Welcome to the Middle of Nowhere

Layla came out of hyperspace. Morgan knew they were somewhere just beyond the Mid-Rim, but more than 30k light years from the Hydian Way, and nowhere near a charted star system. He didn't need anyone to tell him that.

"If you don't want someone to accidentally land on you, this isn't a bad spot." He said with approval. Morgan squinted into the distance. He noted what looked like a smaller MC80, an Action VI, and something else nearby.

"I forgot how ugly Actions are." Morgan said, and then headed to the cargo deck.

"They really are." Sanis agreed.

Layla docked with the ugly Action VI, called the Whaladon. Morgan pulled for a familiar face to show, maybe Navaria or Daria. Maybe even Mom.

"Sanis Prent," Loki began coolly the moment the airlock doors parted, "This is not a stopping station. The Knightfall is scheduled to dock in three minutes while the Layla clings to this ship like a malignant tumor."

Heavy footsteps clanged against the gangway, prompting Loki to look up from his datapad. He didn't appreciate having to crane his neck so much to accomodate the stranger's towering height. He frowned.

"Not another one of Prent's vagrants, I hope."

"Layla ID confirmed. Wait, he's on approach with Whaledon. What is he...? Should we tell anybody? Isn't Knightfall...?"

"Since when has Prent cared?"

The com chief shrugged to his tech. "Or listened. Well, tell Henning. He might not see this from his vector."

Drin Kizael turned from his conversation with the Captain across the bridge. He looked out the viewport with a curious expression, drawn more by the odd rise in anxiety by the Alliance crew of the Wheel's flagship than by the return of one of Rogue Squadron's pilots from wherever it is he had flown off to.

The Jedi's eyes narrowed the moment his focus narrowed on the freighter, though. "You say he's on approach? But not with the Valiant."

Again the com chief shrugged. Kizael walked forward, tightening his senses on the YV-666. Suddenly his eyes widened.

"What?" he whispered. "How?"

"What?" the com chief repeated, equally confused.

"This galaxy is getting smaller every day," the trianii mused. "Chief, I need a shuttle back to the Whaledon." And with that he marched off to greet the new arrivals.

Morgan was taken aback. Sure, Sanis Prent didn't have the best reputation, but he did travel with another Jedi fairly often, and Cirr was a giant teddy bear as far as disposition went.

"Are you this rude to everyone who comes here?" His inner Nar Shadda street punk was tempted to dump his fifty kilo duffel into the kid's face.

s'Il stepped from behind Morgan, his larger bulk obscuring her figure. A pat to his arm, and she moved to stand before Loki with patience in her broken gaze, her hands folding together before her.

"Abarai."

Her tone was soft, soothing even.

"This will not take long. I promise."

"I am not the welcoming commitee."

He kept his eyes fixed on the new arrival, curious for any further sign of offense that he may have inadvertently caused. It was the first time he'd ever been called rude so he didn't put much stock in the stranger's opinion. The datapad fell to his side so he could make a full assessment of him.

"Who-" his inquisitive tone suddenly switched to one of greeting, "Loklorian s'Ilancy."

I stepped out of the airlock, my palms partially up with a sheepish grin on my face.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Breach of landing protocol and all that, go ahead and throw the book at me, Loki."

With a shit-eating grin, I leaned against the bulkhead and jerked a thumb at Morgan.

"But, I find Jedi in this galaxy like most folks find spare credits between couch cushions. One day, I'll get a medal for that."

Cirr ducked his head through the airlock, catching Sanis's attention.

"Hey Cap, jI'm headed to Valjiant forr a shoppjing rrun. Usual sorrt of thjing, you know. Need anythjing frrom the Masterr Chjief?"

He caught sight of Loki, and gave a little wave.

Morgan folded his long arms over his chest to keep from laughing. Sanis had a reputation regarding rules and regulations: he only followed them when it suited him. He regarded Loki with a raised eyebrow.

"s'Ilancy said I would be able to find other Jedi here. I think we got off to a bad start. I'm Morgan Evanar." He offered Abarai an oversized hand.

"You're a Jedi?"

It was starting to make sense now. He grimmaced slightly in taking Morgan's hand, allowing him to do the shaking, and was quick to break it. The handshake was an invaisive custom with needless intimacy, towards which Loki feared he'd never grow accustomed. A neat bow was much more dignified. His gaze broke when he noticed Cirrsseeto loitering in the airlock behind the group, he offered a nod of acknowledgement, pleased to see him well.

