Wearing:
Padawan Jet Robes |
Corellia Digital Beats |
Go Mobile Wristlink
Wielding:
Riptide, the Lightsaber of Zak Dymo
The
J-2 Interceptor cut across the mottled sea of hyperspace.
Inside, the small pilot had curled onto his side inside the cockpit. With the seat planed out into a sleeper configuration, the Nautolan slept surrounded by an open, half-eaten bag of shrimp chips and the sound of the music that continued to resonate from out of the onboard music player that set the beats on fire as the Jedi starfighter sailed through the cosmos.
The
Whänau and its young navigator were returning to Svivren from Hoth, where the Nautolan had briefly
met with other Jedi from different sects around the galaxy. The distances involved had necessitated several stops along the flight path, not only to refuel the one-man stunt fighter but also for bathroom breaks and food.
Somewhere beyond Sullust, Zak had passed out after setting the navi-computer and making the jump to hyperspace. Now, he was blissfully passing the hours in a restful slumber to a soundtrack of the sickest beats to drop this side of Zeltros.
...the boy's eyes snapped open.
He bolted upright, a loud
thunk marking the moment that the startled youth's head smacked against the canopy that sealed the cabin away from the vacuum of space. Bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, the many tendriled amphibian seemed confused for a moment. At first, about where he was. Then, as the sleep subsided, the boy was able to regain his senses.
With one hand, the Nautolan swept the open bag of chips from off the seat and into the floor board area. With a press of a button, the cockpit shifted from sleeper configuration back to pilot mode. As the boy's fingers touched the different consoles around him, a slew of small screens popped up. Astrogation charts. Galactic compass. Range finder.
There was nothing on any of his screens. But, for a moment, he'd thought he'd heard
her voice. Felt
her presence.
Had it been a dream?
No. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that it hadn't been.
Nefertari Sovint
was here. The Force was with her.
Disengaging the hyperdrive, the wash of blue light became a brilliant flash of white that slowly split into the myriad of stars as normal space re-appeared. Or, rather, as the starfighter slid back into normal space-time. Switching the controls to manual, the Nautolan turned the starfighter.
What course? He didn't know. Except, he knew that he didn't need to.
Eyes closed, the boy allowed the starfighter to drift for a moment. His hand hovered above the hyperdrive controls, yet hadn't been touching them when the fighter had made another jump to hyperspace.