Errand Boys

[Sanis Prent]

The comm pierced the calm of a few hours of decent sleep I was finding in my own damn quarters.

"Command to Rogue 13. Command to Rogue 13. You're summoned to central briefing in one hour."

"Oh what the shit is it now?"

I blinked sleep out of my eyes and fumbled for the talk button on the squawk box, adjacent to my bed.

"Briefing? What for?"

The voice on the other side sounded like the sort that didn't have any answers anyway.

"Unsure sir. Jedi business. You were requested."

I sighed long and hard, fumbled for my pack of stims on the floor, yanked one out, and lit it as I sat up. Jedi business, I'd learned from my years with s'Il and the rest, was essentially whatever random idea crawled up their ass. Something deep and mystical and beyond my plebeian understanding, and sure to cause me to risk life and limb. I didn't even bitch about it anymore, it was sort of, pedestrian.

"Does anybody actually get to have a decent night's sleep in this rust convoy?"

I didn't hit the squawk box, it was no point bitching down the chain of command. I didn't even shudder at being called sir this time. I think the nerve endings that hit my sense of revulsion were being dulled.

Finishing my stim, I ran a comb a few times in my hair and slid on a clean set of officer blues. The whole fact that I now had multiple pairs of the same outfit and that most of them were clean was still having a bit of time to register.

"MARCUS, status of hyperdrive diagnostic?"

The Layla's modular computer network came alive, a cyllindrical avatar of itself beeping to life on the bedside.

"Diagnostic completed. Output calculated to 97.3 percent. We have not tested at an efficiency level this high in almost a year. If I may speak freely, I am most interested to see the overall effectiveness of L-"

"Switch off you pseudo-sentient beer can!"

The computer module beeped and then was silent. I finished lashing my boots, gave myself a quick once-over, and was out the door.

Through the ladder well, I could hear the distant din of an arc welder. Cirr was up early, and already on top of a new batch of upgrades. The entire time we'd been here, he'd essentially been like a kid in a candy store, tearing through whatever inventory he could get his mitts on to repair or outright improve the ship. I'd helped him along in this task, but he had essentially put me at arms-length for the serious work below deck. I trusted him implicitly, because he was the most street-smart mechanic I'd ever known. That, and he talked to the fucking ship more than I did. I think Layla was the only pussy he'd had in six months, I wasn't going to deprive him of that for now.

I punched the comm that tied me to the engine room.

"Cirr, I got officer shit to do. Hold it down, I'll be back whenever."

"Wjill do. Also, jif you can, Masterr Chjief Kochanskji has a parrcel forr me. Be a lad and pjick jit up on the way back overr."

"Whatever, just don't blow up the ship while I'm gone. Also whatever shit you left out in the galley better be gone, it smells."

I didn't bother for the affirmative. I headed down the corridor to the shuttle bay, piling into the Black Cat. With a brief warm-up, I had the shuttle purring as the back-hatch sealed. Atmosphere was released, then the bay door opened, and I eased the small shuttle out, and toward the Mon Calamari escort cruiser.

The trip was completely routine, and a minute or two later, I'd touched down on a landing cordon in the main hangar bay. A cordon of flight deck underlings crowded around my shuttle like ants as I stepped out, heading without delay to the briefing area.

Might as well get this shit done with. Sooner I did that, maybe I'd get eight hours of sleep.

[Abarai Loki]

Central Briefing was but a flight of stairs and a corridor away from the main hangar, in fact, to its inhabitants it offered a panoramic view of the daily comings and goings of starships and personnel below. Loki stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring through the long sheet of reinforced plexiglass as the Black Cat docked, and caught a brief glimpse of its pilot before retiring to the briefing circle. The room was spartan and white, arcing rows of seats climbed away from a lectern and display panel giving it the look of an ampitheatre. Not a single soul filled the seats, indeed there was no-one to be found anywhere in the room other than the boy in the Jedi robes.

