-
Mise En Place
The few days without Captain s'Ilancy had been spent in routine, but it was a pre-planned routine. It was how things usually went when she was called away for short periods of time, ensconced in whatever meetings she was required to attend on whatever planet was deemed the place to be for the day. It was during those times that Samus Dage more or less allowed the ship to operate on autopilot. Oh, he directed things, but there was not much to direct when it came to simple stopovers. They would mostly return to the line once the captain returned. Trips to Jovan, sojourns to the border worlds to assuage any fears, resupply, deliver sundries. It was mostly a level set of duties and tasks, and it provided a bit of strange peace. Far removed from the old days, Samus was beginning to rather enjoy himself in these newer times.
They had picked up the captain and the Jedi, Zem Vymes, from Carshoulis a few hours previous, lingering in the Cluster only long enough to send grateful comms and a few official words with the Pride galleon Kaurra'Iro'Iro that had escorted them in, then out once more. It had been a relatively easy encounter, though fraught with thin-lipped smiles in the way that Dage had come to know quite well during his time with T'yeellaa. He'd become adept enough at reading the ear cues no matter the subtlety, and while some he could suss out in timely enough fashion, there were certainly still particular ticks that he'd yet to translate and memorize.
But, everything had been smooth enough, and two hours into hyperspace found Samus happily back in his normal role. Let the Captain have that seat on her precious bridge.
What he wasn't happy with, however, was the sight of a steaming, shriveled pile of overheated rations that a serving droid had brusquely dropped on his tray. The thin black plastic of the 'plate', formed into one main entree area and two smaller side-dish sections held food that he wasn't exactly sure was edible. Today's meal? Nuna A La Emperor with Rodian tuber fries (limp and moist with steam), and some mixed vegetable slurry. He wished he was back at the Diktat's Roost in that moment, distracted only by the droid asking if he wanted a drink.
A nod, and a liquid-filled pouch was set on his tray with as much grace as his food had been. He sighed, shoulders slumping, and turned from the ordering area to begin the search for a table.
This time of the afternoon it was largely empty, save for a few of the squadron pilots tucked into a corner table.
And, surprisingly, one other person.
Samus let his tray smack down on the table inhabited by the lone occupant, swiftly following suit and flopping his lanky frame into a chair.
"The trick is to imagine it's your favorite food. Don't think about what it really is, cause that'll only guarantee you end up starving to death."
-
The creative grousing elicited a half-upturned grin from the Jedi Master, who was already well on his way to getting his bearings on the food in front of him.
"Oh it's not so bad," Zem consoled, turning over the over-cooked puree of vegetables with his spork. "In my experience, as long as you make the best of what you have, every meal can be a banquet."
The rest of that saying went unsaid. He'd had a lifetime of bad meals. Regrettable choices of poor quality and negligible portion, begged borrowed or stolen in the name of filling the tank for another day on the run. The bad made you appreciate the good, and in return, you managed to smile even when the portions were lean.
Clearly, Commander Dage longed for a lifestyle to which he was accustomed. Not a Jedi frame of mind, but one that Zem could at least understand.
"Besides, I wouldn't want to hurt the cook's feelings."
-
"Then you're the only one on this ship that has an inkling of thoughtfulness for that bucket of rusted servos over there," a jerked thumb to the serving droid still behind the food counter.
His thumb folded down as his index finger snapped out to point at the pilots huddled together a short ways off.
"Them? I can almost promise you they're plotting that poor thing's demise."
His words were punctuated with a smile that was a bizarre mix of joke and seriousness. It wasn't lost on him though, the fact that the Jedi Master had a certain leg up on the food they'd each been given. Unwrapping the thin paper napkin from around his own spork, he speared (actually smushed) a tuber fry. Moisture escaped the punctures in lazy drips. Held aloft in front of his face, his eyes eventually looked past it to Vymes.
"How about you do a poor working guy a favor and wag your fingers to turn this sad bit of food into something with flavor?"
A smirk, followed by a knowing wink, and the blonde popped the limp fry into his mouth.
-
The Jedi Master replied with only a sympathetic smile. Of course, it would do the Commander's mood no favors to say that Zem's previous meal had been the kind of epicurean state of bliss that caused Jedi to warn about forbidden attachments.
"I think you figured out the secret with the first thing you said. Your focus shapes your reality."
Spearing a bite, Zem paused. He didn't exactly frown, but rather changed tact.
"Of course, where the imagination fails, a little sinthan and a little salt do wonders."
He hadn't known Loklorien's executive officer extensively, but Zem's feelings gave him the impression that the dour quality of lunch wasn't entirely what he wanted to talk about.
-
"Possibly, but they can only do so much."
But, the Jedi Master still had a point, and Samus gave a helpless shrug as he scooped up a sporkful of vegetables. He stared at it for a moment before putting it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as his gaze meandered across the mostly empty mess hall; from the pilots, to his food, then finally back up to Vymes. He swallowed, then let his utensil tap idly at the thin nuna cutlet which had so thoughtfully been pre-cut.
"I heard stories about you, you know. Me an' Kori joined up in Dan's old cell a month or so after you vanished. The old girl doesn't know it, but we used to hear her from behind doors. Ain't ever heard a man cursed to so many different hells in my life."
-
It felt strange to discuss that level of intimacy in third person, but it wasn't the sort of thing that Dage could've cooked up in a vacuum.
"I did a few awful things in the name of a good I couldn't quite get my hands around."
Zem fussed with his meal, delaying another underwhelming bite.
"Suppose that makes me no worse than a lot, and also no better."
Talking dogma with those who didn't feel the force around them was always a struggle, and Zem tried to keep the conversation to a lay pedigree.
"She had every right to feel that way."
-
A hrmph, and the blonde broke eye contact to stare down at his food.
"You thought you were doing good. Can't really blame you for that."
Grappling a slice of nuna, Samus shoveled it into his mouth, gave a few quick chews, then sent it down his throat while setting down the spork and taking up the pouch of nutri-water. He pulled the thin straw from its' plastic covering, and poked the angled end forcefully through the small off-color hole.
"But here you are again, back in the game so to speak."
He felt almost like a kid again, sucking up Naboo-Sun through a too-small straw. Except, unlike that heavenly concoction of fruit concentrate and sugar, nutri-water had an almost gritty mouthfeel to it, as though the vitamins and minerals it supposedly held were coarsely ground and simply dumped into whatever vats were used to 'mix' the drink. It was a singular taste, if nothing else.
Even though the man now sitting across from him was a Jedi, he was still a man. And Samus had had plenty of time learning how to read people in his years. Maybe his exposure to T'yeella had helped, in that being with her had taught him to pick up on an entirely new set of ticks, slight hand motions, and a litany of other tells. And something in his new table-mate was projecting outward. Of course, it could also be the strange brotherly affection that Samus had embraced with his old friend despite her peculiarities. Or perhaps it was in spite of it. Either way there was a note of protective rumbling that laced his next words.
"She doesn't really let on how she's feeling most times, but if you know what to look for, it's there. That being said," again he picked up his spork, "... she's not unreadable if you know what you're looking for."
Another piece of nuna was wrangled up, half-speared and half-ground by the short tines. It was lifted up, then used as an impromptu pointing instrument, dead center on the Jedi Master.
"She was dreading the trip to the Cluster. Did her level best to make excuses for not going. Even tried some idiot pass-off by claiming she'd come down with Ithorian Red Fever. But now? Now that she's back, after spending two or so days out there, she steps off Varin's shuttle as though she's on cloud nine. Like she's just been told she can set foot on Ossus again."
The nuna was summarily popped in his mouth then, and between bites, he continued.
"Oh she was quiet and reserved and, well, Lok-ish, but I know what to look for. That old gal was ecstatic."
He swallowed.
"So. Makes me curious about what happened back there."
And in an instant the rangy blonde shifted from a partially joking, jovial manner to something more serious.
"If you get my drift."
-
"It wasn't simply that I thought I was doing good..."
Zem turned the empty fork over on his hand, only passingly interested in the meal.
"...the end result speaks for itself. The Force..."
He paused with a mild grimace. There was no way of talking about this by sanitizing the details.
"...often reveals the destination, but obfuscates the journey. Loklorien and I, we have a lot of shared mileage. Those days you mention, those were hard on the both of us. Harder on her by far, I don't doubt. But good was done in the end. It's not the right question to ask if a man would turn back the clock and change his choices and circumstances. To possess and control history, that's not our way. We're passengers. Just as we're passengers on this ship."
The Jedi Master prolonged the silence with a bite of bland vegetable. Sipping his water, he set it aside, and gathered his thoughts in order.
