully unsure. The man somehow knew his name. He never remembered giving it, so clearly this man could read minds. The yellow mark over his eyes gave him a sense of strenness, yet not one that longed to harm him. After a long moment to think it over, he decided that there was absolutely no harm in answering his question.

 

“Not wasted. I’m not drinking to..to..to get wasted. I’m..thirs-thirsty. It’s been a few days…”

 

Within his own mind, he hated that he was stammering through his words. The fear was now fully evident to the man, and within his short three weeks alone, he knew that showing fear was never a good sign. But now he had answered truthfully to the man, he could ask a question himself. He made a very loud hard swallow in his throat as he tried to get his words out without and of the stammering that he just did.

 

“Whoat are you?”

~~

 

Across Tobias’s face spread a grin that was warm and welcoming, like a grandfatherly smile. Leaning forward, and putting his right elbow on the table and then scratching at the skin under his beard. “Calm down, little one- if you need food or beverage- I’ll buy. I’m certainly not going to turn you into the police squad.” An amused snort came from the man’s nose, waving his hand dismissively then continued, “Who and what am I were your two questions? Thats fair I suppose, I did use your name when you hadn’t introduced yourself yet.... My name is Tobias Vos, my formal title is Jedi Master but I have many others. But now it’s my turn: What do you want from life, Kota Ni? Or at least what do you think you want from life?” The mug Tobias had brought to the table floated up and into Tobias’s hand as if to prove he had the power of the Force. As he drank, he gave a wink to ease the boys emotions.

 

~~~

Kota held a moment of disbelief in the very fact that this man claimed to be a Jedi. He had grown up with rumors of them, but he had never seen one before. And this person before him, while calming to be next to, didn’t really strike him as a Jedi. He let out an obvious breath of relief though, as the man who called himself Tobias Vos was not going to turn him in. he took a moment though, as he really couldn't place a finger on how to answer that question. What do I want from life? It was a strange thing to be asked in a bar when you got caught stealing drinks. Taking a sip with a very clear estranged face of dislike of his own drink, he did his best to swallow it before he responded.

 

 

“I’m not really sure. I went to Coruscant to survive and find someone who would help me track down the scum that took my sister. But since I had stolen stuff and accidentally killed people on Taris, I wasn’t welcomed. I fled to this planet to find a place to just start life…”

 

Kota held his drink with both hands and slowly shook it around and stared deep into the amber liquid as he himself pondered upon the question. What do I want from this life? Without looking up from his glass as he held the stare with the amber liquid, he blurted out whatever came to his mind.

“I want justice.”

 

Who was he kidding. He knew full well that he didn’t truly want justice, as he didn’t understand it or what it would even mean.

~~~

 

Tobias wanted to smile, but knew it was a bad idea. While he had been born into the killing fields: this boy... couldn't become a Sith and make the mistakes Tobias had. There wasn't time for that. Another sharing of the minds would need to occur and Dahar's event had taken a lot out of the Jedi Master. Now wasn't a time to make light of it- it was a decision and judgment and to see if Tobias could save this kid from a bad path.

 

