Private One Way Ticket

[Damsy Callat]

S T A R B O U N D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Wearing: This​

A Confederate Defense Force pilot wouldn’t do. ​

​

No, she had put out a holo-ad for some freelance captain. Preferably, they’d be Confederate-friendly, but Damsy would even take blissful neutrality at this point. She just wanted to burn as much stardust as possible…somewhere. Just somewhere. She’d decide exactly where later, as soon as her foot was halfway up some freighter's loading ramp.​

​

Now it was time to wait aboard Scarif's orbital shipyard, near the central docking terminal in the waiting/arrivals bullpen. She was dealing herself pazaak; playing against air, intuition, and time; sitting on top of her folded legs on one side of an upholstered bench. The main and side decks, and well as both of her hands, were spread out over the remaining cushion. The cards were parting gifts from Typhan Berrezz he had retrieved from Jorgen Fengris' belongings. So, it was from him too, though he hadn't returned with Omega Squad from Rodia. He would want you to have it, was the fact of the matter they both wholeheartedly understood.​

​

They would want you to have it. Half of Omega had fallen on CDF Command avenue, ground into the cobblestone by the friendly fire of a military contractor. Damsy closed her eyes and tried to will away their name: Breshig War Forge Consolidated. She had heard it enough during the day's inquest at Camp Phoenix on the surface below into their role in Omega's KIAs. As if its utterance hadn't made her sick enough, the ruling she had been hoping against had come at last. It was a slap in the face that your drill sergeant put all his weight behind and still expected you to stand at stoic attention after taking it.​

​

Fine. She could do that, but she wouldn't endure it.​

​

Damsy opened her eyes to a flip card draw in her hand. It was still her turn - every moment was her turn playing on her own. She just had to take it. It was high time to change her negative cards positive.​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

"This job could really save our skin." Mal spoke into the air out of nowhere. She often spoke to the droid, the ship, or herself to hear some form of sentient conversation, and to make sure she could still speak. And she seemed to say something like that every time a job cropped up. It was a job-to-job existence for the Stellar Kart and its meager crew, if you could call them that. The team consisted of a captain and a droid. A droid with a bad motivator that caused him to lurch unpredictably when rolling on his double wheels. That was one of the items on a growing list of things that would greatly tax their funds.

It was particularly difficult when you had few official affiliations. Mal had survived for some time on her late boss' clientele, which she tried to retain after inheriting the Stellar Kart from its former Bith captain. But most eventually faded away. She didn't have the history and trust that her mentor had possessed. Mal even tried to find a 'noble' purpose. A stint with the Resistance proved short lived, and after hauling junk metal from the trash heaps of Raxus Prime for a time, to be used to build up the Resistance fleet, the half-Nagai itched for something less mundane. Off again she went on her own.

She was a bit ashamed to have accepted a job from a holo-ad, having a reputation for possessing an intricate network of informants and contacts from which to derive lucrative contracts. But work was work, and browsing ads was easier than sweet talking someone into a lead on a job. A holo-ad didn't ask for anything in return. Though, this ad did lack in details, which cause a bit of chafing for the young transport captain, the most glaring ommision being a final destination. But the more elusive the client, the more they tended to pay for whatever they were hiding.

Mal had no issues with crossing Confederate space, or with the Confederacy. However, her pick-up was at the far edge of Confederate space, on Scarif in the Abrion System. The Abrion Sector straddled Wild Space. The name itself said it all. But as the Stellar Kart lingered in a holding pattern at Scarif's orbiting shipyard, all seemed quite normal and routine. Permission came over the comm to land, with an assigned dock and pad number. Mal eased the transport to its delegated spot and the Stellar Kat kissed the decking like a momma smooching her baby's fat little cheeks. The woman's slender fingers flew across the consoles, flipping a series of switches that would cycle down the engines and a number of other systems for final shut down.

Moments later, the pale-skinned spacer stood by the release for the ramp, S19 at her side, servers whirling. She ran those delicate fingers through long black hair, pulled on her cap, and stood a little straighter, her hand reaching for the blaster at her hip, only to find nothing more than firm muscle. Yeah, she opted to avoid the hassle and left the weapon onboard. But Mal was never unarmed, and a well-concealed vibrodagger was nestled behind her back, under her Chase jacket.

She looked down at the droid. "Try not to hobble too much, S, you'll make us look like amateurs." Mal chided the small droid, only to give it a smirk. The droid was her only friend, really. And no matter how they appeared, Mallory Bash was anything but an amateur. Her palm pressed against the release button and, with a hiss the loading ramp lowered and the pair strolled, and lurched, down into the bay. The deck officer approached and the standard parley proceeded. Manifest review, docking fees, refueling fees and "no... I don't need the windows cleaned."

Then it was to the waiting areas. At Mal's request, a holo image of her client was provided, so she could at least identify her passenger with more than the simple name Callat. A tap of her chronocom revealed the small flickering image that soon disappeared. A smack to the device convinced it to project the image again, allowing Mal another quick study. The job was a woman, a looker, Mal had told S19, who seemed incapable of commenting on the woman's appearance. Another tap and the hologram was gone. "OK, lets find her." The captain instructed the droid as they surveyed the thinly populated waiting area. The passenger was quickly identified, and Mal made her way to greet the woman.

