Felucia's Open Terrain

*Crystaall sighed as the attention focused on her. It was her own mistake, and she couldn't bother to explain it to the rest of the group. Taking a deep breath, she tried her best to assure everyone she was alright. Switching her pistol with Tag, she shook her head.*

-I'll... be fine. I severed my connection to the Force, temporarily. I did it so I could focus on our mission instead of having the planet's dark energy hound my mind. Can we please get moving? I'll get my connection back in approximately 5 minutes, and I'd rather not still be in this forest when that happens.-

*Crystaall's temperature began to cool down, after she began to speak, the heat she had earlier still remained do to so much energy she had around her It was almost like she was absorbing its power. Of course, she wouldn't spit out the true reason, for 1 it could sound ridiculous to the group, or it could just sidetrack them from the mission, and she'd rather not have that. The Force here was as strong as she was, and she didn't want to take the risk of falling to it like prey. She hoped the group could just dismiss the issue and keep going. The serious look in her eyes meant that they should probably keep going. And when the Force returned to her, she would be able to focus more inside the facility, rather than outside.*

Tag gritted his teeth, the grating sound of his enamel rubbing together sounding dully over the commlink. He dismissed Ellie with a wave of his hand as Crystaall took the Verpine pistol from him, handing him her own. The Sith have no roving patrols and we're well beyond their perimeter. He gave each of the three Force Sensitives a cold, hard stare. The T-visor of his helmet was emotionless, bereft of any sign regarding how the man behind it was feeling. But the venom was clear in his tone. He holstered Crystaall's pistol and gave the three of them a warning, the only one they'd get. I don't give a damn what you lot decide about your own mental health, but get it sorted now or I'll leave you bound and gagged back here, waiting for pick up so you don't end up crippling our mission. He hefted his rifle and turned away, returning to the head of the column. Now get moving. Tag snapped. Joanie snickered over the commlink. Can it, Joan. Tag warned, clearly in no mood to deal with any more hang ups. He appreciated the abilities Force Users were capable of employing on the battlefield, but working with them could be like sitting sickly children. He stepped off once more, over brush and around tall, spindly trees, ensuring the rest of the column remained well enough spaced from one another.

*As Crystaall followed the group in silence, they reached a small drop. They only stopped for a short time though, dropping onto lower ground. Crystaall actually holstered the verpine shattegun Tag had given her. It surprisingly fit into the flexible pocket as she still held one of her lightsabers in her right hand. Listening to Ellie's question, she began to go over her own memory of Felucia. It had Felucian warriors and shamans, but not one powerful enough to take on trained Force Sensitive. By her own thoughts, they were probably being controlled by the Sith in this area, which might be a problem should the Sith even discover them. Cracking her neck, she noticed that she was the only one not wearing a helmet. As the Force steadily began to climb its way back up to its strength inside her, Crystaall tried her best to reach out to the Felucians without alerting her presence. Luckily, she could tell that not all of them welcomed the dark Force users. Reverting her attention back to the squad and no longer trying to learn about the planet, Crystaall decided to remain silent, wishing she had brought her helmet.*

Tag gave Ellie most of his attention as she spoke, keeping his eyes forward and watching the corridor. Good, you've got her. Now that we have a location on the captives, make sure you Force Users keep your powers turned way down from now on. We don't want your Dark Sided brethren to sense your presence. Tag had a solid understanding of how Jedi and Sith both utilized their latent Force talents, for they were in many ways similar to his own buy'ce. His helmet was nearly a part of him, and he used it with ease, as if it were merely another part of his body. The equipment was even capable of some of the same tasks. With it, Tag could communicate silently and securely with other commandos, and could even seize control of the minds of droids and other machinery that weren't made to defend against such invasion. The comparison only strengthened Tag's assertion that Force Users were just like everyone else.
Ellie, since you've got the location down, you take point for our team. Keep your map of the compound open on your HUD so you can relay to Able Team where we're going. They'll continue around the other side of the courtyard and meet us on the opposite end. Tag pressed himself against the stone wall at his back, sidling along it and leaving room for Ellie to take the lead. He kept his rifle up, maintaing point security while he waited for her to take over. When they completed their rearrangement, Tag found himself between Zimmy, the youthful overzealous one, and Crystaall, the stalwart Jensaarai powerhouse. Something about the boy's demeanor told Tag he was having a rougher time with this mission than usual, but he refrained from bringing it up with Zimmy for the time being. Under pressure, Zimmy had always performed well, and Tag would have expected him to say something if he were dealing with more than he could handle. Behind them, in the West-running corridor, Able Team held their position, waiting for the queue to continue onward.

