Naboo

[Moose]

Jackson sighed wistfully as his ship made landfall, and he began prepping for disembark. In light of all the recent events he felt that it may be necessary, in the end, to take a day or two to just... breathe. And he could think of no better place for it than Naboo.

 

A rude snort echoed from inside the newly-minted Knight's enviro-helmet. "Yeah, right."

 

The truth was that he still had some old Nubian parts in his bay, and he wanted to get rid of them. Most people in the outer rim didn't particularly care for the shined-chrome look of the things or their parts, was the issue, so they had mostly just been sitting in his bay gathering dust. If he tried he might even be able to put together a whole ship or two with them all, there were so many. But then, that's what happened when you came across an old smuggling transport full of the things.

 

The Jedi had some old contacts who swung through Naboo every now and then, so it was a good place to pick up leads on where they might be now. It would even be a good excuse to give his senses some practice, as he made a point to use the force to people-watch in his section of hangar. And good thing, too, as not long after he started paying attention Jack happened to notice something he'd been getting rather familiar with lately: the distinctly blue aura of another Jedi. She wore a red and gold tunic, and something about her just drew the young man's attention in. Upon thinking for a few moments, he realized what exactly it was.

 

"Excuse me, miss." Bloome lead with as he set himself on an intercept. "My apologies, I'm unfamiliar with who exactly who are as I have been out of the loop for some time now, but you have excellent control. Would you mind if I asked you for some tips, or for a pointer to your own teacher?"

[Moose]

"Jackson Bloome. Newly reinstated Knight, and hunter of wraiths." The fully-enclosed Knight replied, his speakers crackling slightly from the residual moisture of Felucia. His exosuit didn't particularly appreciate such humid climates anymore; not after so much hard use and wear. "Pardon my sound quality, haven't had the time to fully detail my kit. If any of you happen to be interested in mostly old parts, by the way, let me know."

 

A gloved hand jerked up, thumb pointing over the man's shoulder to his still-open cargo bay. The local inspectors were sending in a team to sort through and catalog everything on the Plunder's manifest, hopefully without tipping over any of the delicately balanced racks or shelves full of expensive components. That cargo box could hold quite a lot of stuff normally, and Jackson had it so stuffed full that it would make a Jawa blush.

 

The Knight turned to regard the lead Trandoshan after that, giving him a firm nod of respect. "I was an apprentice not so long ago myself. I don't know your circumstances, but if there's anything you'd like help with, from one relative newcomer to another, I'd be happy to help as much as I can. I know things can be confusing and a little... dubious, when you're just getting started."

 

Meanwhile, as Jackson spoke, he was busily dedicating himself to practicing, just as he had been for nearly the entire trip to Naboo. He was still too slow; too sluggish with his abilities; too weak. And while part of that could be remedied just with practice, he was beginning to suspect that a fundamental change would have to take place before too long: some kind of change to his perspective that would free his soul from its current, tight, restraints.

 

For now, however, he was stuck practicing. Integrating with and releasing the surrounding energy in rhythmic pulses; mimicking wave patterns; subtly shifting to match certain nearby frequencies and appearances.

Edited June 4, 2021 by Moose

[Moose]

Jackson rattled off an amused chortle as his helmet tracked the Trandoshan over to the Plunder's cargo bay. It brought to mind simpler times, and reminded the newly crowned Knight of his own history, down in the undercity. "Not a problem, don't worry about it. I was like that too, not long ago. If I had more time to dedicate to it I'd deal with the lot myself, but there's been a slight shift in my priorities lately."

 

He turned to face the Sentinel, after that, flexing the tendril connecting him to his ship while he examined the presented work. "Yes, that is partly why I have been trying to seek you folks out. It may be hard to tell but I'm a little bit of a gearhead." The Knight gestured loosely to his person, covered in gadgets as he was. "But... yes! I would be honored to accompany your party, if you'd have me." His attention abruptly shifted as he reluctantly withdrew from the shield, already subtly restructuring the way he managed his own force energy. The changes didn't happen all at once, nor were they particularly easy to see as he neared the end, given the increasingly empty nature of his aura.

 

"I am admittedly not the best with diplomacy, but I've been living in a pilot's chair for the past three years or so in my absence. Should be able to get you wherever you need to go. Or help fight off Starweirds, although I don't foresee them being much of a problem on Naboo, of all places."

[Moose]

Jackson turned his head up as he heard the sound of capital ships leaving hyperspace. It was a distinct experience that he had specifically gone out of his way to avoid since he left Coruscant behind him and for good reason. Every hair on his body stood on end under his exosuit from the brief flash of memory, before it was abruptly cut off and silenced. The Knight had better things to do than sit and gawk, and every moment mattered.

 

A simple nod was all he offered before turning and running back to his ship. His cargo would need to be dumped after all, unfortunately for both him and the aspiring Trandoshan gearhead investigating its contents. There was no other way he would have the space to transport all the command personnel around, and even then it was going to be tight. Hopefully, they'd even be ready by the time he was done emptying his cargo pod.

 

Meanwhile, inside the Transient Plunder, switches began to flick and capacitors discharged as pre-flight warmup began. The ship had been with Jackson for a good while, and though it was fueled by imminent tragedy, the Jedi Knight was almost looking forward to honing his new understanding in the conflict ahead. He had already been assisting his flight with the force before, but he had a better idea of just how to take advantage of it now. Even if his glimpse into the inner workings of Alcmène's energy shield had been too brief for his liking.

