The White Phoenix

orto plutonia

In orbit over the swirling white marble of Orto Plutonia, I stood tall upon the viewing catwalk. I stared at the snowy planet below with a mix of expectance and trepidation in my eyes, knowing that what awaited myself and the girl standing at my left was something not many had experienced. I could still remember the last time I'd seen the old Besalisk. He'd cursed life and the Empire, and laid Dan out like the old man was nothing but a piece of generic flimsiplast. Ain't ever seen Dan look so surprised or angry, but I guess that was par for the course when dealing with Phrexus Krale. And the damned thing about it? Dan had let the raging cyclone of four-armed grit and steel leave. I guess he'd known that it was for the best, even if I'd not known it till years later. A being scarred beyond recognition was one you couldn't really keep around; you had to let the wounds heal, and that was apparently what Phrexus was doing ever since that day.

I still remember he told me he was going to an old home, of sorts. I guess it was home for him, but for me, living on some snow-swept wasteland wasn't exactly 'home'.

I was a backwoods boy, but even I knew that wasn't home for Besalisks. What it was though, was where one of our old overrun bases had been. Long abandoned after the Empire routed our little band and drove us off-world. We lost a lot of boys when that happened, and I guess Phrexus felt more at home with the dead than he did with the living.

Couldn't blame him for that, after what we'd all been through.

I let out a sigh as I felt my lips press together, presently looking down to the girl. Raifaani. What a wisp of a thing. She was tough, but in the same motion I was fairly certain I could send her tumbling if I looked at her angrily enough. She was infuriating, but I guess she was learning, as well. She'd at least been respectful enough for the trip so far for me to invite her to the bridge when we exited hyperspace over what would be our home for the next month.

I'd pooled my collected leave time, and decided to cash a majority of it in for this little 'vacation'.



Behind us, Captain s'Ilancy sat in her chair, and I could hear the faint tick of her fingernails tapping the armrest as she no doubt had buried her eye into a datapad. She'd not been exactly happy, but she'd also not denied my request.



My attentions went fully to Raifa.

"There's no safety net here. We go down there, and we are committed."

Like their previous meeting on Taltimant, Rai'faani wore a fur-lined parka. Of course it was a different parka entirely, as an heiress to the barony rarely let her retinue see her repeat an ensemble in her wardrobe. The voluminous hood was down, revealing platinum hair drawn into a bun at the back of her head. She cut her eyes towards Dage and his warning, replying with nothing but a brow raise as she returned her attention to the white and blue of the planet ahead.

He wasn't going to frighten her off her chosen course of action. Of course she was afraid. Her life was an unbroken cycle of little fears. But in equal measure to fear was intellect and ruthlessness. A Meorrrei learned early how to sheath thought and intent behind courtly charades, fancy, and complex lies. If you showed your blood, it only attracted more knives. Samus Dage had broken into the sanctum of her confidence already, and that trespass was grievous but irreversible. He might hold that glimpse of her fear and insecurity, but she wasn't sharing that with any other being on this bridge - even the formidable Captain Loklorien s'Ilancy. But even thinking that stoked yet another little fear, and the thought of standing exposed to a Jedi who might see her more plainly than she dared allow. Her time with Abarai Loki had already sobered her to the possibility that the Jedi weren't simply benign charlatans with an understanding of practical trickery.

Still, Rai'faani wouldn't outwardly show it. Perhaps the Jedi could squeeze that from her brain like oil from a stonefish liver, but she'd never volunteer it. She would maintain her reputation.

"Commanderr," she at last replied with a slightly-exaggerated patrician tone to her voice, "one dajy, jI wjill be Barronesss. jI won't arrrjive to that moment becausse of half meassurress."

Her head turned to regard him squarely.

"We made an agrreement."

She had admirable resolve, I had to give her that. She also had a limitless wardrobe, it seemed. Nothing really too out of the ordinary I suppose, for someone as intent on showing material wealth. I knew it was what she'd grown up in and around, and to be honest I really hoped that this little trip would begin to wean her off of that dependence. She had to have trust in only one thing - herself. And maybe a few others, but when it came down to the wire? Only one she could trust would be her own insides and whatever she'd made for... and of... herself. I'm not exactly a poetical guy, which is probably a good thing. I'm much better with the old school do-it-yourself ways of bulling through life. And gods have mercy on us, but Orto Plutonia was as much of a crucible as any for Raifa.

I'd not talked to Phrexus since he left, but I'd heard stories from some of the other commandos. Some said he'd gone mad, others that he lived with Force ghosts. I'd never asked the Old Girl about that last one, figuring it would be best to not be 'that guy'. I mean, it's not like a spirit hadn't ever been disproven, right? The Force was nuts, and it made folks do some pretty messed up shit, but hells. Not all of us are meant to be diviners, so we just rely on those that are. To an extent, at least.

And if that mad Besalisk chose to live with leftover fairies and little smoke spirits from way back, then all the more power to him.

I much preferred to be around things that breathed.


But back to Raifa.

She had the beginnings of steel in her spine, I'll give her that.

"We did," I nodded.

For want of anything better to do with my hands, I stuffed them into the front pockets of my duty trousers.

"Gonna stay with an old... friend. Me an' the Captain used to serve with him, 'till he decided to retire. Now he lives in one of the old bases from the Civil War."

I really couldn't help the smirk; it sorta came on without my permission.

"No cooks, bedmakers, or big wardrobes. What you go down there with is what you've got until we're picked up."

He was winding the air for any inkling of hesitation or doubt - indications that, even if present, Rai'faani was determined not to air in this place. So when he baited her with the distinct lack of amenities Orto Plutonia had in store for them, the heiress coolly invited him to dine on ashes.

"Frrom the ssound of jit then, jyourr frrjiend hass chossen a poorr locatjion to rretjirre. At leasst jyou can be cerrtajin jI'll be no worrsse forr wearr on account of the lack of a cook."

She was being brave in the face of it all, and I had to give her props for that. Was I looking for some form of regret? I suppose not, I just wanted her to know exactly what she was getting from me.

Mr. Rahgus' voice cut into the air around us before I had a chance to respond.

"Entering orbital position now, Captain. We'll be ready for shuttle debarkation in five minutes."

From her seat, s'Il looked up from the datapad she'd been reading, letting her gaze take in the serene planetary orb before them on the wide viewscreen. Last time she'd been here, it had been a mad rush to evacuate, shuttles and transports scattering up into space like a myriad of fleeing insects. She'd been on one of them.

And in the back of her mind, she could still hear Dan's words of encouragement, that they'd not really been beaten, and that they would make right the wrongs that'd been done to them all. That they would take their revenge on the Empire for the slaughter endured here.

She let out a long breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Rahgus."

The 'pad was set on the armrest then, and the Lupine rose to her feet. She tugged at the lower hem of her tunic, but made no effort to step any further. Her voice rose however, to address the two standing on the catwalk.

"Whatever it is the two of you hope to find down there," she let her hands rest at her sides for only a moment before moving them, fingers coming together at the small of her back.

Samus had half-turned to face her.

"... I hope that you find it."

She went on.

"Rrou'ani Meorrrei, I wish you luck."

If Captain s'Ilancy was indeed peering past the veil into the middle of her, she at least wasn't making her discovery known. So maybe it was honesty or maybe it was charade, and it didn't matter any more than it would among aristocrats back home. Rai'faani clasped her hands in front of her.

"jI wjill be cerrtajin to let mjy motherr know jyou have been a help to me. We both apprrecjiate ourr frrjiendss, Captajin."

Courtesy that says everything and nothing. Rai'faani bowed her head by the slightest of deferential degrees. She then turned her attention to Dage.

"Afterr jyou, arr'uhaai."

* * *

His shuttle touched down with the barest of whispers on the old, snow-swept landing pad of a forgotten Rebel outpost from at least a lifetime ago. He'd never heard of the place, but then again that wasn't anything to be surprised over. There were probably a host of other places he'd not known about that had at one time or another been 'home' to the old Rebel Alliance. He wouldn't be shocked in the least if at least three quarters of the known planets in the entire galaxy had once housed a cell or two. It really was just one of those things that the Empire had a knack for creating - people that chafed beneath its' bootheel and decided to do something about it.

From the comfort of his pilot's perch, Jeremy feathered the engines so that their landing was as light as possible - a habit he'd picked up from having to ferry about the Captain, and it seemed to carry over into every other transport job he'd been assigned to.

