Private R.I.P and Tears

[Loske Treicolt]

Hyperspace - En Route to Anaxes // Flagship Radiance // Hangar
Immediately following the events of Abaddon’s Gate: Chaos Rising Pt 1.
Maynard Treicolt
Warpaint ​

Too many emotions. Too much. It was too much. Loske’s purpose was for war, not feeling -- and with all the conflicting, overwhelming sentiments battling in her brain -- Grief. Relief. Fury. Failure. Shock. -- she was overrun with a nauseous sensation. As soon as she landed she flung out of the cockpit, stumbled to the nearest receptacle and deposited her anguish out in bile and remnants of yesterday’s breakfast.

Aids were flooding into the hangar, and someone was serendipitously observant enough to hand her a water container, which she eagerly downed.

Meanwhile, a mechanical arm reached over to pluck Frank from his socket and to the ground amidst the other surviving astromechs, giving them the opportunity to interface and exchange data and topographical reports. Many had charred marks on their domes, others had punctures that looked like they were from teeth. Frank just had a bunch of guts and dirt on him. Sort of like his mistress -- from the hours before, when the zombie outbreak had just started on Brentaal IV. Before the sky had opened up and hell had rained down from the sky.

Other pilots were emerging from their cockpits now, scaling down their ladders and joining the collection of civilians and soldiers on the hangar floor as people were directed to different areas of the ship. They’d all had to leave Brentaal IV behind. A retreat.

Light eyes surveyed the crowds, trying to feel a glimmer of hope that she’d see some of her friends. Cedric had been ushered off to the med bay, Ryv was...gone. Incinerated, perhaps. Maynard?

“Captain!” Someone waved, drawing her focus to the area the Skywalker Class X-Wings had parked. She picked up her pace and jogged over to them. Tear-stained faces greeted her, and she immediately looped her arms around the shoulders of her comrade. Loske could feel the violent shuddering of the pilot in her grasp. Taller than Saber Three, the blonde rested her cheek against the top of the other girl’s head and let her cry quietly for a few seconds. She was repeating how she had hit the creature, and didn’t know why Seven had combusted. He was lost. Loske didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how the girl felt, and she couldn’t reassure her whether or not the aim had been true or not. Loske just gave her a squeeze.

Usually after an aerial engagement, pilots felt a high. It was like a medley of oxycontin, endorphin and adrenaline release that made them feel like they could take on the world. Survival of the fittest. That feeling couldn’t be further from the truth right now. A few other pilots milled around, and Loske passed her teary-eyed companion into the open arms of another pilot, and like a receiving line, they all went through a series of relieved hugs that most of them had made it back to the command ship.

In an attempt to brighten their spirits, the kiffar started doling out compliments. “Good shooting out there, nine.” “Tight turns, nice work.” This brought on back and forth ‘Thanks for having my back’s and ‘Couldn’t have done it without you’ ‘How about our shield systems, hey?’. Once the conversation started to be about their vehicles, there was a bit more normalcy to the interactions -- though the entire ship hangar felt dire still.

“Hey, do we know what happened to Wing Leader? I saw his flare..” Saber Four asked, breaking the easy conversation with the forlorn question.

Loske bit her lip, not having an answer, and took a step back to try and survey the hangar once again for the corvette that had the remaining evacuees from Site A. That would have been May’s only hope, and each second that a face that wasn’t his came down I.S.V. Ashaton’s ramp, dread filled her belly and throat.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

The highest of highs, the near entirety of Saber bringing down several successful strikes unto the host from the nether. Only to bellow out to the lowest of lows. His trusted vessel shattered, his BB unit returned only in shambles -- its droid brain and memory preserved well enough but its very casing mangled from the impact. Maynard wasn't in too many shades better condition. He was able, shambling himself out of the Corvette without any issues however beneath the skin bruised and bloodied from the combat nearly every fiber of his being ached from the crash. Even still his vision was blurry, hazed over from the sheer rattling his cranium took from his X-Wing bolting straight into the earth.

The onboard medical personnel had barely the time to spare to appraised Maynard's state when scores worth of civilians and infantry needed far more urgent injuries tended to. Sparing a meager dose of bacta, Treicolt had the pain subsided enough to speak and think clearly at the very least. Being one of the last off, letting the most grievously injured in need of medical attention far ahead of him he leaned against the cold, sterile duraplast paneling of a corridor hall leading toward the exit ramp of the vessel.

He didn't know if he had the stuff for the interaction awaiting him. The Sabers likely figured he was dead and gone. Left to the wolves on Brentaal it would be a tough thing to live with -- Maynard saw himself a few of his squadron mates go down. It wasn't anything he took likely but that was one of many results that could take place when seating your life in the hands of the millions of different variables that came with starfighter combat. Even still, he made it out at no small cost.

Ryv , who might've been his best friend was left to a dark and nebulous fate on Brentaal IV. He couldn't do anything to save him, he knew damn well the Kiffar would've stopped at nothing to pull him out of a ditch no deeper and yet Maynard couldn't help but sit and wait to be bailed out from his own shortcoming. It ate at him to think about, retracing his steps to plot out any cource where he might've stayed in the air, his squadron and his friends returning home in tact with a victory to revel in all the same. He couldn't shoulder the blame on himself...these were all lessons, hard truths.

