Subject 37
The Cracked Mirror
Zeltros
[member="Joza Perl"]
Jorg stepped off the ancient Lambda class shuttle with more than a little bit of a limp, his muscles protesting as he slowly began to walk down the ramp.
Mirial had not been all that kind to him, though he'd made it off the planet alive at least. The battle had been a fierce one, with both sides taking massive casualties throughout it's course. Nova had been lucky enough to get most of its men out alive, though the run in Jorg had ended up in with Sith was what had caused the unpleasantness in his leg. A lightsaber hurt, as he'd found out, and seared the muscle away in an instant.
It was something he was unlikely to forget, and something he wondered about.
How'd he gone this long without getting hit with one of those things?
The Soldier grimaced slightly as he stepped off the ramp, an action that took a lot more effort on his part than he would have liked. There was a lot of pain surging through hi, though the prospect of what he was about to do helped him overcome it more than a little bit.
It had been years since Jorg called anyone outside of the military his friend, even longer since he'd been open about it. Back on Bastion friendship was almost as dangerous as engaging in politics, and he'd always had to keep his cards close to his chest. Out here though? Out here it didn't matter.
The last time he'd visited this world he'd met Joza, a remarkable woman that he couldn't help but be fond of. It was she that had pushed him to start the Nova Defense Force, an act that had gained him significant independence. It was an odd feeling of sorts, being able to act on his own, yet he found more joy in it than anything he'd done in the last few years. That alone made him thankful to her, and it was why he'd brought the small present he carried in his back pack.
That and he wanted to see her expression. "Taxi!"
Jorg called out to one of the bright yellow speeders, giving the droid pilot the address Joza had given him in her letter.
[member="Joza Perl"]
Jorg stepped off the ancient Lambda class shuttle with more than a little bit of a limp, his muscles protesting as he slowly began to walk down the ramp.
Mirial had not been all that kind to him, though he'd made it off the planet alive at least. The battle had been a fierce one, with both sides taking massive casualties throughout it's course. Nova had been lucky enough to get most of its men out alive, though the run in Jorg had ended up in with Sith was what had caused the unpleasantness in his leg. A lightsaber hurt, as he'd found out, and seared the muscle away in an instant.
It was something he was unlikely to forget, and something he wondered about.
How'd he gone this long without getting hit with one of those things?
The Soldier grimaced slightly as he stepped off the ramp, an action that took a lot more effort on his part than he would have liked. There was a lot of pain surging through hi, though the prospect of what he was about to do helped him overcome it more than a little bit.
It had been years since Jorg called anyone outside of the military his friend, even longer since he'd been open about it. Back on Bastion friendship was almost as dangerous as engaging in politics, and he'd always had to keep his cards close to his chest. Out here though? Out here it didn't matter.
The last time he'd visited this world he'd met Joza, a remarkable woman that he couldn't help but be fond of. It was she that had pushed him to start the Nova Defense Force, an act that had gained him significant independence. It was an odd feeling of sorts, being able to act on his own, yet he found more joy in it than anything he'd done in the last few years. That alone made him thankful to her, and it was why he'd brought the small present he carried in his back pack.
That and he wanted to see her expression. "Taxi!"
Jorg called out to one of the bright yellow speeders, giving the droid pilot the address Joza had given him in her letter.