Aftermath: Not The Book (GA)

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The operation had been a success, summarily speaking. Sure, a few unfortunate souls lost their lives, and the Hope may or may not have sustained serious damage, but the GA won, so who cared?

Perhaps a few engineers, widowed husbands and wives, orphaned children, and some of the Final Order loyalists in nearby space, but really, did they matter? Certainly not to Rook. His people had gotten out just fine. The only person to walk out with any new scars happened to be himself: as it should be.

People celebrated in different ways. Rook? He went down to one of the many local cantinas on Sullust that the enlisted boys were talking about. The place was certainly lively. A live band was playing some odd outer rim music he couldn't make heads or tails of. Soldiers and their sweethearts were up and dancing, telling stories, or making sure they woke up with a terrible hangover the next morning. Even a few Jedi showed up, though from what Rook could tell, they kept to themselves.

He himself sat at the bar. He didn't know any of these folks, but there was a kinship. When someone cheered, he cheered. When a joke was made at the Final Order's expense, he laughed. When a fallen friend was recalled, he grieved.

It was a merry time for the alliance. Folks were starting to feel hope again. Rook wasn't, but folks were. He watched the going-ons from the center of the bar, sipping his Balmoraan Bluesky without a care in the world. He'd invited [member="Coren Starchaser"] and [member="Spark Finn"] for a drink, though odds were they were off being young adults in the bathroom of a convenience store somewhere.

Couldn't be helped.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The past few weeks were a whirlwind. The Alliance being founded, the Alliance taking the fight to the Final Order, and proving they could do damage to their enemies. They were gaining steam, they were making the moves and they were doing exactly what they needed to do. And a situation like this? They were getting the chance to unwind. They would do what they could to offer solace to the ones that were screened properly, and wanted to join the Alliance, but really, they Alliance had bigger fish to fry. The Final Order was causing untold amounts of damage and crimes against humanity.

After a quick shower and change, out of his armor, into armor, into a bit of a laxed example of a uniform, Coren made his way down to where he knew he’d find @Rook. He was hoping that [member="Spark Finn"] didn’t get hurt that he went down quick, but seeing the man that was covering their collective asses was important.

It was one of those relationships that Coren wanted to make sure he fueled and watered. Or payed for drinks for. He made his way down to the little cantina and smiled, nodding and offering half-assed salutes to the enlisted that recognized him for who he was and cared to stand on ceremony in this bar.

“You don’t waste time.” He laughed. Hopefully word got out to the Jedi to come on down. Who was there? [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]?

 

[Roth Tillian]

Roth swaggered into the room and over to the bar. He'd heard good things about this place and he decided it was important to check it out. A star-jockey needed to know his drinks as well as his fighter. If he wanted to keep any barracks credibility, anyways. It mattered how well one could fly and shot down enemies, but it was nearly as important who could drink the most. As far as Roth was concerned, he was one of the best. He paused when he saw [member="Coren Starchaser"] and [member="Rook"] in the same bar. Looked like everyone was hitting up the same bar tonight.

He took a spot along the bar, nodded to the bartender and handed over some credits.

"Corellian ale, with a victory swirl if you've got one." The bartender raised an eyebrow at him but got the drink and handed it to him. Roth took it with a grin and held it up as a salute. "To the Alliance!" Then he took a really long drink. Ah, now that was good.

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Rook"] [member='Coren Starchaser'] [member="Roth Tillian"]

Coren might've beaten her down to the bar if she had been one of those fru-fru girls who have to straighten or curl their hair, etc. But luckily, she wasn't. #nopeNOPEnope She happened to walk in the bar with enough time to order three beers covertly. Moving through the crowds and trying not to introvert-crowd freak-out, she edged in next to Coren and Rook.

#nicetoseethemwitharmoroff

She offered two of the Balmoraan Blueskies to Rook and Coren, keeping one for herself. "Here's that drink I owe you. It's on your tab, Coren," she grinned and took a swig.

#letthelightweightbegin

"How's that scar healing up?"

 

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You don't waste time.


"Starchaser, as of yesterday I have been shot twenty-times, dismembered twice, partially sacrificed for some Sith ritual osik, and every woman I meet is shagging my superior, or playing for the other team." Rook roared with laughter. "I like to get to the good stuff quickly."

To put it lightly.

He reached over to slap the commander on the back. Hard enough to make a sound, though he wasn't looking to hurt the guy. Even if he was a scrawny little di'kut. "Good to see you down here with the regular folks. You're a celebrity here." The quiet cheer came just as he finished speaking. A few of the boys had listened to his stupid plan. They'd choreographed it twice. Rook had a thing for making his people feel all warm and fuzzy inside, or extremely uncomfortable. Both were equally satisfying.

