9.015 - Ours is Not to Question Why

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Acting Captain.

He'd read the encrypted communique from Dac and looked at it like it was the aftermath of a bomb going off. He'd just gotten over the growing pains of being promoted once, and this second time was just cruelty. Fleet command had been briefed about the ongoing situation with Sanis. They had (secondary) orders to find him, but it was clear that command was moving on. The greater war effort couldn't wait for Sanis to be found. Despite every part of him wanting to rage and defy what was in front of him, he knew what was being demanded of him.

He hated it, but it wasn't his choice. No, he and Sanis had long ago made up their minds about that sort of thing, didn't they? Cast their lot.

Lok s'Ilancy was still onboard, but the role had changed. She was a liason, offering guidance and advice as he acclimated himself to command, but giving him just enough room to fly, or just enough rope to hang himself. Cirr winced, gulping away his own nagging thoughts of inadequacy. It would be too easy for him to say that he wasn't prepared for the task. He simply had to be ready.

Enough moping.

He stood from his desk, tugged down at the hemline of his jacket to straighten it as he looked in the mirror across the room. Captain of the Alliance. The extra pip on his chest weighed a ton, at least in his mind. Time to act like he knew how to carry the weight.

He headed for the bridge.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Captain on the bridge!"

The ensign called out loud enough to be heard on a bridge twice the size. Right into Cirr's sensitive ears. The felinoid took pains to not make a face at it, and kept heading for his seat. After all, what could he say? It wouldn't come out any better than him sounding like a grump. Before he could stew on this for long, the comms officer was looking up from what looked like a dispatch.

"Captain, we've got directives inbound from fleet command. We've lost three freighters in the past two weeks near Ryloth, and they suspect pirate activity."

Cirr had to suppress a scoff. Suspecting pirate activity near Ryloth was like suspecting disappearing cake near a fat girl. Sure he was cynical from his smuggling days, but even if you wore too much starch in your collar, how do you not know to fly those lanes double fast and extra paranoid even in the best days?

Still, this was something familiar for him, and probably an easy win. At least that's how he imagined somebody on Dac would be floating it. A greenhorn Captain on a light corvette? Sure, send him to the hairy ass of the Outer Rim and chase some flea-bitten Weequay corsairs to make sure he can shoot straight.

A bit of an exhale, and a bit of a shrug.

"Coorrdjinates forr Rryloth, then."

Was he supposed to make a speech here or something? He hoped not.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

s'Il stepped onto the bridge much the same way that she always did, though now it was not as ships' captain. No, that had been given over to Cirr while she herself assumed the role of adviser. Even though it was certainly not permanent, she welcomed the chance to help her Cizerack friend acclimate. It was a pleasant enough change of pace from her usual duties aboard the Dauntless, and despite the nature of the last communique she'd received from her temporary replacement - the poor man claimed Dan to be nothing less than an absent-minded tyrant unwilling to do his own paperwork - she was determined to stay until she was satisfied with Cirr's performance.

The doors closed behind her, and her eye swept those around her. Cirr towered over all, and as she came around to stand beside him, the Lupine clasped her hands at the small of her back.

She could smell his uncertainty. His body language conveyed that sort of nervous tension that could be read like a book, and from her peripheral vision she saw him lick his lips, as though he was unsure if he should say something more.

Leaning over slightly, she spoke in a bare-whisper, knowing that none but him would hear.

"No speech."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

There was always that pesky question in the back of Cirr's head whenever he hung around Lok s'Ilancy. Did she pick him apart because she was a Jedi and had that natural advantage, or because he telegraphed himself on his sleeve? He winced a little, hoping it was the former, despite how unnerving that prospect still was.

"Thanks."

The ship began to adjust its trajectory, and the hyperdrive started to spool. It felt different than it did back on Layla, but you could still hear and feel it coming. The helm called off coordinates to match, and the checkdown to light speed rolled off like clockwork.

After the jump, the bridge crew returned to a sense of normalcy. Ryloth would be a good hour's traverse through the ether. Enough time to suss out where they were going and what they were doing.

"Ljieutenant Malljin, forrwarrd the mjissjion brrjief to mjy offjice."

The comm officer gave an affirmative, and Cirr rose from his seat, headed to his ready room. He glanced back at s'Il to follow.

Hopefully she wouldn't pry at the thought simmering on his brain right now - that they had a much more important mission that they simply weren't allowed to give precedence. Truth is, he was beginning to envy that kind of natural lackadaisical style Sanis had when running things on Layla. For someone so shifty and contemptuous of order and authority, he had a talent for knowing exactly how to do what was needed when it came right down to it. If Sanis was sitting in his ready room and Cirr still had Captain's pips, what would he ask him?