He wore a simple black tunic over a white undertunic. A long sleeveless white haori set him apart in appearance from the others but he'd recently noticed it was beginning to feel tight upon the shoulders. Absently, he brushed a crease from it as he took a last look at the large starchart on the display panel. The doors opened behind him and he heard footsteps.

"Mister Prent," he said, turning to greet him, "I'm glad you can join me. Please take a seat."

[Sanis Prent]

I arched my eyebrow at the kid, who spoke to me in the sort of fashion I'd expect from somebody graying at the temples. Probably some homebody homeschooled son of whatever Jedi I was supposed to be working with.

"Sure thing."

Catching a sleep-deprived yawn, I eased into the seat nearest the door and crossed my right ankle perpendicular over my left knee as I waited.

"Who are we waiting for?"

Something wasn't right about this.

[Abarai Loki]

"No-one," he said, bemused, "I was merely waiting for you."

The fact that he'd chosen to take a seat at the back of the room made an immediate impression upon Loki, whose scrutinizing gaze finally fell to a pair of datapads which he collected and carried to the top tier of seats. He would not shout in an empty room to accomodate the ears of a lazy man.

Sanis Prent, he thought as he climbed the stairs, it had been the name on everyone's lips when he'd spoken of this mission, so much so that almost an entire squadron of starfighter pilots came forth to vouch for his experience, capability, and professionalism. Clearly he was held in high regard amongst his peers since the task at hand wasn't of any extraordinary importance and yet they came forward to sing his praise. He handed him a datapad onto which he'd loaded and organised all neccessary planetary information, astronavigational charts, ship specifications, and a catalogue of alien flora and fauna. Choosing to remain standing, he commenced his briefing.

"Sanis Prent, at approximately twenty-two hundred hours a small cargoship called The Waywarder was scheduled to rendezvous with the convoy and, true to its name, it didn't. Then at twenty-three hundred hours Valiant command detected a weak distress signal coming from a moon in the neighbouring system and has concluded the origin of which to be none other than our wayward cargoship. Our mission is to scout the crash sight, rescue any survivors and retrieve their cargo. We leave in an hour. Do you have any questions?"

[Sanis Prent]

I wasn't at all ready for a briefing to actually begin, so the kid barreling into the meat of it caught me off guard. Taking the datapad, I only gave it a cursory glance as the sudden dawning overcame me.

"Wait, you're the Jedi I'm running escort for?"

Maybe I just needed some caf or another stim, but I was having a time of wrapping my head around it.

[Abarai Loki]

"I think it would be more accurate to say you would be doing it for the people stranded on that moon, Mister Prent, as I have nothing to to gain from the mission."

It wasn't the line of questioning he'd had in mind and while under normal circumstances he was loath to state the obvious this time he was willing to humour it because within the hour he'd be gone. Within the hour, he'd be rid of Acacius Blade for at least a day. A whole day.

"But yes, I am the Jedi with whom you'll be working. My name is Abarai Loki."

[Sanis Prent]

I wracked my brain on this. What were these little guys called? Damn, I used to know from the days Lok tag-along'ed on my ship. Padawans, yeah.

"Oh, that's right, a Padawan."

I exhaled a little, realizing I wasn't going insane this morning. I sprung up to my feet, tapping the datapad in hand.

"You put this together all by yourself?"

I gave it another look, slowly at first. Both eyebrows raised. This was pretty professionally done.

"Hmm...damn."

[Abarai Loki]

"Sanis Prent, I can assure you I am no padawan."

A hot prickling sensation crawled up the back of his neck and yet his cool composure betrayed no sign of the battle fought beneath the surface. He gestured to the datapad.

"Also, I believe it is standard operating procedure to include a detailed account of destination and inventory with every mission briefing in order to ensure the task force is well prepared. I have done nothing differently here."

He cast him a quizzical look, "You are familiar with military protocol, are you not?"

[Sanis Prent]

What the hell was this? Some kind of joke. I couldn't tell. If it was a joke, the kid was about as convincing as I'd ever seen. I resumed thumbing through the pad briefly, tucking it away at my side.