Gray eyes examined the figure before her final approach. The woman was playing pazaak...against herself. And Mal thought she was the lonely one. "Callat?" The spacer asked, S19 offering a quizzical whistle. "I'm Mal, the ship is ready, but I would love to use a 'fresher that's bigger than an Ewok's coffin before we debark." Mallory extended her hand in the universal offer of goodwill, and of a sealed business deal.

 

[Damsy Callat]

S T A R B O U N D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Damsy looked up at mention of her surname.​

​

"Mal. Hi," she greeted as she unfolded herself and stepped off the spaceport bench. She took the captain's hand and shook. "No worries, I'll wait here. And, uh, thanks for replying to such short notice." Damsy stepped around Mal and S19, gaining a better vantage to point to point down one of the halls leading into the concourse. "Maybe ten meters down, hang your first left," explained the sithspawn. Those were strangely accurate directions from your typical civilian, Damsy knew as soon as they came from her lips, but her military training, so cemented into her being, was something she knew she couldn't just will herself to leave behind in her Phoenix barracks with her Dauntless commando gear.​

​

Minus her Kaminoan dartgun. That was the one physical reminder of her military career that she hadn't been able to leave on her bunk bed subsurface below. Maybe it was more to do with its connection to her home than it did to her tenure, as it had been the only thing she had brought of Kamino when she had enlisted in the Defense Force. It had been with her through everything, saberdarts and all. Many missions, such as quelling the rising coup on Vondarc, were aided by the unique weapon, but, even if she didn't pull its trigger on others, it was still an asset to her. In offering a sense of belonging, and of the tranquility of home, the secondary sidearm starved off many a bout of battle fatigue and shell shock.​

​

"I'll look after this little buddy," she added, gently touching a hand to the astromech's dome. As she did, a pang of guilt traveled up her arm. She already missed her ID10 seeker drone. Sorry, Squish, she thought. She didn't want to leave him, but he was technically property of the droid-loving galactic giant known as the Confederacy. Damsy may have had a foundational, relationship-breaking problem with CDF's War Marshal, but she was still loyal to their faction. She didn't want to stay to fight because of the former, but nor did she want to steal from the latter just to punctuate a point she hoped to the ocean tides her leave already would.​

​

Though, maybe not. She hadn't gotten the impression anyone but the men and women still of Omega particularly cared.​

​

She offered Mal a small smile, distant to a degree but sincere with comfort, before turning back towards the bench when the woman had drifted away. Only then, organically by herself, did Damsy sigh quietly. She got to gathering up pazaak cards, simply sliding them into a pile, before picking them up to shuffle and nudge them into a neat rectangle. She would sort them later; It'd give her something to do on board Mal's ship. The deck went back into its carved durasteel sleeve, which in turn was tossed into her rucksack. Taking it by its straps, Damsy tugged it closer to her and further upright, the movement cascading both her her deck and dartgun deep into the black pit.​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Damsy Callat

Astute gray eyes continued to study the woman. Mal desired to discern as much about her passenger as possible without having to ask. Asking a lot of questions was frowned upon within the circles she traveled. So the pale-skinned spacer observed. The woman named Callet wore clothing that smacked of the military, clean, with neat cuts. It wasn't a uniform, for it bore no insignia, it just had the military vibe.

Callet rose from the bench without a hitch, one fluid motion that carried her to full stature. Her spine was erect, her posture possessing the unconscious surety of physical training. And oh yes, a good firm handshake. A firm handshake, from any gender, gave Mal a good feeling about that person. And the precision of the simple directions to the refresher...the woman was no slouch. She was, or had been, somebody.

Mal lingered on the crisp azure gaze of her passenger before the glance broke to shoot down the hallway. "Right, be right back," The captiain promised, her gait faltering only a moment when the woman reached to touch her droid. S19 was about all she had. But in the breadth of a blink, Mal saw no malevolence in the woman, in fact, she seemed casually friendly and trustworthy. A rare few had given Mal that feeling.

After a welcomed break, the half-Nagai appeared from the hallway again. "They are probably still refueling the ship, but we can get you onboard and settled in." Mal offered, taking another glimpse around to see that her passenger had only the ruck sack over her shoulder. Interesting. "Oh, and do I call you Callet, or something else?" Callet had made a point to repeat Mal's name upon meeting, reminding the spacer that she should ask, to be polite.

Mal lead the way to the appropriate docking bay, S19 rolling behind, the hum of his servos glaringly uneven as he lurched several meters behind the women. They entered the bay and made way to the old Nova Courier, with refueling conduit still attached to her fuel cells. "That's the Stellar Kart." Mal announced with a wave of her hand. Without breaking stride, she moved up the ramp and into the small transport.

