Soldier, Poet, King

[Kinsey Starchaser]

Makeb

Blue eyes filled with a thousand starbursts looked sharply out the viewport as they entered the atmosphere of Makeb. The rock formations pierced through the upper atmosphere like cumulonimbus clouds. She'd just come off the Mara Corridor and heard a distress signal from the Silver Jedi. Normally, the spacer would stay high and clear of the major galactic powers and their politics.

Only, the girl needed credits.

Pibs needed a hydrolics change.

And here she and the pebbledrone were. About to run into her two least favorite types of folk: jedi and sith. Stomach dropped as she piloted them in closer to the coordinates. There's no way he'd be there. She'd be fine.

Jaw clenched.

Fine.

Force signature was well hidden. No enemy ships had picked her up yet. Hopefully, this would be a quick evac job. In and out. Kinsey brought her modified u-wing in closer, finding a cleared spot on the outskirts of the city-top. Pibs warbled.

"Yeah, multiple life-signs. Hopefully they're not trapped in one of the caves around here."

Or worse, the water below.

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

 

[Zef Halo]

Everything had gone wrong.

Intelligence leak or an inside man, it mattered little.

—

The sun peacefully grazed the rocky floor of the plateau where the U-wing had gracefully landed. No wind breezed the dust carpets that covered the ground and the sounds of harmless flora soothed the air. One could very thoroughly enjoy a day out with a cup of tapcaf and a light cigarette and call out from their porch ‘What a great day to be alive, eh Jack?” to no one but their self.

And it really could’ve been through had Amon not hit a kill switch detonating a large chunk of the cavern complex within the plateau which housed an OS Remnant Intelligence Outpost.

So just when Kinsey strolled the plateau of harmony in the direction of the cavern opening, only bothered by the creaking noise of bad hydraulics her droid carried, everything suddenly changed and the bad hydraulics were the least of her problems.

Thunderous rumble one after the other cracking the air as a sequence of explosions took out part by part the cavern complex. With each roar of detonation a dust cloud in the form of a mushroom blasted into the sky painting a grotesque picture on the tranquil canvas of the ‘great day to be alive, eh Jack’.

If that wasn’t enough of a problem, here’s another - Amon stormed out of the cavern exit carrying a body of a man on his shoulders with an Antarian Ranger armor just like his but also a helmet. The Mandalorian had tossed his own helmet away due to it malfunctioning completely after saving him from a headshot. He had no time or thought to pant from the excessive exhaustion sprinting with a whole armored body on his shoulders and it was justified.

A rain of blaster fire followed him from the dust cloud he left behind. He really couldn’t think much about panting. The Mandalorian saw the figure of a woman and her droid with a ship in their background. Considering there was no one else, he thought this someone had answered his distress signal. Amon could not care less who it was since he was busy enough to survive. In his own grumpy and sharp words ‘Not dying today, aruetii’.

“Run, woman!” He growled at her just as he passed her headed to her ship. Galactic manners stated that was no way to treat your evac. Mandalorian manners stated ‘kark off’. The glance he threw her as he moved past her could probably make a grand admiral squirm and get to obeying orders but it could probably make a spacer trash draw their gun and shoot him.

Life’s a game of dice, Amon had once heard an aruetii smuggler say that.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

Well, well, well, at least she wasn't mando trash.

"Something isn't...," didn't have time to finish that comment as explosions hit the area and the ground beneath her feet shook. A man running like a nerf from a nerfsteak factory growled at her as he passed. Blaster was already in her hand. And she fired.

But not at the fleeing mando.

At the sith troopers running toward them. Booted-feet back-pedaled. They were ticked. Almost as ticked as she was beginning to feel.

"Pibs, check the distress signal to make sure it matches that loon-o, yeah? If it doesn't match, stun 'im"

Pibs beeped a warble and wheeled back to the ship, easily passing her would-be-contact.

Wrist shield activated as the girl caught a bolt against its energized barrier. She grunted and ran to catch up with droid and man carrying man, firing pot-shots over her shoulder. "Karking had to be a mando," she muttered under her breath. For a tense moment, she waited for Pib's confirmation whistle, ready to turn that blaster on the back of this chump.

Luckily for him, the whistle came as they boarded her ship.

The stranger silver member would find the girl could just as easily bark out orders. "Strap him in. Strap yourself in. Hang on and don't bother me." With a smack of her palm on a button, she closed the u-wing's door, flipped off her wrist shield and holstered her blaster, scrambling up to the cockpit. The hum of the engines would rumble beneath their feet soon enough.

