Naboo's Open Orbit

A look of fear washed over me… could they hear what I was saying right now? I motioned to get the captain’s attention and in a voice that I could only hope he could hear without the other ship too…

“Cut transmission for now.”

as the Delicia did its part to avoid collision, Jim severed the transmission to the ship now identified as the Wayward son. as they leveled off it was Puck that broke the silence

<<…Yuckie poopoo heads can hear what we not transmit?>>

Both of us chuckled at his for a moment. it was the wiser clone that answered.

“More than likely they have a telepath for their pilot. I mean in this day and age it is far more rare to find a sentient NOT connected to the force than otherwise. rest assured young one, I was transmitting a repeated message not an open ship to ship transmission… you connecting was the first full connect our ships had.”

“Are you sure Matango is the man I should train with… just based on the company he keeps?”

“to be fair I should have had the engines ready to jump to warp the instant you sealed the hangar. we are partially at fault for this one.”

Jim re-established the link the other ship as the other pilot finished their tirade. the innocent part of me started talking before the rational could analyze the measures of Sarcasm in the other pilot’s voice.

::Umm… I said that already… didn’t I? My name is Diamonte Tuhlute aboard the Delicia del Dragon. we had left Naboo and as soon as I had docked we were about to Warp to next system to begin a search for of a master force weilder that goes by the name Adieumus Matango. as I docked we got an alert that a ship was about to drop on top of us. If there was any caused damage I could repair it… I am known… well another me, is known for my skills with technology design and ingenuity when it comes to building sabres and ships.::

Just then the comm was yanked from me and Jim talked in an emotionless tone

::Make your way to a space port of your choosing; the Kid, the spirit cat, and myself will rendezvous with you there to assess any damage to your ship and figure out a way make this right.::

Jim severed the communication link before the other pilot could attempt any other digs, Puck jumped from his crystal and took form as an Astral toy tiger. curling up on my head, he just began to sleepily commune with the force… images and words in nonsensical fashion were shown to me… but one word escaped past me… as if it was meant for another to hear

<<…Uncle…>>

As the Wayward son made its way to the starport, so two did the Delicia.

Alora watched the shifts in moods as Raxxie claimed she was going to sleep. Raven thought that was a great idea. The pilot had been through a lot. She then noticed Loki speaking to Adi- shifting tones quickly as he realized just how injured the Arkanian was. She tilted her head curiously. Someone like Loki, statistically should not feel any remorse in regard to a wounded person, even a comrade and it certainly shouldn't change his tone of voice.

But then the universe made sense again when Loki turned to her, addressing her in his normal blunt voice- well ok, not totally making sense because he asked her to join him. She took a quick glance at Adieumus. Should I go kindly?
The Jedi Asked with a mock worried look. I hope you'll be alright. Get off this ship Adi- and go lay down somewhere.
She then turned and nodded up at the large Zabrak- following him into the ship. Soon them came to Loki's quarters and the two of them intered. Alora glanced up at him, relaxing her shoulders and tilting her head curiously. So- what's this about? Are you alright? She asked with some concern- though she didn't look the least bit uncomfortable with the odd situation. Indeed, she looked genuinely worried for the Zabrak's well being.

Silas considered her question for a brief moment. He had not been the one to make the trip. He was merely a passenger. A fighter, yes. Someone who served the ship and the crew, perhaps. But when it came down to it, he would not be the one to make any decision about her presence, either. That was for Draykon, unless the Captain sought his counsel, which he doubted. Ultimately, her question was not one he had any business answering, because it presupposed he had any measure of control over the matter, or a role of leadership here. He had neither. But the question stood. The Preacher moved aside to allow Doctor Sacharo to squeeze past them, and move off deeper into the ship, her arms laden with med supplies. He stepped back to the portal, an outstretched arm preventing the door from closing. 

Since you asked, and because you seem to place a level of importance on the matter -- yes, I do think you could help... but that call is not mine to make. pause People who were slaves are now free. Look around. There's a boat-load of them. Bad men are ashes in the wake of this. A criminal organization lies in ruins. We rolled the dice, and the losses on our side made a deep cut, no question -- but the odds favoured us. That's not in vain. None of it. 