"To the Alliance!" He boomed at Roth, casting the pilot a big ridiculous grin. At his core, Rook was just a big teddy bear. If you were on his side, he loved you like a brother, or a son, given your age. He parted his lips to roar another cheer, but the gangly little slip of a technomancer stole his attentions.

He made a point to drain his current Bluesky -- thick and electric, it burned the throat as it went down in a good way; a purifying flame. In reality, it just gave you a quick buzz, but Rook liked to look at things poetically. It helped him forget, and that was more holy than any religion he'd ever subscribed to: Jedi views included.

"Thanks Sparky," he grinned at the lass, "It's alright. The armor kept my guts from spilling out, so I suppose I should be grateful." He took a testing sip of the Bluesky Spark had brought him. Nice and cold, just like he loved it. 'Had to get a skin graft; even so it's going to look pretty wicked for awhile, and not in the good way," another drink, "-...ladies don't dig the scars like they used to."

He shrugged.

"How are you two holding up -- meant to ask too, you driving each other up the cargo ramp?" The soldier deadpanned, "Got that vibe. Need to make sure I know before I start setting up Starboy with that pilot over there." He made a point to say that nice and loud for the whole bar to hear. If that wasn't enough, he pointed at [member="Roth Tillian"].


[member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

He clapped the man on the back and offered a ready laugh. “What we need to get you, pal, is a command of you own.” The Corellian followed that up with a ready laugh and took the stool next to [member="Rook"]. Blue eyes looking the bar over, being in one of these places, he hadn’t done that since flight school. It was always run from here to there, and a few officer messes. Even back on the Dawn Treader, there were times after a successful sortie that he’d be filling out paperwork instead of having a few rounds with the crew.

“A celebrity?” He ran a hang through his hair, to try to cover up the fact that, yes, the physics of the larger hand hitting him did create a minor balance issue. “To the Alliance!” He grinned. [member="Roth Tillian"], that was a name he saw when the man first showed interest in the Alliance. Showing up with flight school experience and an interest in mixed teams. Smart man, that one. Underground and Alliance, good soldier.

When Spark entered though, that definitely grabbed Coren’s attention. Maybe not the most affectionate couple, but did Coren ever tell you how he bombed Dromund Kaas, he was fairly sure [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] knew the real story turned the galaxy on its ass to save her from [member="Sage Bane"]? Yeah, those were the days. Now he was like… respectable and stuff.

Taking the drink from the slim blonde, he held his right hand up, palm up in a shrug as he looked at the bartender and shook his head, followed by a ready grin. “Thanks.” And yes, for whatever reason, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Hold your vomit, please, Rook. “We’re doin’ alright.” The man nodded. “I've had worse scrapes.” The Underground, at Atrisia, where he shot his own damned hand off to get away from the Sith Powergame. Turning to Roth, he gave a call out. “Get over her, pilot!” No need to be a wallflower, we’re all Alliance.

All here to save the galaxy. Even if for some it’s a side-quest.

Somethingsomethingtag [member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Rook"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Roth Tillian"]

Rook's last comment caused that reaction. She took a healthy swig of her own beer and leaned more into Coren as he wrapped his arm around her. Those red-lips of hers briefly found a spot on his grizzled- cheek. #sorryRook Spark wasn't one who usually did PDA. #LOLOL Spark was NEVER one to do PDA.

It just made her pale-cheeks redden and turn up the volume on the awkward levels. But with Coren it was a little different. He made it a teeny bit more comfortable and less awkward. Rook was probably about to ruin her current, serene level of non-awkwardness. #ItwasRook The man made pregnancy jokes in the middle of a battlefield. He was like a big, grisly, armored-up, trustworthy, annoying brother.

The blond offered a shy wave to the stranger, Roth. "Yeah, we're doing alright," she shot a sideways look to Coren. "But I think we should focus on you, Rook. I am here to be your wingwoman. Just point me in the direction of any girl you want a comm number for and I'll do it. Without techno-cheating." She grinned and took another swig of the beer. Yup, gonna need more of these.

 

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Ah, there it was, the ship sailing on the theoretical sea of literature, or something like that. Rook was never good with his words. "You see any let me know, Sparky. Problem is most of these gals are big navy women. Not my cup of tea." Not that I drink tea. "I've got a gal anyway on some Twi'lek planet. She's nice."

Of course we left as friends. It's also been almost a year. She's probably married now too. Shab.

