Suspicious For The Winter

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

They had been waiting in the Kessel system for half a day, the hired ship crouched low on the back of an asteroid and running at minimal power. Jayec Veth’s ship had arrived at last, was even now maneuvering into position as both crews performed their final equipment checks. Lidah Faine stood in the cargo bay, the space currently doubling as an armory. A thick gray bodysleeve covered her from the chin down, moisture wicking and laced with meters of sensors and stiff wiring. The cowl was loose about her shoulders, ready to be pulled up and over her pinned back hair. The armor suit’s plumbing apparatus hung from her waist, spider-like. ”Now that we're here, I don’t feel good about this.” Lidah muttered quietly to the back of Janus Yarloc’s head as he helped lock the pieces of heavy carapace onto her. The gauntlets were nearly last and by far the strangest – mircoservos whirring softly with every twitch of her fingers, a near perfect echo of her movements. A diagnostic scanner eventually found the fault and Yarloc had the wrist panel open in a moment. She watched him work, quite out of her depth with the delicate machinery. They didn’t know enough about the station. Could it be taken by a double handful of clever assailants? All of her bright people, scrambled and shipped out as quickly as could be managed. The one thing she did know about the Unseen: this moment of opportunity would not last long. At last, all the little indicator lights were green and satisfied. Lidah thanked Janus with a jerky nod and drifted away to find Locke. She watched him for a moment, features set at their most opaque. There was a world of difference between paying someone to risk their life and this tangled up understanding. ”Trade helmets with me, Tyr?” Lidah held out her command helmet, bristling with telemetry antenna.

[Stephen]

Janus laughed to himself. Trading helmets was an old tradition among spec op teams. Having access to the other strike teams telemetry could be handy in the occasional coordinated effort, It signified command in a single unit however. A nice touch, if it didn't backfire and you didn't have to listen to your best mate breath his last spitting blood into his face plate through your now shared telemetry. Janus couldn't decide if it was good that no one wanted his helmet, complete with MoBiva chipped into the onboard, or bad that if he died on this mission it was going to be seen as perhaps unfortunate, but hardly more. His flight suit was lean and black reinforced nanofiber. Twin green wires ran the length of Janus' body, down both arms and legs and ended in his built in boots. A small black square settled in the small of his back, the only sign of the mandatory rebreather, computer, and power supply. He slid his dark green flight helmet over his head, and sealed himself in.

Immediately his suit AI sprung to life, firing up various menus and information feeds in minute scale temporarly etched on the black tinted view screen in green light before disappearing back into the the projectors on each side of his jaw. He flicked his eyes left and right, reorienting his display until it was in his most recent preset. A green smiling face popped in the right hand corner of his vision. All last second tests were good.

Janus silently turned to his gear. He grabbed a sleek back belt and strapped it over his suit. The entirety of a combat engineer's kit reworked to fit within a series of heat resistance belt pouches. He squeezed one of the pouches for comfort, and felt the handle of his light saber within. He strapped on a matte black shoulder holster and buckled his Arkanian heavy blaster within. He was ready. The anxious quiet of the mission overrode his nervous joking. He strapped himself he slid silently into his chair and buckled himself in.

[Rugs]

Locke rarely giggled, but he nearly did as he waited for the others to finish gearing up for the task at hand. He had, for the most part, put his armored space suit on, all reinforced mesh weave and slick black metal plating that hugged the contours of his body. It felt a bit like a glove that fit over the whole of his body. Mildly uncomfrotable, initially, in its strangeness, but he quickly adjusted to it.

While the others dressed, Locke tapped away at a hover-display over a datapad, gloves whirring as his fingers moved. He’d taken it upon himself to assign codenames to both teams, and was nearly complete with his list, the inspiration for which had come from his wayward former student.

He gave the list a final appraising lookover, and, with a self-satisfied nod, sent an encrypted message that would ping to everyone’s suits when they were activated.

“Alright, everyone, here are your code names for the job. Please use them as this is a very serious and we should be serious too. Names are as follows

Team A:
Knife in the Night - Jazen
Chinois in the Drawer - Tyrvast
Bubble in the Bath - Lidah
Stranger in the Raid - Janus

Team B:
Hammer at Home - Thelonious
Shield in the Field - Jayec
Broom in the Closet - Ylva
Glitch in the System - Io’an

Good luck out there, all. Let’s kick ass.”

A singsong beep confirmed the delivery of his message to all parties. Locke turned off the datapad and set it down, leaning back on the crate he’d turned into a chair while waiting. A bit of joking to calm the nerves--there were worse things.

Below it all, something felt off about the whole affair. Botto had been dealt with, but he had been the puppet, not the master. And now a strike against the Unseen, who were apparently behind the whole cluster at the Fork a few weeks ago.

Locke’s jaw tightened subtly. The Unseen were no casual prey. He knew that first hand.

"Trade helmets with me, Tyr?"

Lidah’s voice drew Locke from his mulling. He looked up at her, in her powered suit and offered a smile that seemed to say ’You look nice’ as he studied the helmet she held out toward.

