Private What the Water Gave Me

[Makai Dashiell]

EN ROUTE TO THE SLICE

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

Adrift in a warmth of sleep, Ellie tucked in against his shoulder, relaxed in a sea of tranquility against the hum of the H-Type Nubian Yacht, he was dead to the world. That was until the tranquility was broken by a small terror known as Phoebe Dashiell.

“Papa?” A whisper that tried to be hushed yet was anything but. “Papa are you sleeping?”

Waiting for no answer, Phoebe crawled onto the bed. Soon a My Little Ropo pajama-clad youngling was leaning over him, one little hand on his face as she braced herself. Nose crinkled in disgust and she continued talking the comically loud ‘whisper’.

“Papa you need to shave.” Little hand patted his cheek, continuing to speak. “Papa get up its time to go runnin’.”

Groaning a little, Makai worked on detangling his limbs from Ellie. Carefully, but given the hushed “whispers” their daughter was speaking in, it was only a matter of time until she woke. There was nothing more chatty than a child at five in the morning and Phoebe was no exception to that rule.

Makai held nothing but pride for his daughter. Phoebe favored him in looks. She was an early riser like himself. Equally chatty as he was as a child. She was taking to gravgolf and just learning the basics of surfing. Yet her personality stemmed from his wife .Smart as a whip and was learning Huttese already - hell,nearly mastered it in comparison to himself. She was, just like her mother, equally demanding and extremely stubborn.

He would be unable to give a simple ‘no’ and move on.

“Starlight, we’re on the Tranquility, right?” Makai could see the confident nod in the relative darkness. “That means we’re stuck in space. We can’t leave to go running. Not until we get where we are going.”

The half-Galan partially expected this. It was Phoebe’s first real long haul trip. Most of her life she had been tucked away on Joiol or taken on short jaunts to see himself or Ellie working on a nearby planet. Even visiting Empress Teta regularly was much shorter than cutting across the galaxy. The luxury vessel had two levels but was miniscule for a child who grew up spending her days running around an estate.

“Oh.” Phoebe seemed to consider this turn of events, still using his face to brace herself as she peered over across his body at her parents. “We can make breakfast and play My Little Ropo.”

“After breakfast you have your Huttese lessons.” Which wouldn’t take but thirty-minutes, the attention of a small child wasn’t long. “Right now, we’re going to sleep in and then make breakfast for Mama.”

Makai reached up and helped Phoebe navigate between them as he scooted over. Looking entirely too pleased to be included with her parents this early in the hour, Phoebe sat back against a pillow but kept talking.

“Papa, what’s sleep in?”

“Its where we all go back to sleep until later.”

“That’s not fun.”

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra stirred at the sound of Phoebe's insistent little voice, a sleepy hum slipping from her throat before her grey eyes even opened. The soft lighting of the cabin glowed faintly gold against the curved ceiling, and she blinked once, twice, only to find her daughter perched triumphantly between them like a tiny queen in her Ropo pajamas as she tried her lawyer her way into not having to sleep in with her father.

"Not fun?" Myra echoed quietly in a husky voice still warm with sleep. She propped herself on one elbow, reaching to brush a stray curl out of Phoebe's face, sleepy grey eyes settling on her daughter, "You mean to tell me that sleep isn't fun anymore? Stars, when did that happen?"

Phoebe grinned, all bright eyes and mischief. "When I woke up!"

Myra laughed softly in a quiet fond chuckle.

"Of course it did." She leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter's head, then shot Makai a sleepy, knowing look. "You've created a morning menace, love."

Phoebe gasped in mock offense. "I'm not a menace! I'm helpful! We're making breakfast for Mama."

Myra arched a brow pretending to think it over.

"Well, if you're that helpful… maybe Papa will teach you how to make blue milk pancakes."

That earned a delighted squeal and a flurry of tiny hands clapping. Myra chuckled again, settling back into the pillows and tugging the blanket around all three of them.

"But only," she murmured only to close her eyes again, "after we sleep in. Captain's orders."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

Blearily rubbing his face, Makai listened as Phoebe showed no signs of slowing down. She was awake and like any other child thrived on routine. He hadn't quite expected her to wake up so early, thinking the excitement of being on an adventure with the both of them would have worn her down a little. Apparently not.

"Oh, now I'm the one that created her?"

