Breaking the door (PM for Invite)

[Coren Starchaser]

How long had it been since he’d been aboard the Event Horizon? Long enough, for sure. Coren Starchaser had many things going on, making sure the Underground was underway and he wnted to make sure the Levantines didn’t get completely screwed over when they folded their assets into the Silver Jedi. The new Coalition was… alright, so he wasn’t worried. His ships didn’t get lost, and the Event Horizon’s mission was updated. Crew were getting a bonus check from the Blood Trail’s sponsorship through AEI, as it was a mission that was not typical of the Frontiers Corps and the systems aboard this vessel were getting updated.

He was in orbit around Solovarna, and the vessel was working with its newly purchased Silkworm Hypertransit Unit. Coren was in the navigator chair. He was technically the mission commander but not the ship’s captain. Sure, everyone knew that this mission was his baby, but he was here to work on this trail, and that meant navigating past the blocks. The last bit, that had him working on Nemexia, where he met that other Force explorer.

Now he was working at it from the other side. Without a pilot boat, they were using the frigate to power through the gravity wells and changes, trying to find the best routes possible. They made it past the Nemexia well from Serpena, but getting back, she was close to the Solovarna system and the galactic rim was causing its issues.

Cutter Class interceptors and the two Niathals were having a field day breaking through the routes Coren was putting up, but it was the trick to find the right path for the larger vessels. Too close and half a fleet movement would get ripped from hyperspace, and too far had you wasting time. It was precision.

 

[Zak Dymo]

It was always an interesting experiencing being on the Event Horizon.

He'd been on the ship one time prior, on a mission to map a route through hyperspace between Dasid Anya and Serpena -- both worlds on the far side of the galaxy from the Primeval or Levantine Sanctum. Or, the Silver Sanctum Coalition as it was known now. The merger of the neutral Levantine Sanctum with the militant Order of the Silver Jedi. It was a political union that would seem to cast some doubt on the Primeval's willingness to continue to support the Levantine Astronautical Academy, where the Bleeding Sun had seen fit to place the young assassin in lieu of the Imperial Academy on Bastion or the recently uncovered Sith Academy on Korriban.

Truth be told, the boy was not looking forward to the idea that he might wind up in one of those institutions rather than continuing with the Astronautical Academy. The separation from the Primeval, the immersion into classrooms of people who felt and thought differently, helped him to better quantify and solidify what it was that he believed rather than merely being swept up into the wave of zealots who had charged across Wayland and somehow emerged victorious by being more willing to die than the Mandalorians.

So, they were again on the far side of the galaxy. Solovarna. A world on the galactic rim.

Their position was logistically strenuous. Not so much for the Ruisto-class ship. It could carry provisions and supplies of every kind to feed and care for a crew over over 600 for more than a year. But the Niathals were smaller, consuming much of their fuel and provisions just on the trip out this far. In this vast swath of neutral space, allegiances were few and the planets far-between. A spacer could easily starve to death this far out into the wild places before reaching an outpost or colony.

The obvious solution was to re-supply the Niathals and other smaller vessels from the provisions aboard the Event Horizon, but such underway replenishments were not without their own hazards even under the most ideal conditions. Which, was where the blue-skinned Pantoran came into the mix. Acquisitions and supply made up the boy's chosen major at the Astronautical Academy, and now his course work became an exercise in practical application, as he sifted through supply requests and inventories to try and sort through what was needed where, and then figuring options and alternatives for getting those resources where they were needed.

Captain Starchaser's penchant of sending the smaller vessels buzzing like pelko bugs in a tornado didn't exactly help things in that regard, as the Pantoran was presented with few opportunities in which the Event Horizon's course overlapped that of the smaller ships.

Sometimes the boy swore that the Academy instructor mistook the Ruisto for an A-Wing Interceptor.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Coren was working with a lot of different groups, it meant he had to meet with many different people. The one group of people he wouldn’t tolerate, however, were the Sith. The Primeval members were a different brand of crazy but they weren’t always the type who were looking to take over the galaxy. Sure, Coren didn’t want to deal with their ranks, but what outsiders did? And as for them sending some people, such as Boo Radley [member="Boo Chiyo"]. And truth be told? The kid didn’t bother Coren all that much.

That was saying something.

With Starchaser, who wasn’t really in charge of the Academy, but on the staff, he wasn’t one who cared too much abuot someone’s political leanings. He worked in the Underground, known only to some at the Academy, and he was a clear Imperial sympathizer, much to the disagreement with Jorus Merrill.

