Heroes Welcome

[Sanis Prent]

OOC: Taking place immediately after Outlaw's End (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?goto=newpost&t=21642) and at the same time of Wheels within Wheels (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=21415)

The Black Cat lay empty, save for two.

The Jedi, defying all odds and making the impossible a reality had exited the ship with their prize. Serena Laran, though savaged by the tortures of the Inquisitorius, was in stable condition and would survive. The Rebels who had helped bloody the Empire's nose in their most fortified enclave, had also debarked to celebrate their daring rescue.

It might as well have been happening in a different universe away from me.

Eschewing the seat up front, I sat against a bulkhead in the back, near the rear hatch.

"No."

It was a word I'd uttered with futility, a sound as low as breathing. It was the only thing I could say, the only thing that could come close to expressing the price I'd paid.

Layla was more than tons of durasteel. More than a ship. More than my means of making a living and more than my home. And she was gone.

"No."

Now what?

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr, unable to swallow down his rage any longer, snapped.

Kuura'ja haato na kai!!!

Fists slammed on the console, again, and again, and again, throwing up sparks that only ignited the fire inside the Cizerack engineer, who bolted up from his seat and proceeded to wrench the seat itself off it's durasteel post, and with no better outlet for his anger, to throw it clean out the back of the ship.

"Indaari kua nai wa!! Nai waaaa!!! Godddamnjit!!"

[Sanis Prent]

"Calm the fuck down, will you?"

I spoke, but there wasn't any real force behind my words, as I looked to the floor.

"So our ship exploded, not the end of the fucking galaxy, right?"

Laughing seemed to just be an exercise in keeping up appearances, so I did just that. I laughed deliriously.

"I mean, shit, we made it, right?"

I needed something with meaning to latch onto. Anything.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr, chest still heaving from his furious explosion, bit down on his lower lip and looked away, blinking a few hot tears out of his face. He'd do Sanis the decent thing and not let him see that much.

"Stjill fuckjing kjicking."

It was absurd, wasn't it? Cirr smiled, delaying the pipe bomb inside of him from going off.

"Thought we werre toast afterr the hyperr went out."

[Sanis Prent]

"Gotta hand it to Morgan. Never wanted to be a captain going down with his ship. Too fucking cliche."

The same smile that didn't belong, and I just shook my head.

"Fuck all that, right? I'm gonna live forever."

Standing up took a little effort, as the sheer weight of loss I didn't want to confront seemed to rob me of strength. Cirr met me halfway, big hand clasping over mine to hoist me up. For a second I thought he would wrap me in a bear hug, and the look I gave him told him it would be wrong for more reasons to count, and that I couldn't take it.

"I need a drink. Think the barkeep will comp us a few bottles on account of our ship getting wrecked?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Anybody who's got a prroblem wjith that jis gonna get put on the deck."

Cirr replied, a bit darkly, to Sanis's suggestion. He needed this. They both did. If you couldn't say what you felt, why not just drink until you didn't feel like saying it?

Clapping a heavy hand across his Captain's shoulder, he eased Sanis along.

"We'll tell 'em we left ourr crredjits on the shjip orr somethjing."

A pair of jubilant Jedi could be seen hanging around the edge of the hangar, understandably excited about the news of the coup they'd pulled off under the Empire's nose. Cirr grimaced and looked away, hoping the celebration didn't try to spread in their direction.

[Sanis Prent]

Our self destruction assured, I followed my only friend to the ship's mess. Long before we reached the double doors leading in, we could hear more jubilant sounds of celebrating Jedi and Rebels. I kept my head down to try to brush past it, but the sound of "Captain Prent!" from somewhere in the mob doomed that idea. A drink was pushed into my hand, and I had to acknowledge it, raising a pint to the crewer who'd covered a beer for me on their tab.

I didn't even know their name, and I didn't want to. Still, I put on the best smile I could stand and tossed a mock salute, and leveled the pint to the dregs in seconds.

The last thing I could afford to do was to appear any less in the moment, and it was fucking killing me.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr used Sanis as a distraction and barged his way to the bar, setting a chit down on the counter.

"Whjisky."

The barkeep smiled and slid the chit back to Cirr.

"This one's on me, Lieutenant."

Grimacing, Cirr averted his eyes momentarily, and looked back to the barkeep.

"jIt's Cirr, and please jI want to pay forr thjis one, at least."