Amused tone was laced with sleep. It seemed when their daughter was being a tiny terrorist he was responsible, funny how his wife's tune changed during these moments. Yet their daughter seemed aghast she was called a menace - which also reminded him of a certain someone. Perched like the little princess she knew she was, Phoebe was all too excited at the prospect of helping him.

Phoebe, noticing her mother's eyes closed, stage-whispered to her father once again.

"When did Mama become a Captain? Mama is a mama."

ONE HOUR LATER

Despite a valiant effort, Makai was able to only hold their daughter off from a mutiny of sleeping in for an hour. Wanting his wife to sleep, he was now being drug down the corridor by an overly excited child. Sliding around in her footie pajamas, there was a buzz of excitement as they made their way to the galley.

"Boksa, Papa. Boksa!"

Now it seemed he was going too slow for her liking, her little voice ushering him on in Huttese. Not that he moved any quicker. Phoebe danced around him as they entered the galley, the lights flipping on. Immediately she worked on pushing her toddler tower towards the counter, eager to get started on these blue milk pancakes.

"See? I'm helpful." Phoebe went quiet as she navigated up her tower, popping up through the top and looking around. "Let's get started. Captain Mama is probably hungry."

Captain Mama. No way was he letting Ellie live that down.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell


The scent of warm air and faint caf drifted into the galley before Myra did. Barefoot, mahogany hair still tousled from sleep, she appeared at the doorway and leaned against the frame, taking in the scene before her.

Phoebe stood proudly at her toddler tower, spatula in hand like a commander at the helm, her Ropo pajamas already dusted with seasonings.

"Captain Mama!" she announced the moment she saw her, eyes bright and triumphant. "We're making Toads inna 'ole!!"

Myra pressed a hand to her mouth, trying and failing not to laugh.

"Are you now?" she said, stepping closer. "Who's the main chef?"

"Papa," Phoebe said instantly, pointing a tiny finger like an accusation. "But he's slow."

That earned another quiet laugh. Myra came up beside her daughter, brushing a smear of blue milk from the counter.

"Maybe a little bit slow, but he's a good first mate," she said gently, giving her a little kiss on the head before moving over towards Makai, giving him an amused grin.

"Morning," she told him, leaning over to give him a kiss on the lips as he flapped out a kitchen towel as if he were gonna use it.

"Oh no, don't even dare." Grey eyes leveled at him in mock threat, "You'll pay for it!"

"But you don't need to pay for it we are already makin' it!" Phoebe pipped in, blissfully unaware.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

“Slow?! You can't rush perfection or a good breakfast."

Not heeding the warning, Makai gave a small flick of the towel, barely hitting his wife on the thigh. A boyish grin followed. It was tradition at this point, started by a towel fight during their first Life Day celebrations together. Who was he to deny such a storied tradition. With the flick, he quickly changed the subject.

“Pheebs, I still pay for Captain Mama every day. Had to get a payment plan for the next fifty years.”

Pulling Ellie closer, lips meet hers in a kiss. Yet it was cut short by laughter at what their daughter said next.

“Fifty years?! You're going to be super old..will you even be able to move?”

Arm slipped around Ellie, giving her a gentle squeeze. He shot his wife a look, one that communicated the fact their daughter was far too smart for her own good. A result of hanging around mostly adults and beginning her educational lessons with their nanny droid. Yet it might also be a healthy dose of a budding personality. Makai was certain to pray for himself in ten years' time when Phoebe became a teenager.

"I'm sure we will be able to move just fine. Maybe just slower. Now, speaking of slow, less yapping and more flipping before we're eating burned toads."

Breaking away from Ellie to hold the handle of the pan as their daughter attempted to flip the food, Phoebe looked indignant at the words he just spoke.

"I'm not yapping Papa."

Maybe he needed to pray for his current self too.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra froze mid-laugh as the towel flick caught her thigh. Her eyes narrowed, that slow, dangerous kind of warning only a seasoned wife could give. She turned her head just enough for him to see the expression -- one brow arched, lips curving in the faintest smirk.

With one hand still steadying Phoebe on her tower, she pointed a finger straight at Makai and murmured low enough for only him to hear, "Careful there, Second Lieutenant. Don't tempt me into taking you to the brig."

Phoebe, oblivious to the silent exchange, gave another determined flip of the egg and bread mixture. It half-landed, half-folded over itself.