And truth be told, Boo Chiyo wasn’t a bad student. Sure, he wasn’t quite positive he remembered him in any class or another, but Coren was always glad when some of the students took him up on the first-hand journeys. The kid had something of a skill for logistics. Coren on the other hand, made his past life gathering supplies and handing them off to an actual quartermaster. Sure, he was once a member of an Imperial warlord’s logistics division, but that was many a bye ago.

Coren was the type who flew TIE fighters into battle from an ImpStar. Working from the Ruisto to the smaller vessels, and logging their attempts to push past Nemexia on their way to Serpena, that was something of a real trick here.

He had AEI to worry about, and before pushing the Horizon through, he wanted as much data as he could get. He was starting to get it figured out, the edges of the trail, and at least what paths would send people directly at a planet.

The Niathals were works of art, and he was excited to be using them. The Ruisto was built for hyperspace exploration too, but the Cruiser was a bit larger than the shuttles, and moving her would be more costly, on supplies. And the last time Coren ran to Annaj, he was greeted by not one, but two fleets.

Wonderful people out in the Unknown Regions.

“Shuttles are returning.” Came the call to the bridge. Great, time to change crews, refuel and set the new hyperspace coordinates. Stepping up from the navigator’s seat, he made his way to the lift to head down to the hangar.

 

[Zak Dymo]

He went off by himself to pray.

It was difficult to achieve privacy within the confines of a frigate, even one as large as the Event Horizon. The Ruisto-class star cruiser was versatile and diverse in how it was outfitted, at the cost of space being at a premium for the bounty of resources that the ship brought to bear. There was typically a janitorial storage unit that he could make temporary use of at the designated prayer times. This particular time, the third daily prayer, was made with the penitent facing toward the nearest star. Different supplications had differing requirements, depending on the god to whom they were offered and the nature or meaning behind the pious gesture. In general, Balagoth was worshiped facing toward the galactic rim -- the void beyond which lay a darkness that transcended the galaxy and permeated the universe like a funeral pall.

Sargon was worshiped facing the opposite direction, toward the galactic center and the chaotic void around which the galaxy spun.

Nogras, the Starmaker, was worshiped in the cardinal direction of the nearest sun or star. And Halrormalenth, the Broken Creator, was not thought of with regard t any direction, but was instead worshiped through the practice of libations -- so the time for praying to Halrormalenth often accompanied mealtimes among Primeval believers.

An electric candle shone dimly in front of where the child prostrated himself, genuflecting in the center of the vacant hydroponics laboratory that had the virtue of not only being currently unoccupied, but also featured a transparisteel window through which he could visually confirm the presence of the nearest star. Would that the candle could have been real, but the confined atmosphere of the ship hardly made that practical. So he made due as best he could, with substance taking precedence over form. So long as the prayers were sincere, the method behind them was of less significance than the how.

A chime on his wristlink signaled the incoming message. Raising him amber eyes, the youth concluded his prayer before rising back to his feet and thumbing the link to retrieve the message.

“Shuttles are returning.”

If that were true, then the Horizon and her exploration group were likely to be on the move again. Which meant refueling, re-supply, and crew swaps. Picking up the electric candle, the boy deposited the item into the pocket of the navy blue Astronautical Academy uniform that he wore. Making his way out from the hydroponics lab, the boy set out toward the hangar bay.

He had fuel to transfer, stores to load, and probably no end of mistakes with both to try and correct on a short timeline.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He was a man who was raised through a variety of Force traditions. None really fit him, so he stopped trying to find himself in the Force. He tried to find how the Force worked for him. Somewhere between a Warden of the Sky and the Gray Paladins, Coren Starchaser as a military man at heart. Sure, he was part of the Frontiers Corps and that was teamed up with a Jedi faction, which he despised, but he also was just the type who felt religious experiences and the Force needed to be separated before they caused serious damage in the galaxy.

Case in point: The Sith.

Hopefully the Blood Trail would provide a decent escape route for people who were getting ravaged by the Sith.

For Starchaser, the only thing that mattered were what a man could do, and what they couldn’t do. What they would and wouldn’t do, and how. As long as things got done mostly peacefully, he was fine. Sure, the ends justified the means, but that only extended so far. He had no issue with people practicing their own beliefs, but don’t push it on anyone and do it in private.

That was one of his major rules. He wasn’t like certain members of South System alliances that had one really long rule. He had a lot.

