Broken Core (Rebuilding Mandalore)

[Bethany Kismet]

M A N D A L O R E

As the small fleet of aid ships slipped into orbit around the Mandalorian homeworld, Bethany Kismet looked out over the view beneath them.

She and [member="Vilaz Munin"] had spoken two days before, but even his report had not truly prepared her for the devastation on the surface. The planet’s core- destabilized. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Volcanic unrest that threw ash up into the highest levels of the atmosphere. And down there, somewhere, invisible to the eye from where the too few transports hung, were the people who had survived. Some of Vilaz’s reports had been….. Particularly grim. The lengths that some of the Mandalorians on the ground had gone to when the planet itself had betrayed them.

In truth, it had not been the planet to turn against them, but one of their own. But neither Bethany nor the gathered Order knew just how deep that hole within the Mandalorians went. As far as the Order was concerned, this was a natural tragedy, dire and heartbreaking- but no one’s fault.

Those who had come with the gathering of transport and medical ships already knew what their jobs would be. Some, more suited to the danger, all volunteers, would be heading toward the domed capital city for search and rescue. The great dome itself had cracked and broken, and who knew just how desperate the people on the ground had become? There were reports of fighting and worse- to survive, some had risen high within themselves and their honor…. But some…. Some had fallen into depths they may have never considered before.

Some would go to the river valley just beyond, where the flood waters rose, threatening homes and farms. The speed the flooding spread and the potential for flash floods, along with those Mandalorians who may view the Order with suspicion in a time of already high stress and tempers made that a dangerous situation as well.

Others would begin the setup of their base of operations- utilizing one of the medical ships as a central space, the camp would move out from there. Others would bring the injured, those in need of food, shelter and safety.

But they could not begin any rebuilding until the seismic activity that wracked the planet calmed. Search, rescue, offer aid, yes. But there could be no action taken toward repairing what had been done until the core had fully stabilized. And that was where Bethany and some of the other Force Users within the Order would come in.

It would take decades for the core to balance again, left to it’s own devices. But, maybe, with a coordinated effort, bolstered by a shared intent, they could find a way. As far as she knew, nothing like this had ever been attempted before. Bethany didn’t know if it was even possible.

But she had to try.

“I am meeting Vilaz Munin on the surface,” she said, turning to glance at [member="Michael Sardun"].

The diminutive woman looked very little like what most imagined a Jedi Master ought to look like. She wore a simple white tunic, her long black hair bound in a single braid down her back. She carried no lightsaber on her belt, that mark of a Jedi absent. Brilliant green eyes rested heavily on her friend.

“We’ve arranged a rendezvous point,” she continued, starting to move with purpose across the bridge of the medical ship. “I’ll be taking a shuttle down.” She paused, then smiled up at him.

“Shall I assume you’ll be coming with me, my friend?”

Spoiler

Objective 1: Stabilize the Core
While the majority of the damage has been done, the core of Mandalore is still unstable, causing continuing surface upheaval. Led by Bethany Kismet, Force Users will be positioned around the globe to coordinate and attempt to rebalance the core, if that is possible.

Objective 2: OSL's Base of Operations
Setting up and maintaining OSL's main camp on Mandalore. This will be the touch point for any injured, refugees and coordination of communications and aid across the planet. This is also the place where any Mandalorians can request safe haven on Monastery, and where ships going to and from the OSL homeworld will congregate.

Objective 3: Search and Rescue in the Capital
When the first shock waves hit, there was little warning. There are still people trapped in fallen buildings and across the city. Find them, rescue them, get them to safety. Because of the continued surface instability, this objective is particularly dangerous, as aftershocks can occur at any time.

Objective 4: Flood Waters Rising
In one of the river valleys, the flood waters are still rising- an underground aquifer has been exposed and there is no end in sight. A number of smaller farms and homesteads are already under water, and more are threatened. Search and rescue with the rapidly rising flood waters must be swift, and will be dangerous. Be cautious, but decisive.

Objective 5: BYOO

As the thread progresses and stories unfold, new objectives and emergencies may arise. As we go, make sure to tag the folks in your scene and communicate and coordinate, especially with any non-OSL writers who show up. This thread may be completely peaceful- or there may be folks who object to the presence of OSL on Mandalore. Both are possible (and welcome from a narrative standpoint!).

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Bethany Kismet"]

In truth Sardun had little love for the Mandalorians.

Wasn't the war, wasn't the killing, it wasn't even their arrogance, but their insistence to realign themselves with the Sith after everything that had happened in the past? It spoke of a sudden lack of moral character, but perhaps that was the point. Perhaps they figured themselves above those kind of worries.

But regardless of what some of their leadership did, regardless of the Mand'alor's attempt to deny his own people aid... here they were, Kismet and her Order... and him.

"Someone will have to watch your back." The deep hum of his voice filled the stale, metallic air of the bridge. He stood tall, bend, but not broken regardless of the torment weighing at his shoulders.

"Might as well be me."

They had argued about it beforehand, but in the end Sardun had relented. As he often did, because there was little the Jedi Master could deny this one. Not after their first meeting, after Sekot and what it truly meant for him. Few others had the same kind of connection to Zonama Sekot and her children.

