Ship Converse

"Oh, you know, some legitimate organization that dealt into the import/export sort of stuff."

He smiled.

"Very well," he replied. "You may keep that information to yourself if it makes you comfortable. I am more interested in the potential danger that should your personal baggage come back to bite you, I may have to deal with getting caught in the jaws as well, so to speak. In the interest of keeping us abreast of any potential trouble before possible arrival to wherever this authority is based in, what is the authority the scrutiny of which the company you were previously employed under earned? Star system and planet would also be appreciated."

Dake looked kind of annoyed at Vahrran's last question.

"...If we have to land on a planet, or a moon where my ex-employers are present, I'll make sure to let you know. Until then, I see no reason to tell you. It's not like they are searching for me anyway."

Vahrran rose from his seat and moved the half-full bottle of ale closer to Dake. "As you say," he conceded. "If you are still thirsty, you may have the rest of mine."

"No thank you. You may have put some poison in it. I would hate to die at such a young age."

He then smiled. Noticing that Vahrran didn't smile in return, he added :

"That's a joke."

You know it:

Ominae is currently meditating. Please leave message after the boop.

Day two of the hyperspace jump, Vahrran walked into the mess room with Boop to find Dake and Ominae playing cards.

"Having a friendly gamble?" he asked.

"More or less," Dake answered off-hand, focusing on the prize. "He's too Jedi to throw in even one credit, though."

Ominae shrugged. "For me it's less about the credits, and more about the winning."

Vahrran searched the fridge for something to heat up and set Boop down on the counter, opening up a box and bracing for the smell of moldy, day-old meat. he set a plate in front of her and slopped the meat onto it, which she began to dig into, chirping as she did. "Have you met any members of the Ubesians before, Ominae?"

"No...I know that they think pretty much the same about every other species the way they do about Jedi, except not as bad," Ominae explained thoughtfully.

One Explanation Later...


"...Violent, racial contempt," he finished, long since done playing cards with Dake, who had taken what he needed from the history lesson and left.

Vahrran stopped eating his equivalent-to-far-future-habitable-planet's-MRE-steak to stroke Boop, now curled up on his neck. "You had your first encounter with an Ubesian the day before. Any thoughts?" he asked.

"More or less what I expected," Ominae answered. "Worse than I hoped, considering how it ended."

Vahrran agreed. "Yes. I would have freed him, albeit guardedly. A 0% chance is still a chance deserved, to those of us honor-bound."

Half a smile cracks on Ominae's face. "Might be the end of us sooner or later."

Vahrran blinked. "Perhaps not," he mumbled with a hint of optimism. "People like Hando make that choice without a second thought or analyzing the subject, but in this case, I must admit I cannot begrudge the result of yesterday's altercation."

"Overall, went better than I thought it would," Ominae chimed.

Vahrran nodded, and dismissed himself to take the remnants of his meal to waste disposal.

Pretty much word for word of how it went (except for that credits-winning bit, i don't remember saying that). Good job.

I put that in there with the other stuff to create a smooth takeoff for the roleplay. It's small talk serving as an "icebreaker" for the deep stuff, so nothing should be read into.

TBH, though, Ominae wouldn't say anything about it. At most, he'd say "yeah".

Alright, let me set this up good and proper.

As the blaster bolt hits him in the chest, besides the burning pain, Ominae feels his world shutting down and fading to black. He tries to regain his footing, raise his sword, but it's all meaningless, his body will no longer move. All he has left before it all fades into nothing are the faces of the family that'll never see him again, the younglings who perished because he couldn't save them, and his Master's final sacrifice, that had just now been rendered meaningless, and the fleeting thought that had he been here instead of him, none of this would be happening. All this flashes before him in the blink of an eye, and then he blinks no more, as his body hits the ground, lifeless.

............................................

Suddenly there's a ripple, making it's way to the boy's near-broken mind. As the blast in the Force thunders across him,  his family, friends and Master, along with all reality suddenly snap right back into place. His hand spazzes as if electrified, until it grips back around his lightsaber as if to crush it. His eyes snap wide as his teeth clench, and he hurls himself off the floor, in the same motion that he blasts the foe standing over him right into a burning forklift. He stands straight for a second, getting the last of his bearings, then a flash of blue shoots from his hand as he reignites his lightsaber.
He springs forth into a charge, striking into his foe with every last bit of strength he can muster. As every fiber in him still aches from his sudden revival, he barely notices the dark whisper coming from some blind spot in his mind, tempting him to give in to his anger and slice the wretch before him to ribbons until there's nothing left but a charred mess that can no longer be recognized as anything. As he struggles against it, something breaks his concentration as a sound reaches his ears.

"Hydra!"

He can't keep from looking back, as he catches the sight of Vahrran executing their prisoner with a point-blank shot to the head. Already struggling to center himself, he manages to focus long enough to get back to his own battle and finish off his foe. As what's left of his enemy falls to the ground, Ominae's own adrenaline stars to thin out, and he suddenly feels like he's made of lead. His whole body aches under the strain of what it just put itself through, and even standing straight feels like a daunting task. He takes a few labored breaths before he can even think, then he turns and walks toward Vahrran. His eyes still bloodshot, looking at the scene before him, of a Bothan shot in the head, execution-style, while still bound in his restraints.

He can only mutter coarsely at Vahrran: "What have you done?"

It occurs to me i could have only just written that last line, but i guess i had a little too much time to think on it.

That's fine, it's a good recap.

Vahrran blinked, letting a vague jaded frown get by him.

"I sought to use the Bothan's death as...a way to distract the enemy," he explained, interrupted by a cough. "Harrowing as the fight was, I wanted to avoid any more complications or losses."

His speech still laboured and slow, still trying to control his breath, Ominae half-unconsciusly takes a step forward.

"So you execute a prisoner...?"

Vahrran's brow lifted slightly. "No, quite the reverse order of my reasoning, in actuality."

He stooped to recover the device used to transmit auditory and visual recordings and proceeded to take it apart, keeping busy while he elaborated on his thinking. "The execution of said captive was my original goal, though I saw no harm in providing you with some assistance as a result; even with the wrap-up well in hand, one should never pass up an opportunity to refuse an enemy combatant any quarter. Find solace, if you have need, in that he had already swallowed cyanide and took the method of his death into his own hands."

Exhausted as he is, a twitch of bewilderment betrays his face. There's visibly a bit of processing going on inside his head, but he finally grits his teeth and turns away, off to check on the others.