 

[Zef Halo]

The odd looking droid rolled past him and Amon almost felt the urge to kick it like a ball sideways. Anger reeked off him from the complete fiasco of an operation just now. He had to find a way to clear his head, somehow.

Blaster fire was returned from the spacer looking girl before she boarded her piece of junk right after him howling orders like she was Mand’alor. Amon followed them to the point. Nearly. He strapped in Corporal Sioux who was knocked out and nearly dead and stood up heading to the cockpit with a dark frown throwing shadow over his war-painted and smog brushed face. The ship rocked as it took a sharp ascension and Amon almost tripped. His hand caught a railing, one that seemed to be centuries old and he cursed under his breath. Adrenaline still glowed in his eyes from the near death experience as he entered the cockpit.

“Medical equipment.” He stated laconically. “The arueti- the man is close to dying.”

As if things couldn’t get worse, a pair of TIE interceptors broke through clouds opening fire on the U-wing. Amon held for dear life.

“Get us to Silver Jedi space, pilot.” the Mandalorian grumbled holding a vertical railing next to the cockpit’s door and intensely watching the view-screen where the TIE interceptors came straight at them. “Get us alive.”

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

"Alive is the plan."

A thousand rude quips lay poised on the tip of her tongue like barbed wire. She held them back. Barely. Fingerless gloved hands gripped the controls tightly as she took them into the upper-atmosphere. Luckily, the rock-formations were throwing off the TIE interceptors. They were fast little buggars. Faster and more armed than their hick-cousins.

"Pibs, help soldier boy." The little droid booped and warbled, red-sensor swiveling, head canting slightly to the side as it looked up at Amon. Kinsey jerked them hard port, red turbo-laser fire lancing just ahead of the viewport. The pebbledrone rolled past Amon and down the short steps to the main cabin, pointing to a tin-box on one of the back-shelves with a faded red-cross on it.

"Name is Kinsey but that's Captain to you. Kindly stay behind the yellow line." There wasn't one but the meaning was clear enough.

Hard turn to starboard.

 

[Zef Halo]

Amon caught the vileness of her tongue but chose to ignore it. It mattered little right now. He followed the rolling wheel of scrap through the interior of the U-wing rocking sideways like on an air boat in a wild sea trying to capsize it.

"Name is Kinsey but that's Captain to you.Kindly stay behind the yellow line.

Any other sentient in the galaxy could've caught the drift but not a Mandalorian. They tended to take words absolutely literally and Amon was no different. He simply nodded understandingly. To him, she simply had stated her rank to whatever organization or government she served. The way she highlighted the word Captain passed over his head.

"Okay." He replied tonelessly and nearly fell down when she hurled the ship starboard side. Amon very much missed his mag boots.

The Mandalorian came back a minute after without crossing the faded yellow line - a clear symbol of the forlorn state of the ship. He made no comment about it but grimly said.

"He's dead."

The statement bore no feeling in his voice, the way Mandalorians were bred they observed death quite simply. No wonder some critics described the Mandalorian culture as a Death Cult.

"Are there any laser cannons I can use?" he asked glancing at the radar readings pinpointing the TIE interceptors forming a tail behind the U-Wing. "Otherwise I don't see us surviving this."

"Not with this unreliable state this ship is in, Captain Kinsey." there was no mockery, nor arrogance in his tone. Simply a statement of his observation.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

He’s dead.

Lips pursed slightly. There was a slight tightening of her jaw. She found herself wondering what the kark happened down there. But now wasn’t the time to ask questions. Against her better judgement, a finger pointed to the co-pilot’s seat. Inside the yellow line.

“There. Set of laser canons. And she’s more than she seems.”

The ship.

The u-wing shuddered as it took a glancing blow. Warning lights flashed in the cabin. She spun them around the upper tier of a rock tower. Thrusters burned. Atmosphere turned to the blackness of space. Fingers jabbed in the hyperspace coordinates. There were two TIEs coming from the front as she pushed the lever to get them out of real space. Stars elongated as they made the jump.

She’d come up with the coordinates fast. More of a feeling than a science for the Starchaser. With the brief respite came her first question.

“What happened down there?”

 

[Zef Halo]

Amon nodded and rushed at the co-pilot's seat. Buckling up like the good, disciplined soldier he was, the Mandalorian did not waste time to figure out how to operate the cannons. He mentally praised the simplicity of the design which vaguely reminded him of the Mandalorians own pragmatic designs when it came to...everything. A few misplaced blasts before he got one's wing shot down and Captain Kinsey sent them to hyperspace.