"Looks a bit too cold for me, Commander."

Frankly, Jeremy was more than happy to stay right where he was. Communicating via the internal comm system only meant he wouldn't have to be exposed to the cold when the nose ramp descended.

"Not sure I'd choose the same vacation spot, I gotta say."

Varin was a decent enough guy, for someone who'd once been a TIE pilot. At least, that's all I'd ever been able to get out of the man. I really didn't care too awful much, so long as he did his job and didn't vent folks out into space. Guess that was a healthy concern, when the man who took you down to a planet used to be the same one that wouldn't think twice about shooting you out into vacuum.

Perspective. s'Il always said it was a matter of perspective, and in a way she was right. But, I also didn't have that same sort of extra sense she did, so I was left to operate within my own perimeters. The Force was one of those things that I respected, but I also knew that it made people do things. Things that were wrong. I trusted the Old Girl, but not like I once used to. And I know that it hadn't exactly been the Force that made her into the monster she'd been, but rather... well, I'll be honest. It was Dan.

Now that was a son of a bitch.

Had all of us strung along.

Hells, even the thought of him made me angry, and I could taste a hint of bile in the back of my throat.

Ok, enough thinking about that asshole.

We were landed, and Jeremy was talking. Probably would be good to answer, but in a way this was Raifa's show. It was up to her to answer.

I slowly undid my crashstraps, stretching a bit while rising to stand.

If one could derive temperature from a glance, Orto Plutonia was frigid. Of course it was white with snow and ice, just like Taltimant was. But Taltimant had peaks and valleys, and green spaces that sprung from wind breaks and provided their own cover. Orto Plutonia's frozen landscape was scraped over by a howling bluster that seemed to whip half the ice and snow into the air in a perpetual suspension, bleaching out the features of the world in the distance to formless profiles in cool blue. Rai'faani caught herself in the midst of a psychosomatic shiver in time to play it off in the face of the pilot's commentary. She unbuckled her crash webbing, rolling her shoulders as she stood in a stretch.

"Havjing ssomeone to ssleep next to tendss to take the chjill out of the ajirr."

He chuckled over the intercom, but chose to say nothing in response. He wasn't about to test his luck, no matter how much fun he was certain he'd have with a girl who looked as... bendy... as Ms. Meorrrei. And lords help him his imagination was an active one. Not that it needed much help.

Still though, Commander Dage seemed to take on a certain role with the young woman, and Jeremy wasn't about to test his boundaries.

"Well, all of that aside," it was obvious he wasn't about to leave the comforting warmth of his cockpit any time soon, "... I'm sure the heaters in those old barracks will keep a body warm enough."

I gave a little hrmph, not interested in the direction that Raifa's words tended to track along.

Instead, I focused on ambling my way to the lockers, pulling the nearest one open and jerking out my old groundpounder duffel. I hadn't used it in years; maybe decades? Ever since we got that old Marauder Corvette the need for such things kinda fell to the wayside. Some boys dumped theirs at the nearest depot point, but I kept a hold on mine. Me an' Kori both did. We made a bet once, after drinking two bottles of high-class Rodian bourbon - first one to lose theirs had to buy the other a lady-friend for a week. We never got to finish it, since... well... you know.

Just another thing that that rat-bastard Dan had ruined.

Though I guess in the end - maybe even from the grave - Kori had done made sure I was on that stop to Jovan. Made sure I was good and hungry when I ran into T'yeellaa. Talk about doing your best friend a solid. And from beyond the grave, too.

The locker was slammed shut; old habits.

"Try not to bed every swinging dick that comes across your way," I couldn't help but grumble in her direction.

"Because frankly, you should be more worried about the cold making your nipples fall off than what you can get twixt those legs of yours."

"Oh, do rrelax," Rai droned as she tugged her own luggage free from the stowage for possibly the first time in her life, "jI thjink jI can manage a few dajyss jin the tundrra wjithout havjing to rrjide ssomethjing prrettjy."

But just to twist the knife, she glanced over her shoulder with perked ears.

"Although, thjiss wjill be ourr ssecond rretrreat togetherr. Majybe jI'll lajy jyou down on a wampa-sskjin rrug bjy the fjirre...afterr jI kjill jit wjith mjy barre handss, of courrsse."

"And ruin that fancy nail paint you got going on there?"

I made a half-gesture at her while slinging my duffel up onto my shoulders.

Varin was mindful enough to begin the process of lowering the nose-ramp, and I slowly trekked the short distance to stand patiently at the apex. No reason to rush the experience of feeling the cold here.

"How about we make sure that our berth is livable first, eh?"

He'd gotten the message a few days prior.

He hated messages. He hated outside contact.

But, this had been from Samus, and grudgingly he'd suffered through the missive.

Help some spoiled rich girl learn how to live on her own. Help her to survive. Help her to learn how to kill. To live her own life, he surmised from his own interpretation. He'd grunted to the empty air around him at the time - Krags and Sykes gone for the afternoon. Something about gathering supplies. He'd not asked, and they'd not said anything beyond their intentions. Besides - what was he going to do... stop them? They did just as he did - exactly whatever they wanted.

The old base had been cleaned up for the most part, the barracks ordered and made livable. The old rec room wasn't too much, seeing as how it was a bitch to get good reception out here. Standard Holonet channels only. The old Warstocks room was still there, refilled from his own dime. No one really asked questions, which was good. He'd even made sure to take care of a few potted plants; not the same as the damn plants that Dan's one-eyed wolf-witch insisted on having about, but plants regardless. Made it seem more homey and... and right.

Crazy Jedi and their crazy needs.

Krags hated the plants, and Sykes hated the countless clocks on the back of the main entry foyer's back wall. Something about how knowing the times of most of the important galactic time zones was maddening. It was always an exercise to maintain the peace.

At least with Krags and Sykes it was relatively normal fare. Nanti... well hells. Nanti just hated everything. And it was a deep hate; an evil hate. A thing that Phrexus had to wonder was rooted in the Dark Side. He was fairly certain that Nanti had no idea about connecting the Force - let alone the Dark Side of it. Still though, it sometimes made the old Besalisk wonder. Some of the things that he'd seen Nanti do...



In the late afternoon, standing at the yawning doorway of his home's hangar, Phrexus Krale felt himself frowning. Guests weren't really his thing, but Samus had asked. Asked nicely.

Wrapped in a layered taun-taun pelt, the Besalisk watched as the nu-class shuttle settled itself onto the outside tarmac.

Moments later, the nose was lowering, and Phrexus let his scowl deepen.

The view had only hinted to the reality, and Rai's breath escaped her lips at the first blast of icy chill in the wind. Goddess, this was cold. The heiress resisted the urge to hug her arms around her middle, but her hands certainly clenched into fists and retreated slightly into the oversized fur-lined sleeves of her parka. She curled her tail close around her waist, taking effort to tuck it under the jacket's hemline for a degree of protection.

Sure, she'd probably felt this cold before on Taltimant, but back at the lodge, a fire and a cup of mocoa was an hour away - or two hours tops. Likely no such luck here, and Rai's tempered pride wasn't about to ask for it and give Samus an ounce of leverage on her. Of course, he was loping forward in the gale on his long legs, leaving her several strides behind. Rai quickly made up the distance, chopping her feet in short, quick steps until she stood abreast.

Ahead, she spotted a figure half-obscured by the wintry haze of blowing snow. Even from this distance, she could tell that Dage's friend wasn't humanoid, and didn't appear to be all that easy on the eyes. She choked up her grip on the straps of her rucksack, shifting the weight with a steamy grunt.

The two figures drew closer, and Phrexus made out the familiar body shape of Samus Dage. The tall, lanky Myomarian was a decent fighter when it came down to it, and he'd been proud to serve alongside the man. He also remembered Kori, and how the two Myomarians had been as constant as the twin suns of Tatooine. Shame about Marlon. Samus had sent a comm, explaining what'd happened, but not really going into too much detail. Didn't really need to, when it came down to death.

The second body coming near was one he didn't recognize, and his eyes narrowed to slits as he felt one of his hands ball up into a tight fist, still in the warm confines of the pockets that he'd stuffed all four hands into.

His hood was padded on the inside with wampa hide, the white fur lining his face, and Phrexus let out a grunt as the two came close enough to hear.

"Didn't think you'd actually show," came the growled words.

