Out of the Shadow

[Coren Starchaser]

[SIZE=12pt]It wasn’t that this ship didn’t know where it was, but it was a bit battered by the moment it reverted back to real space. The blue of hyperspace soon focused back into the starpoints, and there they were. The ship, at one point fresh and clean off the production floor of Silk Holdings, was now dirtied, roughed up, and looking a little worse for wear. The trick of it was the pilot, and the people he was flying with capable of disappearing into the unknown for long stretches of time. It was what happened when one had a Star Destroyer at their beck and call. The fact of the matter was that it was time to make a return.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]The Known Galaxy was all manner of messed up, at any point. Sith joining the ranks of the Alliance and no one seeming to have any frakking issue with it. But it wasn’t anything that could be fixed, not the way he was going about it. But there were things that he knew how to do. That was get lost, make connections, understand new civilizations, and find what the galaxy had hidden away.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]It was one of the jobs his ship had been assigned back when he was still serving in the Imperial leaning government of the past. Back before the Alliance, before anything. They had been sent as trailblazers, voyagers, and an expeditionary force, to ensure that nothing was going to be surprising them from a back door. Peacekeeping, it was called.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]But now? It was a different purpose. The galaxy was changing, and the pilot and his team were looking to understand where it had been, and what was out there that could become damaging to anyone they would encounter. A group out of time, the Unknown was more welcoming than fear-inducing for them. It was comforting.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Still, the pilot of the ship looked around the local system as the ship rolled in a lazy loop, allowing for visual scanning as well as the onboard system to log the stars and constellations. Looking down to the screen, the pilot nodded. That was good, at least they were somewhere. Stabilizing the ship, the pilot looked over to the astromech.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]"See what we can learn."[/SIZE]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He wasn’t sure what was going to have changed, but he knew many things had. It was going to be interesting to see what had gone on. The Dawn Treader was hanging back, in the Unknown Regions, at a beachhead they had established, working with a station just beyond the edge of the map. The pilot shook his head. It was an escape plan. He knew what it was, but for someone like him, disappearing could be done very easily. He could go to ground, or he could keep moving.

And this pilot was a runner, a flight risk, but there were reasons. The Sith, for one, and hell, even the Jedi, those damned hypocrits, well, most. The galaxy was a strange place, and sometimes he wasn’t sure there was a place for him in it. He was, after all, a weapon. Someone to try to balance things, if the Sith and their dark side dogma rose up? He’d do what he could to douse that fire. Same with the Jedi, if they started forcing dogma.

Maybe that was why he preferred space. It was fair, it was honest, and the only thing that mattered was your skills and ship. Not who you believed was right. Still, now, the ship was just in a lazy roll, on a decaying access towards the local moon. The pilot was working the controls of the ship to send out pulse communications bursts. Down through the Underground contacts. Who knew if the Alliance was safe.

He knew that [member="Jorus Merrill"] would be.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

Jorus clung to a cylindrical probe, surrounded by a hundred million kilometres of nothing. Fall off the only piece of solid around, and he could drift forever.

He’d fitted microthrusters to his boots and wrists. He could jump to hyperspace with his mind. He'd lived close to half a century as a spacer. Most importantly, he had a ship and crew floating twenty metres away. And yet today, his lizard brain insisted that letting go would be an endless fall. He couldn't account for it. Bad salad, maybe.

Some guys used tensor fields or electromagnets to keep their gear on their belts. Crap like that could futz the instruments by crucial tenths of a percent. Jorus used velcro. He could hear the adhesive patches as a vibrating rasp through his suit - irritating, but not enough to throw him off. Delicately, he applied one tool after another to the old Mandalorian probe. Alec Rekali had seeded this region with them, linked them up as subspace relays, and folded them into the Underground's unreliable but galaxy-wide network. They'd stood the test of time. Even so, the best machines needed maintenance once in awhile.

He connected the buffer to a belt-mounted datapack - another great reason to avoid magnets. Two hours of un-relayed transmissions scrolled across the pack’s display. A low whistle escaped him and he toggled his comm.

“Darr? I'm reading a signal from Coren fething Starchaser. Looks like it bounced from a spot nearby. I'm patching it to you. Sort out a meetup. Make it Torrential - he'll like that place.”

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Ships were one thing that Coren always understood. His own were pieces of himself, more literal than figurative at times. He had been there for the design of the Shortfin and when it came to Tachyon Rising, he was there for every step of the complete rebuild. It wasn’t that he was saying a Force using spacer needed to be there for the production of the ship same as a lightsaber, but the ship was an extension of those who flew them.