"Familiar enough, yeah. It's just that..."

I looked at the kid, looking for a visual cue that he was betraying some sort of hint of this bizarre course of events. He seemed, at all times, serious as ever.

"...eh, forget it. Either way, shuttle's prepped and ready to head back to Layla."

I'd never understand Jedi, ever. If this kid was legitimately a Jedi Knight, the whole lot of them were nutters.

[Abarai Loki]

"Excellent," he said, pocketing his datapad, "I presume your ship is fully fueled? Needless to say it would be quite an embarassment if we found ourselves stranded in the middle of dead space with an empty tank."

From behind one of the rows of seats, he pulled out a large backpack which was swollen and looked ready to burst at the seams. He slung it over his shoulder with relative ease, slipped the second strap over his arm and secured it firmly in place with a buckle across the chest. A quick shrug of the shoulders to ensure all contents were secure, there was an ominous rattle but the boy seemed satisfied and rejoined the pilot. There was a pause in his stride and he gave Sanis a curious sideways glance.

"Shouldn't it be The Layla?" he asked, then was out the door, shaking his head.

[Sanis Prent]

Who was this kid and why was he riding my case like Cirr's mama?

"I spent years scraping by with barely enough credits to put fuel in my ship. With my fuel bill on the Alliance dole, I'm always topped off."

We headed back down to the landing bay, over to where the Black Cat was waiting for us. The hatch was open, waiting for us to step in and secure our things. The kid's question, again, hit below the belt and I grimaced.

"Maybe when you're older and you understand women you'll figure that one out."

[Abarai Loki]

"If you're referring to a pilot's predisposition to give his ship an identity, and in fact talk to and treat it like a real person in the hope that the ship in turn will treat its passengers well then you are mistaken, sadly I am familiar with such nonsensical superstition," he said as he settled into his seat, he glanced across at Sanis with what looked like pity, "And it has nothing to do with age or women."

After the hatch was sealed, Sanis brought the shuttle's engines to life and Loki watched him with fierce curiosity. He nodded in agreement with the flicking of switches and instrument alterations as he ticked off a mental checklist of pre-flight protocol. When they finally departed the hangar, he eased into his seat, satisfied with the quality of his own knowledge. Piloting was something of mystery to him and the sensation of flying still made him uncomfortable, so much so that his vice-like grip left finger marks in the armrests. The shuttle banked and they approached the Layla. Loki leaned forward.

"Such an odd-looking ship," he said, fascinated, "From the side it looks unfinished, like its missing half of its rear. Curious! Does it handle well in atmospheres?"

[Sanis Prent]

I was finally relieved to get off the touchy subject of my ship's name, and onto more, uh, practical issues.

"Not as well as in deep space, but decent enough. It's a bit different from other Corellian ships. Variable nozzled thrust lets us push maneverability similar to a ship half our size."

The bay doors opened, and a pair of guide lights beckoned us in. I eased the shuttle onto its moorings, which clamped down as the doors shut behind us. A few seconds later for atmosphere and gravity to kick in, and the green light blinked.

"You much of a starship buff, young Jedi?"

[Abarai Loki]

"No. My knowledge of starships is somewhat... limited," he confessed in dissappointment, "It is my intention to compensate for my inexperience with the information I've downloaded onto these datapads."

There was a tone of reassurance in his voice and his aversion to making eye contact betrayed no small degree of discomfort at this admission. He knew there was no point in avoiding the truth for it would surface sooner or later now they were in Prent's domain. Behind them, the egress hatch unfurled spilling grey light into the gloomy shuttle and Loki rose, pulling on his backpack. He followed Sanis out.

"Captain Prent," he said, "Shortcomings in my familiarity with this vessel aside, I wish to contribute as a member of your crew for the duration of this journey. How may I be of use?"

[Sanis Prent]

"This isn't my first dance with a Jedi in the ring. Ride shotgun up top, and don't hesitate to let me know if something feels off."