That he didn't even have those questions on hand worried him. Everything Cirrsseeto did was deliberate and premeditated. He'd have to find his own style.

Sitting down across from s'Il, he brought up a holo with all data on their mission, expanding it for both of them to see.

"The frrejighterrs we lost look to have one thjing jin common jin thejirr manjifests: bacta."

Confusion spread on his face.

"That's a hot tjicket, no? Why no escorrt jif we'rre pulljing somethjing ljike that? Trryjing to sljip underr the rradarr?"

The Hutt kadjics were usual suspects here. They held clout in Ryloth and probably had the ability to sniff out a clandestine run. But anybody with a few guns and good instincts could be on that drop. The fact that the freighters were hit over a period of time and didn't deviate though?

"You had some dealjings wjith the Hutts back jin the earrly Rrebelljion, no?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

That question brought forth a flood of memories; good, bad, and some most definitely bizarre.

"There were... events that transpired back then, yes."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

His ears lifted, expecting to hear more than he got, and lowered again when he realized that probably wasn't coming. Probably a story he didn't want to hear.

"One shjip, jI can see us losjing ljike that. But thrree? All arround the same arrea?"

He was letting unanswered questions hang in the air between them.

"Feels ljike a joke jI'm mjissjing the punchljine to. Ljike we'rre savjing somebody's face forr bejing stupjid enough to send those shjips out."

He was never this openly cynical, and had to wonder if that was overcompensation for not hearing the same words that Sanis would probably say about all of this.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Leaning back in her seat, s'Il folded her hands in her lap, fingers lacing together as she thought on his words. It was a sensitive situation yes, and one that required a small amount of delicacy to explain.

What she knew, and what she was allowed to speak of were two different things.

"To say that we're saving someone from the ultimate repercussions of their percieved blunder is certainly one way to think of this."

She paused, then went on.

"But unfortunately incorrect.

"Those freighters had no escorts. For a reason."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

He had to remind himself that this woman shared a bed with and was privy to the mind of one of the most prominent figures in the Alliance military. That thought didn't always give him comfort. It was simpler when she was just their Jedi guardian angel.

He raised his eyebrows a bit.

"We wanted somebody to take those shjips. The Hutts?"

Now that he had that question, it led to others.

"To take ourr bacta, orr at least what we'rre sayjing was bacta?"

Clever.

"...somewherre we couldn't. Orr somewherre we'd need a lot of forrce to deljiverr?

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The look she gave him was a knowing one. Cirr was smarter than he gave himself credit for in matters such as these, and she nodded.

"There are certain elements that can indeed place themselves in areas that the Alliance cannot yet tread. And until we can, those elements are necessary and useful."

The Lupine made an odd face.

"To a degree at least. We do what we must with the tools we are given."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

He inwardly wondered what the Hutts demanded in return for this charade. Probably something he didn't want to know. Shaking his head a little to dismiss his non sequitur thoughts, he clasped his hands together in front of him.

"So we'rre not even huntjing pjirrates. Just makjing a show."

Which was even more of an insult. The galactic politik was beyond his pay grade, but he'd give it the benefit of the doubt. It still stung though.

He flicked his ears a little, straightening in his seat.

"Well, jI'll do my parrt to look convjincjing."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"It isn't enjoyable, this charade, but at times we are required to look and act a certain way."

s'Il, in opposite reaction to Cirr, leaned back in her seat with an almost galaxy-weary sigh.

"Things were not always as such though. There was a time when this ship did not play host to masquerades of this sort."

She smiled as she looked to her charge.

"And it will again. This mission is not meant to insult, I promise you."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr waved off the perceived slight.

"jI know therre's a warr on. That's why jI'm herre. Sanjis..."

He chewed on his words a moment.

"...wjill have to wajit."

As much as he was loathe to admit it, barging into a Black Sun stronghold with an Alliance frigate with all tubes blazing wasn't going to solve this mess. A few words, somebody willing to point in the right direction, and a shuttle with a handful of gunslingers, maybe. Pie in the sky stuff for now.

Tucking that aside, the Captain flipped up a holo of Ryloth and it's surrounding star system.

"Forrtunately, we pjicked a good system forr thjis ljie to worrk. Rryloth gets herr fajirr sharre of pjirrates, and they've even been actjive rrecently frrom what ourr scouts say. How ourr bacta made jit thrrough wjithout bejing jinterrcepted jis jinterrestjing."

