Blind Spot

[Juwiela Melec]

Onderon, unmarked spaceport​

​

Sparks flew from beneath the Yavin-class fighter currently situated in an only half-full spaceport on the planet of Onderon, the Republic's capital. Where exactly she was located was of no concern to Juwiela at the moment, the entirety of her focus being immersed in fixing up her starfighter. Not that anything was truly broken, per se. In fact, most that laid eyes on the fighter would have claimed that it looked to be in working condition. However, there were a few issues with that. One was that this ship had seen more live combat than most would think. The second was that she didn't exactly have eyes, so what something looked like was of no concern. How it flew was another matter altogether, and one that most certainly drew her attention.

In the weeks previous she had noted anomalies in just how the vessel felt from the cockpit, and only now found the time to devote to actually repairing them. And despite her lack of physical sight, she was doing fairly well at accomplishing just that. Her ethereal senses told her everything functioning eyes would have otherwise communicated, had she been granted them at birth, and that was well enough. The rest was merely a matter of guessing and checking, as she was far from a trained mechanic. Most of the work done similar to this was a process of trial and error, and though she had learned the inner workings of her personal starfighter intrinsically in the past few years, there were still those aspects that served to surprise her no matter what.

Thankfully, she had always had a knack for dealing with the unexpected. As a fighter pilot, that was in her job description. So she only continued working on this minor project, the only sign that anyone was actually at work being a few muttered curses every now and then accompanied by the lower half of her legs protruding from beneath the ship where it was currently raised up just high enough for her to fit. A common sight in a place such as this, no doubt, and nothing about the situation immediately pointed her out as a member of the Rebel Alliance. Even if she was recognized, it wasn't as if much would come of things. This was a Republic world, and for the most part she was surrounded by friendly faces. That meant no bounty hunters or similar ilk, hopefully.

With a moderately resigned sigh she pushed herself out from beneath the fighter, standing and stretching in order to work the kinks from her muscles that had inevitably formed after an hour or more in nearly the same position. It was only when one got a look at what she was wearing did her loyalties come into question. With the flight jacket she wore that had the Rebel Alliance emblem emblazoned on the back with 'I survived Geonosis' embroidered below it and numerous patches scattered about the piece of clothing, it was more than obvious that she was some operative of the same Rebellion that had been busy terrorizing the Sith of late. But she wasn't just any member of the resistance group. She was none other than Rogue Leader, commander of the elite Rogue Squadron.

Right now, however, she was just another soldier who was looking for some sort of brief recompense from the war. And so she set off into the city in search of just that.

[member="Pappy"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Onderon had been a place of great speculation and observation lately. Between the Republic shifting capitals once more, the recent assassination of the King of Onderon, and the general wartime conditions, most of the major cities and starports had become homes to entire regiments of marines and their brothers in the stars. Particularly, this world had become the newest home of the Dreadguard. The Vongformed, cybernetically enhanced soldiers of the Republic. Most of the remaining three hundred Dreardguard lived lives of struggle and despair.

They were created to be perfect at one thing: war.

Marcus Foster lived and breathed combat. His whole body, mind, and soul had been altered to cater directly to it. His muscles were made of rybcoarse, his heart was artificial, and the rest of his physical being had been taken away from him to allow him to do nothing but strike back against the Sith. To gain penance for what they did.

"Hey, wake up. We've got places to be."

The Dreadguard had been sound asleep within his barracks. It was one of those times when he could take his armor completely off without worrying about becoming ill or succumbing to the effects of gravity. A skin-tight undersuit was all he wore right now, with his artificial companion shouting at him from his computer terminal.

"If you don't get up right now, I think I'll go find myself another man. One with bigger muscles and a bigger d-"

Marcus groaned, "God save me. It's like eight in the morning."

The pale-skinned AI giggled as the man arose from his cot and began to meticulously put on each piece of his armor. "I swear. One day I'm gonna have you guys improve my immune system as much as you did the rest of me. I hate wearing this thing all damn day."

"Deal with it. It's not like you look any better without it." She teased.

He shot her a look before pulling his helmet on and then placing a hand on the computer terminal, transferring her from it to his suit.

