Hyperspace

[The Thruvarans]

He dismisses the "not a good place" comment as so much voodoo....again. He has more to focus on, and presses further, now incensed. He didn't take threats well, and he wasn't about to be intimidated by a force user.

"Medicine is an exact science. It takes years of discipline to just understand the theory, and then years of practice before you're ever let near a sentient. It's not something you're born with, and it's certainly not something that's ever used towards violence. But I've seen plenty of the Gifted do precisely that, even when they fight for some noble ideal or have good intentions. As far as I'm concerned, it is primitive. Power like yours isn't something to be bandied about, but the vast majority of you do so with abandon, for lack of training or sheer inebriation."

His eyes narrow involuntarily, but perceptibly.

"And if you think that making superpowered threats is the best way to deal with differences of opinion in this, our polite society, then you've implicitly proved my point," he hisses, adding "Madame Diktat" formulaically, but almost sarcastically.

[Jet Almeara]

Jet was practically simmering in rage now, and it was true many years ago that rage would have manifested itself with allot of destruction but Jet had learned much since then and even - sometimes to her dismay - grown as a person. This man was infuriating and distasteful and she'd like nothing more then to toss him out an airlock but...the fact remained that he was loyal to Taaru and by the code of her very own Order she would die for him if the need arose, weather he knew it or not just based on that fact.

That meant unfortunately that she couldn't kill him. She smiled sweetly at him, because if she continued to glare it was likely she would punch him. "I don't make threats. Threats are pointless words spoken by people who feel the need to posture. As you yourself just pointed out some of my fellows lack the control that I have. It was merely advise." She might have enlightened the man - told him how much training and theory had been drilled into her skull over years and years of work...but it seemed pointless and would only further an argument Jet no longer wished to have. "I appreciate what you have done so far and should Taaru pull through this and recover then you will have my undying gratitude." She continued in a sincere tone, returning to the common ground they shared rather then the differences of opinion that had led to an argument.

[The Thruvarans]

Mikhail expels airs through his nostrils...a half-hearted "Hmph" that sub-consciously betrayed that he knew he was being played for a fool.

But his mind was already elsewhere, plans within plans regarding his commanding officers recovery, and so he figured this a good break in the conversation to excuse himself. He didn't owe this Corellian Diktat anything beyond what his commission by the Council had mandated, and civility wasn't necessarily on his commission.

"Alright then," he said finally, playing the fool act as would be expected. "Glad we have that understanding then. But I have to get back to my patient. Updates to follow."

Medicus exit.

[Jet Almeara]

Jet watched the man leave, she was under no illusions about what he thought of her - but that was unimportant, he didn't have to like her, he just had to do his job. But by all the hells of Corellia she found herself hoping she never fell under his knife. She wasn't entirely sure he'd bother putting as much effort into saving her - doctors oath or not.

As he had left Jet returned to her vigil, where she would remain.

[The Thruvarans]

The knife edge of a warship cuts through darkness, space-time echoing in its wake.

Aboard are small souls, with small hopes and small worries.

And yet, these will make all the difference.


<<Star Wars: The Wayfarers - Episode 3 - Power Over Nothing - - - - Fin>>

[Taaru Masako]

<<Prologue>>

10 years ago
Serenno, Serenno System, D'Astan Sector
30 km outside Fiyarro, the Summer Capital

Snow falls on the rain forests of Serenno for the first time in three millennia....that is, if they can still be called rain forests. Rivers run thick with ash where they aren't frozen. The fluorescent trees are dead or dying, where they aren't burning in the raging wildfires that persist despite the cold. The sky is a deep, unsettling black, plumes of smoke rising to it from every direction on the horizon.

It isn't just Fiyarro... outside the winter capital of Carannia, the ocean runs thick with spilled industrial waste and debris, blown into the ocean by blast winds of a thousand km/hr or more. What used to be the sprawling boulevards of one of the wealthiest cities in the galaxy are molten to a murky obsidian, the remaining structures scorched with contorted, surprised silhouettes....

Saffia, birthplace of the legendary rebel demagogue, Count Dooku di Sarzano, has been burning for five months. Families that fled are starving to death in the wastelands....those that stayed were cooked alive in their basements, as the heat of the conflagration spread.

