If it were easy...

[Dire Wolf]

Deep within the black vacuum of cosmos a single ship darted through a writhing hyperspace tunnel. A shimmering motley of blues and purples scintillated around the craft as it passed through the extra-dimensional event known as hyperspace. To the casual observer the ethereal beauty attributed to hyperspace folds that ships slipped through was just that: beautiful. Any sailor, however, would name it a few degrees shy of terrifying. Radiation against shields formed the scintillating beauty that non-spacers stared at with a slack jaw, and one breach in the hull of the ship would end in the death of all aboard.

A woman glided through the corridors of that ship with a sinuous type of grace and little care paid towards the ever present threat of death. Fiery red locks of hair managed to escape the hastily made ponytail that wagged at the back of her skull; they managed to frame the almost leonine features of her face rather well. Standard issue republic trousers and a flat black t shirt formed what little she could call an outfit, and did little to hide the tattoos at either arm. Each one was a vestige of her former life as a Jedi Investigator, and was a cause of contention amongst her Jedi peers. Jedi did not get tattoos. Not professional ones anyways. Though, she supposed that that was the point to the tattoos. What criminal expected a Jedi to get ink?

Tahlia’s heart fluttered lightly in her chest with each passing step. Every waking moment for the past few months had been devoted to forming a Jedi-lead Special Operations group. If only she realized at the time that leadership had never been her thing. That graceful stride came to a sudden halt when she reached a door that looked no different than any of the others in the hall. Only this one read, “Rm 701: Briefing room.”

Her heart fluttered again as she made a single step forward, and the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Without another thought or hesitation she passed through the breach to room where fifteen servicemen and women sat; each and every single one with their eyes fixed upon her. It was like every single one had been speaking ill of her moments before she walked into the room, and now only the dull rumble of engines could be heard in the distance. Doing her best not to look like she was screaming on the inside, the Jedi Knight somehow found the podium at the center of the small dais.

Those baleful red eyes darted amongst the faces of each and every single sailor and soldier before her before she spoke without a clue as to what to say, “Hi. I’m-uhh-the reason you’re all sitting here today. Knight Tahlia. You might have worked with a Jedi before, but this unit’ll be the first to have a Blade--a Jedi-- attached to it. Leading it. If we’re successful, which I plan to be, more’ll follow. This could be what we need to save the Republic before she needs help.” Somehow Tali found her courage as she spoke, but she still felt nervousness gnawing at her heart.

“We don’t have a mission yet--but that’ll change soon.”

Somewhere, somehow, a rippling growl within the Force sent her stomach tumbling. Her eyes darted amongst the people once more, and after a few moments she wrote her feelings off as mere nervousness. Hopefully that’s all it was.

[Thaddeus]

Once again Arkoh and the Aegis had been seconded to special taskforce, mercifully though this time it wasn’t for Republic SpecOps. Meaning that at least they would have access to the full mission brief rather than having to view a mission brief which contained ‘redacted’ more often than any other word including ‘the.’ It was an interesting assignment too; the Arkanian had to admit that much, for the taskforce was under the command of a Jedi Knight. It was the first time a Jedi Knight had taken a Republic command in the current war, and from his meeting with the Admiral it might not be the last time either.

Arkoh checked off on a report which had been thrust into his hands, he stood on his dais on the Aegis’ bridge watching the steady hubbub of the crew. There was a great sense of anticipation in the air, the news that a Jedi was aboard had spread rapidly – back in port it had reached the crew preparing the Jedi’s quarters before the Jedi herself had arrived there. Sailors gossiped worse than fishwives, Arkoh thought kindly.

He hadn’t had time to meet the Jedi, or any of the personnel assigned to the taskforce when they had boarded the Aegis, he had been busy ensuring that the ship was fully repaired and stocked. His XO though told him that the Jedi was quite strange, even for a Jedi, more than that he would not say. He could have looked up the personnel files, but he preferred to savour the curiosity and to have it sated in person. Where was the fun in life if you didn’t leave yourself open to surprises after all, Arkoh asked silently with a smile.

