Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 Scar Tissue, Ash Star Crew
USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor in a narrow back alley way. Everything hurt. She could barely remember life before the pain.

Without the Force, Ubik wouldn’t have been alive, she was sure of that. The only thing about her that wasn’t battered was the clothes she wore, stolen from where they’d been drying. They were damp, ill-fitting and coarse. On the plus side, the clothes were only damp with water and by the smell of it, cheap detergent and maybe some kind of juice. It was better than her own clothes, which were soaked with blood, most of which was hers.

Now, she needed… “Mom.” She smacked a hand against the side of her head, shocking herself back into the moment. No, no. Her mother was gone. She needed… she couldn’t concentrate. She wasn’t used to being alone. She’d always had someone to tell her what to do. For the first time, she was on her own, left to her own devices.

Think. Think. Okay, she could do this. Step one was easy. She needed to put space between herself and Michaud. If he realised she was alive, he wasn’t going to want her to stay that way. He was going to send everyone he could for her. She wasn’t ready for that. She was too weak, too injured. She needed to get off-planet. She hauled herself to her feet and leaned against a wall. She had to find a dock. She could work out how to deal with the fact that she had no credits when she got there. She’d find a way.

A ship roared overhead and Ubik looked up. How had she got to the dock? When had she? Her memory was unclear. There were blank periods, periods when she might have blacked out. It didn’t matter. She was there. All she needed was to find passage on a ship, get a bunk, lie down, rest. Nearby, crew were loading cargo onto a YV-929 armed freighter. She knew the ship type. Her mother’s company… what had been her mother’s company had owned a couple of them for particularly dangerous routes. She crossed the platform and approached a Trandoshan. “Speak to captain?” She blinked. She needed to do better, to talk properly. “Can I speak to your captain?” He just laughed. Her camouflage, her normal, demure appearance was a weapon in her arsenal, but apparently, it was working against her. She caught the Trandoshan’s eyes in an unblinking stare. “You will take me to your captain.” She focused. She kept her voice low, calm and even. He laughed and shoved her backwards. She fell to the floor. With a snarl, she reached for the weapon secreted in her jacket, the one thing she’d managed to hold onto, the only thing she needed to hold onto. She stopped short. She couldn’t afford to pick fights. That wasn’t who she was now.

Ubik rose to her feet with laughter in her ears. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands to distract herself as she looked for another ship. Another ship caught her eye, a Suwantek freighter unless she was very much mistaken. She smiled as she crossed the platform: she had a good feeling about this one. A woman, maybe ten years or so her senior sat on one of the loading ramps, with a drink that smelled like it was almost as certainly toxic as it was alcoholic. With her best sweet smile, Ubik approached the woman. “Might I speak with your captain?”

USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
As days went, it hadn’t been a bad one. The Ash Star had delivered some important supplies for the Alliance and managed to find some work heading back out. It wasn’t strictly legitimate, but then again, it wasn’t like that had ever stopped Quill before. As long as no one got hurt, or shipped anywhere against their will, it was all good. Now all she had to do was wait for the cargo to show up. That had left her with plenty of time to pop into town and pick up some sort of local pie and some booze that tasted like it had been distilled in a ship’s engine room. It kicked like a tauntaun though and was strong enough to survive being mixed enough to save the flavour without making it too weak.

Seated with her pie and ‘cocktail’, Quill watched as some local kid approached the crew of another ship. The Dream of Alderaan: a pretty name for a ship run by a crew that the kid would have been well-advised to keep away from. With a frown, she put her pie down and started to rise to her feet. Before she could intervene, the kid had been shoved over. Quill grimaced and shrugged. Unfortunate, but if the Dream’s crew were happy to leave it there, she wasn’t going to worry about it too much. Plus she had pie to worry about. She was about to pick her pie back up when she realised that the kid was heading her way.

Quill returned the kid’s smile. “Might be you already are. I mean, I am my captain.” She grimaced. Almost all of those words could have been better. She reached down to gather up her pie. “You looking for passage?”