"Morgan Evanar," he recalled, returning his attention to the looming Jedi, whose height appeared magnified in their renewed proximity, "Welcome aboard. You may find it somewhat... cramped."

While many may have considered Abarai's disposition to be curt and downright unpleasant at times, s'Il had found his behavior and mannerisms completely endearing. It struck a peculiar chord in her, and more often than not reminded her of herself during her years growing up in the Temple.

"It is a much better alternative to Nar Shaddaa," she murmured, stepping fully off the boarding ramp and moving to stand beside the far younger, stern-faced Jedi. Idly she hoped that the datapad he held would not be given to her - she had enough of them waiting for her in her office aboard the Valiant.

"Every time I go through Nar Shadda I always say I'm never going back unless I absolutely have to." He agreed with s'Il. "Anyway, are Jedis Tarkin or Nytherciria about?"

"Master Navaria Tarkin and Daria Nytherciria are both onboard," he confirmed.

"There is a saying," he continued blandly, returning his attention to the datapad, "The Death Star missed Nar Shaddaa. Sanis Prent, you have ninety seconds."

"Heh, relax, I'm already outta here."

I backed out the way I came in, giving s'Il and Morg a wink before I punched the airlock door shut, and headed back to the ship.

A technician that had served with Jedi since Vortex contacted Jedi Tarkin immediately when learning who Prent had on board.

She picked it up curiously and thumb the activation switch. "This is Tarkin. Go ahead."

I'm sorry to disturb you Master Jedi, but I know you'd wanna know that Evanar is back! It was difficult to contain his enthusiasm.

This was wonderful news to be heard. It had been far too long on the run since Vortex and many of the Jedi had to go their separate ways. "Has anyone else come with him?"

She was curious if Rhianna or even Adia were present.

No Ma'am. Just Morgan. Still good right?

"It's very good. Thank you for letting me know. Is he still in the docking bay?"

Yep. He sure is.

"Excellent. We'll be there shortly."

She turned off the hand held device and looked towards her companion with a smile. "Unless you didn't want to greet Morgan," Navaria teased, seeing as she was currently alone with the Miraluka Knight, which was a rarity.

“Is that mischief I hear?”

Daria wriggled her way out of the bunk she had been sharing with Navaria Tarkin. With a coy smile over her shoulder, she slipped into a tanktop and a pair of re-purposed military surplus pants, which were fast become a standard for the Jedi who found themselves as long-time residents aboard the Wheel. The Jedi Knight hooked her lightsaber onto one of the belt loops and the pair set off at a brisk pace towards the hangar.

Morgan was waiting with Abarai and Loklorien, who looked about as tall as a pair of Jawa's alongside the lanky slicer.

The arrival of Navaria Tarkin and Daria Nytherciria was enough to distract the Lupine from whatever Abarai's datapad contained, and turning to look at the two women, s'Il gave a respectful nod.

But, her thoughts were also on what Abarai had spoken to Sanis, and with an odd look on her face, she looked at the boy.

"I've never heard such a saying." Her head tilted to the side in curiosity, and her next words made evident her feeble grasp on humor of most any form.

"Abarai, is what you say true?"

Morgan started laughing.

"Oh man." He managed between fits. "That's the blackest joke I've ever head a Jedi tell." He straightened up, and disappeared. He appeared right behind Navaria and Daria. His duffel hit the floor with a thud. He wrapped his arms around the pair of Jedi.

"I've missed you two stuffed shirts so much!"

Morgan's sudden outburst had Loki frozen, mouth agape, as he'd attempted to address Loklorien's question. Bewildered, he turned wide-eyes on him instead, and watched his laughter with no small degree of disbelief. Then he disappeared. Simply vanished. His voice came now from behind Master Tarkin and Daria Nytherciria, and true enough, there he stood. His face now positively riddled with confusion, Loki traced back to the spot Morgan once occupied. He stared at that empty bit of floor for a the briefest moment, then lifted his gaze, his expression suddenly blank. He pitched a sideways glance towards Loklorien and asked, irritably, a question loaded with meaning:

"What just happened?"

"He has been given a rare ability to teleport," Navaria reassured and looked up at Morgan with a smile that did its best to show how much he was missed. "How he is able to do so is still a mystery."

Suddenly engulfed in a pair of impossibly long arms, Daria managed to conceal her surprise well. Although she was aware of Morgan Evanar's unique talent, she had not yet gotten used to the practical implications that came with it. She turned her face up towards his and smiled, a rare cheek-dimpling smile.

“Hello, Morgan. I was wondering when we would see you again.”

