Private On Worlds Like These

[Jett Vox]

Planet: Empress Teta ​

Jett sat on a bucket, watching young children play while she sipped from a spoon that slowly rose up from the open canister, underneath the rim of her battered helmet. The loose fitting armor had been through a lot since she had joined the Galaxy as a whole, and it was a nice change of pace to be on one of the near Core worlds. She hadn't felt safer since she left her home planet. The thought reminded her she'd probably never see her homeworld again, making the spoon's steady circular rotation pause for just a moment. When it resumed it's travel, Jett was thinking of how much she really didn't want to go back.

Her meal was a simple soup of some kind of local water mollusk, but it was protein and that was hard to come by anywhere. At least the capitol city was quiet near the Space Port, and she could get some rest before her next destination. They even let a Mandalorian keep her weapons without much protest. On her hip was a classic DL-44, which looked almost brand new. Like it had been purchased from the manufacturer a week before. Like it had barely ever been fired. Against her shoulder was a DLT-20A Long Pulse Rifle. The barrel went past her ear, aimed into the sky. A snubble pistol was hidden somewhere on her person. She certainly represented the Mandalorian Way with the way she bristled like an arsenal, but that hid the simple fact that she barely knew how to use any of it. In her head, Jett was quietly counting her leftover credits. Every tiny bit had to be accounted for, because it was limited and when it ran out, there would be no more unless she could figure out how to get more.

A sigh escaped her, like the stress of her passing thoughts drifting away. She dropped the spoon into the canister, her leftovers clinging to the walls of it, with barely a scrap left. This wasn't her favorite meal, but she had already learned that it was a bad idea to waste any of it.

A few minutes later, she had pushed up to shaky legs with the realization she'd stressed herself out just thinking about her own problems. After a moment steeling herself, Jett reached up and seated her helmet better so that it wouldn't wobble around in it's ill-fitted nature. Under her breath she said something to herself that was lost underneath the old armor. She absently hooked the strap of her rifle and drew it over her shoulder, across her chest, hanging it from her back and turned to start back towards the shipyard. The repairs definitely wouldn't be finished, but she couldn't really think of anything else to do.

Wirewolf88

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen was not expecting to see another Mandalorian in the streets. He thought this was going to be a normal day of errands, and after Korda's visit... well, let's just say the Clone had enough of meeting his Kin for a while. And so it was back to life as normal, hauling two bags of groceries back home so he could make dinner. Or at least battle EL for the right to make a meal.

The shine of the armor caught his eye as he walked down the street, and he clearly wasn't the only one noticing it. Most passersby were clearly walking as far away from this Warrior as they could, and he couldn't blame them. Ones, he was surprised that no one had tried to call the local police on her with those weapons out in the open. The Empress wasn't Mandolare, and while weapon ownership was allowed, citizens weren't usually so brazen with it to wear them out of the house. Guess the old hand would have to help her before the police actually came around.

The Clone looked like anyone else walking around, going about their daily life. At least Omen did till he walked up from behind and spoke to her. "Gar ru'kir ganar gar besbe'trayce dayn o'r te tenn, vod. Tends to gotal'ur adate mirdir gar cuyir actually going at pirimmur them." (You should have your weapons out in the open, Sister. Tends to make people think you are actually going to use them.) Dressed in a normal bomber jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans, Omen looked like anyone else on the street, just the way he liked it.

Looking at the Hunter, he could tell she was young, and the way she acted told him the young hunter was still growing into her own. A subtle smirk came to his lips as he looked her over. Maybe he could give her some of his wisdom from over his years, and maybe his craziness, too.

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

Jett didn't notice Omen at first, instead, she was switching her empty food canister from hand to hand, as if she were looking for a way to discard it or put it away, but her armor didn't exactly have any pockets, or a real place to put it. Toying with the idea of hanging it over her rifle barrel, a voice came out of nowhere, causing her to loudly fumble with the can until it clanged off of her toe and rolled a few feet ahead of her. Jett stepped towards it, crunching dirt under her feet and bent down to retrieve it, which made her weapon shift awkwardly off of her shoulder where the strap clung to the inside of her arm.