"See? Perfect!" she declared.

Myra chuckled, finally breaking her stare to lean down and kiss the top of her daughter's head.

"Perfectly folded," she said lightly. "A bold choice for our galley menu."

She glanced back toward her husband, enjoying the kiss and the wrap of his arms around her, grey eyes glinting in amusement.

"The Captain approves… for now," she murmured under her breath, just loud enough for him to catch.

Phoebe giggled at her parent's tone, unaware of the unspoken game between them. Myra took a sip from her cup of caf and then looked at Makai with interest.

"So what is on the menu after breakfast?" inquiring about their schedule."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"Careful Missus Dashiell, you're writing checks you can't cash"

Yet said Missus Dashiell was saved by the fact there was a new attempt a toads-in-a-hole. These toads were covered with the bread, less in the hole and more covered with dirt. Phoebe's little brows furrowed in concentration as she worked on flipping the others in the pan. Most were ending up flipped or twisted, such was a hazard with children cooking.

"Great job Starlight. Soon you'll be cooking for me and Captain Mama all the time. I knew having a kid would pay off."

Amusement danced in iced blue eyes as he looked back at Ellie. He placed another kiss on her temple as the Captain gave her approval and inquired about their schedule for the day. Much of it was going to be stopping and looking around, which made him question if bringing Phoebe was the right call. Yet with the dangers in the Core, he didn't want to leave her back with Lia and one his parents. Plus he felt it was a great time to start letting Phoebe get an idea of what went on in the family business.

"Probably shave, since I was called out on that this morning." At that Phoebe shot him a look before he continued. "Someone has their Huttese lesson. After that we're approaching one of our first forks in the road. So we will be needed in the cockpit by Thirty-Three will need our input."

Yet something gave him pause, figuring he shouldn't make plans without seeing what Ellie was going to be up to. Just because he drug her along didn't mean MaraTibX stopped.

"Did you have plans for the day?"

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell


"You so sure about that?" Myra shot back with a wicked grin, "I'm the Arcneau Heiress... I got plenty of credits for those checks." She flashed him a wink. Then she helped Pheobe flip another toad-in-a-hole and glanced up with a silly grin.

"Plans?" she echoed, pretending to think as she brushed her hands off on a towel. "Aside from rescuing the galley from impending chaos?"

Phoebe gasped, indignant. "It's not chaos, Mama, it's breakfast!"

Myra smiled leaning down to plant a kiss on her daughter's hair. "Of course it is, Starlight. A five star masterpiece."

Straightening she turned back to her husband with a teasing glint in her grey eyes.

"I was going to check in with MaraTibX later, maybe finalize the shipment logs before we reach the fork. But if Thirty-Seven needs both of us in the cockpit, I'll push it to this evening."

Her gaze softened as she looked between him and Phoebe, both with matching traces of flour and mischief.

"Besides," she added, picking up one of the half-folded toads in a hole and giving it a dramatic sniff, "I'd hate to miss such a critical stage in our culinary training program."

Phoebe giggled, puffing her chest proudly. "See, Papa? Captain Mama likes it!"

Myra grinned, sliding the plate closer to the little girl. "Captain Mama loves it. Now eat up before your First Mate tries to shave again and accidentally trims an eyebrow."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"Excellent. I have an idea to run by you during n-a-p t-i-m-e."

"Big girls don't take naps Papa."

Right, Phoebe had inherited Ellie's intelligence, not his. Considering they had spelled out 'nap' before and then put her down, the young girl was quick to associate one with the other. Still, he was impressed. Makai wasn't certain he would have made the same correlation at that age. He was certain he also wasn't being tutored yet at that age, Phoebe was.

"You say that now." He moved to lift her out of the toddler tower, kissing Phoebe on the cheek as she gave a little squeal of excitement. Eagerly she all but ran to her spot at the table.

"Mi chuuuugaaaa!"

Chuckling, he got to work distributing the culinary masterpieces made by the soon to be infamous Phoebe.

HOURS LATER

He was incredibly lucky that reaching the 'fork' in their journey also concluded with nap time. Trying to make a decision based on data and gut feeling was always difficult. Let alone having a demanding and opinionated daughter who, naturally, wanted his attention even in moments of business.