He shrugged.

"No doubt therre's a Hutt to answer that questjion too."

A few keystrokes, and he drew up a few patrol outlines.

"jI can cerrtajinly fly the colorrs. Put ourr squadrron on a wjide pjicket, and make surre we'rre seen."

He chuckled a little.

"Maybe we'll rrun jinto an actual enemy. jI don't suppose you'rre agajinst advanced negotjiatjions jif we have to boarrd some rrusty old skjiff?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was a knowing smile, and the Lupine spread her hands a little bit as she dipped her head.

"I am here to serve."

The moment passed, and she once more settled her arms upon the rests.

"How you handle this is ultimately up to you. I am here to guide and advise. Whether you take what I offer is another story."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr didn't respond with anything beyond a nod. This was, if anything, a guided trial for him. He was already a newly-minted Commander before all this, and now? He wasn't too proud to admit he might lean on that advice.

"Djismjissed."

Even that statement took some getting used to. The authority to command and lead, even to some extent a Jedi. This was his ship.



* * *




Novgorod splashed onto realspace beyond the mass shadows of Ryloth and her sister worlds and moons. Her predatory contours caught glints of faraway starlight as she banked along a parabola, easing into a patrol course at full sublight. A scant minute later, her ventral hull plating split open, disgorging a mixed squadron of A-Wings and X-Wings, which soon cast a wide net around their mother ship, spreading to cover a considerable swath of space.

On the bridge, Captain Raurrssatta waited for telemetry to flood in. While his frigate's sensors were good, it was sound doctrine to always pair that with other sources for added range and the clarity that multiple source triangulation offered. A numbers wonk, he insisted on the information being fed graphically onto the viewer and to his near-side holoprojector, giving him a busy multimedia representation of his battlespace.

All quiet.

He looked to s'Ilancy with a passive glance, as if to acknowledge the obvious.

"Any sjign of comm chatterr?"

The comms officer, Ruria, shook her head.

"Nothing deep system. Nearest signatures are planetary nav buoys on Ryloth approach."

In other words, no nibbles. Even if fictional pirates became real ones, none were stupid enough to spring an attack that close to a populated planet with witnesses, at least unless they were supremely confident in getting away with it. That being said, Cirr's mission was to be thorough.

"Fjilterr thrrough the garrbage, see jif anythjing falls out."

That ought to be a nice bit of boring work to keep his comms officer busy.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Sitting quietly, s'Il put off a deceptively casual air as she watched the minimal activity around her. She listened as Cirr gave out his orders, blinking as she leaned back ever-so-slightly in her seat.

For now, all was quiet, but it was always that sort of quiet that was the most disconcerting. The possibilities of what might happen was prevalent upon the minds of everyone, and because of that the tension on the bridge was a noticeable thing.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

This was boring as hell. Cirr tried to look anything other than bored. Also he was hungry, and while he wasn't the most button-down officer in the Navy, he was pretty sure that eating at your post was unbecoming of a command. Instead, he aligned last-known flight trajectories of the three freighters along their search vector, and pored over the data. A hopeless nerd when it came to logistics, getting into the weeds was cathartic.

"Captain..."

Ensign Saine suddenly straightened in her seat, then leaned over her terminal. Something had obviously caught her eye. Relieved at the thought of something noteworthy, Cirr swiveled his chair slightly in the ensign's direction.

"...I'm picking up a mass signature. Fairly small, and in motion. It's well off any used traffic vector in the system."

That in itself didn't mean anything. It wasn't a crime to go off vector, it just wasn't the norm. Still, they were here to investigate, weren't they? Would be remiss of him to leap at an opportunity.

"Put Gold 3 and Gold 7 on an jinterrcept. Marrk jit on the grrjid."

A yellow circle appeared, tucked within a handful of moons around the major gas giant in the system. It was in motion, but not in a hurry to get anywhere. Cirr glanced at s'Ilancy, and spoke low.

"Prrobably just joyrrjiderrs."

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo wiped a trickle of whisky off his chin with the back of his hand as he leaned closer to his viewscreen.

"Hah, y'look a' this?"

A motley gang of Weequay, Gand, and Human pirates grumbled on the bridge of the Weequay pirate ship Prent called home.

"Now you fuckin' tell me there ain't no money in this system, eh? Them Rebels a' least got the message to send an armed ship this time."

Unlike the corsairs skulking between ice moons, there wasn't anything at all subtle about Novgorod entering the system. They stuck to the wide open lanes, and spread a net of fighters.