He turned away from her now, and moved off toward the hold. He had done what was needed. She had something new to think about. And she would make her choice. For or against. Stay or go. Should the Captain ask, Silas would make his recommendation and his feelings known. But he was not, strictly speaking, a member of this crew. And so his place was in the common areas, not the private sections of the craft. He found a space in the hold to call his own for the short time until they made planetfall, sat cross-legged and pulled out his small field-cleaning kit for his sidearm. He unrolled the small cloth-wrapped bundle of tools and spare parts, and set about disassembling the slugthrower, until it lay in several pieces on the oil-stained rag before him. He took his time reassembling the hand-cannon, and then took from a pocket the six remaining pieces of cutlery he had brought from his home, and lay them on the mat as well. As if taking great care in determining the level of nostalgia attached to the individual knives, forks and the sole remaining spoon, he selected three knives, a fork, and the spoon, and stuffed the last piece, a butter-knife, back into his pocket. Out of his small ruck came the igniter and a well-used, small pot and wire frame. 

Silas set the wire frame up, placed the pot -- not much bigger than a tin mug -- atop it, and lit the igniter, placing the heat source beneath the blackened pot. In the pot went the five pieces of cutlery. 

This part would take a few minutes, and the Preacher leaned back, letting his head rest against the cool of the exterior bulkhead. When he opened his eyes, he found that two small boys were curiously watching him work, fascinated. He raised an eyebrow at their unchecked eagerness, and winked. Watch this. 

Within another ten seconds, the cutlery began to distort, and soon began to melt under the intense heat (the bottom of the pot now glowed red-orange.) A minute later, all that remained was a grey, swirling liquid. The two boys looked on, having never seen anything of the sort before. Preacher retrieved one more item from his ruck, which, upon first inspection looked like little more than a misshapen door hinge. Lying it carefully beside the pot, he used a kerchief to pick the hot container up, and pour some of the molten liquid into the hinge, closing it tightly. He picked up the hinge, making a good show of how hot it was, and how he had just burned himself with it -- but he then smiled and showed the boys it was all a joke. The hinge was cool to the touch. Silas tapped the hinge-thing several times on the floor, from all sides, and then popped it open to reveal the smooth, shaped slug within, which popped out into the Preacher's waiting hand. He used a small rasp to cut away the excess, and smoothed it with a cloth, before dropping it into the first boy's hand. Smithing 101, lads. There's enough for five more, just like that. Just have to case them and add the powder. 

What is it? -- A bullet. A bullet? Yes, to shoot from my gun. Y'mean like some kinda blaster? No... nothing like a blaster...

Silas was prepared to explain the principles of explosive propellants and slug-throwing tech to them, but the boys shook their heads, dropped the slug back into his open palm, and went off together, uninterested and astounded that someone would take so much time when a good blaster could chill so many so fast...

The Preacher smiled, and went back to his mould. 

 
Silas looked up as the blonde woman spoke to him, nodding cordially and adding a little smile to the gesture. His hands were still busy pressing the mould together for another round, and he continued to work while they spoke, moving as much by practiced motion as current concentration. In fact, his eyes held her gaze most of the time, only peering down for a particularly intricate or fiddly moment. 

Ms. Ryzer -- I'm ok, thanks. Feeling a whole lot better than upon our hasty exit from unsavoury company, but let that pass. 

Fact was, he could do with a good meal and a shower, but that was for Naboo, and soon enough. In the meantime, there was prep to accomplish. He popped the third slug out of the mould, and poured another small measure of the molten metal into the shape, closing it in a gloved hand and using the tongs to press the mould together firmly. 

This? Yes... My weapon of choice uses a size of ammunition I have yet to find anywhere in the 'verse. Not that I've travelled particularly far, mind you. But .63 caliber is a large bullet, and if I want 'em, I gotta make 'em. drawing the remaining butter knife from his pocket last of the set my parents were gifted on their day of union. Soft metal. Lower melting temperature. dropping it back into the pocket, he popped out the fourth slug, and poured a fifth, closing and pressing the mould. 

Our passengers seem to have found a rhythm, mostly. He gestured to the surrounding groupings of beings. Some were asleep, heads resting on shoulders and stomachs, against cargo crates and on the decking. Some mended clothes, or had strung up makeshift privacy screens with blankets and towels. There were the sounds of children playing, and of weeping. Of joy and sadness. They are realizing what their past has led them to, and how to move on to what lies ahead. It is the most blessed of sounds. Silas popped the fifth bullet free of the mould, and poured the final slug, clasping the shape closed. Next, he went to work on the four existing bullets, smoothing and de-burring, before producing a handful of spent shell-casings from a pocket in his ruck. These he lined up, and opened a small vial of powder, adding a measured amount to each, before test-fitting the first slug to its casing. This was a more involved process, and he kept his eyes on his work, even as he spoke, in low tones, to Erly: 

I had a little word with Isabelle Eoura, at the request of Mr. Weston. I'll say no more here and now, but she merits discussion, and the Captain might do well to take an interest. 