<bzzthzshh...> "Haar'chak," <crackle...hisss> she swore through the voice emitter in her helmet which crackled from some damage that had never been repaired, but she gingerly picked the can up and straightened to turn about on her heel. <brraaaktt!> "Uh... Ni ceta... Ni ven'jurir te beskar'gam be kyr'amir." (I'm sorry, I don't know the local customs.) "Ni nu kyr'amur ner beskad be'chaaj." (I never go without my weapons.) <bzzzzzt..> The last part sounded as apologetic as the first.

When she turned around to face the man she was surprised to see a pretty normal looking human man, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of confidence and experience. Jett was glad she had her helmet on. The visor made it hard for people to see the expressions she wore, and it proved to be a real lifesaver in social situations sometimes. That, and she really had no place to keep it without wearing it. No clothes of her own to speak of, and an absolute and total fear that someone would shoot her or try to rob her if she did.

She wasn't exactly a coward. She didn't really fear dying, but losing her dad's armor so soon after he died was a thought she couldn't comprehend. Especially since she wouldn't be alive at all if it hadn't been for it.

<braaakkt!> "Tion'ad cuyir gar?" (Who are you?) "Ner ga'name' Jett." <...shhhh...bzzt>

A gloved hand, palm out stabbed towards him in a mixed apology and greeting.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Well, she didn't open up with an insult, so he guessed the kid all right. At least she sounded like a kid trying to find her way, and the way that weapon hung around her shoulder looked like she was a toy soldier rather than a real one. Hell, he would have half thought she had stolen the armor if she hadn't spoken the language. Switching to Basic, he said. "Yeah, most of our kind don't... Doesn't mean it's smart to carry them around civies. Tends to cause more problems then its worth." It was clear that she needed help, even if she didn't want to admit it. As she stuck her hand out, it was clear she had missed the bags he was holding. Man, this kid really was lost here in the wilderness...

It was then that he made a fateful decision. One that he hoped Aren D'Shade wouldn't make him regret. "Omen, it's nice to meet you, Kid. Come on, let's get that helmet fixed up and get some food in you from something other than a ration can." And just like that, he started to walk past her, only glancing back to make sure she was following. He knew what stepping into the unknown meant, and if he could give this young woman some safety, maybe karma would pay him back.

As they walked down the street, the pair would come to an ordinary townhouse, but when Omen pulled up the garage door, she could tell the setup inside was anything but. He pointed to a gun locker that she could put her weapons, inside being some verpine varients and his own camofaluged armor set. He then walked over to what seemed to be a workbench, gesturing for her to give her helmet over. If she did, he would place it down on the bench and start to pull the voice emitter in her helmet apart, trying to find the issue with it. "My partner's better with this stuff than I am but I'll give it a shot..." For right now, thats all he wanted, for Jett to stand still while he tried to help her. He didn't need to know her backstory even though it knew it wouldn't be good given he had found her alone and scared out of her mind. All Omen needed was to accept the help he was providing, no questions asked. Though Aren would probably have alot if she came downstairs.

Jett Vox

Aren D'Shade : For your viewing pleasure. I'm pretty sure either of us wouldn't mind you stepping in if you had the muse for it but only if you have the muse for it.

 

[Jett Vox]

Again her helmet did her a favor by hiding the flush of embarrassment that was definitely crawling up her necks and invading her cheeks, <braaaktthhsss..> "Omen, got it..." <bzzt..zzt..> she repeated, mostly for her own sake. People had a weird way about them. She spoke basic with a Concordian accent tinged by a more backwater outer-rim affectation. His name for instance, came out a bit clipped. More like 'Omeen.' She followed, but kept her eye out for landmarks in case she had to find her way back. This was the biggest city she'd ever been to. Most of the places Jett had found since leaving her home planet were settlements no bigger than the one she came from. Cities like these were overwhelming, over-populated. She found herself talking outloud as they walked <bzzt...shh> "I've never seen so many people together in one place... or... whatever those are." <brakktzzz..> Her helmet tilted towards a couple Rodian kids they were passing.

Her revire was broken by the clatter of a segmented miniature hangar-door being lifted open, and she followed him inside. At first she hesitated. Only one person had seen her face since she'd escaped from her captors/pursuers, and she wasn't keen on anyone knowing who she was, but a second look at Omen made her rethink. She needed to trust somebody after all. So she did. She removed her helmet, with the slight hiss of decompression and the fuzz of the electronics shutting off, she handed it over to him, completely ignorant of all of the information that simple gesture would give to a stranger.