"As for the turn of mood? Well, that's the next leg of the voyage. Before she was Captain and Commodore, Loklorien was a Jedi Knight the same as I. We shared that common experience so completely, we're just now considering that we're each of us human."
Zem smirked at the not-quite-accurate turn of phrase.
"From a certain point of view, that is."
-
The word choice was not lost on him, and Samus couldn't help but let a out a chuckle.
"Well, that's definitely one way to put it," his knowing grin didn't quite wipe away, even as he downed another few tuber fries. They turned into mush it seemed, on contact with his tongue. But, he chewed gamely and swallowed without too much fuss. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd had to choke down the horrid things. What he wouldn't give to have thick-cut tuber wedges fried in duck fat.
"Had a hell of a basket of tricks too," the mention of Lok's tenure with the Jedi was one that brought back old memories as if they now played out in front of him. But still, there was always the underlying nature of a protective brother for his old friend that ran deep, and Samus let out a long, low sigh. Those rueful flashes shifted as his mind switched back, eyes both focusing on the Jedi sitting across from him. The old guy had a calm nature to him, as though he'd walked the long road and learned more than a few hard lessons along the way. But, they were lessons that had obviously shaped him, and the blonde could respect that.
But still...
"She's the oldest friend I have that's still alive." The note of caution was more than evident in his tone.
"And she'd no doubt deny it, but that heart of hers is still fragile."
He looked down to his food.
"All those things that Dan did, I honestly do think that the worst was bringing her to the moment in time when she ended him. Killing someone you loved as much as she'd loved him... it's the most wrenching thing someone can do to another being."
-
Dage's observation brooked no disagreement from Vymes. The Jedi Master's eyes fixed upon the table.
"I think she'd buried the man, the fiction of the man, well before that moment. As long as Darth Decepis could be Dan, he could alter Lok's reality. None of this is easy to comprehend, not even for myself. We can become enslaved to our better natures. So much of what she did in his name was done with good intention. He stole that compass from her. Hitched it to himself, and told her to follow him.
I've never wavered in seeing the good in Loklorien. The light never went out. The tragedy of it all is what darkness a good heart can be led to."
-
She felt a strange sense of new life injected into her consciousness. As though she had suddenly gone from aimless drudgery and self-drowning to having a renewed sense of hope and excitement, the Lupine found that her footsteps seemed to have more of a sense of purpose. Rather than simply existing to bury herself in work in the effort of forgetting unforgettable memories, she had suddenly (an honestly, quite unexpectedly), been thrown a lifeline. A chance to become the woman she'd always been meant to be. Whatever the will of the Force, it was stronger than her own will, and stronger still than the will of Darth Decepis. The notion that all of this was fate still held no water for her; fate was still an outdated and silly notion. No, it was the will of the Force. The will.
Her normal duties tended to, s'Il had allowed herself time alone in her quarters to change into a fresh uniform, suddenly finding true comfort in the fabric. Before, it had been a prison that she relegated herself to. It'd been a strange comfort in the restriction of duty and loyalty she wore each and every day. But now? Now it had become some truly comforting. She felt purpose-driven once more, as if she'd been reborn.
And stepping through the doors of the mess hall, her eye tracked through the mostly empty area. It was no real surprise that a few pilots were huddled together at a far table, fully engrossed in what looked like a game of cards.
But it was the two men who occupied a table more or less in the centre of the room that arrested her attention quite swiftly.
The beginnings of a frown as she found herself unsurprised that Dage would find his way to Zem so immediately. One foot stepped forward, then another. She was not hungry, and so bypassed the food counter. Instead, she made for the table. Stopping at the edge, she looked down at the occupants; first Zem, then Samus.
Slowly, the Lupine moved to sit. Beside Zem. Her hands moved to rest on the tabletop, hands together, fingers intertwining. Her eyes remained on Samus, but her words were very obviously for Zem.
"I certainly hope that my Executive Officer has been nothing but gracious and respectful."
-
"Oh certainly, Captain."
The Jedi Master maintained a placid little smile on his face as he reciprocated his address to Lok in the same professional manner she'd begun.
"Grousing over the autochef and the rations notwithstanding. We've just been comparing notes."
-
'Comparing notes'. There was a small part of her that did not like the sound of those two words. Samus Dage was no stranger to conspiratorial happenings, and the Lupine gave her XO a suddenly narrow-eyed look. He only offered a smirk and helpless shrug while shoveling a mass of nuna and vegetables into his mouth. No doubt to avoid having to answer any questions. No matter. She had new enough to share.
"We're being diverted to Telos."
Both hands came together on the table's surface, fingers intertwining.
"It seems there is a small matter that requires our attention, and Command has asked that we see to it. They see our current position and proximity, coupled with the fact that Master Vymes is with us, as an advantage that they wish to take."
Finally she angled a sideways look to Zem.
"I am sorry that we'll not be able to return you to Ossus in as timely a fashion as previously thought."
She wasn't sorry, and she knew that he was very well aware that she was not.
-
"That I am with you?"
Matters of military were no stranger to Zem. After all, he'd spent all of the Clone Wars getting to know that particular brand of entropy. Still, the relationship between the Alliance and the Jedi Order was not the same as the relationship between the Republic and the Order. They still worked closely together, but not quite hand in hand as before.
Telos had been a vital stronghold during the clone wars, and later a major imperial staging area. Given it's proximity to the Hydian Way, that brokered no surprise.
"How might I be of service?"
-
The news only elicited a raised eyebrow, but Samus said nothing as he continued to empty his plate. It was one of those necessary evils, to choke down the very stuff that kept you going. He was used to it though, and had developed a decent enough tolerance to bad, pre-packaged food. At least he had the few stopovers at Jovan, and during those times he gorged himself. Thoughts on Jovan inevitably led to thoughts on T'yeellaa, and the rangy blonde found himself suddenly doing his best to quell the less-than-professional musing that always seemed to spring to life. He knew s'Il abhorred extending that second sight of hers unless necessary, but with Master Vymes thrown into the mix, Samus did his best to maintain decorum in his head. The last thing he wanted was to telegraph the happy - and very carnal - memories of the last time they'd stopped at Jovan. T'yeellaa had instigated a game of hide and seek in her quarters, and as usual had 'hid' beneath the covers of-
- bad food. Limp tuber fries. Sad vegetables. Over-processed nuna. Pretend they're crispy tuber fries, steamed veg, and perfectly fire-grilled spicy nuna from the southern regions of Myomar.
-
A single finger twitched slightly, moving to tap a knuckle.
"There's a small group of refugees from Imperial space who have recently turned up; about a month ago if I'm to go by the reports that Command sent me."
Refugees and those escaping the Empire were nothing exactly new, and all three of them knew it. But it was the next bit of information that held the most importance.
"Word is there are Force sensitive children among them, and the Alliance wishes for all of the group to be relocated to Ossus. They understand that the choice is ultimately the Council's, but they are hoping for an amicable solution."
-
"Really?"
Zem's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward so that his elbows met the table.
"Well...I can't speak for the council alone, but I see no reason why we would refuse such a request. Do you know who helped to organize their passage?"
This was a fortuitous turn. Force sensitives on the Imperial side of the galaxy faced tremendous uncertainty and danger. If someone was helping to spirit them away, perhaps they could partner to help even more children.
-
"I do not."
Simple and concise, in much the way that she always was. There was no flowery conjecture, just honest truth. Whoever had shown enough 'compassion' to help these refugees had - in her mind - done so for the credits. She knew what it was like to live hand-to-mouth while scrambling for whatever safe harbor could be found. She'd done it herself, and Zem had been there, at her side, during those terrible times.
"Perhaps we will ask them once we arrive at Telos."
Of course, there was always one more 'thing' to tend to, and s'Il let her eye track from Zem to Dage.
"I've been asked to stop at Jovan first, however. It seems K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei has been plucked from her normal duties to assist us."
-
It was as if she was purposefully provoking him, jerking his thoughts from their studious exertions in imagining his meal as something actually appetizing. He stooped chewing, looked up to meet her mismatched gaze, and slowly followed with a deliberate swallow. The spork was let down, deposited with calm gentleness.
Samus pushed the tray away, towards the middle of the table, and as if on cue Captain s'Ilancy disengaged her own hands to reach out and complete the action, pulling it to find a new spot in front of her.
She could have it. It was horrid anyway.
A respectful nod was given to both of his tablemates, and with a light groan, the blonde rose to stand.
"I'll be in on the bridge," he rumbled.
It was easy to tell that this new news had taken him by surprise, and he was - in the face of it - unwilling to exert any more energy than necessary in pushing down his thoughts on the matter. A courteous nod, and his lanky frame stepped back. He even gave a half-hearted salute before turning on his heel and vacating the mess hall.
