Can't Stop, Won't Stop

[Isar Kislo]

Cantina
Random Outer Rim Space Station

It seemed, as of late, that Isar and Loske were very much involved charting lives similar to those of their genetic donor parents. At least, the lives that [member="Kiskla Grayson-Matteo"] and [member="Marcello Matteo"] used to live. Now the pair seemed far more concerned about running planets and reviewing tax code or whatever boring things happened at that age.

The atmosphere of the No Holds Cantina was...typical of those found on random space stations throughout the galaxy. It was completely devoid of any sensible, honest company, and it smelled like a mixture between alien pheromones, urine, and stale ale. Naturally, this made it a perfect place for the twins to lay low and recover from their latest adventure.

Since they wrapped up things on Sullust, Isar and Loske had drifted from system to system, chasing stories of injustice or grave peril. They kept tabs on the Alliance-in-Exile too. Loske, technically, still received pay from them, but Isar couldn't remember exactly the last time she'd been called into action. He maintained connection with the Jedi Order...which was much more of a communications network than a structured entity these days.

Returning to their small booth with two more drinks, Isar placed Loske's in front of hers before sliding into his seat. "So. Grungy dude with the greasy hair and stained shirt over there was asking about you." A smirk settled onto Isar's lips as he indicated a man leaning against the bar, staring daggers into the back of [member="Loske Matson"]'s head with a smile that revealed missing teeth. Clearly he was keeping his promise to his sister to send all the trolls her way.

"Don't judge a book by its cover."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

[SIZE=11pt]Loske had learned by now not to fully swivel her head in any direction [member="Isar Kislo"] indicated. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Out of her peripherals, she rolled her azure gaze dramatically and slumped slightly, extending the back of her hand toward the onlooker and shielding her own eyes. It was irksome, that someone like that considered she’d be into something so flippant. She was a romantic at heart, and therefore a preserver. Her idea of romance was not something picked up at a bar. It involved a lot more candlelight and inside jokes and maybe poetry or something. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“That’s more like a pamphlet.” She muttered back. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Thankfully, the stained fellow didn’t seem too keen to pursue, and didn’t walk over to the pair after the passive interaction with Isar. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The bar was abuzz with conversation — the kind of undertones you’d expect in the outer rim. Most people were discussing travels, fuel prices, and places where repairs were both good and affordable. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She and her sibling sat in silence mostly, until someone came through the doorway of the establishment with more flare than most who slunk through the entrance. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I need a pilot!” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Nobody really stood at first, but the outburst did swivel a few heads toward the ruckus. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The woman, quite distressed, and in a flight-suit of her own, then went from table to table. Vying for the appropriate attention. A few conversations pursued, most of the questions were [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]why [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]and [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]how much. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Nobody seemed to care about [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]where. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“No, you don’t understand, I need a really [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]good pilot.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The female was now chatting with another pair, directly behind Loske and Isar -- which made sense as to why Loske rose to her knees in her seat, draping her arms against the booth’s back and placing her cheek in her hand, smiling in the direction of the frantic woman. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“If you’re seeking a [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]really good pilot, [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]you’re talking to the wrong table.” She gestured her head to indicate the booth she, Frank, and Isar shared, was the right place to be. “What’s going on?” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Something clicked on the woman’s face, although Loske couldn’t quite place it. Relief..almost. Sheepishly, she maneuvered to where the crime fighting duo was seated. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“My ship, and my crew, it’s stranded.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“How did you get here?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The woman looked almost incredulously at the ponytailed blonde “An escape pod.” [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“What happened?” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“There was an asteroid field, we couldn’t navigate it and the ship started to get pulled into the planet’s gravity well. I need someone who can help me -- someone who can maneuver the field and then I can find my ship and crew on the planet’s surface again.” [/SIZE]

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar was desperately trying to contain his laughter, but he...could not. Loske was so dramatic about everything. Naturally, since Isar had engaged in physical relations a whopping two times, he was the resident expert on relationships and relations. Given his current status of subject matter expert, Isar knew that Loske just needed to get it out of the way. Love was not a real thing. It was a word that people used to haphazardly explain some sort of infatuation, or it was merely thrown around because it seemed 'the right thing to do'.

The clone wasn't bitter about his own relative past at all.

"For your first foray into this particular genre, you should probably start with the shorter books with lots of pictures and big words anyways." Isar offered a playful wink to his sister just as a slight uptick in commotion began to rise. The male clone's senses flared just before the first exclamation was heard.

