Coming in on a Wing and a Prayer (Open to DLA)

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Space

Nom Jervada sat up in bed a little too fast at the sound of the klaxon and hit his head on the low clearance above him. He muttered a curse as he rubbed the injury. He’d been unable to get used to these Navy bunks. The swabbies had to make due with what were essentially a series of stacked shelves built into the bulkhead. And what the Navy had to live with, so did his detachment of soldiers from the Toprawa Defense Forces. They’d been struggling to adapt to life onboard the Drolar Thel. The Republic capital ship was massive, much bigger than any of the aging ships in the TDF. But the Republic Navy was short-handed, and their Army even more so. And they’d been expecting to see some nasty conflict on this mission. Conflict which had come too soon.

General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill.

The warning brought him into full wakefulness, and he slid out from the bunk. This time he avoided striking his head on it.

Immediately he rifled through his footlocker, grabbing his uniform and pulling it on. It was the light militia armor issued en masse to third-rate military formations like the Toprawa Defense Forces. It would stop a blaster shot from frying you like an egg. Depending on the blaster. And the kind of egg. Its bigger use was pockets. Lots of pockets to hold things. A lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a few photos, some cash. Things like that.

He pulled on his boots and fastened the web belt and holster around his waist before grabbing his medkit. Even medics were allowed to have sidearms. It was mostly a formality for him. He was a pretty bad shot.

The others were all up and dressed now too, and they stood nervously in the room clutching blaster rifles. The normal crew of the Drolar Thel were a well-oiled machine, and the TDF troopers knew they were simply in the way. Unless there were borders, in which case they’d have the dubious honor of being cannon fodder against the Sith. The Republic was so desperate for warm bodies they’d started to borrow troops from planetary defense forces. It didn’t inspire confidence.

And they’d been chronically uninformed. The Colonel in charge of the TDF troopers had been royally pissed when he learned his Regiment was being split between ten ships. The staff officers were spread pretty thin, and the Major in charge of his company was relegated to an advisory role for some Republic swabbie they had in charge. No one was happy with the situation. And no one was informed.

At that very moment the ship shuddered and it became apparent they were taking fire. A lot of fire.

Impact upon impact shook the ship, and the wail of klaxons was a constant din. Flashing red warning lights accompanied the experience that seemed interminable. But at last with another shudder, the impacts ceased.

“I think we just went to hyperspace…”

“Does that mean the battle’s over?”

No one could agree on that point.

---

Three hours later they were all sitting on the deck, still armored and geared up. They’d never been given a command to stand-down, so they’d simply remained in a half-alert state of tense boredom. ‘Hurry up and wait.’

The ship vibrated slightly again, a sign they were coming out of hyperspace…

And once again the impact of turbolasers could be felt shaking the ship mercilessly. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before, which probably meant they were facing fewer ships. But it was all total guesswork on the part of the soldiers.

They had no way of knowing their strike force had been pulled out of hyperspace by a Sith fleet’s interdictor cruisers, beaten savagely, then scattered after the interdictors were crippled. At the moment the Drolar Thel was pulling into orbit of Dantooine, engaging in broadsides with a pair of Sith cruisers. The Republic ship didn’t have long to live, systems were starting to fail. Structural integrity was compromised, there were hull breaches. They’d managed to give the Sith a bloody nose, but they couldn’t win.

---

Captain Nerethi of the Drolar Thel stood in the center of the bridge, watching sparking consoles and the bodies of his crew unfortunate enough to be manning them when they’d overloaded.

“Starboard batteries reporting only 10% of guns still functional. Structural integrity at 35% and falling, casualties reported on all decks, decks one to five breached…”

Nerethi held up a hand to stop the report. It was beyond any use. Nothing would save his ship. Instead, he activated the internal comm. system.

---

“All hands abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship.”

“All right, move, move, move! Step lively, orderly lines to the escape pods. Nobody gets left behind!” The Sergeants took charge, directing the men out the corridor and into escape pods in mass chaos with a semblance of order.

Nom Jervada worked his way into one of the escape pods, squeezing into a seat just before the door hissed shut behind him. Feverishly he worked to find the straps and fasten them as the pod left with a jolt.

He looked out the window in the door at the Drolar Thel hanging in the blackness of space. Beam after beam of red light hit it, and in eerie silence the ship cracked in two.

Sith fire continued to hit it. And not just it, other escape pods were vanishing in explosions.

Jervada stared in disbelief as the crippled, dead ship was blown into tiny bits with most of its crew still on it. Hundreds, and hundreds of lives snuffed out. And just thirty seconds more and his would have been one.

A fiery glow appeared at the edges of the window, and at first he thought they’d been hit somehow. But then he realized it was atmospheric reentry, though to what planet he didn’t know.

Vaguely he realized he should brace himself for the landing. He did, hoping the helmet to his armor was good for more than just show. And before he could think of anything else, there was a jolt and blackness took him.

Some time later on Dantooine

Nom’s eyelids fluttered, and he started to cough. The interior of the escape pod was starting to fill with smoke of some kind.

The medic detached his crash webbing, grabbed the pod’s medical kit and added it to his own, then pried off the pod’s door, taking in gulps of fresh air and looking around. He could tell it was a green enough world, and for the moment that was all he needed to know.

He directed his attention to the other occupants. They hadn’t fared well. Some were obviously dead, torn up by loose debris. Others lay at unnatural angles. But no matter how unlikely the case, the medic checked for a pulse. Two of them were still alive.

He drew the combat knife from its place on his calf and cut the straps of their crash webbing. Then he grabbed each man under the arm and dragged him out into the fresh air and grass of the planet.

He started to size up their injuries, carrying out a quick triage the way he’d learned to. One had a head injury of some sort and was completely out of it. The other had a piece of shrapnel embedded in his chest.

That was the sort of injury you didn’t learn much about in school. Pulling out shards of metal from someone’s torso with nothing but a field medkit. Slapping on a patch over the wounds, working to stabilize the injury. It took long minutes, but he was fairly certain the man would live by the end of them.

And then he started to look around again. Rolling hills, tall grasses, trees. It was really quite peaceful. Rina would have liked it and-

Rina. Nom’s eyes widened as he thought of the girl he loved dearly. She was on his list of next-of-kin along with his parents and brother. And that meant she’d get a letter too. Rina’attuna, we regret to inform you that…

Oh god no… please…

Nom sat back on the hillside dejectedly. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out one of his treasured possessions, a photo of Rina. She was like an angel, sweet features and deep blue eyes that complimented her sky blue skin. He could imagine the tears forming in those very eyes. And it broke his heart.

He only realized they were in his eyes too when a teardrop fell onto the picture. He cradled it close to his heart and rocked back and forth, wishing she was there. Or wishing that he’d never signed his life away. She’d promised to wait for him. But could she now? Would the Republic tell her he was dead? Or would he just be forever listed as Missing in Action? And did he have any right to hope she’d wait for him now? Lost and presumed dead on some unknown world, surrounded by Sith with the very real chance he’d die anyway…

Nom felt very small suddenly. And very alone. All he could think of was his last day on Naboo with Rina.