“Would you mind explaining what happened on Taris? How did killing make you feel? Answer honestly, I will know if you lie.” Tobias listened then asked his questions with care- but a sense of gravitas in them. The truth was vital and if the boy did feel ashamed of what he did. Tobias didn’t ask who he killed because it didn’t matter, Tobias was sorry to kill beings on Kashyyyk, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Justice, at least for the Wookiees and dead allied forces- Jedi and Imperial.

~~~

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The S.F. Courtland soon arrived at the red and black world of Iridonia. A stark contrast from the lush green wilds of felucia and his home world of dorin which was more of a rustic brown. the three of us boarded a shuttle that took us to a large settlement of Zabraks located in one of the wind swept canyons that made this planet livable.

 

once we landed, the three of us departed the shuttle and set out to find transportation to Ilum. Kel and frond following closely behind their master as the three of them walked the streets of town. "So, where exactly do we find a private vendor that will take us to Ilum? do you already have someone in mind?" Kel asked. as they walked many of the zabrak stared at us. Understandable, considering Iridonia's population was mostly zabrak, we must have stuck out to the locals like a sore thumb.

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Disembarking into the ravaging sunlight of Iridonia, Frond paused to smile, taking in the harsh wind and sunlight.

 

”Changed much not visit has last my since,” he remarked as he glanced around the reddish landscape; shooting a look of disapproval at the closed speeder that was being boarded to head off the mesa and into the nearby village.

 

long enough have not been we trapped?

 

Begrudgingly boarding the speeder, Frond found a rather uncomfortable corner to stare out the dingy window at the brilliant sun-filled sky outside. Once stopped in the proportionately primitive township, Frond shuffled off the speeder along with the few other passengers who were not going onward with the transport, as it slowly rose back up into the sky in the distance. Whatever was to come, they would not be going back the way the y came. The Force would guide them.

 

Following along behind Kel and Sandy, Frond was content in the moment. The people here, for all their struggles to survive, were content; that contentedness radiated through the air soothing Frond’s already peaceful spirit.

 

Pausing at a small wooden cart, the Neti gently ran his wooded fingers through the soft brilliantly hues linens on display; smiling his approval at the fierce horned woman behind the cart. Fishing a few random credits from an aged knothole in his frame, and exchanged them with the woman for a fierce turquoise length of thin linen adorned with swirling navy and crimson. Seeing the puzzled looks of his fellows, he offered a smile as he gently pulled the cloth around him in a makeshift bandolier and fished the training saber from within the same knothole, affixing it to the cloth.

 

”Mistress to Ilum?”

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Sandy slowly walked off the boarding ramp into the pen spaceport of Iridonia. Her legs were sore from the tight confinements of waiting several days with little exercise and she was glad to be able to stretch. She took a deep breath and took to coughing almost immediately, the planet stunk of briney sulphur and though it was not deadly to breath in, it still irritated her lungs something fierce. She finished her coughing and took a gulp of water before donning her air filter mask from her utility belt and taking several deep, filtered breaths. Then she reached into the force and let her presence drift out away from her to find…

 

Tobias Vos? She was nearly startled from her concentration by the shock of sensing her old master here on Iridonia of all places before she reached out with a probing touch and informed him of her location.

 

She looked at her two apprentices, “We will find a private rental for several thousand credits, sadly we don’t get issued much credit wise by the Order, though maybe my old master, Tobias Vos may be of assistance in this matter.” She beamed, “Since it appears he is here as well!”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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((Co-written with Tobias Vos))

 

Kota held his own breath for a moment. The very thought of having to explain to someone why he had killed someone and how left a very rock hard lump in his own throat. It took him a while to actually overcome the very intended nature of speaking of a situation that was hard to recall for him.

 

“I...I won’t lie. Upon killing those on Taris… adrenaline kicked in. There was a certain… rush you could say. I was overcome with a white hot rage both times that I did kill. Both were connected to me getting anger that my sister’s life was being threatened. I can’t actually recall how I did any of it, other than my emotions completely took over. I never touched any of them, yet they all were upon the floor, covered in their own blood and I knew that I was the one who brought it upon them.”

 

It was then that tears began to trickle out of his own eyes. In the moment, killing them didn’t provoke such a strong emotion at the time, as his own rage and anger were all that he could feel. Yet now… Now that he was able to think about it, it own mind was becoming overwhelmed with all of the emotions. Although, he was still very much aware that he was in a cantina, so he held onto his own tears and refused to let them fall. His body began to shake very slightly.

 

~~~~~~

 

As Tobias listened to Kota talk about what happened the Jedi Master was witness to the Kashyyyk battle again… it was all still fresh in his mind. The smell, the feeling of… he shuddered and tried to distance that with a cold drink. So, he had been a slave and his sister was no longer with him. As the young boy let forth his story- sad and short, Tobias let a silence linger as the boy idly toyed with the drink in his hands.

 

“Well, Kota…” Tobias took another drink. “I think I have heard enough, for now. I do not fault you for doing what you had to to survive. I was once like you- a boy with dreams, hoping on cargo ships jumping from planet to planet, trying to become someone who slavers would be frightened of, return and defeat those who wronged me in the past. But I became something more than just a thug- I became a true warrior. A warrior knows the three disciplines. The mind, the body and the spirit- but that's a philosophical chat for another time! I am enjoying these drinks solo, and alcohol does make one a bit talkative.” Vos laughed, mostly at himself for a brief moment. “Would you like to become my apprentice? I can’t promise it will all be fun and games, but I see such potential in you.”