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik fought to keep an approximation of a good-humoured smile on her face. The woman had a strange way with words. More accurately, it seemed like the words were getting away from her. Ubik clapped her hands together. “Passage. Yes. Please.” She glanced over her shoulder, as though looking for signs of a pursuer. “Please.” She swallowed, forcing her voice to catch in her throat, as though it was hard to keep up the façade of pleasantry. “There are people who want to hurt me. I need to get off this planet. As soon as possible.”

She stopped short of trying to use the Force to influence the captain. It hadn’t worked well, so far. “I don’t have much money,” she said. She dug deep, focused on the memory of her mother and her fear of the very real fact that if she didn’t get off world, she would be in real danger. She held onto that fear tightly, cherishing and nurturing it, trying not to let it blossom into anger and the desire to fight back. That way of thinking wouldn’t help her. A tear rolled down her cheek, and another. “I don’t have any money, but I can work.”

USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
Well, that smile had faded quickly. Wow. In a moment, Quill was on her feet. She wasn’t great with other people’s emotions. Empathy wasn’t high on the list of skills she’d been taught at the Imperial Academy. What she did know was that she was faced with a kid, crying. She wasn’t a charity and maybe it wasn’t her problem, but she wasn’t cold enough to ignore it. The kid was a mess: bruised, wearing wet, ill-fitting clothes. She stopped short of asking what the kid do on the ship. She didn’t look like much of a fighter, pilot, mechanic, doctor, negotiator or anything else she could use. That wasn’t important. What was important was helping. That and the fact that the kid looked about as menacing as a protocol droid. Maybe bringing the kid on board might cost her, but she didn’t see it hurting. “Pie?” She held her plate out without thinking. Okay, it was possible that her second instinct was just as bad as the first. “No, probably not.”

Juggling her load so that her drink was resting on her plate, she reached for the kid’s shoulder but stopped short. “Let’s get you inside, yeah?” She caught the kid’s eye and gave her a reassuring nod. “Tell me your name, what’s going on and we’ll sort something out, yeah?”

Across the platform, the Trandoshan barked something in Dosh to his crewmate and the pair laughed. Quill didn’t know enough of the language to know what they were saying, but she had little doubt that it was an insult to her. “Jetar madle!” It was the only Dosh she knew and she was pretty sure it was an insult. Then she gave them a hand gesture that was understandable in any language, before leading the kid up into the ship.

“I’m Aquilla Farron. My friends call me Quill, hopefully we’ll be friends, yeah? This ship is The Ash Star. We do freight and sometimes passengers like you.” She led the kid to an empty cabin. “You weight in here. I’ll get you some dry clothes, yeah? Bit taller than you, but I’ll be able to sort something out.”

Quill made her way to her own cabin and frowned as she realised the kid had followed her. Well, she did seem needy. She forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s nicer than yours, but being captain has to have some privileges, right?” She didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but she opened it up, letting the kid pick some clothes out for herself. “Right. I’m going to let you get changed in here. I’ll wait in the lounge. Down the corridor to the right. You come find me when you’re ready, yeah?” Gathering up her pie and drink, she headed down the corridor to the ship’s lounge. She seated herself at a table with her pie in front of her. She didn’t know what Saryn would make of all of this. She was the captain though. The decision was hers.

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik’s stomach grumbled at the offer of pie that was so quickly snatched away again. She didn’t know when she’d last eaten. More important than that, though, the woman invited her into the ship. Defensively, Ubik wrapped her arms around herself as she followed the woman up the ramp and into the ship. It was hardly what she was used to. Michaud’s ship had been a demonstration in extravagance. This barely looked like it was held together and she fought to keep a sneer from her face.

