[The Resistance] One Hundred Eight Hours

[Kira Jax]

A cargo pilot? Had caught them all the way out here? She scratched her head underneath her flight cap. There may be a breach of security or two there, she didn't know, and at the moment, Kira didn't really care. They needed the fuel. Maybe she'd get a shot at the new supply before the other pilots guzzled it all up.

"Excuse my language here, Miss Vista, but yes, things are rather fethin' hectic at the moment." How long had it been since Kira had slept? A day? Two? It didn't matter. People were depending on her, now more than ever. If the pilots of Black Squadron couldn't depend on their captain, then why the hell was she even here? So no sleep, not for the foreseeable future.

The question was a tough one. How long had she been on shift? She scratched her head again, thinking. "Since Thyferra, I think. Four days, I think that makes it now. Time's a little weird when ya ain't had any sleep in awhile."

The Dantooinian sighed, scratching at her head, a nervous tic of hers. There still was no call. Force-damn it all, where were those TIEs?! The longer they went, the more and more this felt like a trap.

"Yeah, I was there. Not flyin', just a grease monkey. Ain't nowhere near the battle, too busy keepin' ships flyin'." Her face fell. "Ran out of pilots, so they stuck me in the air when we started retreatin'. Did it good enough, they made me Cap'n." She'd killed a lot of people the past four days. Seen a lot of her friends die, too. When this was all over, she was going to have to come to terms with that.

When she felt something being pressed into her hand, she glanced, and saw Black Two giving her a . . . was that a fresh cup of caff? Force knew she needed that. She nodded her thanks at her XO, and drained it, feeling it burn her mouth, but she drank it anyway. Kira needed it more than she knew, feeling new energy coursing through her.

She needed to keep working. She turned back to her plasmatorch, welding a new plate of metal onto some exposed wiring, the fresh steel stark against the blackened metal of most of the rest of her hull.

"Ya do this very often, Miss Vesta? Runnin' supplies to fleets fleein' the bad guys?"

[member="Auri Vesta"], [member="Angel"], [member="Chaff"], [member="Synthia Fellstarr"]

 

[Aster Jace]

"Darlin', I see why they call you Angel." Chaff remarked groggily, letting out a yawn as he took the cup of hot caf from [member="Angel"] gratefully. "Thank you." He added before she walked away, not wanting to forget his manners as he took his legs back into the cockpit an sat upright. Taking a cautious sip of the caffeinated beverage, he smiled as the heat rose up to his face while the warm liquid trickled down into him. By the fething force, it was some good caf, [member="Erendiz Kahn"] knew her stuff.

Taking another sip and letting the caffeine bring him back into the land of the living, he took a look around. Amid the battered starfighters and tired faces were the three women he'd been flying with for the last couple of days. [member="Kira Jax"] was speaking to someone who he knew even less than he did his squadron members, which was saying something. But [member="Auri Vesta"] wasn't wearing white duraplast armor or waving around a red lightsaber so she couldn't have been all that bad.

Meanwhile, [member="Synthia Fellstarr"] was doing what he probably should've been getting to at this point and disembarking from her fighter, and Angel was living up to her name by delivering Caf to the rest of them. Despite appearances suggesting he would be fine to exit the cockpit, Chaff couldn't shake the feeling they'd be getting ready to launch again before he even made his way to the final rung of the ladder.

This was what he'd wanted he supposed, to fight back against the Empires that wrought pain, destruction, and tyranny wherever they went, Chaff had just forgotten how damn tiring it all was.

 

[Aerion Ivelisse]

The Solemn Purpose
Training Room Aurek, Jedi Branch

The black combat boots he bore brought him to the training rooms. Inactive, is what he had been in the war against the Dark Side. Combating his own inner demons in private. Solitary missions, his X-Wing and astromech his only companions. Colonel Ivelisse of the Galactic Alliance Guard, since he had become a Knight of the New Jedi Order. It all seemed so long ago.