-
Zem wished he'd gotten more insight into the unnamed samaritans. That wasn't what the force willed, unfortunately. Loklorien was right, patience was the best virtue here. Perhaps Telos would give more insight into whether they were dealing with simple coyotes or someone they could actively partner with.
It was the next bit of news that confused the Jedi Master. He knew enough of Jovan Station, but Loklorien namedropped a Cizerack officer with a fairly blue-blooded name. For whatever reason, it was enough to cause a visible sea change in her first officer, who promptly excused himself from the table.
"Good talking to you." Zem called after, but by then, Dage was halfway to the mess hall exit. Vymes turned a quizzical expression to his partner.
"Was it something you said?"
-
She'd already polished off one bite of nuna; not so much chewing as simply swallowing. A second sporkful was already on its' way to her mouth when Zem asked his question. She paused, mouth open, and slowly the Lupine closed it once more. She angled her head to afford him a white, sideways look. A slow blink.
And just as slowly, the spork and its' shoveled contents were lowered back down to the plastic tray-plate.
"Well... "
There was a moment of silence as she considered how to best answer.
"I suppose you could say that the two... enjoy each other's company."
-
"Oh."
Zem's face went cryptic for a moment, then a little surprise shone through.
"Oh."
More silence, until he leaned forward a bit, propping with his elbows.
"Meorrrei? The same Meorrrei as..."
-
"T'yeellaa would be her eldest, so yes."
She went back to her food, though at a less barbaric pace. Rather than simply eating with no other purpose than to gain sustenance, the Lupine did her best to slow her pace and intersperse her bites with talk.
"It was not what I expected, but the two seem to like each other well enough."
The spork rested atop a small pile of tubers and she leaned forward a small bit to finally give a sniff to what she'd been eating. It was about what she expected. Only maybe... worse? A frown, and s'Il tapped the table with a fingertip.
"Mother and daughter are mostly night and day however. Do not expect some younger version of Taataani."
-
The Jedi Master looked visibly relieved by that assurance.
"I suppose the galaxy couldn't be large enough for two of them."
It wasn't that his time with the esteemed Senator of Kepaa Brens had been bad - far from it. But the Rrou'fai of the house certainly seemed to suck up all the air in whatever room she inhabited. Even if this K'ohta'rrou was somehow a fraction of the brilliance, he wondered how Commander Dage could maintain course in that gravitational pull.
-
A rueful smile came unbidden to her lips, both corners ticking upward ever-so-slightly.
"I think that if there were two of them, our lives would be planned meticulously until the day that we die."
Not exactly a jab, it was a musing on the level of attention and perseverance that Taataani had shown so recently. A stray look to his own tray of food, and without ceremony the Lupine liberated half of the sponge-like brownie that still sat untouched in the top corner of his plate.
-
"How are you still hungry after Carshoulis?"
It was said in part surprise, and part good fun. Zem fixed Lok with an amused twinkle as he surrendered his brownie without incident.
"I could skip meals for three days and probably be sated. I don't think I've eaten like that since, well...ever."
While gluttony wasn't specifically singled out and forbidden under the Jedi code, Zem had to wonder if that level of indulgence didn't in some way function contrary to the spirit of tempering passions. At the very least, if he spent a month on Carshoulis he might be in no physical condition to duel!
-
Pausing mid-chew, s'Il gave an owlish blink as she stared at him.
Slowly she swallowed, very nearly making an entire production out of such a simple action.
"Metabolism?"
* * *
Jovan hung in space like a sentinal, perched over an invisible line, a watcher. It had gained a steady increase in traffic with each successive visit that s'Il could remember, and in a way she supposed that it was a hopeful thing. She secretly enjoyed the notion of a thriving community in space, and despite what she was sure were a myriad of differences shoved together and made to work out the kinks, there was a necessity to such things.
From her seat on the bridge, the Lupine leaned back, one elbow propping her up only slightly. The drop from hyperspace had been routine, their clearance codes sent and instructions given. But, rather than the normal docking procedures, Mr. Varin would be taking a shuttle to pick up their temporarily attached guest. It wasn't anything particularly out of the ordinary, but still; it would've been nice to see the station once more. The last time that she'd visited she had found a rather enjoyable Cizerack restaurant that specialized in a multitude of marinated raw meats. It'd been delightful, and she had very nearly made herself sick.
Now however, there was no time it seemed for small breathers, and the Captain turned an almost lazy eye to KHER.
"Is Mr. Varin off, then?"
"He is, Ma'am."
"Good."
A moment passed, and she shifted her gaze to Zem, who had taken up residence beside the ship's AI.
"A shame we don't have time to dock. You would like it there, I think."
-
Master Vymes remained somewhat skeptical of that assessment as he stood at his partner's side, taking in the vista afforded of the station from the bridge.
"Taking holiday on an Imperial space station? After the pampering on Carshoulis, I think you may be slightly mad."
And that was part of the amusement - he was finding more and more that Loklorien s'Ilancy often had him figured out before he'd made up his own mind.
-
"Slightly mad? Perhaps."
Rising to stand, s'Il took a few steps forward, gesturing for Zem to follow. Past the pilot's nest and up the shallow stairwell that opened onto the grated walkway that lined the front viewport. It afforded a mostly unobstructed view of the space before them, and the station that sat so quietly in space, surrounded by traffic of all types.
"It's actually rather remarkable despite how it appears. One would almost say it's bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside."
-
K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei maintained a good sabacc face in uniform, but she was giddy on the inside. A temporary assignment to warship duty as an expert advisor was a welcome change of scenery in that the scenery actually changed on a ship. It was a reminder of the life she'd temporarily deferred to become the executive officer of Jovan station. A life that she vowed to return to at some point.
Then there was the small bonus of serving for a couple of days with Samus. It was such a good idea on flimsi, but this was in itself completely unchartered territory. Aside from sitting on joint command conferences, they had never actually served together. Would that work out? Would they get on, or would it be a professional disaster? In a relationship of firsts, there was a lot of rocky terrain in kissing an equal, and T'yeellaa far from an expert.
It all left her with a few clawhoppers flipping in her stomach, but you wouldn't figure it by looking at her. The K'ohta'rrou's duty uniform was immaculate from her cap, high starch collar, and white gloves. She carried a small duffel with just enough basics to accomodate her for two or three days of duty. As the shuttle ahead pierced the atmospheric shield, T'yeellaa waited as an aloof species of statue.
-
The approach to his designated berth was made smoothly, and Jeremy brought the nu-class shuttle in past the atmospheric barriers, letting the old craft hang for but a moment before beginning the slow taxi. The wings had been folded, and landing struts extended slowly from a blanket of ejected hydraulic steam. Jeremy Varin was more than aware of the practical dinosaur he so regularly flew, but sometimes you just couldn't beat the classics. They were hardy, built like hovertanks, and difficult to truly replace.
He didn't bother making the effort to extricate himself from the cockpit, as this was a simple pick-up. It helped that he could already see his passenger waiting for him, and even as the shuttle touched down softly, he reached forward to activate the boarding ramp. A hiss of more vented steam, and the nose of the old beast began to slowly extend downward.
-
The lack of curbside service was a feature, not a drawback. T'yeellaa eschewed the innate Meorrrei urge to insist on pampering, and a career in the military had cemented that ethic. She bounded up the plank, duffel in tow. With the pilot situated in a lofted seating platform above the entry, there was little to no incentive to get chummy. That was fine by her.
Securing her duffel in the cargo webbing, T'yeellaa strapped in the nearest seat, taking care to mind the hem of her jacket as she negotiated the buckle.
-
From his perch above, Jeremy hadn't really paid much attention to the officer waiting, but the internal sensors told him enough that she'd boarded. Everything now was routine, and he couldn't help the smirk that etched onto his face. He remembered her well enough, though there was a healthy suspicion that she had not a clue that the very same man she'd shared angry drinks with was now her pilot. It was one of those lovely little things about fate, and even as he began the quicklist point checks for in and out pick-ups, he couldn't help himself. In one fluid motion Varin retracted the boarding ramp while activating the talkback comm.
"Pleasure to have you aboard, K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei."
In the grand scheme of things it wasn't much, but Jeremy had strangely been gifted with the luck of his voice sounding exactly the same, whether face to face or over the comm.
"I hope you've not brought any of that brown, angry firewater with you."
-
Her ears flicked as the vox chimed in. Even through the scrubbed electronic comm line, the voice was familiar enough to recognize.
"Jerremjy Varrjin."
