Back again…

Hello tumblr… it has been a while!

I know I dropped off the face of the earth for a bit… in honesty I was pretty depressed for most of the summer and lost my muse.  It’s so funny, I’m planning a wedding, and I know these are supposed to be the happiest months of my life,  but my family is absolutely driving me fucking crazy.  I’m going to force myself to stop the subject there though, lest this turn into a 12 page rant on my increasingly complicated relationship with my mother… heh.

Anyway, I’m back now, and writing again!  I’ve built up a couple of stories in my mind, and I’m trying to force myself to write them out one at a time, but we’ll see how that goes…

:)

Prison Break

 “Sir! An encrypted message just arrived,” Temple gushed, hurdling into the Phantom’s cockpit and snapping Will from his reverie.  She motioned behind her towards the ship’s holoterminal before continuing.  “It seems to be from the Outer Rim, the Bozhnee Sector, but the manner in which it’s been encrypted… I can’t seem to—”

“Thank you, Raina,” the agent turned and rose to his feet, gently interrupting the young ensign with a reassuring hand upon her shoulder.  An encrypted message itself was no unusual event, but a coding that eluded Temple’s extensive training warranted immediate attention.  Reaching to his left, he quickly switched the Phantom to autopilot and strode down the dimly lit hallway towards the lounge.  Temple followed in suit, quietly muttering under her breath in agitation.

“… I’ve never seen anything like it before, it shouldn’t be possible…”

The holoterminal’s command console was blinking softly, but just as Temple described, a playback of the message revealed nothing but a flurry of blue static.  Will narrowed his crimson eyes in thought, pursing his lips together.

“I’ve tried all of the former Intelligence encryption codes, sir, as well as a number of standard Imperial codes,” Temple ventured to his right.

“I have the feeling this may not be from either source,” the Chiss responded, an idea slowly forming in his mind.  He opened the control panel, and began typing furiously.  The static stopped, and the message seemed to stutter for a second before coming to life.

“…he’s Imperial.  How do you know we can trust him?” a young man in Mandalorian beskar was eyeing the recorder suspiciously as the message started, standing with his arms crossed next to a Devaronian, while a petite woman with cybernetic implants frantically finished pressing a series of buttons on her own holoterminal console.

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Survival
Kandosii stood alone in the snow, and the wind whipped against her face, cold and biting at her petite features.  While the majority of her crew had clumsily searched for an excuse to stay behind on the ship during their time on the remote planet, Hoth’s desolate ice plains and towering mountains unmistakably called to her from the moment they entered orbit.
Taking care to leave the warm comfort of the Fury unnoticed, she had let her wayward impulses guide her into the frozen wilderness, wandering through fields of icy tundra and vast glacial sheets until she reached a deep rift in the ice that barred her passage.  It was a harsh scar that marred the landscape for miles in either direction, yet the raw, destructive beauty of it took her breath away.
As she looked down into the chasm at her feet, she felt oddly vulnerable.  It seemed endless, stretching for an eternity into the quiet darkness below, reminding her that out here in the frigid cold and ice she was insignificant.  Powerless.  A mere living speck struggling against the inhospitable elements that surrounded her for leagues before melting into the distant horizon.
It was a harsh reality, but she welcomed it for the surge of emotion that it brought crashing through her: a rekindling of her most base instinct, the desperate drive for survival.  
Closing her eyes, she reached out to the Force and let the sensation overwhelm her.

Survival

Kandosii stood alone in the snow, and the wind whipped against her face, cold and biting at her petite features.  While the majority of her crew had clumsily searched for an excuse to stay behind on the ship during their time on the remote planet, Hoth’s desolate ice plains and towering mountains unmistakably called to her from the moment they entered orbit.

Taking care to leave the warm comfort of the Fury unnoticed, she had let her wayward impulses guide her into the frozen wilderness, wandering through fields of icy tundra and vast glacial sheets until she reached a deep rift in the ice that barred her passage.  It was a harsh scar that marred the landscape for miles in either direction, yet the raw, destructive beauty of it took her breath away.