Peeling into view from the corvette Maynard's weary, bruised, beaten and disheveled face showed among the last of the crowd of refugees to exit the vessel. Though his pride and the weight of defeat defeat among everything else wanted to weigh him down into pitiful sorrow the sight of his Squadron mates drew an endearing grin to his lips, threatening to aggravate the crescent and jagged bloodied marks left by glass and shrapnel that dug into his flesh.

"Maynard!" Saber Five yelled out in reassured happiness, rushing forth to wrap the Jedi into her embrace. Drawing a bated breath and faint laugh from Treicolt, shuddered if only by the jolt of pain that shot through his body from the woman's gesture.

"Gah - hey...glad to see ya'll made it..." Maynard said in an uncharacteristically somber tone, returning the hug for a brief moment before another Jedi pilot was there to greet him with a grasp of his hand before he wrapped his other arm over his shoulder.

"We were worried about you, wasn't sure you were gonna walk out of that crash, didn't look too good." The Saber pilot said, offering a welcoming grin.

"Nah...Dak n' them picked me up, wasn't pretty...ya'll were some real aces out there." Maynard said, offering more words of reassurance and encouragement even as he struggled to mouth out the words without collapsing from the crushing sensory embrace that still lingered from the crash. Soon enough the environment about the group delved back into their idle, more light hearted chatter in the face of the gruesome defeat the Imperium was handed not hours prior. Moving past them he approached Loske with weary thuds of his boots against the durasteel clatter beneath. He was hardly any Squadron Leader without her, they might've very well been a two pronged head at the group and he was even sure of himself that she was a good deal better behind the controls than him. Even if he would never say that aloud.

"Hey Blue..." He said, offering a smile that was snuffed not long after the sheer dread of the battle seemed to weight down on him.

"You...you good to talk, just between us..." Maynard asked, outside of Ryv she might've been the only person he could confide in with any candidness that didn't carry the cold demeanor of a Jedi Master aboard Peace. They'd barely had any interaction that wasn't over the comms between their starfighters but even still that was unique bond in itself.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Someone said his name, and Loske whipped around, exhaling heavily. A tidal wave of relief ripped her from the shores of anxiety and caught her up in the current, drawing her back out to the worrying waters.

Good to see you, Saber One. Frank greeted, rolling over to the arrival of Flight Leader. He didn’t think he would make it, given the distance he’d had to cover from the crash site to Evac A. I’m sure you have stories for the squadron.

“Ah, May!” She was less cavalier than his salutations, and followed Saber Five’s approach, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a thankful embrace. “Thank something..” Ashla? The Force? Goodness? “You’re alive.” Maynard Treicolt still standing didn’t remedy the fact that Cedric was on ice and Ryv had been obliterated, but it calmed a fraction of the devastation. She manifested this little ounce of satisfaction in a squeeze before pulling back, and nodding at his sheepish invitation.

Where’s your… Frank started, but then realized Maynard’s astromech wasn’t as fortunate as the pilot. He let out a low whistle that imitated a droid’s representation of a whimper.

Talk? Made sense. Loske, Ryv and Maynard had been travelling as a pack lately, since finding those starfighters, and for one of them to become nothing but ash wasn’t going to be something they’d be able to brush off with a flick of the wrist.

She stepped away and nodded somberly. He looked terrible. She told him: “You look awful.” Though, she wasn’t much better. Instead of dried blood of her own though, she had some residue from the first day of the Brentaal IV evacuations; mostly mixes of mud, some alien liquid stuff, and oil from her first gross starfighter. And, like everyone else that had been a part of The Imperium’s first wave of defense, she was tired. The kind of exhaustion where her eyes felt like they’d been sandpapered, and her throat was dry.

Soldiers who’d been part of the discovery since Tepasi were given cots. Back when they’d thought it was just Blackwing. Hah! Just Black Wing. Some didn’t make it though, and their bodies were strewn and snoring over random crates or curled up in pure exhaustion. They were unconscious - not sleeping. The kind of nap you took when your body forced you to shut down and recalibrate. They wouldn’t wake up well rested, unless they made the transition from unconsciousness to actual sleep.

Instead of asking the obvious so what do you want to talk about, Loske started out with thanks. “Glad you and the Sabers showed up.” She rubbed at her eyelashes absently while they drew away from the cluster of people in the hangars. The nice thing about overcrowded areas was the ease to get lost. Nobody cared what less than four people at a time did. Crowds could be the most intimate collection. Frank rolled along as well, not taking the hint. “And the Anaxes fleet, honestly. I thought we were sitting ducks for a while.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"You look awful" might have been the most candid statement shared between them so far. He certainly felt he part all the same but even as his eyes burned with stinging sweat and dried blood, rest might've been the last thing he wanted now. Too much rattled in his mind even if he'd tried a hand at laying down his clouded, unfocused gaze might be staring into nothingness for hours. He needed someone to talk to, to confide in and he was half confident she could probably use the same.

It didn't matter one way or the other that Frank cared to accompany the pair, Astromechs were as noticeable as you ever cared them to be. At very least, Maynard's droid Buddy knew when it was best to zip it, granted, Frank might not be the same way. All the same, none of that mattered right now. Finding themselves in a corner of the hangar bay away from the crowded rabble of wounded and hangar personnel.