Suddenly the heat of battle, the adrenaline rush, the bated breath - all replaced by the soothing calmness of the endless passing lines of hyperspace. The abrupt radical shift could give one an intense sensation of vertigo.

“What happened down there?”

He nearly missed the question due to losing himself in the magnetic pull of light speed. Amon invisibly shook his head to bring his mind back to reality and replied:

"The One Sith Remant expected us when they shouldn't have."

The Mandalorian let the words linger for a while and then turned to look at Kinsey. He let his gaze impolitely analyze her face. Young, slightly younger than him. Too young for a captain. Fair skin that did not match the spacer trash aesthetic surrounding her and eyes he could say were quite pretty.

And familiar.

Incredibly familiar. Something about the 'flame' in her eyes reminded him of someone.He winced trying to unravel the mystery behind the familiarity but failed to do so.

"Seven out of eight dead." Amon reported as if he was speaking to his CO and then he realized he had not been speaking to his CO. Why the hell was he explaining anything to this stranger.

"You're not military, Kinsey." He threw the ball back at her and jerked his head around the cockpit. "You're a smuggler or worse." the words came out like a grand jury smacking down his verdict on a case.

"Why answer the distress signal?" suspicious grew in his tone and painted on his face. His hand landed on the hilt of the darksaber at his side.

"And where. are we. going?" he gave her a murderous frown.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

Soldier boy would find an equally investigative gaze back in his direction. Kinsey was a lot of things but shy wasn't one of them. Tended to happen when growing up on a colony ship with lots of folk and limited space.

'You're a smuggler or worse.'

Sandy-brown brow quirked.

"Let me remind you that this worse just saved your arse." There was no venom in her words. The girl was just stating a fact. As gently as possibly. Okay, maybe not so gently. But she was trying. This guy had just lost a lot of folk and one of them was back in her main cabin. Even the best soldiers went through a degree of shock. Processing.

Blues flickered to the direction of his hand. Her own raised slowly up - well away from the sidearm strapped to her thigh. "Even the best pilot in the galaxy needs credits to eat," shoulders shrugged as she went to unstrap her crash webbing. Then begin to stand, moving like someone would around a wild animal. Slow. Deliberate.

"We just entered the Mara Corridor. Fastest way back to your space. Lannik."

Yeah, it was his space. Silver Jedi. Very clearly stated not hers.

Easing past him, knowing she'd be able to handle herself if he decided to get frisky, the girl exited the cockpit and went to the small kitchenette in the back. Mugs hung along the wall with everything organized very precisely, taking advantage of the small space. Tins of tea, small pots of herbs, ration packs. Nothing extravagant. A hammock looped overhead.

Amon might begin to realize this was more than a ship; it was her home.

"You got a name you're gonna share or what?"

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

 

[Zef Halo]

Amon stared at her as she slowly moved out of the cockpit. He was no interrogator to be completely certain but she seemed to be speaking the truth. And frankly, there was not much the Vizsla could do in his situation right now. She, as much as he hated to admit it, had saved him from the mess below. There was no chance for the Mandalorian to run unscathed to safety in the open plateau with a body on his back and a company of Sith soldiers hunting him down.

He stood up from the co-pilot's seat and followed her to a small kitchenette he had missed. A raised eyebrow inspected it coming to the conclusion this looked too much of a home than a usual starship. A true spacer. No one who used ships only as a means of transportation would have had actual mugs or some vague forms of decoration and certainly not a hammock.

The Mandalorian had found himself in Kinsey's home.

"You got a name you're gonna share or what?"

"Amon Vizsla." he introduced himself with the earlier intensity gone. Suspicion no longer lied on the table for him. Nonetheless, everything about Amon seemed to emit tension and intimidation. A few fellow Rangers had told him that. 'Ease up, Mando boy. It's a blue-milk run.' 'Do you even ever relax, Vizsla?' 'How do you not get any aches from being upright all the time?' 'You are too tense. Even for a Mandalorian.' The memories flashed across his mind and in each of them he had replied with silence. Amon always found these questions irrelevant but if he had to put an answer to them it would be - his father. He had been born and bred by his father to become eventually the next Alor of the notorious clan Vizsla. He had to fit the image of his father.

"Your ship reminds me of Mandalorian simplicity." he was definitely not a master of small talk. Not even an acolyte of small talk. Amon knew that so out of his ineptitude to socialize, the soldier snapped to a different topic. "Do you have a hyperspace relay on this ship? I need to send a very important message to the only Je'tii I trust." ironically, it was [member="Coren Starchaser"]. A Jedi who shared a lot of the warrior traits of Mandalorians.

