A Fresh Start

[Michael Lorca]

Michael's eyes snapped open. He could feel as if a day's worth of pain rushed at him as soon as he regained conciousness. He slowly reached for the navigational console and held onto it as he pulled himself up. Michael threw himself into the pilot's seat, wincing as he did so. He looked around his ship with a grimace. It looked like Silent Pheonix took one hell of a beating and survived it like a champ. What was he running from? Michael couldn't remember. His memory was foggy in that area. He didn't want to know how much he hurt his head if that happened. He winced again when he shifted in the chair. Michael put a hand on his side and almost yelped. Damn. It was his blaster side. He must have landed on it when he fell. Michael hissed as a wave of headaches pounded in his skull. He put a gloved hand to his forehead to try and alleviate the pain. Once they passed, Michael pulled his hand back...and let out a soft gasp when he saw blood. Something must have struck his head hard enough to break some skin.

Michael looked out the cockpit and was surprised to see the swirling, white-blue corona of hyperspace. He must have had some time to set some coordinates before getting knocked out. What was he running from again anyway? Michael groaned when the memories came flooding back into his mind. That's right. He was fleeing from the Empire when they caught wind of the illegal goods he was smuggling. They didn't like that, so they sent TIEs to run him down and apprehend him. Michael had panicked and dumped the goods to cover him as he gunned the engines. The TIEs scored a few hits in order to disable him and his ship took some damage. Michael plugged in the coordinates to Lothal and when he had enough time, activated his hyperdrive. The TIEs chasing him shot the engines which caused the Pheonix to take a tumble before it vanished into the stars. What he didn't know, was that the coordinates were altered and that he was going to a completely different planet. And a different period of time.

The crimson haired boy leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. As he did so, his hand closed around the crystal that his mother gave him and prayed to the Force. Everything was going to be alright. He was going to get to Lothal, resupply, and find a safe place to get some rest. He had enough excitement and wanted some peace and quiet. The navi computer let out a noise to inform Michael that he was exiting hyperspace soon. He opened his eyes as the blue-white corona flashed back into normal space. The boy's eyes widened in shock. This wasn't Lothal. It was Geonosis. The last place he wanted to be.

 

[Tessai]

Golbah City, The Hub
Local Time: 1418 Hours

Monumental.

When Tessai was a much younger man, he thought the Walls of Orsa were the tallest structures ever. They rose higher than any building he had ever seen. They could cast a shadow over numerous houses and shops. No matter how far back he leaned, he could never see over the wall either. The...colossal passage of time opened Tessai's eyes to just how small those walls really were. And...just how small his understanding of the world had been. Up until recent history, the totality of his understanding was one planet. One world.

A blip amidst countless stars and countless peoples. His return into the waking world introduced him to technology. To metallic vessels that could move instantly between worlds. To metal humans of all shapes and sizes. To small boxes where voices could be projected. For the warrior, it was all the definition of jarring - but he challenged himself to adjust nonetheless. Thus, his desire to acclimate had taken him to Geonosis. Whilst Nim'harra settled herself and her calamities within the southern systems, he would figure out the nature of the dazzling vessels.

And what better place than the Capital City's own starport? For hours now, he sipped out of a canteen and watched the ships rise and land. He asked questions to those who disembarked and gained a...poor understanding of how the vessels worked. Most simply shrugged him off. Others threw half answers and went about their business. But, overall, Tessai was learning. And that was all he could ask for.

[member="Michael Lorca"]

 

[Mike V'Trechen]

Mike was at Geonosis trying to have a lightaber training with Geonosians. He turned around and saw a ship that just entered the atmosphere and figured that he could just check out who it was. Mike was already at the spaceport about to get a taxi. He decided to walk over to the pad, but Mike saw a man. Mike was curious who he was. Mike went to the man.

"Hello," said Mike. "Nice day to kill some Geonosains, huh? My name is Mike V'Trechen, what is yours?"

[member="Tessai"]

[member="Michael Lorca"]

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Pale fingers tapped across the datapad held in her left hand. "Remind the loaders not to look in the crate. If they ask why, I have forwarded you a video clip of the last people that failed to heed my warning. Be mindful, they their performance will degree for at least a week as they find it difficult to sleep from what is seen." Vytal's voice was bereft of emotion as she spoke. Simple instructions. Simple job. Simple consequences. But someone always had to be the one to think 'what do Witches know?' and do exactly what she said not to do.

A little life sprang to her eyes, however, at the sound of raised voices. The Mandragora drifted closer as she listened to a controller seek contact with a sudden arrival.

"Have the patrol craft guide our new friend to port. Unless you intend to have someone inspect the ship in space?" Here was a Dathomiri woman instructing galactic personages how to conduct business involving space. traffic. What an absolutely absurd situation. "Make sure our personnel is there to meet him, documenting who they are, where they're from, and what they're doing here. Scan the vessel for hidden cargo, and inspect the ship's identification code." Vytal didn't understand how they could tell it was 'ancient,' but if it was out of place -- maybe salvaged from a junkyard -- then they could verify and correct that. Assuming this new friend of theirs didn't end up thrown into a jail cell and interrogated to death.

Not that the Confederacy would ever.

Not as a matter of course, anyway.

The pad in her hand was handed off to another as Vytal regarded the visual display of their latest guest. A soft hum followed as a certain thoughtfulness overcame her in the moment. Others spoke to her in silence about this vessel being more than improperly documented or a threat to Geonosis. Something wrong, but not dangerous. Something lost. "I will meet them myself. Make sure that sensor crew is present and a security detachment ensures they don't leave without permission."

Tag: [member="Michael Lorca"] | [member="Tessai"] | [member="Mike V'Trechen"]​