Rook shrugged. It was the thought that counted. He wasn't the type to linger on past relationships -- especially when they barely existed to begin with. Right now? He wanted to relax with his team. His friends. That was an odd way of looking at it. Those that had served alongside him had always been his brothers and sisters, not particularly friends, though it was always implied.

Huh.

"I want to point out that we only have three people in this little fireteam Starchaser," he began, sipping his drink between words "Which means we're missing three. Now, I'm worth at least six men, but for the sake of looking proper, you need to pick three capable folks. Maybe a sniper, or a mechanic or...something we don't have." he shrugged, "All I know is that now that it's confirmed you two are kriffing, the Tyrene's gonnaa start feeling real small."

"I've already dealt with one on-crew pregnancy. That was hell." He snickered, staring pointedly at Spark. He knew that kind of joke would get her going; it was already proven. "Oh, and by the way, my real name's Alexander. Was the one I had before the droids picked me up and gave me a new one. I'm not particularly used to it, so let's stick with Rook."

[member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Coren looked up. He could understand the concern, some women dug fighter jocks, other women dug grunts. Why [member="Rook"] had chosen this bar then, was beyond him. Still, Spark was willing to help, and that would just be fun to watch. Awkward slip leading the cuddly glacier. Still, it made the Starchaser quirk up an eyebrow. “On some world?” He shook his head. “Gotta keep better tabs, my friend.”

The trio here had been on enough exercises together that it was needed, this whole relaxing time without armor and guns and explosions. Coren wouldn’t mind these kind of get togethers all the time. And then Rook was talking the team. “Yeah, we could use a bit of a sniper. And Spark can probably fix most things that have an electronics. A proper combat engineer would be smart though.

“And we can move your rack to the other side of the ship, if you’d prefer, Private.” The Corellian laughed and shook his head. And when he finally offered up his name, something Coren was waiting on, he nodded. “I don’t think we’ll be dealing with on-ship pregnancy anytime soon. Not with the war going on.” The man looked over at Spark to offer a smile.

[member="Spark Finn"]
[member="Roth Tillian"]

 

[Roth Tillian]

Get over here, pilot!

Roth paused and turned around, mug still held aloft and grinned, throwing a wink to a few of the prettier Navy officers who were around their own table. Not that he was wall-flowering, by any means. This was his usual dramatic entrance followed by interaction with as many people as he could manage in as short a time as possible before falling over. So this would be a rather interesting development then. He swaggered over towards them all, holding his mug up above the heads of those sitting at the bar. Yeah, there was some hip motion involved, but not too much. Not quite time for that yet.

Roth leaned up against the bar beside them and set his mug down, giving [member="Rook"] a half grin. "What was that I heard about you having a girl over on some Twilek world? Give me the name and I'll fly you there if you want or fly her back." He gave an overly serious nod. "Or you can work with [member="Spark Finn"] here. What do you think is best?" He gave a vague wave in the general direction of the other two. "Don't know what's on between them, but it's not my business."

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Roth Tillian"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Rook"]

"Pfffft, Rook, you sure you're only worth six men?" Yeah, she was gonna stick with Rook. Maybe Alexander when she wasn't messing around. Blue-eyes widened and her cheeks flashed a nice red close to the lipstick shade she was wearing.

"Fricken-EEeeeeh, Rook. Stawwwwwp." She refused to look at Coren. But she failed. Blue-eyes darted to the side to catch his smile. She shrunk in on herself slightly, keeping that hand up by her face to hide half her expression.

"Welcome Roth. I fully support you flying Rook to get his woman. Then his attentions will be....elsewhere." #notonCoren'sandmybedroomlife #fortheloveof #awkwardSparkwasawkward

She finished the beer and placed the empty bottle on the bartop, feeling a tingle in her cheeks and nose. "Wait. Droids picked you up and gave you a new one? Looks like you owe us a story, Rookster." Somehow that reminded her. She needed to start doing some experimenting on vong bio-tech, to see if she had the ability to technopath that shizniz.

 

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"Well, my last lady friend implied I was worth nine." He shot right back. He was in the zone tonight; sort of. He leaned back in his chair and took a big ridiculous gulp of the Bluesky. A bit of it spattered on his T-shirt, staining the white fabric. Luckily the lights were low, and he wasn't out to impress anyone tonight; contrary to his prior words.

"Her name's Qyren, and she doesn't want anything to do with me. Nursed me up when I was shot with a disruptor, put me back on the path, and sent me on my way. All the best women are in those odd colonies on the fringes of space," he shot his gaze to Spark, "-...or in the middle of a battlefield. Nice catch Starboy." He waved a hand dismissively, and drained the remainder of his glass. He vaguely knew Tillian -- guy had shown up during one of the training sims. He knew enough to recall his last name. " 'Till I see one worth my time I'll be keeping my shebs planted right here." He pointed at the seat.