Straight red-orange hair spilled out from the bullet-style helmet, as the face of a pale, anxious girl was revealed to the man. "So... you know a lot more of... our kind?" From her darting eyes, taking in the whole of her surroundings, Jett was able to get the idea that he didn't live alone, which was a comforting thought both for her and for him. She'd imagined her new friend as a lot of things, and lonely was one of them. It was good to be wrong sometimes. Instead of a single plate waiting to be washed, there were two. Where clean cups sat, there were pairs. The decor had the touch of a mix as well. Normalcy. It gave her a chance to relax.

Without thinking to ask she sat down. "I'm supposed to be looking for them, but I haven't found any. I didn't realize how big the whole galaxy was," she lamented. "I mean, it's supposed to be big, I guess, but dad never told us much about it." She stopped before she got carried away, "Anyway, I'm guessing there must be a lot of... us... if I just ran into you here." She watched with interest as he fiddled with the electronics in her helmet, repairing the severed connections that a month of heavy use had broken. "Ni ceta, kotep luubid." Directly translated, the last part was an apology and the phrase 'victory is earned,' but she used it to apologize for talking too much. It was a minor misuse learned from the way she was taught the language.

She set her rifle aside, leaning it against the interior wall.

Sergeant Omen Aren D'Shade

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The Clone turned towards her inquisitively as she pointed out the many species that lived here. The girl not being around other people didn't surprise him the way she acted like everyone was going to jump her. What did surprise him that she hadn't been off world before this. Mandalorian could be seen far and wide nowadays but how she got all the way Coreward, he didn't have a clue. It would be hard to get all the way here without any help from the rim planet like Concordia. (Thank the ones that he knew some Concordian trainers from back in the day well enough that he knew where the accent was from.) Guess she hitched a ride on a ship and got dumped off here... Noting how she looked at those kids (who looked at her with a combination of bewilderment and fear before hurrying away to tell their friends about seeing a scary Mandalorian), he guessed that she needed an education about the galaxy at large.

The second surprise of their first meeting was seeing that burnt messy hair fall down her face. Despite how shy she was, the Clone bet Jett could be turned into a looker with a bit of make-up and self-confidence. Then again, that was again more Aren's department to work on. "Aren isn't our "kind" but she works as a contractor for some separate clans and groups that she knows. Comm towers, Radar, most anything with electrical components. You'll see why if you meet her." Whether Aren would smother her would love or stare at her like she was the red headed stepchild while wondering why the Ones that Omen had brought her here.

The Clone just smirked as he let the kid ramble on, buttoning up the voice resonator back up and tossing the helmet to her. "Well, you found one at least, that's better than nothing." Omen came over and gave her an affectionate pat on the head to dispel her fears. "For now, you can stay here in the guestroom. Now come on, let's get some food in you" And that was that. The deal was done and she would just have to accept it.

Pulling out a chair for her, he let her sit down before starting to rustle through the cabinets, getting out some cocoa mix and mint picked for the garden outside. Coming back with a steaming cup, he placed it in front of the girl with his best comforting grin as he plopped down in his seat. "So... I'm guessing you hitched a ride here?" It was his open question to try to dig into how she got here and other than what she already had said, finding her kind, what she was looking for.

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

"Our kind," she repeated absently. "Our kind..." Her expression was distant for a minute but her rapture was broken by him tossing her helmet to her. With a hollow metallic sound, it landed in her outstretched palms, and with a modicum of surprise she eyed the electronics, which were now glowing lightly for the first time, the steady flash of red lights indicating it was in full operational order. "That's... that's really great! I don't have much I can give you, but..." she grimaced mildly at the head pat. The lump from a past fall hadn't quite healed yet, and the gesture made her feel like a kid again, but she wasn't about to argue with a warm meal. Her soup hadn't quite been filling and teenagers rarely ran out of room - especially with the active life she'd been living lately.

"No, actually. My family is from a farming colony somewhere on the Western Galaxy, don't ask where. I wouldn't be able to find it on a map even if I tried. This is my dad's armor," she set the helmet down on the table, facing her. "He taught us everything. I kind of thought he taught us his own secret language, but I guess not..." Jett didn't hesitate when he dropped the cup in front of her. In spite of how hot it was, she greedily slurped at it until it was almost gone and her tongue was numb from the burning. She winced as she prodded at the roof of her mouth with it. It would take a while before the feeling came back, "thanth you."

