Bryna Belargic
Mar 31st, 2013, 06:23:02 AM
In times gone by, there had been a section of the Jedi Order known as the Service Corps. Made up of those Jedi initiates who failed to make it into the Order proper, the Service Corps provided a positive, constructive outlet for their connection to the Force.
Some became battlefield medics and triage surgeons. Some spent their lives as scholars, maintaining the vast wealth of knowledge in the Jedi Archives and aiding hapless young padawan's in their search for knowledge. The lucky few joined the Exploration Corps and travelled the Galaxy, uncovering lost civilisations and delving deep into the mysteries of time.
Last and to some most definitely least here was the Agricultural Corps, or AgriCorps. The role of the AgriCorps was simple: cultivate crops. For many young Jedi hopefuls, an assignment with the AgriCorps was tantamount to punishment.
Perhaps that was why Bryna Belargic felt her heart sink as she approached squat, box building in front of her. She knew that someone had to help out with the cultivation of crops; she only wished that someone wasn't her. It didn't help that working in the 'grow lab'' meant spending time with a man who could stretch even Master Tarkin's patience.
Arlan Solborne: botanist and professional pain in the arse. The only time that Bryna ever saw him outside of the grow lab was when he slipped out back for a cigarra. For all Bryna knew, he slept in the lab. Certainly, his grubby lab coat and permanently disheveled hair gave the impression that he wasn't getting 'watered' nearly as often as his plants were.
“Can't you just...?” Arlan began, as he spied Bryna skulking into the grow lab.
Barely in the door and it was starting already. “Just?”
The old man waggled his fingers at her and Bryna lifted an eyebrow. The soil on Ossus wouldn't sustain plant life – at least not in the quantities that the community would need to become self-sufficient – so for the time being, a hydroponic solution was in order. A team of botanists had been sent to Ossus to oversee the installation of the equipment, but their team was small. Volunteers had been called on to monitor the plants and the equipment, volunteers such as the Jedi who didn't have any other practical skills to offer to the community.
“The Force! Use the Force to.. to..” Solborne blurted then gestured into the air, casting about for the right idea and the right words. “Make them grow faster.”
Bryna crouched down beside one of the smaller grow tanks and squinted at the readout screen, a view she much preferred to the sight of Solborne's scrunched up face, his bushy eyebrows knotted together into something resembling a hairy caterpillar. “If we could do that, don't you think we'd have done it already?”
On the other side of the cabinet, Arlan Solborne laughed a wheezing laugh. “Who knows! You can float all sorts with your mind but I didn't see you doing the heavy-lifting when we unloaded the Whaladon.”
Bryna head popped up from behind the grow tank; now it was her turn to frown. “The Force isn't... bacta. You can't just slap it on every problem and expect it to be fixed.”
Arms folded across his chest, Solborne shook his head and smiled. “Well, I know one thing for sure. We've got a damn sight more of the Force here than we have bacta, so a little more liberal application wouldn't exactly go amiss.”
Back on her feet, Bryna crossed her arms over her chest too. “You know, you're kind of ignorant for a scientist.”
“And you're hot-headed for being a Jedi, so I guess neither of us is perfect. Now get back to checking those tanks.”
“Uh huh,” Bryna paced away, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The sooner she finished checking on the tanks, the sooner she could be on her way.
Some became battlefield medics and triage surgeons. Some spent their lives as scholars, maintaining the vast wealth of knowledge in the Jedi Archives and aiding hapless young padawan's in their search for knowledge. The lucky few joined the Exploration Corps and travelled the Galaxy, uncovering lost civilisations and delving deep into the mysteries of time.
Last and to some most definitely least here was the Agricultural Corps, or AgriCorps. The role of the AgriCorps was simple: cultivate crops. For many young Jedi hopefuls, an assignment with the AgriCorps was tantamount to punishment.
Perhaps that was why Bryna Belargic felt her heart sink as she approached squat, box building in front of her. She knew that someone had to help out with the cultivation of crops; she only wished that someone wasn't her. It didn't help that working in the 'grow lab'' meant spending time with a man who could stretch even Master Tarkin's patience.
Arlan Solborne: botanist and professional pain in the arse. The only time that Bryna ever saw him outside of the grow lab was when he slipped out back for a cigarra. For all Bryna knew, he slept in the lab. Certainly, his grubby lab coat and permanently disheveled hair gave the impression that he wasn't getting 'watered' nearly as often as his plants were.
“Can't you just...?” Arlan began, as he spied Bryna skulking into the grow lab.
Barely in the door and it was starting already. “Just?”
The old man waggled his fingers at her and Bryna lifted an eyebrow. The soil on Ossus wouldn't sustain plant life – at least not in the quantities that the community would need to become self-sufficient – so for the time being, a hydroponic solution was in order. A team of botanists had been sent to Ossus to oversee the installation of the equipment, but their team was small. Volunteers had been called on to monitor the plants and the equipment, volunteers such as the Jedi who didn't have any other practical skills to offer to the community.
“The Force! Use the Force to.. to..” Solborne blurted then gestured into the air, casting about for the right idea and the right words. “Make them grow faster.”
Bryna crouched down beside one of the smaller grow tanks and squinted at the readout screen, a view she much preferred to the sight of Solborne's scrunched up face, his bushy eyebrows knotted together into something resembling a hairy caterpillar. “If we could do that, don't you think we'd have done it already?”
On the other side of the cabinet, Arlan Solborne laughed a wheezing laugh. “Who knows! You can float all sorts with your mind but I didn't see you doing the heavy-lifting when we unloaded the Whaladon.”
Bryna head popped up from behind the grow tank; now it was her turn to frown. “The Force isn't... bacta. You can't just slap it on every problem and expect it to be fixed.”
Arms folded across his chest, Solborne shook his head and smiled. “Well, I know one thing for sure. We've got a damn sight more of the Force here than we have bacta, so a little more liberal application wouldn't exactly go amiss.”
Back on her feet, Bryna crossed her arms over her chest too. “You know, you're kind of ignorant for a scientist.”
“And you're hot-headed for being a Jedi, so I guess neither of us is perfect. Now get back to checking those tanks.”
“Uh huh,” Bryna paced away, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The sooner she finished checking on the tanks, the sooner she could be on her way.