Serenno, a shining, galactic gem of nobility, self-reliance and charity, is dying, consumed in the nuclear crucible of the Scythian Traverse campaigns.

[...]

Two figures pick their way through the blackened and charred wasteland of Fiyarro's rain forests, evidence of vegetation already being erased by a blanket of snow.

Despite their armor, they are freezing, and must do their best to avoid the temptation of nearby pockets of continuing fires, knowing from experience how quickly they can become deadly.

They carry their rifles slung over their shoulders....there is no point in keeping them at the ready anymore, and barely a point in keeping them at all.

"You know," the man wearing red armor says over the comms, as both their suits are sealed against the now poisoned atmosphere, "it will be a year next week, since we got here."

"I don't plan on being here for that," the woman replies, her once purple armor seared black with carbon, for the most part.
They continue a ways in silence, helping each other over obstacles -- fallen trunks, mostly, but also a downed dropship -- as is necessary.
"Do you remember that first week? After Saffia?" she chimes up, feeling guilty for having been so dismissive earlier.
"Yeah....it's a shame we can't breathe outside of our buy'ce, cause something along those lines would be pretty nice right now."
She laughs for the first time in a while, though the tiredness in it is evident to both of them.

"I'm having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, I don't think I could manage that sort of work out right now."
"Maybe when we get back, cyar'ika....that should give us some motivation."
"Jagyc'adate, shi mirdir'la ti gar bes'kade. Have you considered that we won't MAKE it back before the last ship leaves?
"Elek, I've considered it..."
More silence, snow crunching beneath their boots, the roaring of distant fires.
"What are we going to do when we get off this rock?" she asks, the playful tone dropped.
"I've considered that, too. Ever been to Bela Vistal?"
"Ooohhhhh...." she sighs, bright and vibrant images of a distant Corellia being drawn into her mind despite her reluctance to revisit them, "those mountains.....!"
"We've a nice pile of credits put away now.....maybe a little place overlooking one of the crater lakes...."

She stops in her tracks, and he, puzzled, stops behind her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asks after some time.
Then he sees them, too. A huddled corpse, it's seared, cracked, black arms holding two smaller corpses to its chest. An inch of snow lies on them.

Her face can't be read past the T-slit of her visor, but he feels her reaction.

"That just seems so far away, right now," she says finally. That seems impossible right now, he feels her say.
Eventually, she keeps walking, and he, pondering only for a moment, follows.

"Oya. We need to make the rendezvous by nightfall..."

Star Wars: The Wayfarers - Episode 4 - A Monster Among Monsters

"Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehen, dass er nicht dabei zum Ungeheuer wird. Und wenn du lange in einen Abgrund blickst, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein." --F. Nietzsche, Jenseits von Gut und Böse (Aphorism 146)

[Jet Almeara]

Had there been a ship in the vicinity no doubt it would have been quite startled by the sudden appearance of the Faustus as it burst into the edges of the Coruscant system, if it was smart it would that have quickly fled fore the Faustus was no lowly freighter and her size more then enough to be considered intimidating even if one didn't know the array of weapons on her hull.

But there was only silence to greet the white ship as she milled about in space she probably didn't need to be cruising through. Not that it would matter - all to soon the great ship would become little more then a phantom in space, her presence - hopefully unregistered.

For Jet it had been a long 5 days travel from the scene of their last mishap - for Taaru, probably longer as he still struggled with the bleak unconsciousness that had gripped him since his fight on Rendili. Jet had spent most of those five days keeping an eye on him, with Jorunn as her constant, albeit quiet, companion - though there was little to be done but wait. She had paced the room until she knew it's measurements by heart, five paces to the door, three from the bed to the transparisteel window looking out into the rest of the med bay, only one from the chairs to the bed itself. She knew that she prefered the left chair to the right as the right one had a curious issue with its stuffing and was somewhat lumpy...but most of all she knew the general frequency of Taaru's nightmares - could almost predict the times when he would be grasped in the very worst of it.