The forest had whispered to him and he would follow.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08h0IVs4RKQ​

​

Wind whipped at a ragged suck-sack he had ripped and torn about his mouth. He hadn't allowed himself to wear armor since the activities on Tython. His time on that planet had brought him a small shred of peace and comfort, at the very least. It had also shown him that the Clans perhaps could have been fixed in ways other than that which he had gone about it. But, he had always been impulsive when angered and upset. And his mind was far from calm and peaceful right at this juncture. Since he had joined it to the consciousness of his A.I. on Coruscant, it seemed like he had only a faint grasp on slivers of sanity, and that more and more often he was in a waking nightmare he could not control. Something was wrong with his psyche, with his brain, and no doctor seemed to understand it. And he had traveled to a few now to seek out their aid.

Despite the rags and evidence to the contrary, Ijaat could not hide the physique of his new body from [member="Ajira Cardei"] and Ke'Dem. It was built for war, and rather dramatic a figure his face cut. But it was not recognizable as the Bar'buir of old, or even the man who had done what he the things he had with the Protectors. Just very obviously a warrior in drab greens, browns, and greys. A collection of pick-axe, shovel, and sledge rested in his left hands grip, slung over his shoulder, and a re-breather hid much of his face. He was working somewhere vaguely near where a small urban center had been. Had been for weeks really. Calm and steady. Not speaking much if at all. A group of refugees were making home here, sifting through the rubble. There would be help for them from him.

Quick habs, constructed by hand with an eye for making as always. Avoidance was paid to things like swords, guns, or the armor of the vode as they walked by. The shelters were nothing special or fancy, but they were made with a sturdiness that belied the rough-shod origins. There was little Ijaat could do to help stabilize the planet. Sure, his mind could probably find the solution. And he could call in contacts and connections and bring resources to heal the core in a fraction of the time it might naturally take. But that was not him now. This was penance, personal repentance. It needed sweat of brow and ache of heart, and true regret. Besides, fixing the planet would do little if there was too much death.

He didn't belong on Mandalore anymore, but he had left his small workshop at Vur Tepe for the moment. A few weeks, or months, here helping would show him the path forward. His life was out of balance, and that harmony needs be attained. And if someone, somehow, found him out and he was confronted? Well, the Manda was likely never going to be his destiny anyway with the crimes to his name. So whatever would happen would happen. Time to let go of aspirations of greatness, anger and instead become what his father had tried to raise him to be. A humble smith and swordsman. No more of any of this. With a grunt, he laid his tools at a bit of a slant-roofed little place and leaned against the wall, drinking heavily from a canteen with in-built filtration.

Time would heal his mind, or he would do the honorable thing and find someone willing to end him before he grew any worse.

 

[Briika Munin]

deleted

 

[Bonde We]

Mandalore
Save the peeps and what not
Allies- OSL
Enemies- Anyone who attacks me
Daybreak

Bonde's all white Aethersprite interceptor zoomed into view of Mandalore. The broken planet has been a war torn planet for quite some time now. Mandalore's core had destabilized and floods constantly killed many innocent lives. Many people would not live past today, but Bonde was determined to save all that he could. He came into view of a clearing with a small landing pad. Hssss! The landing gear was deployed and Bonde hopped out. All of his medical supplies were housed in a small cargo hold where an astromech would normally be placed. Inside were basic needs to save someone's life; several tourniquets, anti-septic solution, various surgical supplies, and morphine. Morphine was primarily used for those Bonde knew wouldn't make it, though the patient usually asked for it first. Bonde wasn't fully prepared to take on such a large amount of people at a time, but he'd have to make do. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he set out to find the first victims. He switched on his commlink.

"[member="Bethany Kismet"], this is Bonde. I'm en route to locate victims that can be treated, over."

[member="Briika Tor"] [member="Ijaat Mereel"] [member="Michael Sardun"]

 

[Vixley CM-01]

[member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Michael Sardun"] | [member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Bonde We"]​

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=21kknXoq9XI[/youtube]​

"So, what are we doing at Mandalore, Vixley? You said you'd tell me when we got there." Alexis spoke up, sitting in the co-pilot seat as she did a double check on all systems, mostly life support, power, and inventory checks. Vixley didn't know emotion, he didn't have those chills up his spine, or that bad gut feeling. Sadly, he was only a droid. While his actions may be heartfelt, he was as heartless as any droid. He was programmed to save people. But he knew when something would negatively effect someone. Certain things he kept to himself, especially when it meant an injured individual could give up on trying to live if they heard something that meant they had nothing left, or lost it all. "I received a message over the HoloNet, the situation is bad. I don't know the history of Mandalore much after the Clone Wars. But it seems.... their planet is dying, or something shifted its stabilization. They're evacuating."

Alexis felt a sinking feeling in her chest as she took a moment to breathe. She didn't speak up for a moment as she looked out the viewport. Traveling through hyperspace, made her feel weightless. Of course, inertial dampeners, and an artificial gravity made her lighter on her feet than her home, but it felt like she was being thrown through space and time, flying, drifting, without stop. She took her time as she thought about what would happen if her home was destroyed, or if she lost her parents, if their planet ...went unstable. "Alright, we're exiting hyperspace. Go check on the medical supplies, would you? I want care packages dropped in as many designated locations as we can." Alexis agreed, and unfastened her safety belt as she stood up and turned, heading for the Cargo Bay.