The Mandalorian took out a datapad from a pocket of his light armor and showed it to Kinsey, against his common sense.

"Activities of Sith Assassins in the territory of the Silver Jedi." He looked in her eyes and added grimly. "Starchaser needs to know immediately before there's a catastrophe."

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

Maybe he was Mandalorian. Definitely using their language. Seemed to act like it. Was comfortable in armor. Kinsey always found it heavy and bulky. Restrictive.

Didn't mean it wasn't smart, though. Could've saved her from a slug shot once.

Vizsla.

Had that name been in the holonews lately?

The explorer leaned closer, starburst-blues catching the glow of the screen as she scanned the information Amon offered. Not trusting jedi. Kinsey could understand that. She'd seen the inside of an Alliance prison for a time.

Wait.

Did he just say Starchaser?

Eyes snapped up to his face. It was a serious face full of sharp lines oozing determination and the weight of the verse. Chit. Maybe it wasn't Coren. Yeah, yeah. Maybe it was Kaia. She'd seen her Uncle recently after she'd helped destroy a pirate base that was hurting the Outer Rim folk. They were on better terms than they had been but Kinsey still liked to keep her distance. Very deliberately, she turned her back on Amon and began getting two mugs down.

"Starchaser? You want some tea or caf?"

Yeah, not to mention the dead body in her ship.

His question was left unanswered.

 

[Zef Halo]

Rather socially inept, Amon could not catch the subtle awkward actions of Captain Kinsey. The intense face had not disappeared and glued itself at the back of the spacer.

"Water." he replied before picking up the topic he had been on. "Yes, Jedi Master Coren Starchaser of the Silver Jedi Order."

"I need a hyperspace transceiver to send this message, Captain Kinsey. Do you have one or do you not?"

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

It would've been easy to lie.

Preferred even.

The word 'no' lay poised on her tongue like honey but it didn't come. Turning, she pushed the mug of water into Amon's hand. She didn't want any lives on her hands due to telling a simple fib. Had enough blood on 'em already.

And OF COURSE IT WAS FETHING [member="Coren Starchaser"].

He joined the Silver Jedi though?

That was news.

"Calling me Captain only when you want something, huh?" There was a brief lopsided grin on her mouth as she gripped her own mug in her hands. She'd made some Newban Chai. "Yes I have one. It's in the cockpit. Go at it." The girl waved him off. The guy was just sending a message. Didn't mean she'd have to see her Uncle.

This whole thing didn't seem right, though. Amon's whole mission wreaked of inside man. Did that mean someone in Silver leadership was compromised? She didn't like it. Kinsey didn't need to be on anyone else's watchlist. There was that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something bad was about to happen.

 

[Zef Halo]

Amon almost spilled the water after she outright shoved the mug of water at him for no reason he could put his mind to. He drank it down sating the dry mouth full of Makeb dust and briefly stared at her. Something seemed to bother her but the Mandalorian did not understand nor did he want. Everyone had their demons. For a moment he wondered if it had anything to do with his Vizsla identity.

"Yes, Kinsey." the man replied with a slight smirk flashing across his face. Perhaps the most of a smile that the stone of a face he had could muster.

With a quick and hard step of a soldier, Amon marched into the cockpit and activated the hyperspace transceiver sending the following holomessage to [member="Coren Starchaser"].

"This is Amon Vizsla of Task Force Raider. A small squad of us engaged to sabotage and obliterate a One Sith Remnant Intelligence Outpost on Makeb. Mission accomplished. Seven out of us eight Rangers are K.I.A. Sent a distress signal which one Captain Kinsey answered and she picked me up from a hotzone. Headed to Lannik now. More importantnly, we were able to acquire vital data on Sith Assassins operating deep in Silver Space. Transmitting all the data encrypted to you. Over and Out."

He closed the channel and came back to the kitchenette picking up the mug of water he had left at a small retractable table.

"It has been sent." Amon stated.

Silence reigned between them before he added mechanically.

"I am certain the Silver Jedi Order will recuperate your expense and transfer a reward for your actions."

Maybe that bothered her.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

"No, you don't have to tell him my na-," voice trailed off as Amon finished his message. Hand rubbed at her face, fingers traveling down her jawline. Pibs offered a sympathetic boop-beep.

Eyes narrowed at her droid.

What he said didn't bother her. Maybe his tone. There it was again. Cold. Mechanical. A soldier through and through. She'd met folk like him before and she always worried they would crack.