He half-turned, gesturing with a nodded head to the interior of the mostly-empty bay. Two CUC-S's* were parked, one of them held aloft by two three-ton lift winches, the repulser coils having been pulled out and laid out directly beneath it. A bank of aging toolboxes ran along the far wall, along with workbenches and a smattering of tools that he'd not put away. In the back corner rested an old TX-225 GAVw 'Occupier' combat assault tank that had certainly seen better days. A pair of CK-6 swoop bikes sat dormant beside the tank, their hulls battered, but it was easy to tell that they were serviceable and often used.

"Go in."















*Commercial Utility Cargo Speeder

Didn't think you'd actually show.

The comment annoyed the heiress, who cut her eyes towards Samus. He'd surely been the genesis of it, passing an undeserved reputation to this gruff-faced alien about her level of commitment. From Samus, it would have simply been the usual frontierish sass, but Rai bristled at the way this newcomer discounted her.

There wasn't any time to rectify it, however. Not to her liking, at any rate. The besalisk ushered them into the camp, leaving Rai with nothing to chew on but the gristle of her wounded ego. She'd find time to set this creature right, but then again, she wasn't here to salvage her own maligned feelings. There was work to be done, and she was serious about doing it.

In a rare moment of misinterpretation, Samus took her side-eye as the opposite of what she'd intended.

They passed into the bay area, following Phrexus past the vehicles he had stored.

"I told him I'd visit for his birthing day," his own ruck was hitched up a little higher on his shoulder, a free hand moving to unclasp the top button of his cold-weather jacket.

They stepped through an open doorway into a dimly lit corridor, the Besalisk still in the lead.

"... and I... well," a helpless shrug, "...I forgot."

Phrexus gave a throaty growl, continuing forward.

"No-good Myomarian," he grumbled in confirmation, "... didn't even send a card. I thought you backwoods sorts excelled in those old rituals."

He led the way through another door, this one leading them all into a stairwell that went down.

"Guess I was wrong."

"jI djidn't rrealjize jI'd be sspendjing mjy tjime wjith an old mated couple," Rai droned, glancing to each of her escorts with an unimpressed flattening of her ears.

"Pleasse ssparre me the warr ssstorrjiess of the tjime when jyou ssharred a foxhole and jit wass too cold to be alone. jI've rread that one, and jit wass trrasshjy the fjirrsst tjime."

Heading downward, Phrexus only offered a grunt. Two of his hands moved up to begin unfastening the hasps of his overcloak as he walked, a gait that demanding a body keep up.

"Ain't that way, girl."

He pushed through another door, this one leading into another corridor, though now the temperature had considerably warmed and his outer layer was pulled completely off to reveal a surprisingly chiseled form; rather than the normal gut that those of his species developed in their old age, Phrexus Krale had maintained a trim, fighting figure. His aged BDU's clothed a solid rock of a body.

"I'd recommend you start reading better novels if that's the sort of chatter you intend on starting out with."

"jI don't carre forr novelss, rrealljy." Rai coolly deflected, drawing her parka back to shake her hair free. It was utilitarian movement, and she quickly pushed her shoulder-length locks behind her ears.

"jI'm morre jinterressted jin prractjical rreadjing, and otherr prractjical thjingss. jI'm ssurre Ssamuss hass gjiven jyou the detajilss alrreadjy."

She glanced to the human, interested in exactly what measure he'd seasoned his explanation to the Besalisk. She still didn't fully understand his reluctance to handle her training himself.

"I said you wanted to learn how to take care of yourself," he spoke up, shedding his own thick overcoat.

As the hallway ended in yet another door, he went on.

"No need for flowery existential silliness."

Letting the coat slide from his shoulders, Samus stepped out into an open receiving area as he draped the outer clothing layer over one arm. To the left stood a pair of double doors, and to the right was a familiar wall that separated the common area from what had once been an old rec area that'd doubled as a mess hall. He remembered well enough the layout of the old base; one floor up was another level of barracks, and 'toyland', the old term they'd come to use whenever talking about the armory. A level below was where the heavy munitions had been kept, as well as the old warfighter tunnels. Those led to a buried motor pool that'd been blown to pieces during their evacuation.

He doubted that even Phrexus had the patience to dig it out of the snow after so long.

"He knows you're not here for a vacation," he further confirmed.

Samus was digging a hole for himself with his words. Flowery existential silliness? She hadn't a notion what he was on about, and it wouldn't do any good to take a swipe at the bait. Instead, she soldiered on with her ruck, opting to keep her parka on her shoulders if only because it would be more cumbersome to carry her luggage otherwise. Still, the weight of the pack was more than she was used to. The Heiress grunted, shifting the bulk again over her shoulder.

"Well, that'ss cerrtajinljy not the casse. jI don't rrememberr the lasst tjime that jI carrrjied mjy own luggage."

She paused with the others, taking a glance at the multiple doors at the corridor intersection.

"What jiss thjiss place, anjywajy?"

"An old place," Phrexus grunted the short answer.

He bulled through the doors to the rec room, heavy metal slabs that had durracrete and gavra-lead cores. They could withstand a thermal detonator, and had on at least one occasion. Inside the spacious room, a pair of tables had been set up, and a few old sofa sets lined one of the far walls. They were simple pieces of furniture, their upholstery faded in spots and worn smooth in others from years of use. A hutch to the right, an old weapons locker to the left; each one scuffed and scratched. There was a heavy-duty coat rack beside the locker, which the Besalisk now hung his hide overcloak on.

"Leave your gear by the door," he went on, voice full of grit and gravel.

A sectioned off corner, in the back of the room, had been turned into a kitchen of sorts. An upright cooler unit, polished metal countertops, an industrial-sized gas oven... everything a body needed to prepare at least the basic essentials of a meal. It was this area that he tromped into now. A sliding pantry door was opened, and three boxes were pulled down from one of the shelves.

"We can get to your rooms later. Right now it's lunch."

One of the boxes, an Alliance-issued MRE, was tossed onto the counter. The second, he held up for the girl to see.

"Is Cizerack," he intoned, making sure to hold the box in such a way that she could see the glyphs of her native tongue.

"Kaalowai Ala Queen," and without ceremony that box too was dropped to the counter.

"Eat."

Rai'faani unburdened her shoulder of the ruck she carried, taking a brief moment to massage the spot the strap had rested on before she shook out of her parka. The ruck was tipped against the wall where instructed, and she hung her coat on the little space afforded by the space-hogging Besalisk clothing item.

Phrexus returned with his parcels, and the Heiress inspected the Kaalowai Ala Queen with skepticism before taking a seat. She knew that military rations existed in about the same way that she knew quasars existed - purely on a secondhand basis. Most starships carried them in the event of an emergency to provide in the event that fresh or live food was unavailable. That was the extent of her knowledge. Therefore, it was a rude awakening when Rai carefully clawed away the flimsplast cover on one of the food cartons, revealing a form-pressed bolus of protein slicked with oily residue. She took a careful sniff, and immediately withdrew a few inches to safe distance, fixing the dreadful concoction before her with a look of metered disgust.

"jI'm not hungrrjy."

Which was a lie, but a conditional one. She could certainly eat, but under no circumstance would she eat whatever this was.

His own gear stowed for the time being, Samus sauntered his way to the counter, palming the unopened box of barely-food. It sure wasn't Idiri's cooking, but it would do. It was fuel, nothing more nothing less. And while he'd become somewhat spoiled on the Kaleesh woman's cooking, he also knew when vacuum-packed - he gave a quick look to the aurebesh - Zuunbury Steak, was a necessary evil.

Sitting down heavily at the table next to Raifa, he tore open his own box. Out came the 'steak', followed by a mint, tuber-wafers, a stick of gum, a packet of sugar-preserved namana chunks, and a small pouch of 'sauce'.

"Best eat anyway," he tried to encourage.

"Out here, your body is a machine, and food is the fuel for that machine. These things -" he tore open the plastic holding the wafers, breaking them into quarters before popping one into his mouth and moving on to the fruit.

"- they're not great, but they'll keep you alive."

For his own part, Phrexus pulled apart his own packed lunch. For himself, he didn't really care what he ended up with. It was all necessary and filled his stomach; it put energy to his muscles and kept him moving. The cardboard was pulled away to reveal a sealed bit of plastic pouch containing what was supposed to be the main meal. Nuna chili with rice and tuber paste. The sides were a small buiberry and nut bar, a stick of chewing gum, a mint, and air crackers. The gum he saved for Nanti, though the ingrate never seemed to want it, and so the bowl on the counter beside the cooling unit had grown full-to-overflowing. Hells, he'd even thrown a few of the offending sticks away since there wasn't much room left in Nanti's gum bowl.