As they exited hyperspace and came over the planet, Vixley tried to ignore any visuals he would have to relay to Alexis, flipping some switches. The Medical IFF was turned on, and Vixley started to speak into the transmission.

"This is Vixley, Combat Medic, Zero-One. Trauma Ward. We've received your message and have arrived. Please give us designated drop zones as we approach. I will personally reach the ground and offer medical assistance, my ship will go to designated locations and drop medical supplies for any locations that have taken injured. Give me a landing location for me to drop down, I'll bring surgical assistance."​

 

[Jsc]

Meran Station - High Orbit
Obj 2


It was a small space station[1]. Placed in-system a week ago as a medical outpost and had been operating with Council permissions from a one, Krenis Skirata. Now it was working in partnership with the Order of the Sacred Lotus. An off-shore platform that could headquarter their brass and coordinate with their units on the ground. It had already been running medical operations for the whole of the past week too. As such, it was already tied into the public coms-net and what little remained of the geological weather monitoring stations planetside. Alas, getting their private fleet of satellites rerouted was still a work-in-progress. Something Kat didn't even want to think about right now.

Kat Rivers of Denon was working as a staff secretary for Jedi Master Ken Toms right now. As, Master Toms was part of the joint venture force that now ran the station alongside the original Mandalorian and Private Corporation staffers. The idea around their operation was simple. Get a CIC holo-table set up and running of the capital city ground sector and coordinate all of the mission data running through it with the OSL teams moving ground side. Easy. Right.

Well. Not really. The table covered a huge amount of ground and currently they only had 30 staffers online around the clock from which to update it. That's not a lot of telephone operators from which to take calls. As such. The work piled up quickly. Luckily, there were other space stations and medical frigates willing to help share the load and stay in contact with Meran Station. Almost too many helpers really. Heck. Even now, more than half of Meran Station's com-officers were just in charge of coordinating with the other medical stations, hospitals, and star vessels already operating in-system. And for every com-officer there were at least two little Astromech droids rerouting the digital data back to the holo-table for quick observation. It was a huge undertaking. And a beautiful, beautiful thing to witness. Wow.

Up here in the wild vastness of space. It was a wild time to be alive.

...

Kat sat on the upper deck of the station's command center just across the way from the central holo-table display. On the deck below her was The Pit. Where all of the com-officers sat entrenched in their computer screens. Master Toms and Station Commander Tronks stood nearer the wide glass balcony. Discussing something about the landing pads and air-traffic control updates. Here. In this mess of paperwork and blue holographic screens. Doctor Rivers managed to break away for a ten minute respite.

She needed a coffee break.

 

[Jakkor Kess]

Objective 1

Jakkor had only recently heard of what happened to the Mandalorians before coming here. Despite the stories he had heard during his Temple days on Coruscant, he had heard of the wars between the Jedi and Mandalorians, and how the Jedi won everytime. but even than the Mandalorians were always a respected people and so thought that none of them deserved a fate like this. The planet was worse than what he thought it was back in the clone wars, now undergoing volcanic activity as well as Earthquakes, and Tsunamis it seemed like the world was dying, and the Mandalorians would loose their beloved homeworld, Jakkor was determined not to let that happen as he would save the world if he could.

His shuttle departed, and so followed [member="Bethany Kismet"] for a time down the world, Since becoming a Jedi Knight, he wanted to make a difference with this new generation of Jedi, and so gladly offered himself to Master Kismet, and her plan with stabilizing the core in an effort to save the dying planet. He grabbed his comlink, and so contacted Kismet hoping to have a question or two answered. He activated it, his blue form appearing. He eyed her through the lenses of his mask, and said in a calm and urgent tone. "Greetings Master Kismet, Jedi Kess here, I am prepared to help with the core, and await any coordinates you may provide with aiding in this task" He said awaiting her answer patiently.


[member="Bonde We"]
[member="Michael Sardun"]
[member="Kat Rivers"]
[member="Vixley CM-01"]
[member="Ijaat Mereel"]
[member="Briika Tor"]

 

[Elijah Beckett]

When he had heard about what had occured on Mandalore, Elijah didn't entirely know what to think. He didn't consider the Mandalorians enemies, but nor had they particularly been friends. All of his prior experience with them had been in battles, either fighting against or alongside a few of them. He held a measure of respect for them because of that, even for the ones who had tried to kill him

Either way it didn't diminish the pang he felt in his heart; for those who had been on the planet when the disaster struck. Albeit, he had heard the murmurs that the disaster the had shook Mandalore hadn't exactly been a natural disaster; mother nature hadn't just up and decided to act.

Elijah sighed at that. He had seen a lot of the different sides to war, from the good to the ugly; although he could imagine many would argue war in general was ugly. There was the straight forward; kill the enemy, protect your allies, to the more shady and undercover that usually preceeded the open conflict.