"Ledo, that's the point, mate. They's armed. Ain't an easy take. Let it ride!"

The Weequay, Grelk, sniffed a bit as he scowled, leaning against a hand rail as he watched the frigate pass.

Ledo Prent, the Rancor of Malastare (it was a pending nickname, he was still in the process of kicking enough asses and saying it enough to make it stick) glowered at Grelk, swirling the contents of his whisky bottle. He was right, of course. You didn't get rich, famous, and laid by matching strength against strength and risking your ass when it didn't need to be risked. You took the easy with the big payout.

"If only we'd been on them others when they'd shown, boyos. Neck deep in bacta, you fucks. Neck fuckin' deep."

He spat. So much for passed opportunities.

"Go on, 'en. Piss off. This party's over, ain't it? To greener pastures, boyos. Less find some easier pussy, eh?"

A string of Weequay curse words caused Ledo to look sideways. Another pirate, manning a sensor terminal, quickly slapped his readings onto the main viewer.

"Fighters inbound, Cap'n. You was sayin?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

This was not a ship that she knew. She had been briefed extensively on those who'd been chosen to take the bacta, and while s'Il was not about to reveal entirely the classified nature of those meetings, she knew that this new little wrinkle had the potential to cause problems.

Her brow furrowed in thought, as the readout spat information.

This ship was not one of their hired handlers, and the Lupine did not particularly find herself at ease with the notion that one who was not in the Alliance's employ was now plying the lanes in this region. Of course, it stood to reason that news of easy bacta grabs would spread, and while unfortunate, it provided a fair amount of more realism to this whole game.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Captain..."

"jI see jit, jI see jit. Helm, let's go!"

The quickened tone from Saine timed just right with a change of vector and acceleration from the blip on the screen. In a moment, they too were adjusting to intercept. The net of fighters drew in tight, flanking Novgorod as they headed for the gas giant.

"Can we get a rread on the shjip?"

Saine shook her head.

"Whoever they are, they're jamming sensors. Somebody's gonna have to catch a visual."

Cirr looked to s'Ilancy, shaking his head.

"That doesn't sound ljike joyrrjiderrs to me. Guess we get to have fun afterr all, eh?"

[Kidd Smix]

A couple of A-Wings broke formation, peeling off in the direction of twin moons huddled over Ryloth, and in a matter of seconds the pale blaze of sublights diffused into the shimmering starscape. In a stuffy cockpit, Kidd Smix, the newly-minted member of Gold Squadron, plucked anxiously at his collar and took a deep breath. It was his first mission in months, and so much had changed since the incident at Strombard IV, not least of all the insignia on his arm. Gone were his fishbowl visor and Imperial blacks, replaced by a sweat-slick flightsuit and second-hand helmet that made his ears itch. Motley was a word used by snooty officers to smear the reputation of rebels, but himself a product of humble roots, Ensign Smix embraced the familial comfort of his hand-me-downs. It remained to be seen, however, whether or not he was capable of filling the boots of the men who had gone before him.

Suddenly, over the ambiance of humming engines sounded a series of sensor blips, lights started to flash in frantic rhythm with the computer, casting the cockpit in a stark amber haze. Into his ear wormed the hoarse voice of his wingman, prompting confirmation of the readings, Kidd obliged, and the fighters altered course away from the scorched copper glow of Ryloth, swinging into the shadow between its conspiring moons. His pulse quickened and he sucked a long tremulous breath of stale air from his cockpit, into which he had been packed and sealed like fresh meat, and now it was as if the hull itself constricted to draw the very life from him.

"Tribb Obo. Corellian fullback. Twenty-eight years old. Played... six seasons with the Dreadnaughts. Scored twice in his last game against... the Rancors. Jalabba Rix. Twi'lekki forward. Thirty... two. Fourteen seasons with the Dreadnaughts. Scored a hat-trick against the Durasteelers. Marvolo Jo. Corellian defender. Nineteen..."

By the time he'd successfully listed half of the Corellian Dreadnaughts team and their accomplishments, Kidd was calm and the alarming tremor in his hands had subsided. Once again, he feathered the yoke and drifted into neat alignment with his counterpart, and not a moment too soon. Out of the gloom winked a thin sliver of light, it was a smooth disc blazing gold as it caught the sun, and it swelled ever rapidly in the transparisteel viewport. Kidd activated the comm:

"Novgorod, this is Gold Three. I have a visual on the unidentified vessel. It's- it's a uh- it's a flying saucer. Like nothin' I ain't ever seen before... Over."