They’d sat at the Royal Naboo School of Medicine’s Theed Campus, well after the school year was over. Apart from the occasional prospective student visiting, they were totally alone in one of the most romantic places in the galaxy. Walking along hand-in-hand together through the streets… Sitting there overlooking a river from a terrace, with his arm around Rina’s shoulders and her head leaned against his chest… everything had seemed right with the universe.

They both had known it couldn’t last. That moment had to end. Neither had wanted it to, but Nom had signed away his life. He had a fixed date for his entry to training. He’d tried to explain to her why it was he had to join. It wasn’t simply a matter of fighting for the Republic or even for home. It was more. To anyone who ever took a course in galactic history, the very name ‘Sith’ was evil. Anyone who would take that mantle would unleash the kind of misery on the galaxy that no one deserved. Toprawa, Ryloth, or Naboo; all would fall victim to a Sith Empire if it wasn’t stopped.

He’d joined on some idiotic noble crusade. It had taken him away from Rina. And now she was going to have her heart broken. Quickly, on the spur of the moment, Nom reached into his kit and pulled out the paper and pencil he used for writing. He scrawled out a quick note.

If I am killed in action, please tell Rina’attuna at the Royal Naboo School of Medicine that I love her. Let her know I never stopped thinking of her, and tell her she was right.

Nom folded the note up and tucked it into the pocket with her picture, the one next to his heart.

He pulled himself together and stared off at the horizon. A dark shape was skimming along the ground, coming closer and closer. He could tell it was a speeder of some sort, but had no idea what kind. Until he knew he was going to play it safe. He grabbed his kit and concealed himself in the tall grass on the hillside, smoothing it around him so as to leave no indicator he was there. He’d been paying attention in fieldcraft courses.

After several minutes, the speeder resolved itself into a large armored shape that lumbered to a stop at the crash site. A hatch opened, and out climbed a squad of armored Sith troopers. Quickly they secured the site, motioning for someone to exit the vehicle. An officer of sorts appeared, clad in a uniform rather than armor. He had a nasty looking blaster on his belt and a cruel smile. He walked over to the injured men lying on the ground.

Without an ounce of remorse he drew his blaster and shot them both in the head. He returned the weapon to his belt and said something to the troopers. One nodded and climbed up to the pod. He pointed his weapon in and fired off a half-dozen shots. Then he nodded to the officer. They all climbed back into the armored speeder and left.

Nom was totally alone, stuck behind enemy lines, and presumed dead. There was no way for his life to get worse. He just hoped something would come along to make it better.

He stared at the corpses of the men he’d saved only to lose again, and with a shaky hand he pulled out a tabac cigarette and lit it. He inhaled the smoke and hoped it would calm his nerves the way it always did.

[Meira]

"Mo... hang on a second..."

Those words, spoken by Glitch had caused the DLA's head scout to pause at the door to the command room. She turned back, one had moving her raven black hair back and tucking it behind her ear. Glitch was turned away, her face craned into her bank of monitors. All the readouts and displays were gibberish to the Mirialan woman, but Glitch could read them all like a children's book.

"There's something..." Glitch raised her had to hold her headset, pushing it in on her ear. Her other hand moved along a series of switches and knobs. "There!" Glitch pulled the headset off and flipped a switch. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of static and frantic voices. She'd tapped into some communications. But Mo couldn't make sense of it. It was full of number codes and so much static.

"What is it?" Mo asked, moving in closer to stand by Glitch's chair. The woman was still at work, trying to clean up the signal. She improved it some, but it was still hard for Mo to understand. When Glitch's expectant eyes were met by a blank stare, the woman rolled her head in a gesture of annoyance.

"It's a Republic ship! The Sith just knocked it out of hyperspace... they're all kinds of busted up. Escape pods are pouring out of it."

Mo turned toward the monitors, though she had no idea what she was looking at. "Where? Show me." Glitch pulled up a radar. A massive cloud of red and orange filled one portion. "Those are the big ships and debris." She said, pointing. "These lines here are the escape pods. They'll be breaking atmo soon."

"Can you track them?" Mo's features had become more stern. She was already mentally working the situation out.

"Can I... ??" Glitch looked offended. "Does Tiny's breath stink?! Go do your job and I'll do mine, yeah?" Mo couldn't help but smile at the woman.

"Tell Al, he'll get a team ready. Let him know I'm gonna go out ahead to scout it out." Mo was already half way out the door when Glitch shouted out that she'd be sending her the projected landing sites as soon as she had them mapped.

---

It turned out that only one of the pods landed anywhere near the DLA's range. When Mo arrived at the site, there seemed to have been no activity. But she remained cautious. Parking her speeder bike a fair distance away under cover of trees and brush, she continued to the site on foot. She kept well hidden as she scoped out the site. Glitch had informed her that the Sith patrols were out in full force looking for the pods. Now was not a time to be foolhardy.

But sitting in the shadows and branches wasn't exactly the best course of action either. Mo had resolved to moving in and checking out the crashed pod when a hatch suddenly opened. She settled back down into her hiding place and watched, waiting to see what happened.

The figure that emerged didn't seem all that much like a soldier. His actions soon revealed why. He was a medic. Mo observed as he attempted to patch up some of his comrades. Again, she was about to move in when Glitch's voice filled her ear.

"Sith Patrol, right on you!"

"I see them." Mo said. She pulled her bow off her shoulder and slowly and pulled a special arrow from her quiver. The patrol was coming in fast. If that medic didn't... But then he heard them and got out of sight quick enough. Mo watched with a slight measure of approval as the medic hid himself, right below the branches where she was currently perched, actually.

The patrol came in and did their work with gruesome precision. It was a hard thing for the woman to watch, but she dared not give away her position. The team wasn't there yet. She was well outnumbered and out gunned. Even if she managed to land the precise hit needed for her arrow to be effective, there was no way she could take them all out. This was the hardest part of their war; having to know the limits of their abilities and abide by them, even if it meant the loss of lives.

Soon the patrol was gone and Mo waited in the silence. They had a nasty habit of leaving, and then suddenly coming back. She wouldn't take the chance. She would wait until the rest of the team arrived.

Just as she made this decision, a change in the scent of the air caught her attention. Looking down, Mo found the source. The medic had lit up a cig. The smoke danced upward in a long gray ribbon. Mo rolled her eyes. A medic, of all people.... well, maybe he and Al would get along.

Warily, Mo returned the arrow to her quiver, then slung her bow back over her shoulder before lowering herself down to the lower branches of the tree. She did this in practiced silence. Then, when she was poised just over the man, she let out a quick pssst!.

When the medic finally spotted her, she raised two fingers, touched them to her eyebrow and then moved them out in a sort of lazy salute. "Those things'll kill ya. Y'know that, right?"

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Nom Jervada folded away the picture of Rina into his breast pocket where it lived and sighed as he took a drag of the cigarette. The tabac was reassuring, and he needed something for his nerves. The planet was peaceful. Or would have been peaceful if not for what he'd just witnessed. He was going

The medic heard a noise coming from above him and turned to look.

