A Rising Tide

[Maia Halos]

The look she gave him was quizzical at best, 'are you bug-kark' at worst.

But before she could ask him if he'd ever even BEEN to Bastion, he had to keep talking and make it worse.

Every now and then, on small, rare occasions, Maia wished she had hands just so she could pinch the bridge of her nose and sigh. This was one of those moments.

If her manifestation in the Force had had a physical representation, it would have looked like someone plucking a small, dead thing up with thumb and forefinger in a way that very clearly showed they'd rather not be touching it at all. (Perhaps fortunately) there was nothing of the sort to see and the knife lifted off of his extended palm without comment. Was it going to ALWAYS be like this or would he calm the hell down and mellow out a bit with this whole thing?

Probably not, she realized a few moments later.

The knife floated in the air, an afterthought as he kept talking.

This.... was not going to work.

Fortunately, she had an out. Oh, she still needed to deal with him for a while longer, but there was still something she owed someone and honestly if this wasn't a double edged way of that last obligation she didn't know what was. Her master would be both proud and irritated once they realized.

"A day's journey from here, into the heart of the Empire."

A whole day with this man on a rather cramped vessel.

Joy.

And that answered that question. No, in fact, he had not, clearly, been to Bastion.

"You may change your song about it once you arrive." And with that she turned away from him. The knife floated in the air, following along like a kite on a string. "Come, we will return to my ship."

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

Eyes widened a little bit at the telekinetic display.

Oh, Byron knew her skill. Had seen the lightsabers flying around after all. But it was still very impressive. Telekinesis was a difficult skill. To actually use it as a substitute for arms? That truly did say something about her power. Not even a flicker of exhaustion from her. "It is amazing how you do that." He added conversationally over his shoulder, as they set off through the corridor. "Like magic, sweet chit. You have to be some sort of prodigy!"

A soft sigh, shaking his head, but smiling then.

"At the very least I have become the lackey of someone truly powerful. Morgan was a kid compared to you. Amazing. Absolutely fantastic."

Weird how all that praise?

It just rang hollow from him. No immediate true understanding. Just words in the wind, trying to fill a silence that seemed to be deeply uncomfortable to him. "Ah, yes, the 'Heart of the Empire'." Byron echoed with a knowledgeable nod. "-I have always wanted to visit the heart myself, you know? All that traffic, the people, culture. It must be amazing to live there."

A shrug there as they entered the hangar bay.

"I am not much of a singer honestly. Unless you want me to, then I am sure I can learn!"

Eyes briefly scanned the bay. Calmly taking in the wreckage, burning still, the bodies scorched and cut through clean. "-but yeah, like I said, always another thing to do. Never managed to visit the Heart, so I am thankful for the opportunity. That... is your... ship?" He didn't seem very impressed when he pointed at it. A quick glance to her. "Oh, it's wonderful. Looks very fast, mhmm."

"Do you want me to check its state before we go, Master?"

 

[Maia Halos]

She had always wished that her master had been more.... talkative. Friendlier? Not that she expected a friend amoung the Sith but when she had first come to them as a child, well. To say that she hadn't hoped that, in the depths of her ten year old soul would be a lie.

But right now it took all of her self control to not tell him to shut up.

It shouldn't irritate her. But Force above and below DID IT. Not merely the incessant talking but the fact that all he was doing at this point was making noise so their wouldn't be silence.

"Empty flattery is not a habit I would suggest," she said, voice flat as they walked. She heard the hollowness. She had no need for empty praise to bolster her ego and all it did was chafe.

One more way in which he annoyed her.

"Please, by the Force do not," she said heavily at his comment about singing. This was going to be a long trip back.

She could not say that it didn't occur to her to just kill him. But while she had no particular problem with killing in general, this one seemed.... wrong somehow. Maybe it was because she had already said she wouldn't. Maybe it was because it had been drilled into her that there were times killing was not only welcome but expected, and that there were times when it was a senseless waste and a mistake only a rabid animal would make.

Maybe it was because he was just so. Damned. Pathetic.

Maia blinked.

"My ship is fine."

Was that... a touch defensive?

True, it wasn't great. It was good for an acolyte. She had made several adjustments to it herself. But it was hers.... sort of.