The airlock door leading into the habitat deck hissed open, and Cirr stepped in, ducking gingerly to avoid the low clearance.

"You ourr Jedji?" His ears betrayed his confusion, cocking at uneven angles as he looked to me for confirmation. I smiled and clapped Loki on the shoulder.

"That's him. Abarai Loki, meet uh, Lieutenant Raurrssatta. First mate, chief mechanic, ordnance jockey, chief cook and bottle washer."

[Abarai Loki]

Shotgun, Loki repeated inwardly, as he recalled details of the Layla's weapon systems. It was an odd role to be assigned for someone in his position but it wasn't his place to question Prent on his ship. Then his first mate appeared.

"Greetings."

He gave him a curt nod and maintained eye contact, which was difficult to do considering he'd never before seen such a species, curiosity begged his eyes to wander. The alien towered an impressive foot and a half over the boy and looked at least twice his width in the shoulders. And despite the imposing appearance, his posture and expression were entirely unassuming. There was a beat of silence in which, impossibly, he felt compelled to speak and being contemptuous of small talk, he kept it formal.

"I am pleased to be working with you, Lieutenant, and as your gunner I will not disappoint."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr's ear-tips bounced forward a bit at the humorous misunderstanding. Sanis spoke in slang, and the language barrier was a tough nut for Cirr to crack at first, too.

"Don't worrry about the weapons, jI'll handle that."

He reached over with a big hand, an unspoken offering to relieve the human boy of his luggage.

"Sanjis means he wants you jin the cockpjit next to hjim. jIt's an old sayjing."

Venturing that he might be able to break protocol with somebody who wasn't rank and file Alliance, Cirr's ears lowered a bit.

"And call me Cjirr. Nobody calls me LT. Sounds wrrong."

[Abarai Loki]

"No," he snapped as the lieutenant offered to carry his rucksack, quickly adding a "Thank you."

After hearing his explanation, Loki was at once dispirited and relieved that he wouldn't be on laser turret duty - a datapad could only teach so much. The implication that he was to serve as a glorified proximity alarm, however, did not sit well with him at all. He mulled over this as they passed through the airlock and into the main arteries of the ship. The lieutenant was a peculiar indivdual, Loki thought, and his eyebrow arched.

"It's curious you have an aversion to being addressed by your rank and yet you wish to be called 'sir'. Since I am not directly affiliated with the alliance military I'm afraid I cannot oblige your request."

He paused in his step and looked up at the lieutenant with utmost sincerity, "Will 'Mister Raurrssatta' suffice?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr huffed a soft laugh, correcting the common misunderstanding.

"Shorrt forr Cirrsseeto. jIt's mjy name. Cizeri names arre long ljike that. Shorrtened to make jit easy forrda, err...uhh...non Cizerack."

He respected the kid's choice to pull his own weight, and understood an unspoken need for him to be his own man. Pausing, Cirr looked down at his feet, then to Sanis.

"Actually, jif you don't need any help rrjight now, jI could use an extrra hand below deck."

Sanis gave him a brief, funny look, and nodded.

"Any aversions to a grease stain or two, Mr. Loki?"

The Nar Shadaan figured that the uptight Jedi would brow-beat Cirr into a crater for suggesting it, but he'd have to learn the ropes like he did too.

[Abarai Loki]

"As I said before, Mister Prent," he began stiffly, "While on this vessel I will perform any task that is required of me."

It was a rather open invitation and one which Loki, who was suddenly more aware of his crisp clean robes, feared he may regret in the near future. But he wouldn't shy away from even the most banal manual labour, especially after making himself look foolish in front of these men. Besides, he reminded himself, he'd worked in worse conditions...

Before departing for the Layla's underbelly, Loki was lead to his quarters where he deposited his baggage and took a moment to give the room a full assessment:

"Small, but satisfactory. Cirr-" he hesitated, tripping over the uncomfortable friendliness in the nickname, "I'm ready to begin. Will I require any apparatus or safety equipment?"