Delivery: Peace of Mind [Sarge]

[Hazel Scheler]

Clik.

"...I did," and then, damnit. Should have told her to get better hold music. So much for missed opportunities. Next time.

Silence.

Then...

"Thanks for helping me. You didn't have to."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Getting from planet to moon would be a several hour trip, but he was fine by that. "I always have to help." He says quietly, "Most people just don't want me to." With a smirk, he let his eyes drift shut.

"How'd you manage to get contracted into this?"

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Never one to pass up a helping hand when it was offered, Hazel made to comment to his follow up. The galaxy was certainly full of helpless bastards, she just liked to think she wasn't one of them.

"Same way I get contracted into every other odd job," replied the woman as she gave the crate a glance, "word of mouth; former clients referring me to people - in this case, apparently the CEO of the Eve Foundation is familiar with a man I'd taken a few jobs for. His were far odder, though."

"How did you end up in a turtleneck with a trimmed beard pushing security for the Alliance?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

He opened an eye to regard her, a warm smile appearing on his lips. Working his teeth into his lower lip in pensive fashion, his nostrils flared as he inhaled to get him some time while he collected his thoughts. "A good retort, Hazel." He remarks dryly, chuckling to himself without any actual humor.

"Are you familiar with what happened on Alderaan...?"

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Hazel made to motion with her hand, "Vaguely. Sith and Vong come to mind but I don't know much more than that. Was clear out at the other end of the galaxy at the time."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man gave a nod. "Well, the Lady Protector died on Coruscant, and was reanimated by the Vong - or something of a similar stripe to reanimation - in an attempt to turn her into their 'Queen,' more or less. A figurehead, if you would. To provide purpose to the masses who fought alongside the Sith against the Republic. Her base became Alderaan, a planet they vongformed into being unrecognizable.

Cater sent a fleet with my halberd as the speartip of the ground forces. The plan was not to invade, but to retrieve her - dead or alive. We got her back, still breathing, but the damage had been done.

I've spent the past few years rebuilding, becoming something of a homebody on Naboo. I'm fine looking like I walked in out of the woods in the field, but you can only spend so much time in civilization before you realize you should probably not look like you're homeless."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Lady Protector?"

The Merc's brow furrowed beneath the faceplate of her helmet, "Wasn't Cater in charge of the Protectorate? Could have sworn Lord Protector had been that man's title when I took a job with the Kuat Drive Yards for a join venture with CEC..." the woman lifted a gloved hand to her helmet as she sorted through jumbled memories, "the mission to the Quarzite space station. We were accosted by zombified workers and droids with little crystal shards stickin' out of their foreheads like a damn unicorn."

Hazel mimed the look by using her pointer finger, "Just like this...some of them had it on their chest, and I swear to you I'm not making this up."

She didn't think she was anyways. Her memory wasn't that bad. But really, where did Lady Protector fit into all this?

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"The first Lady Protector was @Cira. She was the Prex of OmegaPyre when it was first founded, and she took up the mantle of leadership when it stepped onto the galactic stage as the Protectorate. After her came another Lady Protector, Alcori, though little happened during her tenure. I believe Cater was next, followed by the short lived work of HK-51 before he disappeared.

Thus I stepped in shortly thereafter, taking it over myself. That's part of where the keeping things trim came from, if I'm honest with myself."

His head cocked to one side at her description of her assailants. "How... odd."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Sounds like the job was cursed," Hazel remarked. Probably best that he'd moved on ... if he had, indeed, moved on. She nodded, light refracting from the visor of her helmet, "Odd only barely manages to describe it." The Merc wondered very briefly what had become of that mission and the man she'd worked alongside. Cater seemed a capable, affable sort, though his fate after the fall of Corellia was anyone's guess.

"The oddness has only gotten worse over the years. Like a bad dream."

Fingers stretched and curled reflexively, the Merc released a deep breath and sat back in her seat.

"Said you knew this woman, Master Eden?"

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Somewhere between now and then, Sarge found the vague imprint of Eden. "Barely. We shared an instructor, years ago. I think she got along with her better than I did - Eden got along better, that is. Said instructor managed to take the Sith Emperor prisoner in the middle of the battle. Left me, solo, on the front line of the battle without even a word that she was leaving. Turned around, she was gone.

I never forgive something like that." He might have, but she was dead, so he didn't care to forgive.

"Never leave a man stranded like that. Middle of an enemy held world, not a warning." He shook his head.

