First Reply Recalibration

[Ordo]

His ancient YT-2000 cast itself through the infinite black as He began a tour of relearning to be. His gray-green eyes watched the small dot of the refueling station resolved itself in His viewport against the the void that rested like a back-lit black canvas with pin holes punch throughout. He had been here before, when it had been new, but what greeted him now was something much different.

The fueling station had become a small moon of combined stations and cobled capital ships. It was like someone had decided out in the vast nothingness to hide themselves away and make their own world far from the grasp of governments and wars.

"Hope they still have fuel." He said to the empty cockpit.

Within a few moments He sent His transponder details and was autoguided to a docking port. The loud hiss of pressurized air and the thump of sealing clamps echoed through the hull as He passed through the air lock and into the station only to be met by a work crew.

"50 credits to dock and then fuel by tare weight." The weequay man said before looking up from a datapad and staring into the cold transparibeskar of the T-shaped visor. "We don't want any trouble here, Mandalorian."

"You won't be any trouble." Ordo replied as He handed over a obsidian credit stick, "Restock the gally and fill the water tanks."

He didn't wait for a reply as He made His way to whatever passed for food in this place. He was getting his appetite back.

 

[Zinayn]

Zinayn let out a sigh as he watched the solemn crewers refuel his shuttle. This was an out-of-the-way station, but it would work for the Chiss's needs. He'd been on his way back to Kirima when his fuel indicator flashed, and this station was the closest refueling depot within his range. Lucky, one could say. But Zinayn probably could have made it back to the Lilaste Order's HQ before his shuttle ran dry. He was telling himself that he stopped for fuel, but in reality he still craved freedom. A few weeks ago, he'd settled down with the Lilaste Order and decided being a teacher would give him a sense of purpose. And it did. Before, he'd had an abundance of freedom and a lack of purpose. Now, it was switched.

Taking a detour to this station gave him a feeling of freedom, however small it was, and Zinayn felt good about it. He certainly didn't feel good about those guys refueling his ship, though. They'd been over there for a while, maybe he should check on them-

A vibration filled the air and the Chiss turned to his left. Sweeping through the electromagnetic field that kept the air in and the vacuum out was a large freighter, probably a YT-2000 if Zinayn remembered correctly. Out of it stomped an imposing armored Mandalorian. The Gray Jedi's crimson eyes widened, gleaming from under his gray hood. The warrior looked like he wouldn't be moved an inch if a starfighter crashed into him.

The Mando handed a crewer a credit stick and walked away from his ship, presumably for drink or food. Incredible how someone could trust these workers enough to leave their ship unattended. Although, the crewers certainly wouldn't lay a finger on the freighter after being intimidated so thoroughly by that man. Zinayn averted his eyes and continued watching the men fuel his ship.

Ordo

 

[Ordo]

Zinayn

The Mandalorian made His way across the docking bay to a line of open front shops all crowded with as many denizens as the galaxy could handle. The force parted around him like a a river around a stone. He didn't choose the let it in most of the time, and that as usual made the few people that got close to Him naturally shy away.

The sounds of the bustle and the overlapping chatter of dozens of languages formed a cacophony in his ears. He walked toward one. The steam rose from the front of the stores cooking wafted out before the air ducting recyclers finally pulled it back to be filtered out.

He stood behind a small crowd and waited for a seat to open. The milling people moved away slightly as a large armed and armored, Mandalorian approached, other people's hunger outweighed the discomfort. After no more than ten or fifteen minutes He finally leaned His cm-fragstorm against the open counter and sat at a stool then removed His buy'ce and sat it at his elbow. The myriad smells finally hit Him.

"What do you want?" The older human asked from the otherside of the counter, his face lined and beaded with steam and sweat.

"Noodles," Ordo replied calmly, "Bantha bone broth, or Nerf if you don't have it. All the toppings, please."

The man didn't answer but turned around to start making the soup.

 

[Zinayn]

Finally, the crewers stood up, wrapped the fuel hose, and headed towards him. Zinayn watched the two workers, examining them closely. Why would any of them sabotage his ship? They hardly knew the man underneath that gray hood. Both of the workers split apart to walk past Zinayn on both sides. If they tried any funny business, the Gray Jedi had both lightsabers positioned perfectly for action. One of the workers, bald and blue-eyed, looked at the Chiss and warned, "You'd best be leaving now." The other worker, a skinny one, nodded.

As Bald walked past, his shoulder crashed into Zinayn's, leaving the new teacher to watch the men depart. Something was off. Atop that strange encounter, now the Force was giving him some premonition of something about to come. It was vague, but it was clear enough for Zinayn to know that it concerned those two crewers, and it wasn't good.