Nom just about jumped out of his boots as he saw the Mirialan woman right above him. He rebuked himself for being so careless. His face was stony as he held his open hands up by his side, palms out to show his hands were empty and nowhere near the blaster pistol strapped to his hip.

He had no idea if the woman was a friend or an enemy. All he knew was that she hadn't killed him already. But she'd certainly had the opportunity, and he wasn't going to give her an excuse to now.

But somehow he doubted she was an enemy. Her demeanor was far too relaxed, and she was joking with him. Her blue eyes didn't convey malice at all. He didn't feel threatened.

In fact he felt a little silly for sticking his hands up in the air. He lowered them again and resumed smoking his cigarette.

"We- uh, we all have our guilty pleasures. By the way, my name's Nom, I'm a medic with the Republic fleet. Who are you? Are you a friend or an enemy? And how long have you been there anyway?" He asked uncertainly, trying to sound at ease but noticing his hand was shaking again. He'd just spent a considerable amount of time crying like a little girl over a picture of his girlfriend, and it would be very nice to know if his private moment had been private...

Belatedly he realized he didn't ask where he was, so he added that question. "And where am I?"

[Rugs]

"You ever seen anything like it, Al?"

"No, Fez. Can't say I have. Not since the Cunalids we all watched with Dad a few years back." Al craned his head up at the sky, watching something--several somethings--draw fiery lines through the sky as it came down from orbit. "Somethin' tells me this ain't a meteor shower though."

"Yep. Don't think so." Fez stood up from where he sat and fumbled with a greasy hand in his pocket. He produced a pack of cigs, popped it open, and offered one to Allistair.

Al took it gladly and lit it with his own lighter.

"Whatchu think it is, Al?"

"Hell if I know. Somethin' crashin', maybe." Al took a long drag from his cig, blew a wispy puff of smoke from his mouth. They always helped him think, having his cigs. Kept the nerves steady too. Heavens only knew he needed steady nerves now, with his position in the resistance suddenly moved up. "Could be a ship breakin' up or somethin' of the sort. Don't know why one would fall apart, though, less it was already beat up."

"Yeah?" Fez glanced at Al and walked over a nearby fence to lean on a post and better see the things falling through the sky. "Well, whatever they are, I bet my pack Alderaanians the Sith'll be crawlin' all over 'em 'for the night's done."

Al considered the bet for a moment. Fez had a pack of some big Alderaanian cigars--actual cigars, not the cigs they normally smoked around the Homestead. He'd lucked into them on a raid a few weeks back and they'd quickly become the envy of the resistance's smokers. Fez might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he wasn't stupid either; even in jest, he'd made one of the safest bets anyone could make on Dantooine these days.

"Think that goes without sayin', Fez," Al answered with a chuckle, leaving a thin trail of smoke in the air as he waved the offer off. "Makes me wonder if there's anything worth tryin' to get before the Sith get to 'em."

"Never know. Could be." Fez paused to blow a puff of smoke. "Course, could be some Sith on 'em too. Or... Sith remains, or somethin'"

Al chuckled lightly. "Yeah. Could be."

Before he could say anything else, he felt the com in his pocket shake lightly. Someone was calling him. So much for a quiet break.

"Al," Glitch's voice came through as he pulled it out, "you there?"

"Yeah, Glitch. What's up?"

"A Republic ship went down in orbit. Picked it up on the scanners. Some escape pods got away. Mo's going out to scout ahead, but there might be some survivors."

"So that's what those were..." Fez looked at Al curiously over his shoulder when he heard the comment. Al waved him off. "I'll get some guys together an' head out."

"Well." Al flipped the comm off and stood to stretch his muscles out after sitting for so long. "Looks like they might be worth lookin' in to after all, Fez. Escape pods. Might have some friends on board."

----------------

"You got a sight on it yet?"

"Hold on, takes a sec to get the thing warmed up. Not my fault the damn Sith make slow weapons."

"Well come on. The Reek needs to hit before they spot it."

"I'm workin' on it Fez, just gimme one gorram minute... there. Esta-- Esta..." Jun looked up from the display on his stolen portable missile system--or rocket launcher, as most of the fighters called the things. "What's the word? Esta-"

Fez made a choking motion with his hands. "Establishing. Jun, look at the damn weapon, we don't have much time!"

"Oh! That's it!" Jun peeked at the weapon's display panel and gave a thumbs-up. "Got it."

Fez shook his head. He looked over to Al, who was laying a little further along the ridge with some electrobinoculars.

Al chuckled at hearing their whispers. Jun was a great fighter--one of the best they had--but the poor bastard would hardly be able to read his way out of a grade school room if his life depended on it. "Alright, Joseph. Jun got a lock. Hit 'em to make sure they can't get out of it, and get outta there."

A voice came back through the comm to Al's ear, fuzzy with static, but discernable. "You got it Al."

As the speeder zipped along below the ridge, all kept his attention forward, toward another ridge behind it. It took half a moment for Joseph's Reek to appear, kicking up dust as the tires found purchase on the ground and zoomed down at the Sith speeder from behind.

The Sith vehicle had the misfortune of having forward-mounted guns. It started to turn. Joseph's gunner opened up with Reek's top-mounted turret, which had been retrofitted with an ion cannon they'd been able to salvage from the ruins of a Sith speeder on one of their raids. Fire peppered the speeder's armored chassis. Sparks danced along the surface and the repulsorlifts went out, sending the thing clumsily crashing to the ground.

Joseph hadn't even had to bring his Reek in close. He started to turn, heading back up his own ridge and away from the soon-to-be wreckage...

Al heard Fez mutter "Boom" under his breath.

Jun fired his rocket.

It roared down the ridge and then hit the speeder, turning the thing to slag and handing the Sith inside a one-way express ticket back to the hell they crawled out of.

Al grinned a bit at Joseph's triumphant yell over the comm. "Alright, guys, come on, back to your speeders. 'For the Sith figure out and send some more people this way."

So they scrambled down the hill, clambered into their rides and vanished as quickly as they'd come. Al knew the Sith would come out in heavier numbers to search the area once they found out about a patrol being taken out. But hopefully they'd bought some time.

And it was always fun to tweak their nose.

It didn't take long to get to the site where the pods had come down. It was a motley potpourri of vehicles they'd come in; two Reeks and a pair of larger speeders to get any survivors out in a hurry. As they came to a stop, some of the team hopped out and moved around with weapons in hand to check the area. Others moved to check some of the light medical supplies they'd brought along.

Al glanced over the wreckage as he walked forward. It wasn't particularly pretty. Most of the men that came down probably weren't alive.

As he searched the area with his eyes, he spotted Mo in the low branches of a tree, looking down at someone.

"Mo!" He called. Fez and Jun followed him over his he walked to her. When he got nearer, he spotted the one she was talking to through the grasses. A man in uniform. Looked like at least one of them had made it out alive.

"Heard about the pods coming down and got a team together." He glanced back over his shoulder. A thin trail of smoke was curling skyward from the Sith speeder's wreckage. "That patrol won't be botherin' you again, if they came from here. Probably gonna have some more Sith on the way once they catch sight of that wreckage, though."