She set the almost empty cup next to her helmet and took a second to take in her surroundings for real this time. "I've got my own ship. It's ugly, but it's fast... It's really my dad's," she said with a mix of pride and a touch of sadness at the end. "I've sort been on my own for a little while."

Oversharing much? Jett thought to herself, then decided to shift the topic; "You're not really from around here either, right?" Even though she was young, a little naieve, Jett's questions weren't without purpose. Everything she asked was about finding a little more about the people who shared her dad's armor.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

To Omen, Jett was a kid. Then again, everyone under 21 or still growing into themselves was a kid in his eyes. That and the way she acted... It just seemed like the boots on her armor were still too big and needed to grow into them. Besides, how was he supposed to know she had a head injury? He was trying his best to comfort the kid, and they seemed to like headpatts in the cartoons he sometimes watched on the display. At least she liked the drink, though by the way she wolfed it down. Just watching her gulp it down like she was a Rancor, devouring whatever got close. "Lets just say you can pay me back with company for now." If Jett wasn't alive, all he would be is alone (Sorry Aren), and that was no way to live.

Hands in the refrigerator as she talked, Omen listened to her story. What she was describing could be anywhere in the rings. Pulling out a massive bowl of Tiingilar he had made for dinner, he quickly reheated it and put it in front of her. "I mean, he did in a way. He taught you something that only you and he knew in that colony, and while you were together, it was something special you could share." The Clone knew better than to dismiss her father to Jett. If their speaking Mando'a was one of their special memories for her, why ruin it? He had already made a mistake in treating her like a kid; why make another?

Sitting down on the otherside of the table, the Clone tried to exude the patience Jett needed right now. Guess her Father had taught her how to drive a Starship, too. Guess they both should be thankful she hadn't crashed it while landing yet. "Well, maybe tomorrow we can check it out and see what we can do to repair it together." Omen knew enough to at least make basic repairs, and for the things he didn't know how to do, he should be able to pay for. This little girl needed every good act she could get because it was clear the Galaxy wasn't in the mood to give her any.

Giving alittle smirk of his own at her question, he wondered if he should tell her the truth. In the end, he only led her on a bit. Saying he was over 900 years old was probably too much for her little head to handle. "You are right to an extent... Me and my partner Aren settled here to get out of the Galaxy's rat race a couple of months ago and I was a roaming soldier of fortune before that. If you want to hear some stories, I'm sure I could remember some for you. But why don't you finish eating first? You've got to give that growing body something to use." Omen only hoped his grocery budget could sustain her appetite if she wanted to stay.

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

By the time Omen told her to eat, Jett was already wolfing down the meal he had prepared, and she looked extatic about the multitude of flavors. "This is just like dad made," she said with gusto, pausing only a moment before she started stuffing her face again. A trail of the meaty broth ran down her chin, which she wiped on her gauntlet and forgot momentarily. "This is amazing..." she practically glowed as she ate, as if she thought she'd never taste this uniquely spicy dish ever again. "Scho, you fauch forsh chredish?" she asked, her mouth still chewing on a bundle of meat and soft gourd that made up the bulk of the starchy stew. She swallowed all at once, remarkably not choking with the way she was eating.

"So you must have been everywhere! Dad never told us much about the Galaxy, but mom talked about it a lot. Is it true Coruscant is a whole planet sized city? And that Corellians are all spice traders and criminals? Mom said that our people had no home, and that's why we left. She said it was too dangerous for us in the greater Galaxy because of all the wars." She dropped her spoon into the bowl, which had been swiftly cleaned almost spotless, and sighed as the warmth filled her stomach. She skipped her hazel eyes over his weathered features, as if he could answer every question she had. "Dad said it was the... um... Jedi's fault, but mom blamed the Republic. Mom and dad both said that they made a mess they couldn't clean up." Her eyes wandered thoughtfully for a second. "I ran my ship into another ship on the way here, she's pretty sturdy, but I can't say she's came out of it unscathed." She snapped her gaze back to his face. "I mean the hyperdrive is spotty for sure, and it makes this rumm...rumm...rumm... sound it didn't make before..."

Now that she was fed, her energy was high and her thoughts jumped all over the place. "...But what I'd really like..." she pointed at her rifle sitting against the wall "...is if you told me you could teach me to shoot that thing. Dad didn't like us playing with blasters, and it was too late when the raiders came--" she cut herself off there, eyes wide. She hadn't told anyone she'd been chased here by raiders yet, and she realized she'd been a little too comfortable talking to a stranger. "--I haven't been able to hit anything unless it was up close so far."