"Yeah I mean...heard the call for help and...shit I wasn't sure me, rest of the Squad would be ready for some heavy stuff like this but...here we are. We lost a couple... Ryv is...I don't know what happened to Ryv I got...I got a gut feeling he's alright but still ah- we lost..." Maynard says, he took his own words heavily. He was quick to rip himself apart over failure. If it never showed before, it certainly did now.

"I can't ever seem to save anyone Loske...that's all I ever want to do...is help, save people and every time I try anything I land on my ass and they end up dead, gone...every damn time...I-" Maynard says pursing his lips against one another as he leaned his back against the wall, slowly sliding himself down to sit against the cold durasteel panels beneath.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this, Blue...every damn time I try to do anything of worth, people I care about...I get em killed, I'm takin' one step forward two steps back..." The pilot said, openly candid to her.

"I couldn't even make it out without trashing my own ship...I'm fuckin' useless...I'm not sure I should be leader of anyone..." Maynard said. He had a great deal of anger, emotional strife buried within him but it was never anyone other than himself he seemed to lash out on.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Lit up, burnt out
​

Her expression was soft while he collected his thoughts, explaining the rationale to respond to the call of duty. Like him, she wasn't sure if Ryv being gone felt wrong because of denial or if there was just a level of impossibility that he could just die like that. Honestly, she hadn't spent nearly enough time trying to wrap her head around it. No time at all, in fact. After this conversation she'd probably go throw up again and have a good cry while trying to sort through everything that had happened. Release that Matteo pragmatism.

She only nodded slowly at Maynard's interpretation of Ryv's disappearance, rubbing the back of her neck and looking at the ground or anything other than the bloody mess of Saber One when he reached the conclusion of their loss. It wasn't something she was used to either.

Rapidly, the sentiment devolved even further. Like he'd been itching at a thread the entire ride back to ISV Radiance and now it was unravelling the entire ball of yarn. Her expression tightened and she drew her arms close, folding them over her chest and resting her elbow against one of her hands, to put her palm over her mouth and not betray any expression while he poured his radical candor out. She exhaled heavily behind those fingers, but stayed silent. Her role was to listen. This was like the Kaili and Micah thing again. There was way too much pain in the galaxy.

It sounded like Maynard was recounting more than one time he'd risen to help someone, and she wanted to trace back to those stories more than anything, but it felt inappropriate. Maybe another time. They end up dead. Definitely another time.

Saber One, you're an excellent pilot. Your flight scores are comparative to the Rogues of lor-- Loske put a hand over the triangular shape of Frank's dome, which was kind of like his face, and frantically gestured to shush him. He brrrr'd angrily. Was this a human time? Seemed to be a human time. Loske confirmed it was a human time with a sharp, distressed hiss: "Frank!" He rolled away from her touch, giving an extra wide turn to evidence some physical gesture of sass, and whirred away. He'd catch up with them later, when they were all more amiable. Besides, he had reports to download and synthesize.

Her expression looked apologetic, and she winced at her droid's inability to register delicate situations. This was not the first time he'd crassly interrupted something perceivably intimate.

This was a lot to digest on an empty stomach and no sleep. She was suddenly all too aware of the burden here, and the responsibility of navigating through these emotions together. It felt weird to stay standing when he'd physically dropped with his sentiment, so she plunked down next to him, keeping her legs extended and folding her hands on her lap, looking forward with a frown and a hunch.

Time to sort through these statements: Getting people killed - that was Saber Squadron. There was nothing he could have done about Ryv. Crashing his own ship - technically, a giant demi-god from hell had done that. Not the leader of anyone - not always a skill based requirement.

Did he want her to make him feel better? Or just listen?

She elected that he wanted to talk through it. So, she started unpacking. Unqualified though she was. She had no certifications other than his trust.

"We lost this time." She agreed, the words heavy on her tongue, though she stressed the temporary implications of this. "We lost..really badly. It was kind of like walking into a trap, that none of us could even...fathom. I mean," she gestured now while she spoke "..those monsters, have you ever seen anything like that? From the sky? From a portal!? How were we supposed to win when we were so small in numbers. There's no way. All we could do was hope to get people out of there -- and we kinda did that. As much as we could. You said yourself, The Sabers could only hope to buy time. And you did that.

The Sabers knew what they were getting into. Every pilot knows what they're doing when they climb into that cockpit. That's why so many of them are total D-bags. We're all flying around on borrowed time. Live tonight, die tomorrow sort of thing. Anything that happens in the sky isn't your fault. You didn't make any orders that put anyone in more jeopardy than they were prepared for." She believed that, and the conviction of that reassurance was sound in her tone. "I don't know about your other times." Loske admitted, leaning back into the wall and resting her head against it, looking up and closing her eyes. Fatigue waved at her, and she ignored it's attempts to welcome her to it's unconscious void. "Sometimes things are our fault, and sometimes they're not. It's hard to decipher which is which, and then what to do with that information."

That wasn't very helpful. But it was kind of cathartic to try and talk her friend off the ledge while applying the same lessons to herself. It would be nice if she could just...rally the memories of her mother, or inflict a sense of reason from the former Grandmaster to just take over her tongue and do the talking for her in times like these.

His devolving into the starfighter crash was tricky to speak to, so she mostly ignored it and latched onto the more pointed part of his admittance. Rotating her head to look at him, she drew her knees upward and wrapped her arms around them tightly, resting her chin on her forearms.

"Do you want to keep doing this? To keep trying to help?