The interior of the vessel was small, but clean, though rather dated. The air was far from world fresh, but better than a lot of ships, the filters having been recently replaced. Mal also liked to drip exotic oils on them to give a hint of aroma to the stale air that circulated through the ship. "You can bunk here." Mal offered, stepping aside as a small portal slide open to reveal a tiny cabin. The bunk was a single bed built into the bulkhead, and a small inset offered a small bench and table that were also built into the wall. Two thin locker style cabinets book-ended a shelf and mirror. Turning, Mal pause before another cabin door that slid open, she plucked the cap from her had and tossed it into the room before the door slid shut again. A delicate fingers combed through the unruly black mane to tame it a bit before moving further down the tight passage. Mal gently rapped her knuckles against another door as they passed. "'Fresher."

Next, they stepped into a larger chamber, or larger for that ship. A circular table surrounded by a padded bench was nestled in one corner, two other small padded seats were bolted to the deck nearby. A tiny galley was set against a bulkhead. A bank of auxiliary monitors and controls were set on a far wall, as well as a holonet receiver. "You are free to hang out in here, and help yourself to the galley." A sinewy arm shot towards the small food preparation and storage area. "Also, the cargo bay is currently empty, so there is plenty of room in there to exercise, if you need to stretch out a bit."

Finally, Mal turned on her booted heels to face Damsy, brushing a stray lock of raven hair from her face and setting her feet a bit apart, like a good captain did. "As agreed upon, I will wait to accept payment upon arrival at our destination." She reminded her passenger. "So, the only think keeping me from getting paid, and you from reaching your destination...is telling me where that is." A thin brow quirked as a small smirk lingered on Mal's lips.

 

[Damsy Callat]

S T A R B O U N D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Upon Mal's return, Damsy turned on her heel, surprisingly balanced, and slung her pack over only one of her shoulders. "Damsy," she replied after a beat of considering giving a false moniker. In all her frustration and desperation to get away from specifically her - the - War Marshal and generally the overall Defense Force, she had already slipped her real surname. Well, middle, rather, but the name she used as the former nonetheless. Her true surname of Vi'dreya would have been parsecs more eye-catching, cluing Mal further into Damsy's true identity. 'What was a relative of the Vicelord doing hiring a junky freighter?' was the single question she didn't want Mal to come to ask.​

​

So, why not complete the pairing? "Damsy's fine," she repeated with another small smile. Tiredness cracked its foundations. She could think up another alias soon as they were in hyperspace, hurdling far away from Scarif, to use wherever she ended up.​

​

She followed dutifully behind the piloting duo. She let her shoulders slump ever so slightly, comfortable in the fact she was out of their sight. Following was a respite after so many years leading Omega Squad under two names of her own: Damsy, Niobe, and then Damsy once again. The Siren of Kamino was quite the wordsmith, or namesmith, as it were. First In, Last Out was the motto of the 117th Dauntless Legion and a phrase Damsy personified since day one. Now, though, she was looking forward to flipping that statement; be last in, first out; not to disrespect the commandos she still loved as siblings, but to revel in her newfound freedom.​

​

She looked up before they passed under the Stellar Kart, and gave a low whistle. "She's a beaut," offered Damsy. Though she wasn't complimenting for compliments' sake, she knew her father would offer to procure her nicer transport. Maybe she would have taken it too, had she not also know he wouldn't have let it take her across the boundaries of his space.​

​

As they come to and stood outside Damsy's habitation from the foreseeable future, she pokes her head inside. Not too shabby, she thought, sweeping the room with her gaze. She had stayed in much, much smaller for longer than she hoped this would take. She didn't want to spend the first hours, days, of her civilian life cooped up on a ship, but she had no choice besides staying planetside.​

​

So here it was. She stepped towards the bed and swung her rucksack down upon it. From there, she rejoined Mal's tour. Once in the Main Hold, Damsy set her weight evenly, standing very vaguely at parade rest without the hand placement, which were instead at her hips. She hummed in response to Mal's question. "Do you have a galaxy map I can play with?"​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Damsy Callat

Mal was not a terribly social creature. But, in all honesty, Mal was elated to have another sentient being to talk with, even though Damsy was a stranger. She looked forward to the journey ahead. There was a curl of a smile on her lips at the passenger's compliment on the ship. Though Mal knew the Kart was old and not in the best shape, she did her best to keep the ship at least looking presentable. As the brief tour wrapped up, Mallory had a feeling Damsy was not too disappointed with the accommodations, or she was being nice, either of which the captain would be happy with.

As she continued to observe her passenger, Mal was finding a begrudging respect for Damsy, but that would have been a compliment, because most respect Mal gave came so. The young half-Nagai could, at times, cop an attitude about those who seemed to be of greater prosperity, station or authority than her. And, though the attractive guest carried herself with the disciplined surety of someone with authority, Damsy's demeanor was anything but condescending. There was a story behind that woman, Mal could sense it. No uniform, little baggage, no destination. Either Damsy, if that was her real name, was on a secret mission, or she was starting a new chapter in life.

Damsy's response regarding destination was met with a slight tilt of the shorter woman's head. It was not what Mal expected. She turned towards the bank of monitorsand made her way to one with a key pad. Her fingers danced deftly over the holo-buttons and a galaxy map popped onto one of the screens. A blue circle pulsed around the Abrion System, indicating their current location. Mal looked back to Damsy. "Will this do?" She asked. The controls to zoom, widen and scroll the map were obvious. Mallory stepped back as S19 rolled into the lounge. A few quipped beeps followed.