The mission command and ship captain made it down to the hangar to greet crews. Data would be collected, and a new movement would be made, jump the next microjump down the path towards Nemexia. They’d get around this world, then back to Serpena, and make their way into former Fringe Space, clear that trail and start actually flying it to make sure it was all fluid.

“How’d we look out there?” Coren asked one of the shuttle pilots.

“A few tweaks and we’ll be good. The last path you gave us we could get mostly past the gravity well, just… She’s an awkward planet for the trail.” The Ithorian pilot spoke in their Ithorian Language that Coren was working on learning.

“We’ll get past her, the corporate sponsors want to go this way, so we’ll make it work.”

Simple.

He looked around, time to get the shuttles fueled and the Event Horizon moving.

[member="Boo Chiyo"]

 

[Zak Dymo]

Shuttles came in.

Waste oil, septic fluid, trash, and other inconvenient truths of space travel had to be siphoned off. Safely, securely, and most important of all, in as sanitary a way as possible. If there was one thing liable to draw the Pantoran tween's ire, it was cleaning up someone else's chit. Which, didn't prevent the dockmasters around Oswaft Station from leaving their disorganized messes for the Logistics students to clean up for them.

At the same time, fuel, oil, and autochef provisions had to be loaded aboard in preparation for the next shuttle crew and departure. The shuttle had to be cleaned, so that grease, dirt, and grime didn't build up and cause problems later for the electrical or air filter systems.

It wasn't at all dissimilar from an orchestra, the workings of a deck crew on a flight deck. There were purple shirt fuel loaders and green shirt maintenance technicians. Yellow plane captains. Brown runners. White safeties. Heavy equipment operators moved parts and equipment around, as fuel and other hoses snaked across the deck to connections exterior and interior to the shuttles.

A datapad in one hand and a spanner wrench in the other, a Duros deck officer stood over the small, blue-skinned Pantoran as the cadet oversaw the off- and on-load of the shuttles.

They didn't have it down to a science yet, but the shuttles ought to be ready to launch when Captain Starchaser had need of them again.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Really, what Starcahser should do is update the hardware on the Event Horizon. Next time he was at port, he knew there were a few pieces of machinery around the galaxy, between AEI, Silk and Iron Crown, that would take the waste products the crews had and convert them, biowaste to become food paste, waste oil could at least be turned into something rudimentarily useful. And with enough ketchup? Yeah, everything was fine. This whole trip could be done perfectly so long as they didn’t run out of that delicious condiment.

Moral of the paragraph? Practice safe lunch, kids. Use condiments.

Also, hire tweens as your logistics offiers. They knew what they were doing. The one thing Coren didn’t have to worry about, when the right batch of students were out here, was them doing the appropriate business. And [member="Boo Chiyo"] didn’t skimp, not like some of the older students. Was he sounding appropriately jaded? Taking the steps around the hangar, he was greeting pilots and checking to make sure things were running appropriately.

Coren, as a captain in the Frontiers Corps, had come up, or at least had the credentials to bypass the greenhorn phase and test into a variety of positions. Needed to master the skills to master a ship, but he wasn’t going to run this show alone. He pointed, but to his surprise, didn’t snap his finger. When he had the Cadet’s attention, he nodded. “How are we looking? Notice anything I haven’t?” Coren worried more on crew morale than provisions and supplies, that was the LO’s job.

Even if they were a blue skinned cadet.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Making food from biowaste.

That is to say, chit. Biowaste was just a fancy, white lace and spot of tea way of saying chit. Making food from chit. And not even your own chit. That Wookiee that smells like a swamp on Dagobah and has been snacking on that Ewok corpse for the last week? Yeah. That kind of chit.

And people wondered why people liked religions with dietary restrictions. Biological filters be damned. There wasn't enough ketchup, soy sauce, tzatziki, tamari, saki, shochu, or chipotole mayo in the world for that.

Not even if Iron Crown were serving up shots of Crown Royal.

"Huh?" the tween asked, his violet hair falling in front of his eyes as the boy turned to look back at the disheveled spacer. Any time of the day, Captain Coran just kind of had this 'fringer' thing going for him. Five o'clock shadow. Loose, relaxed. The boy knew that the man had been in a military of one kind or another at some point in his life, but he seemed more like a dude than a soldier.

As for the question. Notice anything I haven't. How the feth was he supposed to answer that? What, did Cap Corey think all witches carried crystal balls with them? Was the Pantoran supposed to read the man's mind?