“Well, I suppose I can,” he said. His own helmet sat on the crate beside him. He picked it up and looked it over, then offered it to Lidah with one hand as he took her helmet in the other. “So does that make me the boss for this job?”

[Jazen]

"I'm just saying, I can feel the tension back there whenever you and him were around one another. Tension like that, well, it ain't good for this kind of mission. You should address it before hand, if you want to keep breathing."

The voice of the smuggler at the helm of his ship was loud in the quiet little cockpit, most of the ships running noises that typically filled the air silent. Only minimal lights and life support were online, plus sensors to at least alert Shine and his passengers if trouble was coming ahead of schedule. Which meant the dull hiss of everything else was quiet, enough that Shine could almost hear parts of the babble coming from aft, where the cargo bay was. His attentions, however, were on the man in the cockpit with him, sealed tight into his armor and the modifications it had to allow it a brief time in space. A quiet one, him, but Shine had long learned to read people to stay alive and his passengesrs had a lot to say.

"I don't recall giving you permission to share your opinions with me." Came Jazen's blunt, flat reply. His helmet made his voice deeper and monotone when he needed it to be and that's what it came out as. To which Shine shrugged and checked a few gauges on the dash, making sure everything was running as smooth as it needed for what was to come next. Jazen himself was keeping mostly silent, most of his thinking being done in his head as he considered the man's words.


"My ship. I'm allowed to give out whatever opinion I want. Speaking of which, while there's tension between you and that fellow, there's something even more fiery between him and the lady. He's got it bad...and so does she." A beeping light above him drew his eye and he flicked it twice, checking the readout and then the small clock to the right. "Well, looks like its almost time. Vis, take over and prepare to boot up the ship on my mark. Come on kid...back to the others."

Moments later, the two came thumping into the hold, Jazen finding a spot near the far wall, arms folded across his armoured chest. He briefly glanced down at the beeping signal on his wrist, keying the message up to his HUD for a look. From Locke, no less...codenames. He snorted inside his helmet, which was thankfully muted to the rest of them for that. His eyes glanced toward him, and Lidah, close by. Shine sure didn't get that one wrong, that ws for sure.

"Alright folks, we got about thirty minutes before your friends should be in position and doing their thing. I imagine we'll see the big boom when they do and if not, Vis is listening into comm frequencies. We'll know soon enough if their plan is working. At which point, your fine Captain will do a quick fly by, close enough so that you can get onto the station and not freeze to death in those suits and hopefully fast enough they don't pick up on it. The ship's got enough to counter their radar, but not for long. I'll drop you off, fly out, jump to lightspeed and circle back to the rock we're on. Then, boom, call me when you need out. All good? Fantastic. I'll be up on the bridge if anyone needs me."

And with that he headed back up, leaving Jazen and his fellows to finish any planning they needed to do for the mission. And hash out any issues that needed hashing. Probably.

Maybe.

[Neology]

What is that smile about? Lidah wondered, momentarily lured out of the paralyzing funk in her head. Oh. She bit her lip, killing the helpless chuckle before it could escape. ”Like the soldierly get up, do you?” A bare whisper, addressed to the bulkhead behind Locke’s head. Trapped in close company for the duration, always acting or outright lying … It was a peculiar sort of hell. Never-Enough-Time stretched into a handful of empty days, nothing to do but go over the station blueprints again and again, or as near as they could be guessed. A stock design from the same company, decades old – no basis for a real plan. ”Yes. I …” Don’t trust myself to be objective about this. ”I think you have more experience with this kind of thing. Don’t you, Generalissimo?” That was true enough and several orders less complicated. Lidah took his helmet in exchange, turning it over in her hands. Careful of her own mechanically assisted strength. ”Yarloc wont give you trouble. And Forte should be used to it, eh?” No good of himself does a listener hear. Jazen and the pilot came down from the bridge, a strange incongruous association. One talked rather too much, the other too little. Locke-repellent, really? Her posture shifted, some approximation of coming to attention. Shine reiterated the opening stages of the plan and then departed. Which left Janus the lonely bush on the prairie, so to speak. Thirty minutes to go, no cover. ”I’ll watch the exit then, shall I?” Lidah muttered with a conspiratorial glance. She decamped to the connecting hall, waving Yarloc over to her. His back to the cargo bay – Lidah wanted to watch whatever happened, if nothing else. ”I really wish you’d have taken some armor, you know?” Her blue eyes flicked up and down, taking in the fiber mesh ensemble. It looked like it could tear. Though to be fair to him, armor plating could do the same. If subjected to sufficient stress.

[Stephen]

He looked up at Lidah and smiled inside his helmet. He shrugged his shoulders and said “Oh now you tell me. I thought we were going to one of those sex parties I keep hearing aboout.” He arced sideways and stared down as his boots for a moment. “All dressed up for the wrong shindig.”

