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Thread: The Ragged They Come

  1. #1
    Barton Henning
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    Jedi The Ragged They Come

    There was something fearful about the sight of it, something that inspired an undeniable anxiety in Barton Henning. Yet, in the same breath, he felt relief. As the Knightfall had exitted hyperspace, he had fully expect to find nothing but the blackness of space – or, worse still, an Imperial star-destroyer poised for the ambushed, but what awaited the rag-tag crew was nothing short of a revelation.

    They called it the Wheel, or so he had heard. A cluster of ships - some shiny and new, others rusty and laser-scored - but all of them strung together like charms on a bracelet. Knowing just who was on board those vessels was a notion that took Barton's breath away as he stood surveying it all from the cockpit of the ship he captained. It was neither grand nor majestic, not imposing or well-armed by any means – but the simple fact that it was, that it existed, was a triumph.

    An out-dated frigate, no doubt on loan from the Rebel Alliance, formed the centrepiece of the Wheel. When Henning finally broke the hushed silence that had blanketed the cockpit – his crew looking to their captain in quiet uncertainty – it was to issue the command to open a communication channel.

    “This is Barton Henning, captain of the Knightfall... please respond.”

  2. #2
    The Valiant loitered at the center of the ensemble, dawdling through space so their rag-tag, fugitive fleet of aged and decrepid transports could keep pace. The Jedi called it the Wheel, apparently; frankly, Leela thought that description was far too delicate and flattering of the tactical blob that clustered around her ship. They were a cloud, slow-moving and exposed. She did what she could with the resources that were available, but with only the Valiant, a handful of moderately armed transports, and a single squadron of fighters - even if it was her beloved Valkyrie Squadron - to protect the refugees of the old Jedi Order, they were easy pickings. The Alliance had assured her that Rogue Squadron was on the way, which would certainly ease the strain on her pilots, but still: the way things were shaping up so far, there weren't many Imperial ships out there that wouldn't be able to decimate their convoy without batting an eye.

    She fought down a sigh. Captain Tyree had passed along the same hype that Alliance Command had fed him when briefing him on this mission, but he hadn't bought into it any more than she did. He'd been ordered to deploy one of his ships - Leela was somewhat stunned and surprised that she and her ship had been selected - to oversee the convoy; just one ship. He'd pushed for more, but apparently it was all in the interests of security. Tyree's ships had a mission to perform, disrupting Imperial supply lines: they were apparently a large enough thorn in the Empire's side for them to be noticed if they dialled back on their exploits.

    She gripped a hand at the back of her neck, fighting to ease the muscles that had been bunching. She'd been here - supervising - for hours now. For the most part, it had been as dull and uneventful as you'd expect; there wasn't much to do in the middle of nowhere, save for occasionally issuing orders to adjust the formation of the less experienced star pilots, to save them drifting into each other. But every blip on sensors stopped the heart. Every shadow they detected could be an enemy vessel there to wipe the last few glimers of the light side of the Force from the galaxy.

    When the sensors confirmed that it actually was a ship, that only made it worse.

    "Identify," she barked, kicking the arm-mounted command chair across the Mon Calamari bridge. She loomed behind her Tactical Officer as she watched him work the console.

    "Scanning transponder codes," he announced, to his credit not flinching as a glance in the Colonel's direction found her somewhat closer than he'd expected. His focus returned to the console; moments later his eyes widened at the data that flashed across his screen. "Force," he muttered under his breath, brow tumbling into a heavy frown. "Its ancient - Dynamic-class. They built those things back during the Mandalorian Wars."

    Leela didn't have a clue what one of those was, but given that the Officer had just read the information off a screen, she took his word for it. "Tactical Analysis, Lieutenant?"

    He shugged. "A pair of twin turbolasers, and two heavy dual lasers," he reported, fingers rattling away at the controls as he probed for more information. "A touch more formidable than some of the buckets we've got out there, but nothing the CAP can't handle."

    "They're hailing," the Communications Officer interrupted, from across the bridge.

    "Alright then," Leela decided with a nod, kicking her chair over to the opposite side. "Divert Seven and Eight from their designated patrol to intercept, and put the transmission on speakers."

    There was a brief flurry of activity as the few relevant officers went about their tasks; above the ambiance however, the bridge's comm systems pumped out the incoming transmission.