 

Hidden thrusters and lamps ignited as the old Wayfarer's owner approached, giving anyone aboard or nearby just enough time to evacuate before lifting ponderously off of its landing platform. The knight charged ahead heedless of the flaring engines and leaped high into the bay. His mag boots locked him down against the cold metal floor and the entire ship began to tilt and list to one side, quickly beginning to eject its cargo through the larger, newly-opened hangar doors on the side of the rectangular pod. He wouldn't be needing the platform again and there were few other places for it, unfortunately, though a few of his real gems were kept safe inside of his repurposed smuggling compartment.

 

The ship was quick to move into action after that; scooping up as many of the local command and support staff as it could possibly hold, sometimes almost literally, as it broadcast a short burst of instructions to the pilots Jackson had been put in charge of evacuating. They were going to need to stick close and keep their eyes open because he was going to lead them through the battle as quickly and as close to the ground as they could manage. Naboo was a wonderful planet, but by the end of everything, he was going to scorch their escape through its hills and valleys. He could help disguise them to a point, with the force and creative use of the planet and its sun, but if they didn't move quickly then there would be no escaping the invasion. Not as it crashed into and burned through the very earth they stood on.

[Moose]

Low above the streets of Theed, three groups of two fighter squadrons followed a surprisingly agile freighter as it barreled and twisted its way through corridors, between buildings, and low above archways. The only targets they engaged were those directly in front of them, despite the reluctance of some of the pilots. Their path was too twisting and complex to allow for much else, though the path did bring them through the air above the Queen and her guard. Jackson had enough sense to help them out with a brief flyby as needed, before blasting his engines into gear as he guided his fighters to safety.

Once they breached the city walls the Plunder swooped low along the rolling hills and used them as cover. Their path began to follow the low dips and shallow valleys that Naboo's surface was famed for from them onwards, before arriving at their destination: a spot below the quickly forming blockade, where they could slip through. Given that they were fast enough and, of course, that they were unmolested in their full-throttle attempt at escape.

-

Jackson sealed his ship as they gained altitude, refusing to dwell on their trip and looking forward, instead, to investigate their gradually closing escape vector. They were no longer covered by anything besides themselves and his aura, which was actively shifting and hiding them beneath the fierce gazes of their enemies. The young Knight had been spending more and more time practicing his ability to use the force around him to color his own, in order to mimic the environment wherever he might be, but it was the first time he had been put in charge of so many lives before. His ship he could cover without too much difficulty, but extending it out to cover the six squadrons around him was a strain on his senses.

 

A small warning light flashed at the pilot's closed eyes, briefly illuminating an angry vein on his forehead and a thin red line trickling down his lips from his nose. They were approaching the gap and he was pushing his concentrating to its utmost; he would get these people to safety, in friendly arms, it was just a question of how well he covered them from the detection of someone important. Or dangerous. If they made it through the gap then their destination would be the far side of the star, which they would use as cover get to their last eventual destination. Nar Shadaa, where they would rendezvous with friendly forces and recuperate as needed. It was going to be a decent trek through the galaxy but they would be safe there, at the least.

 

But first they had to slip out from under this net before it was settled and drawn in, and without losing everyone in the process.

[Moose]

Meanwhile, far above, a certain pilot was busy guiding his charges through the fighter net and out to safety. Jackson swallowed blood and cursed his bloody nose as he did a quick head-count, roughly ensuring that all of his squadrons were still intact before setting them over on a course to the sun. They would be swinging wide of course, to stay out of anyone's sightlines, and dispersed so they weren't a nice big blob of easily destroyed targets. He would maneuver them around the opposite side of the local star before taking their chances with a series of jumps, sending them more or less directly to Nar Shadaa.

He would need some time to recover, himself, as his thoughts had begun to stray a little further than comfortable in his escape. The young Knight could recognize at least that much about himself, and it made him a little wary. He would have to discuss it with some of the more experienced knights and masters, to see if they would have any advice or guidance he could use to control such things.

-

A distant thrum pulsed through the Transient Plunder's engines and thrusters as they whorled and guided their craft through the darkness of space. The deep black was comforting in its familiarity for the pilot of the craft, though he certainly didn't stick around to revel in the nostalgia. Their trip around the sun was kept short and sweet, only skirting around so wide to keep their outlines out of the views of any keen-eyed pilots. It wouldn't do to escape the blockade, only to lose his ship and the lives it carried to a few squads of fighters.

[Moose]

High in the stars far above, a cluster of fighter squadrons lead by an old freighter powered up their hyperdrives. The journey there had been long and arduous, though it wasn't quite over yet. They still had another few stops to make before they could step down from their battle-heightened senses and allow their weary, aching minds some much-needed and much-deserved rest. One pilot in particular, lagging behind the rest in the Wayfarer, was in some desperate need of recharging.

--

Jackson's helmet flashed a warning light at him as he bled inside of it. It had begun flashing at him ever since his nose had begun to bleed, probably warning him of the increased blood pressure and heart rate. If he continued to strain himself to such a degree he would likely be liable to have a heart attack or something, but that would be a small price to pay for getting his charges all to safety.

A whole cargo hold full of them.

--

Stars elongated and the cosmos shifted around the many ships as they began to jump, following one another in clusters as they fled the warring system. They would return, some day, and be stronger for it. But that would take time, and time was one of the many things that they were now running short on.