Thirty-Seven had called him into the cockpit, starcharts dancing mid air as the debating now begun. Silence as he thought, waiting for Ellie. Her opinion was invaluable, and beyond that, he hadn't told her his idea yet. Or ideas. One more pressing than the other. With a bit of peace while Phoebe napped, maybe they could hash out their next steps.

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

The faint scent of roasted caf drifted into the cockpit before Myra did. She stepped through the doorway, her third cup of the day in hand, hair still slightly tousled from the earlier chaos of pancake duty. The hum of the ship and the glow of the starcharts painted the room in soft blue light.

"Still working while the Captain to be sleeps?" she teased in reference to Phoebe, her voice a quick chuckle as she crossed to him as she also said, "Hey Thirty Seven."

[ Mistress, a third cup of caf a day is not good for your health. ] he replied

"I think I can handle it just fine," she shot back as she leaned down to pressed a slow kiss to Makai's cheek, letting the touch linger before brushing her thumb just beneath the spot. Her free hand slipped into his hair, fingers combing through the messy strands in a lazy, affectionate cafune.

"You know," she murmured, "you're supposed to rest during n-a-p t-i-m-e too, Mister Dashiell."

The corner of her mouth tugged upward as she straightened, taking a sip of caf and peering over his shoulder at the hovering starcharts.

"Alright," she said, tilting her head to get a better view, "what did you want to show me? And please tell me it's not another one of Phoebe's culinary masterpieces."

Her tone was light, teasing, but her gaze softened when it met his.

"You said you had ideas," she added, fingers still playing absently with his hair. "So let's hear them, before our resident Captain to be wakes up and starts issuing new orders."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"Yes, still hard at work." Head tilted into her touch, chuckling a little. "Our tiny terrorist demands we play makeup makeover when she wakes up. I'm trying to finish before then. I can always take my own nap too while I get my eyeshadow applied."

Iced blue eyes closed briefly as her hand ran through his hair again. Definitely one of his favorite ways that Ellie showed her affection but it also had a soothing, calming affect. Something that was needed given the next bit of subject. Something that had been playing in the back of his mind for months, unspoken until now.

Eyes opened again and he offered a small smile before starting, taking a deep breath.

"I've been thinking for awhile...a long while...that we need to leave Joiol and the Core area. Obviously keep the property but find somewhere much quieter to live. To headquarter the business. " Makai paused to search her expression before continuing. "I see the Galactic Alliance as a collapsing superpower. We are too close to the power grab for my liking. Yes Joiol is an insignificant agriworld but that won't keep a government from knocking on our door."

Neither he nor his wife were loyal to any government. Yet he knew for a fact they both couldn't ignore the realities of governments fighting over bits of space. Especially when opportunity lay in the Core to be claimed.

"It's a good time for us to do so personally. From what it looks like Persephone will be headed to Agamar for university. Phoebe is older and we don't have a newborn to uproot."

[ Speaking of, may I remind you Sir that three or more heirs is required for business growth, as is proven by multiple studies. You have not been on a stim in a handful of months. ] Thirty-Seven paused to regard the couple. If a droid could look judgmental, Thirty-Seven certainly did in this moment. [ Perhaps it is time to take away the Gravball Network away again. Wine too. ]

Makai blinked once, staring at the droid for a long moment. Thirty-Seven had made it his business since Maramere to push for any one goal the droid saw fit. So far he hadn't been wrong. Not that Makai was going to say that.

"Which is why we're on this trip Thirty-Seven." Turning back to his wife, he continued. "I don't want to have to worry about evacuating. Or leaving for work and wondering if the kids will be okay. Or if you'll be okay....which I know you would be because you're a way better shot and fighter than myself."

He gave a small pause.

"Additionally...it would be nice to build something for the business with more of our stamp on it. You ever went to Vanir, the planet your father built? He invited me while we were apart, ever since then something similar has been on my goal list. It just....it just feels like the right time for us. In my opinion. But its not all about what I want. I need your input. If this a good idea. If its something you do or don't want to do. Either way this trip won't be wasted. Your response just dictates which fork we're going to take on the Slice so to speak."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra smiled faintly at the mention of makeup and eyeshadow leaning in just enough to press another soft kiss to the side of his head.

"Oh, I don't know," she murmured, as her tone twisted to a wry teasing one, "I think pink glitter would bring out those eyes of yours beautifully. Besides, here I thought you'd be ecstatic talking to Phoebe about the minerals in the makeup."