"Regardless, last I heard she'd become a notable healer, though the truth of that is a bit beyond me."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Within her helmet Hazel felt the lines of concern and relation crease her expression. Abandonment was a painful subject to deal with but she said nothing of it. What, really, was there to say that hadn't already been said?

Hands settled upon her thighs, gloved digits slowly drumming from pointer to pinky and back again.

"Didn't stay in touch, I take it?"

And how often did she stay in touch with her comrades? Trick question - she didn't have any. They were dead.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I don't stay in touch unless I need something." He says bluntly, "And I expect that if people stay in touch with me, they need something as well." He shrugs at that, even as they approached the moon and the craft angled it's nose downward. They could take the easy route through atmosphere, but he preferred a direct insertion.

Or, as most of the men called it, 'high speed on a bumpy road.'

The craft pierced the heavens, a cone of flame forming around the nose from reentry, shaking the ship to the point it felt it would break apart. By the time it calmed and they lazily swooped across the sky, he spoke up again. "But better late than never to say 'hi,' I guess."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Well that was one way to keep one's life neat and tidy. Loose ends were messy and typically lead to drama, or so she felt. The Merc braced against the seat as the ship rumbled through atmo, eyes closing behind her visor as the roar filled the cabin. For that short span of time she relived the same experience nearly a thousand times over.

It was a noise that connected the winds between worlds.



The closest spaceport to the Katarn Homestead was Baron's Hed. A respectably-sized town on the otherwise unremarkable Sulon, moon of Sullust. The place had seen its fair share of notable history, all of which Hazel was not privvy to. Regardless, she eyed the singular tall tower stationed at the center of the town as they skated down along air currents and over the river. It looked far more important that she suspected it should for such a shanty little town.

"Seems pretty quiet here," she remarked as the transport docked, "though I suppose that's not a bad thing."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man gave a smirk and a huff of amusement at the 'quiet' remark. "I've always enjoyed the quiet, though it was often a pain to work in." What that meant, she'd likely know. But if she didn't he seemed to offer few explanations. His guards stayed on the ship, and he looked to her, blinking. "If you've the package, we can get going. It shouldn't be too long of a trip. Though, last time, I just flew the ship up to the front door.

Easier to deliver a freshly made desk that way."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"I'm not exactly the one flying the ship, now, am I?" came the Merc's response. She snorted and hiked a thumb over her shoulder towards the cockpit.

New protocol procedures, he'd find out later. Put in place within the last year. The reason would present itself in due time.




"Desk?" Hazel asked as she finished loading the package onto another transport and finding her new seat for the second leg of the trip. Considering this for a moment she shook her head and sat back, "Just one desk? Must have been a real special sort of desk."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"If I had a speeder, I'd take you on that." He admits, "But uh, I never did do 'civilian' well. I still use dropships for most of my transportation." Sizing up Ivy, he shrugs faintly, "Bodywood. I made one for Cira, though I confess I forget who he made his for. I don't believe it was for himself. I'm a bit ashamed to admit it's slipped my mind."

Frankly, the idea of making a desk because it was colored like flesh was a bit odd to his mind - or rather, it would have been once upon a midnight dreary. But anymore, it was just par for the course in this strange galaxy they found themselves in, ever changing like the tides.

But before long, off they went, and he realized with some apprehension what he feared most wasn't that someone would blast them from the sky, or tell him to stop being a prick and follow proper procedure.

No, he was afraid of coming face to face with another fragment of his past in the form of Avalore, should she be there.

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"If I had a credit for all the things that have slipped my mind over the years...let's just say I wouldn't need to be trucking around as a Merc at my age."

Wishful thinking on her part. Between cryostasis, Sith lightning straight to the head--twice--and every other knock-about and blunt force trauma she'd survived it was a miracle she wasn't more 'borg than human by now. She certainly was well on her way, though. But at no point would complaining ever do her or her ancestors any good or honor. Merc life was all she knew anymore so it would have to do and suffice until the day it killed her.

Hazel had far too much wanderlust to remain aboard a big fancy ship as some Sith Lord's Mistress. No matter how beautiful his blond hair was.

"Thought about maybe sticking around the Alliance area for a bit. Seems a nice place. Quiet-like. Though I do question any military agency that puts someone like you in a turtleneck..." she chuckled, helmeted head turning to look at him, "guess I can respect a want to retire."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]