There were people, like Jorus Merrill, who could make ships do outrageous feats, and if the humors were true, jump basically a hunk of metal into hyperspace. Coren, well, he could navigate with the best of them. Its why he was trailblazing through the Unknown Regions for the past… however long. Not like he’d just offer up the route, but well, it provided him with a secure feeling, should he need it. What he wasn’t sure of, though, was what he was going to do back here.

It was time to resupply, and someone would pay for the routes, he assumed. But was there more of a reason to come here? He’d been on the galactic stage before. But he wasn’t sure if that was a safe place ever again, or a place he’d like to even be.

Looking at Porter, his astromech, the droid beeped at him and spouted out a message. “Merrill, eh? And Torrential, not familiar, we got coordinates?” The semi-affirmative from Porter was just what Coren expected. “Right, put it in, I’ll get us there.”

Sometimes the job was never done. The ship came about to the heading it needed as Coren pushed the shuttle into the jump, falling into the Force to ensure he didn’t run them through some sun or asteroid belt by the time they arrived in Wild Space.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

Torrential was the definition of ‘off the beaten path.’ Its nearest equivalent for remoteness and danger might be the Kathol Outback itself, or maybe the Stygian Caldera. With the right routes and the right watchers, though, you could get there sans ambush and in decent time.

The Wretched Hive lacked the maneuverability to remain in the comet-infested system for long. En route to a contract on Ancora, though, the mobile mechanic's shop left Jorus at Torrential's lone mountaintop port with a starfighter. Sensors indicated there wasn't another comet due to hit within a thousand miles for at least a week. The only real danger came from tsunamis. Standing on the edge of the landing pad, above a bare slope, Jorus watched a gigantic wave take form on the horizon. The main crest wouldn't come this high, but hurricane-force spray might. If Coren didn't show soon, Jorus would be hunkering down on his starfighter’s cockpit to ride out the horizontal rain.

In the meantime, though, Torrential reminded him a good deal of Ahch-To - a good place to think and wait in peace.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The ship was aligning and the comforting and all too familiar star streaks appeared before the ship leapt into hyperspace. This part of existence was all too familiar and felt like home for the Vanguard. He always was the shock trooper, flying ahead of forces and striking first.

Now his home ship was safe in the Unknown Regions, while he was establishing contacts back here. Hopefully he'd be able to make it back to Kathol and run across the Aing-Tii. But he was going to take this slowly.

The ship was making its way through and by the Force, Coren was directing the path until the required real space entrance was needed to reset his navicomp.

Another few jumps and the Shortfin's computer started going nuts. Right, he had manuevering jets. But Lexi was offering the subspace transit information: comets.

Terrific. But a few more hours of real space travel, and the advanced scout shuttle entered atmosphere.

"Find where Gypsy is at, Porter." The pilot ordered.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

By the time Jorus’ beacon guided [member="Coren Starchaser"] downwell, the tsunami had sloshed around the base of the mountain and turned it to a far smaller island. Storm-spray washed the little port, a few landing pads on the summit. As the shuttle touched down, Jorus cracked the fighter’s cockpit. The spray soaked him instantly.

Careful not to put a foot wrong in the gale, he crossed slippery rock between the landing pads. The shuttle’s lee offered shelter. He clung to the freighter’s landing gear against a gust and banged the hatch with a hydrospanner.

A keening roar penetrated the storm: a microcometary meteor burning up as it slashed by overhead. Harmless, but a reminder - if he needed it - of Torrential's passionless and implacable hazards. He toggled what looked to be an intercom beside the hatch.

“Open up, kark your eyes. I brought lum.”

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The Shortfin was not unlike most of Coren’s ships, vessels that could go just about anywhere, and accomplish a number of tasks. Sure, it wasn’t his Mon Cal vessel, or one of the Sekotan ships, so its ability in and near water was lacking, but it was still a ship, and one designed to touch down on a planet. Coren knew it’d be fine to land at the beacon. And that was just what he did. The water level on this world was weird, changing, it caused a few concerns, but he felt he’d be fine.

So would his ship.

The trick was that Coren hadn’t been around friends that weren’t the crew of the Treader in… a long time. Jorus, he knew, and he knew he could trust him. When the man was knocking at the ship, the VI Lexi contacted Coren.

“Our guest is outside.” She spoke in computerized and quick statements. Coren nodded and tossed Porter a look before heading aft to the main cabin and the boarding ramp. Lowering it, the wind and howling entered the ship.

“Lum? That’s a good way to get into places.”

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

"Yeah, well, I never could get the hang of lockpicks."