The pads of her fingers drifted lazily through his hair again, curling lightly at the ends as he spoke. The gentle hum of the ship, the dim light of the starcharts, the closeness of him, it all carried a quiet comfort. But the moment he started to speak of Joiol, of the Core, that comfort shifted into something heavier.

She set her caf down slowly, the warmth of the cup replaced by a tightening in her chest. Leaving Joiol. The words rolled over her in silence. It wasn't unexpected; she had seen the signs too, but hearing them spoken aloud gave the thought weight she wasn't ready to accept.

"I see what you mean," she said finally, her tone softer now as the teasing edge faded into something more serious.

"The Alliance, the instability, you're right. It's all too close, too uncertain." The pad of her thumb brushed absently along his temple as she spoke. "And I know Joiol's small, but it was home. We were building a life there, Makai."

She took a quiet breath and gave a sigh but then followed it with a nod.

"But you're right about one thing. We can't gamble with safety. Not with Phoebe. Not with Persephone on her way to Agamar. The galaxy's shifting again, and we've both seen how fast that can turn dangerous."

At Thirty-Seven's interjection, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"Thank you for your input, Thirty-Seven. We'll be sure to consult your statistical expertise when I allow more heirs onto my schedule." Her tone was dry, but it softened as she looked back to Makai.

"I like the thought of something new," she said at last. "Something that's ours. A home we build together, not just inherited or bought into." Her hand slid down from his hair to rest against his shoulder, a gentle squeeze grounding the moment.

"If it feels right to you, then I'm with you. Wherever we end up."

Grey eyes shined into oceanic blue.

"So any ideas?"

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"Yes, we were building a life there and this situation isn't ideal. Obviously we will keep the Estate - I mean I can't kick Balun out of his cottage and real estate holdings are always a sound investment. Long term....I just don't know. Something feels off to me and I'm more than concerned. I know our safe house on Gallinore isn't the answer."

The quiet seemed to stretch in the cockpit, a heaviness settling. Such thoughts had sat with him for some time now, months. Yet with a business and caring for Phoebe such a discussion had taken a backseat. With the Artesia battle that had changed. All reports he had received across his desk indicated this was the beginning of something bigger. Makai didn't think the Alliance could sustain such efforts - even their Senate seemed absent on most issues.

Which spurred him into action. Into this trip.

"Thirty-Seven if you cut off that channel during the Galactic Series I will dismantle you myself."

Rue would most likely help. The pair had been staying up late, sending messages and stats. The other night he had definitely pushed it given their trip and the time zone issue, but it had been worth it. The series was only once a year and sacrificing a bit of sleep was always worth it.

[ There are no need for hostilities Sir, Mistress. ]

Ignoring Thirty-Seven, Makai turned back to his. Ellie was on board, which was a relief. Had she said something different he would stop all plans he had swirling in his head. They were a partnership. Equals. Both had to be on board or neither of them would be. As events transpired he saw why his mother-in-law often kept Rue at the Farm. Things turned too quickly, what once was safe no longer. Phoebe was their top priority.

"I do have ideas, come sit..." On his lap but there was only so much space on the cockpit. Luxury vessels were for the passengers, not the crew. "...Thirty-Seven flip to a quadrant view."

The starchart shifted to a more closed-in view of the Slice.

"I was thinking what might be best for us is a section at the top of the Slice by the Vermillian Drift hyperlanes. Somewhere maybe between the Kessel Sector and the Ferra Sector. I have a few leads on systems....or the backend of the Vermillian Drift closer to Wild Space past the Shadola Sector. I am personally thinking option one for logistics...."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra laughed then leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Balun's cottage is safe... and honesty after the last ex, I think he deserves time by himself," she teased, sliding easily onto his knee despite the cramped cockpit. Her hand threaded through his hair, the finger pads of her fingers gently massaging over his scalp as she peered up at the starchart shifting beneath Thirty-Seven's prompt.

"Alright," she said, her tone shifting from playful to thoughtful as she leaned in, caf still in one hand.

"Between Kessel and Ferra… that's good placement. Trade routes, travel lines, the right amount of civilization without feeling like the Core's breathing down our necks. You're right, it makes sense."

Her thumb traced a lazy circle on his shoulder as she studied the quadrant.