The title, or, rank meant little to him now.

Leading?

He had busted Sith terrorists on Coruscant, pirates and smugglers in Alliance Space, brought ends to attempts at jailbreaks. He had even gone as far as to shut down the company of a war criminal on territory the Alliance was in the midst of claiming.

There weren't as many people on a vessel of this size, not in the Jedi Wing anyway.

His boots echoed as he turned into a training room.

It would come to an end, he hoped. Him leading others.

Just... Fight.

The sound of a lightsabre deactivating is what the dark skinned Knight heard as he looked up, the light blue of his eyes glancing up from underneath his head of dreads to see [member="Callia Rodez"]. A friend, from a time that seemed as if it were another life. Another era. Where the Alliance was the superpower that broke the One Sith. He believed it could still do it, not just break the enemies of the Alliance, but shatter them into a million pieces until they went back to hiding in the shadows as they so enjoyed.

"It's much more effective with a partner," were his first words. They parted ways once, his own duties to the Guard, and her to the NJO. And yet, here they were again.

"Training, that is."

 

[Ohm-Lai]

[member="Avi Soltani"]
—————————

Kensic nodded as the comms tech assented to the message. She stood there, waiting, her foot jittering slightly on the deck as she waited. Was he really going to try and chat her up? Well, he wasn’t too bad looking. Didn’t look like a proper comms person though. But then, anyone could send messages, and at this point, that was about what they needed.

“Caff?” She asked, startled. Did she? She’d been flying too long to remember. “No, but I have some stims. Should work better.” She fished through her utility belt and laid a stim on the desk. “That’ll keep you going for twelve hours. Don’t take another dose until wel after that.”

Had she introduced herself? She didn’t think so. As an afterthought, she stuck out her hand.

“Captain Varais. Logistics.”

 

[Auri Vesta]

Auri was struck by the woman's account of the past few days. It was simple, matter-of-fact, yet hit her with a surprising amount of sympathy. Not everyone out here was trying to be some bloody warhero. That's the vibe she'd been expecting when she'd taken the job, but she was glad to see at least Kira was more grounded than that. She smiled sadly at the thought of all the people aboard the Solemn Purpose who'd been thrust into the same position as this woman. Backs to the wall, fighting for their lives. She didn't blame them for wanting to put up a fight, to take a little back after they'd lost everything.

She had never loved the Sith, but this really made her understand the hatred most people in the galaxy had for them. It wasn't like she was perfect, she'd killed before, though she liked to think those people deserved it. Hunting down this tired, straggling fleet of refugees for annihilation was something very different. By Auri's standards it was downright evil.

"Sounds like you've gone through a lot kid." In reality, the woman probably wasn't much younger than her, but the way she talked made her sound a bit green. Auri hoped she didn't offend her by calling her "kid", it was a habit of hers.

"Not often at all, actually." She told her as she followed her over to the wing where she was working on a patch job. "I mostly work cargo on the Rim." If the woman was familiar at all with spacer slang, she'd probably understand that her line of work tended toward the illegal.

"A friend of mine at Alliance Intelligence asked for my help though. They can't help directly yet but they're trying to do everything they can." She expected the words would sound hollow to a fighter jockey who'd been giving it her all for hours on end, but sometimes politics were illogical that way. She had appreciation for timing and tact, but these people's lives were on the kriffing line!

"I normally try not to get involved in stuff like this, to be completely honest. War is a dangerous game that I'd rather not play. Though I will say as far as causes go, this one doesn't seem half bad."

[member="Kira Jax"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

RNS SOLEMN PURPOSE​

Hangar Bay​

The additional time past the normal forty minutes was allowing additional units to be refueled.

This was bringing to light a new problem: The Solemn Purpose had finite fuel reserves. Launching, recovering, and then re-launching all of these starfighters had whittled away at those reserves with each new wave. Now, as the droid disconnected the fuel hose from under the wing of the T-90 X-Wing, the BB-4001X was aware that fuel levels available to the hangar bay were dropping to concerning levels.