Pilot Jeremy Varin, it would seem. T'yeellaa spoke to the ceiling, lacking a reference point. He'd be a much hazier memory if it wasn't for an awful lot of good advice rendered when she needed it. The K'ohta'rrou smiled as she leaned back in her seat.
"Forrtunateljy, jI thjink both the Alljiance and Cizeri navjiess have ssomethjing to ssajy agajinsst mjixjing ljiquorr and actjive dutjy."
-
He gently pulled on the yoke, feeling as the shuttle responded smoothly. It had become his baby in a way, and he took care of his ship nowadays in just the same manner as he had cared for that old, battle-worn TIE fighter he used to fly. Some things from the academy never died; at least, the basic things. And as the nu-class shuttle lifted once again, repulsors easing it back, Jeremy began the turn that would leave them facing open space. He talked as he flew.
"I suppose when legitimate trappings get laid on, this man's 'navy' has to start behaving."
It was a tongue in cheek jab at the less than official manners that had once been part and parcel for the old Rebel Alliance. Of course, he had not thrown his towel in with the Alliance until Endor, and everything before then had been uniforms, inspections, and flying. Oh, he'd told the K'ohta'rrou the truth about not being accepted to the fleet academy, but he'd also left out the fact that he had reapplied. That time, he'd gotten in.
The shuttle cleared the atmospheric barrier, and as it did its' wings folded down, locking into place.
He purposefully chose not to ask her how the festival had gone; her previous frustrations at having to go were enough that he didn't want to pry. Instead, he spoke of things much more immediate.
"If you want, I'll send down the back seat for you so you can get a look at your new home away from home. Well, a closer look than a screen on some terminal in the station's command hub, at least."
-
The K'ohta'rrou smiled at the offer.
"jI'd ljike that."
A moment later, the copilot seat raced down with a hiss of hydraulics. T'yeellaa unbuckled from her passenger seat, taking the copilot seat's promised vantage. She hooked in, then slapped the recall button on the armrest, sending the chair up into the cockpit, where she sat behind and slightly above the shuttle pilot. The semi dome of transparisteel afforded a wide open view of space, allowing the K'ohta'rrou an unfettered look at the one-of-a-kind ship they were approaching. There was something to be said of the artistry of Khera'va'ssio, and someone could certainly say it a lot better than T'yeellaa could. It wasn't exactly the beauty of the ship she was admiring. It was an idea. A sense of place. Unseen by Varin, T'yeellaa's eyes appeared wistfully longing.
"Nai'enna y'ennetaiya kau suurro'arr."
-
He smiled knowingly. Even despite his inability to understand Cizeri, the emotion in her voice was easily translated. His attentions returned to his controls however, and the normal docking chatter he'd come to expect filled the air around him.
"Nu Alpha Seven Seven Zero, you're cleared for berth."
"Copy that, Control."
His head angled slightly up and to the side; his passenger was very much out of sight, but he knew that she would know he was addressing her.
"You ever been on one of these old boats before, Ma'am?"
-
"Nothjing ljike thjiss beforre, no."
T'yeellaa had served on old ships. But old to her was measured in decades. And she'd flown aboard privately-owned vessels of tremendous beauty. Her mother certainly owned numerous star yachts, at least one was built by hand. But a ship like Khera'va'ssio? It was in a class of it's own, or at least quite nearly.
"Therre ussed to be a rrace out jin the Outerr Rrjim known asss the Drragon Vojid Rrun. Do jyou know of jit?"
-
"I've heard of it, yeah."
He talked as he flew, his skills on display as the old shuttle smoothly slid past the atmospheric barrier and into the hangar. A row of A-Wings were nestled along one side, each in their own cubby-port that allowed just enough room for the pilot to slip in. Lining the other side of the hangar was an assortment of supply crates, surrounded by a small smattering of deck hands and a single cargo crane suspended from a heavily reinforced track above.
"Never had the desire to do anything like that though. I mostly stuck to those old TIE's and did what I was told. Course, times change, and now I'm here."
Some might find the shift from a fighter pilot to shuttle duty as a demotion or some form of insult, but for Jeremy it'd been a godsend. He had found that there was a certain detestable level reached when pushed into the cockpit of something that didn't even have shields. Some pilots ate up the fact that there was no safety net, but for him he found the nu-class to be a far superior craft, and a machine worth his time. He babied the old bird, and while he'd not named her yet, there was a healthy degree of affection he felt for each deckplate and console panel.
The short descent to the deck was made gently, and he settled them comfortably down.
A quick look toward the large, arching entrance showed him that there would be at least someone to meet the K'ohta'rrou. Not that he didn't enjoy her company, but he had his own duties, after all. And he suspected that she was the sort to get down to business at the earliest opportunity.
"Looks like you're getting the executive treatment," he grinned while beginning his shut-down sequences.
"The old gal actually left the bridge to welcome you aboard."
-
Back to reality.
T'yeellaa unpacked her memories of the old race she'd witnessed as a cub. Khera'va'ssio wasn't a hand-built star racer, and Loklorien s'Ilancy wasn't the near-mythical Loo Ree Anno. But the special nature of this ship couldn't be dispelled, especially as a veteran starship captain.
"Thank jyou forr the rrjide, Jerremjy."
The K'ohta'rrou tapped the debark control on her seat, triggering the lowering mechanism that would take her back down to the cabin.
"jI'll ssee jyou on the rreturrn trrjip."
Gathering her things from the cargo webbing, T'yeellaa stood at the gangplank as it lowered.
-
There was a certain level of respect that any captain would extend to another. In her mind, s'Il still saw T'yeellaa Meorrrei as just that; a fellow officer that held the reigns of a starship. Oh, the woman might not be at the helm of her own ship any longer, but... how did the saying go? Taking the captain from the ship, but never the ship from the captain? It made sense in a way, and moreso when the Lupine attributed it to other aspects of life. There were so many deep connotations to consider and weigh, though it was never a chore. It was simple courtesy and understanding. And above all else - it was pure decency.
Standing at a short distance from Jeremy's shuttle, s'Il kept her features passive and level as the edge of the nose ramp clanged upon the decking.
-
T'yeellaa was again the picture of immaculate order by the time the ramp had dropped. With the brim of her officer's cap pulled squarely parallel with the top of her eyes, she was as sharp as the best representative of the Trade Navy. It wasn't that she was simply making a good impression for Captain s'Ilancy. It had as much to do with her own sense of pride. She'd ask the same of the women and men under her command, therefore that was what she'd also do.
"Rrequest perrmjisssjion to come aboarrd, Rrou'a."
Her duffle rested by her feet, leaving T'yeellaa's white-gloved hands free to rest in rigid array at her sides.
-
Hands clasped behind her back, s'Il let the request travel the air between them, and a scant moment later she gave a respectful nod.
"Permission granted, K'ohta'rrou."
Taataani's eldest was a world apart from her mother. There were certainly a few similarities, but T'yeellaa Meorrrei was her own woman. She was also very military, and while she herself had not exactly spent her life in such, the Lupine could understand the comfort drawn from the order demanded in such a life. It was a realization that she'd come to ever since Ossus, and she had drawn the protective layers of duty around her like the most comforting of blankets.
Still though, a smile could not be completely held back, and she allowed one corner of her lips to tick upward ever so slightly.
"I am glad that Commander Akiena agreed to give you up for a spell."
-
With permission given, T'yeellaa retrieved her luggage, falling into step with the Captain for the long walk to exit the hangar. s'Ilancy's words didn't sway T'yeella's disciplined mouth into a smile, but her eyes brightened a bit beneath the brim of her cap.
"Begrrudgjingljy, rrou'a."
No doubt because T'yeellaa had been an effective goalie to keep civilian problems away from Akiena, though she suspected he'd admit even more.
"He told me to not get too comforrtable aboarrd a sstarrsshjip."
-
As the two passed beneath the large arching doorway that marked the border between the Hangar and the rest of the ship, s'Il couldn't help the rueful hrmph at the notion that there was anything comfortable aboard her ship to take a liking to.
"Well, there is not much to take comfort in here, I am afraid to say."
Her ship had fewer amenities than a ship half-way through retrofitting; or so she had been told on more than one occasion. It was an assessment that usually elicited a noncommittal shrug. It was acceptable for a ship of the line, and she was satisfied with it.
"Although, he has spent time aboard himself, and should know that we've no real additional accommodations."
Rounding a bend, she was mindful to keep a steady pace; nothing to rush, but nothing too slow, either. It was to allow her guest to familiarize as she walked; to get a basic feel for her temporary surroundings.
"I have, however, made certain that your quarters are acceptably furnished."
