The Hangar

Shaking the man's hand, Kirito lets go and unclips his data pad from his belt and hands it to Aerandir.

"The subject of my visit would best be discussed in private Headmaster"

The twelve Skipray Blastboat fighters could almost be heard sighing with relief as their engines - which had been running ceaselessly since they first departed Felucia - finally powered down. Their pilots were barely able to clamber out of their cockpits, some actually collapsing on the landing bay floor as their feet touched it as if the powerful current of the Force surrounding Felucia shot straight up their ankles.  In the center of the bay, the Spearhead's landing struts wheezed as the repulsorlifts holding her up cut out, and the boarding ramp almost fell.  The crew was tired.  Even their ships were tired.  But making his way down the boarding ramp of the CR90 corvette was a man that had forsaken rest altogether.

Rutil Iorek was not one for pleasantries.  So when the attendant of that particular section of the landing bay went to greet him, the old Jedi shot him a look that could have frozen Mustafar.  Long strides took him sailing past the attendant, almost running him over outright as he made his way to the other side of the hangar, where the turbolifts and corridors would take him to meet with Master Calmcacil once again.  Master Calmcacil and - if there was any justice - other Jedi that he had rallied to the cause.

They would be needed; while the Hapans had pledged support, they had appointed far fewer than Rutil had anticipated.  And of them, only one had any Force potential.  And even then, something about the armored man that would be heading the Hapan fleet felt wrong somehow.  He was referred to as Master, and his aura, while not necessarily light, certainly wasn't dark.  But something about it felt almost artificial.  It might not have been anything.  Technology always had a way of interfering with one's connection to the Force.  And sometimes it wasn't even technology; heavy enough armor plates could prevent more direct applications of the Force outright.  Nevertheless, this "Master Varro" had Rutil's attention.

And where one had the attention of Rutil Iorek, it all too often meant that a set of crosshairs weren't far behind.

-----

Captain Marris had never been closer to mutiny in his life.

He had followed orders he didn't like.  Hell, he had given orders he secretly didn't want to see carried out.  But in every case, the cause behind them was good, and the commander he answered to was reasonable.  Marris wasn't sure that either applied in the case of Master Iorek.  It did not take long for Captain Marris to resent the Zabrak and his domineering attitude, even as he tried to help him.  And while he agreed with the Zabrak to a point - the Sith had to be exterminated, no question about it - Marris feared just how far Master Iorek would go to achieve that end.  There was a fire in his eyes that burned cold, something he had never seen before.  Something that told him that the Jedi would throw as many bodies onto the fire as it took to extinguish the dark side's threat.  No matter the cost, Master Iorek would pay it.  And the live he would throw away would have no say in the matter.

As he made his own way across the hangar, taking quick glances at his exhausted crew as he did so, he wondered how he was going to bring this up with Master Calmcacil.

*Home at last from the Kashyyyk campaign... And it was good to be home. The battle had gone far better than could have hoped, but battle was still battle, grueling, tiring, and it took a toll on all involved. Aerandir intended to get as much relaxation as he could, gain proper rest from the battle, and see his children.

And speaking of children, he had Mina to integrate into her new life. She had been able to wash up on the way here and put into something more clean for now, and she looked in far better shape. She was a pretty little thing too, but that had been difficult to see under the dirt and ragged hair. She had yet to smile, but her expression was at least far more hopeful now than it had ever been, or at least since Aerandir had encountered her.

On the shuttle ride down to the surface, she'd nearly pressed herself against the viewport trying to get a good look at the purple planet they descended upon. She seemed very intrigued by it, notably by the very large fungi and flower formations. Kashyyyk had mammoth trees, but these? They were unlike what other planets had to offer, and it was always entertaining watching someone's first reaction to seeing such large flora up close.

As the ship landed in the hangar, Mina suddenly became energetic, dashing toward the ship's ramp. He and Michelle caught up to her, leading her down the ramp and into the noisy hangar. Aerandir had mistaken her enthusiasm for wanting to go see the inside of the base, but she had instead wanted to go outside and take a closer look at the overgrown flora.

It warmed Aerandir's heart that she had come so alive now, instead of being that broken and quiet little girl hiding in a prison cell. Smiling, he agreed, but said that they wouldn't venture far out, only to the edge of the fungal forest. She almost smiled, though didn't, as she ran out ahead of him, the siblings jogging to catch up. She asked questions, about the growths, about the world itself, questions Aerandir willingly answered. Her enthusiasm would have made Morgan excited, and he had no doubt the two of them could become easy friends. Where was she at the moment anyway? Probably out in the jungle, as usual...*

----

*Bix had stepped into the hangar, idly brushing his hand over his goatee as he kept an eye out for whom he was supposed to be meeting. Instead, his eyes found Aerandir and Michelle. Oh, good, so they'd returned. Bix very much wanted to ask how the campaign went, but for now, duty called; that, and he was sure the man wished to rest—

A girl? There was a girl with them, one Bix didn't recognize. A refugee brought back from the planet? Curious... Bix smirked to himself, mumbling,* "Don't tell me he adopted another war orphan," *before watching them head out toward the jungle. Well, that freed Bix up to look for the TwinTail he was told about, and the "Jedi Lord" Crix Stratus.

It wasn't hard to find of course; new ships were pretty easy to spot, but TwinTails especially, seeing as they were uncommon around these parts. Throughout Bix's entire career, for that matter. Approaching the man beside the ship, he scratched at his beanie briefly then lowered his arms, bowing to him.* "Lord Stratus? I'm Master McDouglas of the Felucian Conclave, how may I be of service?"

*Message to the Council... ah, right. Bix's eyes showed recollection and he nodded, though waited for the man to continue speaking, accepting the datapad offered him as well. Bix skimmed over the reports shown, some of them he was mildly familiar with, though he otherwise furrowed his brows at the details being shown.

He looked up when Lord Stratus spoke of his desire not to repeat the mistakes of his ancestor, who nearly fell to the dark side in his attempts to unify Jabiim. Bix nodded and said,* "Yes, you gotta be careful not to go too far when trying to unite people. It's a difficult balance..."

*He fought off a sigh, then continued,* "Sorry we didn't get back to you. That call came when we were planning the assault on the Sith of Kashyyyk." *Glancing toward the direction of the hangar's entrance, where Aerandir and the two girls had wandered, he added,* "Which I'm assuming went well." *Bix then returned his attention to the Jedi Lord.* "Is there anything I can do for you, or would you rather get right down to discussion?"

*Somewhat as expected, Lord Stratus preferred to talk quickly. A sign of a serious and dedicated leader then, but if he meant to waste no time, then neither would Bix. Nodding, he turned, saying,* "Right, this way then," *and making a brief gesture for him to follow before he departed for the Council Chambers.*

Far above, a well-kept Hawk-class freighter approached the Jedi base's hangar. As it landed, the side ports exuded thick puffs of steam out of its narrow back port, regulating the internal air pressure to match it with the surrounding atmosphere. The ship settled roughly into the planet's gravity, its age showing in a series of groans and pops as the main hatch to the cargo bay opened. 

From outside the ship, anyone looking in could see all the way down the narrow passageway connecting all of the minute compartments clear the to cockpit. Halfway down the corridor, a small woman sat with her back to a compartment door, her head resting on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs so that one hand dangled close to a shoto on her hip. The cockpit door was open; from inside it, a droid that seemed almost too large from the space stepped out, followed by a young girl. The droid nodded at the woman as she passed; the woman nodded in return without a word. 

"Ready?" the droid said instead, presumably to the girl behind her. The gears of her shoulders whirred as she shrugged forward, indicating the vague shadows of people outside the ship. "There they are."