"Let's go for a walk."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

One thing Juwiela noticed as she wandered the streets of the planet was the sheer amount of people that surrounded her. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen or been around another sentient in her life, but most of her time was either spent on this or that base or up in the air. The only others she kept company with were those few members of the Rebel Alliance and their allies. To be around more than the number within a typical squadron (which was twelve, thank you) was a slightly disorienting experience. Thanks to her way of seeing, which was arguably more efficient than most, she was privy to much more than what was simply visible on the surface. Sensory overload within large crowds wasn't an entirely unusual experience.

But it wouldn't do well for her to constantly have to avoid crowds for the entirety of her life, and so she had adapted, much like she did to everything else, learning when to tune out the majority of what information was relayed to her via the Force. Most of it was useless anyway, and besides, she was more worried about finding something to eat rather than determining every detail of the person that happened to be walking in front of her right down to the exact number of midichlorians in their bloodstream. Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but still. The point was that she had better things to devote her time to, even if others didn't exactly see things her way. Not that they would ever really be able to.

It turned out that this early in the morning there were few street vendors about, so instead she opted for dropping by a diner before moving on, walking as she ate, sandwich in one hand and caf in the other. After all, she had to get her energy from somewhere. It wasn't as if she was exactly afforded much spare time to catch up on sleep. Any sort of sleeping schedule had been forgotten the moment she enlisted in the Rebel Alliance Navy. Why anyone else would choose to be up so early of their own volition was beyond her. Those not enlisted in the war effort really took their everyday luxuries for granted. Then again, she had to remind herself that she was fighting for people just like this, so they could continue not to have a care in the world.

The man walking in the opposite direction as she was most certainly not a civilian. Not that she could exactly see him, even with her own brand of sight. That brought to mind one term. Force Dead. Not exactly a new variable for her to encounter, but one that was still alien and a touch disconcerting, causing her pace to slow just slightly as she observed him. Most everyone in the galaxy was attuned to the Force in some sense, even if they weren't sensitive in the classical use of the word. To find someone entirely void of the energy field that bound most beings together was a rarity, and in some fields spoke to a certain eliteness. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a Republic soldier. He wouldn't have gotten this far otherwise.

Well, now her curiosity was piqued, and she had found something to distract her from the always present threat of invasion by the Sith. It wouldn't do well to simply walk right up to the man and strike up conversation right out of the blue, so she simply settled for observing from a distance for the moment. Not explicitly staring, as she could watch him without even turning her head. She did, however, stop in her walking and lean up against the wall of a nearby building so that she might better study his presence, or where he would have been, had she been able to see him. It seemed that even the Republic was inclusive of its own sort of oddities. Not that a blind pilot was exactly normal.

[member="Pappy"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

The bustling starport seemed to stop and gape at Marcus. It wasn't just because he was wearing armor, it was because of how big he was. He stood three inches over six feet, carried around a gait of over two hundred and twenty pounds, and the armor and weapons on his form caught more than enough wary glances. Children openly gaped at the commando, shady looking individuals glared at him, and even more simply stiffened in the presence of a Republic soldier.

This place had already become a garrison and it wasn't uncommon to see uniformed soldiers making their rounds. However, when one was armored from head to toe and armed to the teeth, it garnered as much attention as a naked man in the streets would.

"See any cute girls?" Miranda cooed at all of the attention he was getting. "Or how about any guys?"

"Stow it, lass. I'm out here because you wanted me to get up and move around." The Dreadguard glanced around, eyeing a few people who were staring at him. It wasn't like they could see his gaze but the T-visored helmet made him look more droid than man. "I feel exposed."

Miranda was looking around as well. "You look hungry. Why don't you grab something to eat?"

The Dreadguard nodded to himself. "That sounds good." And with that, he went off.

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

At least he drew all the attention away from her. The typical sideways glances Juwiela would have received were now null thanks to his presence, and that was really the only saving grace she could think up thus far. Still, she couldn't help but sympathize, having experienced similar reactions to her lack of eyes, though none quite as blatant as this. Really, she couldn't see what the big deal was, even if she couldn't physically see him. From what details she was allowed it seemed as if he was wearing some sort of armor, with weapons to boot, but even a fully armored soldier wasn't a strange sight for her. You'd think people would adjust quickly after the assassination that had taken place recently.