Before, he had made it adamant to [member="Bethany Kismet"] that he wouldn't/couldn't go to any of the active battle zones if the Order were called upon. It was just something Elijah admited he couldn't bear with now a days. But something like this? To help those injured and lost after the conflict? That he could do.

And as such Elijah found himsefl on one of the medical ship; datapad in hand heading towards the bridge after learning Bethany was there. He entered, just as she and [member="Michael Sardun"] were walking across it.

"Ah Kismet, I was looking for you." Elijah said, giving the woman a nod. He looked at the man beside her, "Sardun." He gave the man a nod, before returning his attention to Bethany and gave his report.

"My men have integrated themselves with the ground team that will be setting up our base of operations. We'll be focusing on getting that up and operational before moving to the capital for the search and rescue."

After accepting that he'd be joining the others, and having their objectives laid out before him. He had voiced his desire to help with the second objective, as he had plenty of prior experience setting up bases before. Although he knew his men would inevitably get fidgety if they were just kept there at the base, so being able to focus on another objective would keep them occupied.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"] [member="Briika Tor"] [member="Bonde We"] [member="Vixley CM-01"] [member="Kat Rivers"] [member="Jakkor Kess"]

 

[Elisea Apollodor]

Objective 3.

Over Mandalore a Steadfast-class medical cutter having been sold to the Order of the Sacred Lotus now came through the atmosphere and began to head for the main points of the disaster. Stripped of its First Order emblem and colors, it bore the colors and markings of the new owners. Inside, the cutter was Elisea Korrado who prepared to engage in search and rescue operations.

Mandalore, she thought.

There was a world she never thought she'd be on, a world she had only read about. Elisea never enjoyed the idea of search and rescue, but she had the knowledge - on paper anyway. She arrived with the other members of the Sacred Lotus, the Avalonian knew her duties. "Bollocks," she said under her breath, "this is the part where I start to regret not taking Major Eldrel up on the Pararescue training." Securing her gear she looked out the transparisteel to see Mandalore. It was not the Mandalore she had read about, or seen in her dreams or pretended to imagine as a girl.

It had been brought to its knees.

One would wonder what a girl from First Order space would make of the Mandalorians. To her they had always been a myth, a legend - she'd never seen one. She knew what she had learned of them and nothing more. "Bloody 'ell, looks worse than Avalonia when the Ssi-Ruuk got done with'er." The brunette let out as her jaw dropped in horror. Placing a hand over her mouth as she got herself ready. "No, I can't - I can't," panic set it, she couldn't get out there and do this. If she couldn't even muster the courage to go through the Pararescue training. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, FIMS training would have to suffice.

"Ready?" Someone asked her, then tapped her shoulder, "Korrado, yeah? You ready? Here take these." He handed her an axe and a crowbar of sorts. She recognised the equipment so easily she'd trained with them during the advanced emergency response courses. "I gather you know how to use these, eh?"

"Yeah, I do 'ere 'bouts you settin' us down?"

"Not settin' ya down girl, lower you. We've got to get more people down there." He told her and secured a cable to her. "Right, just edge out toward the door - 'member your repel?"

No different than when she and her sister had gone hiking on Dosuun. Elisea nodded licking her lips as she took the smallest steps possible toward the door as someone slid it open. She was met with the terror that was Mandalore. Her heart rate increased and she wasn't sure if she could do this.

[member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Elijah Henson"] | [member="Briika Tor"] | [member="Jakkor Kess"] | [member="Bonde We"] | [member="Vixley CM-01"] | [member="Ijaat Mereel"]​

 

[Rianna Organa]

[member="Briika Tor"]

Rianna was in the middle of moving MandalMedical, and ensuring that the hospital could still stand on it's own. She had been here since the incident had occurred. She did not know where anyone else was, and did not look for them. Anyone who knew her and knew her well knew she would be at the hospital.

Many of the patients had been evacuated and sent to the frigates the Jahaal'got and Vencuyani above Mandalore to waiting staff. The ambulances ran as they could, ash often choked the intakes, and heat in some places had warped the metal. But they were operational..not as efficient as they once were but operational. Ambulances were able to get up enough power and personnel to join the building by building search and bring survivors the Center for evaluation.

Combing around Keldabe City from the air EV Ordo, Viszla, and Rekali looking for survivors.

She moved about as more incoming patients headed for the few clinics that survived and were transported over to the Canderous Ordo Medical Center. The Center had taken damage as well force fields were in place on the windows. Those in critcal care had been sent by life flight to Alpha Mae.

 

[Reverance]

EN ROUTE, MANDALORE

An speeder engine knocks loudly, down a busy lane.

A cutter treads water, off kilter.

A frigate thruster sparks and trembles in the dead of space.

Instability, in all it's perfection, was a trait easily seen from afar. A keen eye, looking coldly behind a pane of thick viewing glass, could judge it with ease. Particular from the frame of a man who had torn a world apart, seen it destroyed from within. This was the same song played with different instruments. And with far more voices to echo the inherent melancholy. No sad words were sung for the Yuuzhan Vong. No heroic tales framed the event, no legend born from the tragedy. It was an event, so loud, that went so quietly.