He cocked his helmet to the side for a moment and continued. “I got like 30 pounds of battery packs and computers loaded into this back piece here.” He thumbed in the direction of his back. “Then I got all the standard gear, and your standard combat engineer set up as miniaturized as I could get it giving me anonther cool 28. Add on top of that the fact I never trained with armor in my life and I decided to go nano fiber. It's not too bad against heat, might give me one or two chances against a lightweight blaster. Pretty stab resistance and it locks down damaged sections to preserve the vacuum seal and prevent exsangunation.

She was right though, in truth. This could turn into a heavy combat mission and everyone knew that. Maybe he could do enough with his saber and luck to get through, but it was smarter to plan for failure of some kind. “You hit me with a kinetic burst, or some type of sonic grenade though, you gonna have to pour me out of this suit when you get me home.” He added lamely. It was an unfortunate trade off but the tech guy can't slow down the group on a smash and grab. Better to take the calculated risk for speed than linger too long and loose everything that way. He hoped at least.

[Rugs]

“Oh yes,” Locke said, smiling as he took Lidah’s helmet. After all, he wondered silently, what are we without war?

Lidah hesitated on her answer. Locke understood. They were walking into a firestorm, and that was without the complicated dynamics of this particular team. And she wasn’t wrong. Locke the Jedi had more experience leading strike teams than he cared to count.

And Tyrvast? Well, the Generalissimo was whatever Locke needed him to be at the time.

“Far as I’ve heard,” Locke said, voice accented just slightly as Tyrvast. “First time workin’ with him, though, so we’ll see.”

Jazen, speak of the devil, appeared a moment later, accompanied by the nice enough, if too-talkative, smuggler that’d brought the crew out this far. Jazen was wearing that suit of mock-mandalorian armor again, face hidden from the world as always. Locke slowly shook his head.

It was fitting, he supposed, in its own rueful way.

The smuggler, Shine, gave a quick briefing. It was a review of the plan they’d laid out and gone over time and time again on the way over, but a refresher before launch never hurt. Locke gave an acknowledging nod and a “Got it” as Shine departed.

That left the four of them alone, and with Lidah retreating to a hall, Janus in tow, Locke found himself in a room with Jazen. Alone.

For the first time in so many years.

Locke waited for a long moment, turning Lidah’s command helmet over in his hands, to see if Jazen would speak first. But his former student was long on silence, and Locke was short on patience.

“So, Kid,” he said, using the old nickname as he looked up to where he knew Jazen’s eyes were, “are we gonna talk about whatever this problem is, or keep awkwardly dancing around it like the Galaxy’s worst prom dates?”

[Jazen]

Back in the cockpit, Shine went about the process of mentally flipping all the switches and dials he'd need to bring the ship from almost flat cold to running hot in a second. It would put a strain on the ship, but it would get them to the point they needed to be at quick and hopefully before anyone started shooting back. Thankfully, the lady was paying a premium for this...and that was after they'd negotiated the price down from the original value. Whoever it was that crossed her, Shine made a mental note to never, ever, cross her.

Down in the hold, the cold silence that filled the now vacated place, a second ago filled with bodies and warmth, now left with two very quiet males, the tension in the air swallowing them whole. Threatening to bury them in it unless someone spoke and dug them out of it. Jazen was mutely watching Locke from behind his visor, the stoic device making any awkward staring a mute point.

Thankfully, Locke was the first to speak, at least in this situation and even though they'd been apart for years, Jazen could still pick up on the tones in his voice. The impatience in it with his former apprentice at this cold treatment. Jazen half bristled at that, half winced. And his plan had been to ignore it, to keep his silence locked in place...but beyond the hall, he could sense someone else was keeping an eye on the situation. Lidah. She was invested in the outcome of this argument as much as either of them would be...and he could sense the displeasure even from here.

Slowly, his helmet turned, just a little movement that centered it on Locke, but an indication he was listening. "Do not call me that. That "kid" is dead. Dead and abandoned by the same Order you still serve." There was bitterness in his tone, even as it was, as he continued. "Problem? I have no problem with you, Locke. I have a problem with the hypocritical organization that you are a part of...one I was once part of. The one that cast me aside like garbage the second someone outside of it called for my head, on a problem that had no winning answer. But did the Jedi back me, protect their own? No, they threw me out into the cold without a second glance...and where were you when they did it?"

Because Locke had not been there that day when Jazen had been expelled. Jazen knew he was on planet, because he could sense him but he hadn't seen his padawan off. And Jazen had felt betrayed at that, more then the Order casting him aside.

Unknown to him, of course, that the Order had wanted no contact, so no lingering could have been made. Not with the galaxy and the senator watching. "I can work "with" you sir...but don't expect me to hug you like old friends reuniting. Jazen, as you knew him, died that day. And Forte was born."

[Rugs]

Ah, so there was the heart of things. Locke listened as Jazen finally broke his silence. His eyes never left his former student’s helmet, nor did his facial expression change from one of earnest interest in what Jazen had to say.

Yet inwardly, he sighed. The whole affair with the bombing had been a messy one. Nothing Locke could do about it, and he’d been barred from investigating it in the aftermath. He’d lobbied against the decision to expel Jazen, even won some support, but in the end, he hadn’t been able to rally enough councilmen to his side to keep Jazen in the order.