Tag grimaced, calling Ellie to hold as he turned his gaze to the Jensaarai woman. His frustration was apparent in his tone and demeanor. Had Crystaall been working with her pint-sized girlfriend, Leftenant Hadrix, her insistence might have held sway. But Tag wasn't a commando, he was a Black Operator, and his missions were run by his rules. Contingency plans were predetermined, and adhered to for a reason. Even in the most dire of circumstances, a good contingency plan carried a far greater success rate than the superfluous fighting style common amongst Force Users. I'm afraid you'll have to take no for an answer, Sehefadu. He bit out, wanting to end the conversation as quickly as possible. Every moment they spent planning was another opportunity for a Sith to take a wrong, ill-fated turn around a corner and expose them. Were that to happen, the captives might be the first casualties. If we've got no other choice, then sure, stick around and dance about with your little blades. But barring the worst of the worst, you stick with the group, and we react and fight as a team. This isn't a Jedi operation, we play by different rules. When this is all over, remind me to tell you how many soldiers I've seen die in combat because some Forcie wanted to look good on a battlefield report. Tag leaned forward, looking passed Crystaall and tapped Ellie on the shoulder, signaling her to move. His words were harsh, but then again, that's the type of man he was. He had no time or patience for heroes, and the Jedi hadn't earned much of his respect during his long years of service. To Tag, success on the battlefield was determined by intellect and preparation, not skill with a blade. He'd seen plenty of Jedi cut down because they relayed so heavily on their lightsabers to provide them cover and offense. Sure, the powers they were capable of were quite impressive, and they could usually take down a room full of enemies before being put down, but what good was winning the battle if you lost the war? Fight smarter, not harder, was a motto common amongst more formal military organizations. It was corny, but couldn't be more true, which was why Tag lived by it as best he could. If Crystaall was going to need her lightsabers, that was fine, but the weapons made noise, were instantly recognizable, and required close-quarters to engage most effectively. Tag would have preferred she stick with the shatterfun he'd given her, but he knew that wasn't likely to happen.

"OOMPH! AGH! YOWCH!" Mirian accentuated each impact she made with loud exclamations as she bounced roughly down a small hill, finally coming to a stop by colliding into the shins of a heavily armored Fardraxas, one of the commandos. It had been going fairly fine for the girl. Her first stint with GALSAF in an actual mission, for which she showed her appreciation by yawning in technicolour into the nearest waste bin when she'd been informed that she'd be disembarking with the armed forces.

They still couldn't tell if she'd thrown up in over excitement or utter terror, or both.

The LAAT/i that she rode with were full of commandos who were somewhat familiar with the rather unorthodox girl. No doubt she guessed they were wondering what she was doing out here with them as much as she herself was. She was a farmer, a mechanic, a self-trained field medic...at the very least, and an endless source of amusement inside the Firestorm just by walking (and crashing) around. The girl had two-and-a-half left feet, and could trip over her own legs three times in a row. She was never allowed to hold scissors as a result. No telling what limbs she'd cut off from herself if she did carry one.

So when the gunship dropped the commandos off, she'd been the last one off from a low hill surrounded by really tall...were those things mushrooms?!? Anyway, she'd tried to be cool, or so she thought, by imitating the commandos who easily jumped off the transport craft. Unfortunately, she'd lost her footing with her jelly-like ankles, and ended up rolling past a group of commandos, and finally being "saved" by crashing into Fardraxas, who appeared completely unmoved, literally, by her impact. Weighing at only a hundred and ten pounds, she wasn't likely to be able to make that much of an impression on someone in heavy armor anyways.

Fardraxas politely asked her if she was all right.

"Yep!" Mirian said far too quickly, and leapt to her feet, causing blood to rush to her brain and make her a little woozy, and blinked rapidly a few times to clear out the white spots she saw in her field of vision. "Totally fine...yeah..."

