Spek Zhio
Freelance Spacefarer
The hum of hyperspace, as modulated by the aural sensor of the retrofitted YT-1930 Azure Alcyone, was the mantra to his deep-state meditation.
Naked, cross-legged on the alusteel floor of the starboard cargo bay, Spek Zhio reached out with his mind at the gravitational threads of realspace. The purring engine drives sent vibrations through the titanium-chromium alloy that loosened his muscles, like a gentle kneading massage would. The cold of the vacuum seeped into his body, but only to such an extent as allowed by his control over tapas - a force technique allowing for the heat in it to be retained.
The male Zeltron had the broken down temperature module of the ship's life support systems, to thank for the cold. However, not only was that not of any concern to him, it actually helped him slow down his metabolic rate and focus on instinctively astrogating the cosmos - given that a navicomputer was another thing lacking from the Alcyone.
Nevertheless, having set a path through the Koros Trunk after their previous jump on Empress Teta, all the way to its terminus on Coruscant, the navigator had no need to be on the lookout for any complications during this last short leg of their journey. The Koros Trunk Line was a well-known and traveled hyperlane of the Core. Therefore, the impact of galactic drift and gravitational muddying was rather non-existent - and, had it occurred ever so slightly, it was nothing that the exorbitantly wealthy political and industrial powers of the Core Worlds could not fix, with a few well-positioned S-thread boosters.
Instead, the pilot was undergoing his ritual practice, purely as a means to push back on the anxiety of heading towards The Jewel of the Core Worlds, itself. More precisely, to the Jedi Temple within.
Opening his eyes, he braced for the tug of jumping out of hyperspace, made gentler by the inertial compensators - still fully functional, by the way! The yellow lights along the walls were rhythmically flashing, as they did when the cargo bay doors were lowered for loading and unloading, or when Alcyone wanted to tell him something.
"I know, Alcy," getting up and stretching his body, he answered the ship's computer. "We've arrived."
There was no point in trying to conceal his Force presence. The Jedi who hired him, knew he was Force sensitive and a former Padawan. In their weird way, maybe that was why they had chosen him to smuggle ambori fluid across a blockade. One of those that were set up due to this or that conflict, of which Zhio knew or cared nothing about. At least, not in the sense of paying attention to who were the good or the bad guys this time around, and concerning which lines in the sand were they fighting over. He did care about the little people who frequently got trampled underfoot.
He was not one to refuse a request such as this. Not when given a decent pay and the chance to help those in need, even if his employers were... these cultists.
On his private quarters after a quick shower, the man was already clothed and wearing his long red coat with gold embroidery, concealing his energy pistol and a third of the length of his longsword, both strapped to his left waist. Inside the pouch on the opposite side, were his two lightsabers. He patted himself to make sure that nothing was missing, and ran both hands through his damp auburn hair, combing it with his fingers. Finally, he secured his pheromone bracelet on the right wrist, and distributed a selection of half-a-dozen rings of several shapes and sizes among the fingers on both hands. Spek was now ready to go out.
"Alcy, open both cargo doors, please," he asked of his ship. With a beep-bop of the panel controls, she acquiesced.
He was not expecting trouble, but he would have felt naked without his full gear.
Squinting while exiting through the port-side bay - one of two, aft of the freighter - he made sure that his jumpspeeder was not in the way of the crates expected to be taken out. Taking in a long, deep breath of fresh air, Spek leaned back against the durasteel hull. Patiently waiting for whoever it was that they were sending to retrieve the shipment, and pay him for it.
Aiden Porte
Naked, cross-legged on the alusteel floor of the starboard cargo bay, Spek Zhio reached out with his mind at the gravitational threads of realspace. The purring engine drives sent vibrations through the titanium-chromium alloy that loosened his muscles, like a gentle kneading massage would. The cold of the vacuum seeped into his body, but only to such an extent as allowed by his control over tapas - a force technique allowing for the heat in it to be retained.
The male Zeltron had the broken down temperature module of the ship's life support systems, to thank for the cold. However, not only was that not of any concern to him, it actually helped him slow down his metabolic rate and focus on instinctively astrogating the cosmos - given that a navicomputer was another thing lacking from the Alcyone.
Nevertheless, having set a path through the Koros Trunk after their previous jump on Empress Teta, all the way to its terminus on Coruscant, the navigator had no need to be on the lookout for any complications during this last short leg of their journey. The Koros Trunk Line was a well-known and traveled hyperlane of the Core. Therefore, the impact of galactic drift and gravitational muddying was rather non-existent - and, had it occurred ever so slightly, it was nothing that the exorbitantly wealthy political and industrial powers of the Core Worlds could not fix, with a few well-positioned S-thread boosters.
Instead, the pilot was undergoing his ritual practice, purely as a means to push back on the anxiety of heading towards The Jewel of the Core Worlds, itself. More precisely, to the Jedi Temple within.
Opening his eyes, he braced for the tug of jumping out of hyperspace, made gentler by the inertial compensators - still fully functional, by the way! The yellow lights along the walls were rhythmically flashing, as they did when the cargo bay doors were lowered for loading and unloading, or when Alcyone wanted to tell him something.
"I know, Alcy," getting up and stretching his body, he answered the ship's computer. "We've arrived."
Jedi Temple
Coruscant, Coruscant System
Corusca Sector, Core Worlds
Local Time : 14:00
Local Weather : Fair. Partial cloud cover. No precipitation.
There was no point in trying to conceal his Force presence. The Jedi who hired him, knew he was Force sensitive and a former Padawan. In their weird way, maybe that was why they had chosen him to smuggle ambori fluid across a blockade. One of those that were set up due to this or that conflict, of which Zhio knew or cared nothing about. At least, not in the sense of paying attention to who were the good or the bad guys this time around, and concerning which lines in the sand were they fighting over. He did care about the little people who frequently got trampled underfoot.
He was not one to refuse a request such as this. Not when given a decent pay and the chance to help those in need, even if his employers were... these cultists.
On his private quarters after a quick shower, the man was already clothed and wearing his long red coat with gold embroidery, concealing his energy pistol and a third of the length of his longsword, both strapped to his left waist. Inside the pouch on the opposite side, were his two lightsabers. He patted himself to make sure that nothing was missing, and ran both hands through his damp auburn hair, combing it with his fingers. Finally, he secured his pheromone bracelet on the right wrist, and distributed a selection of half-a-dozen rings of several shapes and sizes among the fingers on both hands. Spek was now ready to go out.
"Alcy, open both cargo doors, please," he asked of his ship. With a beep-bop of the panel controls, she acquiesced.
He was not expecting trouble, but he would have felt naked without his full gear.
Squinting while exiting through the port-side bay - one of two, aft of the freighter - he made sure that his jumpspeeder was not in the way of the crates expected to be taken out. Taking in a long, deep breath of fresh air, Spek leaned back against the durasteel hull. Patiently waiting for whoever it was that they were sending to retrieve the shipment, and pay him for it.
Aiden Porte
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