"The refueling is finished. We can leave whenever you decide where you want to go." Mal offered without pressure. Instead, she went to the galley to fill a cup from a small device that carbonated water.

 

[Damsy Callat]

S T A R B O U N D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Yavin.​

​

After a few minutes of scrolling, zooming, and rotating, Damsy found the explorer viewport centered on Gordian Reach in the Outer Rim. Inside of its outline, a single sector label had glitched out of its layer, flickering between this and the one graphically below.​

​

"Mal?" Damsy called, powering down the galaxy map as she stepped away. "How's Yavin?" She slipped into the gallery behind the hybrid - like but unlike herself - and leaned her hip on the counter on which the carbonator was set. "Or Anteevy?" she offered quickly, remembering the nearby astronomy thanks to routinely committing both purple and Silver space to memory. "If ya don't take to Sithy space." She just hoped she would - that a sithspawn would be welcomed, or, even better, assumed innocuous and left alone.​

​

Either way, her random perusal of the galaxy map had sat Damsy's sights on Yavin. She would get there. The only question would be if she'd have to take a layover.​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Damsy Callat

Mal leaned against the bulkhead in the small galley area. She dripped a coupled drops of crispberry juice into her bubbling water, and sipped at it as she watched Damsy pore over the galactic map. Where would she choose? Was she looking for something? Or looking where she could get away from something? Mal could not fathom a guess. But apparently the woman had made her choice, as she powered down the screen.

The pale pilot perked up at the sound of her name, and then heard the planet Damsy had chosen. She quickly took another sip of the sparkling flavored water. Yavin. Yavin was Sith space. Mal moved a couple inches to allow Damsy to slip into the galley, turning to face her as the woman offered an alternative as well. Anteevy was a rock. Surely that was not her final destination. Mal had the urge to ask if Damsy was Sithspawn, but bit her tongue. Her perception of the Sith were painted by the Holonet. Authoritarian warmongers, draconian rule, dark magics.

Looking into the clear blue of her passenger's eyes, Mal found it hard to think Damsy was any of those things. So why Sith Space?

Mal cleared her throat. "Yavin? It will cost you extra, the Sith make moving through their space...complicated." Fees, and/or bribes, inspections, she could only imagine what it would entail. They didn't take kindly to anyone that smacked of marginally legal business either. After a glance down into her glass, smokey gray eyes lifted again to the mysterious woman. "But if Yavin is where you want to go...Yavin it is." She said. A tinge of apprehension raced down her spine, wondering if she would regret taking on the impressive Damsy as a passenger. Downing the water, Mal winced as the bubbles burned her throat. "We'll head out as soon as S19 gets the coordinates into the nav-computer." The droid whistled eagerly and rolled out of the room towards the cockpit. "You are welcome to stay here, your cabin, or come to the cockpit." Mal informed Damsy, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand before following the clunky droid.

 

[Damsy Callat]

S T A R B O U N D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

"It's no object." Damsy's answer in regard to the extra fee didn't miss a beat. She didn't add anything further, nothing drastic like whatever it'd take, because money itself was a little bit of an object and she didn't want to seem overtly desperate. And so she had to bite down a sigh of relief when Mal clearly accepted the proposed flight path. "Thanks," and then, "I'll jus' wander a bit, if it's all the same."​

​

With a curt nod, Damsy watched the pilot's droid usher her out of the galley. She had never been big into using astromech units to copilot or rear gunner in her Anura, but she had gotten one assigned to her for a time. She didn't have anything against them but tactical preference; Because she had been a front line commanding officer, she utilized more offensive droids. In such, it made the most sense to have one unit that could either plug into her starfighter or fight by her side down an occupied street, whenever either was necessary, instead of having to switch between models mid-firefight. That was how she acquired Squish. A seeker drone was best of both worlds, as far as she was concerned.​

​

She remembered the first droid had begun to lurch after a particularly jostling bout of space ace training. She could also recall that she had fixed her herself, but not how, nor what had been wrong.​

​

Rummaging through the cupboard and switching on the faucet as she thought on it, Damsy poured herself some water. Fully preoccupied - what was the part, now? - she rose the fresh water to her lips and took a sip...​

​

"Aw, sheb—!" ​

​

The burn was immediate, and sent Damsy floorward. She was able to sprawl an elbow and catch herself on the countertop, but doubling over did nothing to save Mal's glass. It fell to the floor, shattering upon impact, though not nearly as much as one might have thought it might. None of the glass shards nicked her, but the water that splashed from the crystal sure did.​

​

And the burn spread.​

​

Damsy jumped back from the island, and likewise leapt into action. Though she hadn't made this mistake herself in a long time, she remembered what to do, if not for too many drunken rookies that she made to hydrate sloshing their beverages onto her. "Indecent!" she yelled up to Mal, regardless of if she had already responded to the incident yet or not. She took to one leg and then the other, bending over in time to yank off her combat boots. She made sure to step back down each time away from the puddle she had made. ​

​

Next, she peeled off her black trousers. They were splattered up to the knee, marks that had mostly soaked through to skin. The patches in question were no longer copper but turning dull grey-blue, chapped, and scaly? ​

​

"Glass too. Be careful!" ​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Mal headed to the bridge, no closer to learning who exactly Damsy really was. S19 whistled and beeped. Mal nodded and shrugged. "Yeah, she does seem nice." And loaded. The mention that price was no object had titillated the freighter captain. Her philosophy proved true. Mysterious passengers with mysterious destinations meant more money. Not that she would gouge Damsy. You didn't keep in business with a reputation for overcharging. Besides, she would feel bad doing that to the stranger on board, for some reason.