If they did launch another round of starfighters, it was unlikely that they would have sufficient fuel to fully recycle all wings.

That was assuming that all wings reported back to the ship, of course. Attrition was a variable that might serve to extend the life of the present fuel storage, though arguably the pilots and starfighters were a more valuable commodity to the continued survival of the Solemn Purpose.

As the small droid came forward from underneath the wing, his ocular sensor keyed on an unknown variation to the design of this X-Wing.

It was not a mechanical deviation. Nor was it an alteration in functional configuration. Instead, it was a visual variation along the nose of the craft.

Now, perhaps if BB's protocol chip was functioning the small chore bot would be able to comprehend the purpose for such a non-standard decoration. Clearly, some organic had invested a good bit of time, talent, and detail into the design. But, all of that notwithstanding, what possible function did such a rendering serve? Given the speeds at which sublight travel occured, it was unlikely that anyone observing the T-90 in flight would be able to appreciate the figure. And given the distances involved, it was improbable that a hostile starfighter would register the artwork.

...so why had organics even bothered to put it there?

The cat-eared droid just continued on his way. He had already wasted entirely too many nanoseconds contemplating the irrelevant piece. Even with the protocol chip active, it was unlikely that his processors would be capable of understanding the faux logic with which organics undertook such non-productive actions.

 

[Erendiz Kahn]

"Right folks, I'm afraid that's your lot. Supplies are not what they use to be, y'know?"

Which was awkwardly true, unfortunately. The galley was on a shoe-string, and Dizzy was seriously considering resorting to alternative methods of resupply.

Ah, what the heck. No one every got anywhere by going the standard route in a newly formed military outfit, and the brass - whomever the brass actually were - could chew her out later if they thought it was a bad idea. People needed to eat, and eat well, in order to fight.

"Hey, we got any, uh... suppliers of less than legitimate goods in the crowd? Or you know, any pilots willing to do a supply run to somewhere risky? Free caff..." Not that there's a charge. "... to anyone who volunteers, plus my undying gratitude and the gratitude of your fellows. We might even be able to scrape together some credits, but this here is kinda a shoestring outfit, and I'm only the cook."

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"I'm holding. Not up, but I haven't fallen so that's good." She yawned, taking some steps away from the mechanic working on the AngelEye sensors for their Recon Force. The girls didn't need to be distracting him with tired but stunning good looks and chatter. "I don't know. I took some power naps in the cockpit before the Standby was called." Time actually spent in a bunk though? Probably pushing fifty hours for the redhead.

Everything was fuzzy, her Force senses dulled and dissipated for the time being. Her thought process was slow and skipped. Sometimes she would just trail off in a sentence and hang on the end of a word for a second while staring off into space before snapping back. Laira rolled her neck around, stretching out the muscles in her back and twisting at the waist. It was time for some rack, or at least time for some relaxing.

She walked towards the Pilot's area just off the active flight decks where fresh caf had just been handed out and cooks were trying to feed all the pilots and ground crew. She needed to return their empty pot she had taken to top off the mechanics' cups anyway. "Come on Sha." The cooks all looked about the same as the Pilots and Ground Crew, many of them volunteers from other branches of the military or people who just picked up a ladle and went at preparing food for the masses. It was good getting to see everyone come together in their time of need.

Upon hearing about the terribly low supplies, which didn't surprise the princess she resolved she needed something and was willing to break out the charm to get it. Making certain her hair was brushed out of her face and in place, the redhead batted her pretty grey eyes at the scarred woman manning the distribution. "Well, you wouldn't happen to have something for me would you?" She asked with sweetness and honey dripping from her voice, finger tracing little figure eights on the counter she was leaning over. "Because I would be so grateful if you could get me a grilled mac and cheese sandwich." She cocked what she believed to be a seductive grin after fifty hours without being in a bed, dropping her voice low so only the chef could hear it. "We could even share it, if you wanted to spend some time together."