No matter her opinion she merely stood by as everything unfolded, acting as if this were just another typical day for her, which in a way it was. Most only watched him as he passed, going about their business once they deemed it safe to do so, a few having melted into the crowd the moment any Republic military came into sight. In her own way she watched him as well, only turning to follow once she had nearly lost track of him among the wealth of Force signatures that threatened to blot out his lone void within the ethereal. But something like that was never truly invisible, at least to one that saw in the manner she did. Whether he liked it or not he would always stick out, at least to her.

Crumpling the wrapper of her sandwich she threw it into a nearby trashcan, stifling a quiet yawn and beginning to sip at her caf in the hopes of waking up. Being half-asleep was no good way to make an impression, assuming she ever actually spoke to this guy. Following someone wasn't the greatest way to learn about another, and in the end all it did was kill time until a face-to-face conversation was eventually initiated. But one could learn a lot about another simply by the way they walked. That would have been the excuse she would have used, at any rate, had he not been all but invisible to her. Maybe being Force Dead did have its benefits. Too bad she wouldn't be able to see.

Tugging at the edge of the jacket she wore, her pace slowed once more when the man entered a diner or some similar establishment. Well, there went keeping with her anonymity for just a bit longer. It figured that she wouldn't even be allowed time to watch him for awhile longer before approaching, but nothing said she would do that even now. He was an object of curiosity, not concern. And so, cradling her still-warm caf in her hands she stepped inside, taking a seat at one of the back booths, slouching slightly in her chair, allowing herself to settle in only slightly. This wasn't exactly the day she had planned for herself, but it was better than constantly getting shot at, at any rate.

[member="Pappy"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Pappy caught whiff of whatever was following him moments after he'd stepped off. Blindly (pun) following someone, especially a commando, wasn't ever the easiest thing to do. Not when he had cybernetics and an artificial intelligence unit monitoring him from a 360 degree radius.

"Someone's taken a liking to us, y'know. Care to introduce ourselves?"

Marcus didn't even want to look back. Breaking his cover and spotting whomever it was didn't even sit on the realm of being a good idea. "Let's grab a little something to eat first, maybe they're hungry too. Can't hurt, especially with the war going on and everythin' being rationed." It wasn't like the man to even speculate options such as that, but the war really was changing. It wasn't just fleet and armies anymore, it was composed of normal, real people who supported it all from their own homes. Some of them didn't even have homes anymore and they still gave everything they had.

Miranda flashed kissy lips at him. "You're such a sweet gentleman. Gonna buy me something to eat to?"

"No."

The AI snickered at his reply as he strode into one of the diners that didn't seem so packed. The Dreadguard strode in and removed his helmet, as per the mannerisms of a polite man. Tucking his bucket under his arm, he sat at the bar and glanced to back at the door just as a young girl entered with a blindfold on.

"That's who's been following us."

Marcus stole another look at her. Is she blind? She's walking completely fine.

Once the subject of interest retreated into the back with her cup of stim-caf, Pappy stood up and crossed the entire restaurant to meet her. The Sergeant Major made no intent to speak whatsoever, merely sliding into the seat before her and setting his helmet on the table.

"You've been following me." Marcus said, yawning. "Why?"

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

"Hello to you, too." An offhanded comment made with only the slightest of smiles burgeoning on her lips. Despite not exactly having seen him approach Juwiela was nearly completely at ease with his sudden presence, having picked up on his movement through the simple sound of his footsteps as he crossed the room. Blind she may have been, at least when it came to someone like him, but she wasn't entirely sightless. But if he chose to underestimate her, that was just as well. "Most people are nice enough to make introductions before they start interrogating me. Of course, the last guy didn't." Almost casually she leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, the last two fingers on her right hand that were cybernetic wholly, and intentionally, visible, along with the scar from a stab wound that went through that same hand.

Taking her time in replying, she took another sip of her caf before setting it to the side, managing to look directly at him despite not having eyes. "It's not every day I find someone I can't see. Being Force Dead is more of a rarity than you might think." There was but one other individual she had encountered in her twenty years of life that shared that same trait, and this encounter was already far more pleasant than that had been. At least he was happy to settle for simple questions and nothing more. "And I'm not a civvie, so you don't have to talk to me like one. We're playing a bit of the same game, I think." Maybe not in the same way, but they shared a common enemy when one got right to the bottom of things.