The barkeep didn't take it the wrong way, and in a job where being empathetic was a requirement, maybe he saw there was something more pressing on the felinoid's mind than getting his nourishment on, so to speak. With a knowing smile and a nod, he slid the chit back over to himself.

"Start a tab?"

The chit was replaced with a bottle and a shot glass. Cirr took the glass up, turning it over between his thumb and forefinger. He nodded.

[Carré Inirial]

She avoided the main entrance and the voices she could hear raised in raucous celebration inside. Not that it wasn't a victory to be savored, the woman mused as she walked, but what Sanis and Cirr had sacrificed to see it a success was something she wagered wasn't being thought of just at that moment.

Mara thought the same as she did, Carré knew, from having talked to her friend a very short time ago. She was quietly avoiding the raucous party by throwing herself back into her duties at full tilt.

Carré stepped into the mess through a side entrance, bypassing the mass of celebratory people and heading straight for the bar. Fingers smoothed out her t-shirt (http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=30513239) and settled her ID tags against her chest, the thud of her boots lost in the noise from across the mess. She hopped up on the barstool beside Cirr and arched a brow at the bartender.

"The Major joining you?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Alright then...the Gold it is." he replied with a nod and tucked her chit away behind the bar. A moment later, a glass and a bottle of Merenzane Gold sat on the counter before her. He poured her the first measure which she sipped from before glancing up at the felinoid.

"Cirr." she said softly, nodding a greeting to him.

[Tera Uolmi]

Tera skirted the edge of the crowd that had gathered to celebrate the success of the mission to Coruscant, her expression reflecting none of the jubilant relief that was plain in so many of the faces around her. She scanned the room, rising briefly onto her toes to see through the throng of bodies, until she found the person she was looking for. She kept her head down as she pushed her way towards him.

“Prent,” she gave him a nod, satisfied to see that he was in one piece. “I heard what happened... I'm sorry.”

[Sanis Prent]

"Yeah..."

My eyes diverted from Tera to my glass of beer, where the dregs had collected. In reality, I just didn't want to get hit right between the eyes with the truth that I was trying to avoid for a while. Swirling the mug about, I tilted back the last bit of backwash before stepping to the bar to deposit it on the table. A second mug had appeared, and it was apparently going to be one of those events where it just kept flowing. Fine by me.

"...it's just a ship. Guess in the grand scheme of things, we could've done a helluva lot worse, huh?"

I slipped into a familiar con, and put on a smirk and a bit of false bravado.

"I was gonna probably up and sell it within a year anyway." I lied.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr had already dispatched a shot, and eased the glass back down to the counter as he swallowed. His baby blues turned to the female pilot next to him, and he nodded.

"Carrré."

Quick to cut off any hurtful conversation at the pass, he pushed through a more conventional topic.

"How's thjings back at home base? We djidn't mjiss any good hjit and rrun mjissjions djid we?"

[Carré Inirial]

Carré snorted and downed the rest of her glass without savoring it. She poured a second before she answered.

"Nope, nothing. There hasn't been anything but patrols to fly lately. Unless of course, you like flying in circles around the Wheel."

She savored a sip this time, noting how neatly Cirr had come up with a topic that didn't involve the mission they'd just returned from. Until he brought it up, then, she wouldn't mention a word of it.

"Next week though, if you're free, some of us got leave time and we're going surface side. Hit a cantina, drink, cause a ruckus...you'd be welcome to join us if you'd like. Lyanie, too...I'd have invited her by now, but I haven't been over to see her in a couple of weeks."

[Ben Merasska]

"No!" Ben gasped, having weaseled his way through the euphoric mix of pilots, Jedi, and Alliance personnel. His face was red, and he puffed a bit in front of Sanis and Tera; he vaguely remembered her from the Life Day party. Ben normally wouldn't have risked his nerves in such a large crowd of insane asylum escapees, but the news he'd heard...

"I... uh..." now that he stood in front of Prent, however, Ben was slightly speechless. The man had more steel in his spine than Ben had of a spine at all. Without a ship, without that miniscule possibility of freedom from everything, Ben would likely have been balled into a corner weeping hysterically. He dug his hands into his pockets, and brightened up considerably. He held his hand out, and proffered what he'd found to the other man.

"It's a good luck charm," Ben explained, feeling self conscious. In his hand lay a small model of a Nubian H-Type yacht (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/H-type_Nubian_yacht). Though small, it was obviously hand assembled, and half painted a dark blue. "I almost flew one of those. One of the fastest ships you can get pre-modification. I know you'd probably like a drink better, but the Cap'n's bein' pretty tight about all the whiskey we have left. He seems to think it makes better engine cleaner."