Arching a curious eyebrow in the direction of the commotion, Isar eventually swiveled his head in Loske's direction. The taller clone just barely managed to mouth 'No Loske' when his sister turned to offer up their, no, her services. Rolling his eyes, Isar relaxed into the tattered cushions of the booth and picked up his glass. He downed the entire contents in one gulp before signalling for the server droid to bring another. "Another round over here!"

Under his breath, Isar muttered, "So we're too drunk to fly off on some damsel in distress poodoo..." Isar did not hate helping others. In fact, he loved it a great deal more than he'd likely let on. However, he felt like there were more pivotal things than giving rides to strangers.

Loske was a bleeding heart though, so it probably wouldn't matter.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

[SIZE=11pt]Loske was largely ignoring [member="Isar Kislo"]’s romantic advice, and the advice to act disinterested by a stranger’s plight! What else were they doing, sitting in a bar? [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]This is almost literally what they were made for. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Except like, at a grander scale. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Azure gaze shot daggers at her brother, lips pursed into a displeased twist and she shook her head slightly at his comment about being intoxicated, as an outward display of her reaction she pushed her glass away from her to indicate that [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]she, the pilot, would be just fine. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The tall, pale-skinned damsel was completely ignorant of the twin’s interactions, and continued to explain that her crew were stranded on a planet called Saijo. The way she spoke was eloquent, a deep concern rooted in each emphasis that she detailed out for the perky blonde pilot. Loske was totally engaged in the conversation, sitting sideways in the booth and facing the woman with eager eyes. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Bleeding heart indeed. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I can pay you too..”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Loske was about to gesture that wasn’t necessary, but realized that fuel did cost something.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Whatcha think about the base fee, Isar? Good will discount?” [/SIZE]

 

[Isar Kislo]

[member="Loske Matson"] could try to ignore Isar all she wanted. As they'd already established on Sullust, they shared a rather uniquely intense form of a Force Bond. It melded more than just their presences together, but it also affected their minds. Isar could practically see through Loske's eyes during situations where her adrenaline spiked and she him. No that he thought about it, he probably should have been steering her away from any romantic entanglements. The thought of seeing through her eyes during that time of interaction... He verbally retched, hands going to his stomach. Hunching forward for a moment, he remained in that position until he was sure the effects were subsiding.

The sound of the stranger's voice did not immediately take hold of Isar the way it had his sister. With a deep breath, the young Jedi Knight centered himself and looked up at the woman that was speaking. Eventually, Isar started to note the same things his sister already had. At the mention of payment, Isar leaned even further back into the ratty cushions behind him.

"Goodwill discounts usually apply to those performing the goodwill," Isar mostly muttered as his gaze shifted around the room. In seconds, however, it returned to the two women. The young clone's glacier-blue gaze seemed to penetrate directly through the pale-skinned damsel's soul. Silence lingered around him in direct defiance to the otherwise deafening environment. As his presence rolled over the visitor, Isar determined that, at least, the woman was mostly telling the truth without much of an ulterior motive. The fact it wasn't precisely clear, however, did give him a bit of pause. "She covers expenses, but if this turns into a poodoo show, that price goes up."

Despite his inflection and manner of speech, Isar knew that he had zero intention of actually taking the woman's money. They just couldn't be out here obviously giving out free favors, could they? It sounded like a way to get dead or abused.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She irked her neck backwards, scrunching slightly when her brother made a rather intruding noise of disgust. Whatever was going on in [member="Isar Kislo"]'s head and or stomach was startling, and even their new guest shook in slight alarm. Loske shot him a what is wrong with you look.

When he acquiesced, after correcting her -- because of course we couldn't let that slip by in front of company -- the woman looked visibly relieved. "Oh, thank you so much."

A hand wave of dismissal came from the girl. "We'll wrap up our tab here and start to prep the ship. You can hang around with us, or meet us at the docks in three hours."

The gaunt female shuddered slightly, Loske thought she looked quite alone in that moment. "I haven't anywhere to go.. I came straight here from the escape pod."

"Where's your pod now? Do you have anything you need to collect on it?"

"No."

"It may be helpful to revisit the trajectory you travelled in, it'll help improve our navicomputer's calculations. Isar and Frank could go with you to review it, while I prep the ship."

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar waved flippantly at Loske's look as he silently communicated to her. Trust me. You. Do. Not. Want. To. Know. I feel like my brain is permanently scarred from the thought.

Loske's sarcastic thanks, however, went by completely without a response from Isar. If she did not want to be corrected, then she should slow speed up her brain-housing-group to keep up with her rapid fire mouth. Which one of her parents were responsible for that? Isar was actually dying to know.