...actually, that last bit would not only be kind of cool, but really, really useful next time there was a pop quiz on the internal anatomy of a Calrissian hyperdrive unit.

Sadly, Boo had neither crystal ball nor mind reading powers. "Uh," the boy began, stalling as he tried to come up with some sort of answer for his instructor. Truth be told, Boo hadn't paid the least bit of attention to the morale or disposition of the crew.

Why would anyone be unhappy?

[member="Catalys Maijora"] wasn't going to kill them where they stood for disobedience. [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] wasn't running this operation, threatening to melt the tallow from their organs to make candles for his bedroom (and that was if they obeyed or didn't, just his own Schitzo-sociopathic hot-flash mood swings...). And there wasn't an army of Mandalorians charging at them, raining down explosive shells and napalm all around them.

In other words, this wasn't a Primeval ship at all. No slaves. No whips. No mid-day religious mass with that rambling, super long homily that you felt should have ended twenty minutes ago, followed by libation. And summary executions.

So... people would be unhappy, on a ship where the worst thing that might happen is a few less hours of sleep because of a tight shuttle rotation?

Nope. Not even fathomable by the pre-teen. "What was the question again?" the boy asked finally.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

There were certain reasons that ship captains and missions commanders didn’t like to be involved in all the variety of tasks on a starship. Sure, they knew how it all worked, but things like where the food came from? No, that was just better off to forget. Sure, the Event Horizon made her touch back to an AEI station for resupply every few months. She wasn’t on a military mission, she was on an expedition, but the use of hyperdrives and Coren’s own navigation allowed the ship to change out her crews, even if sometimes it was a pair of Niathals that would meet the ship on four week rotations, spaced two weeks apart. You could tell when someone was short timing because they were just giddy aboard the ship.

And it meant more sauces were coming, and sometimes more food stores. Typically more were coming. Yeah, the writer lived that life for a bit. No food processors there, and no alcohol on ships. Unfortunately, food converters helped keep a ship flying longer and fortunately, the Frontiers Corp was less stringent.

As for being more dude than soldier, blame the bit of cryo-hibernation-mind-wipe. The military training seemed to remain, his knowledge of how to handle a situation like an Imperial officer, even if the personality adjustment that was inherent in those types of situations was gone. And try as he might, he just couldn’t snap into the whole ‘super military rawr’ posture, and had a hard time even with the ‘I’m a teacher and you should learn from me’ mode.

Force help anyone who looked at him as a Master of the Force.

But this, he could handle. Frontiers Corps was simple, LAA was simple, and their sponsor hadn’t checked in because of the regular reports they were sending. “Have you noticed anything I haven’t, from a logistics side? Shortages, anything out of place…” Not a trick question, but Coren did see the reports, it’d be better marks for [member="Boo Chiyo"] if he found the issues before a report came in.

Yes, this mission wasn’t completely LAA sanctioned, yes it was extra credit and ship hours for most students.

 

[Zak Dymo]

The young Pantoran cocked his head to one side as he mulled that question over.

"Now that you mention it, we're using a lot of toilet paper this trip," the youngling remarked candidly. It was probably an odd thing to take note of, except he had to order the toilet paper and he was ordering it every time that they resupplied the ship. And, when certain items went into short supply, Boo tended to be the recipient of everyone's complaints. So, he'd actually been having entire conversations about toilet paper recently.

Prior to this trip, he'd no idea just how many different manufacturers there were for toilet paper. There was practically an entire supply catalog, depending on if you needed it to be compliant with aquatic environments, or Corellian septic systems, or two-ply...

"Someone keeps taking it out of the refresher on Deck Two," the cadet remarked with a shrug. Who stole toilet paper? Unless there were going to roll something. But who was going to roll anything on this ship? Roll a shuttle in the hanger? "The one on the port side, that is. So, if its serious business, make sure you go starboard."

With that said, the boy paused as he tried to think of anything else.

Deuterium tanks, used for coolant and fuel for cryogenic reactors, were all at anticipated levels. They were actually using less fuel than they'd estimated when they'd done the initial planning for this venture. The food stores were being exhausted at the expected levels...

Actually, there was one more thing.

"Oh, and the husbanding agent at our last port didn't have any of the usual condiments," the Pantoran added, recalling someone complaining that there wasn't any ketchup in the galley. "So, we stocked McYoda's magic dragon sauce instead."

So, what did you learn about today at school, Boo?