Then he turned his attention to the man in the grass. "Well, guess I should say welcome to Dantooine. Busy place these days."

[Meira]

Mo couldn't help but chuckle as the man raised his hands up. But she couldn't blame him either. He'd just crashed in an escape pod from a ship that had been smashed by his enemies. He had to hide and watch as a Sith patrol killed the two men he had just struggled to help. Caution was a good idea.

When he relaxed and lowered his hands, he was able to speak. Mo chuckled again at his response to her quip about his smoking. Yeah, he and Al will get along just fine, she thought. Then he gave his name, and a series of questions fairly rapid fire. He might have relaxed some, but the edge was still there. Mo hopped down from the tree and extended her hand to shake his.

"Nice to meet'cha Nom. I'm Mo, general in the Dantooine Liberation Army. That makes me your friend. I've been here...." She looked back up toward where she'd hidden. She'd seen the worry cross his eyes when he'd asked that question. The whole time, she thought. "Not long." No reason to make him feel any more uncomfortable.

Before she could say more, the sound of a distant blast echoed through the trees. Mo's head instantly turned in the direction the blast had come from. Along the treetops, birds had taken flight at the sound.

"Hold on a sec, Nom." Mo said as she turned and jumped to grab one of the low branches of the tree she'd been in earlier. With the grace of one who'd been doing this for years, Mo pulled herself up into the tree and began to climb up toward the top. When she'd gotten as far as she could go, she pulled a pair of binoculars from a pouch on her hip and scanned the area until she saw smoke. Activating her comm, she called back to Homestead.

"Glitch, I heard an explosion."

"Relax, hun. That's Al and the other boys. They're heading toward you now."

Relieved, Mo deactivated the comm and climbed back down. She stopped at the lower branches once again, wanting to be able to see when the others arrived.

"No worries." she said down to Nom. "What we just heard was the sweet sound of that patrol shuffling off this mortal coil." Not long later, the sound of the team could be heard as they came upon the crash site. No longer needing to hide, Mo put herself into plain sight until Al saw her and called out her name. She waved, then jumped down to the ground again as he and the other made their way over.

When he approached, Mo nodded at his words. She moved over to Jun and Fez, putting an arm around one, then the other in quick half-hugs before turning to stand at Al's side.

"Al, this here is Nom. He's a Republic medic. Nom, this is Al."

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Dantooine...

Nom had heard of it of course, mostly in connection with the Jedi enclave there. But then later from the Sith attack. And apparently occupation. He had no idea how they'd gotten there, but he knew it wasn't all that far from home.

He also had no idea what the Dantooine Liberation Army was, but apparently he owed them. He still wished they'd been a little faster to respond though. If they had, then maybe there would have been three survivors instead of one.

"Well, uh, thanks Mo. I didn't think I was that easy to sneak up on." Nom took his helmet off and awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. He felt totally and hopelessly incompetent.

At the sound of an explosion somewhere nearby he glanced around worriedly. He had no idea how many enemies there were on Dantooine. And what they were equipped with. But he found himself scanning the sky, hoping they weren't equipped with atmospheric fighters or anything.

Luckily, Mo reassured him it was the patrol that had killed his comrades, reaping what they'd sown. It made him feel a little better. He knew it shouldn't have, but it did. It was appropriate. But he thought back to Rina, and one of the things she'd told him together on Naboo. Don’t forget your oath. We promised not to do harm.

It was a small step from enjoying harm to causing it.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably then looked up as a small armada of vehicles came to a stop and let off several people. Mo introduced one of them as Al.

"Hi Al," Nom waved at him, rather uncertain of himself and his ability to deal with new people. He was understandably overwhelmed. He'd gone from sleeping quietly to being surrounded by strangers on a world he'd never been to knowing his friends were most likely dead and knowing he was going to be listed as presumed KIA. All in the course of three hours or so.

He took another drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs slowly. Then he exhaled the cloud of smoke, the fragrant scent of tabac filling the air.

Out of all the questions running through his mind, one sprang to the forefront.

"Have you found any more survivors?"

[Rugs]

"Al, this here is Nom. He's a Republic medic. Nom, this is Al."

Nom, huh? Al regarded the man quietly. He was a bit shorter than Al himself, and didn't possess a presence that was overly imposing, not that that mattered much; the same could be said for many of the resistance's fighters. Al took in the uniform, the pistol strapped to his hip, the cig burning in his mouth, looked at the man as a whole. And though a wary part of his mind urged caution with the offworlder, he came to the conclusion that Nom could, for the moment be trusted.

To a degree.

He took a few steps forward, putting him a little nearer the man. The threat of some sudden attack didn't bother him overmuch; Nom was alone and surrounded by DLA fighters. Any hostile action on his part would be suicide, and he had to know it. Besides, they'd all seen the pods trailing through the sky. So unless the Sith had taken it on themselves to set up a stupidly-elaborate ruse to draw the resistance out, he knew he could trust what Mo said was true.

"Pleasure, Nom," he said simply after the medic's greeting, extending a hand for him to shake. The sight of the cig smoldering in Nom's mouth set a craving on Al, and he was idly fishing in his pocket for his own and a lighter without even thinking about it. "Wish we coulda met on better terms, but at least you made it out."

"Have you found any more survivors?"

Al's eyes were down toward the long cigarra and lighter he held. "Not sure," he muttered as he lit it. He turned to look back over his shoulder at Fez and slipped his lighter back into his pocket. "Fez, how're the others lookin'?"

The blonde mechanic looked to one of the other fighters who'd been helping with the search. The fighter shook his head sadly, and Fez turned to Al and Nom and did the same.

Al swore silently and took a long, deep drag of his cig and sighed, smoke leaving his mouth in a long, airy puff.

"Sorry," he said quietly, "wish it coulda been different." Even though he didn't know Nom, didn't know any of his companions, his voice was heavy and weighted with a real sort of sorrow. "I know what's like to lose someone to the bastards. Wouldn't wish it on anyone."

With another sigh, Al picked up his drooping shoulders and turned his mind to more pressing matters. "Mourn for the dead when the time's right," he heard his father say, "but don't let your mourning keep you from doing what you gotta do."

"So that leaves us with you, looks like." He shifted his weight from one leg to the next, and spoke around the cigarra in his mouth. "Where do you plan t' go from here? Not much you can do on your own in enemy territory like you are."

"Al," a voice said through the comm in his ear, "I'm readin' some movement on the plains, hun. Think the Sith might be headin' to check out the leftovers from your work."

"Not wastin' any time today, are they?" Al muttered irritably. "Mo, what do you think about it?" He looked to her. "Any other person, I'd say take 'em to Flint. But with that uniform, he's gonna stick out."

His eyes flicked back over to Nom, calculating, measuring. "But if he's a friend, we can't just leave 'im out here if the Sith are gonna make another sweep. He'll be dead before night if they find him. If they don't take him prisoner."