Glacier-blue eyes remained focused on the enigmatic woman. He couldn't imagine the travel on an escape pod had been particularly comfortable. Hell, the woman was lucky to have made it to this space station at all, really. Isar had been lost in his relative concern for the woman just long enough for Loske to, shocker, volunteer him for a task.

The next round that he had indeed managed to order, arrived just in time for him to keep his butt in the seat a few more seconds. Picking up his glass, the young, brooding Jedi drained the contents as if it were a race that his life depended on before sliding out of the booth. Were not for his steadily growing affinity for the Force, Isar certainly would have felt at least some effect of the alcohol.

Finding his feet with a surprising amount of ease and grace, Isar lightly slapped Frank. "You heard the lady tin-can. It's you, me, and the beautiful stranger from beyond." At the end of his comment, Isar looked up at their new employer with a roguish grin and a playful wink. "In all seriousness ma'am. We'll take care of you." Stepping forward, Isar offered the honey-voiced woman his arm.

Instant personality change. The Isar Kislo specialty.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

If frank had an augmented face, his eyes would have been rolling. Loske was weird, that was straight fact; but he'd been built for her and had grown to be quite protective of her -- as far as his artificial intelligence would support. This new [member="Isar Kislo"] hadn't earned the right to call him names. He revved up his wheels, and gave an irritated bump against the calf of the Jedi Knight, before returning to his side; away from the other sentient.

The woman rose, slipping her thin arm through the nook of the defined Jedi Knight. A custom she was not used to, but the welcoming body language was comforting -- and in the back of her mind, something felt saddened. What was it? The feeling of loss, perhaps? Or something else. "Thank you. I appreciate it...my crew will be ever so grateful as well."

Loske, who had a face and it was certainly not augmented, did indeed roll her eyes at her brother's interaction with the woman. One day, she'd track down this woman who seemed to have a grip on his heart and see how the whole conversation went down. On the other hand..maybe she didn't want to do that. Either way...she was left with the tab.

The droid rolled over and Loske dispensed the credits required, standing up with a stretch. A pep in her step, she turned and left No Holds Cantina, feeling evangelized by their new mission.

On the way to the docks
Frank's perspective

​

What were you doing over Saijo, anyway?

"I work with a team of historians and linguists, we were actually looking to head to Cantros 7 -- we'd heard there were some interesting artifacts left by the first clan of Cantrosians."

You wanted old cat toys?

The woman shook her head, brow furrowed at the disrespectful little astromech. "It had to do with the separation of groups that happened centuries ago, what technique was used to convince that many people to distrust their neighbours."

Sounds devious.

"Words can be, little droid."

At the ship,
Loske ​

​

"Are you serious, a parking ticket?"

The alien tennant shrugged, heavy shoulders barely able to lift due to the impressive body mass "You're in the wrong stall."

"No, this is the one I checked in to."

"No it ain't, you paid for B-87."

"Then what's this?"

"B-87c"

Loske flushed, embarrassed by the mistake. There goes that memory issue, flaring up again. "That's ridiculous. Why would you have two stalls that are the same name?"

"It's not the same, one's got a cee in it."

Irritated, the ponytailed pilot paid the fine -- and the man removed the boot nestled to the belly of the personal transport.

 

[Isar Kislo]

Frank's over-accentuated personality might have been cute or entertaining to Loske, but Isar was not of the same mind. This reality showed in his interactions with R8, his father's droid. The salty tin-can was like a spouse; nagging and unaccommodating. At least, that was Isar's concept of a spouse based on things he'd heard in the plethora of bars he visited with his sister as of late. When Frank elected to bump into his calf, Isar's leg almost buckled. Shooting a glare at the droid, Isar allowed tendrils of white energy to crackle around the fingertips of his left hand. It was merely the precipitating event to disabling a droid via the Force. However, Isar ceased the display quickly. Thanks to R8, it had been one of the first 'advanced' skills Isar had ever learned.

Shifting his attention to their new employer, Isar managed a charming smile. "No thanks needed, beautiful." Why. Why was he even doing this? Managing to engage in idle conversation mostly designed to get the woman's mind off her predicament, Isar was relieved when they arrived at their destination. "Hey - do me a favor. Take Frank here with you inside so he can download your navigational data. I'll be out here when you're both done." Releasing the woman's arm, Isar stepped to the outside, visually inspecting the exterior of the escape pod.

Exhaling softly, he leaned against the hull and closed his eyes. In an instant...his mind was transported to a completely different place and time.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Frank dutifully followed the woman, who pointed him to the area he could interface with the ship's navicomputer logs. Efficient as ever, he extended a component of his manufacturing and twisted to access the records. There was silence in the ship as the woman shifted uncomfortably behind Frank.