At Samus' explanation he gave a customary grunt, and a single nod of his head that turned into a rolling motion, cracking the bones of his neck in the process.

"Can't afford fine dining when you're out here, Girl."

A fingertip tore open the chili packet, and he shoved a thin metal spoon into its' unseen depths. stirring.

"Maybe tonight you can go out and get yourself some wild animal to feast on, but if you don't eat now, you won't make it back from that hunting trip."

He spooned out a measure of chili slop with a single, rather small chunk of nuna, not even staring at it before shoving it into his mouth. It went down quickly, and another spoonful was shoveled into his maw. The third spoonful was dispatched in much the same way, but the fourth was pulled up and out, and held it at eye level. His gaze focusing on her.

"Fuel."

It disappeared like the rest, and he sent his full attentions to his lunch, his last word a repeated rumble of his previous instruction.

"Eat."

The heiress pressed her lips into a thin line, drifting her eyes from Phrexus back to the embalmed thing stewing in the carton in front of her. There was no amount of digging heels that would get her out of this. Worse still, they both were right. This wasn't a vacation, and she'd come here for a reason. She'd be damned if she left this frozen waste with her tail between her legs on account of going hungry.

Still, there was confronting that truth, and then there was eating it. Rai figured that the more she spent dreading the moment, the worse it would be, so she snatched up the vacuum-formed cutlet and snapped a brusque bite into it. Immediately, she felt a strong urge to spit her mouthful back into the carton. The protein was salty and mealy, seeming to turn to wet sawdust with every chew. Her jaw tensed, and her eyes watered. Rai took a heavy gulp to finally heave it down, and swished down half of a water bottle to chase it. Her eyes averted both Samus and Phrexus, and she simply worked in silence, forcing another mouthful under duress and repeating the ritual again and again.

With one hand wrapped protectively around his own meal, the blonde tore into his 'steak with the vigor of a starved man. Old habits died hard, and mealtime in a place with so many memories attached to it seemed to bring out a bit more of the primal instincts bred by so many years of being in the Rebellion. He guarded his food, all while relentlessly shoveling it into his mouth at a concerning speed.

The sauce packet looked as though it'd been torn into pieces before its' contents had been smeared on the main entree.

Quick, darting eyes spied a small pack of unopened freeze-dried spicy wei'aashi peas that Raifa had dug out of her own box, and quick as a whipsnake he reached out. Greedy fingers snatched it up and away, only to deposit the packet within the safety of his sentinel-like arm. He'd had the little things once when he and T'yeellaa had gone out for dinner, and they'd actually been quite tasty. Of course he was certain that the military touch had made them a bit less than appetizing, but he wanted to give them a try anyway.

He swallowed the last of his 'steak' and oozing sauce, let out a slight hiccup, then set into the peas as though they'd been his all along.

The dinner table thievery elicited an immediate response as Rai'faani draped a sauce-grubby hand over Samus's wrist. Her claws extended to the point of being felt, but not so far as to break skin. With the back of her free hand, the heiress wiped her lips clean.

"Thosse arre mjine."

It had ceased to matter how abominable the food was. Rai'faani was sure that ration-grade wei'aashi was as execrable as the entree, but it was now about fundamentals and boundaries. She wasn't going to let Dage cross over hers without pushback.

A snort, and Samus shook his hand free before popping one of the peas into his mouth.

"Guard your food," he said simply, "... or else it'll get stolen."

Still his free arm remained around his small amount of boxed food, and reaching over with his other, he shoved Raifa further away down the length of the bench seating.

"Remember that next time."

The moment Samus pushed her, something white-hot snapped in Rai's chest. She clamped down fully with her opposite hand over the one Samus used to shove her along. This time her claws definitely bit. Rai's eyes were cobalt fire, and she could feel heat surging in the tips of her ears as she squeezed Samus's hand with all her might.

"Gjive. Them. Back."

If he was surprised at her reaction, he certainly didn't show it. In fact, there wasn't even an eye twitch when her claws came into play. Maybe it was the fact that his tolerance had grown since his time with T'yeellaa? Either way, he gave not an inch in the face of her order.

A harsh laugh sounded out as he watched the two, and the Besalisk skirted around the counter edge, his chili finished. One half of the buiberry nut bar had disappeared behind his teeth, the other half still held in hand.

"Best get used to thieves when it comes to chow time, Girl."

Moving to sit on the opposite side of the Cizerack, Phrexus let his bulk rock the bench, creaking protests from the aged metal and wood construction following his settling weight. One of his arms snaked around her back to roughly grab the bag of peas from Samus' hand, and he jerked them away before dropping them in front of her. Samus didn't really protest, only giving a shrug as he was still held in her no doubt prickly grasp.

"Arms around your food," a hand gripped one of her wrists and guided it around the scattered bits of her box, "... like this."

The rest of the nut bar was popped into his mouth, and he didn't even swallow before going on.

"Eat fast, and protect what's yours."

The hard-eyed stare remained on Samus for a moment longer, then Rai relented. Her claws withdrew into fingertips as she released her hold on his hand. She pecked out a handful of peas from the sachet with her bloodied fingers, pushing them through her lips without ceremony and with just enough pause to chew and swallow. She manned the ramparts as she ate and swigged water. When she perceived Samus drifting too close again, her tail swatted him across the back.

Another rumble of amused laughter, as Phrexus leaned back slightly to give a harder shove to Samus, roughly pushing him further away from the Girl.

"She's wise to you, Myomarian," he angled his head to elicit an audible crack from his neck.

"Quick study, this one. Quicker than the one-eyed wolf woman, even."

A crashing came from the floor above, followed by drifting laughter and a clatter of footfalls that faded into the distance. Ignoring the sound, Phrexus huffed out a breath from his nose as his features shifted into a sideways look at the Cizerack. He gave an uncharacteristic wink

"That one... I had to bloody her nose and black her eye before she learned."

Now it was Phrexus who caught a wary gaze. Rai drank eagerly the last gulps of water in her bottle to push the last glue-like bolus of rations down her throat and hopefully banish the offensive aftertaste. The only thing that broke her attention were the sounds from above. Sensitive Cizeri ears twitched and triangulated upwards, followed a moment later by eyes tracking the sound to the tiles above. The noise subsided, and the heiress returned her attention to the besalisk as her ears lowered towards him.

"jI thought we werre to be alone. Who jiss above uss?"

He grunted a partial-answer, letting his gaze track back to the countertop and his mug of water.

"Sykes most likely."

A hand came up to wave away the admission.

"You won't see her, probably. She's one of those private types. Too much time in the field; doesn't trust anyone really."

"But Sykes- "

His eyes snapped back to Samus, who was now staring at him with a healthy amount of incredulous worry. It was a hard look, allowing no argument.

"She's here, just shy."

The bit of cracker that he still held, halfway to his mouth, seemed to lower by a fraction.

Locked in a stare with the Besalisk, Samus couldn't help the beginnings of a deepset frown. His eyes searched for any note of wavering sanity, but there was none in the serious visage of Phrexus' features.

The cracker was laid to rest on the table.

Kasara Sykes had died during the Malastare offensive.

Fifteen or so years ago.

There was still a sheen of sauce left behind in Rai's carton, but she'd suffered enough. She pushed the container away towards the middle of the table as she observed the interplay between Samus and the besalisk. There was something being left unsaid here, but she couldn't make sense of what that might be.

"Ssjykess jissn't the onljy one herre who valuess thejirr prrjivacjy. Wherre arre mjy quarrterrss?"

For another moment longer he held Samus' gaze, his own eyes hard and unwavering. A moment later he pushed away from the table, lumbering up to his feet.

"Yes."

He waved away the remnants of lunch, the motion shifting into a gesture for the two to follow him as his long strides took him across the rec room, to the doors.

"This way."

There was of course more that he wanted to say, but Phrexus had moved on, and Samus only let out a string of unintelligible grumblings as he too rose. Each small packet and pouch was stuffed unceremoniously into the main box, which was taken up without a second though. A refuse bin sat beside the counter, and he tossed the garbage inside before following the Besalisk.