As she looked down into the chasm at her feet, she felt oddly vulnerable.  It seemed endless, stretching for an eternity into the quiet darkness below, reminding her that out here in the frigid cold and ice she was insignificant.  Powerless.  A mere living speck struggling against the inhospitable elements that surrounded her for leagues before melting into the distant horizon.

It was a harsh reality, but she welcomed it for the surge of emotion that it brought crashing through her: a rekindling of her most base instinct, the desperate drive for survival. 

Closing her eyes, she reached out to the Force and let the sensation overwhelm her.

Lies and tricks, part 2

Continued from here

—————————————————————————————

Tenny’s cool composure shifted immediately.  She backed slowly from the Miralukan Jedi standing in front of her, and placed one hand firmly upon the blaster at her waist.  Replaying the Jedi’s command through the machinery of her mind, she stopped momentarily to analyze the cadence, the inflection, of his voice.  What she found quite literally took her breath away.

There it is… a hidden frequency too low for human ears, practically humming with power.

“The force,” she whispered aloud, and Corso snorted loudly beside her.

I could have told you that one—” he said sarcastically, motioning at the hooded Jedi, who remained curiously silent.  Tenny turned to give him a curdling glare, and he sighed, trying in vain to control his agitation.  Placing a protective hand on Tenny’s shoulder, he turned so that his back was towards the Jedi.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he apologized in an earnest voice, glancing over his shoulder. “But this is getting way out of hand.  We need to find a way out of this situation, and I’ve got a feeling talkin’ ain’t it—”

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Competition
“That will be all then,” Kandosii finished briefing her crew and dismissed them with a curt nod. Vette and Jaesa immediately made themselves scarce; vanishing to prepare for an early morning assault on one of Balmorra’s more heavily guarded Resistance outposts.
Turning to head back to her own quarters, Kandosii felt the thrill of anticipation invigorating her body and permeating her mind.  Having just been elevated to ‘Lord Kandosii,’ she knew that this seemingly routine task assigned to her by Baras would assuredly turn out to be more: a test designed to affirm her worth.
A test of what though, was the question.
“Excuse me, my Lord,” a familiar voice to her left interrupted her thoughts. “May I have a moment?”  
She turned to see Quinn approaching her with an increasingly strained look upon his face.  He stopped about five paces from her and stood silently at attention, professional as always, awaiting her answer.
“Quinn, at ease,” Kandosii replied, and closed the distance between them.  Despite her constant insistence that he learn to ‘relax,’ it was the one order she had given him that he had yet to complete to her satisfaction.  Today though, she felt an unusual amount of tension twisting within the Captain.
“What’s on your mind?” she continued, intrigued.
“I feel that Lieutenant Pierce’s suggestion that he accompany you during the frontal assault was made in bad taste,” Quinn started at once, failing to disguise the note of concern in his voice.  “If I may, I am much more familiar with both the local terrain as well as the tactics used by the Balmorran rebels.  For him to presume to know more than me about—”
“What’s the matter, Captain?” she interrupted suddenly, the simplicity of the situation finally dawning on her.
 “Afraid of a little competition?”

Competition

“That will be all then,” Kandosii finished briefing her crew and dismissed them with a curt nod. Vette and Jaesa immediately made themselves scarce; vanishing to prepare for an early morning assault on one of Balmorra’s more heavily guarded Resistance outposts.

Turning to head back to her own quarters, Kandosii felt the thrill of anticipation invigorating her body and permeating her mind.  Having just been elevated to ‘Lord Kandosii,’ she knew that this seemingly routine task assigned to her by Baras would assuredly turn out to be more: a test designed to affirm her worth.

A test of what though, was the question.

“Excuse me, my Lord,” a familiar voice to her left interrupted her thoughts. “May I have a moment?” 

She turned to see Quinn approaching her with an increasingly strained look upon his face.  He stopped about five paces from her and stood silently at attention, professional as always, awaiting her answer.

“Quinn, at ease,” Kandosii replied, and closed the distance between them.  Despite her constant insistence that he learn to ‘relax,’ it was the one order she had given him that he had yet to complete to her satisfaction.  Today though, she felt an unusual amount of tension twisting within the Captain.

