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Thread: The White Phoenix

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    Closed 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."

  2. #2
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    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."

  3. #3
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    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."

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    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."

  5. #5
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    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."

  6. #6
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    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."

  7. #7
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    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."

  8. #8
    * * *


    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."

  9. #9
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    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.

  10. #10
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    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."

  11. #11
    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."

  12. #12
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    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."

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    "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."

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    "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?"

  15. #15
    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.

  16. #16
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    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.

  17. #17
    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

  18. #18
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    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.

  19. #19
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    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."

  20. #20
    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."

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