And Maia didn't have much.

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

"Oh. I am... sorry?" Offered kinda surprised and maybe even deflated.

Why did it seem like Maia had just kicked a puppy?

A puppy that kept walking into walls, yes. But still. Shoulders sagging just a little bit. Silent for a moment there. It told a tale of its own, if body positions could tell tales. An I am trying to adjust to a shocking new situation. I understand I am not perfect. But there is only so much I can do. Being suddenly a slave. From there Byron remained silent. Not responding to the retort for the singing or anything else.

Only once Maia responded about the ship, did Byron nod.

"It is fine, Master."

Hands wringing against one another, until they walked up the ramp to her ship. His eyes kept scanning it though. Making notes of little details, but for now he kept that bubbling voice wanting to talk inside.

That was the strange thing though.

He wasn't talking.

But the things he wanted to say were practically wriggling under his skin. She could almost pick up on it. The undercurrent of his thoughts. Murmuring back and forth. ...oooh ahhh ... interesting ...sign choice... clean (approval there) ooooh is that a custom... and so forth. If there was any doubt that Byron was a forcer? This sealed it. The man's inner-voice struggling so hard to get through it was practically filtering into the ether.

They reached the cockpit and there Byron stood awkwardly at the entrance.

Not really knowing what to do with himself.

 

[Maia Halos]

Maia was neither a particularly gifted mentalist, nor a weak one. But one didn't have to be the once Voice of the One Sith to hear the subconscious scrabbling going on right on the surface of his mind. It was the sound of mynocks on the hull of a ship, or an empty holonet channel. Not drastically distressing but vaguely uncomfortable in a way difficult to pinpoint.

She wasn't sure which was worse.

Settling into the pilot's seat, one of the things he would notice is that the co-pilot's seat had been removed from this ship. It was not an individual fighter, the ship needed a copilot to work all of the systems. It became obvious in a minute however that it did no in fact need anything of the sort.

He started seeing switches flipped, levers shifted, buttons pressed. Maia didn't simply use the Force to make up for a lack of hands- she used it to greater affect, tracking the work of two people with telekinesis and her attention.

"This will take a few minutes," she murmured absently, focused on what she was doing. "There is a room you can store your things in, on the right back the way we came in."

The hatch was already closed and he saw the light for it go from green to red- sealed.

Her own room was across the corridor from the one she directed him to.

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

A flip switched.

Not just with her telekinetic powers, but in his mind.

The moment he saw what she was doing? "God fethin' damn that is cool." He gasps. Eyes WIDE. See, what before was just hollow praise? This was actual impressed shock. It pierced through the veneer that he projected. The image he was cultivating with her. This got back to his other self. The one carefully protected and hid. Because this right here wasn't just lightsabers waving around with Forms.

This was the real deal.

"Um, right, yes! Do you.... need... any help... probably not."

Rubbing his neck.

"I will be back in a bit..." Didn't leave immediately though. Kept straggling at the corridor and watched. The amount of finesse? It was worthy of a Master of the Force.

A Knight?

Something internally shifted there. As if a mental book-keeping was carefully corrected. It would take some time for him to return. He was careful with his stuff. Packed it back and then re-entered the cockpit. They had circled around the asteroid. Good route for hyperspace reversion. Clearly she didn't need his hel-

Just as Maia was about to *punch* it a yell.

"STOP, NO!" His hand moving to jerk her shoulder. "Oh thank feth..." once the procedure got cancelled. "That was almost our death. Sweet mother..."

Noticing her look then.

"Okay. So um. I forgot to share something with you.... and... it is *really* amazing. If I share it with you, okay okay. I *will* share it with you." That second killer look enough to break him. A cough, rubbing his neck there.

"How does a cloaked pirate frigate sound?"

 

[Maia Halos]

What slipped out there was genuine- not hollow and echoing but a moment of actual praise. Despite herself, and the situation as it had been developing in a way she felt not in total control of, a flicker of a smile moved across her lips. He couldn't see it where he was behind her. It was gone in a moment.