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen couldn't help but beam as Jett dug into his cooking. It seemed he still had that spark for making dishes that he used to have back in his restaurant days. That brightness only dimmed a bit when she mentioned her Dad again. It gave him pause enough to remember to sit down on the other side of the table for this conversation. The Clone considered what she was asking before giving his reply, trying to thread the needle of his story in a way she would understand. "More or less... I fought for the side that was going to stay up the longest or was going to do the least damage to the people surrounding them. I had long term thinking back then and I guess I still do now." With his fighting for the Republic, that was more or less right. At the time, he thought that the Republic was going to last past his lifetime. Guess the House of Life got its money on that bet.

The Clone smirked a bit as Jett tried to pry into his mind, or at least wanted to know more about him and where he had been. It was nice to have someone want to get to know him more. Something like that didn't happen everyday for him. "Yes, Coruscant is a whole planet sized city but Corellians aren't just into spice and crime. Corellians are some of the best shipbuilders in the galaxy. Ever heard of the YT line of frieghters, that was all them." It was an oversimplifaction, just like her mom oversimplified the galaxy. Still, it was the best way to give her the top level of bare fact amd leave it to her to dig in later. Still, he felt he owed people like Valery enough that he had to defend the Jedi abit. "I'm not going to say your parents are right or wrong but things happen. Some things no one can control"

Keeping in mind to pay to get her ship repaired or repair it himself with, Omen nodded and said they could make that happen. He had decided to ignore Jett's slip up of her past for her sake. The memory was probably still raw in her mind and the last thing the Clone wanted to do was make her relive it. Fiften minutes after she had asked for help, there was a laser cartridge in her DLT meant to replicate the gun firing as he helped her aim while standing up, sights aimmed at a electronic target the man had set up in the small fencedin yard in the back of the house. "Just take a deep breath and try to hold your form as you squeeze the trigger. Then we can see where we can improve from there." Given her handeling of the long weapon, he didn't have much hope for this first shot but who knows, maybe she had some natural talent that was just waiting to get out.

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

Jett listened intently to his brief story, taking into account the kind of man Omen was. The sort who wanted to fire as few rounds, and take as few lives as possible. She got the sense that his service was compulsory in spite of him being a mercenary, and she made a mental note that he fought for the Republic. Not that her dad had ever had kind words to say about Imperials or any of the other Galactic governments either. After she finished her meal - a meal that mixed with the mollusk she'd already eaten in her stomach - Jett followed him to the yard, her fist winding her hair into a ball and shoving it under her helmet as she slipped it back on.

He already had targets set up - proving that he wasn't willing to let his skills get rusty. After he reloaded the weapon and handed it back to her, Jett raised the DLT-20A Pulse Rifle and pressed the stock against her shoulder. She had fired it recently, barely a couple days, so she was familiar with the impressive kick the weapon had, however, when she swung the weapon around to aim at her target, it was clear she wasn't used to the weight of it. I was, after all, a pretty heavy weapon and she was not the most athletic of people. Regular farm work gave her a little edge. A politician would probably have had trouble lifting it, but Jett only had problems steadying the weapon. One leg crossed in front of the other, bracing herself in a stance that showed her lack of strength.

She exhaled, peered through the sight, and pulled - not squeezed - the trigger and the blaster barked it's first crimson shot. It shot right past the target and continued on to scorch the small embankment behind it. She was nowhere near hitting the target, but for some reason she beamed with satisfaction. <bzzt> "Kandosii! Mar'e..." <bzzt> Lowering the weapon she exclaimed through the helmet's voice emitter, now repaired; <bzzt> "That was a lot closer than before." <bzzt>

She turned to look at Omen, trying to gage his mood after that first shot.

Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Well, it was clear she wasn't exactly gonna make the markmanship team... But Omen keep a smile on his face at the result. Acting like anything else would have just discouraged her and that wasn't feeling she needed right now. Quietly examining her form, he gently leaned in, using his hands to correct it. "You should try to make triangles with your arms. The more triangles, the less wobble you should be because your form should be more stable. Looking by her through the scope, he zeroed it using where the first bolt headed to where he thought it should be and moved her feet to adjust her natural point of aim. "Close your eyes and and take a deep breath, then after acouple of seconds open them again, see where youre aimming. Thats your Natural Point of Aim and as long as its in the center of the target, you can't go wrong. Now this time, try again and follow through using what you know. Lets see the result."