If we had eyes into what Frank was seeing, we could assume it was full of zaps and streams of binary rows. Alas, the droid's vision was exclusive to his build unless projected otherwise. And he always had to apply a humanity-friendly filter to it.

After a few moments of whirring, Frank retracted the appendage and folded it back into its compartment. Indicating he was done.

Serendipitous you ended up here. Saijo isn't a straight line.

"That's how I feel." The woman admitted, and exited the ramp with the droid behind her.

[member="Isar Kislo"]

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar's mind was transported to a world completely foreign to him. Images of mountains dumping into oceans and river valleys raced through his mind. Weapons emplacements bristled in the fading light of day and yet even more were little more than dilapidated ruins. Eventually, he saw images of violent overseers lording over a large group of detainees. Then, Isar saw their new employer struggling to keep friends and crew members alive and just barely managing to escape a brutal asteroid field. The onslaught of constant-stream images ended with the woman's arrival on the space station.

Snapping back to reality, Isar's body practically launched off the hull of the escape pod as if it were on fire. Just as he did, Frank and the woman descended the ramp back down to the hangar's deck. Glacier-blue eyes frantically searched the Jedi's surroundings, quickly ensuring he was still standing on the space station. Eventually, his eyes shifted towards the woman before falling down to Frank. "We have a problem." Deep blue eyes slowly drifted back up to the woman. "Your stranded friends are not in orbit of the planet anymore. That world you were sucked towards...is a veritable fortress. I'm fairly certain they are now hostages."

Straight like a shot of Whyren's Reserve.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The woman's already tired looking visage curled into a wan expression when [member="Isar Kislo"] delivered his considerations. "H--how do you know that? Captives?" Her voice cracked convincingly, sounding quite small in the entireness of the reality that had been dumped in her lap. The news seemed genuine to her, and she fretted her hands in front of her as they began to walk back toward the hangar where their pilot was waiting.

At parking spot B-87c​

​

If and when the folks returned back to the parking stall, although Loske predicted it may take a while because she had communicated the wrong parking spot (Alas, missing the "C"), the girl was already in the cockpit; warming the engines. The only thing she'd had to address was a fuel shortage, and a refill had been quite convenient after some searching for someone who was willing to negotiate some fair Outer Rim prices.

The folks out here were by and large strange, but helpful.

The woman had mentioned a Sajio, and in preparation for whatever Frank uncovered, she was presently charting the most efficient course to their perilous destination. As she squinted at the readings, something prickled at the back of her neck and she looked up, half expecting someone to be behind her due to the strange sense of someone watching her.

Still adjusting to the intimacy with her clone, the sparks of adrenaline and Force Bond were sometimes a foreign feeling. But something was wrong, Isar had seen something. She just didn't know what.

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar could do little more than blink at the woman. Truthfully, he was not exactly sure how he knew. Well, that wasn't expressly accurate. The Jedi Knight did have a decent exposure to psychometry, but what he'd just experienced seemed unusually vivid. Yes the images had come in a fragmented, hurried fashion, but they were clear, clearer than they'd been any other time. Further more, Isar hadn't really been trying to see. Was it part of the phenomenon he shared with his sister? Did he somehow inadvertently draw on her strength, energy?

A brief frown crossed the Jedi's lips as he considered that reality. If he could not control this siphoning of power, he could stand to do real harm to Loske or she to him. Inclining his head, Isar indicated for the woman and droid to follow him.

While [member="Loske Matson"] may have indeed parked the vessel in the incorrect stall, Isar worked off of memory and the strength of her presence to guide them to their destination. In a few short minutes, the trio walked up the loading ramp and into the vessel. Arriving in the cockpit, Isar made sure to get the woman settled into a jump seat. "We've got a situation, Loske."

Once the woman's crash webbing was secured, Isar made his way to the seat directly beside his sister. Busying himself with a few of the procedures that could only be manipulated from his side of the cockpit, Isar idly commented. "I saw images. I think her entire crew is either in captivity or on the run." Reaching above his head, Isar flipped the remaining controls that manipulated the inertial dampening system.

"The place was or is a freaking fortress." Leaning back into his seat, Isar turned his glacier-blue gaze to his sister with a thin smile. "Let's get at it."

Regardless of his previous mood, Isar did indeed live for this.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"In captivity?" Loske recited, frowning at the message her brother was delivering. She was considering following up with how could that be possible, but realized that much of the galaxy's existence was merely challenging what was possible and what was not. And with people like Jedi and Sith running around, essentially everything could be imagined. Maybe that's why there weren't that many novelists these days, reality was almost as fictional as any book someone could author.