What do you want to do, right now?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

He sat almost slumped against the wall, his navy blue flight suit stained with splatters and trails of his own lifeblood on the fabrics as he stared out toward the flowing seas of refugees and wounded funnel from the starship. The organized madness of the relief was a spectacle all its own - serving well enough as a visual sensory intake to subside the unnerving pain he felt in his bones and muscles even if they were still unidentifable masses behind the clouded view of his eyes still deep in recovery from the absolute rattling his brain took on the crash.

Eventually he peered back toward Loske. He'd been through this before, a brain rattling crash that left him nigh blinded for the next few days afterward. It was horrifying the first time, now he'd calcified his alarm. Something about it all now irked him when he looked back to her, chin rested on her arms, struggling to help Maynard cope with his internal struggling. The fact he couldn't clearly visibly look into her eyes seemed to bite at him. If Loske was anything to Maynard aside from perhaps one of his few confidants and friends, she was certainly a sight for sore eyes in a weary existence that had few such sights to offer. An impoverish upbringing among scrappers and farmers on Concord Dawn made sure of that.

"I do- I don't wanna leave people out there like that again, I don't. But shit...if I keep failing...I won't be doin' anyone any good, Loske." He says, invoking her name, a rarity when he usually defaulted to her callsign. With his gaze mis-aligned from hers if only noticeably he spoke up once more.

"It's just- I-...I don't know...you're right about it all though. But hell, you're damn well smarter than I am...I spent too much of my life just...wasting it away. I was a damn smuggler for years after-..." He cuts himself off, letting out a deep breath before he seems to search for the right words.

"I was told I wouldn't leave Concord alive...that I'd amount to nothing. I always tried to shake that ya know? Shed off all that negative shit but...every time I try and do something...something good, substance and all that...I just fuck it up in the end...every damn time. The SIlvers, back when I was-...well my first run at being a Jedi, most of the masters who got a good look at me figured I wasn't worth it,. Had too little 'force potency', lacked the patience and had all the red flags they'd see in a Sith or something like that. First real teacher I get...he's gone. Anytime I find someone worth a damn...I lose em, that's what I'm afraid of. With the Sabers, Ryv...you. " He says, seeming to impart a certain emphasis on Loske before his gaze shifts away from her direction, shaking his head to himself as he peers down toward the durasteel flooring beneath with empty eyes. He almost seemed to immediately regret being so candid. As he'd stated not moments prior, building attachments only bit him in the end and that fear compounded on many other self doubts seemed to govern him. He contemplated if the path of the Jedi was even the one he should walk again. He levied his try once before and he came out the other hand with his connection to the force nearly cut right in two -- barely maintaining a compounding tether as it was.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske felt lightheaded, and not just from hunger and fatigue. Ryv was dead. Cedric was almost dead. Maynard’s spirit was dead. They’d not stop fighting this god from hell, which meant lots more were going to die. Probably her. The part of her that could feel things was close to done, shut off. Her heart was a numbness behind her ribs and when -- if -- it came back, she couldn’t guess who or what she would be.

She wasn’t smarter, she just talked a lot. Getting through how other people felt came easier than sorting through her own personal business. Bleeding heart Matson -- the alternative callsign her brother had suggested to Friendly Blue.

“A smuggler?” The blonde intoned, letting the surprised words slip through. It was in that moment she realized how very little she knew about her wingmate. Shame. And after what? Seemed like he was holding onto a pretty amassed death toll. Ugghh, the itch to ask was getting harder to ignore. “I’ll ask you about that later.” The girl admitted, with a passive wave. “That’s not a waste though. Your memories give you way more perspective that’s all you, and makes you who you are.” Her tone was as supportive as it was jealous. “That’s fortunate, to have background like that, and to remember it." She didn’t mean to turn it into a comparison of some people have it worse, but more so an appreciation of where they were in the timeline.

“Can I be honest? I’m gonna be honest. I think you want me to be honest here” She uncurled her legs, and shifted to rest on one hip with a shoulder against the wall to face the side of Maynard Treicolt 's face instead of the hallway, where people were passing by. “There are a lot of I’s in what you just said. Which, in itself is fine,” she held up her palms to diffuse any reaction, patting the air downward before continuing: “But penance after every failure isn’t going to help you stop failing.

To err is human, and it’s not fatal. What could start to be fatal, is placing all fault on yourself. That’s isolating. And, in a way, forfeits the trust and hope influence you have on the people around you.” She paused, tapping her lip. “No, forfeit isn’t the right word.” She looked away for a minute, as if she’d find the term she was looking for somewhere between their feet. “Ah - blinds.” Satisfied with that descriptor, she expanded on the sentiment: ”It could blind you from allowing trust or hope to live in your actions, which influences people you meet and interact with, and how you see yourself.”

She let that sit in the air for a moment, reflecting on whether or not it was true. Both their friends who had fallen on Brentaal IV had a zest for truth, for themselves being able to complete a task. It inspired others around them -- whether or not their inspiration came from within, they had a level of confidence in their sacrifice.

A roguish grin spread across her lips at his final statement. Attachment was something she was familiar with -- she was less precious about it than her friends and clandestine partner. Relationships were everything to her. But to everyone else...the fear of being attached was all too real. All Jedi did. It’d been bred into them. Attachment could mean loss, and loss could make you angry, sad, hateful, full of the lust for vengeance. To the darkside someone goes. “Don’t worry about me.” She offered with a lighthearted shrug and wink. “I was literally made for this.