She was almost there when she heard the sound of broken glass back in the lounge/galley. She called back. "Are you alright?" There was a moment of silence and she turned to head back down the passageway. Damsy called back that she was indecent. So, her passenger was not the locker room type of gal. Too bad. The subsequent admonition regarding the broken glass was obvious, given the crash Mal heard. She paused, considering honoring Damsy's modestly. What was she doing back there? Well, it was LMal's ship, and she had the right to know what was going on. Mal turned to S19. "Get the coordinates in and start things going." Then she turned to head towards the galley.

"I'm coming back..." She decided to warn Damsy, it was the least she could do before barging in. What met her as she stood in the doorway was unexpected, very unexpected. The woman was on the floor, with no pants on. yep...she was definitely indecent, but decently so, Mal thought. The woman's boots were tossed aside with her pants. And her legs, well, weren't quite legs any more. Patches of her smooth bronze skin were giving way to a cooler pale blue, and the supple texture had turned scaly.

"Oh..." Mal said, truly caught off guard, her hand pressed to her head in confusion. "I...uh..." She turned her head away, but almost immediately turned it back. "Can I... are you ok...do you need help?" It was not the only question she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask 'what the hell are you?'

 

[Damsy Callat]

S Q U A L O I D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

The cat was out of the bag.​

​

Or, the shark was out of her pants, as it had unfolded in the Stellar Kart's galley. ​

​

By the time Mal had burst into the room, Damsy's mind was fogged with pain. She didn't have the capacity to think to hide her turning form. Somehow though, she had just enough to manage to answer, "Y-yeah." Okay was relative, right? She was, in fact, okay for her. Pain was half of her existence, both in and out of the water, the latter as evidenced now. Of the many physical charges she had undergone on Atrisia after being infected by the Blackwing virus, ease of metamorphosis had not been one. On top of that, the labored pain of transformation, though it had been a constant in her life since birth, had never been tolerance she had been able to develop. She was used to the experience, but also not. Every time she metamorphosed, it was as if it was her first time, but it wasn't.​

​

This time wasn't the exception, though she had only turned spottily, rather literally. Everything, even her unexposed skin, burnt. She could feel the watermarks riddling her legs begin to soaked through the sinew and bone, as her weight slowly became heavier on her frame. An extended hand found the counter to brace, moving to hide the offensive sight behind the bar as she turned to face the pilot. Her blue eyes had begun to glass over, and the outline of a thin, clear, supplemental eyelid running perpendicular to the first was beginning to pronounce.​

​

She had to grit her teeth to speak somewhat steadily. "Allergic response."​

​

Hell of.​

​

She held up a normal - thank the tides - hand. "I'm fi...ne. Just, just need to...uh..."​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

They weren't even out of the docking bay and something had gone wrong. Her passenger, who promised to pay well for transport to her destination, was on the floor, her skin...well, Mal didn't know what the hell was happening to it. But it wasn't good, and everything about Damsy's voice and features betrayed the fact. It did not bode well. Spacers were a bit superstitious and it had rubbed off on Mal. She hoped the incident wasn't an indication of the sort of luck they would have on their journey. They would need a lot of good luck on their way to Yavin. If they could even continue on with it.

Poor Damsy. Mal could not fathom had had happened. The strange random blotches that appeared on the woman's legs were a stark grey-blue next to her bronze skin, and there was pain in the woman's tense voice. Allergic reaction? It looked like acid had been splashed on her. What in the room was she allergic to? All Mal could see was the broken glass and spilt water. Clueless about how to help Damsy, Mal inched closer, trying to examine the strange scaly patched closer, even though the woman seemed a bit embarrassed. It was obvious Damsy was trying to contain her distress. Mal had to do something.

She should get the med pack. But maybe whatever the substance was that caused the injuries needed to be washed off first. Walking around the broken glass and shed pants towards the water dispenser and retrieved another glass. "I can get some water to wash it off." She said nervously, quickly filling the glass. Once she washed off whatever it was, Mal could grab the med pack across the room and tend to the wounds.

 

[Damsy Callat]

S Q U A L O I D​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

"No." ​

​

Damsy took a step back at the mere sight of more freshwater, unintentionally throwing her stability. She collapsed to the floor, unable to catch herself, but fortunately not into the puddle. "I need to dry out," she explained shakily.​

​

Damsy paused then. Thinking over her best conversational course of action was like trying to fly a fighter through a fogged-out mountain range with a busted radar system: Damn near impossible. And she didn't have time to figure it out there, sprawled on the floor. So she abandoned trying to contextualize further - for now, because she at least could see now that backpedaling from this incident was not an option - and instead reached up and out to the raven-haired flygirl in her midst. "J-just help a g...girl to her bunk?"​

​

From there, she'd be able to take care of herself.​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

No.