 

Tobias held out his hand- the meaning was clear: if Kota shook it- he would enter into the wonderful world of training. He had to decide though, as if it really were a decision. Although, Kota would be surprised to see a small party thrown for him so suddenly… Sandy and two others would soon be here. Tobias was glad this booth was big enough for all of them, and there was drinks for them all. As if he almost planned this…. His hand was still stretched out to Kota still, awaiting a reply.

 

~~~~~

 

Kota almost had shock take over his entire body. The man didn’t even bat an eyelash over the fact that he had killed on Taris. His own disbelief began to sink in. How in the whole galaxy can someone not have a reaction. Maybe the galaxy is much more tougher than I thought… Maybe I have a whole lot more to learn… He stared at his drink, only slightly and mildly aware that there was silence. That was, until he was offered something by Tobias. Apprentice? What did that even mean? He was a bit confused at the comment that he didn’t even bother to hide his own emotions. He blurted out his own response and somehow didn’t even realize that Tobias was holding out his hand.

 

“Umm… Apprentice? To what exactly?”

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Tobias Vos?

 

Frond had heard the name somewhere before. Glancing around, it did not seem if Sandy could see him. She did say he was her old master. He must have trained her. Like his fellow Mindwalkers, Frond had no doubt that Jedi who trained with one another developed a bond of sorts as well; even as he was now doing with Kel and Sandy. Closing his eyes, Frond allowed The Force to swirl unchecked around him. It passed through his body and spirit and touched his heart and very soul, binding it to the living and breathing force of The Force. Reaching out through the darkness of his closed eyes, Frond found the reverberating golden strand strong and thick that was his teacher. Nearby, he could feel the thinner fragile but growing strand of golden light that represented Kel. Concentrating, Frond began to gently follow along the lines as they intertwined with his own; they were bound together by The Force, reaching up into the dark void of the galaxy. Close enough, in the near history of sandy, he found a strong connection. It was not the strongest; there were others, but a strong connection nevertheless. Instinctively, Frond knew, this had to be Tobias Vos. The golden tendril was a part of Sandy’s past. Important as it was, this had to be Tobias.

 

As he inhaled and exhaled slowly, like only a plant could, Frond’s mind began to trace the lines, a myriad of golden and silver webs interconnecting across the planet and fading into the haze of the vast webs of the galaxy and beyond. Frond did not need to follow the lines that far out, thankfully. He was not sure that was something he could do. He was not afraid to get lost in intertwining webs of The Force; but he knew that he was not yet ready to be enveloped that far by that which was the truth. He was still bound to this mortal form, deceptive as it may be. Eventually he would be able to go that deep; once his spirit had been freed to nothing but The Force.

 

Following the quivering line that was still planet side, Frond was pleased to trace it to a nearby cantina. Opening his eyes, he smiled, at Sandy and Kel,

 

”Nearby Tobias Vos is cantina in.”

 

He whispered his voice the pleasant wind whispering through the canopies of any well-fed forests. Turning, he shuffled towards the cantina down the street and around the corner several blocks away. Setting off, Frond was content to try and find this Tobias. If he had a way to further their quest and a tie to Sandy, it seemed the only logical way to press forward on his own journey to bring balance between the light and the dark sides of The Force before the scales tipped even further.

 

Making his way to the doorway of the cantina, the Neti paused. The smells, sounds, and reverberations in The Force echoing from within were a cacophony of lecherous boozy desire, celebration, defeat, and lack of self-control.

 

Stepping inside, Frond paused, his eyes and mind scanning the crowds, the flashing lights and silver and golden threads blurring together as he tried to scan the room.

 

”Tobias Vos?”

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Tobias raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. He just assumed this young boy knew about the Jedi and becoming an apprentice or whatever. When he was a slave, he knew of it. Eventually came to that fate and well, now here he was. Blinking the shock away, he moved his right hand out to communicate a shrug. Then ran his gloved hand through his hair.

 

“My apologies, Kota. That was a bit forward. I am asking if you would like to become a skilled Force User. My apprentice. You know who the Jedi and Sith are? Of course you do, you’ve heard the stories.”

 

Tobias held out his hand again, this time with the palm up and something inside it. After a second, the thing in his palm was a white flame- then a black orb. “The light and dark sides of the Force- good versus evil, or whatever cliché’ it is. A few days ago I was on Kashyyyk, leading some Jedi into battle against Sith and their allies who had enslaved the wookiee people. Kota, I am asking if you want to become my apprentice. Learn from me the ways of the Force. Learn how to interpret premonitions you have, control aspects of the galaxy around us, how to fight, how to save whatever you hold dear. The Force surrounds us, binds us to one another. You, my young friend, can learn much if you desire.”

 