It was regrettable, and barely a day went by that he didn’t wonder if there was something more he could have — should have — done to save his student’s standing.

But that was done, for the foreseeable future.

And while Locke understood Jazen’s pain, more closely than Jazen would likely ever know, he could not bear to see the boy willingly turn to what he had become.

”I don’t see cold,” Lidah had said of Jazen those few weeks ago, at Locke’s asking. “Angry maybe, or hurt. Wounded animal like.”

The different between man and animal though, was that man knew how to clean a wound to let it heal. Animals let them fester.

“Look, I get that you’re angry,” he started, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his thighs as he watched Jazen, “but if you need to start acting like a man if you want me to stop calling you ‘Kid.’”

“I’ll be the first to admit to you that what the Order did to you was wrong,” he said. “It was damn wrong. You want to know where I was?” Locke’s voice rose slightly, but stayed below a yell. “I was fighting my ass off trying to save your spot in the Order because I knew it’d be doing you wrong to kick you away for something that wasn’t your fault.

“But I lost,” he went on, as sorrow softened his expression and his words. “We lost. Is it fair? No. It’s not. But that’s life, Kid. It’s hard, and sometimes you get the shit end of it and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Locke sighed. He was surprised by his own words, by his own frustration at himself, the Council, his bullheaded student — at everything — that’d come bubbling to the surface.

“So what do we do when life kicks us in the face?” he asked, quieter. “We can pick ourselves up and keep going. Or we can say we’ve ‘died’ and been replaced by some fictional other and go hiding our face from the world behind a metal suit that makes us feel powerful while we do the whole ‘colder than ice, harder than steel act.’

“Because I don’t know who this ’Forte’ is, but let me tell him something about Jazen Solari. The Jazen I knew was a whole lot stronger than this,” he motioned at Jazen’s figure in general. “And I know he’s still there, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

[Jazen]

All of which had been kept from Jazen. He had felt abandoned in every way and to add to the despair he felt, Elys had been there that day. She had been part of the group the senator's son had been with. Thus Jazen's choice was twice as hard and why he had tried to do what he could to save both. The innocent's, because he knew that's what she would have wanted him to do...and them, because she was there. They never found her body but...

So he had been alone, cut off and then expelled. To say the bitterness clung was an over statement.

Bitterness that had faded over time, till Locke's arrival had brought it surging back up like a raging fire suddenly dosed in fuel.

"I am an adult. I have not thought about this matter for years, till you showed up at the wrong time. Like an ugly wound that healed, only to be reopened by the memory."

Hearing that Locke had fought for him stung like a whip, but the helmeted vise didn't falter. The bitterness was there but if Locke was paying attention, there was something lacking behind it; rage. At least, rage directed at him. It had been there, at first, then faded over the years are new things beat it down and sent it away. If there was any anger left in him, it wasn't Locke's reappearance that had triggered it...but the memory of how he had been wronged for nothing. "It WAS my fault. I should have been better, faster, smarter. I don't take back that a mistake was made in an impossible situation. But to be expelled on the word of someone not of the Order...that I hated. Hated as much as I hated my old Master for betraying me in his lust for power."

He rose to his feet, an intimidating sight to anyone else no doubt, but he wasn't trying to intimidate Locke. He wasn't that stupid. "And you know the difference between me and anyone else who gets expelled? They had a home, family in most cases. They had some place to go. I had "nothing". No memory of who I was before the Order and not a clue what to do. The Order "was" my life...and I had lost it. I lost /everything/. You still had the Order, your friends in it. I was labeled and pushed away."

Tension in him at his name, gloves gripping tight for a moment before something no doubt that surprised even Locke. The anger faded, slowly, still there beneath, a wound not easily healed. But it didn't control him. And the knowledge that Locke had tried, something he didn't have before, softened the loss he had felt. The helmet covered it, but it didn't hide the slow drip of fluid that managed to escape beneath. "Jazen did die that day. At least, parts of him. And this suit? I don't hide behind it...its my birthright."

"I found my family, thanks to Lidah. And this...this is the closest I'll ever get to being a part of what they were." He said from behind the suit that covered him. "Jazen wasn't cut out for the world Lidah lives in. Yes, he's still there, parts of him parts you trained. But to survive her world, I had to become Forte. Because Forte is a sword...and if that name you use for yourself is any indication, you know what it means to be someone else for something." Tension slightly faded, enough anyway.

A hand out. "I can't be the same person you want me to be, not anymore. Not with the things I've done to survive out here. But I can try to be...less cold, I suppose. For now, to start. Deal?"

[Rugs]

An extended hand. An offer to change, even if just slightly.

Locke studied Jazen’s gloved hand for a short moment. He still sat as he had been — leaning slightly forward, forearms resting on thighs. In truth, the former Jedi’s answer was dissatisfying. Locke never asked for Jazen to go back to being exactly the man he had been — only that he be better than the facade he put up now.