Her focus had to be on what she was doing. While she made it looks easy, it actually took the majority of her attention. What she could do with telekinesis was only limited by the number of things she could focus on at any given time. At first it had only been one thing at a time, but even that had been a triumph for her and she had pushed on, not discouraged by what someone else might have looked at as less than the loss she had to make up for. Now, with familiar enough actions, like piloting this ship, she could work up to five actions at a time if she stretched to her limits. For now though, she stuck with the four, a fifth unnecessary anyway.

Of course, they saw the fifth a moment later.

She didn't register when he left in truth. Indeed, she barely registered when he returned. Too much of her focus eaten up by this. It wasn't until his shout and hand on her shoulder that her attention whipped back.... along with that last sliver of action economy.

A lightsaber ignited and slashed through the air, arrested in a breath at his face.

For a heartbeat, and until his hand dropped away, the look she gave him wasn't merely irritated. In that look for a moment, he saw his death. Because beneath his hand he'd felt the tension of muscles that had nothing to do with strength or power. He felt the taut rigid lines of something else carried too long. So long that it had become second nature. The tension of teeth clenched and shoulders hunched.

"I'm listening."

Those words and the lowering of the saber came when he let go.

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

BLINK BLINK.

Hands went UP along his side. His breath held. Sweat starting to trickle down. "I am so sorry, I shouldn't have touched you." Byron quickly said. It had been stupid. So stupid. He should have known better. Only an hour ago she had cut through so many people. People who had never done anything to her directly.

It had just been a command by her Masters.

A step back there.

To give her as much room as possible, because wow yeah no. Once the danger cleared though? Byron gulped and nodded. "Captain Morgan had a cloaked frigate. We don't know how he got his hands on it. It is amazing, but..." A hesitant finger pointing to and through the viewport. "It's located right on our path."

Which said enough about his reaction there.

If he hadn't barged in yelling? They would have hyperspaced straight through the cloaked ship. They would be dead now. So dead. Super oh my god dead, in fact.

"I can show you the de-cloaking procedure. I sneaked a peek once. I don't think he ever knew I knew."

Wringing his hands there. Staying very clear from her and the panels.

That lightsaber still on his mind.

 

[Maia Halos]

"Never touch me."

She managed, barely, to not snarl it. Keeping that in check only just. Swallowing that back down to the fire in her stomach it belonged in, rather than unleashing it to burn the world around her.

His explanation covered why he had reacted the way he did. She could forgive that, and when the whole imminent demise thing came up, the saber snapped off completely. She gave him a single, curt nod. She didn't thank him. He was saving his self as much as her, after all.

She didn't take it personally.

"Is it something we can do from here or can you direct me to where we do?"

There was still the burn of bile at the back of her throat. Not just from the unwanted touch but because with her focus so tight on the cockpit she had been unable to pay attention to him as well. If he had done something else.... say brought that neat little pearl handled blaster back in with him.... he could have killed her there and she wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop him.

Stupid. Idiot. Worthless.

The words ping ponged around inside of her head.

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

Luckily Byron wasn't a mentalist.

If he had known the internal thoughts racing through Maia's head he wouldn't be long for the world. Instead the lad breathed a little bit easier. Responding to her curt nod with a relieved one himself. Death in her eyes and face.

A nightmare.

"Mhm, I need to input the decloak code in the comms system. We can do it from here."

Once she gave leave, he'd think back to that time. When Morgan had tapped in the code. Took him a moment to properly remember. "Yeah, okay. I got it now." If she let him, Byron would use the comms to send the all-clear signal.

If not? It would just be explained to her.

Either way.

Once that was done?

A big ripple appeared through space. From one moment to the next, a large frigate shifting into existence. It almost hummed with its presence. Lights flickering from viewports. The exhaust vents shedding heat.

"Morgan's ship." Byron breathed out. Her expertise in the Force forgotten for a moment in the face of that. "He never did tell us how he got his hands on it..." One thing was for sure though. It wasn't a pirate ship. Oh, it was worn. Had some damage here and there. Rust too. But underneath that? It had nothing of a pirate's character. Not haphazardly held together by duct-tape and prayers.

It was something more.

 

[Maia Halos]

Knowing what he was doing, she eased back in the chair. Her eyes never left his hands, the code he was tapping into the system. If she had thought for even a moment it was anything but what he said, he would have died there, in pieces on the floor. She recognized that she was more on edge than she had been before, the reminder stark and bleak.