His previous light-hearted attitude had significantly soured, and taking up his ruck, the rangy blonde grabbed Raifa' as well, his mind clearly not on his actions.

He let Phrexus lead the way out, across the open common area, and through the double doors on the far side. Another corridor stretched out in front of them. He knew well enough that each door down the way led into small bunk rooms, but it was up to their host which ones they would be staying in.

Rai's eyes cut sideways as Samus drew up alongside her.

"jI can take that."

Clearly something heavy was on the human's mind, otherwise he would never have shouldered her luggage like he was some Calanic catamite. It all pointed to the last bit of awkward conversation revolving around Sykes. The heiress placed her hand on the luggage strap, and withdrew it the moment she felt unexpected dampness and tackiness. She turned her hand over to find her fingers were wet with red.

"Quentjin Ssamuss, jyou'rre bleedjing on mjy bag. Sstop. Gjive jit to me."

Her voice and its' distinctly perturbed tone pierced through the fog of his previous thoughts, and Samus blinked. He looked over and down, at her efforts to take back her ruck, and the slick covering of red blood that was now covering a portion of the strap.

"Oh... "

Another blink, as Phrexus ground to a halt, one meaty hand going out to turn the doorknob of the second door they'd come to.

The blonde used the moment to let Raifa take back what was her.

"Sorry."

His hand now free, he gave it a shake, as if by doing so he'd rid himself of the red sheen smeared over his wrist and fingers.

"One of you in here," Phrexus gave a passing gesture to the now-open doorway, then turned to send another hand out, pointing to the door across the hall.

"... the other in there."

"Arr'u fjirrsst." Rai deferred in a sliver of courtly etiquette, gesturing from Samus to the first door. She took no further notice of the stained condition of her ruck, instead pointedly making eye contact with the human in another attempt to glean some meaning in his unease.

When none could be found, the heiress took two steps back toward Phrexus, then followed his second gesture to the door across the hall. She paused, looking back at Samus again, before keying her door open and passing through the threshold.

He'd not even really acknowledged her sudden propensity for niceness. She'd demanded he take the first room presented, and he had. Did it really matter? Perhaps? In the back of his mind there was a small voice that said her deference was uncharacteristic, yet the very much larger voice that drowned it out was screaming at him. That he had misjudged the old Besalisk; had made a grave tactical error in judgement.

That larger voice was now pounding in his head like a hammer, telling him that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. He'd brought himself and T'yeellaa's sister to the home of an old soldier driven mad by years in battle.

Dropping his ruck, Samus scowled deeply, moving to the lockers and opening the second one up. It had a full set of cold-weather gear; boots, pants, and a jacket. A sowmask hung from the top, waiting to be pulled off its' hook and slapped onto the face of the dumbest 'cruit duped into the old 'rakku hunt' prank.

He closed it back up, then turned to Phrexus, a hard glint in his eye.

The Girl had gone into the opposite room, and Phrexus took a step inside, closer to Samus. He continued on, bulling past the blonde with a rough shoulder.

"Ain't dumb," Samus," he growled low so that none but the two in the room could hear.

"I know when Sykes went. I know she took a bolt through her neck, and that she was dead before she hit the ground."

The Besalisk still felt responsible for the loss of his friends' life, and the pain was an underscore to the sidelong look he now sent the lanky blonde Myomarian.

"Got me a Jakobeast. Keep her upstairs, named her Sykes."

He halfway sat on the sturdy metal desk that was on the sidewall, one pair of arms rising to cross over his chest. His chin lifted, exposing the top of a scar that - while old - was no less terrible looking than the few days after he'd gotten it.

"Still got my sanity, if that's what you're concerned over."

A still-cautious look was sent to Phrexus, and Samus picked his ruck back up, only to shift it over to fall onto the available bunk. It was a thin mattress, made up with clean sheets and two woolen blankets with another two folded neatly at the foot of the bed. The pillow sat atop those, and with a grunt that signaled he had heard the words spoken, he roughly undid the wide leather straps before pulling on the zipper.

"Those things aren't exactly ideal pets, you lunatic."

The old commando only gave a shrug that spoke volumes about how much he cared for Samus' assessment, and to his credit the blonde reigned himself in enough to not start throwing punches. Phrexus Krale had a well-earned reputation for breaking arms, bloodying noses, and just generally turning those who picked fights with him into sad sacks of sobbing messes.

Instead, he settled for falling back to old habits and half-growled words.

"You got the whiskey in the usual places?"

He knew what Samus was thinking, and what made him stop from lifting a hand. It was enough to make him grin, lips pulling back to expose his teeth.

At the question, Phrexus let a hand drop, his waist bending slightly as he tapped the bottom drawer of the desk. It slid open at his touch to reveal four bottles of the cheapest, bottom-shelf whiskey - two bottles of Old Ithorian, and two bottles of Fighting Mynock.

"I keep the good stuff locked up, so you can put to bed any notions of stealing my Palpy Van Wrinkle."

A long breath was let out then, and he pushed away from the desk.

"Get settled. If you need me," he started for the door, heavy footfalls signalling his departure.

"... I'll be in the bay working on my tank."

A few minutes after Phrexus left, a soft knock sounded on Samus's door. Rai leaned halfway against the frame, waiting for the human to respond.

Sat at the desk, Samus had liberated one of the bottles of Old Ithorian. He'd made it as far as unscrewing the cap and taking a single, first pull when the knock sounded. He swallowed, feeling the angry fire that blazed an unforgiving trail down his throat.

"It's open," he coughed slightly, setting the bottle back down while leaning back in the simple wood and metal chair.

Everything here was as it had been all those years ago, and he couldn't help the blanket of nostalgia that he now wrapped himself comfortably in. All he needed now was an old pack of unfiltered Rebel Strikes and a lingering bout of snow-cough.

Rai entered the room holding a small medical kit. She turned it over in her hands, as if considering what to do, before tossing it to Samus.

"Herre."

One hand let go of the bottle's neck to rise up, fingers closing around the small medkit she tossed to him.

It was brought down into his lap with little fanfare, and he looked at it momentarily before his hand abandoned it in favor of the bottle.

A grunted 'thanks' was her only answer, and he took another swig. Wiping his mouth with a swipe of his sleeve, he finally angled his eyes to look at her.

There was a sigh, and he once more focused on her 'gift', shifting it up and onto the desk. A nimble flick unlocked the hasp, and the hardcase flipped open to reveal the standard fare; a handful of individual kolto packets, some gauze, individually packaged alcohol pads, a small bottle of disinfectant, adhesive patches, a small sewing kit for stitches, a small plastic baggie full of cotton balls and cotton swabs, extra dressings, eye wash, and plastic gloves. It was all standard.

"A surprising show of thoughtfulness," he acknowledged as he began to dig into the case's contents.

"jI don't want jit gettjing jinfected." She explained herself plainly, ears pushing down to a neutral angle. Her weight rocked from heels to toes before her tail switched.

"jIt'ss about ssurrvjival, rrjight?"

"That it is."

His grumbled words were pushed out as he pulled out a few slim packets of kolto, some alcohol rub, and a thin gauze pad.

He gave a nod to the opened bottle.

"Drink's on me, if you want it. It isn't the best; hell, it's about the worst thing I've ever had, but it will keep your belly warm."

His attentions returned to the task at hand then, and tearing open the small alcohol pad packaging, pulled the wisp of rubbing wipe out. A half-second later and he was scrubbing at the red mess that made up his hand.

She deferred with a wave of her hand.

"No thank you."

There wasn't a point to be proved here. She was hardly a temperate person, but she was ruthless enough to know when sobriety benefited her.

"Arre jyou gojing to tell me what'ss gojing on?"

Simple and direct. Spoken without force or implication. Again, Rai'faani projected little emotion to spice her words.

Wiping away the blood, Samus moved on to the kolto, and he twisted open one of the thin packets with ease before squeezing out a small bit onto his wrist.

"Right now? Not much."

He frowned at the sensation that cream was causing as it mingled into the small puncture spots. It wasn't enough to make him grumble, but rather more of an annoying sting that sent bursts of quick pain through his nerves.

"I don't really recommend going exploring upstairs though. Seems our host has taken it upon himself to adopt a jakobeast."

The packet was dropped to the desk.

"Named it after a dead friend."

Rai had no idea what a jakobeast was, but the way Samus framed it, it didn't sound friendly. But that was secondary. Her nostrils flared slightly in the half-admission.

"Sso that explajinss Ssjykess."