Silas held up the first bullet to his keen eye, examining the craftsmanship for flaws, before shutting off the igniter, and folding the wire frame back on itself until it formed a kind of crimping tool, which he used to seat the slug firmly into the casing. Smiling at the job done, he opened the chamber of the hand-cannon, and slid the large cartridge home, spinning the chamber and snapping it shut. 

Very little compared to the serenity of the expanse of space. At least not in the eyes of Shaden when he was peering out of the view port of his ship into vast array of stars. Nothing came close until it came time to spend what little time he could with his daughter, and even then he was sure that she would have preferred he stick to something he was familiar with. He was never much the traditional father, preferring to go about it in his own method from the heart of a wandering soul. He was sure that the girl would have been better off staying on Coruscant with her mother but it was at her insistence that he take the girl with him. And thus there he was as he sat in his pilots chair looking out over the almost glowing orb of Naboo. It had been decades since he'd been to it's surface, walked the streets of Theed, but there was only so much time one could spend in artificial gravity, traversing the space lanes, before one showed the signs of going stir crazy.

Thus it was time they took a pit stop, and it had been his daughter's selection that they travel to the mid rim for their minor 'vacation'. It wouldn't have been exciting were it not for the expression on her face as she looked out over the same planet he was. It was as if she was in a completely different world when she was looking at planets far more lush than Coruscant and Nar Shadda; and as if his entire conscious had been given a refresher when the words bubbled up to describe it. She wasn't much for collection when she was intrigued, but he could excuse the lack of tact when presented with a world she'd never once visited in her life. Stories were one thing, but experiences were another all together.

"It looks so beautiful from out here." She muttered as her eyes reflected the light that shone off the side of the planet that was still struck by the days sun. "I wouldn't believe there were people down there." She continued and looked over at her father with intrigue in her eyes.

"This hardly compares to what you'll see when we get down there." He answered her expression and shifted to cross his ankles and plant his feet firmly against the bottom of the view port, atop the console. "Your mother would tell me stories about her family after they were migrated here after Alderaan's destruction." The words were bitter at first, but as he spoke them they came more smoothly. While Alderaan's fate had been a long drawn subject in history, talking of the woman who could not be present with them was bittersweet. "She would want you to see it for yourself, Tyria." He continued, leaning his head back and glancing up at Kavis as he stepped into the cockpit.

"Joron says we're ready to go. Or at least that's what he told me Skass reported." Kavis' uncertain tone filled the room and Shaden watched as Tyria spun around in her seat to look at her uncle. There was an almost irritated look on her face, but it was far from concerning from the perspective of a captain.

"You mean the bug that we picked up on Corellia?" She asked and gave a contorted look to Kavis as he cracked a small smile and shook his head. If there was anything to be taken away from it, she was not one to mince her words.

"Yes, Tyria, the bug." Kavis retorted and gave her a small pat on the head before taking a step back and moving towards the exit port. "We'll be waiting for your say, Shaden. We're prepped and ready to go." He continued and with a small chuckling breath towards Tyria he disappeared around the corner and down towards the engineering bay with heavy footsteps accompanied by the sound of a clicking set.

"If that thing didn't make such cool weapons," Tyria began with a mildly bitter tone before beign interrupted by her father as he turned and looked at her, dropping his feet to the ground and clearing his throat.

"That thing has a name, Tyria," He chided and turned to begin the descent protocols. "If you're going to talk about someone, at the very least learn to use their name before you call them a thing." He added, the humor in his voice enough as he left off any form of chuckle. It was clear he was going to work quickly bringing up the connection with the live feed from the surface as he transmitted an old set of landing codes and brought the ship into a slow descent towards the planet.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I get it. Doesn't mean I have to like it though." She muttered to herself as she straightened herself up and spun back to face the consoles Shaden was going to work on. She chimed in quickly with her own learned knowledge of the protocols and began to accompany his efforts with her own to simplify the procedure. "Why do you keep using those old codes, dad? Kavis could easily get us the new ones if you just ask him." She said without lifting her gaze, instead choosing to focus on her work as he absently smiled and shook his head.

"Because this old man likes to think that he can get things done the old fashioned way." He retorted to her inquiry and pushed up on the thruster controls to bring them into a somewhat faster dive until they could level out and descend towards the spaceport of Theed. "Besides, he's my brother. If I gave him even the slightest room to stroke his ego he'd be drowning us in it." He added with a small breathy chuckle that was met just as easily with a laugh from his daughter.

"You can say that again." She added before silently awaiting the ships landing, never one to speak when the hum and shake of the ship took hold. It was the one part of landing she hated the most.