[member="Erendiz Kahn"] [member="Shamira Karuto"]

 

[Jared Starchaser]

It wasn’t a far stretch to see how Jared Starchaser got here. He was a pilot who flew with the defunct Fel Empire, and worked for the Levantines after that. As his father began chasing the dark side around, in an effort to remove its infectious ability from the galaxy, even Jared started to understand a place in the galaxy. He wasn’t a Jedi, far from, but he was trained as an Imperial Knight once upon a time. He knew that he could look to someone for guidance in the Force, and that was what was defined as right. Yes, it made him very suspectible to following the dark side, should the wrong Knight-Commander be in place. But with the collapse of Fel? He was looking for new routes.

During the absence of the Starchasers, sans Kinsey, from the galaxy’s politics, Jared understood a bit more of what was needed of him. There was a concern of right and wrong, and that was on him to decide. Was he going to continue on with what he learned from his father. And he knew sometimes you could fight fire with fire. It wasn’t going to matter with him how he fought the dark side, and oppression, just that he could atone for past sins.

His clawcraft had landed in the Solemn Purpose and the fight pilot, stepping out in the orange jacket of a rebel pilot, with a gray painted TIE helmet, looked around. He was used to this life, always on the run. He had made his way out here, and offered help with the space patrol. The man was the child of a Jedi Sentinel with a Warden of the Sky complex. Jared was attempting to replicate that, but commanding the Dawn Treader meant he knew a bit about strike and fade operations. Starchaser was making his way into to the debriefing room. He wasn’t the one who expected orders, or insight.

But it was better than getting rack time right away. He looked back at the Clawcraft and nodded. Maybe he was going to need to not look so out of place. But so many places that design could go that an X-Wing couldn’t.

 

[Erendiz Kahn]

Dizzy had, in her time, had a lot of pickup lines from a lot of sentients. But this one had to rate up there among the most obvious and the most desperate. To be fair, she could relate to the pretty young - oh Force, so young, red head in front of her. She would kill for a decent burger right now, but they'd run out of synth-meat a few hours ago, and the reprocessors were still cooking up... well, you didn't want to know where it came from, lets call it the next batch.

I must be getting old. She mused. But apparently, I've still got something people want.

"Sure..." She purred by way of a sensual response, the actual effect entirely ruined by her features. "... for a pretty lady willing to spend time with me, I'll do whatever you like." She remembered not to wink the the cybernetic eye, this time. It tended to ruin the effect.

Behind her, two of the other staff groaned in unison, then one made a muted noise of pain as she stood on his foot. Gently. They needed that foot.

"One synth-cheese and... uh, I think this counts as mac..." She held up a box marked in an alien script she certainly couldn't read, it had come in with one of the alliance supply ships, before this all went... different. "And one thing we do have, is fresh bread! Jenny?"

The inexplicably nicknamed Rodian sub-cook looked up, made a noise somewhere between amusement and utter disgust at the state of the sentient galaxy, then set about preparing the requested food, which might at the end somewhat resemble the meal requested. Maybe, if you looked at it in the right light. The bread was indeed fresh: flour, water and the like are easy to store even on military ships. The rest... well, just don't look too close.

"So..." Dizzy turned back to [member="Laira Vereen"] "... what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this?" It was about the worst pickup line she could think of on the spur of the moment that might not cross the so far unwritten line.

[member="Laira Vereen"] [member="Shamira Karuto"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira watched the exchange between the cooks and servers with a smile, amused at their slight groans of relative annoyance and amusement. It might be the Resistance now and things might look grim, but there should always be time to make a little light of the situation. This was the chance right about now.

"Right now? You and that sandwich sweetheart." Laira purred back in response to the cook. She was scared yes, but Laira wasn't exactly one to judge on looks, but she also wasn't anywhere close to as promiscuous as she was making it seem. "And as soon as I've got some food in my tummy, I'm gonna find somewhere to pass out for as long as they let me." They referring to the officers, or the Sith that had been in pursuit of them all this time. Could go either way.