He slid a six-pack of lum cans over the edge of the ramp and followed, buffeted by rain. The ramp's hatch sealed behind him. He combed the water from his hair and stubble with his fingers, and wiped his hands on the merely-damp shirt beneath his jacket.

"Been a long dang time, Coren. Welcome to Torrential. Believe it or not, it wasn't named for the rain."

He'd had a different face back then, been older. Now he looked Coren's age or younger. In the intervening years, he and his wife had gone into the deep Unknown Regions and encountered something they hadn't expected. It wasn't entirely positive to have a new lease on life, but what's done was done.

"Welcome back to the 'verse. Got plans?"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

“One of those skills we all need at some point.” Coren may not be the strongest fighter, nor the strongest with the Force, but what he did have was a very particular set of skills. The once agent of an Imperial warlord, turned commander of the Galactic Alliance turned what was he now, vigilante deserter, knew a few things. And getting into and out of places was definitely on that list. He knew there were times where a well placed blaster bolt or lightsaber swing were useful. This, well, it wasn’t one of those times. Sure, Coren was looking the part of some smuggler-gunslinger, but he wasn’t aiming for that right now.

Well, not the gunslinger part.

Everyone changed after a few years, face, expressions, how they were in the Force. Coren looked at Jorus as he brushed off the water. Taking the lum and sitting at the table in the main galley, Coren nodded to another chair and popped the can. “Whats it named for? What has the galaxy been doing in my absence?” He took a sip and considered Jorus’s next statement.

“I’m not sure. My team was in the Unknown for a while, needed to come back here for a few things. See what the galaxy has turned itself into, and where I might best shake things up for a while.” He shrugged. “See who needs the help I can offer.”

Whatever that all meant.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

"Named for the comets." Jorus cracked open a lum and flopped down on a seat. "You get a chance, check out a comet shower on your way out of the system. It's really something else."

He chewed on the other answer for about half a can.

"First Order's been slapping the Alliance around for years. Peace is in the works but that won't last. Sith Empire scared the Dominion out of existence and hooked up with the Galactic Empire to take a swing at the Silver Jedi. It's a downswing for the good guys, no question." He grimaced. "Not that the Alliance or the Silvers really merit the name, but at least they're not actively terrible tyrants, y'know? Me, I've spent the last few years around here, making trails with the Outer Rim Coalition. We don't have a prayer against the First Order, so we're just waiting them out until they collapse."

 

[Coren Starchaser]

“Torrential rain of comets, then?” Coren grinned as he put his feet up on the table and cracked open a can. “I’ll make a note of that. Not traveling anywhere too fast right now. Hell, don’t even know where I’m wanted, or needed.” Sure, he had a few tricks up his sleeve snice he returned from the Unknown Regions, a bit of time with people from Wild Space, one tends to learn a thing or three.

He took a sip of the lum and watched Jorus, just observing him. It was great to be catching up with someone who knew what Coren was after, and what choices he made.

“You’d think after the Alliance got settled, their Jedi could rally the Silvers into a bit more.. aggressive negotiations. It’s the dark side, not really someone you can walk on egg shells around. “So, things have gone down hill for the Light side since I’ve been away?” The pilot smirked and took another swig from the lum.

“I heard a bit about the Coalition. Similar to the Levantines of old, yeah? Just linking some worlds together?”

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

Jorus leaned back in the shock couch and rested the can on his stomach. “Tough stuff to grapple with. There's a few Darksiders that work for the Coalition, and a few I trust and call friends. Best I can do is set an example and get them on board with standards of behavior, and they've been amenable to that. They're playing with fire, but they're not, you know, murderers and all that.

“As for the Silvers, they've had a ton more trouble with that question. Their last or second-last Grandmaster, name escapes me, nice lady - she resigned when her whole Order wanted to take on Darksiders as allies. She'd be one to talk to, if she's still kicking around. Crieff, that was it, Sorel Crieff.

“You could maybe have a chat with Veiere Arenais, the Grandmaster at a Jedi Order run from the Commenor system. They're close-tied to the government, which is solid neutral. Negotiators and all that.

“Truth be told, I know you and the Alliance have had your spats, but they're probably the closest thing to what you're about, far as I recall. Militant, no Darksiders. Not doing too well, stuck in the past, but worth a look.

“Bottom line, there's a reason I Jedi on my own. Institutions always let me down. It's why I never bucked for Grandmaster, apart from being a terrible fit for the job. Burlap allergy."

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Dark siders in the Coalition? Hmm.. Coren had been out in the Unknown regions, he’d seen a lot of weird stuff lately. And well, the Force was used in a bunch of different ways. And the Dark Side’s definition was… tricky. Truth be told, for Coren, it was the damned Sith that were the issue. But the dark side was a symptom of that issue, and the way the citizens of the galaxy handled things, well, it was always going to be an issue. Self styled warlords and the like.