The Chiss let the men walk a dozen meters ahead before following them, his footsteps light. Walking past the YT-2000 freighter he was reminded of the hulking Mandalorian warrior who had departed. He was now headed where the Mandalorian had been going.

The workers entered a dimly lit hallway, a blast door sliding aside to admit them. Zinayn dashed forward, the sounds of his robes flapping hidden conveniently by a refitted gunboat making its landing. The door slid shut just as Zinayn entered the hallway. Keeping his footsteps silent, he tuned into the Force to augment his hearing, focusing in on the two men ahead.

Moments later, the conversation began. "That guy won't know what hit him," Bald said.

Skinny scoffed. "Those charges outta give him enough fuel to make it all the way to the Core! Lilaste scum!"

The men laughed then, the harsh sound filling the hallway in an echo of doom. But the doom would not be Zinayn's. Whatever little operation was going on here, whether it was just these men that disliked the Lilaste Order, or if it was part of a larger scheme (or even a base of the Dusate Pirates themselves), the Chiss would put an end to it.

The vroom of his golden lightsaber igniting drowned out the laughter. The pirates froze and Zinayn could sense their terror. They turned in unison, fear etched on their faces. "Tell me. What's going on here?"

The fear turned into rage as the men drew their blaster pistols and squeezed off a few shots before rushing for the blast door a half-dozen meters away. The Gray Jedi master deflected the bolts with ease, scoring the already dirty walls with carbon.

Refocusing on the men scrambling to escape to the snack area, Zinayn reached out a hand, and both of them tripped and began sliding back on the durasteel floor, retracing their steps back to the hangar. Back towards Zinayn. "Please, help! Someone help!" yelled Bald.

The two stopped sliding when they were positioned before the Gray Jedi's feet. "So. You sabotaged my ship?" Zinayn asked, tilting his head.

Skinny turned around to face the menacing red glow from underneath Zinayn's hood, sputtering, "P-please! We didn't have a ch-choice! The pirates are here! They'll take our families if we don't do as they say."

So that explained it. The Dusate Pirates were here, and this was one of their bases. That explained the ships outside. And the hostile looks from the other crewers. Well, Zinayn would just have to find the manager of this station and sort things out. As for these two...

With another wave of his hand, the workers went limp. They would be unconscious for an hour or so; more than enough time for Zinayn to get to the bottom of this strangeness. For now though, it was snack time.

Ordo

 

[Ordo]

He took a deep breath the hot aromatic steam wafted up to His face and caressed His olfactory nerves. Electric impulses traveled to His brain and a chill ran down His spine. It was a beautiful potion of slow cooked bone marrow broth with heavenly wavey noodles topped with 2 thick slices of meat, green onion like vegetables, atrisian bamboo shoots, julienne mushrooms and a halved soft boiled egg. The array of colors danced in the thick broth as He savored the first hot food He had seen outside of rations and camp food in years.

"Perfect." He said to no one, and everyone as His massive world shunk down to just Him and His bowl of soup.

He took up His hashi in one hand and a spoon with the other and slowly dipped the spoon into the broth. The synthetic lights caught bubbles and surface fats, casting them with tiny rainbow sheens before He lifted the broth to His scar riddled face and sipped. The explosion of flavors danced across His tongue. His eyes closed as the liquefied fats and marrow traced a hand across His soul like a lover come home. The corner of His mouth twitched up for a moment, a full smile, and he swallowed. The warmth cascaded down his throat as as radiated warm satisfying rejuvenation through his every limb. He had found peace.

Perhaps it was possible to give up His violent life and return to being just a farmer. Raise a family and animals. He could give up on the wars and death and focus on making His people better, happier, safer. Teach them a better way....

The sound of a scuffle out side running and falling then dragging tried to pull His attention away. He refused. He was done. He would lay down His weapons and bring peace to the Mandalorians, and He could do it. He was sure, and then the sound of a blaster being pulled from its holster from close by drew His eyes to His periphery and the man who had drew the weapon. The spacer was looking passed the curtain outside and began to move toward the disturbance. Whether it was fate, badd luck, or a cosmic feth you the man in his haste tripped and collided into the big mandalorian as he was dipping his hashi into the bowl. Determined to ignore anything but his meal the mandalorian didn't catch the fool on time and the spacer dipped his blaster in Ordo's noodles, then fired. The bowl exploded sending noodles and broth cascading acrossed the counter and the dull grey armor of the mandalorian.

The spacer, pirate, murderer, whatever he may have been within barely a blink was suspended in the air. His throat encased in two huge armored hands.

"Die" The Mandalorian said, and the spacer instantly went limp. He dropped the spacer and put His buy'ce back on. He wasn't leaving until He had His vengeance in full...

Zinayn