    Barton Henning. Knightfall.

    "Transponder confirms," the Tactical Officer concurred, relief evident in his expression. "The Knightfall is listed among our expected arrivals."

    Leela felt her nerves shatter, slumping her body a little in the chair. She managed to force a relieved smile onto her face, however. "Inform the CAP that the Knightfall is a friendly," she ordered, "And open a channel."

    "Yes ma'am," the Communications Officer obliged.

    An indicator on the arm of her chair blinked; Leela jabbed a finger into it, activating the microphone built in to her seat. "Captain Henning, this is the Alliance Vessel Valiant." Her smile grew a little more, seeping into her words. "Welcome to the Wheel."

  3. #3
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    Cleo Némain's Avatar
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    Knightfall, she liked the name. Made her feel warm and giddy and playonwordsie and that was all that mattered, mattered even more that the good feelings had gone and made her feel like it would come exploding out of her head if she held it in anymore and that meant she had to be somewheres abouts where she needed to be. And then she'd seen the bright spot, not overly blindy, most of the lights had gone and been extinguished but there, there on Nar Shaddaa, in one of the most dim places in the whole galaxy, she'd seen him in space port and it was that beacon that said home or something like it.

    But it was because of the lights that were snuffed out that she, Cleo, couldn't go and just walk right up to the guy and make a big deal out of it. Odds are she woulda hugged him just because he was there and existed and it wasn't gonna be pretty if she went and did that now would it? Strangers didn't like that sort of thing and that was good because the thought of it made her head all sorts of dizzy too.

    Oh she felt awful bad about it, though. Sneaking onto someone's ship wasn't nice. Wasn't nice for them and well it wasn't so nice for her either what with the being cramped up in some little compartment in the cargo bay. Couldn't make a noise, not even that cringey squeal that always wanted to escape whenever she had to feel that lurchy feeling of going into hyperspace. She hated it, made her kinda ....sicky. Yep, bad. Bad bad bad...and yet oh so good. Because she'd caught whispers of a few of the crew and that meant the rumors might be true and she was ending up right where she needed to be. The back was protesting the crunched up position too much and a hollow sounding clang signaled the cover of whatever little hidey place she'd chosen was popped off and she could breathe again. No point in keeping hiding, probably only make things worse. She scrambled out of the compartment and stretched for the first time in what felt like years but was only probably a few hours and then found herself with that big ol question of Well what the frak do I go bouts doing now? After all, she wasn't really a planned member of the crew and the planned members of such things often didn't take kindly to the unplanned sort but considering why they were all there maybe it'd be different? She could hope so. Yep.

  4. #4
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    Ben grinned tremulously. The Knightfall was a surprising joy to fly, though slower than the usual, even with upgrades to the hyperdrive (which was, other than certain cock-pit systems, the only thing he could make heads or tails of in a ship). Still, he'd kept his distance from the Rebel Alliance proper for near on five years, and he'd been happy with that.

    But all good things come to an end...

    With a glance to Cap'n Henning, he began manoeuvring the ship to dock with 'the Wheel.'

    "Bringin' her in, Cap'n," he announced, flipping a few switches to bring the sub-light engines to the lowest thrust. Another switch enabled in the ship's internal comm system.

    "We shall be arriving at our destination shortly. Please sit down and fasten any restraining devices so you don't fall and break something. Thank you for flying Knightfall Space, and we hope you'll choose to fly with us again. Have a nice day."

  5. #5
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    Lyanie stifled a giggle at Ben's announcement. He'd always managed to make her laugh, sometimes receiving a shot to one shoulder or another in turn, depending on the joke. It was good to be around such friends again. Under her supervision, the Knightfall's systems were running better than anyone else had initially expected. It was doubtful, but she shattered their expectations and it flew like a dream.

    Well, an old, beaten up dream. But she'd begun to think of this good ol' vessel as her girl. She leaned against a void in the bulkhead space of the cockpit and rubbed at that bulkhead, a fond smile on her face.

    "That's my girl." She said to herself, the words streaked with pride. She looked on as Ben began to get the big girl docked and crossed her arms, sighing happily. This was the life for her.

  6. #6
    Barton Henning
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    Whilst grins lit the faces of his crew, Barton remained quiet, grim. He had the impulse to check with Ben that the sensors were picking up the right frequency emissions from the ships ahead of them, or to confirm with Lyanie that the gun-turrets (however old they were) were prepped and ready for operation at a moments notice. In fact, the closer they drew towards the Valiant, the more tense Henning's posture became, his muscles bunched and nerves taut.