“Quill,” she echoed. She blinked at the sight of her cabin. Now that was more familiar. Michaud had left her quarters on his ship more spartan: to hone her warrior spirit so he’d said. Quill told her to wait, but she followed silently behind her, like a lost child. The captain’s cabin wasn’t much better. Maybe a little larger, but most of that space was lost to cheap, tasteless decoration fighting to brighten the place up. From the look of the ship, it had taken a real beating at some point. She picked out some clothes from the captain’s collection and looked to the older woman for approval. The captain seemed happy enough to depart and leave her to get changed. “Ubik,” she said softly. “My name’s Ubik.” Once the captain had gone, she shed her stolen clothes and pulled the captain’s clothes on. They weren’t a great fit, but they’d do. She tossed her stolen clothes into ‘her’ cabin before following the captain to the lounge.

Ubik didn’t take a seat, she just stood by the table, head down, looking at the pie, then quickly glancing away. So sorry, lady captain, little meek me didn’t me to stare at your food. She raised her eyes towards the pie again, then glanced away.

USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
Quill greeted Ubik with a playful grin and narrowed her eyes at the sight of her. “Well, look at you, you look the part now, like a proper little outlaw.” It wasn’t even remotely true. The clothes didn’t suit the girl at all. They were all rough and dark and she looked so soft. It was like seeing an Ewok in Stormtrooper armour. Hopefully, the girl would take it as encouragement.

“Sit down already.” From the way that the girl kept looking at her pie, it seemed like maybe her second instinct hadn’t been quite as far off as she’d thought. She made sure to retrieve her drink before sliding the plate across the table. “Help yourself. Way more than I could eat there, anyway.” As anyone who knew her would know, that meant that there was exactly enough for her to have some now, maybe give only the most modest amount to Saryn if he played his cards right and save the rest for another time.

She reached across the table for Ubik’s hand. “I need you to tell me what you’re running from, sweetheart. I can do this stuff on a no information, no questions basis, but it costs and I don’t think you can afford it, so I need to know what trouble I might be getting my crew into. And look at it this way, the more I know about what the danger is, the better I can help you.”

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik supressed a satisfied smirk at Quill’s appraisal of her outfit. It might have seemed like a breach of the camouflage. Quill had had softer clothes to choose, but she’d played the part of a scared kid trying to look tough and it seemed like it had worked. Quill told her to sit and she replied with a quick “Sorry.” and reached again for the memory of her mother, forcing her voice to break a little, because she was weak and a little frightened of the obvious smuggler. The obvious smuggler who apparently had no idea that Ubik could kill her before she could even get her fingers on a blaster.

She sat quickly, still looking wide eyed and startled. Slowly, cautiously, as if she was afraid that the offer would be rescinded, she reached across the table to pull the pie towards her. She eschewed the frankly rather large spoon that Quill had been using, in favour of taking large handfuls from the pie, wolfing down pastry and fruit. She gagged and coughed slightly, but it was the first thing she’d eaten in far too long for her to do anything other than push on. She flinched away from Quill’s

Questions. She’d been asked things, hadn’t she? Right. “Rich guy. Killed my parents.” She didn’t know for sure that her dad was dead. He probably didn’t need to die. He was an ineffectual man. Was that true? She engaged a largely dormant, inquisitive part of her mind, taking the time to compare what Michaud had taught her with what she could verify. His version of her mother bore virtually no resemblance to the truth. Her father was exactly what he said though. “Wants to kill me, make sure he keeps my mom’s company.”

USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
Eyes wide, Quill watched as Ubik devoured her pie. For a scrawny little thing, Ubik could really put food away. She was probably going to have to resign herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get any pie back at all. That thing had been good, as well. There was something about Ubik that was strangely familiar, a fragility, like… like Rhysa, of course. It had been a while since she’d thought about her ‘sister.’ She supposed that she was about due for that. In so many ways, the two young women were completely different. Even without the mention of her mother’s business suggesting money, Quill had the impression that Ubik came from a wealthy family, whereas Rhysa hadn’t even known her family. She’d have been surprised to see Rhysa eat like that, too.

“Hey, hey. Slow down, kid. You’ll make yourself sick.” She reached for the pie to try to move it out of Ubik’s reach a little, to force her to slow down. “If this guy’s after you, couldn’t you just try going to the authorities, maybe?” It didn’t sound like Ubik’s problems were anything she couldn’t help with. She just wasn’t sure if there weren’t better ways of dealing with it.