He recalled the madness like an old friend, they way it crept in as invited stranger. The way the world shifted before him, how it continued to do so, and how he felt powerful and powerless all the same. The mission of destroying the remnants of the One Sith, the dilapidated and crumbling monuments of a faction long past, had awoken some sense of purpose within him. Beyond the simple work of merchants and bounty. But as that resurgence had shown itself, it as quickly fell from view. Perhaps he would remain the last standing monolith of a culture that snuffed itself out, finding no true means of place within the politics of the universe. He had his mission and those he considered important. But above them and above all else, pain and entropy reigned.

He had ties to the Mandalorians. The sort of ties that when pulled taut, performed adequately as a swinging noose. While the Vong and Mando's both shared some sense of kinship in the appeal of a warriors quarrel, only one had ever been the target of this man's wrath. So when it rained upon Sundari, he was more than happy to watch as the innocent were swallowed in breathing fissures. When the streets of Keldabe burned, perhaps he would stoke the flames. With the deluge, he would watch with envy at the anger this planet had towards it's people.

Aboard the Leviathan Class Sullustan Monitor, he figured he would find vista without molestation. Even without the stealth, the world was in such disarray that they might look kindly upon offer of his generosity, ignorant his peculiar form of branding. Where he would go, he wasn't sure. He'd let gravity decide.

[member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Michael Sardun"]

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Location: Orbit – Mandalore
Objective: 1 ([member="Bethany Kismet"], [member="Jakkor Kess"], [member="Michael Sardun"])

A modified YT-1300 light freighter traveled at the side of the medical ships and transport vessels of the Order of the Sacred Lotus. Valae Kitra sat in the co-pilot seat, her fingers tapping gently along the console before her. She had discovered recently that it was very nice to have a ship to call her own. Sure, it was far from being a sparkling new craft, but it was new to her. She’d given it the name Tumbleweed, a nod to her past as a wandering Jedi and a bit of homage to her desert home world. Now, aside from the Sanctuary on Monastery – this ship was her home. Well, her home away from home.

“So, tell me what it is you all are trying to do.” Her pilot said, turning in his chair.

Ian was a good friend, one from way back when. Perhaps at one time, he was more than a friend… but for now, that was all buried in the sands of the past. He didn’t get away from home all that often, so Valae decided that it would be good for him to stretch his legs. And Ian was actually a pilot, so Valae felt good about giving the automated systems a bit of a rest this time around.

“Well, you see we’re…” She paused and turned her eyes up in thought. “It’s like…”

Valae shook her head slightly, her wavy brown hair swept back and forth along her shoulders. The task set before them was daunting, but if it worked... Well, that was a wild thought for sure. Of course, she’d heard the notes of uncertainty around using the force to re-stabilize Mandalore’s core, but it was well worth a try.

She trusted in the force, and she believed in Master Kismet.

There was a bit of comm chatter, she could hear voices checking in, and figured that she ought to do the same. She raised an index finger in Ian’s direction, and responded on the main frequency.

“This is Valae Kitra, checkin’ in. I am ready to assist with Master Kismet’s efforts to stabilize the core, just send me coordinates and I’ll be on my way down.”

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Above Mandalore
Objective 1, Rebalance
In Scene: [member="Michael Sardun"] [member="Elijah Henson"]

"There's no one I'd rather have there," she said with a smile up at him. "Though I don't expect there to be any serious trouble where I'll be- it's the folks heading down to the cities that will be at risk," her voice had dropped, chagrined. All of those focusing on search and rescue were volunteers, but in truth, she worried about them. She had asked him if he would go with them instead- and that had gone over.... poorly to say the very least. If he couldn't get her to stay in orbit, or better yet, on Monastery, well, he'd had choice words. Eventually, she'd relented.

Not as though, truly, either of them had ever been able to influence the other when they set their minds to something. But, she suspected, it was good for both of them. They were both quietly stubborn in their own way. Despite the fact that she thought he'd be able to do more good with the group heading to the capital, she was deeply touched (if slightly baffled) by his loyalty. And the smile on her face now spoke of that appreciation.

As they moved through the ship on the way to the shuttle, Bethany's comm buzzed in a nearly endless series of calls. It was expected, and she fielded them one after another. Once they were on the ground, everyone would largely be on their own, so this last minute check in she understood was important.

​"Bethany Kismet, this is Bonde. I'm en route to locate victims that can be treated, over."

"[member="Bonde We"], good. Keep an eye out and be careful. Do you have anyone else with you?"

"Master Kismet? We have a [member="Vixley CM-01"] looking for landing coordinates, where should we send him?"

"Oh, arrange for him to rendezvous with Bonde We- I don't like the idea of anyone going off on their own with how unstable everything thing, thank you."

She flicked the comm back to Bonde's channel. "There should be another ship incoming on your location to lend support, Bonde, over."

"Greetings Master Kismet, Jedi Kess here, I am prepared to help with the core, and await any coordinates you may provide with aiding in this task"

"[member="Jakkor Kess"], please, just Bethany," she said over the comm with a chuckle. "The ex-military types can't see to help it, but for the love of the Force, just call me Beth. Sending down coordinates now for the rendezvous with the Mandalore. See you on the ground."


“This is Valae Kitra, checkin’ in. I am ready to assist with Master Kismet’s efforts to stabilize the core, just send me coordinates and I’ll be on my way down.”