The illusion disappeared- not only the one in Tobias’s hands, but the one that had dimmed the rest of the Cantina and hushed the noise. They were part of the patrons again. Tobias held his smile and extended his hand over across the back of the bench he was on. “A bit to digest, I know. But no worries, either way. We will have company in just a moment or two, my apologies.” Tobias shrugged, tried to pick up a drink with his left hand and while wincing took a drink. He had to work his injured arm, just to test the muscles. Then, only because he was listening for it- he heard his name and winced again. Whoever had just said it was just speaking to themselves, but Tobias always tried to be subtle. Just in case someone caught it and brought down bad news.

 

All at once, he seemed to shed years away- his hair recolored without grey in it, wrinkles smoothed out and he seemed healthier. Even the bags under his eyes went away- but not entirely. The black eye he had received on Kashyyyk, even faded, could now be seen.

 

The tendril of Force energy that the newcomer was following pulled tight- as if pulling in a big fish- pulled taught to lead them over to the booth that held Kota and Tobias. Keeping his green eyes on the Togruta the entire time. There was something about the person who had called his name- something odd, but still familiar.

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The cantina was hushed as Sandy darted in behind her berobed wooden apprentice, the presence of her old master was alluring, though she knew it was not likely they could tarry long. As her wide eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cantina, Sandy’s nose also began to pick up the distinct smells that came with a dingy offworlder bar. Bleach, a quick, cheap cleaning solvent, and stale alcohol that had long ago permeated the wooden chairs, benches, and tabletops. She let her breath out through her nose and peaked around Frond, her bright blonde hair falling in a river across her shoulders.

 

“Hey Tobias!”

 

She grinned widely and giggled before coughing and bowing.

 

“I mean hello Jedi Master Tobias Vos, may I introduce my two apprentices, Frond here and Kel.” She pointed first to the tree like apprentice then to the Kel-Dor. She grinned and stuck her hand out towards Kota, a somewhat attractive male of her own age, the sleeve pulling up to reveal long scars. “Nice to meet you too by the way.” Then she blushed, the blood running into her pale cheeks to flush them red, save where white scars made thin lines.

 

“Oh gods I totally interrupted something important.”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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((Mild Trigger warning- last paragraph.))

 

Tobias did not stand to greet the newcomers, it appeared in his body language that he wanted to but injuries were holding him back. Besides, he was in mid-motion of taking a drink. A behemoth of a grin spread across Tobias's face. "Jedi Knight Sarna. A pleasure as always." He tried to act with more dignity than he had ever mustered before, but the act failed quickly. Letting out a combination of a snort and a laugh- he gestured to the drinks. "I was wondering when you all were going to show up thats why all these are here. Greetings, Frond, Kel. Of course you're interrupting, but that is a good thing- dramatic entrances are a key trait for Jedi. However-"

 

As Tobias observed the small human girl before him, he saw her scars- and a shiver ran down his back. That wasn't what initially caught his eye however thats just where his eyes were at the time- he looked at the apprentice named Frond. Tobias's face was like a marble statue now- except his eyes. Furiously he examined every speck of exotic alien, physically and through the Force. Could it be? Has he...? Yes, he has walked a very long path indeed. What all has he seen? Where has he come from? What were this one's goals? His mind racing after identifying a specific strand of Force energy coming from this one. He wanted to know more- but in front of Kota who was going to be overwhelmed as it is? Well, this could just be another test for the young boy- he was quick on his feet, let's see how he does under pressure and on-the-fly...

 

"-I was trying to talk my new friend, Kota, here into becoming my apprentice." the muscles in Tobias's face changed with his words- but he was still looking at Frond up until a second ago. Then quickly let his mind lose focus and his eyes to wonder around. He motioned for them to sit- moving his staff and keeping his left arm close to his chest he moved down the bench a little bit to make room for the new Jedi to sit. There was room in the booth of all of them and a drink for all of them- maybe. What do Kel'Dor's eat and drink with their breath-masks on? And trees? Whatever he wanted, Tobias was buying and to ease the awkward moment- "If anyone wants food or a different drink, it's on me, please, I know the appetites of apprentices." He chuckled, and sat back. Making sure he nodded an apology to Kota, and wish he would figure out his answer. Now, there was no rush. Besides, sitting here allowed him to look over Sandy- a little sister to him, one person he cared for almost as much as Adenna.

 