“Also, you didn’t answer my question. You said what you don’t want. That’s pretty clear. What do you want? You’ve got to see that before you can actualize it.”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Maynard seemed to level himself out in his feelings, his unfocused gaze staring emptily at some section of the floor as she spoke. Though he didn't levy any visible response toward her he listened close and intently to everything she said. There weren't too many around anymore who could act as a vessel of hard truths to get through to Maynard. Loske might've been one of four able to deliver it. Even if they didn't know each other as well as they should given they were the two pronged head of Saber Squadron, that sort of bond had its staying power.

"Nah - I know I...my master back in the day he always told me that was somethin' I needed to fix about myself, shoulderin' all the blame n' shit from everything. Probably why I left the Jedi to begin with after -...after I lost him." Maynard admits solemnly before his gaze peers back up to match hers...the best he can at least - its still a bit off.

"What I want? Shit- I don't really...lust for anything ya know? Power n' the force or anything like that...I don't know, doesn't shit to me. I just want to leave a legacy...want people to think back to me like 'yeah, Maynard? He was a solid dude.' , Shit like that..." Maynard admits to her with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Just...just wanna help people out, be happy n' all that...just can't seem to do shit about it..." He remarks earnestly.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She felt like she was doing all the talking. Was that what he wanted? She rested her dizzy head on the wall beside her, trying to trace his reaction. Loske was far from a Lorridian, and an empath, so her attempts at a subtle assessment were oft' lost.

Ah. Losing a Master. Here she was wallowing in the sorrow of maybe losing her Master, without it actually being confirmed. Maynard Treicolt had already gone through that. "I'm sorry." She murmured, her voice low and she tucked a loose golden strand behind an ear, pausing at the ends of her hair to discover a wad of mud. She crunched it between her fingers, rubbing it away until it turned small enough to sift away to the ground below. Too often, that seemed disingenuous. People died all the time -- it was the memories that were fun to ruminate on.

"Sounds like he knew you pretty well, and cared." She offered. "It's hard to get out of your own way. And it's probably not going to happen today, let alone right now." Loske concluded, bluntly. "You have time.

You bought yourself some when You survived that disaster down there, you kinda owe it now to try, hey?"

"And you don't have to worry about doing it alone." She reached over and squeezed his upper arm with a reassuring grip, before retracting and shifting her weight so her thigh didn't go numb. "I'll be in the skies with you every time to remind you, and if this kind of dialogue is helpful..I'm here for you." If Ryv were here, he'd volunteer to be right there beside them. But he wasn't. Even if Maynard's gut suggested Ryv wasn't all dead, for all intents and purposes he was perished. If other Saber folks were around, she was sure they'd make a similar promise.

He finally answered about his wants, and she shrugged a small, tired laugh out, shaking her head. "You don't have to lust after anything, just a kinda resolve. Keep you focused. Legacy for being a solid person is achievable -- I can testify on your behalf that you're well on your way."

There was a pause in the conversation, and she traced an outline of something on the ground in front of her. Probably the silhouette of an X-wing. That was a pretty distinct shape.

"I want to be reliable." She answered the unasked question, balancing out the query of what he wanted right now. "To anyone that needs it, strangers, friends, whatever." Loske gave a slow nod and closed her eyes, feeling the pull of fatigue at the corner of her eyelids again. She only smiled warmly, drifting into the projection of legacy and want. Before going too far down that path, and giving into the seductive coos of exhaustion, she snapped her eyes open to meet Maynard's disarmingly bleary gaze once more. "But right now, I want to be helpful. Is this helping?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"Nah I appreciate it Loske, I do. You're reliable as hell ya know, not many people have really listened to anything I have to say...Wyatt- I mean...I guess he took me under his wing when I first came back, crawled out to Peace but shit he's too damn busy doin' whatever the hell he's up to..." Maynard sounds out with a shade of solemness dipped in his tone, adjusting how he sat if only to inch himself a bit closer in her direction. More so as a means to clear her up in his blurried and concussed vision before he spoke up once again.

"It is helping...I been told I beat myself up too much. I'm about damn well the only thing I get really hateful toward if I'm honest...I don't have any beef with anyone else I just...well shit you already know...just wanna be happy, help folks out. That's all it is. I don't care- shit I know I won't be a master the likes of Romi Jade or Wyatt Morga but damn that doesn't mean I can't do some kinda good...or try." Maynard remarks with a shrug to himself.

"I appreciate you listenin' to all my shit though...last- awhile, away from the Jedi I haven't been able to keep anyone's ear for damn near nothin'. That's always how it goes in that kinda life. It's good to have you stick around, Loske." Maynard says, offering her a rare smile which seems to quickly melt away.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The blonde didn't conceal how pleased she was to hear she was indeed as reliable as she sought to be. Her grin made her ears rise.

"You versus you can be helpful," Loske agreed to an underlying sentiment, and crossed her ankles. "To an extent."

She didn't really flinch when he adjusted, she'd been rearranging her position this whole time. Truth was, duracrete was never comfortable; no matter how you angled. And their flight suits weren't particularly well padded. "I think your motives are shared across anyone who's touting the Jedi title. Before any master who's name you just listed got to name-recognition level, they started out kinda like this." She pointed between them for two wags "Or, probably something similar. Some level of self awareness.