​"Not you too! Just Bethany, please," her smile was clear in her voice. "Sending you the coordinates as well, [member="Valae Kitra"]. Glad to have you along.

Juggling a half dozen comm calls, she paused as Elijah came up to them. She nodded, cocking her head to the side and watching him for a moment. She had been noticing a trend with him and his relationship to alcohol- their first meeting *could* have been an aberration, but clearly that was not the case. But he seemed alert, present- if he'd been drinking, it wasn't enough to impair him. She gave a small nod, more to herself than anything else. It wasn't a problem.... yet. But she was keeping an eye on it. He had a good heart, and so much to give- falling into the trap of that sort of demon was something she hoped he could avoid on his own. If however he needed support in it.... well. She, and the rest of the Order, were there.

"Very good Elijah, thank you. Your crew has been excellent, and I'm glad you all are here," she said with a smile. "When you head into the city, make sure everyone is partnered up, at a minimum, okay? No one should be wandering around alone, both for their own sakes and for the sakes of those we hope to help."

*****

A few minutes later, she and Sardun were strapping into the shuttle. A few others were riding down with them, but she had claimed the co-pilot's seat beside Michael. Emerald eyes shifted over the sight of Mandalore beneath them as the shuttle disembarked.

For a moment though, her brow furrowed. Something tugged, a seed planted on Atrisia pulsing in her core. It had been quiet, dormant, waiting for some combination of factors to allow it to germinate. She barely recognized it consciously, but her eyes flickered from the looming planet back into the black. They fell on a bare pinprick of light- something that could have been a distant star, but for it's movement against the dark background.

"What's wrong?" Michael's voice cut through the fugue, and she shook her head, trying to clear it for a moment.

"Nothing," she answered, sounding a little confused herself, "Mind just went wandering for a moment."

It wasn't that she knew, consciously, that [member="Reverance"] was there. But he'd left a piece of himself with her, and that resonated on a frequency she was just barely aware of.

Shaking her head again, she looked over at him and smiled. "Sorry, don't know what came over me. Let's get to the surface.... [member="Vilaz Munin"] will be waiting for us."

 

[Jsc]

​

Meran Station - High Orbit
Obj 2


Amid the hustle and bustle of the busy space station. Kat Rivers escaped to a long access tunnel for a much enjoyed coffee break. Mmm. She cupped the hot mug of caf deep within her palms and let the warm sensation of it's sizzling ceramic shell sustain her. Basking in the afternoon glow of the Mandalorian stars. Just outside the windows.

Alas. Then suddenly a woman's voice from just over her shoulder broke the warm coffee's spell. Pulling her back into the present.

"Nice to take a break every once in a awhile, isn't it."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Kat turned with a start.

Her eyes meet a young woman of probably similar age. A beautiful girl clothed in the astral uniform of a devout corporate scientist. Perhaps one of Meran station's original crew out from the Dashua Reach. She was tall, and thin, and of excellent posture. With long dark hair and deep, thirsty brown eyes. Coming to stand only a few steps away and clutching to her breast a happy smile. Anyway. She seemed quite charming. Really. Surprisingly so.

"Oh. Hello there. And yes, I'm just taking a five minutes peace. It's nice to be away from the computer for awhile. Hehe."

The other woman smiled and stepped closer. Her brilliant eyes flicking about somewhere just between Kat's nose and neckline. Then the newcomer spoke with a soft gesture.

"Well. Pardon the touch but. You've got something on your cheek. ...May I?"

"Oh?"

The other woman pressed a soft thumb against Kat's cheek and slowly caressed her face. Then smiling as she drew back and winked.

"There. Much better."

"Thank you I... Well. I don't suppose I know your name. I'm Kat. With the OSL. Lovely to meet you."

The other girl postured pleasantly and smiled,

"Grissom. Megan Grissom. At your service."

Kat smiled and hugged her coffee cup more closely.

"And. You're with Meran station's ground crew, yes?"

"Oh no. Hehe. No. I'm a weather specialist. A clouds girl so to speak. Well... Just an intern really. Still in university. And, sorry to interrupt your contemplation but. ...May I join you?"

Kat beamed with a smile.

"Oh? Yes. Of course. Please do. I mean. It's nice to have a little company on this busy station. Thank you."

The other woman leaned her back against the window's railing. Still staring at Kat with those wild, unmistakable eyes. Why, it was almost enough to make the poor Jedi girl blush.

"Ahem. So... Mm?"

Kat tried to hide her blushing red cheeks and looked back out the stary-night window. Wondering just what to say now.

"Hey. Do you want to go somewhere?"

The other woman asked with a mischievous smile.

Kat's cheeks flared from mildly curious to downright enamored. A scarlet letter even.

"Go go... Somewhere? And and... Do what?"

"Oh. I don't know. Make love. ...Maybe? Back on my boat. Down on pad five."

Kat nearly dropped her drink.

"I... I... Um. Well. I certainly couldn't do that. Not now. Not, um. Well. Thank you but..."

"Suit yourself." The other woman interrupted with a beaming smile.