[Meira]

After making the introductions, Mo's eyes focused on Al. She could see him thinking, weighing the options and the dangers. She knew his mind in that moment. Was this a trick? But she knew better. She'd seen the scanners, heard the comm chatter. Glitch could confirm it all. There was no way this was some Sith ruse. This man was from the Republic and he needed their help.

Al seemed to realize this, though, and relaxed a bit, shaking the man's hand. He produced his own cigarra and Mo had to roll her eyes and turn away. Maybe back at Homestead, away from the eyes of all those who now looked up to Al, she would chide him like the little brother she still thought of him as. But she couldn't now, not here. He was their leader now. The evidence of that was in his eyes when it was reported that they'd found no other survivors. She wanted to put a hand on his shoulder then, but just as she couldn't get onto him for his stupid habits, she couldn't comfort him like he was Si'bul either. He had to be that strength, like his father and brother.

And he was. She saw Earl and Dutch reflected on Al's face when he straightened his shoulders. It garnered a smile to touch her lips, albeit a sad one.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Glitch's message to Al over her own comm. A silent curse escaped her as her eyes immediately began to scan their surroundings. They were going to have to make themselves scarce, and fast. The others were already loading up, but Mo paused when Al posed his question.

Flint, or Homestead? Mo bit her lip as her eyes turned back onto Nom. She knew he wouldn't be a threat, but they had always guarded Homestead fiercely. It was all they had. if they lost it, they were dead. But Al was right. He wouldn't last on his own, and in Flint he was bound to be noticed.

"He can ride with me." she said, giving Al a reassuring nod before gesturing for Nom to follow her.

She sprinted off into the trees, almost disappearing into the undergrowth. Soon, she was at her speeder bike, fishing through something in a storage bin on the back. She turned back around and tossed a black bag to Nom.

"If you don't mind..." she said, indicating that he should put the bag over his head. "We don't get a lot of visitors." She smiled slightly with the explanation. "But we kinda like it that way."

Once Nom was properly bagged and seated, Mo kicked the speeder bike to life, warned him to hang on, and sped off through the forest.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Nom hung his head at the bad news. Out of the entire Drolar Thel crew, he was apparently the only survivor. That was dark. That was grim. That was a dubious honor he wasn't pleased about having. But still, it was better than being dead. If only by a little.

He simply shrugged when he was asked where he planned to go. He didn't know. He hadn't planned. None of this had been planned, he'd been tossed about by fate for an absurdly long time it seemed. He'd made the idiotic decision to sign his life away, and it had taken him all the way to Dantooine where he was now surrounded by people who seemed to view him as a liability. Certainly they seemed to be mostly talking around him.

He couldn't really argue with that. For the moment he was a liability, and he didn't know what the hell was going on. That was par for the course. He'd never known what was going on from the day he enlisted.

The Mirialan who'd been watching him mentioned something about a homestead then motioned for him to follow as she set off at a run. The Republic medic set off hot on her heels, which was definitely a challenge. She was fast, and moved at just the right distance ahead of him that the branches she parted had a tendency to hit Nom in the face. But he still kept his eyes focused on her back as she moved through the forest.

He arrived at the speeder bike a moment after Mo, suddenly aware of just how achy he was from the crash.

"You know, this place isn't half bad. Its not Toprawa, but under normal circumstances I think I'd like it- Oh you have got to be kidding me..." Nom groaned as he caught the bag in his open hand, more testimony to Mo's throw than his catch. "Today is not my day. First I get blown out of the sky, nearly killed by the Sith, presumed dead by my family, and now I have to wear a damn bag over my head. Great. Just great."

The reluctant medic shoved the bag over his head and fumbled his way onto the speeder bike's rear seat. He grabbed a hold of Mo's waist lightly as he griped again. "With this thing on I bet I look like a complete toooool!" His last word was turned into an exclamation as the bike shot forward and his grip clung to the Mirialan woman even stronger than it had before.

Without his eyesight the speed and the movements seemed magnified. He held on for dear life and silently prayed to whatever gods would listen that the ride would be over soon.

[Rugs]

Al watched Mo for a quiet moment, waiting for an answer from her even though he suspected he already knew what she'd say. But as much as everyone looked to him as the leader for the resistance, he didn't see things that way. Not completely. In any major decision like this, he always made a habit to ask Mo how she felt. Always, as long as he was able to. After all, she'd been a part of it since day one, just as he had. And she was his big sister, in emotion if not in blood. So he asked her, as he always did, as he always would.

"He can ride with me."

So it was settled. Al answered Mo's nod with one of his own. Briefly he looked to Nom and casually pulled the still-smoldering cigarra from his mouth to exhale final smoky breath. "Looks like we'll be helpin' you out after all. See you two when we get there." As he spoke, he threw the cig on the ground and stamped it out before any of the brush could catch fire. He was already turning to jog briskly back toward the speeders he and the team had arrived in. "Mo'll take care'a you."

The speeders were still warm from their arrival, and by the time he took the few steps that were needed to get back to them the others were piling in and making ready to get out. "Alright, we got Sith movin' out on the plains!" Al yelled out so they could hear him over the steady roar of the assembled engines. "Plan's to get back without runnin' into 'em. Don't wanna go puttin' our new friend in any more danger than he's already been though."

Fez hurried along, tucking his pistol into the holster on his thigh as he clambered into the driver's seat of Al's speeder. He saw Joseph once again at the wheel of the Reek he'd ridden out in, with Jun in the turret to complete the pairing. A thought crossed his mind as the ragtag little patrol lurched into motion.

He tapped his comm to speak. "Joseph. Want you to take behind Mo's ride. Watch her back." He fell silent for a moment, mind racing through orders to give so they could have some sort of plan if things went to hell on the trip back.

"Glitch, where are they?"

There was a truncated pause, and then a voice. "Near the site where you and the boys blew that speeder. Checking it out, most likely."

Al nodded quickly. That gave them some time before it would be too late to try to sweep around the Sith. "How many of 'em are there."

"Hmmm, I'm readin' three. Likely another patrol, but I can't be sure on what they're out there in."

"More firepower either way." It felt like he could feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest as he looked over his shoulder to the motley group of freedom fighters. He was responsible for them. All of them, by virtue of being their leader. If he told them to do something stupid and got some of them--or worse, all of them--killed...

"Thanks, Glitch. Let us know when they start movin' again."

"Will do, hun."

"Alright, everyone," said he, addressing them over the commm as he brushed a bang away from his eyes, "patrol's near the ambush site. We're gonna sweep around. South, close to the old mill. Then we'll head on back from there." And hope that kept the Sith off their backs.

And if not, well things would change, until they were free of them. There was one rule everyone in the resistance knew: never lead the Sith back to the Homestead.

Satisfied with the plan for the moment, Al turned around to sit forward in his seat and let the ride play out as Fez took them south. As he did, his gaze fell for a moment on Mo's speeder, and on the medic, who had a bag, of all things on his head. Al just laughed softly.

"What's with the bag, Mo?" he teased. "You tryin' to haze the poor guy already?"