Pulling back, Omen looked on as Jett steady herself in her new form. So far, he could tell this was going to be a long road. Jett had a low floor, her skills nonexistence. She was a fresh canvas to work with and if he tried to share his knowledge and get Jett to buy in that she could get better, the sky was the limit. But time was limited and if she really wanted to see her people, then the Clone really had his work cut out for him to give Jett the skills of a true "Mandolarian".

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

Triangles? She thought with incredulity, finding it hard to believe that this would improve her shot, but she appreciated the instruction and followed his lead. He leaned in close, but it wasn't uncomfortable. She felt him readjust her feet, scraping dust and dirt out of the way. Then she felt him readjust her aim. Admittedly, she was much better able to see the target through the scope. It flickered through the scope, which had an electronic sight that was in pretty good shape. It flickered only a little as it auto-adjusted the range-finder. Jett closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and then opened them. Her aim wasn't perfect. It rose and fell with her muscle-strain, but when she exhaled it steadied long enough. She squeezed this time - gently - on the trigger, and the rifle barked a single crimson bolt that sent her body back and the rifle arcing at a slight angle before it steadied and fell back to it's original spot. Jett hadn't seen past the shot, which she'd thought was aimed decently. Instead of trying to force the aim this time, she had waited for the sight to line up with the target and anticipated her shot.

She lifted her head over the scope sight and spun it towards Omen. <bzzt> "Did... did I hit it?" <bzzt> The shot certainly felt better than the last time, but she couldn't tell. The kick of the rifle had sent her head spinning and the pressure of the stock thrummed in her chest and shoulder.

<bzzt> "I think... I think I hit it." <bzzt> giddy in disbelief, she turned to stare at the target.

Sergeant Omen Aren D'Shade

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The former ARC chuckled at Jett's disbelief, glancing at the target to see where the shot had landed. It was still above the bullseye and probably wouldn't have hit an actual person, but it was better. Practice makes perfect, and Jett would need a lot of practice to catch up to her peers. Still, it was progress, and that was never a bad thing. "You got it on the display page at least. That's better than you were before. Now lets give those arms of yours a rest. How about this? I have some video games we can play, and after that, I'll start making some dinner for us. Sound like a plan?" If Jett said yes, he only hoped the young woman would like his selection.

The range of games was mostly shooters, racing games, or role-playing/MMO Strategy games. There wasn't a lot that a normal girl her age would connect with. Then again, she wasn't a normal girl. Either way, whatever they chose, Omen was sure they would have a fun time.

Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

"Video... games?" she asked after reaching up and slipping her helmet off her head. She'd never even heard of a video-game on her backwater homeworld. They didn't even have any droids to help with the farm-work. Mostly her and her little sister just talked, read what little they could find, and when they had gotten old enough, started sharing stories about the boys they liked... boys that were all now likely dead or enslaved. Jett pushed the thought out of her mind. She'd barely escaped with her life after all, and that was all she could have done at the time.

About dinner, she answered "Uh... yeah, that sounds nice." They retired to his home, and he showed her his selection of games, which were pretty wide-ranging in genre, but Jett had no idea to start. She eventually picked a shooter, and set to learning how the controls worked. Her hands were inexperienced, she failed almost immediately, but determinately kept at it until she could navigate the game's mechanics. Still, she focused on only a few of the controls at a time. Thankfully - due to her age - she adapted well and could figure out almost anything with enough time and focus.

Enthralled in trying to learn the basics of the video game, she asked "Is this also for training?" She wondered, mostly because the shooting portion reminded her of her own struggles with the rifle. Also because she didn't know games were for entertainment. One could say she was a little bit of a 'hick,' raised without all of the creature-comforts of the wider Galaxy. It was a wonder she could read or write, or that she knew two languages. Her planet had no formal schooling, and her mother and father had been the only resources she and her sister had back then.

She stopped and picked up the second controller. "Wanna show me how it's done, old guy?"

Sergeant Omen Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

The sharp bark of the training rifle carried cleanly through the townhouse.

Aren had been downstairs when the first shot cracked through the quiet afternoon. She paused in the middle of what she was doing, head tilting slightly as she listened to the second one echo off the back embankment.