    Part of him wanted to try and count all of the ships that made up the Wheel, but there was no time for that yet. No time to wonder just how many Jedi were scattered throughout the convoy, or if any of those Jedi would know his name or face... Taking a breath, the Captain looked to his crew.

    “Well, this is it. We...”

    clang! – though his mouth was still open, no words came. Both eyebrows curved down into a puzzled frown and Henning's hand went to the blaster holster fastened around his hips. When he spoke again, his voice was low.

    “...you hear that?”

  7. #7
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    Ben tilted his head as the Knightfall lurched one final time. He may have not seemed it, but he was tense as well. Not nearly as much so as the Cap'n, but still, being this close to the Rebellion after so long was taking its toll.

    Standing, he stretched. "I heard it. Could have been something in the cargo bay, but I thought we'd strapped everything down. Want me to check it out?"

  8. #8
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    Atton rolled his eyes, shifting slightly in the out-of-the-way corner of the cockpit that he'd appropriated for himself. His stance was somewhat precarious, and probably would have sent him sprawling if anything were to go wrong, but he'd managed to push past his initial impressions of the pilot and had grown accustomed to his reasonable flying skills; comfortable enough to risk possible injury in the pursuit of a casual and nonchallant pose, anyway.

    Despite his respect for the pilot's flying abilities however, his level of intelligence did leave a little to be desired. "Of course it came from the cargo bay," he grunted with a hint of a sigh. "Its not like there's anything elsewhere that can fall over is there, y' frelling idget."

    His gaze flicked towards Henning; in particular to the hand that seemed to be straying towards his holstered weapon. A little of his casual attitude retreated; while the Captain did seem to be a little over-cautious at times, he had exhibited a particularly reliable sense for danger. Whatever Henning's instincts were telling him, it was probably wise to go along with them.

    "I vote the people with guns go check it out," he muttered, a hand subconsciously delving into his jacket and retrieving the small pocket blater that he stowed there. Which I guess includes me, he mused, silently.

  9. #9
    Barton Henning
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    A glance to the others, briefly holding Ben's gaze as they listened for another sound, and Henning nodded.

    “Atton, with me. The rest of you... mindful. Bring us in to dock as if everything is normal.”

    Flicking the holster clasp open with his thumb, Barton took his Bryar pistol to hand and gave its energy cell a quick once over, checking it was fully charged. It was, of course. Preparation was the watchword when it came to the Captain. Some thought him cautious, but he was rarely one to be caught off guard.

    With Kira in tow, he paced out of the cockpit and shot the man a glance as they neared the entrance to the cargo hold. The door would open at the touch of a switch, so Barton motioned with the muzzle of his pistol for Atton to stand by the access console whilst he himself covered the threshold, ready to train a shot on whoever – or whatever – was waiting on the other side of the door.

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    The hiss that occurred as the door to the cargo hold opened stopped her mid stretch, back bent all wonky like backwards with arms up over her head with fingers pointing up at the ceiling. Awwwkkkwaaarrddd. Though it was only made worse by the fact the two blokes on the other end of the doorjam were all keen on pointing blasters at her.

    The small red head blinked once, twice, and then the fingers on her right hand went and wiggled before she spoke up. "Uhhhmmm...hi."

    Grand opening.

    She sucked on her bottom lip for a moment or two that seemed like it just took forever and a half and then finally straightened herself up at full height, which just a hair shy of five feet wasn't much, and stopped making the sour face. Wasn't much else to be said at that point and so next thing she did was slowly make to shove her hands into the shallow pockets of the beat up coat and leave 'em there waiting for one of them gunslingers to say something probably not so nice.

  11. #11
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    Atton's eyebrow rose up his forehead with the steady progress of a seasoned climber. Initially, he'd figured that the Captain was being over-paranoid again, what with the whole 'hiding behind the door frame' routine. Sure, there could have been all manner of things that could have got tangled up in the cargo bay over their last few runs; rats, mynocks, even stow-aways... what he hadn't expected was the unorthadox position that they'd discovered their unauthorised passenger in.