[Meira]

Mo didn't even bother to suppress the laugh that came when the speeder bike's sudden acceleration caught their new medic friend unawares. Maybe it was a bit on the mean side to bag the guy. From what she could tell about him, he probably wouldn't be able to find his way anywhere here on Dantooine. But it was too easy and too tempting a thing not to do.

Once Al's orders were given and Joseph in position at her six, the group moved out and Mo really opened up the speeder bike. As they made their way, Mo laughed again when she heard Al's comment over her comm. She shot him an innocent smile before responding back with her own quip.

"Can you blame me!? Just havin' some fun, Al. Besides, can't be too cautious, right?"

Soon, the old mill came into sight and Mo slowed the speeder slightly. They had to be sure they weren't going to be followed before turning and making their play for Homestead. Being at the head of the group, Mo took it upon herself to call in to Glitch.

"How we lookin'?" she asked, steering to circle around the mill.

"That patrol is still sitting still at the ambush site. Their comm chatter sounds pretty standard. You look clear, hun."

"Thanks Glitch. See you in a few." she said, then revved the speeder bike's engine. "Alright boys," she called to the rest of the group. "let's go home!" Mo gunned the bike again and sped off. She might have fooled around a bit to jostle the new guy... but only a bit. She really couldn't help herself.

[Rugs]

"You look clear, hun."

"Whew!" Al'd never heard four happier words in his life. Of course they'd have to keep an ear and both eyes open for any signs of the patrol or any others that might be wandering about, but for the time being, it looked like it would be smooth sailing back home.

"Yeah, I can blame ya," he called back to Mo through the comm, "but I'll hold m' judgment on ya. Just this once, though, ya hear?" Too bad he wasn't close enough to Mo to give her a wink; he would have if the chance was there. He'd just have to settle for doing without it.

The ragtag convoy of theirs sped along the Plains, turning wide when they reached the old mill. Al spared a glance at it as they passed along. Wasn't long ago the place had been bustling with activity. These days it was dead as an old graveyard. Really a shame, he mulled as they passed though the long shadows of a pair of towering grain silos. They were some of the only structures that still stood on what had been a sprawling complex not too long ago.

As far as anyone had been able to tell, the family that owned the place had died during the invasion. There had been some resistance from a few of the family and workers, trying to keep the Sith away from their property. Property and family had suffered for it. No had seen or heard from the ones that weren't found on the site since the invasion. Just somethin' else the Sith ruined.

Once they'd made it around the mill, Al laughed and urged Fez on. "Come on, Fez, you heard her! Let's go!"

--------------

A while later, the group of speeders arrived at the Homestead. Al had sent word ahead to Glitch when they were less than five minutes out, and some members of the resistance were out and waiting to meet them.

"Alright, here we are," Al said as he hopped down from his ride. He glanced over at Mo and Nom while he stretched out some of his muscles after the ride. "Fez, make sure you get someone to look after the speeders we just came in on. Some of 'em were due to be looked at anyway."

Fez nodded and lingered, whether waiting to see if there was anything else or what would happen to the new guy, Al couldn't say. When he was satisfied there wasn't a need to stick around, he turned and started to head off, motioning for some of the others to follow along.

Al watched him go and wished he could say he'd join them in the garage once Nom was seen to. But it just wasn't something he could promise, now that he had the added responsibilities of a leader. Nothing to be done about it though.

He turned around and shifted his attention to Mo and Nom. "Guess we oughtta get him inside. And I think you can take this off," he tapped lightly on Nom's head--more specifically the bag on his head--and tried in vain to keep some of the amusement at it out of his voice as he spoke. "Welcome to the Homestead."

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

"What's with the bag, Mo? You tryin' to haze the poor guy already?"

Nom's jaw dropped.

"What? Do you mean I didn't have to wear this stupid thing?"

The threw his hands up in the air the very instant Mo revved the bike again. He felt himself wobble on the seat and immediately his hands raced back down to the Mirialan woman's waist, and he clung there for dear life. Under normal circumstances holding a woman by the waist was probably an activity he'd relish, but blindfolded and in danger of falling off a vehicle that seemed to be moving at a billion miles per hour? Now that killed all the joy in holding a pretty girl.

Of course, even if it had been ideal there might have been a little guilt. He had his own girl, and he loved her dearly. She was marriage material in fact. And the idea of being with anyone else, even just feeling someone else made him a little uneasy.

Regardless of touching, this was business and he remained glued to Mo until the bike stopped moving. And even afterwards on the off-chance that she would race off again. He kept clinging on blindly right up until he heard the engine cut off, then he tentatively started to swing a leg over when he felt a hand impact on his head, or rather on the helmet he was still wearing under the bag.

"Guess we oughtta get him inside. And I think you can take this off. Welcome to the Homestead."

Nom felt himself wobbling off balance from a stiff sensation in his legs and the touch on his head cemented it. In a rather ungraceful mess of flailing arms, he fell off the back seat and onto the ground. Rising swiftly to his feet again with body language that screamed 'meant to do it,' Nom pulled the bag off his head. Or rather tried to. It stuck under the edge of his helmet and forced him to yank harder. On his third pull it cleared and pulled his helmet off with it, which promptly fell out of the bag and hit him on the nose.

He fumbled with it a little, but managed to catch it and return it to his head. As he did so, he looked around at the assembled people and the environment around him. Mostly the people. He hadn't expected quite so many of them.

"Uh, hi. I'm Nom." He waved feebly.

[Meira]

It hadn't been five seconds after Mo cut the engine of the speeder bike that she heard that all too familiar voice shout out her name. She managed to jump off the bike before the young Zabrak leaped at her. She caught him, but fell under his weight. He was getting too old and too big to jump on her like that. As she and Si'bul sat on the ground, there was an unmistakable sound of someone else falling. The two turned their heads in time to see Nom stand up quickly, and then fumble with the bag and his helmet.

As Si'bul laughed, Mo stood, dusted off her pants and nodded at Al. "Yeah... he's liable to hurt himself out here. Best keep him away from anything sharp for a while."

While Mo talked to Al, Si'bul approached Nom, wide eyed and curious as only a child could be. When Nom said hello, Si'bul stretched out his skinny, sand colored, arm toward him. "HI! I'm Si'bul!" Some of the other curious DLA members nodded their heads toward Nom, but Si'bul was the only one that actually came up to him. That is, until Tiny arrived.

Anything but what his name suggested, Tiny was a massive kath hound, the alpha of the DLA's pack actually. He'd been at the edges of the group, but upon smelling the unfamiliar scent of this newcomer, the hound had moved forward with teeth bared and a powerful growl. Mo straightened to call the hound off, but Si'bul beat her to it.

"Tiny, NO!" Si'bul said with all the authority of his six years. Tiny towered over the Zabrak boy, but Si'bul stepped between him and Nom without the slightest hint of fear. "Sit! He said, pointing his finger at the kath hound's nose. Tiny gave a resigned grunt and plopped down on his haunches, his eyes still intent on the stranger.

"It's ok." Si'bul said, turning and taking Nom's hand to pull him toward the hound. "You just smell weird."