"Omen…" she murmured under her breath.

It was not quite a complaint.

Just recognition.

A few moments later, the back door slid open, and Aren stepped out onto the small patio, arms loosely folded as she took in the scene in the yard. The young Mandalorian stood with the rifle still in her hands, helmet now off, bright hair catching the sunlight, while Omen watched her with the patient posture of someone very used to teaching.

Her eyes moved briefly to the target.

Then back to the girl.

"That one landed high," Aren said calmly from the doorway. "But it stayed inside the display field. Considering where the last one went, that's progress."

There was no mockery in her tone, only quiet assessment.

She stepped a little farther into the yard, gaze lingering on the rifle for a moment before settling on Jett again. The analytical look in her eyes was the same one she used when studying machinery, except this time it was directed at posture, stance, and the obvious fatigue in the girl's arms.

"You're fighting the weight of it," Aren added. "Your shoulders are doing most of the work. If you lock your elbows a little more and let your bones carry the rifle instead of your muscles, you'll shake less."

Her attention shifted briefly to Omen.

"You also forgot to tell her to relax her grip," she said mildly. "If she strangles the trigger, the shot will always drift."

Then her gaze returned to Jett, expression softening just a fraction.

"For someone who claims she has never been taught, that shot was not bad," Aren said.

A small pause followed before she added dryly,

"Though I would recommend we avoid setting the hillside on fire while you learn."

She nodded once toward the house.

"I assume the plan is food and entertainment now," Aren continued. "Which means you should probably stop before your arms decide they're done cooperating."

Her eyes flicked to the second controller Jett held out toward Omen.

One brow lifted slightly. "You're challenging him already?" A faint hint of amusement crept into her voice. "That's brave."

Sergeant Omen Jett Vox

 

[Sergeant Omen]

The way Jett said the word Video Games half made it sound like her colony didn't have power at all and that she certainly wasn't familiar to the concept. Guess that would change today. "It's like a computer simulation. If you ever had a Dejarik table, it's kind of like that except it's an image play on a display screen. You'll see, it's not hard to pick up." And with that he turned to the sliding door to go back inside, right into his beloved Aren. If Jett was paying attention, she would actually see the Omen's face go pale like he had been caught cheating. Because the only person he was scared of was the Raven-Haired woman in front of him.

Quickly, he tried to recover like usual. "Hi Hun... Didn't think you would be back so soon. This is ultrarare ginger human I adopted since you wouldn't let me get a Loth Cat. She is pretty fun to hang around with while still having the spice to keep things interesting. Can we keep her... pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?" The wink towards Jett was meant to tall her this was only an inside joke. They certainly would give her help if she let them, whether Jett relied on them was her choice. The Clone didn't want to force her into something the girl wasn't comfortable with, but he did know this. That if she was going to try to join the Mandalorian culture, her skills wouldn't be enough to keep her alive.

Letting Aren feed Jett more tips, he only playfully rolled his eyes when his beloved pointed out all the things he missed. Aren tended to like to do that a little too much. It almost was like she was having fun tearing him down, but she couldn't be that evil, could she? The Clone knew the answer. There was another eyeroll when Aren said that they would light the grass on fire. "I put a laser simulator on her rifle. The laser hits a target, and the target display records the position. It's all electronic. So yes, I'm actually not a complete idiot half the time." Well, maybe 1/4 of the time but still, he was right this time and that's all that mattered to him.

If the rate Jett was learning the shooter, she might actually become a half decent aim with an actual rifle. "Kind of. You can test out how to breach a room in theory at least. Mostly it's just for fun though." Omen just shook his head as Aren playfully chirped at them both as they ducked and weaved, taking potshots at each other on the screen. "Don't listen to her Kid, she is still getting over me winning in Yoda Party last week and she is a very very sore loser." He remembered it seemed like there were storm clouds above her that entire day. Maybe he didn't help that he had gloated about it either. But it was one of the few times he could say he won something other than her heart, why not celebrate it.

Aren D'Shade Jett Vox

 

[Jett Vox]

Jett snapped out of it when Aren complimented her. "Thank you! I mean my dad..." she stopped "...tried, I guess, but there was no time."