It was something that Vance, with hardships that far outstripped those Jazen had faced, could manage. He hoped that one day his old student would find the same inner strength that Vance had. Whatever the case, arguing in circles right now wouldn't solve anything. Not when they needed to work together on this mission.

It was a start, Locke supposed. Even the deepest winters eventually thawed, and he suspected Jazen would be no difference.

“Fair enough,” he said, taking Jazen’s hand after only a moment’s passage. “But don’t think I won’t get onto you if I see you acting a fool.” He stood, offering a smile. “That’s my right, whether you like it or not.”

Enough time wasted. Time to get on with the mission. Locke scooped the command helmet up. “Oh by the way,” he said, casually as he started to turn, “do be careful with the whole ‘birthright’ thing around the Mandalorian. I get the sense he doesn’t take kindly to it.”

Jazen could do what he wanted, of course, and Jayec genuinely seemed nice enough, and incredibly competent. But Locke wasn’t about to fight that battle between those two.

With the conversation done, Locke walked over to Lidah, to whom he shot a glance that seemed to say What can ya do?

“Guess it’s about time to get this show on the road, then?” he asked as he started to put his helmet on.

[Neology]

”The suit compensates for the weight, a bit. Maybe next time.” Lidah eyed the assorted tech weighing Janus down. It seemed like a lot. Admittedly, she lacked the technical education and expertise to judge beyond the obvious. His jokes slid off her without much in the way of comment either, just an insincere smile and the faintly alarmed drawing-down of her eyebrows. I don’t want to pour any of you out of anything ... Her thoughts and senses both wandered, in different directions. Flaws in the armor. A force adept augmenting their strength and speed might strip the microservos in their hardsuit. Then all that extra weight would truly be carried on their back, with the rest of that gear. The outer shell was static-resistant but any Force lightning called up by the wearer played havoc on the internal systems. That problem was perhaps hers alone, in this company. Lidah rubbed her thumb over scuffed finger pads, feeling nothing but a slightly unpleasant drag. That had been an educational discovery. Then there was the drama unfolding down the hall, bonfire bright against the sterile backdrop of empty space. Fine-tuned for the oppressive closeness of Nar Shaddaa, she could not fully ignore it. When Locke’s voice rose, words distinct enough to pick out from this vantage, Lidah gave up. If they’d wanted this to be private, it should have been handled weeks ago at the Eye. She gave Janus an apologetic shrug and turned her attention inward-outward in earnest. What could Jazen have said, anyway? Something about his exile, obviously, but … Locke possessed forgiveness in such abundance. Enough for the personal hurts she had dealt him. Enough for her billion dead at Taris. Lidah heard the rest, teeth set in a blood drained grimace. No Jedi ever had a place to go after the Order – that was rather the point of recruiting children too young to remember, to have made attachments. Her confidence and those years of hurtful secrecy then made so little of. With jerky movements, she thumbed the cowl over her hair and ears, tracing the hairline to make sure nothing escaped – hard to tell with the gauntlets. She pulled out several strands of long white hair in the process, swearing sharply to herself. ”Yes. About.” Returning Locke’s glance, equal parts dejected and searching, Lidah pulled on her own helmet. A flashing light in the corner of her vision alerted her to a waiting message. Locke’s voice, going through an unlikely list of code names. Well. She could see where ‘Bubbles’ and ‘Stranger’ came from. Less so the others. ”What even is a chinois?” They were cutting it awful close, according to the helmet’s synchronized chrono. Looking brief askance at Locke, she about-faced and headed for the bridge.

[Stephen]

“I think it's a sieve of some kind.” Janus wasn't entirely sure either. He was just a little to desperate to get moving so he wouldn't have to fill the silence with useless banter. Once the mission was underway it would be so much easier. Each problem would have perhaps one or two solutions, and he wasn't even the squad leader. Find the issue, find the fix, keep moving. These moments between of dead air and awkward nonsense killed him. Still it was easy enough to start a fight out of pure nerves. Tyrvast and Jazen were proving that nicely so stammering out a few bad jokes never hurt. Sure he looked the occasional fool but it was almost automatic. Better to drag a goat to the altar rather than suffer for lack of rain.

That being said, Janus was belted in. He had checked his equipment multiple times and was beyond the ready point. The view of the station from afar confirmed very little. It was a habitation and agricultural modular station. The Hutts hammered these out as a cheap solution to food shortages on mining colonies and largely they worked fine. The durasteel exterior largely tended to give way to plasteel once you were past the outer walls. They were notorious for for being durable in every part that truly mattered and being absolute trash in every other aspect. Often time they were gaudy and bizarre on the inside as new sections were replaced haphazardly with whatever aftermarket replacements could be found on the cheap. But the modular design made the continued maintenance quick and easy. The minimalist design even extended to set up, only requiring a few light frigates to set up the initial anchorage in orbit. Janus was well familiar with them, and already could smell the slightly over zealously filtered air.

