Oran Jsorra
Jan 24th, 2016, 04:28:04 PM
The air intakes on the speeder's engines hummed their way down in a gradual diminuendo as it settled itself down on the scuffed and pockmarked duracrete floor of Outpost Bravo, one of the Resistance's outlying staging posts. It was one of the many lessons and tactics culled from the Rebellion-that-was: safehouses and supply drops scattered across Corellia, resources and personnel never gathered in one place, cells and security divisions preventing any single effort by the Imperials from toppling the whole movement. The Alliance, in it's infinite, cowardly, war-abandoning wisdom, had decided that they needed a consultant to teach them how to wage a guerilla war correctly. As if the veterans gathered here needed pointers in staging the kind of conflict that they had lived and breathed for years. Oran scoffed at the notion. Bureaucrats. Meddling as always.
Their new Alliance expert had arrived ahead of them, escorted to the Outpost by Sphyrna Mokarran. Oran wasn't sure which of the two he envied less: he, trapped in a speeder with Miss DeKnow-it-All; or she trapped in the same with the sniper carrying the guilt of a few thousand deaths on his misshapen Ithorian shoulders. No doubt she was making herself at home, somewhere, having spent about five seconds to catch her breath before launching into a tirade about how everything that had been working perfectly well for all this time was somehow drastically wrong. Oran kept his bitter sentiments to himself, though; when it came to putting the Lieutenant in her place, Colonel Mandrill seemed to have things thoroughly covered.
The Colonel wasn't here of course, off to spend time with their delightfully amoral Black Sun allies. Everything about this situation had done it's utmost to etch a perpetual scowl onto Oran's usually bright-eyed and jovial features. Fortunately for him, the Force was working very hard on reversing that situation.
It wasn't a smile that graced his features as his attention turned back to the cargo skiff, but the distinct absence of frowning was about the closest his face had got in a long time. Part of it was due to the wonderfully attractive young demolitions specialist that the Alliance had decided to - hopefully - deposit in his lap. The rest was due to the wonderfully attractive containers of high-yield explosive that she had brought with her. Honestly, Oran wasn't sure which of the two was more responsible for the tingling sensations in his nether regions. Aside from her frankly stunning appearance, there was a keen edge to her gaze, and an adaptability in her nature that piqued his interest, and something lurking on the edges of his subconscious instincts that upgraded it to intrigue. The prospect of spending quality time calibrating explosive fuses and distribution matrices with her was the most inviting opportunity that had crossed his path in weeks.
Of course, there were hurdles to overcome before such things could happen. His frown threatened to return as he considered one in particular. Before he would have the opportunity to show off the cobbled-together contents of his lab to Miss Secha - the obviously fake name that Screaming Eagle had provided them with - she would need to be cleared through security; and security meant one frustratingly elusive woman in particular.
"I know you're in here, Asha," he called, with the kind of tired drag to his words of a man who had played this game far too many times before. "Stop pretending to be one of the landing techs, and come out to say hello."
Their new Alliance expert had arrived ahead of them, escorted to the Outpost by Sphyrna Mokarran. Oran wasn't sure which of the two he envied less: he, trapped in a speeder with Miss DeKnow-it-All; or she trapped in the same with the sniper carrying the guilt of a few thousand deaths on his misshapen Ithorian shoulders. No doubt she was making herself at home, somewhere, having spent about five seconds to catch her breath before launching into a tirade about how everything that had been working perfectly well for all this time was somehow drastically wrong. Oran kept his bitter sentiments to himself, though; when it came to putting the Lieutenant in her place, Colonel Mandrill seemed to have things thoroughly covered.
The Colonel wasn't here of course, off to spend time with their delightfully amoral Black Sun allies. Everything about this situation had done it's utmost to etch a perpetual scowl onto Oran's usually bright-eyed and jovial features. Fortunately for him, the Force was working very hard on reversing that situation.
It wasn't a smile that graced his features as his attention turned back to the cargo skiff, but the distinct absence of frowning was about the closest his face had got in a long time. Part of it was due to the wonderfully attractive young demolitions specialist that the Alliance had decided to - hopefully - deposit in his lap. The rest was due to the wonderfully attractive containers of high-yield explosive that she had brought with her. Honestly, Oran wasn't sure which of the two was more responsible for the tingling sensations in his nether regions. Aside from her frankly stunning appearance, there was a keen edge to her gaze, and an adaptability in her nature that piqued his interest, and something lurking on the edges of his subconscious instincts that upgraded it to intrigue. The prospect of spending quality time calibrating explosive fuses and distribution matrices with her was the most inviting opportunity that had crossed his path in weeks.
Of course, there were hurdles to overcome before such things could happen. His frown threatened to return as he considered one in particular. Before he would have the opportunity to show off the cobbled-together contents of his lab to Miss Secha - the obviously fake name that Screaming Eagle had provided them with - she would need to be cleared through security; and security meant one frustratingly elusive woman in particular.
"I know you're in here, Asha," he called, with the kind of tired drag to his words of a man who had played this game far too many times before. "Stop pretending to be one of the landing techs, and come out to say hello."