Damsy's sharp, unexpected refusal of the water startled Mal. The woman back pedaled and went to the floor again, struggling with her afflicted legs. It was gelling for the captain. Damsy said she needed to dry out. It was the water, or something in the water. Confused grey eyes looked down at the inocuous clear liquid in the glass she held, then dumped it into the sink.

Setting the cup aside, Mal yanked two towels from a small drawer. Mal made her way back to Damsy, laying one towel on the spilled water, and holding out the other one to the pantless woman. Her other hand reached to take Damsy's, her slender legs planting wide as she pulled to help the woman to her feet.

With an arm around Damsy's waist, Mal held the taller woman close as she guided her passenger out of the lounge/galley and down the narrow passage to the guest bunk. Inside, Mal eased Damsy onto the edge of the bed. She was not sure what to look at. with a sudden awkwardness, Mal avoided Damsy's gaze, fearing it would only make the woman feel more embarrassed. Besides, Damsy was beautiful, and Mal was a bit shy about holding the woman's gaze too long anyway. And she didn't want to make a big deal out of looking at Damsy's wounds either. And yet, the spacer didn't want to make it appear like she was unsure of what to look at. So she lingered on Damsy's feet for a moment. They were quite nice, for feet. Nope, that felt even more weird. Mal finally looked up at Damsy anyway with a sheepish smile.

"What else can I get you? I will bring your pants and boots back in here for you." She offered, wanting to help but still vexed by what had happened and unsure of what, if anything, she could do.

 

[Damsy Callat]

D E H Y D R A T E​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Damsy laid down on her back in more of less the middle of the mattress. "No, no," she croaked, lulling her head sideways to look at Mal. "I can do that when I'm back...back on my feet." When she fought to smile, she kept her lips together, unwilling to show sharpening teeth if they too had begun to change. As of yet, she couldn't quite gauge that.

"One-time affair, 'promise," she added. "Sorry I karked up the superstition or whatev'." Starfighter pilots had similar flight delusions and, while Damsy often reasoned herself above them, she understood. The pitch dark vacuum was scary and over it they held no control when removed from the bit of metal they drifted through it in. In such, the many superstitions made complete scene: Compulsions all spacers walked though religiously to comfort themselves with a false notion of more safety than they had.

And Damsy didn't blame them. So, she was still sorry to Mal. For shattering her notion of control with that glass in the galley.

"Still willing to take me?" She tried to chuckle but coughed instead. She contained it with the back of her hand to her mouth. "If ya are, you can go to the cockpit for me. I hate being coddled." Especially over this. She wasn't used to the pain, true, but she was used to the process. The sensation just came with in, hand in hand. She had gotten good at riding it out. The trick was not to panic, either herself or those around her.

Too late for the latter in seemed, though not the former. She just needed to be alone. Mal's confusion teetered on on boarder of fear, and was doing Damsy no favors.

Rolling her head back into an upright position on her pillow, Damsy closed her eyes. Whether before or after Mal had exited, Damsy called on the Force. Her former Knights Obsidian master Gerwald Lechner had taught her to use Tapas for self-dehydration. It was a tricky - and dangerous - power adaptation to get right, as she only wanted to be rid of the water afflicting her rather than her entire body's volume. Red ribbon of heat rippled up her body at her command. All at once, she began to feel freshness retreat from her deep tissues back to the surface of her skin where it evaporated. She breathed out raggedly then, steam and imbued heat and sweat all making her skin crawl in the unbearable heat. Surely now her copper skin was draining of the color as it went clamy.

Just a little bit more...

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

This one wasn't one to be coddled, as Damsy declared and proved by her stalwart resistance to more help than was absolutely necessary. Mal sensed that Damsy really did have her situation under control. Mal sure as spacedirt didn't know what to do anyway. Whatever it was that had afflicted the mysterious woman, Damsy seemed quite familiar with it and its consequences.

Assured that there was nothing further Mal could do, the Nagai half-breed gave a small nod of her head. "Alright, I'll have S19 clean up the glass once we get underway. " The woman's pants and boots will be left undisturbed as Damsy wished.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Sometimes, the best journeys begin with some bad mojo, we won't let it mar our trip, right?" She offered with a small smile. Mal had a feeling from Damsy's tone that she was not really the superstitious type, but Mal included her in the 'we' anyway. She actually was looking forward to having a 'we' instead of an 'I' for a while.

"If you do need anything, just hit me up on the comm." She pointed to the small communication panel on the wall near the bed. "And you may want to strap in, we'll be heading out soon." She added, her slender pale hand moving to indicate the safety belts on the bed. With those final instructions, Mal turned and left Damsy to recover.

In the cockpit, S19 whistled at its captain's arrival. "Good, lets get out of here." She said, settling into the control seat and strapping in. She had lost her slot to depart, the incident with Damsy delaying her departure after receiving permission. But the okay to depart came again soon, and Mal's skilled hands brushed over the myriad of controls on the ship's console.

