"Well that makes two of us, because it isn't the Alliance that's calling, ma'am."
Captain Jaska smirked as she banked around for another pass.
"Besides, they're too comfortable calling themselves the New Republic these days. Pretending the job's finished."
A bit of dawning recollection brightened old Zem's eyes.
"They're with the Resistance."
She snapped her head to look at him, the already deep frown she wore getting more severe. The Resistance?!
"I don't care if it's the ghost of General Dodonna come calling," she hissed at him.
"We've been out here, in the expanse, for many years, Lok. And before that, many years more."
The old man clasped his hands in front of him, looking very much his age.
"If our path doesn't follow those who seek the Jedi, then where does it belong?"
Her brow knit, and the Lupine turned sharply away from him to stare at the viewscreen. Mr. Nakka, from his seat in the pilot's nest, had turned around and his narrowed eyes peered at her in question.
Finally, she blew out a snorted breath.
"Fine."
She made a face, rising to her feet while turning the KHER.
"Inform them that they may berth in docking bay 2."
Yes Ma'am.
"Resistance fighters, you are cleared for landing in bay two. Follow the incoming vectors."
Captain Jaska smiled at the good news, easing off the power on her engines as she widened her bank to align with the incoming waypoints.
"Must've been our charming personality. Sansa, you still with me? Relay to Gold Squadron to maintain a holding perimeter. Looks like we get to make friends today."
"Gotcha. Finally." Sansa huffed, glad that they had finally made some progress, even if she was a little disappointed nothing exciting was going to happen. Like many youthful pilots, she craved something dangerous and fun. She was too spoiled and too coddled to know to be careful what she wished for.
She piloted her fighter inside the hangar bay with plenty of skill, suggesting that whatever she lacked in experience she more than made up for in technical aptitude. The cockpit opened and Sansa lifted off her helmet, but didn't descend from the ship right away. Instead, she first produced a compact mirror and checked her appearance, quickly touching up her red lip gloss and spraying hairspray in to her hair, to make sure it had plenty of bounce and style after wearing her helmet. She ran her brush through it until she was satisfied, and even sprayed on a little more perfume (something Sansa definitely didn't need), before finally descended, in stiletto heeled boots and pink flight suit.
She walked across the hangar towards where Siloo had landed, sauntering on click clacking heels with her hips swaying wildly like a teenage fashion model.
"Ugh. What a dump." She wrinkled her nose at the old hangar. "Who the heck could live here that's worth recruiting?" She asked snobbily.
Once more she had left the bridge, though this time with not only Zem, but KHER as well. The three of them occupied the lift as it sent them downwards, and with her arms crossed over her chest, the Lupine stared ahead, brooding over this turn of events. It was not ideal. It went against the already carefully laid plans in her head. She had suddenly been cast out into a sea of unknowns and it was that that so greatly agitated her.
At the very least, KHER kept whatever was going on in his processors to himself. The last thing that she wanted was to play the game of twenty questions with a ship's AI that had too much of the old habits rattling around in its' databanks.
Inhaling through her nose, she slowly released it back out through thin lips before turning to her life partner. Her next words were heavily laced with doses of cynicism and amusement, and just a trace of laziness.
"Any last words?"
Zem wore a settled face that spoke to his contentment with the moment, and his confidence in his wife.
"You've never been one to easily make a friend, have you?"
It was as much observation as it was prophecy. The old Master knew the mind of his opposite, and he had a good inkling as to her disposition.
"You've made the right decision and I think you know it. We're old hands at this, aren't we? The force speaks through us, and we listen."
"You listen, I just drag my heels."
There was a measure of truth in her words, as s'Il felt the lift slow its' descent. It seemed as though she'd more often than not been cajoled into doing what she knew needed to be done. And perhaps it was a flaw in her own mindset, but Zem had never once lost his patience over it; it was something that she had many times over remarked on whenever they found themselves a private moment.
The lift stopped, the doors hissing open, and the trio departed, moving down the corridor toward Bay Two. KHER strode behind the two Lupines, his footfalls a steady beat as he followed.
"It is only that... this dance. It feels painfully familiar," she finally offered.
Zem kept up his pace, remarking initially to Lok's observation with a grunt.
"I think the last time it happened, a smuggler was involved."
A frown, and s'Il ground to a halt just beyond the threshold of the hangar bay.
"No, not that."
She turned to face him fully, allowing him a glimpse past her ever-so-carefully guarded exterior. He was the only one she allowed such sight. Her memory of their old sanctuary world, and of her reluctance to leave... of her resistance to joining with the Rebellion.
And in a way, that very same reluctance was rearing its' head now.
"We are beyond our younger selves I understand," she exhaled a long breath.
"... but the situation smells the same regardless."
Last edited by Master s'Ilancy; Jan 17th, 2016 at 05:53:21 PM.
The old man laughed at that, not out of condescending tone, but one of intimate understanding.
"I'm not much older than you, you know. But maybe I feel older still. This new blood in my veins, the gift of your bloodline, it's given me a little extra time. More time to think about not just where we've been, but where we're going."