Also, I think Master Morga is a cheating example. Doesn't really count. He's like.." she dropped her voice, as if letting Maynard Treicolt in on a secret "One-hundred-and-fifty years old." At the end, her smile was evergreen, if not a bit tired. She brought a hand up to rest her cheek on. Kind of seemed like they were coming around now. She still felt like she was going to go vomit and cry after this.

Still, this seemed as good an opportunity as ever to try and get to know her wingmate a bit better; given how open he'd been up to this point. And latch on to the glimmer of positivity that had evidenced a string of sentences ago. "What was your master like? What was his name?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"He's lookin' pretty damn good for a hundred and fifty." Maynard remarks in all but a laugh to himself before he peers back to her with his cloudied eyes. When she asked of his master his expression seemed to level out immediately, his blank stare settling into contemplation for a moment. Nodding once as if only in affirmation to himself before he let the silence linger a moment longer, eventually speaking up once more.

"Master Tokrun, he was a Kel'dor...he was...man, he was the guy you know? Like- I ain't ever met someone like that, who was able to put up with my shit and teach me. He took me outta Concord- I'll never forget that. Life there...it wasn't much good, I'll be honest. Never had good experiences there but shit he took me from that, to be a Jedi. Taught me about the force- how to kill my ego and accept it as an ally to call on. It was always tough for me to understand, that kinda shit...every time I tried to call on it, I failed. But he was always there to pick me back up, he was always patient with me even when I threw my fits n that...he understood how to teach me, no one else did." Maynard remarks candidly, seemingly pouring himself out to her, shedding any layers of faux confidence and bravado in favor of the truth as it was.

It wasn't that he was never honest but that he was always reserved with his inner person. Within the Jedi Order he felt...off. He was far too old to be a Padawan and all the same he was far too inept in the teachings of the Jedi to ever be considered a knight. He was close then, under the guidance of his late Kel'dor master.

"When he died and all the same I lost...pretty much everything I just- I left it all behind. I knew I wouldn't amount to nothin' in the Order or whatever- so I just starting flying. Came on all sorts of jobs but yeah, smuggling was about the damn near bulk of it. Honest work? Hardly but hell, had to make a livin' you know? I'm glad I'm back in the Order, I'm just not sure I'll do it all too much good...I bet you know I never even get to knight hood if I'm honest." He admitted.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"You had an ego?" Disbelief prompted her to interrupt the story with an exhale and a doubtful smile. Her chin tilted forward in her palm and she raised her eyebrows as if accusing him of lying based on the present self loathing happening.

A Kel'Dor was his Mater. She'd only met one Kel'Dor: Master Karr, and he was incredibly wise and calm. In her mind's eye she drew parallels to the man she knew to make the story of Maynard Treicolt 's more real for her to grasp.

"And threw tantrums? Who was this Maynard of yore?" A faux gasp accompanied the pearl-clutching statement. "How old were you?"

The more he spoke, the more Loske listened. Every syllable revealed dug deeper and deeper into his self doubt and she was afraid to discover how far down it went. It seemed her sage advice wasn't going anywhere this evening. Uncertainty in his performance drenched his words, and everything in his past he seemed ashamed of or devastated by.

She dropped her arms again, looping them around her knees. "May, this is a lot of self loathing and you're going to break my heart if this is all you talk about tonight. I think Master Tokrun would be proud of you. You keep trying. Maybe you left, but you came back to work on what he saw in you.

You've done so much to get here. Resurrected a squadron even -- do you want a pep talk? I can give a good pep talk.

I might not be the best person to talk about with transitions to learner to knight to master. To me, they're just titles. They don't define you, your goals, and everything that you bring to the table. Hierarchical stuff is just," she gestured vaguely with a her hand, as if brushing dust out of the space between them. Then she clicked her teeth shut. "Sorry, this isn't about me.

What is a Knight to you? Why are you selling yourself short there?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"I mean shit- I was a dumb kid. All I ever knew was well...home and...home wasn't all that great. I tried to call on the force, nothing would happen but I was told I had potential, I didn't get it. I figured if I had potential all that shit would come easy to me so when it didn't...I got pissed." Maynard stated flatly to Loske with a shrug.

"Ah- I ain't too worried about the title really - I mean I'm- I'm too damn old to be a 'padawan' thats for sure but, don't really care if I'm called that. A knight though...has their shit together. Like when a knight goes to help someone out, they get the damn job done. Unlike me..." Treicolt offered, his self-doubt seemed far more akin to second nature than it did anything he sought to harp on intentionally. When he was candid- it just came out like something akin to a laugh, a smile. It was just apart of how he spoke about himself.

"I don't know, Loske. I'm sorry I'm- I didn't wanna sound this way around you if I'm honest." Maynard admitted, his blurry gaze lifting from the floor to where it finally matched her gaze for the first time during his conversation.

"I'm- Fuck I'm supposed to be a leader aren't I? No way a leader should be sayin' all this...'least not any leader I've known." Maynard admitted.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske smirked at the admittance of getting upset when things didn't work out as expected, and nodded along to manifest her understanding. It wasn't unfamiliar to her behaviour. As as many virtues as she had inherited from both her paternal and maternal donor -- patience was not one either of them had in spades. Thus, leaving their offsprint of sorts sorely shorthanded at accepting delays or less than perfect the first time around. Though, in her training she'd pattern matched herself to failing the first time, analyzing, and remedying the second bout. "That's fair," she chuckled "I get it. It must have been pretty disorienting when you had your first brush with The Force, hm? Do you remember it?"