The mention of a fortress was not something they were prepared for, and Loske cast a glance in the direction of their passenger, absently wondering if she knew how fortunate she was to have escaped. Or how lucky her crew was that someone was able to get the message out. In the back of her mind, the blonde toyed with the question of whether or not the thin, pale damsel knew about any of this.

"Frank, plug in that route travelled and we'll cross reference it with my calculations. We're looking for the least bumpy, and most incognito entrance to Saijo."

Frank whistled in response, and jutted out a robotic appendage. Whirls of binary crossed his vision as streams of mathematic calculations whirred about in cyberspace. Within a handful of seconds, the registrar beeped recognition.

"Lock it in."

I've dropped us a few minutes from the gravity well, with enough space for you to calculate how you want to make an entrance...if we're going incognito.

"We'll try." Loske responded and indicated she was starting up the engines, and the vessel hummed to life. It would have been much louder outside. The coordinates set, and the ion engines ignited; propelling the ship backwards slowly. Rotating, the views for the pilots would change from looking out to the docks to looking out at the stars. They were dots for only a few seconds, before the they modified to radiant streaks of light, absorbing the ship in an overwhelming grip of iridescence and speed.

"So..." Loske peeled her hands off the controls and shifted to face [member="Isar Kislo"]. "Plan?"

 

[Isar Kislo]

Isar lifted his glacier-blue eyes to regard [member="Loske Matson"] for a moment as she verbally confirmed his statement about their employer's people being in captivity. He, of course, did not exactly know for certain. The Jedi Knight's manipulation of psychometry had never been so...strong. Yet, he felt as if he'd been doing it for decades and was merely rusty from lack of practice. It was as if some recess in his mind had been unblocked and with the crumbling of the dam came a flood of knowledge.

As Loske communicated with the tin-can, Isar blinked his internal thoughts away. The familiar sound and feel of the humming engines were enough to ease the Jedi's mind. The peace was nearly shattered when Loske looked to him for a plan. When he glanced back in his sister's direction, an unsure expression adorned his facial features.

"Improvisation. We need to get there before we can afford to busy ourselves concocting a specific plan." As the vessel settled along its hyperspace route, Isar exhaled and came to his feet. "I need to meditate." In the next moment, he was gone from the cockpit. His head felt like it was literally going to explode.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske curled her lips inward, wide eyed and rolled them with a shrug toward the vessel's passenger as her twin announced he needed to become recluse. "Magician" she silently mouthed, as a way to explain his otherwise weirdo behaviour. She gave a definitive, short nod as if to seal the transaction and turned back to look at the screens as they triangulated the approach to Saijo.

She was still quite jealous of [member="Isar Kislo"]'s Jedi handle on things.

A few hours later ​

The green river drains 4000 miles of forested mountains and ... and scree fields and gathers into a stream at the bottom of a V-shaped valley.

Loske was slouched in her seat, listening to the pleasant drawl of Frank's read of the planet they were approaching. He'd also included a brief history of the colonies they might stumble upon. Her feet were up on the dashboard, and she unfolded them when an audible update indicated they were approaching the end of the hyper jump. Settling back into her seat and fanning her fingers over the dash, she made preparations for optimizing the stealth of their approach. Luckily, their vessel was small without much additional effort, that they'd be mostly undetected.

The damsel's fingers were curled into the shoulders of Loske's seat, which the pilot didn't love, and the passenger was looking out at the viewport as the streaks of stars turned to distant sparkles once more. They'd arrived, and Saijo's emerald surface came into view.

Loske's stomach churned at the intense adjustment of the travel; thank goodness for life support otherwise she would have been retching all over the cockpit. She braced herself momentarily as her insides adjusted and she released a heavy breath to steady herself. Hrrf.

From that, it was a matter of adjusting this rent-a-ship through the transition of Saijo's atmosphere from space's cold vacuum. Nothing likes it when a cold front meets a warm front, and when you put a vessel riding a wave in that; something's bound to heat up. Penetration was always a tricky subject matter, in space or water. At least that was consistent.

"Entering the atmosphere, can you take a seat again please?"

Balefully, the passenger did as she was told.

There was a slight rock to the ship's skeleton, a shudder that chorused through the plating that held it together as they breeched the difference, officiating their arrival with a reading that indicated they were now in contained space. The pressure fluctuated to assist in the guidance toward the planetside. It was but a handful of moments until grass was being snapped in half from the pressure exuding out the repulsors and a temporary imprint made by the landing gear.

"Alright Gandalf, we're here. Let's improvise."

Sassily bitter at her shallow end of the gene pool.