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik wrapped her arm around the plate, holding it close to her. She glanced across the table, wondering if there was any chance that she could grab Quill’s drink. Probably not worth it. She was sure she could try to force it, but that wouldn’t help her situation. She recoiled and barely managed to keep a look of anger off her face. “Are you joking right now?” She sought her mother’s memory and her lip trembled. “He has money. My best case scenario has me surviving maybe an hour once I get to speak to anyone because they’re reporting to him and he wants me delivered so he can kill me himself.” She recoiled in on herself in a display of fear. It wasn’t strictly true. Michaud knew what she could do. There was no way that he wanted to see her face to face. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist at heart and it didn’t seem like there was much need to say anything else so she just sat and ate under the captain’s watchful eye.
USER ID-48 Saryn Kre'tel 38 I The Ash Star
Merchant/Jedi
Force Sensitive: Yes
Magikarp
"I´ve finally realised, that long after laughter dies, I can't undo the things I've done. Oh, what things I´ve done..."quote
sheet
topics
ooc
send
It was surprise that roused Saryn to action; a shock of the senses so sudden and precise that it rocked the former Jedi back to the days of the Republic, back to his youth. Someone, something had entered the ship, and like the silken tendrils of a spider's web, its presence sent shockwaves through the confines of the Ash Star, through the currents of the Force, that the Bothan simply could not miss.

Another Jedi.

Not even the clatter of plasteel to the durasteel decking, his datapad dropped and sent bouncing against the floor, could have roused Saryn's senses from the startling revelation. No, it couldn't have been; the Jedi were dead. Two decades since the fall of the Republic and there had been not one resurgent sign of the light of the Force in the dark, not a single figure that Saryn had managed to discern.

Rumours of men like Skywalker had made the rounds, of course, but Saryn had hardly believed them; propaganda from the Rebellion and nothing more, for where there had been a Jedi by the name of Skywalker, he had no progeny, no offspring to carry the name on. Jedi had been forbidden such things; Skywalker was no exception.

And Darth Vader, the ebon spectre of death itself, had claimed of the Jedi what the brutality of the Clone Wars hadn't. Of that, Saryn had been assured; the sheer hollow emptiness in two decades of silence from the guardians of the Force had been all the confirmation he'd needed.

The Jedi were dead, and yet, a being graced by the voice of the Force had strolled aboard the Ash Star. And no mere sensitive; no 'latent' figure whose ears weren't attuned, whose spirit wasn't capable. The same vibrations that gave away her presence, for it was certainly a woman, hinted at a capability that went beyond simple natural talent; this was refined, honed.

Poorly trained, poorly reared, but nevertheless shaped beyond the raw material.

But it wasn't quite Jedi, Saryn had noted, feeling his conscious body begin to stroll from the cargo hold to the corridors as his mind lingered, probing the anomalous. Within the Force, a Jedi was bright; a beacon of light not unlike a glowrod in the dark, lighting up those around it in its presence with the warmth that compassion offered. Saryn had felt it many times, seen through his mind's eye the glimmering lights of the Jedi, like the stars in the night skies.

The presence before him? The...figure before him was not of the same mould. Where the Jedi were bright, defined, the presence in his gaze was formless; shapeless as a shadow and without tangible weight. Like smoke, where Saryn's inquisitive stare might have found target, it was left momentarily confounded, taking but a few moments before realisation could have dawned.

A former investigator for the Jedi, it wasn't as if the Bothan couldn't piece things together, but the shock alone had numbed his calculative prowess for just long enough that even he was on the back foot. A Jedi, but not a Jedi, with a shadowy presence in the Force that felt more oppressive than welcoming, slippery and intangible rather than firmly determined and orderly?

This presence was no Jedi.

Saryn rejoined his conscious body as it turned through the open bulkhead into the lounge, allowing his awareness to saddle itself behind his flesh-and-blood eyes and take in what the physical reality offered. Quill was there, as ever herself, but it took Saryn no time at all to find the source of his discomfort, in the shape of a young girl. Too young to have been a Jedi of the Order, and with no survivors from the Temple to train her, the evidence only began to compound...