What it didn't explain was that something here had caught Samus by surprise.

"Ourr hosst jiss a pssychopath. That wassn't parrt of jyourr plan, wass jit?"

Her estimation of their circumstances here now was not exactly in keeping with his own, but only by virtue of his past experiences with Krale. He didn't figure the old commando for a psychopath, only someone that had been on his own for a bit longer than was safe.

"Not a psychopath, no. His judgement is peculiar, though."

He reached for the bandage wrap.

"He won't let us die, if that's what you're thinking. I still trust that old soldier with my life; he's saved it on more than one occasion."

The plastic wrapping over the roll was torn away.

"As for my plan, I'm not too worried over it. Having a jakobeast up above wasn't expected, but I trust Phrexus to keep it handled. Naming the damn thing after an old, dead friend was surprising, but in the grand scheme of things I can't blame him. Sometimes those old times and those old friends are comforting."

If that was the justification, it barely budged on Rai's sensibilities. Her ears flipped up, as if she was trying to triangulate the next outburst from Sykes.

"Sso then merreljy loneljy to the pojint of delussjional."

A sordid thought crossed her mind, and she looked to Dage with a distasteful sneer.

"He'ss not taken to fuckjing ljivesstock, hass he? jI mean, bessaljisskss arre hjideouss, but ssurreljy he could do betterr."

She shivered at the thought, which turned to a shiver of genuine cold. Rai massaged her arms with her hands.

"Whateverr jit takess to sstajy warrm."

Samus rolled his eyes.

"He may be blaster-rattled in the head, but he's not going to go off and plug a hole that he has no business messing with."

Slowly he began to wind the elastic wrap around his wrist.

"Whatever you might think about him, he's lived as long as he has because he knew what he could do, and took the chances he needed to take when he wasn't sure that he could do a thing. But, that doesn't mean you should look at that as being foolhardy. A bunch of us are still here because we took those same chances, and knew the risks involved. We'd made our peace with death, and came out ahead. Some continued on serving, others - like him - decided it was best to leave. Nothing dishonorable about that sort of decision."

There was a pause, and he looked up to her while pausing his motions to reach for the bottle and take another plug.

"None of us go soft, we just know when it's best to step away."

She could never quite tell when Dage seemed poised to launch into a war story she had no interest hearing. Fortunately, he kept the platitude here brief. Rai skirted the periphery, eventually taking a seat on Dage's cot with enough distance between them to maintain a veneer of decorum.

"jYou trrusst hjim. jI don't. Therre'ss nothjing perrssonal jin ssajyjing jit. jI wass taught frrom a jyoung age to evaluate rrjissk and charracterr. jIf jI can't rreljy on that jinsstjinct, jI'll be usselesss asss a rrou'fai."

Her voice was metered and even in its pacing, with traces of her blue-blooded affectation. She glanced to Samus.

"jI'm ssleepjing jin herre tonjight. Wjith jyou."

That gave him pause, and Samus shifted in his seat, sliding so that he sat sideways with one arm draped over the chair's back.

"I think not."

He didn't glare daggers at her, rather his expression held an even keel.

"You've got a perfectly good bunk, your own personal space, and privacy. That old scaly bastard won't do anything to you while you sleep, if that's what you're afraid of."

He had to wonder if that was truly the case, or if she was simply trying to poke in under his skin. Her own features betrayed nothing, and the blonde finally allowed himself to give her a strange sort of look; one of soured namanas mixed with understanding and encouragement.

"As long as you're in this old base, and well - so long as you don't go upstairs, you're perfectly safe."

"jYou can have the mattrresss, jI'll ssleep jin the corrnerr jif jI musst, jI don't carre."

She wasn't going to be brushed aside on this. Eventually he was going to have to start taking her seriously.

"jI have a bad feeljing about thjiss, how about jyou ljissten to me forr once!"

Her voice raised on the edge of the sentence, which seemed to surprise Rai'faani. She made a tactical withdrawal, focusing on kneading her cold hands.

"Therre'ss no harrm jin jit. jI'll go rrjight to ssleep. jYou won't even know jI'm herre."

For a few moments he sat in silence, eyes boring into her as he thought over the words that she'd spoken. So long as she didn't try any funny business, he supposed that there was no real harm in letting her stay. Finally, he relented.

"If that's what you want," he rumbled while rising to stand.

"But there's no need to sleep on the floor," hells if he was actually going to give up his bunk; not when they could easily enough be dragged to wherever one wanted them to be.

With a gesture that she follow, Samus set his jaw.

"Let's go get your mattress. We'll just drag it in here; they're made to be able to move around without too much trouble, so putting it in here won't be a bother."

The glow of relief was almost warming, and Rai rose at once to head to her quarters, before Samus might dawdle and change his mind. She half slid her mattress off her frame by the time he caught up with her.

"Thank jyou."

It was said mostly to fill out an awkward silence, but it wasn't entirely disingenuous. Rai made eye contact with Samus as he carried his end.

"Perrhapss jyou arren't ssuch a brrute afterr all."

"High praise," came the chuckled answer as he finished helping her move the mattress into his own room.

"I do try to be a nice person every so often."

Moving the mattress into his room was easy enough with the both of them working together, and situating it into a corner along the back wall, Samus gave a look to the still-open doorway.

"Best get your things, I suppose."

He'd let her gather her own belongings, as the desire to sit back down and enjoy a few more pulls from his bottom shelf liquor was great. He sighed, lowering himself to sit once more in the aged wooden and metal chair.

She didn't spend long dawdling in gathering her rucksack, and Rai'faani was back in Samus's room promptly. She rolled out the fitted sheet and began haphazardly drawing it over the mattress. It was learning by doing. A few frustrated attempts, and Rai eventually overlapped all four corners. She draped the sheet and blanket around her svelte figure, and slid onto her makeshift bed, fidgeting to find a position resembling a resting state. She watched Samus watching her, as he sat contentedly nursing the bottle.

"jYou sseem to be enjojyjing jyourrsself." She grunted in between trying to fluff up her flat pillow.

"I'm trying to relax," he grunted in answer, and with a sigh let his head fall back to stare at the paneled ceiling. It was early evening, and he couldn't exactly blame Raifa for wishing to call it a night. Except, he wasn't exactly ready to do the same. There was a strange sort of restlessness that plagued him.

Beyond the bandaged wrist, beyond the jakobeast above them.

It was memories.

"Last time I was here, things weren't exactly in the shape they are now. And it certainly wasn't as... peaceful."

A scurrying of scratching claws reached his ears from up above, heavy, padding footfalls echoing into the distance.

"Weren't anything like that," he gestured over their heads, bottle still in hand.

"No. It was more of the concussive variety. Lots of blasterfire and detonators involved."

Samus's invocation scratched its way under Rai'fa's skin, and the Heiress shifted uncomfortably as she stared at a fixed spot in the ceiling. The mere mention of blasters and detonations brought an easy and uncomfortably clear recollection of the tinny report of droideka cannons and battle droid blasters. That feeling of mortality and frailty pushed onto the head of a pin quickened her heartbeat. It was very easy to feel like she was in the moment again. Scared, vulnerable, and cornered.

Now it was Rai who felt like she needed to relax. She'd written herself into a corner, however. Pride wouldn't suffer a crutch here, and she wasn't going to look for sleep through a bottle. Not tonight, at least. She wet her lips by pressing her tongue briefly between them.

"Sso that'ss how jyou rrelax jin the face of memorrjiess, then?"

She sighed.

"What elsse do jyou have?"

He admired her restraint, and thought over her question. He was comfortable with bad liquor, but that was him and not her.

"I have stories," he finally offered, still looking upward.

"Sstorrjiess?" She replied with exasperation. Rai propped up on an elbow, sitting up enough to look at her roommate.

"Ssamuss, how arre warr sstorrjiess gojing to help me ssleep? jI can sstjill hearr thosse blassterrss clearrljy jif jI even thjink about Jovan, and...jyeah...jI've been thjinkjing about jit lateljy. A lot."

Her expression darkened, and Rai averted her eyes back to the floor.

"jIt doessn't go awajy, doess jit?"

She looked back.

"jI can't prretend jit doess."

"Stories help those feelings go away, even if for a little bit," he soothed, taking another plug from his bottle.

"Not everything is about the war, or some terrible tragedy, you know."

A long, drawn-out sigh, and the blonde let his gaze fall back down to her. She didn't exactly look... comfortable. Or at least he didn't think so.