-
The Captain was telling the truth. As they passed from the hangar into the interior of the ship, T'yeellaa could plainly tell that it was considerably less-appointed than a Cizerack galleon. It wasn't as brutalist as the Imperial decor of Jovan, so it at least felt a little more intimate. s'Ilancy mentioned her quarters, which gave T'yeellaa relief. Her complicated relationship status with Samus wasn't exactly a secret, but the K'ohta'rrou certainly didn't want to deal with the assumption that she might be cohabiting. Was that hypocrisy, or did it matter more once you left a space station and boarded a ship?
"Thank jyou, rrou'a."
Keeping an easy pace with her superior, T'yeellaa mindfully kept the sway in her tail a bit restricted. The corridors weren't nearly as spacious as they were on Jovan.
"jI've rread what ljittle jI could on jyourr sship, and jI'm jimprresssed. He punchess well above hjiss wejight classs."
-
A small laugh as she gave a nod in thanks at the compliment.
"Unfortunately he is also very old, and thus prone to a lovely array of... quirks."
It was the nicest way she could think of to describe KHER's behavior, and s'Il simply left it at that as they passed a pair of pilots on their way to the hangar. Both men gave a quick salute that was returned in kind with a respectful nod on her part. Her pilots were a decent mix of veterans and new faces; each one dedicated to their fighters and the Cause that they flew under. Whether they actually appreciated their posting aboard her ship she did not know. Oh, she could certainly divine their feelings on the matter, but doing such a thing was distasteful to her, and so she kept her thoughts well in check.
There was pride though, when her thoughts turned to her ship. KHER had become a confidant (even friend) in as intimate a way that a ship could be with a captain. There was a connection, that the both of them came from the same stock, and s'Il often encouraged the old thing to go beyond the boundaries that he originally been placed within so long ago. Her reasoning was that both were no longer in the past - they existed now, and they had to adapt. The two often enough spent nights alone, discussing the old philosophies, rights, wrongs, the old feuds, and even some of what little past he could recall from before his first separation.
Absently, the Lupine let a hand extend, rapping two knuckles against the bulkhead.
"But a captain could not ask for a better ship."
-
T'yeellaa paused in the corridor, placing a white-gloved hand against the bulkhead that marked the divide between compartments. Her eyes half-lidded, as if she was here and someplace else at the same time. A small smile crept into her expression.
"Therre'ss neverr one ljike jyourr own."
She could feel the faint quaver in the hull - the call and response of millions of tons of durasteel against a hypermatter reactor. It had a life to it, like the pulse of a great animal. If Loklorien s'Ilancy was a good captain, and there was no reason to believe she wasn't, she'd know every shudder, pulse, and growl like a mother recognized her cub. T'yeellaa hadn't had children - had no plans for it at all - but she imagined that feeling was the closest she'd come to what it was like.
"Perrmjisssjion to sspeak candjidljy, rrou'a?"
-
Slowing to a stop in front of a lift, s'Il sent a sideways look to T'yeellaa as she depressed the call button.
Her free hand came up in a gesture of good-will.
"By all means."
-
"When we fjirrsst met, jI wass the Suun'da'rrou of a galleon, and jyou werre a Jedji rrefugee. That wassn't that long ago. jYou've commanded a sshjip forr a jyearr? Two jyearrss?"
-
It was a fair question, though complicated in its' own right.
"I suppose that is an accurate enough assessment. Though, before you and I met, there were many years that I spent aboard your brother's current ship. All of that was following the Clone Wars however. After I returned to service, I served closely under... General Thrule aboard Dauntless."
The brutal truth was often the only answer that could be given.
-
That wasn't exactly what she was getting at, and T'yeellaa shook her head.
"Sserrvjice jissn't command, rrou'a. Command jiss morre than jusst a prrofesssjion. jYou gjive jit morre than that. jYou gjive jit jyourr kaa'rri, knowjing that jyou'rre marrrjyjing a jealouss hussband. A hussband that doessn't tolerrate manjy morre jin jyourr ljife."
-
"I grew up in the Temple. Our service was much more than a simple profession."
The doors to the lift opened, and with a deferential nod to her guest, s'Il followed T'yeellaa inside.
"I suppose that I treat my time with the Alliance as I did when I was with the Jedi. My command and my service are one and the same. It is not the same for others, but for me it is as such."
-
The K'ohta'rrou curled her tail halfway around herself, making a small profile as the lift door closed. She kept her eyes on the door, but her mind on the Captain's words.
"Motherr ssajyss jyou have a mate and cubss."
Briefly, T'yeellaa stole a glance at s'Ilancy before going eyes forward again.
"jYou arren't the fjirrst Captajin jI've met who djid. jI ssupposse jI don't underrsstand how."
-
"I had a mate."
The words were out before she could stop them. It was instinctive to speak of Dan now, in such disdainful past-tense. A man that she had once loved with every ounce of her being; a man that held her heart so firmly. To think of Zem as such, so soon after their brief trip was - in her mind - going too far. As things stood now, she had not joined herself to anyone. That would come at a later time.
Of course the matter of her children was entirely different, and there was a momentary flash of grief covered up with stoic resolve.
"As for my children... they are on Ossus. It is best that way."
There was no resentment to her tone, rather it was simply a tired, resigned timbre that answered T'yeellaa. Bowing her head, the Lupine allowed the barest flicker of a half-grin.
"I make time for them when my duties allow."
-
T'yeellaa's ears flinched visibly as she realized she'd crossed a line she couldn't see. The Captain's words were careful almost to the point of tortured. It had been selfish of her to even invoke this line of conversation.
"jI apologjize, rrou'a."
Her ears slowly began to raise again.
"Therre jiss ssuch a thjing asss too candjid jI ssupposse."
-
"Do not apologize. It's not exactly a secret, to be honest."
The lift slowed to a stop before the doors opened once more. With a similar gesture as before, s'Il bade her guest exit first, then followed. The crew level looked identical to the rest of the ship; simple bulkhead lines and bare deckplates.
"We're all subject to the consequences of choices made, no matter the severity. It is a truth that I live with every day."
-
"Noted, rrou'a."
With that, the K'ohta'rrou was at something of a loss for words. How had she gotten here? There had been something she'd been curious on - the juxtaposition of command and other obligations. But she'd found herself quickly in a place where she probably didn't want to be, and had touched a sensitive nerve with the Captain, it seemed.
As they walked the hallway, T'yeellaa's eyes lingered just a moment on a very familiar nametag situated over the controls of one of the simple hatches. Here, as with the rest of the ship, accomodations were somewhat cramped and spartan. There was enough room for the two officers to walk two abreast, but only if no one else was going the other way. Life on a ship often felt like you were stuck in a small town, but the intimacy on Khera'va'ssio was almost palpable. She was surprised that, given the closeness, she couldn't just smell him.
"jI underrsstand that jyourr sshjip carrrjiess a crrew farr ssmallerr than a crrujisserr of ssjimjilarr ssjize."
It was said mainly to freshen up the dead air. T'yeellaa had read what was available to her on the one-of-a-kind craft.
-
She could feel the feelings of discomfort coming from the K'ohta'rrou, as though she had touched upon some angry, sore nerve. It was sore - yes - but there was no anger. And while her own reassurances had obviously not assuaged her guest's worries, s'Il did not waste any time dwelling on the issue. It was not constructive.
She instead focused on the new words that'd been sent her way.
"He does, yes. One of the advantages of having a ship overseen by an artificial intelligence matrix is that many duties become self-sufficient. Though, due to his age, that also comes with a bit of... eccentricity, I suppose you could say."
-
"Eccentrrjicjitjy?"
T'yeellaa's ears raised as she slowed her stride. She knew about problems one dealt with in skippering an older capital ship, but she'd never pegged any of the maintenance issues on Haifa'Iro'Iro as eccentric. He was just long in the tooth. So if not that, then the AI. T'yeellaa's expression turned guarded.
"What kjind of eccentrrjicjitjy?"
She'd heard stories of the veterans of the War of Republic Aggression talk about the tactician droids that were often placed in charge of key military operations. The logic those advanced machines followed sometimes tended to defy convention.
-
The answer to K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei's single-word query came first in the form of a sound. A steady clanking on the metal deckplates that was followed by the appearance of a spindly, towering droid that dwarfed both women easily. KHER had rounded the bend in the corridor with ease, his gait steady and perfectly precise. He moved with a strange grace that seemed perfectly suited for his form, but at odds with it all the same. Inky black eyes fell upon the Captain and their new guest, and slowing his pace, the droid stopped in front of them. Like some preybird, his head angled down to afford each with a long, studious look.
It is good to have you aboard, K'ohta'rrou Meorrei, his voice held bass notes that seemed wrapped in an odd tinny thread; as though his vox held a mishmash of mechanical tones that all demanded to be released at one time. Even through all of it though, the words seemed forced.