    "Hi," he echoed in near disbelief, the disarmingly casual reaction to their arrival throwing his macho man-with-blaster act completely off the rails. Atton felt himself relax a little with the aim of his blaster, but the Captain beside him didn't seem nearly so easily relieved.

    Atton searched his mind for a possible explanation and snagged on one particularly optimistic one, helped along a little by those ellegant features and enchantingly dark eyes. Please, gods, he willed, to any divinity that might be listening, Let someone have thought it was my birthday this week.

  12. #12
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    Perhaps some errant divinity thought it was my birthday this week? Ben thought idly to himself as the final locks slid into place. Normally, Ben did not carry a side-arm while off the particular vessel he was flying, with some exceptions. Now, however, he wished that he'd been packing, as the curiosity about whatever had made that noise was gnawing at him. But one might ask then why Ben would have thought that it was his birthday if he had been hit by this particular stroke of bad luck.

    Ben had a 'tradition' of sorts of having unlucky birthdays.

    "After all, everything was strapped down in the cargo bay," he murmured out loud, and coincidentally bringing us all back on topic.

    He opened the shipboard comm system again. "Cap'n, docking procedures are finalised. We're all hooked up and ready see this place."

    Ben paused for a moment. "Are you, uh, alright?"

  13. #13
    Barton Henning
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    By graduations, Barton's pistol lowered. There was something disarming about the wide-eyed way the red-haired girl looked back at him. As the ships internal comms system buzzed to live with a burst of static, Barton lifted his aim once again, unwilling to let his guard down until he knew the full of what was going on.

    “Seems we've acquired another passenger, Ben,” the Captain answered, looking firmly at their new arrival. “What's your name and business, then?”

  14. #14
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    Well of course she knew the question was going to get asked but it didn't make it any easier to make the words come out and make any sense. Her hands shoved even deeper into pockets that probably would rip if she kept it up, but it seemed about all that could be done to contain the slight twisting back and forth her body had started to take hold. Couldn't be helped! Anyone else would have been just as fidgety if they'd been stuck up in a cramped little spot for way too long and then made to deal with the people you'd gone and wronged somehow.

    "I uhhh..." was all that came at first as eyes refused to look at the two men. Didn't go and help the one was all kinds of bright, but not too bright. Was like someone had thrown a dimmer switch on him. Made sense with him seeming a bit more grumpy about it all than the other guy too.

    "Well... 'm Cleo anna this is kinna my bus-in-ez....I guess. Jus' gettin from point A ta point B, ya know? Point B bein where the bright spots are cause that's what the hushed up peoples all whiserpin bouts. Annn...I know tis nah right I wen' an kinna just stole a spots 'ere but ah dun really have any kinna creds cause 'm not real good at makin 'em and stealin aint real right but guess that's kinna what I went and did anyways, huh?"

    She had to stop herself. All sorts of people had problems understanding her normally it seemed but here she was rambling off all nervous in that muddled up accent that no one really knew where she got and she knew if she kept it up her voice was going to squeak and that would just be awful. "I...I'm real sorry, can make it up to ya somehows. Aint the bestest within anythin techy-like but can go and follow directions all well 'nuff."

  15. #15
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    "There's not enough music in this galaxy," Ben murmured as he leaned back in the pilot's seat and looked out into the stars. Lowly the player began to sizzle and spit static. Without taking his eyes from the stars, he smacked the player once and it promptly settled down, the notes of an old tune floating out there.

    I'm spreading the news, I'm leaving today
    I want to be a part of it - Coruscant, Coruscant!...

    Ben sniffed a bit, cleared his throat, and rubbed his nose. "Mother loved this song," he sighed and turned the volume on the player up. With another sigh of general melancholic contentment brought his feet up to the console, reclining back and stretching out. The movement flipped the comm switch again, though he didn't realize it, and he began to hum the rest of the words in time with it, giving the rest of the crew an impromptu soundtrack to whatever they were doing. He was quiet at first, but soon he was singing along exuberantly to the voice of old Frank.

    "These little sector blues, are melting away
    I'll make a brand new start of it, in Coruscant, Coruscant!
    If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere
    It's up to you, Coruscant, Coruscant!"

  16. #16
    Barton Henning
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    Henning was not a menacing man, by anyones standards. He could set a scowl on his features like a pro, but it had more of a look of concern about it than threat. The sound of Ben's dulcet tones drifting over the comm-system didn't exactly make the Captain and Kira anymore intimidating.