Then she lifted her lithe body away from the railing and began to shuffle away from the poor blushing girl slowly. Teasing poor Doctor Rivers with a subtle sway to her long, long legs. Brushing the corridor ever so slightly her round and nimble hips.

"wait."

Kat gasped. Yet, the other woman continued her suggestive withdrawal. Stopping slowly only to unzip her jacket. Pressing her clothing aside and showing the scarlet Jedi just a little shoulder.

"Oh. Oh."

Oh dear indeed. Rivers palms were not hotter than her coffee now. My goodness. It might have been right to say that her own gushing heartbeat was now rewarming her coffee mug too. Bubbling and boiling with red cheeks and hot blood even. Still. The other woman continued her parade. Her triumphant escape. Slipping her jacket back on over her shoulders and sliding down the empty corridor with a wild and sexy smile.

Then she stopped. Just by the airlock door that lead to pad five and pointed her hips towards towards the door. Raising only one finger in gesture. Raising only one finger to call. Beckoning the poor miserable Kat to come along. Nicely. Safely. Down to her soft, warm ship to have a little fun.

"Oh."

Kat stammered with indecision. Her wild cheeks and desires all ablaze. Remembering her duties now. She had only stepped away from her station for a five minutes peace. But now. Could she really step away for much longer?

Her eyes darted back to the computer room where she saw Master Toms and the station commander still talking. Still distracted. Her own chair and her computer station still empty. Still undone. Nobody had noticed her exit. Nobody had sensed her slip out. So casual and cat-like was her escape. So quick and easy was her reprieve. Maybe. Just maybe.

She gasped.

Why, maybe nobody would even notice if she was away for just a bit longer?

...

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Above Mandalore
Objective 1, Rebalance
In Scene: [member="Elijah Henson"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"]

His jaw was set in response to the plight of those moving to the cities.

A frosty mountain is stubborn in the face of the endless onslaught of the ocean, some parts might be eroded as it gives in, yet with erosion comes deposition and what changes stays the same in the end.

Yet, that was the only response the Jedi Master gave in reply. They had discussed this for long enough prior to the journey and on the journey itself to Mandalore, there was no reason to continue it anymore. Instead Michael simply stood there, while around him there was a whirlwind of activity - personnel of the bridge moving back and forth, orders given and being given, comms connected in communicative flurry. The Mandalorians were strong, proud, they would not easily break, not even with a tragedy such as this one happening right on their holy world.

The amount of activity around the world... most of them from Mandalorian companies and some of foreign corporations, merchant fleets moving back and forth with refugees and construction material, only underlined this for him.

"Sardun."

The voice rocked him from his thoughts. A young man standing in front of them, he searched his memory, until a name linked itself to the face.

"Henson. Good to have you with us." Just a few words of encouragement, yet, it sounded strange in his ears. Years ago, when he had been a young man still wearing the stripes of a Jedi Knight... the words had come easy to him. To make a man feel inspired, comfortable and at ease.

Now? Now those same words felt awkward, like they did not encompass exactly that which he meant.

Minutes later he settled himself down in the pilot seat of the shuttle. Yet, as his primary attention was towards not getting them killed in the flight, there was a trickling of attention that went to Kismet. After asking if she was well and listening to her response, Sardun nodded and finally smiled. It broke of some the clouds hanging around him, made him feel slightly better and less anxious about the entire situation.

"Of course. Just don't have your mind wandering during the talks, because I am highly unqualified to speak in your steed."

He daftly maneuvered the shuttle, from the ship hangar into the cold vacuum of space and then through the atmosphere. As it broke through, there was some minor turbulence, but he managed it just fine. Beth knew scant details of Sardun prior to them meeting, he was evasive and did not easily things go.

But his handling would tell her something, that the Jedi had flown many times and as the tug of a smile hugged his expression, she would see that he loved it.

[member="Reverance"]​

 

[Bethany Kismet]

Above Mandalore
Objective 1, Rebalance
In Scene: [member="Michael Sardun"]

She leaned back in the co-pilots chair, chuckling to herself. While something lurked, right at the edge of her awareness, she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. Whatever it was though, was not a danger to her- not in a way that registered deeply in her core. While it tickled just at the edges of her ability to identify, it wasn't, for now at least, deeply pressing.

"That's a shame," she said with a chuckle. "I mean, after all, I brought [member="Hal Terrano"] on as the brawn. So you must obviously be the diplomat. Apparently I was tragically mistaken."

She sighed in mock tragedy.

"I suppose I'll just have to tamp down on my deepest inclinations and be nice for a change," she said with a wink. "Oh, the things you make me do, Michael."

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Above Mandalore
Objective 1, Rebalance
In Scene: [member="Bethany Kismet"]

His mind briefly went to Hal and his first few attempts to build the foundations of their home on Sanctuary.

It had been... interesting, to say the least, but after some assistance and practice? It'd surprised Sardun how well the Jedi Archivist took the task set out. Focus, intense focus, that was the way of their mutual friend. The moment a task was set out, he would complete it or work himself to exhaustion trying.

"Used to be I was." Sardun responded calmly, there was no real sadness coming from him, just a fact freely given away for just this one time. "But that's a long time ago."