The hopeless girl stumbled away to pick up all her gear, blushing as she passed the commandos she'd rolled past earlier when she lost her footing.

Mirian wasn't prone to overpreparing for anything. It was her first mission, and she'd studied the guidelines in an instruction manual, and then went over with several individuals on what she should bring. So she only stuffed in two Life-Support Kits, a customized GALSAF-issue First Aid Kit, all put into a backpack, and then she'd acquired a utility belt akin to the kinds used by Stormtroopers. She also packed ration bars, a micro power supplier and nightlamp. In addition to her hidden and faulty lightsaber, she also had her S-5 Heavy Blaster Pistol, along with GALSAF issue weapons, and the lightest chestplate she could find. When she was given the armour, she was told try not to get shot, stabbed or bitten by anything. She also had some spare parts and a toolbox to fix droids or machines.

Yep, Mirian wasn't one to be overprepared. She was just carrying the bare minimum.

After her glorious entry, Mirian stood to one side, and tried to brush out the nativity in her hair and face. Being accustomed to having accidents, she did an impressive job of cleaning herself in a relatively short time. Just as she finished, Gunnery Sergent Gatara Dulton beckoned her over, then told her to stay put. The Zabrak went a short distance away to greet someone else. Mirian took the time to take in her surroundings. She'd studied as much about the planet as she could before embarking on her first mission. When she'd learnt that the Living Force had a strong influence here, the girl blanched and had a mild panic attack. The last thing she needed was to be closer to the accursed Force than she already was.

As it was, many of the Corellian Jedi used to muse amongst themselves that she was living proof that the Force had a sense of humor. Yay, go Mirian.

So with that thought in mind, she began to go over her old teachings from her master. There were ways to suppress the influence of the Force in and around her, so she did just that, and that immediately resulted in an increased amount of clumsiness and mishaps happening to her. Any use of the Force held adverse effects for her. Unbeknownst to her, back aboard the Firestorm, a technician who was working on a Walker would have been crushed if she hadn't tripped over her own feet not fifty feet away from him, and he'd come out from the walker to see if she was okay. The walker shortly after lurched forward and would have flattened the technician if he hadn't left.

Mirian scratched irritably at the scar on her cheek, as she continued to size up the planet. She already felt like she wanted off the place. But she would stay here with the commandos for as long as they needed her to be. Still, she wondered if she might not have been of better use to them inside the Serene Moondancer, her ship.


Mirian was snapped out of her reverie when she heard her false name being spoken out loud, and she'd noticed that Gatara and the other person, Ali Hadrix were now right in front of her, or did she walk over to them? She couldn't quite remember, as her mind had wandered off quite a bit. Ali pulled off her helmet and introduced herself while extending an arm towards Mirian.

"H-huh?" Mirian stammered distractedly. She was trying to keep track of everything being said, and at the same time keep her eyes out for anything amiss in her surroundings, but then, that would be the whole planet. "Oh! Uhm...sorry, I mean...h-hi..."

She reached out uncertainly and gently clasped Ali's offered hand. Her grip was both firm, and shaky all at once. It didn't appear to be just nervousness, and for some odd reason, Mirian gently swayed Ali's hand left-to-right in a dreamy manner, and her royal blue eyes focused past Gatara and Ali, her mind wandering off again, thinking about keeping up with commandos and staying alive, before she blinked a few times and quickly glanced back over at Ali, momentarily distracted again.

"Oh Hi..." she said, "Right...I'm, I'm attached to the Firestorm, yeah. Trained in field medicine and all that sort of thing, so yeah...I mean, I'm happy to be of service to the commandos and all that."

She offered a casual smile, and then tilted her head slightly to one side. Did Ali just wink at her??? What was that about? Was she like hinting at how hard the mission was going to be and this was like a hazing or initiation mission? If so, she wished the commandos picked something gentler for her, like maybe Alderaan. She finally looked down and realized that she was still holding on to Ali's hand, and her hand was trembling slightly. She quickly withdrew her hand and distractedly brushed her hair back with her other hand, placing her still trembling hand behind her, and she smiled innocently.

Get a grip, girl! Mirian scolded herself privately, whatever you do, DO NOT throw up on the commanding officer's boots. Or anyones for that matter.