“See, for them, they’re the Jedi, shouldn’t they be checking their mission statement before making deals? I don’t blame the leader for disappearing. I mean with the Coalition its different, I’m sure?” Did Coren just admit that all dark siders weren’t bad people?

Well, his war was always against the Sith. Looking up from his lum though, Coren quirked up an eyebrow. “How many Jedi Orders are out there now?” He almost laughed but for serious.

“The Alliance just… didn’t trust my instinct. They took someone in who could easily have been, or is still, who knows where that situation went, a sleeper agent…” He waved his hand off to the side and looked at Jorus again. “What is it you’re doing?”

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

"Oh, Sionoma? Yeah, I got the skinny on that from my sister's files. Far as I can tell, the fether's clean, just hangs out on Sulon doing his thing and lends a hand sometimes. He's got no access, puts up no red flags, makes enough Light Side Force trinkets that he's probably mostly legit. Glad he's not my problem." He burped gently and procured another can.

"As for the Coalition, oh yeah, totally different from the Silver mess. We're not running around making deals with Darksider groups and negotiating with the First Order and all that dren. I can think of, mm, call it four or five Darksiders that work for the Coalition, none of'em raving megalomaniacs or whatever. Law and order types, or as close as you get out here.

"Jedi...well, going on a decade now there's been a handful, they just keep shifting, and my answer last year woulda been different from where things stand now. Far as I understand it, right now there's the Alliance's New Jedi Order, there's Arenais' Jedi Order at Commenor, there's the Silvers, and as usual there's a bunch of folks that don't ascribe to any of the above."

 

[Coren Starchaser]

See? This was why Coren sometimes hated the people in this galaxy. Sure, he could go and be a farmer, or someone who just sat on some Levantine Sanctum world and dove, looking for lost artifacts, but that really wasn’t him. He needed to be in space, and because he was someone who could do a few tricks with the Force, he felt he had his own say on how to run the galaxy. And well, people, at one point, listened.

“Yeah, that’s the fether’s name, looked just like the Dark Lord? Didn’t think people would blame me for trying to murder the man when he tried to walk through my door.” He shrugged and took a second to finish the can. “So, not giving you any dings? Maybe he’s not so bad. Still ain’t goin’ trust him.”

“They seem to each have their own take but call homage to the same throne. Probably why I did fall in with the Wardens.” Yeah, he knew one shouldn’t chat about them. But this was Jorus. “What’s the Coalition running around doing? Any organizations for Forcers? Or is it safe to just… wander?”

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

"False dichotomy." Was he on his third can? Fourth? Jorus shrugged and slugged it back. "Both are true. Do your own thing, there's no made-up Jedi knockoff uniting everyone for a couple years of shiny new identity. What's the phrase? Flavor of the week? Anyways, there's eighteen different kinds of Forcers kicking around, and most of'em have lives, jobs - the Force is just a part of their lives, however they chose to do their thing. People first, Forcers second, most of'em. Sanya, that Janick lady, Dax, Nate, Joza - you'll love Joza. All just random folks."

He suppressed a burp.

"Now, that said, the Coalition hired on some people, some Forcers, some not, to kind of keep things in line. Judges, we're called. Sedaire was one until he poofed, if you remember him. Flat org structure, not much hierarchy, not much for orders. There's a station called the Foundation, anchored off Zonju Five just now, where we've got a rest stop and folks to send us missions, things that need doing. Maybe a bounty hunter goes off the rails, a pirate crew gets uppity, some random alien conqueror pops up on a back road - you get the idea. It's very much your cuppa tea. You interested?"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Probably something that he should have looked into when he was working with the GA’s military to bring some Jedi in, find the one who could connect the flower-children and the lightsaber swingers. Coren, as was a Starchaser tradition, was always much more a sentinel, knowing there were other ways to handle an issue than overt use of the Force or a lot of lightsaber violence. Sure, it came down to thieving and sabotage, but when your enemy controlled the galaxy? Kind of were without choices.

“See? Those are the ones that should be listened to, working joes with the Force. The rest, they get on their high holy horse and it makes things messy, too messy.” Well, in his opinion. Another pop and another lum started.

“Keeping things in line, huh? Like sheriffs of planetary fiction, or more… involved Wardens?” Coren mused as he shrugged, dismissing it as a more rhetorical statement than anything. The bit that Jorus was introducing right now sounded just what Coren could help support. And something the Wilds needed, he surmised. “Definitely interested, is there a health care plan?” He laughed and took a swig from his drink.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]