The focus returned as he maneuvered the ship through a brief cloudy storm, but of course a snort couldn't help but escape him.

"You can be nice?"

Head was shaking in mock disbelief.

"I don't think you should overwork yourself too hard, Beth. Otherwise, I am gonna have to heal this planet all on my own."

Which sounded hilarious even to him. Especially because from the three of them - one an optimist, one an introspect and one with blood-soaked hands, Sardun was always the one cautioning them. That sometimes the Galaxy didn't need healers, that sometimes it was the lightsaber that won the day.

That to believe otherwise was to fight a battle against the turning of the Force itself.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxujAPhxlo0​

The slab of duracrete fell with a dull thud as Ijaat jerked upright, staring at the sky. There was little enough one could see of his features, but those near him could tell just by the stance of his body he had been poleaxed. Rage vibrated in the Force, boiling and swirling around him as a familiar presence tickled in the back of his mind. His time on Tython had honed his senses to a sort of psychotic paranoia to match his unstable mind and psyche. It took him a moment to realized he had picked up a rebar stock and had been gripping it to the point it had almost bent. Such were his senses with the material realm of metals and the like he could feel and tell the stresses in it.

The presence... It was just a flicker, a faint glow in his mind. It had been felt before, but it couldn't be.. Shouldn't be. The Wrath had to be dead. There was no other alternative. To accept the beast that had haunted his nightmares and unhinged his mind still persisted threatened what little peace he had been able to gain. Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he couldn't put it to rest. If it wasn't the Wrath, then he could not ignore that something approached that would spell doom for him, personally. A deep, pervasive sense of doom and unease. Nodding to the group he had been working with, he strode over to the battered speeder he had taken to driving and lifted a back-hatch. There, wrapped in rags, gleamed a footlocker and leather roll.

For a moment, he ran his hands along the items within, gazing at them. A longing ached in his breast, for the din and clatter of war and the hot-copper splash of blood across his face. Screams of agony echoed in his minds' eye, the shrieks of bombs and artillery. The sight of a broken temple on Coruscant. He stood, body frozen, mind straining, prying, trying in vain to confirm who he thought he had felt a flicker of. Across death and fire and agony he would recognize that presence, or so he thought. In doing so though, he was likely making himself a beacon for anyone with a lick of sense. Inadvertent thoughts would ripple out from him, a psychic seeking and a brazen challenge. As it rang out, hand tightened on a smooth cylindrical hilt among the belongings of a former life.

Come now, Uncle... Show yourself if you're there, bastard...

[member="Michael Sardun"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"] | [member="Reverance"]

 

[Reverance]

Still framed pictures brought to life, he moved through the vessel with disregard and malice. The images of his presence found shunt in the silhouette of a monster, loosely adhering the apparitions of his form together. As if even the dimensions sought to be rid of him, tempered by the former Wrath's stubborn resolve to persist. A beast moving through his metal cage, catching glimpses of the ghastly crew and how they shied from his view. In this form, he ran hot and without limiter, as quick to strike out as he was to ignore. It was this unpredictability that gave him leave of the ship, a crew of unmentionables that needed no motivation for performance. Their life, and all that suffering that might proceed it, depended on their success.

As a mercenary, an envoy of neutrality, he might have sought to hide the enormity of his anger. More controlled then, he would now exist on fleeing notions and self expression. And these notions found life in the flash of lightning, clapping silently through the dead of space. All across the world, sparks flew from the surface. The upheaval of tectonic plates, the stability of the planet all but gone, and now it lashed out. He found kinship in that concept, the way pain brought about more pain. He wondered, as the ship descended towards the planet, if he could be sated with an end here.

The ship cut through the orbit, only the sound of its movement to give hint of presence. And with the world shaking and convulsing, it was but a pin drop amidst the ocean of cacophony. It was then that he felt something, a mixing. Something he left somewhere else and something...else. Pieces of him scattered across the universe, ready for reception. The armor, living and breathing, shivered. The chitinous flesh, grey and scorched, roiled against his body as the clamps dug in deep. Pincers tore flesh as he felt his presence absorbed, the sounds of masticating jaws filled his very mind. A single eye looked towards the metal of the ceiling, a moment of euphoria passing over him like a warm blanket. Like another set of skin, the Yuuzhan Vong armor formed rigidly around him and flexed.

The Voxyn hand clenched tightly in response, bending in and out to abstract and impossible angles. The neck barbs halted their progression towards his twisted visage, restricted by shear strength of will. The mark of darkness was already prevalent, the aura of death filled him. And as the ship hovered above what was left of the Northern Forests, given ample energy from the rushing floods that momentarily receded, he kicked open the gate. All the many beasts of the Legion were inaccessible to him, so he would need to settle for standard transport. The speeder would do, falling from the ships open hanger bay with the Wrath mounted atop it. The stealth ship would remain airborne, avoiding the likely fissures and disruptions that would occur.

As he smacked the moving wakes of water, stirred by the powers of the planet and the engine overhead, he cut the throttle on and aimed the nose towards Keldabe. One way or another, he would find his quarry. What that was remained to be seen.

[member="Ijaat Mereel"] | [member="Michael Sardun"] | [member="Bethany Kismet"]