Toilet paper and condiments. That's what.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Maybe in a far off time, part that didn’t get adjusted to this canon for Coren Starchaser, he had been claimed by an Imperial remnant and in addition to the starfighter Wing he was a part of, he worked as a logistics officer. Sure, he volunteered as the Warbird procurement officer, but that was for the special projects, not foodstuffs or expendables. His job was finding the things that couldn’t be found, the special weapons, the ships that would help a team. Blame his psychometry. Give him another time and place and he’d make a decent bounty hunter, but here? He was not any form of major quartermaster, just finding the new and unique things the galaxy had to offer.

So when [member="Boo Chiyo"] came in and spoke of something so not-science-fiction-y as toilet paper, the writer behind the computer spit Dr. Pepper across the room. And his roommate had to pause American Horror Story (season two, the creepy one), to laugh. And then Corey had to explain roleplaying and how one writer was just a goofball.

But Coren nodded. Toilet paper was one of those necessities. They weren’t Hutts, or the Vitae Alliance. They weren’t criminals and unlike the Alliance, had a financial backing that was probably more than the government was worth. He listened to the information from Boo. “I’ll keep that in mind. You ever serve on a military vessel, Cadet?” Pilots had strange traditions, but he wasn’t sure this was any he knew about.

“I’ll make sure to send the requisitions up the chain at our next stop over. I think we’ve got supply shuttles coming in in a week or so.” He looked around the hangar floor. These ships, the crews here that were running the hyperspace trips, they were doing hard work, they deserved to have everything they could need. Sure, they had 12 hour watches, and with it not being a military vessel, they had to be awake to assist with repairs, but beyond that? The Event Horizon was a cushy posting, for whoever, Astro Academy, Frontier Corps, or contractors. It just asked that you didn’t sabotage the mission.

But stealing toilet paper… maybe that was all they needed to discuss here. Unless there was a saboteur on board.

Or a shuttle missing.

And that was when the ensign ran up. A quick salute and notice that shuttle three hadn’t made their check in.

Joy.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Ever serve on a military vessel?

"No, sir," the small Pantoran answered, politely but with a casual shrug. He was, after all, only eleven. So it probably wasn't that surprising of an answer. Now, had he voyaged aboard a military vessel would have been a different question. From out of a dropship, the Pantoran had led a division of the Golden Banner 5th during the invasion of Wayland. But, that wasn't the same as serving as a ship's crew. The ship had merely been a means by which the ground forces of the Primeval had been delivered through Mandalorian space.

And, his 'volunteer work' with [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]'s subjugation of the Chiloon Rift hadn't involved a military vessel. Those had been more akin to privateers.

So, the boy felt he was quite honest with the answer that he hadn't served on a military vessel. Even if there were variations of that same question which would have merited a different response. The boy wasn't keen on the idea of lying to Captain Coren. In part because he knew the man was aware of the Force, and had no basis by which to judge the man's ability to discern the lies from out of his half-truths. And, in part because Captain Coren didn't seem a man who put any stock in the politics of the galactic powers-that-be.

Even still, the boy didn't talk much about the Primeval. Aside from when students or teachers would ask about his religion. Faith was easy to talk about. The work of the faith... not so much. There was the subjugation of Chiloon Rift. The seizure of the port of Bilgewater during the dominion of Ord Janon...

Thankfully, it appeared that any further conversation would be stalled in light of the report that one of the shuttles hadn't checked in.

"I'll get suited up for a rescue dive. Shuttle Eta-Nine should be fully re-fueled and ready to fly."

He'd been around his teacher long enough to get a sense of the man. The boy's statement was less a guess as to the man's next course of action, and more a judgment of his character. Coren Starchaser struck him as the sort of man who'd rather lead a search-and-rescue mission than send someone else out to do it.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Right, he wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking. The kid, cadet, Pantoran, whichever, was young. A kid, an actual kid and not just one that Coren would call kid because they were younger or less experienced than he was. And really, it was more a conversation piece, had the kid been on a vessel for the Primeval? Truthfully, Coren didn’t care for wars, unless it was the war to end a stranglehold on the galaxy. People shouldn’t fear the governments. Governments should fear the people.

And hopefully unknown to [member="Boo Chiyo"], Coren was one of the leaders in the Underground lately, and working on a few plans to try to overturn the Sith stranglehold. Then he’d turn his attentions to destroying the Republic so they could rebuild, regroup and reformat and listen to him about the Reapers and hopefully be a bit stronger, and separate themselves from the Jedi. “Pilots and crews come up with their own…” Right shuttle.