And it infuriated her. Because she could do nothing...either to forestall them or help him, she tried to project an aura of calm and peace when the worst occurred because surly her distrought anger wouldn't do anything to help. She wasn't entirely sure being calm did either. But what else could she do? Jet wasn't built to stand miserably by and wait patiently..and yet thats almost exactly what she was doing because more then anything else she refused to give into the notion that he might not wake, may not recover. So she stayed...and she watched...and she waited.

[Avery Heartshorn]

She didn't know what to say, or what to do, especially in these sort of situations. Taaru was stable, but the daily news never seemed to go anywhere- in either direction, good or bad. The days were passing slowly. Avery would show up daily, standing beside the entrance but never going in. She'd swing her body around the corner, looking in on the people waiting around, but when their expressions never changed, she would wince and swing back out of sight.

These sorts of things were not her expertise, and really- to be a caring doting girlfriend type to Miko was still a bit out of her league. If he caught her eye, she would give a sympathetic smile, reach her hand out for his, squeeze gently, and disappear again. She didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do to comfort him. It was all a strange ordeal to her. A strange daily ritual that had occurred... and all she wanted was for Taaru to wake up and for everything to normalize- but as time wore on it was becoming more and more of a silent prayer in the back of her mind.

[Erika Freeborn]

How many days had it been since the utter mess had happened on Rendili? Five, she was pretty sure of it. Well it didn't really matter per say. Jet had basically locked herself in the med labs ever since they brought Taaru in there and as much as Erika wanted to check on his progress and make sure her aunt was doing okay, there was no way she was going anywhere near that area. Besides there was enough people waiting around and should things change, be it for better or worse Jet could certainly let her know via a message.

For now Erika spent most of her time helping out Darren and the other mercs with whatever jobs were needed to be done. Some were those annoying menial jobs that most hated but hell if it kept her away from the med labs and even relatively busy they were fine with her. In fact her own wounds had healed just fine thanks to a couple of bacta patches so any and all work was welcomed right now.

[Jorunn Grimsdottir]

Jorunn sits and waits.

The moment Dr. Cottle allowed visitors, she was the first to set her foot in the room, though she had been perturbed to the point of indignation that this woman, who even now shared her silent vigil, had been right behind her. No matter what Taaru was to her, it wasn't what he was to Jorunn.

In the days since the Faustus had made its emergency jump from Rendili, the Thruvarans had gotten back to business as usual: Maintaining equipment, training, spending hours and hours in the Starviper flight simulators. This had been largely thanks to Miko, who, despite his close friendship with Taaru, had only had brief occasion to visit. With the duties of the commander of the marine detachment now falling to him, he was kept plenty busy, and insured that both the Corellian marines and the Thruvarans were kept busy in turn. It was simple pragmatism in the face of grief and mourning, the kind that the Thruvarans had learned from the Mandalorians in their many centuries of cultural exchange.

It wasn't to say that anyone had given up hope on Taaru just yet, however.....he was a sort of living legend to his people, and for him to not pull through seemed more outrageous than any of the stories Reiter would tell each other during rec hours about Thruvar's favored son. But what they did do was move on....and prepare, if necessary, to recite his name in the daily aay'han, if that was their creed.

Jorunn herself was given leniency, however. As next of kin, she had certain rights and obligations to attend, one of which she had already fulfilled. She was torn, however…staying hear meant she was letting the others down, but training with them meant she would be entirely neglectful as a daughter. She knew that this was a priority, without a doubt. But this did not keep her from doubting her actions.

[...]

Despite her misgivings about the Diktat spending as much time in the med wing as she did, she did take the time to surreptitiously observe her father's associate. What troubled her most was that Al'Meara looked more worried than Jorunn herself was. The situation was grim, yes, but not in the way that Jet's body language and fretting seemed to reflect.