Ben shrugged halfheartedly. He realized that he didn't know Prent all that well (he knew Cirr a bit better, due to making the mistake of drinking with him), and just giving him something was weird. It was too late to take it back now anyway, and truthfully, Ben thought the brash smuggler needed it more than he did anyhow.

[Tera Uolmi]

It's just a ship – and we're just pilots, Tera thought, though she said nothing. If she was thinking it, Sanis was too. Without their ships, the Rogues were nothing. When they weren't flying them, they were going over flight-patterns. When they weren't talking tactics, they were under the hull, talking smack to whichever knuckledragger thought they had the finesse necessary for their bird. Sure, it was just ship – but it had been his.

It was about that time Ben appeared. His heart was in the right place, but she couldn't help but grimace a little at the good-luck charm.

[Sanis Prent]

I turned the model over in my hand, still warm from the residual heat it picked up in Ben's grasp. Though not my style, Nubians were unparallelled things of beauty, and he certainly had the speed part right. For a moment, my mind wandered, imagining myself shrunk small enough to fit inside, or the model large enough for me to climb into. If I let myself, I could almost let the din of the crowd in the mess hall start to sound like the dull roar of engines coming to life.

It was very bittersweet, and I clasped my hand over the model fully, taking it from my sight. Ben never struck me as the hottest blaster in the holster, and I wouldn't take this any other way than a genuine token of good will, so I worked out a tight lipped "Thanks" through the best smile I had.

"I appreciate it, Ben. Figure I might need to tank up on good luck after walking away from all this, eh?"

One glance at Tera told me that she wasn't buying my bullshit, but she was at least decent enough not to call me on it.

"Look, uh, I'm taking all the good graces I've got and cashing 'em in at the bar, so if you're looking for some easy drinks I could use a few wingmen."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr gave a bit of a surprised look at Carré's mention of shore leave. With their ever-changeable nature in the convoy, calling their shots was a luxury they almost never were afforded.

"Wow, thjings must rreally be sweet jif we'rre puttjing jin leave jin advance."

The mention of Lyanie cooled the sting of his loss a bit, and as he tilted down another whisky, he cut an unguarded smile.

"Barrrjing a surrprrjise attack, jI'm therre."

His eyes slipped from Carré back to the bar.

"jI need to let off some steam anyway. Thjis warr's starrtjing to turrn me jinto somebody jI don't ljike."

[Carré Inirial]

"I know...it really is mind-boggling. But there's only a handful of us that can pull it off. Mara used her rank and got herself and her team thirty-six hours, but I've only got twenty-four. Getting people together was really her idea...I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. We may have to pull her feline ass out of trouble at some point."

Carré grinned and gently shook her head with mock concern. The Gold was going down rather easily, she noted distantly, delicately finishing her second glass in almost as many minutes. She raised herself up and leaned over the bar to pluck a cold cube and drop it into her glass, preferring it to ice since it wouldn't melt or otherwise affect the taste.

"jI need to let off some steam anyway. Thjis warr's starrtjing to turrn me jinto somebody jI don't ljike."

"I know the feeling well. Flying for the Empire did that to me, though I thought I was doing it for the right reasons. Even after Alderaan..." Carré replied quietly, before catching herself and lightly pinching the bridge of her nose. "...and that's a topic for another time.."

[Ben Merasska]

"Figure I might need to tank up on good luck after walking away from all this, eh?"

"No," Ben answered, a slight hint of incredulity in his tone. Good luck wasn't something a person, especially a pilot, held in reserve and stored up for future. You had it, or you didn't, and luck was notoriously fickle. Losing your ship didn't seem like particularly good luck to Ben, and he was pretty sure that sentiment showed. "It's for finding another ship that can hold up. You need to find one, or at least start looking, soon or you'll start to grow roots."

Ben didn't feel the need to explain further, just slightly wincing at the thought of 'growing roots'. It had happened before, and pulling himself out of that had been painful. The Knightfall hadn't made many runs lately, but he'd still spent barely enough time away from the convoy to feel like he wasn't particularly settling into it.

Sanis said something about wingmen and drinking and Ben absently nodded, still slightly guilty that he had a ship to run away on and Sanis was practically confined to the convoy.