"I'm counting on something like that." Maybe that would surprise or bother him. Nothing was free in this verse. A job was a job. Pibs needed some upgrades and so did her ship. The cost of fuel was skyrocketing these days with all the conflict, for folk like her. Walking past Amon, she took the short steps back up to the cockpit and settled back in the Captain's seat. They would be coming out of hyperspace soon.

Still couldn't shake that gnawing dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Real space reversion will be coming up. Might want to strap i-," klaxons blared in the cockpit, cutting off her sentence. A sick, lurching sensation traveled up her toes through her spine and shoulders as hyperspace was suddenly interrupted. Her mug went flying and she felt her body sans-restraints crash against the control panel as the ship spun.

So much spinning.

A novice would've lost their lunch. Kinsey managed to keep her's down.

 

[Zef Halo]

Amon's stare stalked her out of the kitchenette and into the cockpit. He saw nothing wrong with Captain Kinsey being paid for answering a distress call of a Ranger unit in deep osik. But there seemed to be tension growing around her, something that wasn't there before. He stood there watching the entrance to the cockpit mulling over her stranger attitude.

The Mandalorian couldn't really connect the dots, not yet at least, so he ventured to the cockpit as she called him to strap i-.

Klaxons blared and the ship shuddered like it was being electrocuted forcing Amon to grab a nearby railing and hold for dear life. Hyperspace disappeared into the spinning cosmos of real space where the Mandalorian's guts wanted to escape out of his mouth. Kinsey's mug torpedoed the side of his forehead opening a small gash and blood trickled down or up. Down and up. Couldn't really decide from all the spinning.

Sensors came alive with a huge blob on them but there was no need of it for them to realize what was going on. A large interdictor cruiser floated like a ghost ship before it came alive with an onslaught of turbolasers. Amon had no time to judge Kinsey's piloting skills as it all happened in a flash and the ship cheated death with a crash landing on a planet that was certainly not Lannik.

Not that he could tell for certain after blacking out from the impact.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

Kinsey was holding onto the controls by fingertips. Experience and preternatural piloting abilities enabled her to remain conscious as wildly spinning stars turned into wildly spinning atmosphere.

To blobs and shades of an unidentified earth below. Details sharpened to trees. Rivers. With a grit of her teeth, she pushed the thrusters. The u-wing shuddered in labor pains. There was a moment of weightlessness as the craft pulled up and stopped spinning before coming to a crashing glide in a small clearing surrounded by jungle.

Arm cracked against the control panel as the adventurer sprawled forward. Head bonking against something as a lazy afternoon light streamed through the tinted glass of the cockpit. The blackness Kinsey had been holding back overtook her vision with a vengeance.

There were birds chirping. Or was that Pibs whistling?

 

[Zef Halo]

Knife going through his skull would've been a much more welcome pain than the headache of blacking out from the impact. The uncomfortable cold steel floor of the cockpit embraced him before he could stagger up on his feet. Vision swirled around madly for a moment and he nearly blacked out again from the strain of standing up. Dangling side to side before the Mandalorian could come back to reality and identify the most irritating noise this side of the galaxy had to offer.

The damn droid beeping as it went back and forth into Kinsey trying to wake her up.

She looked dead.

"Shut up." He muttered in Mandalorian as he grabbed his head as if that would dampen the pain. Amon then reached for Kinsey's pulse. Still there. "She's alive, shut up."

He trudged to the kitchenette and came back with a large mug of water. Its contents came down heavy on the pilot's knocked out face.

"Wake up." Amon ordered with the nominated for grumpiest tone award. "Now."

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Amon Vizsla"]

She was drowning. Kinsey's biggest fear. Consciousness cracked within her mind, blue eyes snapping open. Lungs heaved for a breath as she sputtered. Instincts caused her hand to ball into a fist and swing wildly toward the source of the water. Other arm remained limp at her side.

Pibs did not shut-up but did warble excitedly when it saw its owner actually stir with a fist toward Amon's jaw.

The girl had good instincts and aim even when coming out of a concussion.

 

[Zef Halo]

The fist connected well shaking his whole jaw and teeth. Where the hell she had all that strength from, he had no kriffing clue. Instinctively, Amon dragged her up by her shirt. If she's awake enough to punch him, she'd be awake enough to damn stand up.

"Up, woman." the Mandalorian barked. "Up, before the Sith kill us before your piloting does."

He was mildly irritated. Amon was used to being hit, obviously, but one thing he despised was sucker punches.

And she'd socked him good.

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"]