---

Just as they finished their approach to the docking bay and were sliding silently into the station a arc of blue white light slashed out in a perfect circle from the station, followed by a solid sphere of the same. The pulsing energy washed over both ships, devastating all electronics within. The magnetic locks keeping the bay doors closed give way, and they slammed shut. The ship careened into the wall of the docking bay with a violent thud. Slowly personal electronics recovered with lurches of unsteady power. An uneasy sense of inertia attacks you for just a moment as the ship and station artificial gravity fails. It is replaced by an uneasy silence and darkness.

Welcome to Agri Station 226

[Jazen]

All new beginnings had to start somewhere and expecting Jazen to change completely after all he'd been through the last five years, at least in the snap snap kind of hope Locke had, was a bit foolish. So, a start, today, would have to do. Jazen shook his former master's hand and then refocused himself. They had a mission to do and it required not a former padawan with identity issues. It required Forte and so his armor hardened again for the mission on hand. "Says the fool whose been drooling every time she walks into the room." He said over the Force, a connection between them that was never really broken. Of course...he might have been jesting a little.

"Him? I care about as much for his opinion as I do the Order's at this point. My uncle, whose as much a Mandalorian as he is, helped me make this armor. It may not be "true" armor, in the materials that make it up, but that was our mutual acknowledgement that I'd never be a full Mando'ae. But I earned this and that right. He can shove his head up his exhauster port for all I care on that matter."

While the others finished prepping, he made sure his suit was properly sealed, made sure all his weapons were secure, his pack fueled and ready. Everything checked out to safe levels and all his gear was ready, so he turned to look at Lidah and Janus, his head tilting forward just enough to indicate he was ready, to acknowledge them. The one to Lidah might have been a bit deeper, but that's what one does to one's master.

The sudden pulse that seemed to knock out everything caught them all off guard, although there was that brief warning pulse in the Force that something was amiss. From the cockpit, Shine let out a string of curses that Corellia seemed to produce as he struggled with the now lifeless ship. Vis was protected to a degree against such things, but he was struggling to counter it himself. Shine braced as they crashed into the wall and bounced off it, thank god his ship was meant to take a hit like that. Mostly. Then everything started flicking to life again, slowly, like a drunk man rising after a long night, trying to get everything back in functioning order.

"Son of a Corellian space monkey duck sithspawn! Vis, check the damage out and then route any offline power to something that can give it something. That EMP seems to have damaged a few parts on board, checking now. Shields are good and life support at least...engines and controls are a bit iffy" Shine paused, then commed to the folks in the back. "Looks like this is your stop boys and girls. That pulse damaged some of the ship's systems and we're not gonna be able to jet out of here till they're running. So do be some lovely guests and go do your mission, which will hopefully distract the others enough not to poke us till we're done. Good luck!" Then he turned back to the task of getting everything up and running. Dying wasn't part of the plan today.

In back, Jazen had already unharnessed himself, testing the others with the Force for signs of trouble. He seemed fine...the armor was useful for taking heavy hits like that. "Guess the Unseen are better at pulling off tricks then expected. I agree with the captain however...we're sitting ducks here at the moment. What are the chances they used the pulse to knock out the others and we just got caught in the cross hairs?" He didn't sense anyone out there in the docking bay...which would make sense. They had just used an EMP. Wouldn't want to be in there when stuff went out. "Plan of attack?" He said, glancing to Lidah, who was the boss, more or less.

[Rugs]

”What even is a chinois?”

Lidah’s words digitized for a moment as the suit sealed itself and its internal systems activated. Next he knew, Locke was hearing the sounds of the ship through the suit’s aural sensors.

“Stranger here’s mostly right,” he said, his voice taking a slightly filtered tone through the suit’s vocal projectors. “You use it to strain stuff.” A moment’s pause. Too bad his helmet hid his sheepish smile. Locke made up for it with an over-exaggerated shrug and a nod toward Jazen. “I thought we were going with a kitchen theme at first, y’see...”

A high-pitched whining in his ear preceded the sudden darkness as the EMP swept over the ship.

The lights flickered out in the cabin and Locke’s stomach suddenly lurching told him the ship was tumbling in a direction it hadn’t been previously. A loud thud accompanied their landing as he staggered into the wall with a swear against his suit’s now-unassisted weight.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled as he pushed himself from the wall. The suit was heavier now — it felt like moving against the weight of water at the bottom of a pool, rather than the natural movements of a few moments earlier.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on and on, the suit’s HUD flickered back to life, as the system checked itself. All systems functional.

Thank the Force Lidah had gotten the hardened suits to protect against electronic warfare. A brief outage could be trouble enough in the wrong spot, but if the EMP had knocked everything out, that would be devastating to the mission.

Shine came back from the front to give a status report on the ship. Basically, it was fucked until he found a way to get it un-fucked.

Locke sincerely hoped he could do that, are they’d be hitching a ride back on the Mandalorian’s ship. Assuming it still worked.

“They’re exactly as tricky as I remember,” Locke said as he pushed himself from the wall. No worse for wear, other than some annoyance. “How are we doing? Everyone alright?”