A pause.

"I'll stick myself near the engines, Starboy. I like the rumble. Helps me sleep." He grinned. "As for a story...oh a story. I don't mind telling it, Sparky, but the one you've picked out is long and sad. You sure you're up for it?" He affixed the woman with a serious look. There was still humor in his smile, in his voice, but there was an earnestness to it to. Rook told his tale to anyone who would hear, but sometimes that wasn't a good thing.

[member="Spark Finn"], [member="Roth Tillian"], [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

See? Now this is what we needed. People who were able to get is around the galaxy. [member="Roth Tillian"], one of the pilot’s he knew from recruitment had made his way over. Man was busy, right? Still. He wanted to see Spark and Rook take the bar by storm. Maybe it was part of that whole… watching Spark work something? Not in that manner, but in the manner of her being her confident, and awkward self.

The Commander in the Galactic Alliance couldn’t help but laugh, and smirk as he saw Spark blush. Now that was something else. “So nervous about it, Spark?”

Nodding about the engine bit, the Corellian grinned. “I’ll make sure they’re running at just the right volume for you.” With the threat of a story, Coren reached out to get the bartender’s attention, and another round.

[member="Rook"]
[member="Spark Finn"]
[member="Roth Tillian"]

 

[Spark Finn]

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Rook"] [member="Roth Tillian"]

A sharp elbow went lightly into Coren's side. "No!" She exclaimed, shooting blue-eyes a look. "I'm only as nervous as you are." She grabbed a shot of something at the bar and downed it.

#tastedlikecinnamon #tinglycheeks

The blond's attention was back on Rook. Man was talking her up with Coren and it was making her warm cheeks even warmer. And just like Coren he knew how to rile her up. #frickenboys "Yeah, I'm sure. Had to make sure I wouldn't get thirsty." Her thin form leaned into Coren's side, getting comfortable. "You've got my attention."

 

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Rook breathed a heavy sigh. The damned droids. He shook his head. "I used to be a soldier for the Republic, I think. I can't really remember." He reached up to tap his forehead. "Droids' fault. Anyway, the Techno Union attacked Naboo a few years ago. Miss Lasedri sent a detachment of men to help defend it: the Protectorate and the Republic were allies at the time. I got caught in a spot I shouldn't be; my transport was destroyed. It destroyed my legs, and my lungs. I died shortly thereafter."

He reached over to take a long swig from his glass. "These droids came and picked me up. They picked up a lot of people. We were taken aboard some archaic lifeship. I'm told they rebuilt us. I don't really remember, considering I was unconscious the entire time," he shrugged, "When we came to, most of us didn't remember a thing. They gave us weapons, armor, sent us to various galactic powers under fake names. I don't really know why."

Rook leaned back in his chair. He cast his gaze over the trio, adopting a thin smile in the process. "I was sent to the Techno Union. Kind of ironic, really. Eventually I regained an inkling of who I was. My sister found me, rehabilitated me. I went back to work for the Republic." What a trip that was. "The droids disconnected me from the force. They made me what I am now," another drink, "I've tried to find them, but they're elusive. They show up in places sometimes. When they do, people die. I don't know why we didn't. We were proud though; called ourselves Dreadguard. People feared us, and we loved it."

He set the glass on the table. "Well, until most of us died. You two got any stories?"

[member="Spark Finn"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Why were posts so short? No one knew. Coren Starchaser was a bit better written than this, but he was trying to work it out. With [member="Spark Finn"] and [member="Rook"] both at the bar with him, that was pretty easy. He grinned at the slip of a blonde and winked. Nervous, him? Maybe a touch. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t something that was foreign to the pilot, but this situation, it made him nervous. But the fact that she was also the kind of girl who drank things that tasted like Christmas and vomit?

Still, her body against his? That was a nice feeling.

The file for Rook, when he enlisted, and when Coren pulled him into his fireteam, was a bit sparse. But he knew the man was capable. He wasn’t aware of the whole story. He knew the Union was kind of run by the Sith, maybe they needed liberating, but that wasn’t really the point of this conversation. Then the word was said, Dread Guard. He knew that. He’d heard of them. It all made sense now.

“You’re a Dread Guard. A lot of that makes sense… Are there any… more?”

As for stories?

"A few, still piecing a lot of it all together..." Spark knew, sort of.