"What brings you all to Iridonia?" Tobias questioned, trying to get the group chatting. His green eyes moved back and forth between the new apprentices, occasional glances at Kota mixed in. Tobias knew this was a scene straight out of a holo-family-comedy-drama, and he was okay being a stereotype for the moment it covered up other things going on in his head.

Including not thinking about the Jedi Knight he had seen on Kashyyyk have her leg blown off and her screams, or the other Jedi Knight who had lived long enough to express the pain on half his face while the other side was burned away completely. Knights Bethany Li'Atholo, a human, and Rafanta, a Chev. He took another drink as the question lingered.

 

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Frond shuffled after Sandy, his height and appearance lending aid to their already distinctly Jedi bearing as the crowds parted around them amongst the dim of the cantina. As they came up to the table where Kota and Tobias sat, Frond was initially surprised by the eyeballing he was receiving from Tobias. Still, Familiar one about this something is there, he pondered. This Tobias had an aura about him that he had not sensed as he followed the golden strands here.

 

Carefully, with no small amount of scraping of wood on plastic, Frond squeezed into the booth at the table alongside Kota, offering up an intriguingly odd, if not warm wooden smile, ”Kota greetings. My Frond is name.” Gingerly he picked up what passed for a glass of dehydrogenated oxide and took a sip. The tree-like being grimaced ever so slightly at the taste of the numerous microscopic pollutants within the tap water. ”To balance The Force bring we shall,” he offered as a brief explanation as to his own apprenticeship status, before adding, Mindwalker, The Force am I serving. Truth following. Things Beyond Shadows I seen have.

 

Shooting a glance at Tobias, he slowly winked one wooden eye, a trait he had discovered many animal-based senients used for all manner of conveyances of thoughts, feelings, and emotion. ” Balance restore our journey to we begin must. Use to us great be lightsabers will.“

 

As he finished speaking, he pondered. Perhaps he had spoken out of turn. Was it customary for Jedi Masters to speak and apprentices to remain silent? That was the way of many faiths throughout the galaxy. He did not let the thought trouble him for more than a moment. If that was the case, he was sure his offense would not be too great. After all, he did have his mater by several thousand years, did he not? In any traditional training he would have been the master and she his infantile apprentice. The ways of The Force were a mystery to all; especially amongst this false narrative that they all were forced to dance in.

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How to save whatever you hold dear, those words rang loudly within Kota’s own mind over and over again. They were alluring, tempting in every way possible to him. He wanted to know more badly, but then there was a tree looking thing that was talking, along with a few others. He was a bit surprised to see that at one of them knew Tobias. In fact, the one that did know him was a very beautiful girl. Had the bench of the booth he was in had been higher to the table, he was sure everyone would have heard the clear bang upon the table.

 

He took her hand in a quick handshake, to which he felt his body temperature go up upon even touching her hand. He took a long moment to stare at her as Tobias spoke, recounting some tale. He didn’t really know. His mind was not at all on him, but the girl who held a very passive, beauty that he couldn’t shake. He found himself smiling for no reason at all and was only able to break it by the fact that a branch looking thing was in his face. It was then that he realized that the creature who called himself Frond was sitting in the booth with him. He tried to not looked concerned and instead offered up a smile to him.

 

Frond began to talk about balance and the Force himself. His speech was something that was hard to follow, yet Kota was able to figure out what he wanted to say… with a lot of focus. After he was done, Frond seemed to gain a look of concern for what he had said or something different. Refusing to make eye contact with the beautiful girl, he looked right at Tobias to see why the creature felt the way he did, only to see a look on Tobias’ own face that hinted he was waiting on Kota to respond. It then clicked that he did in fact, not respond to his offer.

 

“Oh! Fierfek! I’m sorry. Yes, my answer is yes.”

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Sandy let her gaze drop from Tobias’ face to be drawn to the red and white face of his new apprentice. Since she had opened herself to the force she could vaguely feel his emotions overflowing and his apparent attraction to her. She let a soft smile cover her face as she sat down across from him and she accessessed the datapad attached to the table and ordered herself a plate of fried and battered bantha cheese.

 

Why would he be attracted to me? Why me?