Saryn knew he had to play his cards carefully. For the briefest second, the Bothan considered hiding his lightsaber, disguising it, but from behind a stone facade did Saryn smirk; he'd leave it out and visible, and see just what the shadow knew.

"Brought in a stray, Quill?" The bothan jibed, a slight smirk crossing his face, as he made his way across the lounge to the small galley, letting himself glance momentarily toward Ubik, letting an expression cross his face of curiosity and distant uncertainty, as one would expect to see. The clinking of steel to ceramic hinted at the Bothan's intent; the scent of caf confirming it.

"At least it's not Deshk; that Trandoshan's an asshole." Saryn continued, turning to face the hold properly, his back pressing against the cupboard stowage, with the mug of caf in his hands offering a nice feeling of warmth. A slight nod of the head gesturing to Ubik, Saryn didn't regard her directly, instead keeping his gaze to his captain. "What's her name?"
USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
Quill acknowledged Ubik’s fear with a nod. “Okay. Sorry. Stick with us. We’ll see you right.”Nearby, Saryn stirred. Quill spared a smile for Ubik and resisted the impulse to reach out and touch her for reassurance. She hadn’t seemed to take to it to while last time. “That’s just Saryn. The other member of the ship’s crew. Be pretty lonely if I was running this place all by myself, yeah? Don’t worry, he’s fine. We’ll take care of you.”

When Saryn emerged, Quill arched her eyebrows and smiled. “He stirs. Rough night?” she suggested. For all she knew he’d been up for a while, but where was the fun in acknowledging that?

A stray? She caught Ubik’s eye. “You’re not using this, right?” She barely waited for an acknowledgement before grabbing the spoon that she’d been using to eat the pie. Her pie. She winked and lowered her voice to whisper conspiratorially. “Five points if I hit him, ten if the pie filling makes it stick to his fur.”

Quill tossed the spoon across the room at Saryn. “Be nice, Saryn. She needs our help and in return, she’s going to help out around here.” She hadn’t worked out quite what form that help would take, but they’d get there. “And you can ask her your name herself. I don’t think she bites.”

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik nodded her thanks in response to Quill’s reassurance. Despite her profession, Quill struck her as soft, but there was an edge to her somewhere, she was sure of it. If it came to it, Ubik suspected that Quill was more than capable of using the blaster she was carrying.

Something was coming, though and Ubik made herself as small as possible, looking scared as she watched a Bothan come into the lounge. Ubik laughed sarcastically in response to Quill’s ‘quip’ about running the ship on her own. How condescending. She reached behind her and drew the weapon she had stashed in her jacket. Before the weapon was free of her clothes, she thumbed the activation stud and a crimson blade leapt out, spearing Quill through the chest and making a hole in the seat behind her.

It would have been so easy.

“Seems lonely anyway,” Ubik said to the captain. “Two people, all this ship.” The Bothan carried his lightsaber openly, but she forced herself not to focus on it. A stray? She gritted her teeth. She’d show him. No. No. She couldn’t be that. Quill tossed a spoon at Saryn and apparently thought she was funny for it, so Ubik humoured her with a smile. She rose to her feet with poise. “My name’s Ubik. Thank you for allowing me onto your ship.”

USER ID-48 Saryn Kre'tel 38 I The Ash Star
Merchant/Jedi
Force Sensitive: Yes
Magikarp
"I´ve finally realised, that long after laughter dies, I can't undo the things I've done. Oh, what things I´ve done..."quote
sheet
topics
ooc
send
"He stirs indeed...As for rough night, well, when's any night on this ship gone smoothly? Saryn shot back with a playfully wry curl to his voice, barely rising above the baritone rumble his Bothan vocal cords could deliver, his fur shifting ever so slightly in a pattern that Wrendui-fluent eyes would have seen as conveying sarcasm. In truth, his night had actually been tranquil; one of few since boarding the Ash Star so long ago, but one of several since his exposure as a Jedi and his subsequent reconvening.