    “When did you-”

    Brow and lips pinched for a moment in a faint wince, Henning caught his words with a breath as Ben's serenade continued. The song meandered on and waiting for an opportune pause seemed out of the question, so Barton merely spoke over the tune.

    “When did you come aboard? And where were you hoping to go?”

  17. #17
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    Cleo finally made her hands stop trying to bury themselves in her pockets and pulled them out, but then wouldn't you know it? They found themselves another use in covering up her mouth as she giggled. It wasn't at the one asking the questions, nope, she wasn't that sorts of mean. It was at the song, well, more at the guy singing along. And though she hadn't ever seen that one, Cleo decided right off that she liked him.

    So it was hard to bring her attention back to the lit-up one when he went about asking stuff again. And she really wanted to answer him so made herself do it even if part of her was really wanting to listen to the singing some more.

    "Smuggler's moon place is'uhm where I found you anna 'm not all kinna sure where I am now that you made with the findins of me...."

    Cleo had to force herself to stop fidgeting again, even if it was making things feel better. She went and smiled at the not-as-grumpy one again too, just because she hadn't really given him all sorts of times of day...or however that saying went.

    "And...and hopin to go where 'm hopin we are, whichin would be where all the others like...like... me...are. Though really am wishin they aren't all really like me cuz then that brings all sortsa proble'ms an...then they canna help me."

  18. #18
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    Though the packaging was attractive enough, the fact that the apparently contained psyche resembled something more akin to a child than anything that would have passed as legal on any world in the Republic, Empire, or otherwised civilized space severely hampered his ambitions towards premature celebration. Disappointment forging a slight scowl that his tinted glasses mostly hid, he shoved his blaster back into his jacket.

    Her virbal tirade was tough to follow, but at least the words that made it up were in a language he could understand, even if the pace and accent made things a little incomprehensible. He drank in her words, straining them through her mind in search of coherancy.

    A translation formed in his mind. Atton's eyes passed between Cleo and the Captain, skepticism and disbelief arching a brow. He sighed, shaking his head. "Far th' last twenty years, uy've been lookin far s'vivors of Order 66. Uy stumble on t' you buy accident -" He jerked his head vaguely in Henning's direction; "- nd wuyle w're on th' way t' meet up w' more o' your Jedi friends, we find another one lurkin' in our hold since Nar Shaddaa."

    He shook his head, eyes roaming the bay; his gaze settled on his droid, dormant and on charge in a tucked-away corner. He fixed her with a glare. "Y've not got any more Jedi in those storage comparments o' yours, have y' Katie?"

    Optical receptor blinking reluctantly on, Katie's head slowly rotated in the direction that the voice-recognised query had originated from. Processing the words slowly, she responded, in no uncertain terms that, Just because I'm programmed to obey your instructions doesn't give you the right to wake me up. Now sod off, and let me get back to sleep. Or at least, droidspeak to that effect.

  19. #19
    Barton Henning
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    “Jedi?”

    The word was still an oath to Henning, though he no longer flinched away from it. He eyed the girl in a new light, wondering if within the riddles of her speech was a confession that she had been drawn to the ship, to him. He hadn't ever gone looking for Jedi, excepting Mu, but they had found him regardless. He was yet undecided whether that had been more than blind chance.

    The shrill whistle of Katie's reply to Atton snapped Barton's awareness back to the present.

    “This isn't a Jedi ship,” he said, the conviction in his voice a surprise even to the Captain himself, as he held the girls awkward gaze.
    Last edited by Barton Henning; Oct 6th, 2009 at 11:52:24 AM.

  20. #20
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    She almost got distracted by the droid. Cleo liked droids, especially the astromech kind. But a small sheepish smile appeared slowly on her lips as she looked back from the grumpy guy to the guy who talked all funny and then back again.

    "Well...tha's kinna all sortsa plain, aintit? No such thing assa 'Jedi ship', they were all gone and done away with..."

    While she'd been rather cheeky with the first part of her comment the ending words somewhat trailed off and along with it seemed to go her rather optimistic little mood.

    "An...and 'm nah a Jedi...justa Cleo."
    Last edited by Cleo Némain; Dec 22nd, 2009 at 12:52:45 PM. Reason: oi Knightfallers! :p

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