He nodded at the officer who delivered the message. “You sure you’re ready to go EV? Not a warzone, but it is the Unknown Regions.” And Coren would be flying his cover. Really, the man was going to be taking his pride and joy, the Tachyon Rising (you can see the signature link), and that was going to be the rescue boat. How long since he’d flown her for anything that wasn’t exploration related? A while.

Almost too long.

This would be a good trip. “We’ll be taking my ship, Tachyon Rising. Hangar two, 10 minutes.” He nodded. He’d get a co-pilot to come along, and his astromech. Simple trip, this.

Hopefully.

 

[Zak Dymo]

"Oh, I've EV'd into war zones before."

The boy's reply came quickly, before he'd really had time to think about what he'd said. When he did, all he could do was think so himself, I probably shouldn't have said that. Still, it was true. Or, relatively true anyway. The subjugation of Chiloon Rift by Zambrano the Hutt hadn't been an actual war, merely a state of hostilities because a Sith Gangster and loose association of pirate groups. So, barring pirates shooting at them and random Mandalorian ghost ships appearing from out of the cold of hyperspace, this didn't seem like as much of a challenge. Plus, now he had actually training under his belt. As opposed to living on a prayer, holding onto a lightsaber, and winging it. "So, this ought to be cake."

Relenting the point, Captain Coren named the transport and the meeting location.

Heading through the ship to the boatswain's locker, the boy found where a familiar bag was hung, bearing medical symbols. Rescue Diver students carried were allowed to carry kits with them on assignments. These would contain their specialized search-and-rescue gear, most notably their vacuum suit, as well as their med kit. This was important for students like Boo, for whom a vacuum suit was likely not maintained aboard the ship that would be his size. During training, Boo wore a suit provided for him by the Astronautical Academy, which functioned well for the training environment it was intended for. In a real-life situation, such as now, Boo intended to wear something a little more substantial. So the suit that he changed into was one that had been specially tailored. And it ought to have been, for it was a set of vacuum-sealed armor worn by light infantry under the Golden Banner of the Host Lord.

The armor plating on the left arm, as well as the armorweave and its durafiber lining underneath, had been replaced as a result of getting shot on Wayland by some arsehole (otherwise known as [member="Arrbi Betna"]). Stashed in the kit with his medpac was also his lightsaber. Loading the medkit on his right side and hanging the lightsaber on his left, the boy tucked the helmet in the crook of his arm as he made his way down to the hangar bay.

He saw what appeared to be a Corellian travesty, which he assumed was some rusted out relic that the ship intended to dump into the gravity well of the nearest star. It was only after he checked the vehicle manifest that he realized that Cap Coren's mentioned Tachyon Rising was a YT freighter.

"What a piece of junk," the boy remarked candidly.

Seriously. They needed to bring Cap Corey into 844 ABY.

Feth. That ship wasn't even 844 BBY.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Boo Chiyo, the most unassuming cadet he’d dealt with, had a feth ton of experience. Good. He knew there was a reason why he enjoyed the young Pantoran on his missions. Kid knew his chit. And that was good. Coren didn’t really enjoy going EV in space, he’d SCUBA all day, but EV in vac? Nah. From reports though, it was one of Kaia’s tricks, she might not fly a fighter into combat, but she was a hell of a support role. Sniper rifle and EV. Yes the writer was developing another PC that Boo was writing with in this thread.

So what?

“Combat zone EV, really? For…” The Corellian waved his hand off, letting the term Primeval be implied. Well, if it could be, if not, it was Coren reaching for the word and who the hell Boo would be jumping into a combat situation for.

But now on to the ship. This one, the Tachyon Rising was Coren Starchaser’s YT-2000 freighter. She was beautiful and was the first ship that character had been written with. Honestly, Coren was a name off a cereal box because 14 year old Corey thought it was cool, then he realizec his last name made it so the name almost spelled Corey, but whatever. He didn’t care. Coren was written initially as a pilot, and Corey initially played X-Wing Alliance, and seeing the Otana show up made the kid go crazy. So the Tachyon Rising was born. And developed.

A gunrunner and a transport for the Imperial pilots when they needed to go be the Wraith Squadron of the Empire and sneak anywhere, the ship had that same history but was now also bolstered with a complete rebuild, like one would do in an aging Jeep CJ. New parts, new engines, and the best Silk components credits and an AEI sponsorship could purchase.