Laira adjusted herself, shifting to sit on the counter rather than lean over it. Partially to get off her feet to give them a rest, and partially because she was worried being all leaned over would cause her to fall asleep and collapse. "But more long term, someone's gotta do something about the Sith and all the rest. If its gonna be the Resistance then this is where I'm needed." Where I want to be she mused to herself. The Sith might have claimed a ton of lives and destroyed a lot of realestate, but just looking around the cruiser they hadn't crushed their spirits. If anything they'd only made them stronger and more determined.

"So, where do you wanna," her hand reached out with one finger, intending to lightly bop the cook's nose while turning back up the sultriness of her tone, "Spend that time together?"

[member="Erendiz Kahn"]

 

[Krenis Skirata]

"Colonel!" One of comms officers called. "Incoming transmission on Republic channels!"

"Play it!" Krenis answered as he stood from his seat and strode down to the console. The Republic had died years ago. Nobody should still be using them, but somebody was. He could hear it plain as day. The bridge crew slowed to a stop, all listening to the coded message. Most of them had been Republic long ago. They knew what it meant.

It was a rallying call, orders for a rendezvous. Hope surged in Krenis' mind as he listened to the looped message. But no, the Republic was dead, and rightly so. It had rotted from the inside, from corruption, from despair, and from treachery.

This was somebody else. Someone trying to recreate what the Republic had once aspired to.

"Search all channels!" He ordered, striding to the viewport. "Set fleet coordinates to that message." He turned and grinned at his crew. "The time has come."

Quite a while later....

A frigate and several support ships dropped out of hyperspace within hailing range of the cruiser.

"This is Commodore Krenis Skirata," he broadcast, "With the Republic ARC program. I here you were looking for supplies and men. We've got you covered. Give us formation orders."

"Confirmed, Commodore," the reply came, "Your codes are valid. Form up around the cruiser in escort formation."

 

[Erendiz Kahn]

It was... five years since someone had done that to Erendiz Kahn, she blinked in surprise, then rubbed her nose and grinned lightheartedly.

"Well flygirl, I've got a bunk big enough for two if you leave your astromech behind."

Dizzy was quite capable of delivering the line with perfect sincerity - replace the pronoun and it had even worked a few times, she might be serious, she might not. A soldier's life - particularly her life - hadn't given her much of a chance for serious, but she knew a flirt when she met one and you might as well play the game. It had lead many places, from a genuinely delightful evening on Alderaan spent precision sharpshooting to that one time on top of a capital-grade torpedo launcher when the captain had order a snapfire readiness test. She refused to giggle, she hated it when she giggled. She sounded like she was sixteen, not senior NCO going on fifty. The anti-aging treatments her family had sprung for in the Sun Guard all those years ago didn't help, at all. But she did smile - a more genuine smile than she might have otherwise intended. Not that the smile that went with the line had been false, it just didn't have the tinge of a good memory. The earth had certainly moved. Oops.

She leant forward to see if the pilot did have an astromech, impolite to leave them out. But one wasn't in evidence. She shrugged.

"But you'll just get crumbs all over it - so that pile of crates looks just fine for me, bit uncomfortable, but we can be quick." She nodded to a load of neatly stacked repair parts, which, lacking 'Warning: Explosive' signs on them, a significant section of the flight crew who unable to actually go 'off duty' had colonised like some bizarre species of nesting bird as a social area.

She stepped around the counter, tapping it and pointing at the Rodian. "Your break next." She said seriously, before turning her attention back to the ravishing redhead.

"And you're right, the galaxy is going right back down the pan again. I don't know who's fault that is, but I do know we can stop it."

To her surprise and credit, her left hand only shook a little, easily hidden by being shoved into a pocket.