The Captain has informed me that I am to provide you with any assistance that you may require during your stay here.
A slight tick of the head, as though the order he'd been given previously grated on him.
I will... do my best.
-
T'yeellaa's ears flinched, and she blinked at the auditory discord from the gangly droid. Nothing at all was subtle about the automaton, and the K'ohta'rrou passed a glance to the Captain before returning her attention to KHER.
"Thank jyou, drrojid."
Had the machine replied in a fussy manner? Did she imagine it?
-
I am KHER. Not 'droid'.
Spoken in a bizarrely clipped tone, even for an automaton. It left little room for any argument.
I oversee all aspects of my larger half, and am tasked with making sure that the crew aboard are safe, a small pause as he cast his black orbs to the Captain.
... insofar as I am sufficiently able.
-
One hand came up then, a single finger raised in caution.
"That is enough. You've seen our guest, now I suggest you take your ruffled feathers elsewhere."
It was as if a parent was scolding a child; and truthfully, it was a tone that she was disturbingly comfortable taking. At the very least, KHER seemed to respond better to it.
"Perhaps Master Vymes would enjoy hearing about your latest little foray into analyzing the Jedi Code?"
-
Mm. Yes.
It was a recommendation that was well enough received, and he looked past the two at an invisible spot in the far distance. His head angled sharply to the side for a split second before her spoke again.
He is just now leaving the mess hall. A wise notion, Captain, he started forward once more, moving between the two as each stepped from his path.
I am sure that he will be much more patient with my questions than you are.
-
KHER departed, leaving a somewhat-bewildered T'yeellaa in his wake.
"jYourr drr..." She paused, correcting, "...KHERr. He'ss eccentrrjic, all rrjight. How do jyou tolerrate that level of..."
She paused, attempting to chew out a better word for it, but Captain s'Ilancy had already hit the nail on the head.
"...eccentrrjicjitjy?"
-
"For as much as he is, he is still very old. Perhaps that makes him easier to deal with."
It was a thought that she'd honestly never considered, and s'Il couldn't help but find herself wondering at the true complexities of the question that T'yeellaa had posed.
"I've honestly never really put a lot of thought into it. I've only just, well, dealt with him. He's actually somewhat like an unruly cub, I must admit."
A strange realization that took root, and one that seemed truer the more she pondered. But, their time was still at a premium, as there was still the mission to consider; as well as making sure that the K'ohta'rrou was satisfactorily provided with her temporary quarters. The Lupine shook her head, as if to tsk at the departing droid.
"He'll no doubt pester Master Vymes for hours, which will allow us a spot of peace."
Turning on her heel, she led the way a few more paces down the corridor before stopping at a nondescript door. It opened at the press of a small thumbprint scan to reveal admittedly spartan quarters. I single room, with a small desk and chair along one wall, a bed along the opposite wall, and a narrow, closed door that led to an equally small fresher.
"It is not much I'm afraid," she stepped back to allow T'yeellaa the chance to enter first.
-
"jI've had mjy ssharre of drrojidss. jI thjink that jif one of them everr sspoke to me ljike that, I'd have jit ssent to majintenance forr a complete djiagnosstjic."
She was skating close to the edge of decorum, but it appeared that Captain s'Ilancy was somewhat in on the joke.
The Captain opened the door to T'yeellaa's quarters, and the K'ohta'rrou took stock. The furnishings were spartan. Even by the lowered expectations she'd acclimated herself to from her new life aboard a former Imperial space station. At least her quarters on Jovan had a common area, kitchenette, and a bed large enough to sleep two. No wonder Samus hadn't invited her aboard earlier. Still, these were the accomodations the Captain afforded her. T'yeellaa imagined that the junior officers and non-comms likely had even less. Possibly as little as a cot and a footlocker. There was no way that she was going to treat this with less than the utmost gratitude.
"Morre than ssuffjicjient, rrou'a." T'yeellaa affirmed with a crisp nod.
-
There were sometimes instances where she allowed herself the indulgence to test the airs around her. It was as much olfactory as it was simple feeling. And as Samus had so bravely held out before, she knew that T'yeellaa was doing the same. Though, it was more a curious lilt to the eddies she felt around them. Less striking in a way, but still as much there. Ushering her guest further in, the Captain allowed the door to close, shutting them both away from the rest of the ship.
Both hands came together then, fingers twining together as she stared unblinking into the K'ohta'rrou's blue eyes.
"I do not care where you choose to spend your evenings, T'yeellaa," there was a quiet note of understanding in her voice. Gone were the tones of a Captain. Now the two were simply women with nothing to distinguish either.
"I know you're capable, and I trust you. Kes has spoken highly of your abilities, and I know he speaks the truth. As well," not exactly a rueful chuckle, but more an acknowledgement, "Samus has vouched for you."
-
T'yeellaa knew where things were going the moment the door closed behind them. A candid discussion she knew would be addressed at some point. It didn't mean she looked forward to it.
"Captajin," She started off, course-correcting with a brief and polite smile, "jI apprrecjiate the efforrt to accomodate me, but jit'ss harrdljy necesssarrjy. jI know jit'ss not a ssecrret that Commanderr Dage and jI arre jinvolved, but we have both made the decjissjion that jit wjill not jimpact ejitherr of uss prrofesssjionalljy. That'ss a sstance jI sstood bjy on Jovan, and jI'll sstand bjy jit herre asss well."
Pausing, the K'ohta'rrou's ears perked slightly.
"Though jI am glad to hearr that Commanderr Akjiena and Commanderr Dage both vouch forr me."
-
"You should be."
There was a small bit of satisfaction that shone in her eye as the Lupine stared at T'yeellaa. The other woman was steadfast in her determination to remain professional, even in the face of their solitude. It was heartening, and cemented the words of both Kes and Samus in her mind.
But, there was still the same strange bit of stiffness that dotted her attempts to be cordial outside of her rank. It was a curse, she supposed; to be forever burdened by the inability to fully commit herself to anything but a stilted, approachable individual. It plagued her now despite the efforts she was taking.
"I am... no good at being personable. Never had the talent for it, really. But, I do know that for as much as people and circumstances change, each stay equally the same."
The 'I'm trying to be nice' was left unspoken.
-
"That would appearr to make two of uss, then." T'yeellaa admitted, her ears lowering a little.
Maybe she should take this aside as the opportunity it was presented as - the chance to live life outside the uniform. T'yeellaa usually told anyone who pressed that her standoffishness was simply a product of the Navy, but that wasn't quite true. Worse, she suspected that Captain s'Ilancy knew it. She had been a Jedi, after all.
"Old habjitss, rrou'a. The Navjy doess encourrage jyou to pack ljight when jit comess to perrssonal matterrss, but jI thjink jI've grrown to prreferr that at all tjimess. Betterr to be a K'ohta'rrou than to be a Meorrrei."
-
There was a deep understanding in the sentiment that was uttered, and s'Il found herself in much the same situation as T'yeellaa. In a way, it was surprising. But, at the same time it was not. She knew that Taataani's children each held unique gifts and attributes; some stayed close, and others struck out to find their own ways in the galaxy.
She nodded.
"I may have less of a mother's name over me, but there are... other things that loom just the same." It was a private admission that she chose to give now.
"It is better to be Alliance rather than a Jedi."
Her brow pinched then, as she pursed her lips in remembrance of her recent days at the Meorrrei Matron's villa. Everything there had been - despite her initial misgivings and few spots of uncomfortable moments - something so wonderfully unexpected. It had seemed to breath new life into her.
"But, that being said, one cannot ignore the good that those larger names do manage to bring forth amidst the chaos they inevitably or unintentionally create."
-
The equivocation that Captain s'Ilancy offered elicited a raised eyebrow. T'yeellaa removed her officer's cap, a small visible token that she was attempting the game of being personable. The motion revealed her platinum hair, sharply parted and drawn in a bun at the base of her neck. She tucked her cap under an arm.
"jI've neverr had rreasson to trrusst the Jedji Orrderr. jI wass verrjy jyoung durrjing the warr, but old enough to hearr the sstorrjiess. Majybe thejy arre jaundjiced bjy a vanqujisshed perrsspectjive. jYou'rre the onljy Jedji jI've met, sso forr what jit'ss worrth, jyou've challenged mjy prreconceptjionss."
The K'ohta'rrou's eyes diverted momentarily to the deck.
"jI'm told that Jedji can rread a perrsson'ss thoughtss. jIss that trrue?"
-
Her hands shifted then, coming apart momentarily before shifting to find themselves once more at the small of her back.