Making his way to the hangar where his pride and joy was (sure, ShortFin was eleventy times more sexy…). Starting the pre-flight, he stepped down into the hangar to give her a look over. Then he turned when [member="Boo Chiyo"] came up with a ready insult. And yes, the writer knew the next line, of ‘she’ll make point five past lightspeed.’ “She’s not supposed to look like much, but trust me, she more than makes up for it, where it counts.” Yeah, he also wasn’t Han Solo. This was Sparta! Coren Starchaser.

Sometimes the man was 2000 late.

 

[Zak Dymo]

"Where it counts?"

The small Pantoran turned his head, delivering a sidelong glance over at the Corellian man. "As in, what they'd give you for the scrap?" the tweenager asked, trying not to smile or laugh as he adopted a mocking tone.

Tossing his helmet up, the youngling caught and twirled the armor piece between both hands as he started toward the loading ramp. "Well, if we're going in that, at least there'll be an afterlife for me."

Balagoth be praised.

That said, the boy was kind of hoping he'd come back as a Neti in his next life and just plant some roots next to an ice-fed stream and just settle on some pastoral snow-covered riverbed, watching sunsets for the next thousand years. "As for you..." the young Primeval boy began, pausing at the foot of the ramp to glance back at the man. "Well.. I'll pray for you," the youth joked glibly, flashing a smile before he sprinted up the ramp into the ship.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

See? The thing with Coren Starchaser was that he understood the ship was an antique. Sure, he’d call her a classic, and anyone who knew anything about starships, well, they ranged from how Boo was behaving to people understanding the connection. It would be something if the writer had teleported Coren here from the original timeline he was in, which was 6ABY to the start of the Vong war, then the ship would have what, 15 years of connection to the pilot? Even then she was aging, with the YT-2000 having a short run right after Yavin.

“One day, Cadet, you’ll fall for a ship. And she’ll be with you til she kills you.” Was that the Starchaser motto? Probably should be, there probably should just be a fething motto for the family, something that wasn’t ‘bring me that horizon’, but they were a family of explorers, traditionally speaking. Not useful for the actual rank and file of the Jedi or the Sith, if any were crazy enough to go that route.

Afterlife, wasn’t that a club on Omega? Right, wrong galaxy.

Or was it the right galaxy? Didn’t have to deal with the One Sith, or the Rebel Alliance. Just Reapers and N7. And goofy aliens, aside from Garrus, who was the Bro.

“Now if you really wanna get into a discussion, there's a clearing at the end for everyone involved.” Coren was partly serious here. It was what happened. You spent a few years on some island with the people most important to your life, then when you all ended, you were at an clearing at the end of the path (life) and you moved on to the next level of the tower. Yeah, Corey mixed and matched a lot of beliefs for his characters.

He followed the youth up the ramp and made his way to the cockpit. “Won’t need anyone praying.” Not with Starchaser behind the controls. If he was going to go to, it would probably be in one of these, but not while he was doing a routine pick up, and not when his instinctive astrogation needed to occur. Kicking the ship from the floor and out the magcon shield, he let his fingers glide over to the astrogation controls. Rising was in an easy course out of the Horizon and towards the direction he had sent the ships.

It was a few moments and Coren had written a coordinate that should snake them right where they needed. “You ready, kid?” He said, and regardless of the answer, they were going to be jumping now. A very quick jump, in and out. These were microjumps the shuttles were going on (I don’t care what the thread says, when I look at it like this it makes sense to do a lot of microjumps to power through a hyperspace lane. The Daragon family was crazy.) and they’d take anywhere from 5 minutes to 30, this one would probably end right when Boo was done donning and checking his gear.

[member="Boo Chiyo"]

 

[Zak Dymo]

The Pantoran tossed his kit down in the lounge as he came aboard.

"My star courier's just as old," the boy announced, calling out to where Coren was disappearing into the cockpit of the freighter. Strange how the ships of the prequels looked as though they'd been made on a budget and with effects that were decades more advanced than the ones seen in the original films set decades later. But, c'est la vie. The Sienar Systems Sith Infiltrator Star Courier remained a vessel of sleek lines and TIE-inspired visuals. "It just looks a Sith ton better!"