"Why don't we save that for later?" Mo moved to intercept before Si'bul got Nom's hand bitten off. She put her arm around Nom's shoulder and steered him away toward the entrance by the hangars. "You hungry? 'Bout dinner time. Let's get you settled." She turned her head then toward Si'bul. "Go feed Tiny and then you go eat too, y'hear?" Si'bul nodded and ran off. When he whistled, Tiny shot Nom one last suspicious glance before bounding off after the boy.

[Rugs]

All Al could really do when Nom teetered off the back of the speeder was laugh. He didn't mean to, and he managed to sniffle it to a moderate chuckle after he realized what was happening, but it was funny. "Hey, sorry 'bout that," he offered, supposing an apology--no matter how half-assed--was better than nothing after laughing at the guy's fall.

"Yeah, wouldn't want that," he snickered when he turned his attention to Mo. A warm smile touched his youthful features as he watched Si'bul introduce himself to Nom. They were good folks, the people of the DLA, once you got to know them. And once they were sure you were trustworthy. Si'bul didn't seem to care much either way where the stranger came from. Alistair envied the kid in a way.

Then came Tiny, the Kath hound that wasn't so tiny. Al looked at Mo, who'd gone on alert with the big animal lumbering with a threatening growl and bared teeth toward the innocent medic. Si'bul, of course, was on the ball, and the situation was soon diffused. For the moment.

When the child and the dog went off to other things, Al put a hand on Nom's shoulder and gave him an understandingly amused grin. "What is they say? Outta the frying pan, into the fire?" He gave the medic's shoulder a companionable pat and started heading inside, falling in just ahead of him and Mo as Mo steered Nom along. "Course, y'know what they say about gettin' attacked by Kath hounds, don't ya?" Al paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. "Just punch 'em in the nose and they'll leave you well enough alone."

He resumed his walking and quietly counted the seconds before he laughed. The count made it to four before he snickered. "Actually, I'm just kiddin'. Don't do that, 'less you wanna lose a hand."

Al still chuckled to himself as they moved on through the Homestead. The halls and corridors were quiet, save the occasional resistance member that they passed along the way. Nom got some mostly curious looks from the people they passed. A stranger in the Homestead wasn't entirely common, but if Al and Mo were with him, and freely so, he had to be alright.

Eventually, the smell of cooking food reached Al's nostrils. "Nearly there..." He looked back over his should at Nom again. "So what kinda food d'ya like, Nom? Don't know what they fed you in the military, but smells like roast today."

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

"Yeah... he's liable to hurt himself out here. Best keep him away from anything sharp for a while."

Nom was tempted to object to that one, but he was forced to admit he hadn't been especially graceful there. And he was still a little shaken up by the experience. Out of thousands, he was the sole survivor. That took a little getting used to.

Why him anyway? He wasn't an officer, he wasn't even in the regular army. He was with the Toprawa Defense Force, a third rate backwater planetary force the Republic had drafted into the war effort purely out of proximity to the Sith. He was just a medic, an ordinary person without any real value, but somehow he'd been ordained by fate or the Force or god to be the one survivor.

Further contemplation was cut short by the extended arm of a Zabrak child, who Nom had to admit was a pretty cute little guy. He couldn't resist a smile.

"HI! I'm Si'bul!"

"I'm Nom," he said, introducing himself with a handshake. He hadn't seen kids in quite a while with the war and his postings. The last time was... probably on Naboo. There'd been a lot of happy children running around in Theed, Naboo was just that kind of place. Truly idyllic.

Nom jumped as he heard a large animal growling. He turned to face the source of the noise. It was a large dog-like creature, presumably with some sort of fur. All he could notice were the numerous pointy teeth that wanted to eat him.

He started to back away nervously, only to see the Zabrak child step between them and hold up a hand.

"Tiny, NO!"

Tiny? Who the hell had named this massive pile of teeth 'Tiny'? Well, clearly someone who appreciated irony. Nom had to admit he liked irony, just not when several hundred pounds of it wanted to eat his face.

Much to his surprise, Tiny listened to Si'bul and even sat down on command. Nom had half expected the small child to be eaten whole as an appetizer to the main course of Republic medic. Maybe Tiny was nicer than he thought.

"It's ok. You just smell weird."

The growl emerging from the kath hound as Si'bul dragged Nom's hand confirmed his earlier suspicion. Tiny was not friendly. Well, to him at least.

Luckily Mo intercepted him and steered him away from Tiny. She was really turning out to be his guardian angel today, watching over him from a tree... Yeah, he could probably forgive her for riding a speeder bike like a maniac and shoving a bag over his head.

"You hungry? 'Bout dinner time. Let's get you settled."

His stomach chose that particular moment to rumble. Yeah, he was hungry. Come to think of it, he hadn't eaten in something like fourteen hours. There hadn't been time ever since his ship got into a battle.

Yes, food would definitely be welcome. He nodded to Mo as a means of indicating he wholeheartedly agreed with the suggestion. Of course there wasn't all that much to settle. He only had the clothes on his back, some cigs, a lighter, and a picture of Rina, plus a few other bits of pocket litter. Well, and a blaster pistol and his medkits. Still though, it wasn't much.

Al patted him on the shoulder and caught his attention again.

"What is they say? Outta the frying pan, into the fire?"

The Republic medic shrugged. He'd already been in the frying pan and the fire, this was... he didn't know what. It wasn't great, but it was better than being a POW. Or dead, since the Sith hadn't shown any interest in taking prisoners. At all really.

This had taken his opinion of them from low to lowest.

"Course, y'know what they say about gettin' attacked by Kath hounds, don't ya?"


Nom cocked his head expectantly, awaiting some nugget of advice. He wasn't disappointed.

"Just punch 'em in the nose and they'll leave you well enough alone."

Nom stared. This had to be a joke, right? He continued to stare, and met the unflinching gaze of Al. He was serious? No way... You really just punched them in the nose and they were gone? But that nose area was awfully close to the teeth area...

"Actually, I'm just kiddin'. Don't do that, 'less you wanna lose a hand."

Nom laughed. "You had me going there Al. Bet you would have felt bad if I tried it and lost a hand though. Well, not as bad as I'd feel."

"So what kinda food d'ya like, Nom? Don't know what they fed you in the military, but smells like roast today."

"Anything that doesn't come out of a synthesizer like I've been stuck with for the past month. I haven't had real food in a long time. A long time."

Nom's stomach took the opportunity to grumble again, and he rubbed it gently.

"But right now I'd eat anything, I swear I'm about to starve to death here. This has been my worst day ever."

[Meira]

Once Nom was out of immediate danger from being mangled by Tiny, Mo slackened her grip on the man's shoulder, then let it go entirely once he was in step with her. She smiled when she heard his stomach growl in response to her question. Big tragic events could either wipe out a body's appetite, or crank it up. Seems like Nom was inclined toward the latter.

Al fell in with them, leading the way. So Mo simply walked along beside Nom as they moved into Homestead. She said nothing at his first comment, and cocked her head almost in sync with Nom at his second. What kind of advice did Al have for Nom about the hounds? No one knew those brutes better than Mo, except for maybe Si'bul.