“What’s on your mind?” she continued, intrigued.

“I feel that Lieutenant Pierce’s suggestion that he accompany you during the frontal assault was made in bad taste,” Quinn started at once, failing to disguise the note of concern in his voice.  “If I may, I am much more familiar with both the local terrain as well as the tactics used by the Balmorran rebels.  For him to presume to know more than me about—”

“What’s the matter, Captain?” she interrupted suddenly, the simplicity of the situation finally dawning on her.

 “Afraid of a little competition?”

The Trooper
Galatea gazed down at the well-worn blaster rifle she held in her calloused hands.  It was her father’s once, and she kept it more for sentimental value rather than practical use.  Running her fingers lightly across the scope mounted above the loading chamber, she heard her father’s words reverberate from within memories she had long thought forgotten.
Steady, Galatea, steady.  Breathe slowly, and imagine the gun as an extension of yourself… You must be absolute in your focus.
She sighed, and leaned backwards against the headboard of her Academy bunk.  She had prepared for this day for years, throwing herself into her studies, training until daybreak, ignoring all other goals and purposes.  When her commander had summoned her and gave her the news of her impending transfer to Havoc Squad, she had been filled with a bubbling mix of pride and elation.  She had done it, proven that she was the best.
Now, however, alone in her bunk as the golden glow of the Coursant sun slowly faded and cast distorted shadows across her blank walls, she felt an aching emptiness in her heart.  For the first time since her father had died, she had no clear objective, no outstanding goal to devote herself to.  In over five years, she had never once stopped to think about what she would do once leaving the Academy.
Father, what do I do now?
Shaking her head, she stood suddenly, her father’s legacy heavy in her hands.  It will do no good to dwell on the past, she chastised herself.  Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she opened the door to her quarters and almost ran headlong into her bunkmate, a Zabrak woman who towered almost a full foot above her.
“Yo, Galatea,” she laughed, backing up, “Heard about your new assignment, Congrats.  Guess this means I get the whole bunk to m’self, but I’ll miss ya.”
“Yeah…” Galatea replied absent mindedly, walking through the doorway and nodding slightly.
“Hey, where you off to?  We’re all gettin’ together later at the cantina,” the Zabrak continued, gesturing vaguely behind her.
“Target practice…” Galatea muttered briefly, and continued past her friend.
She needed to be alone.

The Trooper

Galatea gazed down at the well-worn blaster rifle she held in her calloused hands.  It was her father’s once, and she kept it more for sentimental value rather than practical use.  Running her fingers lightly across the scope mounted above the loading chamber, she heard her father’s words reverberate from within memories she had long thought forgotten.

Steady, Galatea, steady.  Breathe slowly, and imagine the gun as an extension of yourself… You must be absolute in your focus.

She sighed, and leaned backwards against the headboard of her Academy bunk.  She had prepared for this day for years, throwing herself into her studies, training until daybreak, ignoring all other goals and purposes.  When her commander had summoned her and gave her the news of her impending transfer to Havoc Squad, she had been filled with a bubbling mix of pride and elation.  She had done it, proven that she was the best.

Now, however, alone in her bunk as the golden glow of the Coursant sun slowly faded and cast distorted shadows across her blank walls, she felt an aching emptiness in her heart.  For the first time since her father had died, she had no clear objective, no outstanding goal to devote herself to.  In over five years, she had never once stopped to think about what she would do once leaving the Academy.

Father, what do I do now?

Shaking her head, she stood suddenly, her father’s legacy heavy in her hands.  It will do no good to dwell on the past, she chastised herself.  Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she opened the door to her quarters and almost ran headlong into her bunkmate, a Zabrak woman who towered almost a full foot above her.

“Yo, Galatea,” she laughed, backing up, “Heard about your new assignment, Congrats.  Guess this means I get the whole bunk to m’self, but I’ll miss ya.”

“Yeah…” Galatea replied absent mindedly, walking through the doorway and nodding slightly.

“Hey, where you off to?  We’re all gettin’ together later at the cantina,” the Zabrak continued, gesturing vaguely behind her.

“Target practice…” Galatea muttered briefly, and continued past her friend.

She needed to be alone.