To Jazen’s question, Locke glanced at Lidah--though he mentally kicked himself when he remembered that facial expressions wouldn’t do any good under his helmet’s reflective visor. She had given him charge of the mission, after all.

“First order of business should be checking our surroundings,” he said. “Make sure this bay is secure — cause a dead pilot won’t be getting us back outta here. Then get an idea of where the hell we are and where we’re going from here.”

He checked his equipment. His two lightsabers were quite securely attached to his suit, as a was a heavy blaster pistol. A utility belt held some supplies, but not as much as Janus was carrying.

Locke strolled to the panel to open the boarding ramp so they could get out. “Let’s get to it.”

[Neology]

”Ah. I do see.” Obviously, she’d missed a little something, somewhere. All further thought on the subject fled abruptly as blueish light washed over the view ports. The speakers in her helmet crackled ominously and went silent. The darkness was sudden and intense. No warning indicators, nothing of the ship itself. No running lights on the station. Lidah held on to the back of the empty co-pilot’s seat, watching the dizzy view of stars and black space rapidly clipped away. Shine’s swearing and a metallic shrieking were both strangely muffled by her helmet. Slowly, amber lights came back up in the corner of her vision, one after another. Directional sound coming back in was almost as disorienting as its momentary loss. ”Ducks, really? I’ve known Jedi with dirtier mouths, pilot. You can just say ‘fuck.’” Lidah let go of the chair, experimentally. Life support did indeed seem back. Rapidly tapping at her wrist computer, she magnetized her boots just the same. ”Good luck to you, too. Hey, borrow a tech from Shield if you get the chance?” Lidah rejoined the others a moment later, acknowledging Jazen’s nod and question with a slight jerk of her head. ”’Chinois’ is taking the lead for this one. I would have told you earlier but … Well.” She made a quick negative gesture and rolled her shoulders. Now that Lidah knew for certain that they were caught in a trap, she felt strangely better about the situation. They weren’t chasing ghosts, or figments of her overactive imagination. And there was only one direction to go from here, at least until one of the ships got working. Lidah started down the ramp, one lightsaber hilt in hand. The docking bay was dark and silent and curiously dead, emptied out – not even the utility and maintenance craft. Eerie, the space was obviously built to a larger scale than that of the light freighter they came in on. A queasy feeling in her stomach told her that the artificial gravity was out, too. ”I don’t … Sense anyone?” Lidah thought aloud, bemused. At the other end of the vast space was a clear plastic security booth, unmanned. Her suit read the external temperature as comfortable but dropping slowly, the air safe to breathe. Strange, to have an automated weapon that the station wasn't shielded against.

[Stephen]

Janus waited for the ship to settle before he unbuckled himself from his seat a floated just above it. The heavy armor gave leeway for gravity boots, but with his suit he'd just have to make due. Luckly he was well equipped to deal with personal propulsion. Still Floating in the air his arm shot in the air above him, fingertips dragging the ceiling. “Mr Chinois!” he blurted nasally, “Bubbles said a bad word.” He turned his head down so that his now untinted visor wouldn't show his stupid grin. In an overloud whisper he finished “Is this why the ship is broke?”

They were about 20 second into their mission and already wildly off script, who knew what team two were up to, and they'd have to affect some type of forced entry from the docking bay forward. It would be easy to get foul and start in at this point, and entirely unhelpful. Better still to laugh at the weird guy in the weird suit and continue on. He floated out of the ship and into the docking bay silently hoping his suit would turn back on..

The docking bay was dread quiet and deep dark. With a slap to the helmet, twin lights flickered to life on either side of his helmet. The bare durasteel walls were lit lusterless grey as Janus panned his vision across the room. Dust and grime floated freely across his vision no longer compelled to hide in the deep crevices. Eventually Janus found what he was looking for : A small security station was the only real option so it was his choice. It looks like they had overshot the boarding ramp by about a good 30 yards. Janus kicked off the ship hull and floated toward the small room.

Janus gave two feather-touches of force to keep him on target, and one more to pass entirely through the hazardous goods detection arch that would be assuredly going ballistic had this not gone to shit at first asking. He thudded into security room door with a dull thud inside his suit. He glanced at the lock for a moment. If the system was on, there were a couple ways past the triple dead bolt, but without it, and without all of Janus' systems recovered, he'd have to try something else. He put his hand palm first to the door and began tapping his middle finger against it in a slow rhythm feeling the vibrations through the force and mapping out the inner workings of the lock. Slowly, gently, he tugged the deadbolts back through their tracks harmlessly until the door was free. He turned the handle and opened a inch before quietly saying “Alright, one door down.” over his shoulder.

[Jazen]

"Aside from being slightly annoyed we walked into a trap, I'm alright." Was Jazen's reply to Locke's inquiry about injuries. The Force, in all its wisdom, had given a brief warning of danger before the blast, so Jazen had managed to brace himself for the sudden lose of control and increased weight. Being strapped in had helped, that was for sure.