If she hadn't caught the hint of mischief in Al's smile when he bestowed his gem of advice, she might have said something. Instead she rolled her eyes, keeping quiet while he had Nom's full attention. She was about to discredit the statement, worried that Al wouldn't let on that he was joking, but he finally did. Mo couldn't help but laugh at hearing Nom's response to that.

By now, they were near the kitchen, and the smell of roast fill Mo's nose, causing her to sigh happily. It seemed the scouts did well without her on the last hunting trip, and everyone would reap the benefits. She put her hand on Nom's shoulder once again as they made their way to the serving line that was already forming up.

"No worries." she said with a smile. "We have to make do with what we can find, but we've got some creative cooks. And it's all natural. We'll find you a place to bunk after we eat. I'm sure you're tired."

At his comment about possibly being able to eat anything, Mo chuckled and nodded her head. There'd been a few times she'd felt the same way. She could recall those early days after the invasion when they'd all been hiding in that cave. That had been hard, and it had seemed like there was no way they'd make it through another day. Times were still hard now, and would be until they didn't have to hide any more. But at least now they were more organized and driven.

Nom's final comment brought a thoughtful frown to her face. She realized what he must be feeling, being possibly the lone survivor of what must have been a very large ship. Again, she could relate. Nom thought it was his worst day ever. Well, everyone in Homestead had one of those too, and it was the same Sith that had brought it down on all of them.

"Maybe," she said, her smile sympathetic, "but there isn't a person here in Homestead who doesn't know how that feels. You couldn't be in better company... considering."

[Rugs]

Al nodded as the trio walked on into the kitchen and toward the back of the growing line. The food they had--hell, anything, for that matter--wasn't exactly luxurious. But it was real, and it was filling, and after the early post-invasion days, felt like nourishment sent straight from heaven. Besides, just because it hadn't been made with the Galaxy's finest ingredients--some of the prideful farmers would disagree about that--or cooked by some of the Galaxy's finest chefs didn't mean it wasn't good. Maybe Al was just a country boy, but he loved a good home cooked meal, and living with the DLA, he often got exactly that.

"Yeah, no worries," he chimed in, picking up some trays and handing two off to Mo and Nom. "You're with friends. All of us have had somethin' taken by the Sith. Some more than others."

A retrospective quiet fell over the young man then, and his gaze went distant as images of the invasion played again in his mind. Bombers shrieking over head, the distant boom and thunder of battle. Smoke clogged the pristine air, and he could only imagine how Dantooine had screamed as the invaders marred her face with fire.

"Al?"

The sound of his name pulled Al back to the here and now. "Huh?"

There was a boy in front of him, no older than ten or eleven. Another war orphan. Jak. "Are you okay?" His big brown eyes looked concerned.

"Oh," Al said pensively, "I'm uh... I'm fine." He looked down at his hands. His grip had gone so tight on tray that it was quivering, and the veins on the back of his hand were bulging out and his knuckles were white.

Al just sighed and relaxed his grip, holding the tray with one hand instead of two and holding it by his side. "Sorry," he muttered back to Nom and Mo. "I can't... It happens sometimes." The line moved, and Al stepped forward with it. "Mo's right though," he said, looking back to Nom with a somber smile, "we know how it feels. Couldn't'a picked a better group to fall in with. Not that you chose..."

The line moved again, and Al came up to the beginning of the serving line and put a plate on his tray. He took some beans that they'd picked up from Flint recently and plopped them onto his plate. They smelled good. Seasoned, even. That was an uncommon treat. The real treat was at the end of the line, though: the roast.

[Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy]

Nom had ditched his helmet previously, and belatedly he realized he didn't have to wear the damned thing anymore. That was good, as without it he looked less like a circus clown. This old Republic armor with its reds, blacks, and yellows really did give that illusion at times. Technically he supposed he didn't have to wear it anymore.

The lanky Republic medic wouldn't mind that at all.

And he wouldn't mind eating food now, natural or not. Of course had had to admit the former sounded appealing after months of gunk from a synthesizer. It had been a long time since he'd had real food.

Well, he was going to again now. Even if the circumstances were less than ideal. Much less than ideal in fact. Everything came back to that, and hunger or not there was a question he had to ask.

"Do you have any contact with the Republic? I'd like my parents and my girlfriend to know I'm not dead. I mean, I can understand if you don't have any communications with the outside galaxy, with the Sith here and all, but I think they should know. I want them to know."

In his mind's eye he could picture Rina again, crying for him. Tears on her blue cheeks... That image broke his heart, and he knew somehow, some way, he'd get back to her. He'd make her know. Not even the whole of the Sith Empire could stop him from that.

That was a foolish thing to think, but damned if he'd let his girl cry her eyes out like that. One day they'd be married. They had to be.

But... There likely wasn't a way off this rock, pretty or not, and it was likely this would be his new home for a long time.

"But I understand, and if I'm stuck here. Well, need a medic?"

[Meira]

((HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY.... guess who's super sorry for taking so long to reply! This gal! Also, I feel like we're either at or very close to a natural stopping point for this thread, so I'm gonna have Mo step out here.))



As they moved through the line, there was a change in Al. It hit him quite suddenly, causing the man to freeze in place. She wasn't the only one that noticed either. But one of the kids managed to pull Al out of whatever daze he'd fallen into. When he apologized, Mo's eyes connected with his, giving him one of her do we need to talk? looks. If the stress was getting to him, he needed to tell her. Or if not her, someone. Dutch had hidden it away, and that had only brought them all grief. Mo couldn't watch that happen to Al as well.

Their food was served up, and Mo said nothing out loud as they moved along the line. Luckily, Nom managed to fill the silence with a question. It wasn't an easy question, though. Mo bit her lip as she considered the answer.

"Yes... and no." she said as they got their roast. Man, it smelled good. She led their way to an empty table to the side of the room. "I know that sounds like a pretty sorry answer, but it's how it is. We gotta be careful. The Sith here are after us. We're priority number one. We mess up just once, it's all over." Mo took a bite and savored to roast for a moment before swallowing and continuing.

"We tried contacting them before, got through even. But there isn't exactly much they can do for us. Plus, every transmission is a risk. And while I feel real sorry for ya Nom, making your girlfriend feel a bit better isn't exactly something we're prepared to do. Not when it means putting the lives of all these people on the line." Mo gestured with her fork at those sitting around their own tables eating. "I'm sure you understand?"

A few bites later, a man came into the room, looked around, and then spotted Mo. He came up and began to speak, but when he saw Nom he paused, his eyes glancing between him and Mo.

"It's ok, Jon."

"Oh, alright. Umm... we need you to come meet with the scouts. There's some worry that the Sith have found some of the game trails."

Mo nodded and said she'd be right there. Jon walked back out and Mo took a few more bites of her food in a rush. She then downed her glass of water and sighed contentedly as she set the cup back down on her tray.

"Well boys," she said, looking at Al and then Nom. "duty calls." Standing, Mo patted Nom on the shoulder. "Welcome again, I guess." Then she looked to Al again. "I'll find you later." With that, she was out the door after Jon to speak with the scouts.