They finally arrived at the door to bay two, and Zem held up his wife before crossing the threshold.
"What we've seen and done, it feels familiar. I don't think this is accidental. There's a music to this universe. We've known it all by another name, and maybe we've only listened to the song a line at a time. Take the time to listen, Loklorien s'Ilancy, and you'll hear the verses rhyme."
Held back for the moment, s'Il stared at him. Her gaze was level, her eye softening into the only look that he could pull from her. Her husband. Her mate. Their lives would always remain wound tightly, and she so often thanked not only the Force, but the Bloodline as well for that.
She blinked then.
Resisting the urge to deliver a tender kiss to his cheek, the Lupine settled for reaching out to grasp his forearm. She smiled a smile of complete understanding, yet playfulness all the same. In all of their years together, he had certainly managed to pass along some of his own oddities to her.
"I may be unable to sing, Love, but I will listen" she whispered good-naturedly.
Her grip tightened for a fraction of a second, and in the next, she released him to turn back to the doorway and Bay Two. She could already see the X-Wings and their pilots, a sharp contrast to the older models berthed close by.
Siloo had tucked out of her flight helmet and accompanied Sansa to the fore of the hangar. Despite exiting last, she had the least amount of preening to do, so she spent a bit more time fixated on the architecture. It certainly had a bit of use on it. Carbon scoring, oil leaks, all tell-tale. This ship had seen use. But there was something else to it. Even in the hangar interior, this ship seemed so starkly different from other ships she had seen. Siloo figured that she'd get a better sense of the thing from an inside view, but even here, she drew a blank.Originally Posted by Alis'ans'amey
"Strange looking ship. Almost reminds me of those old Hapan ships of the line."
Before Siloo could inspect any further, the hangar doors began to open. The Captain drew her gloves off her hand, rapping Sansa on the shoulder with one.
"Heads up. Looks like the General's friend is here."
"Ow." Sansa whined when she was rapped lightly on the arm, before turning to see the two oldies approaching. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Great. More old people." She grumbled, mostly to herself. Weren't militaries supposed to be made up of young and fit fighting men? Where were all the hunky young men to recruit? God, she swore, the Resistance must be the only fighting force in the galaxy with an average age for its combatants of over fifty...
"Hiya!" She waved, trying to sound cheerful, but only so they could get this over with and get out of there. She didn't say much else because anything else, well, that was Siloo's domain. Sansa just flew. She wasn't a diplomat. For very, very obvious reasons...
The Captain and her Jedi closed the distance in relative silence. She acknowledged the called greeting with only a concerned look, but it wasn't long before s'Il's eye went to the other pilot. The woman had the look of someone who didn't much care for puffery, which in any other case the elder Lupine would've appreciated. As it was, right now was a particularly bad bit of timing to be approached by, well, anyone really.
"Which on was it," she spoke quietly, addressing KHER.
The droid wasted little time, his internal sensors scanning both ships. A moment later he answered.
The one with larger amount of kill-count decals. Serial number-
"Yes thank you."
She really didn't need to know the technicals of the fighter belonging to the pilot she planned to single out. Another few seconds, and s'Il slowed to a stop before the two, her eye on Siloo. Her gaze shifted momentarily to the woman's X-Wing, then back again. She stood, her head angled up at a slight tilt. A thoughtful breath in, then back out.
"I don't take kindly to warning shots, Pilot."
And before there was an answer, s'Il's fist came around in an impossibly fast right hook, catching the other woman square on the jaw.
The old lady threw a punch like she had a roll of credits in her hand, and the shot took Siloo to a knee. She could feel the coppery wellspring of blood along her bottom lip, and she came right back to her feet as alive as anything.
"Yeah, well if it's not across your nose, it's up it! You're the one not broadcasting tags or striking colors! My squad could've mistaken you for a pirate or a First Order collaborator, and your cross-eyed helmsman isn't doing you any favors!"
The Captain's fists balled up, waiting for an excuse to use them. Right now, they were at the simple misunderstanding phase.
"There are reasons," came the counter, "... for my silence."
Despite her short stature, s'Il stood seemingly taller than all. She was as an overprotective mother sandpanther, and she bristled.
"I strike no colors because I have none, and I don't want any."
She let the jab at Mr. Nakka's piloting fall to the wayside, choosing instead to turn the other woman's words back around.
"Perhaps the next time you descend into cloudcover, be sure to run with your active sensors rather than just your eyes."
Sansa screamed when the scarred woman struck Siloo, jumping out of her skin (and several feet back) in case she was next. She might have been an ace pilot, but now she was on the ground, she was more than useless. She was weak, feeble and terrified of physical violence. Plus, well, she might mess up her hair if somebody attacked her, and she couldn't have any of that.
"Hey! Stoppit!" She shrieked, terrified and making sure there was plenty of space between her and the very scary older woman. "W-we were sent here by our General! That's all! H-he thought that, like, maybe you'd want to join our cause!" She tried to explain, stammering with fright as she did so...
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