Private Wings Over The Jungle

[Devin Virell]

New Cov Jedi Temple
Katarine Ryiah

​

Devin still remembered the screams, the stench of death.. all of it followed him like a curse. He had been designated to aid in the transport of wounded Jedi from Kattada.

One week on New Cov, and the place still didn’t feel.. real.

Now, another perimeter sweep, another day without incident.

There was a magnetic pull toward the front lines, in ways he couldn't fully grasp. Maybe he was craving the adrenaline, the urgency, the clarity that only came with flying on pure instinct and praying that his personal starfighter would hold together while flying straight at death.

So the patrol had been quiet, the endless canopy rolling below, with an occasional shadow of something massive moving. Other than that, there were no sensor pings, no Imperial pilots to dance with.

The New Cov Temple was nothing like the other outposts Devin had flown from. On Odessen, there was always noise. Sure, the giant landing pad lay open to the sky, but beyond that it was like a giant wall, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped.. almost claustrophobic. Not to mention, he’d never been near so many Jedi in one spot.

But the landing pad became his own little world. A handful of starfighters were in formation, and nearby, a pair of transport shuttles rested.

He sat on the ground, leaning against one of the landing struts. The flight suit was half‑zipped, but then again, there wasn’t much regulation here. And certainly not as there’d been back on Corsucant, a planet that was always at the edges of his thoughts.

Though he could not fathom the ways of the Force, the datapad in his hands thrummed with a different kind of energy, carrying the secrets in his mind, the emotions of his heart, into a new journal entry.

After gazing out into the distant jungle, a place that forever whispered of danger, he finally began to thumb in a few lines.

The words came slowly.

Entry 43: Without the sky

I don’t know if I like the quiet or if it’s just making me soft. The dome keeps the jungle out, but it also keeps the sky out. I miss Odessen, the way the air tasted clean, the way the hangars opened. Out there, you can always see where you might run if things go bad. Here, it’s like seeing your own reflection in the glass. But maybe that’s the point, a place to make me sit still long enough and remember what I’m fighting for.

 

[Katarine Ryiah]

Location: New Cov
Objective: Find a Pilot
Tags: Devin Virell


The jungles of New Cov were alive with a chorus of unseen creatures, but the Jedi base itself was quiet. Too quiet. After the chaos of Coruscant, the silence felt less like peace and more like a weight pressing in from all sides. Waiting for the next move. Waiting for the next crisis.

Katarine Ryiah sat restless in the hangar, her mind replaying fragments of battle, starfighters bursting like sparks in the void, the cries of comrades cut short. She had survived, but the stillness now gnawed at her.

She rose, boots brushing against the durasteel deck, and made her way toward the sleek lines of the landing pad. Katarine hated flying and honestly she wasn't any good at it but the galaxy was quickly proving that was a skill she needed to master. She just needed a pilot who could put up with her as she learned the basics.

The first one she set her deep green eyes on seemed to be lost in thoughts, idly typing on a datapad. She approached slowly, not wanting to spook him while he was working.

"Excuse me... I'm looking for a good pilot."

 

[Devin Virell]

New Cov Jedi Temple
Katarine Ryiah

​

The jungle murmured in the distance. Devin barely registered it anymore. And the silence inside the temple grounds was louder. It did not soothe him as it might have soothed others..

It reminded him of the weight of his failures.

His datapad glowed faintly with words that were refusing to take shape. He typed three more lines, then erased two, and left the last one unfinished.

Now that broken fragment just stared back at him.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge, jaw tightening, until the sound of approaching footsteps registered. Right away he could tell it wasn’t the heavier stride of a mechanic, or another pilot.

Devin’s thumb froze, and his gaze lifted. A dry breath then escaped. Almost a laugh, but it carried no real amusement. “A good pilot,” he echoed, tilting the device slightly. “You might’ve picked the wrong hangar.”

The words lingered between them. One hand braced against the strut, and he rose to his full height. Ache should’ve registered, from too many hours in the cockpit, but it did not.

Dust clung to the sleeve of his flight suit; he brushed it away.. more ritual than anything else.

He’d been paired with more and more Jedi since joining the Path, and though he wasn’t really sure what to make of them, the assignments kept coming.

Shoulders relaxed, gaze steady, he huffed another quiet breath. Half familiarity, half resignation. “Guess that makes me the resident chauffeur.” His voice was dry, paired with a crooked half-smile, as if he’d given the same answer too many times recently. “I can fly, though. Where do you need to go?”