For a moment she played at being sighted, raising an eyebrow and looking up him and down as if she could actually make out any of his features, something altogether impossible, even with the Force. Sometimes it was amusing enough to simply make others question her sensory abilities. No one ever said she was an all-around nice person, and in fact she was more than a little rough around the edges. "I have a better question. Why let me follow you when you had no idea who I was or what I was capable of? I'm sure I had a few chances to kill you back there, not that I was paying much attention to that." Never in her life had she killed another in such a manner, but it was a worthwhile enough point to make. No doubt he would have a short and concise response.

Yawning quietly, she reached up to swipe a strand of hair away from where her eyes would have been, had she not had empty, fleshed-over sockets currently covered by a blindfold in place of them. "Name's Juwiela Melec, by the way. Maybe you've heard of me?" That was a half-serious statement, given the reception the Rebel Alliance had been receiving lately. And, well, they did more or less work with the Republic now. That gave her a better chance of being recognized, though she wasn't counting on it. There were hundreds of others that made up the military, more than enough to allow one pilot to go unnoticed. Reaching up with a hand she fidgeted with the covering about her eyes for a moment, eventually pulling it away. "And yeah. I'm blind."

[member="Pappy"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Rough around the edges?

"I like her," Miranda chortled, "Seems like your type. Y'know, sassy and straightforward."

Her voice came out of the helmet so there was no doubt that Miss Melec heard such a ballsy comment. Marcus himself sighed and ran a hand over his fresh buzzcut before resting his armored limbs upon the table. Juwiela Melec. Now that was a name he'd heard before. Leader of the famed Rogue Squadron and one of the best pilots they'd ever had - especially noting the fact that she was indeed blind.

"I've heard your name once or twice, Miss Rogue Leader. You do some fine flyin' for our side." He almost reached out his hand for her to shake when he realized she wouldn't even notice it. "I'm gonna assume you're some Jedi or something since you can tell that I'm a hole in your little magical realm. That's also confidential information so I'll have to kill you if you tell anyone that I'm the way I am."

Marcus snorted happily and flagged the waitress for a cup of stimcaf.

He took a sip and introduced himself, "My name is Marcus Foster, Sergeant Major of the Republic Defense Forces. Special operations and whatnot." Another sip. "My boys call me Pappy because I'm the oldest."

"You've got a dad gut too."

He ignored the AI.

"So," he started, "Why did you follow me?"

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

A half-smile and a quiet laugh was her only immediate response, though it wasn't evident as to whether she found amusement in all the AI had to say, or his comment about not telling anyone about his being Force Dead. Regardless, they shared something of the same sense of humor, and that was enough. Most people didn't know how to joke anymore. To find someone that still retained a lightheartedness about things was a rarity by itself. Sometimes that was the only thing that kept soldiers sane in the middle of war. "I'm sure you've heard great things about me." That was an undoubtedly sarcastic statement made as she once more tied the blindfold over empty sockets. "Most everyone wants us out of the picture, after all."

Her hands rested on the table, and Juwiela merely shook her head. "A Jedi? Not exactly. I just use the Force to see. With you being Force Dead, you're just a void." She gestured in his general direction. "Empty space. I can tell where your armor is, which gives me a good idea of where you are, but that's about it. You're not the greatest at being quiet, so I can hear you loud and clear anyway. Sight isn't an issue." Whatever harshness might have been interpreted was undermined by the casual smile she still wore. It was nice to just talk to someone for once, as a person rather than a commander within a larger military. To simply be treated normally was a relief in and of itself.

"Suppose I don't have to tell you then, but I'm Commander of the Rebel Alliance Starfighter Corps. A lengthy way of saying that our flyboys and girls don't get off the ground without my go-ahead. Can't say we've done anything particularly spectacular so far, but we've managed to keep our fine friends in the Sith busy, at least." Of course, that was the fun of it. Unfortunately she had found thus far that not many enemy pilots were up to the same standards the Alliance abided by, something that was at the same time disappointing and comforting. It meant none of them would be getting shot down anytime soon, at least. "And, kill me? You'd have to learn how to fly first. Don't worry, you wouldn't see me coming anyway." Was that a pun and a challenge at once? Most certainly.