The Stellar Kart Lifted slightly from the deck as the landing struts retracted. The transport was guided carefully to the exit of the docking bay and out into the darkness of space. The trip to the hyperjump-off point was short, and before long Mal's hand drew back on the lever that sent them into hyperspace.

Mal looked over to the droid as she unbuckled her safety belt. "I don't know about her, S, but she sure as hell is interesting." A low whistled sounded from the blocky droid. " I know that is where she wants to go, but she doesn't seem like Sith. You know, its not like they all mope around in dark robes or black armor and breath fire or choke people out with the Force or whatever. They are people. Just, not the kind of people we usually want to associate with."

Her gaze was tossed down the exit to the cockpit. She felt alright about Damsy, and Mal trusted her instincts. "Be nice to her, she is going to pay us a lot to get her there."

 

[Damsy Callat]

DAMAGE CONTROL​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

So far, Mal was taking this better than any commando ever had. She hadn't seen gills, blubber, or a tail yet - while most of them had - but she would take not getting knocked in her newly-sharpened teeth any way she could.​

​

Damsy forewent strapping in for departure as Mal had suggested. She was used to being a standing passenger on dropships. Few and far between were the chances to sit down upon for entry into a deployment zone. From taking off out of their mothership's hangar to dropping into atmosphere to speeding through fire, she had simply held onto either a grab handle or the nearest buddy. Through enough practice and a wide stance, either had come to offer her enough stability. The first time she had flown through anti-fighter fire, she had almost taken Captain Aah'valia to the deck. ​

​

And so Damsy, groaning as she heard the undocking procedures begin, reached up to find a handhold above her bed. With it, she pulled herself up, grunting some more. Tapas was working. She didn't have to glance at her legs to know her humanoid color - and texture - was coming back. She could feel it: Dry but not. Human skin was moist in its own way, retaining water in some form as scales and blubber wicked it away.​

​

Slowly, Damsy stood from her temporary mattress and staggered across the room. She might have reversed anaphylactic shock, but she was far from healed. She couldn't ease the phantom pain of her atoms rearranging from rearranging themselves. She pressed the button on the door controls to swish it open, a mechanized sound that effectively covered up her sigh tinged with a siren's warbly vocalizations. She glanced down the hall.​

​

Getting back to the main hold seemed like the most challenging of any Dauntless mission she had been tasked with.​

​

But that made she all the more compelled to see it done.​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

With the Stellar Kart in hyperspace and on-course, Mal left S19 to monitor their progress while the half-Nagai captain checked on transducer that had been known to be glitchy and drop them out of hyperspace. The circuits looked to be holding up, and sealing up the access panel in the bulkhead, she peered down the corridor to see the back of Damsy staggering towards the hold.

"She is one stubborn woman..." Mallory murmured to herself as she made her way after the woman.

Stormy gray eyes watched the dark-haired woman move into the hold before turning back and stepping into the cockpit. "S, scan the holonet for anything on Damsy Callet." Mal typcially does some form of research on potential passengers before taking them onboard. But she had very little to go with on Damsy until she was actually on her ship. There was something about the woman that suggested she was far from a normal space-faring passenger. She would see what the holonet pulled up. But if she felt it necessary, she would hit up some folks who might have the scoop on the mysterious water-allergic woman.

Mal turned again down the hall and strolled into the hold to see how Damsy was doing, and what she was doing up when it appeared she was not fully recovered from her incident. "How are you doing?" Mal asked.

 

[Damsy Callat]

B A C K T R A C K​

Tag: Mallory Bash​

Long gone were the days Naroh Se or Typhan Berrezz comforted Damsy through the after effects of metamorphosis. ​

​

One was dead and the other she had left behind. Talay had been the first time in ages she had shifted back into humanoid form without either of them. The loneliness had magnified her physical pain by at least two times then, not even a week ago, but now it worsened her experience tenfold. She felt her heart in her aching femur, and the bone throbbed with even beat of blood. Against the scalding, pulsating waves, she grit her teeth.​

​

This time, she hadn't just transformed into a shark, but that was the one change she had been able to reverse. The other she found she couldn't, for she was still undergoing it - but of her own volition:​

​

From a Dauntless officer to a wayward mercenary.​

​

What was she doing to herself?​

​

This is the way, she mouthed to herself. A thought wouldn't do to convince her, but she didn't want to talk aloud either. Mallory had enough evidence to think the sithspawn strange; she didn't need more. A danger, even, maybe. Damsy had to steel herself. Be ready for a long-walk-out-of-the-airlock kind of eventuality. Or, maybe not. She was ready to join her gunned down commandos, but still, dying at the first steps she had taken on her own two feet out of Dauntless' embrace would be disappointing, if only until she found her way into another sort of embrace.​

​

Damsy was pulling on her trousers by the time Mal appeared to ask her question. She paused with hand on the button, pushed halfway through its fly closure. Her brow slowly unknotted as she found response. "Yeah, yeah, fine," was said almost as if she was convincing herself. Being a bad liar made for a good small unit leader, but her sort of honestly had no place in espionage. That's why she had on two occasions only accepted work with Agent Ciri Jade and CICOM. "Thanks."​