Impatience extended beyond her own self analysis however, and was starting to bleed into this conversation. In her mind's eye, she'd been asking him questions but he was selective with his responses; too deep in the mire of his own self-dubbed worthlessness. Her lips drew into a thin, bemused line as he explained his perception of a knight. To be fair, age was relative to the would-be clone. Pretty much everyone was older than her in the Jedi game, given the whole lab experiment thing. "Sounds like you need more negotiable definitions of done." She admitted. "The scope of where you are, and whoever you're comparing yourself to is flexible in definition." She rotated on her hip again, shifting her feet now to face the wall rather than her head. Pins and needles were starting to dance in her thigh. "Example...Saber was deployed to help protect the evac. That job was done. Your job was done. You did that. There was a bump in the road, but you completed the mission. Didn't get in anyones way, etcetera. You're focusing on the negatives, here. That's suffocating your vision. It's good to be aware of where you can improve, but it can't be everything you focus on; that's detrimental to you -- and by extension, yeah, to me and the rest of the team.

You talking to me like this has only made me more aware of who I'm flying with. We've got to have that level of trust, Outrider." The use of his callsign in this context was intentional to help paint the context of their aerial journey. "Every time we wheels up into the stars, our lives are in our teammate's hands."

"Leaders have closed doors too, you know." She offered a final warm smile to Maynard Treicolt 's comparison of leadership monologues. Presentation was oft' something that was too fretted about. The grooming of what the public say, versus advisors. "Don't be so quick to condemn vulnerability."

Speaking of being blinded...there was something off about his eyes. She squinted for a moment, before leaning in interrogatively and rocking back. "Do you have a concussion?"

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"First brush with the force? I don't...I don't really recall I'm not gonna lie, just ol Tokrun saw it in me when he came across Concord, argued with the old man for a bit before he snatched me to join the Jedi..." Maynard stated in simple terms.

"Shit nah- you're right. I can be real stupid sometimes I'm not gonna lie..." Treicolt iterates with a shrug, his eyes eventually drifting from hers. Even if he could barely discern her features just keeping eye contact with her for long enough spiked his nerves. It wasn't at all a sensation he was familiar with. His interactions with women were short and simple at best. Growing up an impoverished youth in a backwater town before being napped up by the Jedi and leaving it to smuggle cargo on his ship on which he was almost entirely alone sparing his BB unit, yeah it made sense that Maynard was a bit less people inclined than most and certainly explained an inexperience with navigating these...feelings.

"Yeah I just...shit its not too often I can just talk to someone, ya know? Ryv's my guy but he's short of time when he's not savin' the Galaxy n' all that. But- I don't know I feel comfortable around you, don't really feel that around a lot of people." Maynard admitted before his hazy eyes shifted to hers once more.

"Concussion? Yeah I'd probably bet good money on it..." Maynard offered with a faint laugh even as his head was ringing from...well...the concussion.

"Where is it you're headed after Brentaal? Or is it just kind've a...wherever you're needed kinda thing?" Maynard inquired curiously.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Frustrated, she reached out and flicked his shoulder when he dejectedly referred to himself as stupid. Again. Was he not listening to her sage advice? "If you didn't have a concussion, I'd flick you on the nose." She groaned with a shake of her head.

"I have that affect on people; it's my vulnerability." Loske confirmed, giving a tight nod. Her stomach tightened at the casual reference to Ryv when she was pretty sure he was dead. Maynard's gut be damned. The knotting sensation in her belly made her shudder a bit, nausea threatening to rear it's ugly head again. "But I'm glad you're talking to me, this is nice."

Where was she headed? "I think I'm going to stay on board here until we get to Anaxes. There are probably a few people that need some help and..I'll see what I can do. I don't want to head back to Peace yet...that'd put me too far away.." From Cedric, who was in the med bay on ice. "From whatever they need done." She looked down at her hands, almost helplessly in the realization that she was more a weapon than a healer.

Then we're being deployed to Kuat. Similar situation there, Blackwing virus outbreak. But the calefaction reports are different than what we just saw down there. Frank, timely as ever, rolled up to announce he was done triangulating the charts and information.

I was right. He confirmed to both of them and neither of them at the same time. While sitting, he was eye-level with the pair; a nice feeling for him. I thought there were similar geothermal readings to what we saw on Brentaal IV to your time in the netherworld. I wasn't the only one who collected this.

Loske exchanged a look with Maynard Treicolt that winced off any explanation of herself visiting the land of the dead. It hadn't been pretty. She'd vomited. "You should get that up to the admiral." Loske admitted to the droid, unfolding her legs to stand up with a stretch. Something in her hip popped.

"And you," she turned to Maynard with a hand out "--should probably go to the med bay. I'll walk with you, if you want, in case you fall over or something.

Also, maybe there'll be a chair or something I can catch a quick wink on."

You are entering hour forty-nine of no sleep.

"I'm going to shut down in like, fifteen minutes." Loske admitted, rubbing her eyes tiredly. They still felt like sandpaper, and when she pulled her hand away she was dismayed to see how much gunk was collected on the outside of her hand. A nap and a shower would be required in due time.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

"Certainly won't duck out of Anaxes - don't really got the choice but shit afterwards...I might need r and r." He remarks with a faint laugh. To her suggestion of heading to the medbay he nodded once, slowly rising to his feet, the action alone spurring a sharp pain through his body that nearly sent him collapsing unto the floor beneath him.