Eventually, this begins to eat away at Jorunn.....realizing finally that Jet could likely feel things she couldn't, she was quickly consumed between what precisely Jet was perceiving, and the culturally ingrained superstitions regarding the Gifted. She knew, of course, what her father could do.....in Thruvaran society, this was barely tolerated, and had been one of the reasons Taaru had spent so much time away from the Migrant Fleet and the Diaspora in general. But with recent success and incontrovertible proof of his loyalty to his people, tolerance had begun shifting towards adoration.
Yet even then, she had only ever seen what he could do, and he had often told her that what she could see was the extent of what he could do with his Gift. He’d once compared his use of the Force with the majority of Force users as being the difference between educational philosophies…..his was for praxis and employment….everyone else was just flexing their academic credentials and arguing about theories that ultimately didn’t matter.
She knew what her father could do…..but not so with this Corellian. To her, she was just another Gifted….unsettling at best, demonic at worst. Could she trust that Jet’s worries reflected a deeper knowledge of the situation, something that only she could gather? Or was this sixth sense to be questioned as so much deceit and magic, as Thruvarans had done for centuries?
Thus the turmoil, to which she had no easy solution.
If only he’d just wake up….

[Jet Almeara]

Jet was far from a people person - unless that person had spent a great deal of time, think years or months, in her presence she was liable to ignore them. She'd come to the conclusion that most people preferred flying under her radar in any case and Jorunn's comrades had made it quite clear how they felt about people like her and Jet had known - and summarily ignored - the fact that she was annoyed by her presence. Jorunn's feelings, as understandable as they were, were not important to Jet.

As the days drew on however it soon became impossible to ignore the blondes subtle observing nature and Jet found herself considering her further. She was something of a mystery to Jet- in fact Jet hadn't even known of her existence until Taaru had brought along as part of this mission. She didn't fault him for this - everyone had their pasts, but it did after a time begin to pique her interest. Observing Taaru for a few moments longer she finally sighed and looked at Jorunn breaking the aloof detachment they'd both kept with one another despite sharing the same room for so long. "I don't think he's going to wake today,I don't see any change" She expressed in a sincere tone, more to break the silence then anything else.

[Avery Heartshorn]

Avery had ducked out of sight for today.

Her room was big enough for her to feel lonely, but small enough to feel claustrophobic. She sprawled out on her bed with a book, but found herself stopping to look out into space, blurring her eyes to the point where when she finally blinked they would water up. She rolled to her back, the book discarded beside her as she closed her eyes and sighed.

Miko had been extremely busy with Taaru still unconscious. He had things to do, people to see, girlfriends to fall out of the important lineup. She wasn't mad, she couldn't be. Avery was just lonely. She couldn't remember the last time she had a boyfriend, let alone anything near it. Sex was one thing, but companionship was a whole other genre- and Miko was a genre she had yet to really dive into.

She heard a small noise and looked up to the door, but nothing happened. There was no good news coming her way. Closing her eyes again, she let her head roll to the side. At least sleep came easy. There was nothing to do but sleep and wait at this point, and it was really easy to do both.

[Jorunn Grimsdottir]

Her temples furrow slightly as Jorunn’s auricular muscles flex, a personal tic she has when someone is speaking to her, but is barely conscious of in most cases.

She has been curled up on the seat of a chair, having drawn her knees up to rest her forehead on them. She hadn’t slept last night, her dreams too vivid and horrible.
She looks up finally, and fixes her gaze on Jet, her vision swarming temporarily with black patches, as blood rushes to her retinas again.

She wonders, briefly, why Al’Meara has waited this long to say anything, then extends the simple courtesy of a response.

“He’ll wake up when he’s ready. He’s always been a heavy sleeper, as long as I’ve known him.”

It was a bad joke....maybe a little in poor taste, but it reminded her of mornings when she had been the one waking him up.

[The Thruvarans]

The door chime at Avery's door sounds, a melodic "bing-bong" of simulated bells.

[Jet Almeara]

Jet doesn't press for a response knowing that Jorunn hadn't been sleeping well, an affliction that Jet thankfully did not share - she was a light sleeper true but she could drop off at the drop of a hat regardless of the troubles in life. Something she had learned to do during the invasion. Nothing like hiding out in a cave while vong tried to kill you at every turn to make sleep a loved and precious commodity. When Jorunn does answer Jet's lips twitch in a slight smile. "I'm just amazed he has remained so long in one spot without dismantling something. The ship droids are likely running amok without the fear he inspires to keep them inline." She mused with a glance towards the door as though expecting to see a droid riot marching through the hallways.

"I'll have to take your word on the heavy sleeper bit" She told Jorunn "But since you've known him decidedly longer then I have I'll trust that word is pretty good"