She smiled widely at both Tobias and Kota in an attempt to keep her thoughts away. She was a Jedi knight now and entertaining that kind of thought about an apprentice was like kick worthy. But still he had very handsome features and his jawline was well defined.

 

“Yes Master Tobias as Frond said we are heading to Ilum to get lightsabre crystals for sabre construction, I intend to harvest some to build my own lightsabre as well since I have only ever used the one given to me by Relmis.”

 

Then her emerald green eyes sought Kota’s.

 

“Tell me about yourself Kota, what brings you to the life of the Jedi?”

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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As Sandy stated her intentions, Tobias realized how unprepared he was for an apprentice. There was such a flurry of activity surrounding their path at the moment he had trained his friend and the realization that Sandy had not constructed her light saber hit him like licking a power conduit. Here Tobias was with a crystal that was tuned to him in the hidden weapon in his lap, and no one else had a crystal unique to them at the table. Passively, he looked around at his four compatriots in the booth. He helped train Sandy, and now she was training not one but two new adepts. Had he prepared her for this? Assisted her to prepare for this? Or was the appointment to Jedi Knight a major confidence booster to her? As his mind started to swirl, lesson plans flowed into the mix- the Togruta was strong with the Force to be sure, but Tobias was unsure of what exactly to do with a fresh lump of clay so to speak.

 

While his mind spun, it never once crossed his mind that this meeting was an accident; Suddenly fearful that he was in over his head. What to do with this lump of clay? What should he make? A servant, an agent, a Jedi, an Imperial Knight? A Sith? He could do each- but why? Each of those sounded too constraining- too bordered. However, Tobias knew he was considered a Jedi Master- and he stepped up to the challenge at the time, and continued to do so. His mind still a blender of half concocted schemes, some ideas that were out of the box, and others that pulled it down into a boiling cauldron. It was his time to cook it all down into something that would feed Kota's appetite and needs to become whatever that entailed.

 

Drawing back his prescience in the Force, he did make sure to order some food for the group as well- whatever the waitress droid decided on each's particular biology- to the extent of the cantina's menu. After only a few short minutes- the droid came back and they started to eat. At least, Vos did. Leaning back to rest is back and left arm a little, he pondered tagging along with Sandy to Ilum, to get crystals for Kota's blade. The apprentice was a fighter- and Tobias led a dangerous life. The kid did need a blade, but perhaps not a lightsaber so soon- just a training blade. For just a moment Tobias regretted handing in his non-lethal blade to Darex on Kashyyyk was a confusing act of protest on his part. Trying to lead by example was not going to change anyone's mind. Why should he put himself at risk with a non-lethal blade when he was shunted away?

 

Stopping mid-thought, he had come to the full construction of the first set of ideals and goals to train Kota in. Retraining himself in a sort of way. The plan needed to boil down a bit more. More liquor was the best possible solution he could come up with- and so one he went with another glass. At least there was now food to soak up some alcohol in his belly. While he dipped some Rockaroor Fries into the Rancor Sauce, Tobias let the conversation start to pick up.

 

Kota's answer would be an enlightening one, but also to figure out where the Kel'Dor and the Tree were coming from themselves. And, he needed to dig into the Jedi records- what was Padawan Frond, exactly? Species wise... Krif it, go big or go back to the moisture farm. "Apprentice Frond, you mindwalk?"

 

As Frond nooded just once to the question- Tobias let that answer soak in.

 

"And you go wandering Beyond Shadows? Interesting. Have you ever been Beyond the Veil?" Tobias was excited, perhaps a bit too much but Frond had traveled where he had only a few years ago and he couldn't help but want to dive into the subject.

 

Beside him, a datapad buzzed in a pattern that Tobias recognized as the ship was restocked, and ready for flight.

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Kel followed Frond and Sarna to a cantina where they came across their master's master Tobias Vos and a young togruta who introduced himself as Kota. It didn't take a jedi to figure out he found their master attractive from his body language and how he stared at her. Normally he'd call him a pervert just to get on his nerves, but he doubted that neither Sarna or Tobias would appreciate would appreciate him causing a scuffle. The three of us sat down at the booth and tobias was kind enough to order meals for the group.

 

"My name is Kel Koon. It's a pleasure to meet you master Vos. And you as well Kota. As my compatriots have said, we are heading to Ilum to obtain crystals in order to construct light sabers of our own. Right now, we're looking for someone that can arrange a transport for us. it would help us a great deal if you could point us in the right direction."

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