"Still, I like the idea of the Drift's edge. A little quieter, a little harder for anyone to come knocking. Maybe we don't pick just one. We could set up primary operations near Vermillian Drift, and a secondary fallback closer to Wild Space."

She smiled, soft but certain, and shot him a sidelong look.

"That way, when Thirty-Seven finally decides to rebel against your channel-watching habits, we've got somewhere safe to run."

The droid whirred almost affronted.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

Arm slipped around her back, placing a kiss on her temple as she talked of two locations. Both of which she wanted to develop. He was quiet for a long time while Thirty-Seven remained offended at her joking little jab. The scale of the project was large. Massive. Yet not overwhelming. In a way it was exciting to think about, energizing.

"This is a massive undertaking but you know what? You're right. Shifting from the family to the business....how long have we mentioned about wanting to put out own stamp on things? To separate ourselves from our parents in the business field? The Slice gives us that opportunity...its a wide swath in a quiet portion of the galaxy....everything we do cements our leadership in the future."

It would be some time before either of their parents retire. His father and her mother were equal workaholics. It didn't bother Makai, he appreciated the help and appreciated the fact it let him be more present for Phoebe and Ellie.

"There's a hypergate on Malagarr - I think we should focus around there for one portion...the second....somewhere past the Shadola Sector if not the Shadola Sector itself. Additionally,now that I think of it? Once we decide on two points we can commission a limited hyperlane between the points. Easier to move us and the business. Especially since this is a resource rich area."

Eyes left the starchart and regarded her.

"It will also make it faster for us to get between these two locations since we will be splitting our time. More opportunity with Phoebe and each other. Just promise me we won't live on a desert planet? I'm a tropical fish."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x | Tag: Makai Dashiell

Myra laughed softly, leaning a little closer into his arm.

"A tropical fish, hmm?" she teased, grey eyes glinting as she tilted her head toward him. "Don't worry, love, I've no plans to turn us into sand dwellers. You'd dry out before the day's end."

She let her hand sail over his chest before tapping the glowing starchart.

"Malagarr's a solid start. The hypergate gives us reach, and near the Drift, we could tap into the corridor before it bottlenecks. It's ambitious, but the right kind."

She took a slow sip of caf as a smile tugged at her lips when Thirty-Seven gave a faint huff.

"Thirty-Seven, log this and transfer it to El-Three," she said in a tone full of playful authority. "Master and Mistress Dashiell are plotting galactic expansion. No rebellion necessary."

The droid's offended huff only made her grin.

"See? He's thrilled."

Turning back to Makai, her smile softened as she continued.

"You're right. We've been following in our familie's shadows long enough. It's time to build something that's ours." Her thumb traced along his jaw, brushing the faint stubble there. "If it means more time together and fewer warzones, I'm all in."

Then with a sly smile she added, "But I'm vetoing any planet that needs sunscreen strong enough to melt paint. I want beaches and a vineyard, not heatstroke."

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

"Excellent. Thirty-Seven, while you're having a droid version of a stroke, chart a course for the three sectors surrounding Malagarr. There's the star systems we spoke of, focus on that under charted one first. We will go there, look around and decide our next steps once we arrive."

A good enough plan for the moment. He had spent the last month researching undercharted systems in the Slice. Planning his next steps. There was so much out there and a lot was easily overlooked. Makai was counting on the simple fact there just wasn't much interest in the Slice and there would be something out there to develop.

[ I am not having a stroke Sir. ]

"Good, you should be able to transmit to El-Three and also chart our course for the system we discussed near Malagarr."

[ I am capable of more than one thing at a time. ]

"Excellent."

Hand gently rubbed her back, fingers trailing on the back of her shoulder blade as there was talk of wanting a planet without sunscreen. Even he didn't want to melt - just no desert planets. Tatooine was the only one he braved on a semi-regularly basis and that was only because one Danger Arceneau was often found there.

"Right, nothing to melt our faces off. Didn't plan on it....and yes, much like Joiol beaches are a must. I've gotten used to our own vineyard. Its been nice to live on an estate. Something like the Farm in a way has been an ideal way for Phoebe to grow up in my opinion. Room to run around and be the little terrorist she is."

Gaze softened and he leaned in to place a small kiss on her lips.

"Thanks for thinking I'm not crazy."