Stripping out of his uniform, the Pantoran began to don the armored vacuum suit. The armorweave body glove went on like a wetsuit, with the armored greaves, harness, and gauntlets being pulled over the underlying suit. The silver and black armor had a short cloak of armorweave, which draped back from over the shoulders. By the time he was down to fastening the last details of his gloves, he'd already begun to sweat from the many layers of insulation smothering his small frame. Drawing in a breath, the boy tapped into the reservoir of emotion he typically kept trapped far beneath the surface. Frost spread across the suit, as the blue-skinned youth reached out and touched the Dark Side of the Force.

It made a handy air conditioning system for those sweltering hot days in space!

Securing his medpac and lightsaber in place, the boy left the helmet with his kit as he made his way toward the cockpit. Between the cryogenic aura and the Sith crystal in his lightsaber, he might well be giving himself away. But he trusted Cap Coren enough to jump into space, so he'd trust him with the fact that the boy used the Dark Side of the Force.

"Are we there yet?" the boy asked, in the same glib tone as before.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Star Courier, if it was what Coren was thinking it was, yeah, that was a slick set of… wheels? Slick ship. It was an interesting thing. He knew one other person who had one commissioned, one of the sniper-Force Warriors that lived aboard the Dawn Treader. Scall McLean had worked as a Sith hitman and Intelligence operative during one stint with a warlord or another and had one built for him. “One of the Santhe ships, right? Kid, I’ve been flying fighters built by those shipyards since… oh, before you were born.” And the now-grinning man looked 28, go have fun with that without prior knowledge of the cryohibernation.

Coren would probably feel that use of the Force. One thing he was good at was watching how the Force moved, its ebbs and flows. Did he care if it was a dark side skill? Not in the slightest. He used them to hunt down dark siders. But for someone so young to be reaching on that? He could only imagine what life had thrown at the Pantoran. Still, he had to get to flight.

By the time [member="Boo Chiyo"] had put on his armored vac suit, Coren was pulling the Rising into real space. The shuttle wasn’t too far off, but he wasn’t sure what had happened. A quick hail wasn’t giving him any results and he eased his space-jeep into position above the vessel, directing the lights to the viewports. Space was dark, kids, remember that.

“I’m not reaching them, and I can’t see anyone in the cockpit… Careful out there, Cadet.” Coren flipped a switch which would light up near the cargo hold, creating an airlock that Little Boy Blue could use to get outside.

Now where was that magazine?

 

[Zak Dymo]

Careful?

What fun was there in that?

With a nonchalant wave of one hand, the blue-skinned youngling dismissed the warning and stepped inside of the airlock. As the pressure door dropped behind him, the lightning changed to all red illumination -- to better adapt him to night vision. Taking a knee, the boy reached inside of the armored gauntlet on his left arm to pull free the string of prayer beads that was tucked in the small pocket of space between his arm and the durasteel plate. Proceeding through an entire circuit of prayers, the tween centered himself and prepared his mind for the dizzying experience of null-gravity. When his gloved hands had arrived, full circle, at the reverie crystal at the end of the chain, the boy stowed the Primeval icon back into its makeshift holding place in his armor and donned the helmet.

Cool, compressed air brushed over the skin of his face as the neck seal connected, activating the respirator and rebreather. The transparisteel visor came alive, illuminated by the integrated heads-up display. Another dizzying effect. It had taken some time before the boy had adjusted to the pervasive information that the HUD supplied across his field of vision. When he had returned to his feet, the child opened the door and felt himself lifted up as he floated out into an ocean of endless night and stars.

That's one small step for tweens...

Inverted himself, so that his head now pointed in the direction of the underside of the Corellian ship, the Pantoran grabbed hold of the side of the ship. Pulling himself along, the young witch-boy edged his way across the hull of the freighter until he could see the Niathal shuttle caught in the cockpit lights.

Pulling himself down, so that he was braced against the side of Coren's ship like a sprinter crouched down at the start line, the boy lined up his body with the shuttle. A small target in a sea of nothing. When he was satisfied he had a good angle, the boy kicked off from the freighter like a runner pushing off at the start. Like a diver, the boy cut through the vacuum as a swimmer adrift. His inertia unencumbered, the boy sailed along, slow and steady as he parted ways from Coren's ship.

The freighter growing smaller and the shuttle growing larger as the boy passed silently between them.

It was probably three or more minutes of 'flight time', before Pantoran's hand clamped down on the edge of the shuttle. "Contact," the boy reported succinctly, looking up and down the length of the shuttle as he oriented himself. The hull plating seemed intact. No scoring or blast marks of any kind. Not that he could see from this angle, anyway. "Going to peek into the cockpit," the tween added, pulling himself toward the head of the shuttle.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]​