"People like me and Captain s'Ilancy, even old Phrexus... we're still all mostly sane because of stories. It's what helped us through the nights and the fear."

A thumb passed over the cheap label pasted on the glass bottle, and he angled his neck sharply, an audible crack sounding.

"Back then, my old Smuggler's Treasure story was popular."

It was a feeler, and one he cast out in the hopes that she'd bite. Sometimes an old yarn was just what a tense mind needed.

She rolled her neck slightly, her reposed posture less guarded than a moment before.

"Sstorrjiess beforre bed tjime? Mjy fatherrss ussed to tell them to me, to get me to ssleep."

Rai grinned in recollection, flicking her ears.

"To convjince me therre werren't monssterrss jin mjy closset. jIt worrked. jI neverr found a monssterr therre."

She deferred with a shrug.

"Tell jit to me."

That she was used to such a ritual was unsurprising, and Samus gave a shallow nod as he shifted in his seat. He stared past Raifa, to the far wall and its' off-white paint.

"Ok, then."

His free hand moved to rest on one leg.

"Back when I was young... I'd guess no older than eight years... my younger sister and I were convinced that there was a cache of smuggler treasure stashed somewhere in the Red Mountains back home on Myomar. We spent way too much time speculating on where it could be, and what exactly was in it, and we'd even made maps to where we thought it was."

The hand that held the bottle lifted only enough to send splayed fingers into the air, a motion meant to convey the airy times of youth and what those times brought with them.

"We'd read all the books in the library that we could about the Red Mountains, and all of the legends that were told about them. Some were about old cartographer sites, a few mysterious disappearances that were never solved, but there were a number that had to do with the Karassaba Pirate Gang and all of the possible places that they stored their loot. On Myomar, everyone knew about Karassaba; the old Nikto had gotten himself a group together to raid ships, then smuggle their treasures back to Myomar. Guess he figured that it was out of the way enough that no one would really go looking there."

He took a level off from the bottle.

"And he was right, for the most part. No one ever really went to Myomar unless they had to. We're so out of the way that most folks don't really know we're there. So anyway, it was said that Karassaba brought back a horde, almost, of stolen gold and jewels from luxury liners and yachts that he and his pirates had gotten their hands on. There was even a sidenote in one of the books about a shipment of Imperial credits that he'd managed to steal. Don't know if that one was actually true or not, but when you're young all you really see when you read those sorts of stories is a cave full of treasure that you could use to buy all of the hologames and candy that your heart could ever desire."

Samus paused then, letting himself remember back to those days with a fondness that was impossible to miss.

"Me an' Coraline spent hours in the library, just pouring through those books and trying to figure out where Karassaba's treasure was. We had pages earmarked, that we thought were important; hells, we even had a special notebook that we wrote threories in; where we thought certain landmarks would be, where each possible gully and dried up riverbed was. If you really think about it, it was impressive, all of the work we put into that damned notebook."

Samus's story was floral and meandering, and Rai tried to imagine it from his eyes. It was hard to envision Dage as a cub. In her mind's eye, he was as he was, just a smaller version of himself.

"jI'm guesssjing that ssjince jyou'rre herre, that jyou djidn't exactljy fjind a cache of rrjichess?"

Or maybe he did. That would be amusing/infuriating. Samus Dage, the secret tycoon.

"Unless jyou jusst rrealljy enjojy prretendjing to be folkssjy. Sso what happened?"

"Well."

She seemed halfway interested at least, and her half-sharp barbs gave the impression that she wasn't cross enough to dig angrily into the why's of his old yarn. It was heartening, and maybe - just maybe - she was a little bit interested.

"Sure as those stripes on your face," his gesturing hand sent a finger her way even as his bottle-hand lifted to deliver another plug down his throat.

"... we found something. Or well, someone. Ma an' Coraline were out wandering the back of the north-edge grazing fields, trying to pick out landmarks. We even went over the fence that marked the old property line; or at least, the valley line. My Da owned a small portion of the land that was a part of the Red Mountains, so we weren't really trespassing on anyone else's stake. We just started up the foothills then the mountain base, is all. We thought we'd come across Teigar's Hand, some old rock formation that looked like a hand reaching up to the sky."

He was looking past her again, his eyes on the wall behind her as he seemed to settle further into the story.

"Behind it came an old man, beard halfway down his chest, with dried bits of chewing tabac crusted into the hairs around his mouth. He stank like an eopie pen, and his clothes were like those old prospectors you hear stories about, out on frontier words. Old guy looked a mess, but hells, his eyes were sharp as needle-points."

There was a pause then, as the blonde made a face. It was as though he could smell that old man all over again. Strange how some memories triggered stuff like that.

"He looked at Coraline, then at me, and then he squared up like we'd just trespassed on his property. Course, we hadn't done any such thing; land belonged to our Da, so we weren't really worried too much. But he still looked a right mess, and offended that we'd gone and disturbed whatever he was doing back behind that bit of rock. Looking back on it, he was probably having a long piss, but when you're kids, stuff like that doesn't factor in and you think the rotter's up to nothin' good. Or that he's hiding something."

He shrugged then.

"But this old guy, he looks at us kids and tells us to get off and leave him alone. Says he doesn't wanna have to stick us like a couple of shaaklets. The he looks at our notebook, which Coraline has open since she'd been trying to compare the rock shape with the drawing she'd made, and gets a narrow look in his eyes. Old wreck spit out a stream of tabac juice that landed on my shoe, and says that we're lookin' for ghosts and need to get our heads out the clouds."

"Sso he wass hjidjing ssomethjing then? And he thought jyou werre a pajirr of clajim jumperrss?"

Rai shifted, still searching for the ideal patch of comfort her sleeping space could afford.

"jI thjink jI've sseen thjiss holo. Sso, how djid jYoung Ssamuss deal wjith the djissrresspect of a djirrtjy boot?"

"Eh, he rattled off some string of gibberish, then wandered off. About all we could understand was what he'd first said, about chasin' ghosts and whatnot. The rest... I think it had to do with mules and crusted up engine coils. I think. Coraline always had a good ear for understanding mumbled words, but even she was at a loss."

A pull from his bottle, and a released paahhh as he swallowed.

"As for the tabac, Young Samus wasn't a complete idiot. He knew better than to start a fight with an old drunk drifter that held no decent command of Basic, so he just let the old prospector go. Men like that are different, and it's best to not raise their hackles. So, we just kinda stood there for a bit longer, watching him leave, then after he'd gone around a bend in the trail, we went back to the notebook. Teigar's Hand was a pretty distinctive rock formation, so we were certain we'd found it.

"We marked in our book exactly where it was on our map, then started off for the next landmark, the Jathy Sinkhole. Least, that was what we knew it as. Who knew what it was really called, but a lot of the old books had it listed as a big collapsed shaft had opened up over an old mining tunnel from back in the day. We figured it was the old Jathy Sinkhole that everyone made sure to avoid. Apparently the land around it was still unstable, and there were still coal embers burning underground from the fire that had closed the Jathy Mine. It was an old place, from a long time before even my own Grandpa was a sprog."

Slowly, his words seemed to trickle to a stop, and Samus let his eyes return to his bottle before ponderously replacing the cap.

At last Rai found a position on her side comfortable enough to endure, and she cinched her covers beneath her chin, watching Samus turn momentarily introspective. Her fangs flashed in the dim light as she yawned, but she remained an active audience.

"Then what happened?"

"That, I will tell you tomorrow night."

Her yawn was infectious, and slowly getting to his feet, the blonde trundled his way to his bunk. A hefty sigh, a groan, and he let himself practically fall to sit on the edge of the mattress. He leaned forward, hands going to hitch up one pantleg, then the other so he could undo the quicklaces of each. Kicking off each boot, he let out another gravelly growl before reclining fully; not even bothering with the blanket just yet.

"For now," the tiredness in his voice was easily detected, and there was no room for doubt that he would be asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow.

"... it's time for... " a second yawn, "... bed."

Disappointed in the lack of a satisfactory conclusion, Rai sighed. The blue of her eyes cast back the feeble light in the room, and she blinked slowly, trying sleep on for size. It didn't quite take, so she watched Samus in his brief and unsatisfactory display of undress, creak back onto his mattress.

"Thjiss jiss funnjy."

Doing his best to make himself comfortable - which was honestly not that difficult, Samus rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. His words were muffled, but thankfully recognizable enough.