The final question posed she had already given something of an answer for, in her own mind. But it wasn't as if repeating herself would necessarily hurt anything. "I followed you because I couldn't see you. As strange as that might sound, given the general requirements for actually following someone. To someone that sees like me, you stand out. A lot. You're a bit difficult to miss in a crowd, even without the armor." Not that she was any less conspicuous, given her obvious lack of both physical eyes and sight. "And you never did answer my question about letting me follow you. Most people tend to be a bit more confrontational. We're in the middle of a war, after all."

[member="Pappy"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

This girl was equally determined to getting an answer out of him. Why, on this beloved world, had a special forces operative allow some blind flygirl to follow him? Perhaps it was a little curiosity, perhaps it was for a bit of early morning amusement, and perhaps he really didn't notice the blindfolded girl trailing him in the middle of a damn bazaar.

"I'm not quiet now because I don't have to be." He was almost done with his cup of caf, "And I'm a big boy - big boys tend to make big messes."

She went on about how he stuck out in the crowd. She detailed how she could feel the very armor he wore though inside of it was just some sort of empty hole, some empty hole of a man who'd been taken away from everything he knew and turned into a finely chiseled weapon poised to tear the Sith apart. It was all he ever lived for nowadays and even simple, calm moments like this made his skin crawl. He wanted to get back out in the fight.

"I let you follow me because I was simply curious as to who you were, and if you wanted to sit down and have a cup of caf with me." Marcus smiled and downed the rest of his drink. "And flying isn't my thing, shortcake. I'm much better if my boots are on the ground and I've got a nice piece of kit in my hands."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

One shoulder lifted in a shrug as Juwiela finished the rest of her caf. "Yeah, and I'm a small, blind girl. Doesn't mean I still won't royally kark up your day if you cross me or mine." That retaliation often took the form of this or that attack run, assuming it was one of their larger adversaries. Personal offenses were another matter. No one had ever deemed her a mature individual, and she wasn't above a prank or two, if just to lighten the mood amongst her fellow Rebels. But for the most part she was just a soldier doing her job. "And I'll wager that I can top any mess you've made on the battlefield tenfold. Bombs tend to do that." Well, that and laserfire. Both tended to do their jobs rather well.

Now it seemed she was finally fully awake, at least after a cup of caf. That would have to do for now, as any real sleep wouldn't be achieved at the rate this war was going. At least it meant she would be coherent for this conversation. It was the little things, at this point. "So you let me follow you for the exact reason why I was interested in the first place. At least we have something in common." Well, that and their desire to tear down the Imperials and reinstate an actual government into the galaxy. Whatever 'Dark Lord' the Sith believed in, their government was of the most corrupt sort she had seen in a long time. And that was saying a lot, considering she was blind.

"Oh, c'mon, flying's easy. It's being a good pilot that's the game changer. Could show you the sims sometime and see what you can do there. Not that I would go easy on you at all." Well, she was Rogue Leader, after all. In her experience with the Alliance Navy, most were suited to pilot in some respect. Not many, however, were capable of keeping the same calm on the battlefield. "And it's funny you say that, because ground warfare isn't my thing. Tried it a few times, and it wasn't the greatest. Shooting guns isn't anything once you've been in the cockpit of a starfighter. I'll take turbolasers any day." That was the name of the game, in her life.

And, c'mon, she wasn't that short, was she? It was commonplace among pilots to be shorter than average, if just because of the general close quarters faced when it came to the cockpit. It was better than being tall, in her mind. At least she could fit most places without standing out while doing so. Was it something of a small thing to concern herself with? Perhaps, but it was better than worrying about constantly trying to avoid to get shot down. "I'd rather be short than tall. At least I don't have to lug all that armor and those guns around." A crooked smile spread across her face, the only sign that she was entirely joking. It was nice to have a chance to relax around someone.