With power returning, Jazen glanced briefly to Lidah as she mentioned Locke was in charge of the mission. The hair on his neck rose a little but he quickly stamped that out; he had agreed to try his best to put that behind him. Where else but now, in this ideal situation for it, should he begin? His head turned briefly to Locke, studying him, before he gave a simple nod. "Understood. Recon it is."

With gravity no longer affecting them, Jazen followed Stranger, Janus, out of the ship. Where Janus went forward towards a security door, Jazen pushed up, into the darkness above. Becoming little more than another shadow in that deep dark that lingered over the entire room. Silence for a long moment from him before his voice came back clear over their internal comm network. "Im not seeing any heat sources within the room itself. We are, it seems, alone in here. Nothing tingling in the back of my neck either. Perhaps they had hoped the crash would be more effective. Credit to the smuggler's ship...it can take a heavy hit."

His helmet swept the room, marking any and all ways in and out. A couple of doors, here and there, but only the security station seemed a sure way in or out. "Its possible that, perhaps, the EMP was designed to deal with the outer areas. What easier way to deal with invading attackers then to kill them at the gate, while the rest of their soldiers stayed safe inside. The inner areas might be properly shielded against whatever hit us."

There was a brief update from Shine's droid, Vistal. The ship was still buggered, but its sensors were working just fine. ANd there was power beyond the bays. That was for sure.

His eyes turned to where Janus was, eyeing the security door carefully as the man pulled it open. He had no weapons in his hand, but Jazen knew he could draw any of his in a spilt second if trouble appeared. Kicking off the roof, he floated over to Janus and the door, hovering just outside it in a typical, effective, position to breach suddenly. "I don't like it...too narrow. If there's trouble on the other side, we're sitting ducks." He looked towards the approaching Locke and Lidah. "Shall I go first and clear the way, or would you prefer to Chinos?"

[Rugs]

The docking bay was disturbingly quiet. His aural sensors didn’t pick up anything, save the occasionally moving or talking of his teammates. Locke frowned slightly as he clank, clonked his way down the smuggler ship’s boarding ramp, with the magnetic grip of his suit’s boots keeping him from floating up into the bay.

“I don’t either,” he said to Lidah as Janus pushed ahead to the security booth’s door and Jazen took a look at the area as a whole from above. “Not a soul, other than the others.” Jayec’s team was faint, but noticeable off somewhere in the distance. Too far to be immediately useful if they ran into trouble, but that was the point, wasn't’t it? The distraction wouldn’t do much good right next to the quiet team.

“That’s odd.” Janus got the door open. It apart with groans of protest, as if it hadn’t been properly cared for in some time. Locke’s brow furrowed. “It feels as if no one’s here, but you don’t roll out of an EMP like that if you’re not expecting guests.”

Lock signaled for Jazen to take the lead, and fell in behind them. The dim corridor before them stretched out for a few meters, then curved off deeper into the station. A few lifeless turbolifts lined the right side of the walls. Dust, lit as floating motes as it wandered aimlessly in front of the lights on Locke’s helmet,filled the air.

“Either this place is abandoned or something’s gone to shit here,” he started.

Before he could say more, something whirred in the distance. The corridor’s lights flickered weakly on in an advancing line from further in the station.

“Auxiliary power restored,” a robotic, feminine voice declared over the station’s speakers. “Emergency protocol initiated. Deploying security forces. Please remain in a safe location until emergency protocol is completed.”

“Oh hey that sounds good,” Locke said loudly and sarcastically.

“Welcome to Agri Station 226.”

[Neology]

”Nice trick.” Lidah watched Janus pick the lock on the door, grinning appreciatively behind her helmet’s tinted visor. Limited applications – it obviously wouldn’t work on a powered lock – but say, if you engineered the outage yourself … ”Must have a devious mind in there after all, Stranger. Never would have guessed.” True enough. She didn’t know exactly why Mr. Yarloc was willing enough to take her credits on missions like this. The real core of his business was based on Corellia. A moral and physical chasm between here and there. But Lidah wasn’t complaining. Good, capable help and personalities she could tolerate so rarely intersected. The others bounced around theories as they walked. She found herself disinclined to join the speculation outloud, too many theories competing inside her head. Botto the Hutt’s doomed attack. A lead as thin and intangible as spider silk. The EMP pulse on arrival and this place itself pinning them in one spot. Layers of death, one after another, but lacking something. There had always been a personal touch with the Unseen. This station felt sterile by comparison. Lidah flinched half a step back as the lights came on. Automatic failsafe or … What else? Someone they couldn’t sense, there to oversee engineering by themselves? She ducked her head briefly into one of the side rooms, a cramped little office filled with packaging materials and worthless personal detritus. The desk was gutted, peeling wooden veneer and dangling clipped cables. Only a very outdated comlink remained, little red lights flashing to indicate missed calls and a corrupted memory stick. Lidah rejoined the others, shaking her head. ”I don't know. That message has got to be way out of date, since it seems like they were thorough scrapping this place.” She shrugged. "Who would take the computers but leave good security droids?"