A marine trotted onto the bridge and approach the captain with a salute, “Sir, the Jedi is ready to give the briefing.” Arkoh nodded, and the marine hurried back to his post, walking down from his platform Arkoh told the XO to take command. The Duros nodded and took up the Arkanian’s spot. Arkoh wandered lazily through the halls of the Aegis, he knew the winding halls of the ship like the back of his hand (and more importantly knew the moments to duck to avoid knocking his head upon some metal girder). As he did so he straighten each button, pulled his jacket straight, brushed some silver hair back into place, and double-checked the polish on his boots. As always everything was perfect.

He entered the briefing room late; the Jedi was already walking to the dais, but with the arrogant confidence only an Arkanian could have Arkoh strode to a seat at the back. He sat down gracefully and pulling out his cigarette case lit one and settled in for the briefing. Ramad wasn’t wrong the Jedi was certainly not the usual image of a stoic and serene guardian of the galaxy. The tattoos and the rather nervous demeanour would strike anyone as odd in combination, but add to that the expectations of a Jedi she seemed entirely incongruent. Arkoh exhaled and chuckled silently behind the smoke, well he was certainly surprised.

It was an odd briefing, it seemed like the Jedi was as much in the dark as the rest of them… didn’t really inspire much confidence Arkoh thought. He cast his eyes about the room, and folding a leg over awaited the process to continue. He hoped this wouldn’t drag on, and that he wouldn’t be forced to introduce himself and pretend some comradery with these limpets who had latched themselves onto his ship. A manicured finger tapped an almost silent tattoo on the silver cigarette case.

[Valcor]

    ~Coruscantian literature is quite possibly some the most refined and cultured writing ever produced by humanity.~ Read the first sentence of Demyan's new book titled 'The Beginning of Human Literature'.  He had downloaded the piece onto his datapad quite a while ago, but never found the time to actually sit down and give it a read.  In fact the majority of Sergeant Demyan Mikhail's career had been too busy for him to indulge himself in a good read, but it appeared that things were cooling down for a bit.  

    Demyan, after a lengthy battle aboard the Republic prison The Vault, had been given a more relaxed assignment, or so he thought.  In the Sergeant's mind, being assigned to the first Jedi/Republic task force in recent memory, was more akin to being chosen as a guinea pig than being chosen as a soldier.  'They'll probably send us to clean gutters somewhere.  See if we can actually work together.' the Rendillian man thought to himself with a chuckle.  The true purpose of this assignment was still unknown to the bearded marine at the moment however, and was the reason Demyan was reading in the location he was.  The Briefing room.

    Demyan arrived early, as he usually did when he was aware of an upcoming meeting.  Already in his usual Heavy Trooper armor he commonly wore, Demyan was at least content.  The Marine felt little need to dress formally for this briefing, as the commanding officer was not even part of the rank and file military, and probably would not be the type to demand, or even know what formal wear was.  So, Demyan sat, helmet held under the crook of his arm, datapad in hand, reading and waiting for people to start pouring in.  It was the silence before the storm, and the room still held the quiet that Demyan found so soothing, but he knew it would soon be broken by the arrival of the rest of the task force.

    Just as Demyan was finishing the first page of his book, the first set of boots clicked through the door.  The Sergeant paid little attention to them however, as he was unlikely to have any kind of personal relationship with the soldier. 'Well guess it's time to start acting official.' Demyan thought to himself with a soft sigh as he flicked his datapad off and stowed it back in it's pouch.  The small snap of the clasp echoed through the room as silence once again fell over the room's occupants as whoever had entered took their seat a few rows behind Demyan.  The Sergeant slowly stroked his beard as he relaxed back into the chair that was clearly much to small for him.  "Dis is going'ta be looong meeting." Demyan said softly to himself in his thick Rendillian accent as more boots clicked and marched down the hall outside.  He'd much rather be reading...