"Jedi are... like any other people. They have strengths and weaknesses, and are just as accountable to their failings as every person in this galaxy. Some have particular gifts for diplomacy; some for war. Others are empathic and have great abilities in understanding the thoughts of others. I am not one of those. I can feel base notions and emotions, but that is all. Acute intentions are beyond me."
She found herself somewhat curious over the question.
"My talents were more for the martial disciplines, and my Master kept me focused largely on those. About the closest I can come to divining a person's precise thoughts is in battle."
A slight, rueful laugh.
"Master Windu called it Battle Meditation. Back then though, I called it frustrating."
-
What s'Ilancy said fell on disappointed ears. T'yeellaa hoped that the Jedi somehow tapped into a code within her mother that no one else had been able to break. That she'd associated with her because she knew her motivations and intentions were wholly good-spirited. The reality turned out to be rather pedestrian. The Jedi were like any other people, alright. Loklorien s'Ilancy couldn't crack acute intentions. Unfortunately, her mother kept those locked airtight in a vault.
"jI have no doubt that jyou arre a grreat warrrjiorr and leaderr. The Battle of Osssuss sspeakss forr jitsself."
Placating words, and T'yeellaa gave them with an affirming nod.
"Even jif jit djidn't, jI'd hearr no end of jit frrom Rrou'fai and Arr'uhai aljike. Mjy brrotherr thjinkss jyou can walk on waterr."
-
To hear such words made her smile then, and s'Il bowed her head in a slight bit of embarrassment.
"When your brother first met me, I was very close to birthing my first child. As such, I was in a very different state of existence than the one I'm in now."
The 'now' was a life so far removed from when Sanis had landed on Cathar with the burly, barrel-chested Cizerack tagalong at his heels.
"Cirr is perhaps the most honest and loyal person I know."
Pursing her lips, she let her broken gaze lock with T'yeellaa's own eyes.
"Ossus would not have been won without him."
A moment of thought, as she considered the woman who stood before her. For all of Taataani's flowery words and grand gestures, there was something to be said for her cubs; particularly the ones that had forged into such new territory.
"But, it is not just Cirr who has... " she paused, trying to find the right wording.
"... gone beyond what was expected."
-
Talk about Cirrsseeto made T'yeellaa think about the first time she'd confronted him about his service - during the Jovan hostage crisis. She hadn't been prepared to deal with the notion that her brother had become almost a completely different person. The very thought that he'd signed up to dance on that razor's edge filled her at first with a sense of shame and failure. In her mind, she still saw herself as his protector, and he still needed protecting. Going from that to the feeling that he not only didn't need her - that he surpassed her - it filled her with a lot of misplaced resentment. It was an awful thought, but if the hostage crisis didn't happen, they may never have reconciled at all.
"jI have a larrge famjiljy full of ambjitjiouss, vajin, powerrful, and manjipulatjive ssjibljingss, Captajin. Cirrsseeto posssesssess few Meorrrei vjirrtuess. He'ss betterr becausse of jit."
Then s'Ilancy turned the discussion to an unexpected implication.
"What do jyou mean?" T'yeellaa asked, somewhat guardedly. Her ears cocked slightly askew as she tried to tease out the Captain's words.
-
It was a thin smile that turned up one corner of her mouth.
"You don't give yourself enough credit."
For as long as she had known Taataani Meorrrei, s'Il knew also that the matron cast a very long shadow. For those that strove to emerge from it, it was a difficult battle. But not insurmountable. T'yeellaa Meorrrei had done just that whether she realized it or not, and even if she had thought her assignment to Jovan Station a setback, the truth of the matter was exactly the opposite.
"The position that you are in now is one that will only take you closer to being remembered for you, and not your name."
-
"jI'm glad that jyou thjink sso."
T'yeellaa's expression turned wistful. She wasn't ungrateful for the sentiment, but was the former Jedi being naive? She'd lashed out againt her mother the instant she found out she was to be posted to Jovan, because it was certainly the Rrou'fai's doing. And in doing so, Taataani simply pointed out that her daughter certainly had ambition to match her namesake. It would never be enough for Taataani's eldest to simply take up the mantle. She expected T'yeellaa to surpass her, just as she'd done to become the matriarch herself.
Still, T'yeellaa resisted. She tried to manifest herself as a repudiation of her mother's manipulation and double-dealing. Some days it felt like victory. Other days? It felt like she was just putting off the inevitable. So where did that leave her? Her career? Samus?
"jI wonderr jif mjy motherr thought the ssame wajy when sshe wass jyoungerr. Therre'ss a ssajyjing among Cizerack, Captajin. A trrue Rrou'fai doessn't jinhejirrjit the tjitle. Thejy take jit. Mjy grrandmotherr jiss sstjill aljive. jI can tell jyou that sshe djidn't passs the mantle to mjy motherr out of the goodnesss of herr hearrt. But sshe'ss harrdljy a vjictjim. Sshe ssowed herr undojing herrsself.
Sso that'ss funnjy, ne? All jI've prroven jiss that jI can beat the oddss. All jI've done jiss prrove mjy motherr rrjight. Who'ss to ssajy that one dajy jI won't turrn that ambjitjion agajinsst herr and prrove jI'm a Meorrrei afterr all?"
-
For a few quiet moments, s'Il held T'yeellaa's gaze. The was curiosity in her eye, as well as a small glimmer of probing interest.
"You speak of all these things that are expected of you or one in your position; but what is it that you want?"
A simple question on the surface that held a myriad of complexity beneath.
-
What did she want?
The first thing on her tongue nearly blurted out - command of Haifa'Iro'Iro again. But as much as she loved the ship, that wasn't the answer. Nor was the answer to command a larger ship. Those were points on a line she was currently walking. Mother had said that Jovan station would be a posting to attract a great deal of attention. Attention that would take her places.
Was that it? Ambition for it's own sake? She wasn't that shallow, so what was it?
"Wjith all due rresspect, rrou'a? jI want to be the one gjivjing jyou orrderrss. Thjiss jiss the path jI've taken, and jI want to go asss farr asss jI can and know jI djid jit mjysself."
-
It was an answer that caused an honest smile to finally show itself, and the Lupine afforded her guest a respectful nod.
"Remember that, and it will one day happen."
Taking a shifting step back, she opened the door and retreated back out into the corridor.
"And when it does, I will serve as faithfully as I always have."
-
There was a faint smile on T'yeellaa's face as she watched Captain s'Ilancy leave. She hadn't salved her with a saccharine platitude. She'd left the K'ohta'rrou with her own justification as her road map.
"Captajin..."
She seated her cap back squarely on her head.
"Perrmjisssjion to jinsspect the brrjidge?"
-
A moment of thought was ended agreement.
"Of course."
-
* * *
The bridge was a quiet place for the time being. With both the Captain and KHER gone, it seemed almost ghostly, even. Oh, there was the normal chatter going on at muted levels, but something was missing that was - well, it was rather obvious.
Samus Dage sat in the Captain's chair, sifting through the contents of a datapad as Mr. Rahgus made his final telemetry reports with Jovan Command. Everything normal, everything standard and much as they'd been the last time they'd been through.
Scrolling past a few of the report titles, Samus idly tapped the uppermost subject line and set about skimming over its' contents.
"Clearance to begin our exit trajectory, Commander."
"Mm."
The Farguhl knew Dage well enough to understand his permission had been given to continue, and Rahgus gripped the control throttles as he pulled the slightly back. Comfortable in the pilot's nest, he went about bringing them about, setting his course and waiting for KHER to finish plotting the course for their next jump.
"Looks like we'll be a few more minutes until the jump."
"Mm."
-
T'yeellaa found her way to the bridge unaccompanied. No need for a hand-holding tour, the K'ohta'rrou had long-since made due diligence a part of her life as a naval officer. New ship? That meant knowing where everything was found, backwards and forward. Even though Khera'va'ssio was only a temporary post, T'yeellaa certainly wasn't going to embarrass herself by asking a junior officer for something as simple as directions.
All backs were to her as she entered the room, which suited T'yeellaa just fine. She strolled up to stand just behind the captain's chair.
"Ourr courrsse jiss sset forr Teloss?" She asked, more rhetorically than anything. It was the best way to announce her presence. T'yeellaa resisted the urge to look to the man in the chair, keeping her eyes fixed ahead at passing space.
-
"That it is," came the easy rumble as his eyes continued their inspections of the report he was currently engrossed in. It was all much the same, and with a sigh he lowered the 'pad down to perch it atop one leg. A thin-lipped expression graced his features, brow slightly pinched as his eyes moved up to take in the view before them. Despite the mundane appearance, Samus was focused on making sure that their time before the jump was as it should be. He was doing what he knew best, and felt at home. T'yeellaa's presence was a welcome addition, though both of them knew that just because they were together for this little mission did not necessarily mean they were free to act as they wished. Each had a job to perform. Though, in a strange bit of reflection, he realized that this was the first time that she had seen him, well, actually doing his job.
