Azrael
RETIRED
Several Galactic Standard months had come and gone. Seasons on so many planets had obeyed the laws of their own natural biospheres. People had come and gone, in lands distant and close, and each circle of every solar axis had completed the journey with dozens of planets and moons like. Time had passed since a young Field Marshal from the great Mandalorian armada had drifted from home in search of one of the last fragments of a shattered past. Loose ends that still had nagged at the back of the half-blood's mind had needed attention. From the nearby planet of Phaeda to the outer reaches of the galaxy and into the uncharted depths of wild space, Azrael had traveled and traversed the stars. No communication or missive sent or received from Manda'yaim in the course of the months gone by -- at least none that he had gotten. The journey was meant to be solitary in nature, but hadn't been conceived that it's length would far exceed the Mandalorian's expectations.
Now, on the horizon of Mandalorian territory with a trajectory blazing through the hyperspace lanes - a single ship raced across the void of space heading home for a reunion long overdo. The weight of his past had always hung around his shoulders like a mantle that he carried in silence. Those feelings of his past now mixed with the trials he had gone through in this escapade he'd been through. Thought thoughts however were pushed aside, as the more necessary concern was getting his ship back in one piece to the shimmering jewel of the Mandalorian's culture.
Inside the cockpit of the Night Shadow, all was not quiet. The ship was low on fuel, high on heat, and not exactly in one shining piece. It was still flying though, or more precisely launched. Like a giant dart hurtling through space, he was not so much trying to steer it as he was trying to aim it. The rudders were about shot, several pieces of each stabilizer were entirely missing. The ship itself had a dozen jury-rigged parts holding it together. His ship had been through just about as much as he had been in this long absence, and only thanks to some high ingenuity, and salvaging experience was it able to break through and make this journey back to the heart of his people. Hyperdrive engines whined and waned as the turbulence from the hyperspace line jerked the ship back and forth. The course wasn't exactly plotted as guessed. Normally a smooth journey if you had the right coordinates. Much less than that if you were estimating them - which he was forced to do thanks to a very unhealthy relationship between the ship's navigational system and the power core.
"Shabla!" Azrael shouted as he gripped the yoke tightly. Trying to avoid the tearing and ripping effects of a half-arsed space lane shuttle towards Mandalore. Alarms rang in his ears as the cockpit glowed in bright red warning lights. "I know, I know!" Again the Mandalorian yelled as his controls that were warning him of things very critical to flight, trajectory and the ship wanting to blow up instead of hold together. He knew it wouldn't last much longer with such a jarring half-way lane, and he'd rather save his ship than try to navigate further through this maze. The problem with hyperspace travel though - is knowing when and where to exit - of which he didn't. "Fine...you want to play hardball, we'll play hardball." Azrael said through gritted teeth. Who exactly he was talking to was unsure, but most likely a non-sentient ship's computer. Taking a quick moment to slip on his helmet, the communication array within immediately booted up and locked onto his location. It wouldn't interface with the computer on board (he'd already tried that) but it would certainly call out for assistance.
:: Calling all vode. Inbound on unstable trajectory - coming in hot to Manda'yaim. If you've got my IFF, get me to ground before this hunk of metal decides to become scrap. ::
The call went out to Mandalorian's all around the area. It was not exactly the kind of greeting he wanted to give the vode on his return, but it was better to be alive and abrupt, than subtle and a floating set of armor in the black. A quick activation of thrust that he didn't think he could even spare coupled with the deactivation of his hyperdrive, shot his ship out from the hyper lane and into a minefield of a small asteroid field. Immediately he was jerking the yoke back and forth trying to avoid the obstacles in his path. A floating rock garden that seemed to be lying in wait to chew his ship up and leave little behind. The helmet was compensating for his eyes, trying to give him a clear shot, but his speed wasn't exactly decreasing either.
"Bic ni skana'din!" Azrael grumbled as he moved back and forth trying to dodge the space debris, slicing up various panels of his battle worn ship while trying to make a bee-line for the planet that was just coming into sight. He was hoping that part of the vode would respond in time and give him some direction or fleet assistance to make it to Manda'yaim in one piece.
Now, on the horizon of Mandalorian territory with a trajectory blazing through the hyperspace lanes - a single ship raced across the void of space heading home for a reunion long overdo. The weight of his past had always hung around his shoulders like a mantle that he carried in silence. Those feelings of his past now mixed with the trials he had gone through in this escapade he'd been through. Thought thoughts however were pushed aside, as the more necessary concern was getting his ship back in one piece to the shimmering jewel of the Mandalorian's culture.
Inside the cockpit of the Night Shadow, all was not quiet. The ship was low on fuel, high on heat, and not exactly in one shining piece. It was still flying though, or more precisely launched. Like a giant dart hurtling through space, he was not so much trying to steer it as he was trying to aim it. The rudders were about shot, several pieces of each stabilizer were entirely missing. The ship itself had a dozen jury-rigged parts holding it together. His ship had been through just about as much as he had been in this long absence, and only thanks to some high ingenuity, and salvaging experience was it able to break through and make this journey back to the heart of his people. Hyperdrive engines whined and waned as the turbulence from the hyperspace line jerked the ship back and forth. The course wasn't exactly plotted as guessed. Normally a smooth journey if you had the right coordinates. Much less than that if you were estimating them - which he was forced to do thanks to a very unhealthy relationship between the ship's navigational system and the power core.
"Shabla!" Azrael shouted as he gripped the yoke tightly. Trying to avoid the tearing and ripping effects of a half-arsed space lane shuttle towards Mandalore. Alarms rang in his ears as the cockpit glowed in bright red warning lights. "I know, I know!" Again the Mandalorian yelled as his controls that were warning him of things very critical to flight, trajectory and the ship wanting to blow up instead of hold together. He knew it wouldn't last much longer with such a jarring half-way lane, and he'd rather save his ship than try to navigate further through this maze. The problem with hyperspace travel though - is knowing when and where to exit - of which he didn't. "Fine...you want to play hardball, we'll play hardball." Azrael said through gritted teeth. Who exactly he was talking to was unsure, but most likely a non-sentient ship's computer. Taking a quick moment to slip on his helmet, the communication array within immediately booted up and locked onto his location. It wouldn't interface with the computer on board (he'd already tried that) but it would certainly call out for assistance.
:: Calling all vode. Inbound on unstable trajectory - coming in hot to Manda'yaim. If you've got my IFF, get me to ground before this hunk of metal decides to become scrap. ::
The call went out to Mandalorian's all around the area. It was not exactly the kind of greeting he wanted to give the vode on his return, but it was better to be alive and abrupt, than subtle and a floating set of armor in the black. A quick activation of thrust that he didn't think he could even spare coupled with the deactivation of his hyperdrive, shot his ship out from the hyper lane and into a minefield of a small asteroid field. Immediately he was jerking the yoke back and forth trying to avoid the obstacles in his path. A floating rock garden that seemed to be lying in wait to chew his ship up and leave little behind. The helmet was compensating for his eyes, trying to give him a clear shot, but his speed wasn't exactly decreasing either.
"Bic ni skana'din!" Azrael grumbled as he moved back and forth trying to dodge the space debris, slicing up various panels of his battle worn ship while trying to make a bee-line for the planet that was just coming into sight. He was hoping that part of the vode would respond in time and give him some direction or fleet assistance to make it to Manda'yaim in one piece.
[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Isley Verd"]