[member="Laira Vereen"]

 

[Kaida Taldir]

[member="Laira Vereen"], [member="Shamira Karuto"], [member="Erendiz Kahn"]


There were a variety of reaction to the Bothan's 'kill 'em all, the Force will know its own' speech. Some had reacted with enthusiasm, others with grudging acceptance. Others again seemed to believe this represented a descent into madness and the heart of darkness. Kaida's reaction could be summed up as ice-cold stoicisim. Speeches did not win wars. Nor did debates about ethics. But then this wasn't her army. Hers lay half a galaxy away, run by worthless, corrupt aristos and political hacks that really deserved to be put up against the wall and shot.


The mess hall was cramped. Quite a few of the pilots, soldiers and crew who populatedit were taking naps or sought to stave off the inevitable collapse via stims and caf. Kaida moved on auto-pilot, walking with a slight limp. Fighting in a collapsing lab had not been great for her leg. Her armour clung to her like a second skin, though she'd taken off the helmet. The Eldorai helped herself to some caf. She felt like she could use it.

 

[Kira Jax]

She listened to the woman as she worked, securing the new panel of metal. Cargo on the rim? That had smuggling written all over it. Oh, well. Smugglers weren't on her list of things to disapprove of, and she supposed someone had to do it. Why not Miss Vesta? The woman had to earn money somehow, after all.

Alliance Intelligence, though? That made her frown as she began to re-attach some errant wires, that had come apart in the last run. All the electric stuff had to come together too, of course. Couldn't have that coming apart.

"So, the folks at the Alliance are keen to help?" She harumphed, connecting one wire to another with a brief shower of sparks. "I'm sure all of the dead pilots will be happy to hear the Alliance wants to help."

It made sense for a smuggler to stay the hell away from all of this. If she had the option, she would stay the hell away from all of this. Little late for that, now.

"Probably should've stayed away, ya ask me, Miss Vesta. I ain't expectin' many of us to make it out of here at all, let alone after this. Cause is a cause, but this is about survival, at the moment. I'll worry about causes after the TIE fighters stop killin' my friends."

She peeked away from her work.

"Keepin' people alive is the only cause I plan on tyin' myself too, Miss Vesta."

[member="Auri Vesta"], [member="Synthia Fellstarr"], [member="Chaff"], [member="Angel"]

 

[Yula Perl]

As he tapped away, Avi sensed her impatience in the back of his mind, mostly because of her fidgety foot. It wasn’t just her—everyone around here was on edge and exhausted. He’d had to break up two fights already in the canteen since their last jump. Hell, Avi was almost too tired to flirt. Almost.

He wasn’t exactly on his game after the sobering experience of watching a planet burn to the ground as innocents fled, but Avi was a people person.

“Thanks.” He picked up the neatly package syringe and inspected it. He elected to save it for later in the case that they’d get caught up again. “Will do.”

He took her hand with a tired smile and gave it a brief, firm shake. “Nice to meet you Captain. Aviel Soltani, call me Avi.” He finished typing the message, keeping one eye on the machine.

“How’d you get caught up in the Resistance, Cap?”

[member="Kensic Varais"]

 

[Synthia Fellstarr]

MUSIC​

​

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zp78kGMYTI8​

​

​

Synthia looked at the cup of caff [member="Angel"] had passed to her. She looked down at the murky brown liquid and frowned. Looking back up she shook the mug cynically. "You wouldn't by chance have any Corellian Whisky to spice this up huh?" Synthia didn't wait for a response and downed what she could before pushing off of the starfighter and pacing about the are. BB-k8 followed rolling up behind her legs. She spotted [member="Chaff"], another member of the Black Squadron peak around from the starfighter. But, Synthia walked all the way over to her knew squadron leader - a miss [member="Kira Jax"]. Out of all the Black Squadron flightmates, she was the one Synthia had no interaction with so far - besides a few flyby's and squad patrol runs.