[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

Bombs, lasers, orbital strikes, none of that really worked against the Sith. They used their magical powers and glowsticks to bat away whatever their heavies threw at them. While Marcus had to admit, the Republic had a far superior naval force in numerous aspects, their groundside military was be routed in battle after battle. Republic fighter jockeys couldn't be in every little skirmish, it was always down to your average GI Joe to get things done, to pass out rations and water, to patrol the local community, to keep the peace.

"Flying has its pros and cons and being a ground pounder has its as well." The man compromised. "I find it a lot easier to beat my opponent when I've got my hand around his neck and a vibroblade to his gut. To see someone eye-to-eye, to see all of that hatred within their being and extinguish it is a euphoric feeling. I'm not a murderer or a killer," he looked solemnly into his empty mug, "I'm just exterminating the darkest souls I can manage to find."

"You've gone and taken a dark road. Why not talk about something more pleasant?"

Pappy clicked his tongue at the AI. "War is war. I've suffered more than enough to seek penance on the battlefield."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]

 

[Juwiela Melec]

A small smile found her lips as Juwiela once more attempted to lighten the mood. Already before her life had been filled with the troubles that war had to offer. She wasn't about to let them return on her time away from the battlefield when she actually had a chance to really be herself. "It's a bit hard to see someone eye-to-eye when you don't have eyes in the first place, so I guess that's why I'm not on the ground. Don't ask me what the sense is in a blind pilot. Bet the looks on their faces when I climb out of the cockpit are hilarious. Too bad I can't see them for myself." Being physically sightless was both a blessing and a curse, really. Some days she couldn't figure out which.

One shoulder lifted in a shrug at his comment on the 'darkest souls'. "I've been told that Miraluka can see people's souls, but nobody's really looks that different. And, well, I can't see anyone who's Force Dead, so that rules people like you out. Guess it's made me question if anybody really has a soul in the first place. Or at least the people like the Sith. They're just dark. Rotted inside and out." She frowned slightly. "They're ugly, and I can't even technically see 'em. I guess it probably doesn't really matter in the long run, so long as there's people like us to take them out. That's the game plan, at least." She liked to think she'd played some kind of role in bringing down that war machine.

Her only response to what the AI had to say was a quiet, dry chuckle. "Sometimes you have to talk about it with somebody else who understands. It's better than bottling it all up and doing Force knows what on your down time, at least. I'd rather talk about it than have to go out and kill something to feel better. It's nice to share with somebody, even if we don't fight the same and hardly see eye-to-eye." Alright, she would admit, that was a bad one on her part. It was too easy to poke fun at herself sometimes. But she would make sure that anyone who took her supposed sightlessness as a weakness would regret that decision almost immediately.

The corners of her mouth tightened nearly imperceptibly. "No, you're not a murderer or a killer. None of us are. That's the line that separates us from the people we fight. We're doing this for a reason, so everybody else can live in peace. They do it because they can. If fighting for freedom makes me a murderer, then I don't want to have clean hands again." That was more of a speech than she would have liked, but she meant every word of it. Before joining the Alliance she had never had a goal to focus on, no greater purpose at the end of the day. Now she had her reasons, however skewed they were in anyone else's eyes. Now, at least, she had a cause.

[member="Marcus Foster"]

 

[Marcus Itera]

What she had to say was a little more than the soldier expected. He wasn't really here for speeches, emotional chatter, or any kind of talk that strayed from the usual topics of weather, the war, and who was the top team in the GravBall tournament. While he was literally a man built from the inside out to breathe, live, and embody the whole aspect of war, he found it disturbingly calming. It wasn't really anything that he'd felt before since that today when the Sith took everything he ever cared about. A deep inhale and exhale helped cool the hot blood in his veins.

Cobalt-hued eyes shifted towards his helmet where a hologram of Miranda sat, a concerned look on her face.

It's nothing, the man worded silently with the wave of a hand.

"I'll be fighting this war for the rest of my life. I can't really tell you anything specific, and don't take this as a mere metaphor, but I was built to be war." He pursed his lips and swallowed, moistening his words. "It's my goal at the end of the day to win and live to make sure I can win again, over and over."

He brought a gauntleted hand down onto the table, "I just want what was mine back, and I will never be able to do that."

[member="Juwiela Melec"]