Stupid. She'd been careless.

"It doesn't matter," she said, though as it had appeared, rippling out from the darkness, her eyes had gone from his hands to the ship before them. "It doesn't matter how he got it."

She leaned in slightly, absorbing the lines of it. A warship. Small, yes. But perfect.

Her heart ached with want.

This wasn't a small skiff, for zipping about in. This was more.

"Tell me how to get in."

With his instructions, she maneuvered the smaller ship around. Codes to open up the hangar bay doors. To shut down the automated defenses. Until they were stepping off of her ship and onto this one.

"Does she had a name?" Murmured softly, looking around.

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

"I suppose you are right." Byron said to mollify. Truthfully he wondered how she couldn't be curious. Just look at the ship! It was obviously Imperial in nature, sleek and beautiful in ways that pirate ships almost never were. Usually a pirate ship was a hot mess. Garbage, really. Cobbled together over the years. Held together by the owner's hopes and prayers.

This?

This was the real deal.

It was the main reason why their pirate band had continued on for as long as they had. Difficult to catch something you can't see. Of course, Byron wasn't going to just SAY that, right? Like. She had almost killed him right there and then. Just because his hand had touched her shoulder. Yeah, no.

No sense in risking that.

"The Eyrie," Byron murmured almost reverently. Finger tips brushing the clean walls as they walked. Brushed metal. Lights lighting up the moment they stepped into a corridor. "Though I always assumed Morgan got that from somewhere else. Not exactly the most poetic mind, y'know?" A wide lazy grin there. "N-not that it matters, of course, I am sure you have a better name for it."

An inclination of the head there.

Very respectful.

It didn't take long (an elevator or two, rounding the corridors, up the stairs) until they reached the bridge. It hummed with activity by the time they arrived.

"We usually need about five or six people to run this, but..." Eyes nervously went to the lightsabers on her. "I suppose that won't be an issue for you, my Master."

 

[Maia Halos]

It didn't matter where this Morgan had gotten it because now?

It was hers.

She couldn't remember the last time she wanted something so badly it ached. This ship was perfect in every way. Not too big, not too small. Sleek and silent and deadly. A dagger in the darkness.

"The Eyrie is a good name," she murmured absently. Would she change it? She wasn't worried about that right now.

She paused in the door to the bridge, her eyes sweeping the small glittering lights and lines. Yes, this was a ship meant for a bridge crew. Could she do it alone? Perhaps with practice yes- yes for certain with practice. But not yet.

A slow shake of her head.

"I cannot do that many, not yet," she said, though her tone made it very clear that the yet was deeply relevant. She would do it, but not today.

Her glance turned sidelong towards him for a moment, regarding. There was not the appreciation, the near reverence in the gaze that had been directed at the ship, but there was a weighing that hadn't been there before.

"Which processes are you familiar enough to take the seat for?"

[member="Byron Flint"]

 

[Luca Caldogne]

[member="Maia Halos"]

A surprised glance towards her.

He had been expecting her to change the name without a doubt. That's what Sith did. Put their own brand on things. Stamp it. Burn it in. So that nobody could ever mistake it for someone else's. In those moments it didn't matter, if they liked or didn't like a thing personally. No, it was about the perception of things. A Sith couldn't be seen as cow-towing to their lessers.

Domination.

Et all.

"It is quite good, agreed." Byron agreed softly, before looking away again. Towards the bridge and the many panels there. This wasn't a cruiser, nor even one of the larger frigates, but it was no freighter. It needed at least half a dozen sentients to run it. Hell, slightly more if the frigate wanted to work optimally.

"Oh..."

When she said that and then asked him what he could do.

Well, wasn't Maia full of surprises today? Maybe Byron should adjust parts of his expectations. When it came to Sith anyway. "I was always good at mapping and jumping, also tracking and gunnery." A light shrug there. "Morgan made us do each part in rotation. Make sure every one of us knew at least the basics." Since then nobody was essential, besides him.

So if one of them died or got killed?

Not a big loss.

"I will handle any aspect that you desire, my Master." Bowing deeply there to her. No spine at all.