Jett shook her head. Her family only had a ship, and none of them had been allowed to fly it without their father present. If they had a Dejarek table, she'd never seen it, and she had no idea where they would have kept it. Jett caught Aren over her shoulder and laughed. "I was always told to share," She put the control back where she found it and went back to the game, a vacant expression washing over her face.

A moment later and she was mashing buttons again, trying to figure out the basics of firing. What she ended up doing was switching back and forth from scope-sight to first person. It was kind of odd watching someone use a controller for the first time. Then as the conversation between Aren and Omen continued, Jett tilted her head. "What's a 'Yoda,' and what kind of party does a Yoda have?" The last party she'd been to was her sixteenth birthday party. It wasn't much but the whole village had been there. All faces she'd never see again.

There were a lot of questions Jett would have, a farm-girl with a mixed Concordian accent, who came from a hidden planet at the edge of the Unknown Regions. She would 'heve a lewt of qweestions' for the two of them. Moreso, she didn't know anything about the place she came from. Surely there were clues aboard her father's ship. She considered, then decided she would make time to explore it when she got the chance. Suddenly self-conscious, she spoke up.

"Listen, I don't want to be a burden to either of you. I...I won't stay long if it's a bother. I have my ship, and I have a few clues about where I should go next. You've already done so much for me."

Sergeant Omen Aren D'Shade

 

[Aren D'Shade]

Aren had been leaning lightly against the doorframe while the two of them fumbled their way through the controller, watching the chaos on the screen with the quiet patience of someone who had seen Omen try to explain things before. Her expression remained mostly composed, though a faint hint of amusement surfaced every time Jett mashed a button and the display lurched between scope view and first-person perspective.

When Omen mentioned Yoda Party, Aren gave him a level look.

"You gloated for twelve straight hours," she said evenly. "That is not winning. That is harassment."

There was the faintest suggestion of a smile at the edge of her mouth before she let the subject go.

When Jett spoke again, the tone of the room shifted. Aren noticed the change immediately—the way Jett's shoulders drew inward and the uncertainty creeping into her voice.

Aren straightened slightly from the doorframe.

"It's not a bother," she said, her voice calm and direct. "You're not disrupting anything."

She stepped a little farther into the room, her gaze steady on Jett.

"You're also not a burden," Aren continued. "People who are burdens rarely worry about being one."

The words were simple, matter-of-fact rather than overly comforting.

"You have a ship, a few leads, and a lot of unanswered questions," she added. "That's a perfectly reasonable place to start."

A brief pause followed.

"You can stay here while you figure out what comes next."

Her eyes flicked briefly toward Omen.

"He has apparently already decided to adopt you," Aren said dryly. "At this point, sending you away would create unnecessary complications."

Then she looked back at Jett.

"So you can relax," she finished quietly. "No one here is keeping score...Unless it's a game."

Jett Vox Sergeant Omen

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Omen playfully scoffed as he glanced at Aren, ready to fire that claim back at her. "Please, if we were in a foot race, you would short out my legs the first chance you got and then laugh maliciously as you ran away. You can't say you are any better." They both knew they were competitive as all get out. It was a miracle they hadn't "wrestled" each other out of their bed and onto the floor during the night.

Grinning as he enjoyed the game, he quickly explained what Yoda Party was. "Basically, it's a luck-based board game with various planets as the game boards. Yoda is a character in it, kinda like a host that narrates as you go around the board." The Clone was surprised Jett didn't know who Grand Master Yoda was, but then again, he shouldn't be surprised, knowing where she was from. Her parents must have been more focused on keeping the farm running rather than giving her history lessons.

As Aren reassured her that Jett could stay as long as she wanted, Omen thought she couldn't have said it any better. At Aren saying he had already adopted the girl, Omen met her gaze and chuckled, shaking his head. "Since you still need to go to 'How to tell it's a joke' school, Love, I'm not saying we adopt anyone. But she needs help, and we have an extra room, so why not give it up?" Maybe they could give her some sort of "family" that she had lost, at least in feeling if not in being. "You are making a mistake by the way..." Quickly reaching out and gripping his partner's hips, he pulled her onto his lap like a snake would strike at its prey, his arms holding her in as he gripped his controller. "Should know better by now to come close to me."

Omen took it easy for the most part, instructing Jett on the game controls as he enjoyed having Aren close again. He couldn't help but think, If this is what a family is like, I want it. The feeling of having a group laughing and having fun together certainly was addictive.

Jett Vox Aren D'Shade