Just as taken aback as Abarai, s'Il stood blinking, her expression utterly blank as she stared first at where Morgan had been, and second to where he was now.

Master Tarkin's explanation was taken in with interest and not a little bit of sheer fascination at the ability that Morgan possessed, and slowly her features melted into amusement as she looked back to Abarai. It was such an intriguing concept, the power to instantaneously move oneself to another location.

"Fascinating," she finally murmured, eye tracking back to Morgan.

The doors leading into the ship opened and Drin Kizael stepped into the room. Hazel eyes swept across the gathering to Jedi, landing finally and narrowing quizzically on Morgan Evanar. The trainii just stood there for a moment, just processing the fact that he was really seeing him.

He had met the slicer around a year ago, when CSA Espos tossed the human into his prison cell on Mytus VII. Morgan turned out to be the focal point of a conspiracy led by the prison's warden and at least one powerful corporation with ties to the Hutts. Barely weeks after his arrival, two Rebel intelligence agents showed up at the prison, ironically in search of neither Drin or Evenar, but of another Jedi entirely who had passed through the facility on his way to Imperial custody.

Kizael took advantage of the situation to help get Morgan free. The incident landed him in solitary for several months to follow, but it was the debriefing of Morgan by the Rebels that ultimately led Navaria Tarkin to him.

The mind boggling chain of events could only be attributed to the Force at work. And yet the Jedi was no less surprised to see the gangly slicer standing in front of him.

"Morgan Evanar," Kizael said with a chuckle, letting the name hang in the air as its own statement.

He gave the pair of Jedi women a gentle squeeze and a big smile before he let go.

"Drin?" Morgan nearly reeled from the concept of the Trianii being present, in the flesh. He looked the big striped felinoid over, noting the lightsaber, and the set of his robes.

"You being a Jedi only makes this 10% less absurd. And I assure you, this is completely absurd." He stood before Drin for a moment and smiled stupidly.

"Thank you for getting me out of Star's End. I'm glad you managed to get out too."

Kizael's smile broadened as he marched up to Morgan and shook his hand with a solid grip. "You played a part in my own escape. Without you, Lia--" The trianii winced and glanced over apologetically. "Navaria would likely have never found me."

Kizael looked past Morgan at Loklorien, nodding in acknowledgment. Something about her sparked a sense of recognition that he could not place. It was a feeling he was getting used to since his arrival.

He focused back on Morgan. "What brings you to us? I assumed your rescuers would give you the Alliance recruitment pitch, but I didn't think it would actually work."

"Well, the Jedi had a much better recruitment pitch than the Rebellion. And Serena Laran's problems were much more interesting." Morgan explained.

"I know she's not here, but does anyone know where Serena is? I haven't seen her since Rhianna and I had to run off Cloud City."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, Daria exhaled.

“We are.. in the process of attempting to locate Serena, at this time – and what of Rhianna?”

"Rhianna's on her homeworld. She had visions." Morgan closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. The young woman walked a strange line between tribal mystic and Jedi. She tried to show Morgan, but his mind couldn't make sense of the series of jumbled images beyond a sense of lingering dread. He didn't have the context.

"She'll come back when she can. She's got a small shuttle and a button to wipe the hyperdrive core after she gets back to known space."

"I'm relieved to hear that she's safe and has a way to reach us." This was wonderful news. Morgan and Rhianna alive and well. The Force had been kind.

"Was there anything to her visions that may be of use to us? Sometimes even the littlest detail may not seem valuable or even relate to anything overt."

"No." Morgan answered. His voice wasn't certain. "Not now, anyway. She told me things will make sense when they need to. I've never been very good at that sort of thing. Too grounded in the now."

"Ah."

Daria felt no further observation on Rhianna forthcoming. It was reassuring to hear that she was alive and well, but ultimately the will of the Force would govern all of their paths, even if they did not understand at the present time where said paths were leading them.

"Shall we find you somewhere to stay? In spite of appearances to the contrary, the fleet is a little more comfortable than the Vortex installation."

"A good idea. We could show you around along the way and catch up," she offered a light smile. Morgan had been missed and it would then well to reconnect and help acclimate him to the convoy.

"A tour? Well I'll be." He said. Morgan dashed back around the corner, grabbed his bag-o-stuff and returned.

"Please, lead the way." Morgan had dozens of questions, but he knew some would be answered in the tour. He didn't want it to turn into a mutual interrogation. Pleasant catch-up would be better for now. Besides, he was somewhere other than stinky miserable Nar-Shadda, and that was fine with him.