​

A surface perusal of the holonet would turn up few articles and a video about their passenger:​

• Capital Times: 'Fennesa Festival of the Lost - Time to Mourn the Newly Departed' (article)

Dated about four days ago, the piece reported on a mass celebration of life held on Fennesa, just outside of Confederate space. The article's main focus was on the military funeral the local government allowed the galactic giant to host. An excerpt follows:​

​

"The CDF's most recent losses to the Agents of Chaos at Rodia and Talay were remembered fervently by survivors. Nearly every squadron of their 117th Dauntless Legion, CDF's only wholly-organic outfit, was touched by the invasion, but not all chose to be present at the proceedings. Indeed, the festivities were very personal for those in attendance, culminating to the lighting of floating paper lanterns and, in at least one case, the erection of battlefield crosses.​

​

"Omega Squad, Dauntless' pride and joy originally made up of nine commissioned men and women and two officers, was this case. Adjunct-Major Damsy Callat and Lieutenant Typhan Berrezz rallied their numbers on top of an unassuming hill overlooking the Fennesaian capital of Roosthold to hold their own private ceremony. ​

​

"'Every death matters in war,' said Callat when asked about Omega's treatment. 'Every single one man and woman torn from us deserves to be remembered. Omega was - is - the best of the best. Before they were put under my command, they were under the War Marshal's. They don't deserve better than any other squad, just the individual recognition of a separate ceremony.'​

​

"Berrezz further explained, 'We set up the [battlefield] crosses because we didn't have time to do it on Rodia before extraction.'"​

• Capital Times: 'An Interview with the Siren of Kamino' (article)

Damsy Callat was listed as the so-called Siren of Kamino. Apparently, the nickname had gone down not just in CDF mythos but Confederate too. Most of the article was vague though, with Damsy replying to most questions with "That's classified."​

• 'Surviving an Urban Warscape: Tips from CDF Adj-Major Damsy Callat Vi'dreya' (video)

No other source used her full name.​

• The Eastern Systems Tribune: 'Missing on Kamino' (article)

"A Confederate R&D envoy visiting Tipoca City to tour its tech labs has found a key scientist, Naroh Se, to be missing. No headway has been made in finding the former caretaker of CDF Adj-Maj Damsy Callat due to apathetic Kaminoan culture."​

​

 

[Mallory Bash]

Tag: Damsy Callat

The stubborn passenger, for it was clear that Damsy was either stubborn or an over-achiever, was struggling to dress when Mal walked in. The strange woman didn't seem to be as fine as she stated. But Mal knew that 'fine' was the universal code word for 'not fine, but I don't want to talk about it with you." The transport captain chose to respect her passenger's wishes. It was wiser not to press into someone's business uninvited. That was what surfing the holonet was for. Convinced that Damsy didn't need, or didn't want, help, Mal nodded. "Give me a buzz if you need anything." The half-Nagai offered before turning to return to the cockpit to see if S19 dug up anything on the unusual woman.

"So, any scoop on our lovely passenger?" Mal quipped as she sidled up next to the boxy droid and leaned a hand against the console to examine the screen. Several articles were tabbed. The droid whistled and rolled back several paces to give its master room to read. Stormy gray eyes began to scan over the articles the droid had discovered. They were mainstream, public sources, easy to find, but usually not very in depth. But anything would be welcomed.

Those piercing eyes narrowed as Mal read through the stories. "Well coat my nethers in krat jelly and hang me over a wywasp's nest..." Mal murmured to herself, quoting her former mentor's favorite phrase, only altering it for the appropriate gender anatomy. "Major Callet. She is military, a blasted commando..." That explained a lot about how Damsy behaved, but not why she was on her ship instead of a Confederacy ship, and without a uniform. "Looks like her unit had a bad go of it." Her eyes scanned further.

"Siren of Kamino. She is not a Kaminoan, at least not like the one's I've seen." Mal continued, the droid whirling low behind her. "They look like giant walking ear swabs." She added an explanation. Kamino was a water world. The final piece added an intruguing note about a missing scientist associated with Damsy. She now had more puzzle peices, but so far not many were fitting together. Mal's head lifted, eyes staring at the bulkhead as her thoughts ran circles. A Confederacy war hero Elite Military Officer from a water world who has severe reactions to water heading for Sith space. A missing scientist named as her caretaker. What the hell was Damsy up to? Mal's policy of keeping out of others business was in desperate risk of violation.

Still, nothing that she had learned gave Mal reason to believe Damsy was a threat to her. The woman didn't lie when she gave her name, so it wasn't like she was trying to hide who she was. What trouble might be following the semi-incognito officer was unknown. Curiosity licked at Mal like a teasing flame. She stood up and headed back down the hall to the hold. Stopping by the galley, she grabbed two bottles of ale and approached Damsy again, extending one of the bottles. "Need a drink, Damsy? Or should I say Major?"

Mal offered a small smile, her voice soften, slipping into the soothing multifaceted tones of her Nagai heritage. "I didn't know I had a war hero on board." It was a rather innocuous start to her fishing for an explanation for Damsy's unusual travel plans.