"mmfmhHoww sssho."

"jI thjink thjiss jiss the fjirrsst tjime jI've sslept wjith a man wjithout..."

She yawned again, heavier this time.

"Ljike jI ssajid, funnjy."

The silence that followed her observation was broken about thirty seconds later, but not by any sort of reply.

Instead, it was a slow buildup of a snore that cut off abruptly, only to start once more a few moments after hitting its' crescendo. And again. And again. It was paced and rhythmic, with some growing in volume, and others remaining quiet, but never quiet enough.

The sonorous pitch waxed and waned in no clear pattern. Rai pulled her covers up so that she could tuck one ear under the hem, leaving the other pressed against her pillow. Sleep eventually came, but it was poor and frequently broken by a sudden snort or gasp from Dage.

* * *

Early rising was no real difficulty, and Samus was certainly no stranger to rolling himself out of bed, only half-awake, to stumble into his small fresher. This morning was no different than the others, except for the fact that there was an extra mattress taking up a good portion of floorspace in the already small quarters he'd been given, and so his mental state cleared quick enough as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cold tile that met his bare feet went a long way to further push the fog of slumber from his brain. At some point in the night he'd managed to pull a single blanket over part of his body, which he now pushed off to the side.

Rising to stand, the blonde made sure to not wake the pile of blankets that currently occupied the mattress against the far wall, and stepping carefully around, he slipped through the doorway into the small fresher unit. The door closed quietly, and now alone, he rolled his shoulders before finally stripping of yesterday's clothes.

Thirty seconds later found him in the shower, enjoying actual hot water. Steam billowed out from around the clear shower curtain to fill the rest of the fresher, and he stood beneath the stream of near-scalding liquid bliss.

Apparently living on a world that was mostly snow and ice had its' perks.

Rai woke with a shiver, locking her jaws to keep her teeth from chattering in response to the frigid air outside her cocoon. She pulled her covers over her nose, holding in that state for a moment until it didn't feel like ice. From there, she carefully peeled out of her warm haven, finding yesterday's socks beneath her covers as she quickly sheathed her bare feet. She wedged them into waiting boots, mindful not to put either heel or toe against the cold floor. She coughed a steamy puff into the chilly morning air, shouldered her heavy jacket and wool cap, and disappeared out of the room.

He'd fallen asleep while repairing one of the repulsor regulators on his tank, only to be woken up by the cold nose of one of the many tooka-cats that had taken up residence in his bay. They weren't necessarily nuisances, but there were certainly times when they annoyed him; usually it was during the times that they insisted on sleeping atop the very things he was working on.

But now, he didn't mind so much, even though he could feel the curled up form of one of the feline critters on his shoulder. Delicately, he sat up straighter while reaching an arm around to cup the animal and let it slide gently down. It was a pale lavender, with a toothy grin that stretched wide and owlish, black eyes that blinked groggily up at him before letting out a scraggly, rumbling purr.

His lips peeled back into a smile, and the Besalisk let out a henh before turning about and starting back into his home, the tooka still cradled in his arm.


He was coming through the stairwell doorway when the soft click of a closing door sounded, and slowly he came to a stop, his head ponderously swiveling about to look at one Rai'faani leaving Samus' quarters.

The tooka, still content and happily snuggled in the arm of his much larger caretaker, the tooka craned its' head, blinking as it stared at this newcomer.

Rai wedged the small pistol holster into the belt of her pants, cinching it down until the clips snapped into place.

"jI'm gojing out."

"Oh?"

His rumbled answer reverberated through the air with a hint of amusement. A free hand came around to skritch at the tooka's head, yellowed fingernails furrowing into the soft fur between its' ears.

"And what are you planning on doing?"

"jI'm gojing to catch ssomethjing to eat."

She said it like it was obvious, then realized perhaps it wasn't. Rai sighed, shaking her head.

"Lasst njight wass horrrjid. jI'm not havjing that agajin."

If he had eyebrows, they would've lifted in a show of curiosity and humor. This little one had a flair for the dramatic, and inwardly he found it somewhat funny. He could still remember the face she'd made the night before.

"Well then," he turned to look away from her, towards the balcony that overlooked the old receiving area and the closed double-doors leading into the rec room.

"... if I was you," his head angled back, fingers still scratching his feline friend, "... I would march yourself right back into those quarters you left and grab the coldweather gear stowed in the lockers."

A free hand waved dismissively at her heavy jacket that, while certainly sturdy, would do little to protect her for longer than twenty minutes in the snows outside.

"That's a nice jacket, but it won't keep you warm for long enough."

She glanced in the direction the Besalisk indicated, inwardly weighing mental scales whether it was best to be prudent or prideful. She opted for the former.

"Fjine."

Rai glanced down at the Tooka, who returned a beady-eyed stare. It looked well fed. Hopefully on something other than ration packs.

"What'ss the huntjing ljike herre?"

"Got a lot of taun taun, and a fair amount of snowbear roaming about in the lower cliffs."

The tooka squirmed about then, an unspoken demand to be let down, and like a gentle giant, Krale slowly knelt down to allow the still-purring feline to slip from the crook of his arm. It stood for only a moment, then twisted back to rub its' head across one of his forearms.

"Close by though, there's plenty of winter jakrab and horned mountain goats."

A strange smile seemed to pass over his craggy features as the tooka passed its' tail along the underside of his jaw. It was an expression that looked wrong on him, but at the same time it somehow fit.

"Do not kill any of the tooka."

She was already on her way to the lockers, but paused at Phrexus's warning. Rai glanced back to the besalisk, and then to his pet with a charmed life.

"jI thjink jyourr ljittle frrjiendss arre ssafe. Untjil we rrun out of jackrrab. jIt'ss ssurrvjival, rrjight?"

Rai lined up the nearest tooka with a finger gun, winked, then 'blew out' her fingertip. With that, she headed off to suit up.

* *

His shower had been glorious, and Samus had spent a few minutes longer underneath the hot water, feeling as the steam cocooned him in its' warmth. How often did a body get to enjoy the delights of an actual water shower? They certainly weren't aboard Khera'Va'ss'io, and sadly even the facilities on Jovan were sonic. About the only times he'd been able to really get a good natural bout of cleaning was whenever they were recalled to Dac or Bothawui for whatever reason or another. And even then, that was such a two-edged vibro-blade. He'd never enjoyed the more official bits of meetings with the upper levels of the Navy, but the showers... core alive he would deal with the bad just to get five minutes of the good.

Two minutes passed; enough time for him to step from the shower, scrub dry, and re-dress himself with swift expediency. His socks and boots were pulled on, followed by his overcoat.

Stepping out into the hall, Samus gave a quick look left and right, then trundled his way to the balcony that overlooked the receiving are. Krale was busying himself with something at an old desk which he'd re-purposed into what looked like a feeding station. At least, that was the guess, judging by the gaggle of gathered took-cats milling around his feet.

"Never figured you for a cat person."

A grunt from the Besalisk down below, and Krale half-turned to look up at the blonde.

"They're mostly quiet and don't talk back," came the answer, accompanied by a toothy grin.

Samus couldn't help the smirk that settled over his lips, and giving a shrug, turned to head for the stairwell that would take him down to the receiving area.

Cocooned and swaddled in cold weather gear, Rai quickly deduced that this was less and less like Taltimant after all. The weather was too harsh to allow for something to wear that might give more agility. Instead, she had to tromp through the drifts and overnight accumulation in heavy layers. Each step she took was less a reflex action than one planned in committee, and it was slow going until she got out of the drifts. Once she did, all she had to contend with were the gale winds, and Rai pushed the heavy woolen scarf over the hood of her parka to keep it out.

At least smells carried far and clean in the cold air. Maybe because of a lack of anything else, the sparse scents of wildlife could be picked easily off the wind, so long as it wasn't searing the tip of your nose off with frostbite. Rai found a trail and in short order made her way towards a recently filled-in drift. With one mittened hand around the grip of a light survival rifle, she cleared away the loose snow with her other. Slowly, carefully, until there was a sudden burst of movement.

BZAT! BZAT-ZAT!

Five minutes later, Rai tromped back into the bay with rifle in one hand, and a blaster-pelted jackrab in the other. Wedging the rifle against the wall, she slapped at her heavy coat to knock the accumulated powder off, before snatching the scarf from her wind-chapped nose and lips.