"Yeah- if you wouldn't mind because- not sure if I can make it the whole stretch not gonna lie..." That was about one third truth, one third lie and one third an excuse to continue talking to her. Someone to test his slowly returning vision on with frequent glances her way wouldn't hurt either.

"You were down somewhere on Brentaal right? You make it out of all this ok? I don't care to talk about myself too much." He asked, arching a brow to her as he tries the very bold maneuver at taking her hand...to remain upright of course.

---

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The med bay is a floor up from the hangars, the lift is at the end of this corridor. I'm going to try and find the admiral - or some way to transmit these netherworld readings to him or another analyst.

"Thanks, Frank."

He tweeted something that wasn't in galactic basic and lead the direction to the lift. He'd get off on floors above the med bay, but for the meantime could help them navigate in the foreign ship. For the most part all capitol ships seemed to have a similar layout, so Loske wasn't too concerned about Frank abandoning them and taking the blueprints with him.

"One...five!" A familiar voice called behind them, and Loske slowed to turn around while a furry friend in a navy jumpsuit jogged toward them, waving to flag their attention. "We're," pant "-going to check out the-" pant "-what this ship's got to offer for a bar. Y'know, drown our sorrows. Figure most of the other folks on this ship are more focused on more important things." The Shistavanen managed to catch her breath for the final ask: "You wanna join?"

"Maybe after," Loske nodded, and shouldered in the direction of Maynard Treicolt "We're taking a quick visit to the med bay." Alcohol and a concussion probably wasn't a good mix.

That seemed to make sense, and four bobbed her head in comprehension. "Cool."

"But hey," she reached out to stop her companion before the other pilot turned away, and patted her pockets with a concentrated expression. "First few rounds -- or whatever this gets you -- can be on me. These credits wouldn't've been doing me any good without you guys showing up. They're basically yours anyway." The smooth piece of tender was exchanged from one pilot to the other, and she got a comprehensive gesture of finger guns in receipt.

By the time she turned back to walk, May was standing. They started in step, before a flare of alarm blossomed in her chest when she felt his fingers brush against the outside of her hand. She'd offered it to help him get up, but then had been distracted by Four's arrival. Maybe he was woozier than she thought. They had just been sitting for a long time. With that rationale, she acquiesced and knocked her elbow against him for additional reinforcement - basically shoulder to shoulder. If he wavered, she'd tighten her grip to keep it steady; otherwise it was only a loose, reassuring pressure.

"Yeah, uh, I was issued out there the..day?" Loske looked up, as if there was a calendar on the ceiling that would help her place her timeline. "..before today with The Imperium's forces, including Cedric and Ryv. It started with a ship above Tepasi that looked like it was infected with Blackwing, the ship's blackbox started on Brentaal, so we traced it back to find...a bunch of horrible zombies. I uh, separated from Cedric and Ryv's squadron to help another section of the city and I.." she closed her eyes tightly, inhaling a shaky breath. Just saying their names made her throat itch, and anything she'd been holding in was at the precipice of becoming unravelled. "Really wish I hadn't. Even if I couldn't ultimately stop what happened, just...a little bit longer with them before...uh." The sentence couldn't finish. Before this? Before they'd been lost? Killed? Compromised?

"So no, I've been better." She answered more pointedly to his question, a tremble coursing through her body. "Like, infinitely better. I don't think I've been worse."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

A drink sounded pretty good right about now. Wouldn't have done the concussed and otherwise aching Maynard any good however, a concussion AND hangover? Not a fun thought, even in all Maynard's short sight he could see that. The other pilot couldn't really hold anything against him when Maynard remained quiet, with the look of dirt, tried blood and fresh lacerations over his face it was difficult to argue that Maynard might not be the most talkative.

Unless it was with Loske, where he was clearly very candid. Though it might've been more of a supportive gesture from her more than anything the lock of her arm under his drove his nerves to spike again. The closeness...felt nice. He'd never had that with anyone to this point, being a mostly wayward spacer he'd never felt any...intimate relationship to anyone prior, more content to keep to himself over anyone else. Though that was still mostly the case, Loske's disposition toward Maynard made it an easy habit to shrug off.

For a moment after she made her thoughts known he was silent, intently listening to what she said as his own blurried vision and her pace leading him made it easy to isolate her voice over everything else in the corridors of The Radiance. With a queue leading into the med bay Maynard saw fit to stop the pair ahead of the gathering crowd, glancing in the direction of the people gathered before the sick bay before his gaze went back to hers, loosening the lock of arms if only to try and lace his fingers between hers.

"I know- I mean...I know exactly how you feel. I never knew Cedric but, I lost my master a long while ago and Ryv might be my best damn friend. Its- I don't know what to say, I haven't accepted all of it myself. I got a gut feeling that they're all good but- I don't know." Maynard admits, offering a low breath as his nerves spike once more from the closeness and isolation of the two from everything else. His insides feeling tight from anxiousness, barring the injuries spelled over his body.

"I-..." Maynard seemed to pause, interrupting himself. He'd been open and honest with her so far but he seemed to mull over his next few words carefully.

"I- I'm here for you. Just like you have been for me. I care about you- like...a lot, not gonna lie." Maynard admits.

---

Loske Treicolt