Kira was busy talking to [member="Auri Vesta"] at the time and tinkering with a fighter. Synthia walked over to them both, but, it was Screech who announced her entrance. The BB-K8 droid beeped loudly as it rolled up to the legs of Kira. Sometimes Synthia wondered if he preferred her more. She wasn't surprised. Kira was a much more pleasant woman then herself. Synthia took another shot of caff and sauntered between the two Resistance fighters. Sythnia leaned over Kira's work space, peering into the same space of mechanical wiring she was.

"Looking for something commander?" Synthia snarked. "Maybe a portal out of here?"

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira smiled, keeping her tired features straight. "I'm not sure we've spent enough time together to share a bunk too intimately anyway." She said, at least establishing one boundary while still leaving the option open for the older woman. "But if its the closest one, I wouldn't mind snuggling." Not that Laira would be a very active snuggling partner right now. More or less she'd be practically dead asleep as soon as she laid down.

The redhead followed the cook to the crates, yawning and stretching as she walked alongside the scarred woman. "I'm Laira by the way," She said as she sat, cross-legged on the ammunition and supply crates strewn on the hangar floor. She was doing her best to be upright and perky after fifty hours without any sleep, and was managing okay in her less than humble opinion. The young princess grabbed her ankles and pulled them close to herself, using her arms to ensure she stayed propped up throughout her conversation with the cook. "I suppose I'm a flight officer or part of the Jedi remnants. I'm not really sure where I fit in right now," she however did giggle, more than accustomed to doing so when amused with herself, "But I'm really lucky to be here."

She noticed an Eldorai with pale blue skin walk onto the flight deck, which intrigued her quite a bit. She had dealings with the space elves through Firemane, offering her a wave as though to offer her to join the cook and the redhead in conversation while they waited on their food.

"I think I at least deserve a name and a little bit of backstory out of you." The redhead continued talking, not bothering to mention the scars or cybernetics. Her eyes didn't linger on them, she just beamed up at the cook with grey eyes shining, exhaustion lining her features. Such things didn't bother her despite her own vanity about her own appearance, her left arm was only very recently replaced with a cloned limb and for a while she had spent that time with just an ugly burn scarred stump.

[member="Erendiz Kahn"] [member="Shamira Karuto"]

 

[Ohm-Lai]

[member="Avi Soltani"]

"Pleasure, Avi," Kensic replied, watching as the message was sent out, tracing its response. She leaned forward. It had been received by multiple locations, which brought a smile to her face. Now to wait for a response. A new message came in and she jumped in excitement, but caught herself from making a sound. Reinforcements were inbound.

"Oh you know," she replied vaguely, waving her hand. "Here and there. Did some import/export business. Learned a thing or two about moving supplies. When the Sith hit Thyferra, I volunteered."

She shrugged. Not that big a deal. Intelligence hadn't decided on any protocols quite yet, but they had been cautioned against revealing themselves too quickly, if at all. She would resist that then.

"What about you?"

 

[Brooke Waters]

So, the Solemn Purpose was a vast ship. Sav was pretty excited to be here when she found out abuot it all. Thyferra was her homeworld and near and dear. She understood what the Alliance was here for but there were certain moves they couldn’t take, they ran worlds. For now she was just going to see where the Force took her. Starchaser understood that the military may not be the best, but for someone in the Resistance, learning some of the Jedi arts was useful. He told her to make it out here. One of his contacts would be able to help her.

Making sure that she was balanced in the Force and her schooling included a few things she might be able to use. What she was waiting on was just that, someone else who could teach her. What she was looking for was the Jensaarai. The fact that she was here and knowing a bit about the other Force users meant that she learning. And that was good, right?

Apparently Starchaser had learned as he went. It was a tricky thing for her to comprehend. She needed to do things by the book, at least to get it going. But when she heard her name, the blonde looked up and smiled. “That’d be me. Master Veino Garn, right? Friend of Master Starchaser?”

[member="Veino Garn"]