"Should be a few more minutes before we enter hyperspace. KHER is finishing his calculations."
"We're past the jump boundaries for Jovan, Sir," Rahgus didn't even bother to look back as he spoke, and instead kept his attentions forward.
Leaning forward, the blonde rested an elbow on the armrest while twisting his upper body around to look at the K'ohta'rrou.
"If the K'ohta'rrou wishes," his free hand moved to gesture toward the shallow stairway that led up to the viewscreen walkway, "... she is more than welcome to give herself a front row view for when we jump."
A brief wink was snuck in.
"It's a nice view."
-
He wore the chair well.
It was an on-the-fly assessment, and T'yeellaa couldn't help but evaluate him on even the smallest detail. Of course, why wouldn't he? He'd commanded a frigate before this posting, with combat action notched on his jacket to boot. In comparison, the only combat T'yeellaa had was from border interdiction - battling flea-bitten pirates and slavers along the Thalassian frontier.
The very frontier they were now heading towards.
While the frontier was now a portion of the larger border between Alliance and Imperial space, it had just a few years ago been claimed by the Empire in it's entirety. Of course, there was claiming and there was enforcing, and the Empire didn't see much value in deploying their star destroyers to deal with criminals who were more interested in focusing their depredations on Cizeri ships. Piracy flourished in the gap between Imperial interest and Cizeri reach. Now, with the so-called peace in effect, the pirates of the Thalassian frontier were squeezed by one side on one day, and used as proxies by the same side the next. Neither side had spent a great deal of effort in putting the problem to rest entirely. The calculus may have made sense to someone like her mother, but to T'yeellaa and other officers of the line, it was irritating.
The K'ohta'rrou snapped out of that particular drudgery, putting her critical eyes at ease, so that instead of treacherous star systems, she could see beauty. Gai'tou was, even in a Captain's chair, a pure romantic.
"A vjiew frrom the brrjink, Commanderr?" Her ears perked.
"jIssn't that morre of an jImperrjial tendencjy to sstand sso farr ahead on the deck?"
-
A single eyebrow rose in answer, and he held a smirk at bay.
"Sometimes a view is just a view."
Finally he allowed a bit of a smile to peek through.
"I highly doubt anyone here would accuse you of being too Imperial if you chose to indulge. Captain s'Ilancy does it often enough as is."
-
"Then jI wjill deferr to the Captajin'ss conventjion."
What went unsaid was T'yeellaa's belief that the best seat in the house was indeed a seat. From a distance in the Captain's chair, you tended to find perspective. Still, this was a voyage of firsts. Gloved hands clasped behind her back, T'yeellaa ascended the trio of steps to the forward catwalk.
Beneath her feet, the telltale vibrations of course correcting maneuvering jets went quiet. The ever-so-slight changes of pitch in the starfield became as still as a painting. On Samus's word, next would come a thrum of spooling power, then the brilliant starburst of hyperlight.
She couldn't pretend to be that nonchalant. It was always a beautiful sight.
-
Moments after they entered hyperspace, Dage rose to his feet. He moved to the pilot's nest, standing beside it with a strangely satisfied look on his face. The kaleidoscope of pinwheeling starlines was always beautiful, and he never tired of watching the spectacle.
"What's our time in the lane look like."
Rahgus peeled his own eyes away from the viewscreen to study the holographic readout resting just beyond the left control throttle.
"Looks like a few hours. Three and a some change."
"Fair enough," he pushed away from the nest, moving toward the stairs. Up and onto the walkway, the Commander approached the K'ohta'rrou, his hands clasped behind him as his lips held a smirk. He stopped beside her, and turned his eyes to display cartwheeling before them.
"He's a warship, but at least he offers a good view, yes?"
-
There was a lot more that she wanted to say in that moment. Riding on a feather in the winds of hyperlight was more than just a view. T'yeellaa had once been a Suun'da'rrou - a Captain of the Trade Navy. Her transition to K'ohta'rrou was the necessary one step back for the promise of three steps forward, but she couldn't give a damn what they called her when the day was done. She missed this. The life on a ship. The sense that where it moved, so did you. It was more than the literal. Moving light years was insignificant to where your heart could go. This was freedom.
Samus was looking at her. Well, he was looking at the hyperlight vortex, but she knew that he was paying just as much attention to her in the peripheral. What she wouldn't give to have a clear bridge. To share a kiss, alone save for ten billion stars moving by too quick to get a good look.
"When jI wass a cub, jI'd look jinto hjyperrljight and bljink."
T'yeellaa demonstrated, snapping her eyes open and shut in quick procession.
"jI'd trrjy to bljink sso fasst that the lasst thjing jI mjight ssee beforre the black mjight be a ssjingle pojint of ljight."
Her tail swayed close to Samus, pausing just away from the calf of his right leg, as if there was a forcefield of impropriety preventing further incursion.
"jIt'ss alwajyss sseemed to me that therre'ss morre to the maelsstrrom than jusst sstarrss. Jusst ljike Tu'aa Hyeeiaali jiss morre than jusst the pajint on the canvass."
-
"It's freedom."
A simple enough answer for him. Dage had been a country rube on Myomar, growing up with his best friend Marlon Kori and spending days maintaining grain sifters and herding livestock. It was idyllic in a way, but it was... sameness. There had never been the ability to go beyond. No way to break free from the normal everyday life of... exactly what had been done each day before. But then, Dan Thrule had come along. He'd had a young, sour-looking Jedi survivor with him, and both had promised hope. They'd not promised survival, but they had brought the strange, unspoken notion that there was more. More than the same. More than the ho-hum of maintaining sifters and watching over herds.
"It's a promise of more to see and more to know."
-
Like he'd stolen the words off her tongue. It wasn't that she and Samus were alike in every way. It just happened to be that they hit the same notes when they mattered. The rest was just harmony. She knew the context of freedom he was talking about. He never talked much about the one bantha world he was from, but T'yeellaa knew well enough that he couldn't shake it off his boots fast enough.
In the cool flicker of blue light, he looked handsome and thoughtful. The lines on his face didn't age him so much as told a story, and she never got tired of reading it. And she'd turned a page to a new chapter, finally able to see Commander Dage in his element. Confident, self-assured, mastering rapport with his crew.
"jI alwajyss hated to rreljinqujissh the conn. jI ussed to alwajyss put off mjy rreljief forr asss long asss posssjible. Everrjythjing frrom herre feelss ljike jit alwajyss ought to. Even on a bad dajy."
-
* * *
Master Jedi, I assure you that we have plenty of time to discuss the particulars of this Code of yours. We'll not be arriving at Telos for another three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and zero-four-one seconds. That is more than enough for you to explain the inconsistencies.
KHER had found the old Jedi easily, cornering the poor man with insistent curiosity. He towered over Zem easily enough as the two now found themselves sharing a lift. Well, the MMU had more or less imposed himself rather than ask to accompany; after all, Master Vymes was aboard his larger half. It was within his rights to engage in questioning the validity of a creed if he so desired. And right now, with the Captain's round about blessing, KHER had done his level best to pry an answer from the Jedi. There was no getting an answer from the Captain - he'd tried often enough and each time she simply deflected or actively ignored him.
I have studied your Creed and analyzed it to the best of my ability, but whatever wisdom is said to be held... I have yet to understand it.
-
"The inconsistencies?" Zem asked, mildly perturbed yet unsurprised. This had all the makings of a setup. He wasn't exactly fond of Loklorien's droid avatar, but it was mostly a harmless annoyance. It was probably best to humor the thing for a few minutes before making his way to the bridge.
-
It holds direct contradictions of itself. This is detrimental to its' effectiveness.
If droids could blink, KHER would've done just that as slowly as possible.
Would it not be better for the Jedi on the whole if their Code gave a singular message?
-
"I'd expect a machine to ask that kind of question." Zem replied with a pinch of genteel sass as he crossed his arms.
"The Jedi Order isn't trying to make a homogeneous product. This isn't widgets. What you see as direct contradictions is ambiguity in a living document that a lot of folks spend a lot of time thinking on. It's the journey to suss that out which helps a Jedi to grow."
-
But if the message was clear from the beginning, then there would be no need for the Jedi to think on such things. Would that not be preferable?
This need for vagaries confounded him, and his processors could make neither head nor tail of it.
It seems that the simple act of existence has enough ambiguity. Why include it in your creed?