 

[Spark Finn]

@Rook @Coren Starchaser

Sandy-brows rose. "Dang, Rookster." He was on round two, a second life, whether he asked for it or not. The pain and trauma was one thing. Losing memories and who you were? That was something else. Seemed like he and Coren had a lot in common with the memory thing. Unfortunately, she did too.

She frowned.

"Shots. Here. Please."

#duh #Corenisthedesignatedflyer #orwalkinghome #orspendingthenight #notusuallyahugger #notsupertouchyfeely #shotsareagoodalternative

And look at Coren. All about recruiting. At least, that's how she interpreted his comment. "I've got a story." Shots were set out. She downed one. Feth? Did this mean she was gonna be hung over? "But we can wait until our second date, Rookster. I'll let Cores go first." A pale hand went to push against her warm and tingly cheek as she managed a smile in the middle of grim-story-time.

#kidsstayathome

 

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A heavy sigh fell from his lips. Rook knew his was not the kind of story people liked to hear at celebrations. They wanted recounts of great victories, success, glory. A sob story would do little more than weigh down the mood. He had no intention of doing so any further. "A handful scattered across the galaxy. Some managed to have families. The rest? Not a clue. Occasionally I get reports of people in old Dreadguard armor, but those are rare. The accounts are always muddy at best." He grumbled, sipping his Bluesky disinterestedly.

Now what was that? Piecing it all together? Did Coren have something going on with his head then?

A question for another time.

"I start taking off the pants when the second date's over, Sparky, " he snorted, "Y'know I'm a deviant. It's just in my blood." He turned to look at Coren. The comment was said strictly to rile the man up, though part of Rook was sure the commander couldn't give less of a damn.

"Anyway, story, have at it. I've got all night, and this glass isn't empty yet."

[member="Spark Finn"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Coren could empathize with the memory loss. He had filled in a lot of his. It was like he was a capsuleer, after all. Jumping out of a memory loss, and relearning a lot of his past from his family, his friends, his ship. But for his own comprehension of them? That took time. Took working with Jared and Kaia and Lily and just getting himself back.

When Spark ordered shots, Coren nodded. “I’m there with you. I… I guess the best way is to say was awakened at the start of that… Rapturing event. No memories, just people who knew who I was and threw me into a TIE fighter. That was back when the Fringe Federation was still existing.”

A few years later and here he was, reclaiming his skills, and recruiting to the Alliance.

Tossing a side long glance at Rook, he shook his head. “We need to get you to that Twi’lek, don’t we?”

[member="Rook"]
[member="Spark Finn"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ijaat had been a long time 'in the black' as they called it in spacing circles and such. With him, it had been needed, really. The horrors of what he had been through had been singularly scarring, and he had wound up offering his services to this Galactic Alliance as a mercenary, fighting in a recent conflict he wasn't entirely sure of the purpose of. They paid, and they seemed to hate the Sith with a singular passion. That was all fine for him, he honestly preferred it that way after Selvaris and what they had done to him.

How he had ended up in just the same bar as [member="Coren Starchaser"], he wasn't quite sure. But part-way down into his bottle of Whyren's Reserve, Batch Number NN182, he had heard the voice. He waited a moment, making sure it was the very same voice, and then signaled the barkeep, who looked mystified as he asked for an empty shotglass for [member="Spark Finn"] and rocks glasses for he, Coren, and @Rook. He poured the precious and rare whiskey expertly and snagged a tray, walking over to them and smiling as he dipped a bit like a server would, offering out the plate with a wry grin. His helmet was clipped to his belt, the thing in a gleaming new paint job.

With the less than kempt expression, he wondered if Coren would recognize him from their brief meeting, it was obvious, in the red and gold beskar'gam, that he was no bar tender though. And the ancient sword at his side, the shotgun sheathed on his back and the DE-10's hanging on his thighs paid further homage to his heritage and the reputation that Mandos didn't know what to do with themselves when divorced of their weapons of war. As he straightened, he grinned, looking directly at Coren with a wink.

"Drink it slow gentleman, it's a rare breed, Whyren's is... But I have a case or so of it in the Chiscanti Vamci, so I don't mind sharing with the lad who made my ship the wonder it is... And if you need a combat engineer, I hear there's a Mandalorian looking for hire... But for now, to the Alliance, drink up lads!"

Eyes laughing, the man stood, the sort of cowl that his biot made around his face peeling back, revealing his hair and his full face as it rippled and rolled like liquid. He had gotten over trying to hide his vong-forming, it was what it was. And if this Rook guy really were a Dreadguard, it was an entirely moot point to be worried about being viewed as an oddity.