A new day, a new life, after all.

Continuing to stir the granules of sugar through the watery-thin solution in his cup, Saryn allowed himself to evaluate what his eyes and ears could detect, to ponder his tact thus far, and determine his next move. This new arrival on the vessel, the shadowy blot in the Force, only offered mere glimpses of her true self, hidden away under a cracked but no doubt sturdy visage of normality.

It was a mask Saryn Kre'tel knew well, after all; what was Saryn if not the embodiment of such behaviour? There had been no Jedi named Saryn Kre'tel, after all; Fenn Soran had been his name all those years ago. A mask he had worn for so long, that the sight of someone else shrouded under the same shield was almost startling.

Two liars a mere galley apart; diametrically opposed dogma with little more but a table between them. A wonder, then, just what the Jedi or the Sith would have thought of such an event. An impossibility, without doubt.

And yet...

The Force warned, whispered, of dark thoughts and a threat of violence from the newcomer, but it fell almost as soon as it rose, leaving Saryn unable to continue the line of thought. Indeed, it wasn't until the pie-encrusted spoon bounced from the top of his shoulder that the Bothan had even been aware of its flight; far more concerned with the fleeting sensation of impending murder. If she truly were Sith, truly a figure of the Dark Side, this would require tact.

With that in mind, allowing himself to shrink down from the ethereal world, Saryn withdrew his presence in the Force; stuffed it away. Fell back into the physical realm fully, allowing himself a brief nod as Ubik introduced herself.

"Not my ship, but you're welcome. I'm Saryn, that's Quill." The Bothan offered, gesturing with his head before allowing himself to take a sip of the terrible, terrible insta-caf in his hands, feeling his tastebuds momentarily recoil in horror before submitting to the awful fate foisted upon them.

"And yes, before you ask; it's a lightsaber. No, I'm not one of those old Jedi. Found it on a junkheap on Ord Mantell. Makes for a nice glowrod." Saryn added, turning his glance ever so slightly toward his captain for just the briefest of seconds, as if to implore her to follow along.


USER ID-47 Aquilla Farron 29 I Neutral
Pilot
Force Sensitive: No
Ollie
“Five points,” Quill conceded with a shrug when the spoon fell to the floor. That was okay. Didn’t he have super Jedi reflexes or something? He wasn’t saying much. Maybe he was hungover. Or just tired. “She knows who I am,” she called out, cupping her hand to her mouth for emphasis. “I brought her onboard.”

She caught the look he threw her way and fixed him with a wide-eyed look of her own. She didn’t like secrets, not on this ship. Saryn’s secrets had gotten an awful lot of people killed before, people that she cared about. He was going to tell her sooner, rather than later. If he didn’t, she wasn’t going to be the only person on board who had a painful reminder about her friend Rhysa, today.

For now, she was willing to play his game, though. She trusted him that far. The only question that left though was whether that meant that she wasn’t supposed to trust Ubik. And if Saryn was being this cautious, just what the hell were they dealing with?

USER ID-73 Ubik Vailean 20 I Independent
Deckhand
Force Sensitive: Yes
Ubik
Ubik tensed. He was lying to her. Why was he lying? She bit back her anger, tried to control it, but that wasn't her style. She could feel it growing in her belly, ready to lash out. “I would have felt safer with a real Jedi on board.” She forced a laugh. “I guess not many smugg...” she paused, “...sorry. I guess not many freelance cargo ships have Jedi on board.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I almost said smuggler. Is that a bad word?” The situation was out of her control. Did she need to run? She was tired and beat, but she could get off the ship if she had to.

With a thoughtful frown, she glanced at the weapon the non-Jedi was carrying. He’d recognised her quicker than she'd hoped. Some more time would have been helpful, so he could get to know her. Right now, she didn't know if he was just going to try to kill her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She could feel that he wasn’t like her, so it only followed that he could feel the same about her. “Isn't that dangerous? You know what I hear also makes a good glowrod? Glowrods.”


Topic Options
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll