Private Flight of the Lolcat

[Jerek Zenduu]

::[THEME]::

U L D A • F R A V
SILVER JEDI SPACE || TAUNGSDAY

The lightweight construction of the J-2 Light Interceptor left out certain amenities that starfighter jocks might have expected, like sufficient inertial dampeners that didn't smash the pilot up against the seat on the more violent maneuvers. Pilots of the J-2 had to be careful to execute maneuvers safe for their bodies, though the extra reliance on the Force expected by the J-2 designers meant that many of the starfighter's pilots became adept at some kind of padding themselves through the Force.

No amount of Force Padding was going to lighten the load seated on Jerek's lap today, pressing him into the pilot's seat even on the most gentle flight path.

"You'll want to keep your eyes on the instruments, don't worry too much about what's out in front of the canopy yet," Jerek told his Cathar student. He tried to resist the rising frustration inside him, putting the energy toward further patience instead, not to mention maintaining calm within his lurching stomach. Micah was actually not doing poorly, if the Jedi was being honest with himself. The kit had grown a lot in maturity and capability since their first meeting on Ossus.

The kit had grown plenty in size, too, forcing Jerek to lean around Micah's ear-shaped helmet to see the panel readouts himself.

Jerek had turned off the holographic display, figuring the extra input and media options would just overwhelm a newbie. Old school was still the best school when learning to pilot, after all. A clean system, a straight course between giant celestial bodies, and a plain, old instrument panel to keep it simple for Micah's first lesson. Still, Jerek hadn't expected it to be this challenging to teach the former Sith Acolyte, but it seemed that book study had not prepared the youngling's reflexes for the sensitive controls of the J-2.

"You're overcompensating, and that's why you're overshooting the mark," Jerek said, trying to guide Micah toward understanding instead of just grabbing the arms of his flight suit to puppeteer the kit. Not that he wasn't strongly tempted. A lot of Jerek's Jedi training seemed to fall short of satisfactory when it came to dealing with Micah, and he wondered why he had even offered to let the bookworm boy fly with him at all.

Jerek knew the answer even before his mind could form the question. Micah was his responsibility, the boy's presence at the Silver Rest was his doing, and an existence of eternal library duty was because Jerek had no time otherwise to help him.

Well, that had certainly changed as of late.

The Jedi tried not to think about that, focusing instead on the moment, recalling his Jedi training as if it wasn't as easy to him as breathing. Which, admittedly, wasn't as easy with the Cathar-sized weight on his chest at the moment.

He blew out a breath as the starfighter jerked in another direction, ire finally reaching his voice as Jerek snarled, "Try undershooting the mark for a change, why don't you?!"

Micah​

 

[Jorah zos Darnus]

[ darth lolcat theme ]
​

"Don't worry too much about what's out in front of the canopy yet."

In front of the canppy?

There were so many toggles, switches, buttons, levers, dials, read-outs, and lights that the kitten wasn't even trying to look out of the canopy. Seriously, what was he supposed to be looking at? There was a thing flashing over there. There was another thing flashing here. Just where was his attention supposed to be?

Also, it was 858 ABY. Pilot droids were a thing. In fact, not only were pilot droids a thing, the motherkarkers had been a thing since 858 BBY! So why in the name of Carnifex's Holy Whitey Tighteys would anyone in their right mind pilot a vessel? There was an app for that!

"You're overcompensating, and that's why you're overshooting the mark."

The Cathar gave a hiss.

On reflex, his ears tried to flatten back against his head, but were constrained by the ridiculous helmet. As it was, his tail was stuffed down one trouser leg of this spacesuit, which was a problem in itself. If he sat wrong, he'd get that pins and needles sensation of circulation getting cut off to his tail.

When Jerek Zenduu had suggested training, the kitten had envisioned summoning Smoke Demons, or scrying shadows, or levitating random rocks (because that's seriously what Jedi seemed to do all the time)... not this maddening exercise in futility's end!

"Try undershooting the mark for a change, why don't you?!"

Oh, great. Now there was the raising of voices!

Yes, this was very helpful. About as much as that stretch out with your feelings crap.

Seriously? Stretch out with your feelings? Weren't these the same people who said there is no emotion?

"Here's an idea! We can use a pilot droid or have a slave act as our courier," the boy snapped in retort.

"You know, like they have in the Sith Empire?"

 

[Jerek Zenduu]

"Here's an idea! We can use a pilot droid or have a slave act as our courier. You know, like they have in the Sith Empire?"

"Do I look like a Darth to you? You're not in the Sith Empire anymore," came the Jedi's sharp retort. Just what was it about this kit that made it impossible for Jerek to keep his cool? He inhaled the recycled air of his suit in through his nose, it was hardly refreshing yet it served his meditative purpose. Repeating the measure for a few seconds gave him a different outlook on the situation.

"Look, droids and slaves are a crutch that hold you back," Jerek remarked in a gentler manner. He resisted the urge to shake his head at the boy in front of him. If Micah was going to continue to act like a spoiled shut-in, there wasn't much progress he could make. The Cathar youngling had spent far too long in the Rest's library, gleaning Force knows what from the tomes stored by the Jedi. If that time studying hadn't opened Micah's mind to the Jedi ideals of self sufficiency, perhaps another approach was necessary. "Besides, I can't imagine an ambitious youngling like yourself would want anything standing in your way of greatness."

There, an appeal to his ego. A former Sithling like Micah should be able to appreciate that.

It's not like Jerek could scratch the kitten's head while it was covered by a helmet, anyway. He didn't didn't need to be the stictly traditionalist taskmaster like his old training masters had been. Then again, Micah might have responded well to Master Ulthas' disapproving stares and cutting remarks, the two might have gotten into it like a friendly sparring match. To Jerek, Micah's retorts and disobedience were simply exhausting, so he wasn't against a little harmless bribery or ego stroking to lower the kit's defenses.

After all, Master Ulthas did often say that every student presented unique challenges that required creative solutions.

He probably just didn't expect Jerek to take his wisdom so literally.

Micah​

 

[Jorah zos Darnus]

​

It was beyond frustrating to realize that his tail was trapped against his leg in this space suit, because otherwise that 'darth' comment would have totally merited a tail twap.

Similarly, his ears kept pressing against the sides of the helmet. Just how did anyone tolerate this kind of restrictive ensemble? Clothing should project power, prestige... not cut off circulation and limit your ability to move!

"You use droids all the time!" the boy tossed back at the Jedi. "Or are they holding you back from doing laundry as well?"

Hopefully, the Jedi would not take that to heart and commit to living without using droids because Micah didn't care to find out whether or not Jerek could actually cook or not. Probably not.

Also, PB&J sandwiches were not cooking!

Was he holding it steady? Just what did steady even mean? Would that be a relative term based entirely on the subjective perception of the individual at that moment in time? So how did it even apply to motion or flight?

"As an ambitious future Darth, I understand the importance of cultivating minions to do these kinds of things for me," the Cathar remarked flatly. Then paused a moment before adding, "What do you think I keep you around for?"

Jerek Zenduu​

 

[Jerek Zenduu]

A single bark of laughter escaped the Jedi teen's lips at the kit's remarks. As frustrating as it could be, spending time with Micah was at least entertaining. The young Sithling seemed to have such an absurd view of reality, at least to Jerek's eyes. He would have liked to consider himself worldly, but every so often that hubris was challenged by one more thing he didn't know or some experience he never knew could exist.

Like being considered the minion of the acolyte kit he'd rescued from Ossus.

"Well, I'm touched you consider me so valuable to your well-being, Micah," the youth offered graciously. It was getting easier to let the younger boy's more pointed comments roll off him, and Jerek took another meditative breath. The Force ebbed at the edge of his consciousness, an ally on stand-by should he need it. So far, all the Jedi Ace needed was its presence. "I like you, too, at least most of the time."

"You're doing really well, by the way!" Jerek told the kit. He pointed to the instruments that showed craft's heading was only fluctuating by a small amount now, no longer whipping about wildly. "This model isn't very easy to control, it's practically impossible for anyone who can't use the Force."

Jerek watched for a few more moments while Micah maintained their course, it was obvious the kit could learn quickly. He was grateful of Micah's aptitude here, the Jedi youth wasn't entirely certain of his own abilities for teaching yet. Seeing someone able to pick up the idea with just one lesson was a significant boost to his own confidence.

It was probably time to give Micah a few easy course corrections to make. Jerek knew how boring it could be to fly in a straight line for too long, though the reality was that starfighter piloting was mostly a boring job. It was only Jerek's personal enjoyment of it that kept him in the cockpit for the hours needed to fly a patrol or travel between points.

"Alright, let's try something different. Look at your compass, this one," Jerek pointed to one of the instrument read-outs in front of the kit. There were several of them, displaying different indicators. The compass sat in the middle, with a model representation of the starfighter in the middle of two concentric rings. "The circle around us the horizontal axis, the circle above and below us is the vertical axis, got it?"

"I want you to turn us so the horizontal axis is 10 degrees from where we are. Either direction, you pick."

Micah​

 

[Jorah zos Darnus]

"Valuable?"

Those had definitely not been Micah's words. This Jedi definitely had an over-inflated sense of self-worth... no, wait, that was every Jedi ever. For all time. Or, at least, before Micah had been born. Which was the same as ancient history as far as the Cathar was concerned.

"I like you, too, at least most of the time."

Okay, if that were true, then there should have been more ear scratches. And proper provisions for an outing such as this! Did they even have a single Fizzyglug in the cooler?

...a single Fizzyglug that wasn't diet?

Sadly, the boy's helmet staved off any hand that might have appeased the New Gods of the Sith with head pats. The Dark Acolyte of the Sith's ears were instead slapping against the padded confines of his head gear, which was possibly even worse than having his tail stuffed down the trousers of his pants.

The Dork Side of the Farce seemed to tried coaxing his reluctant pupil, reassuring him that he was doing well.

And just what, pray tell, was it that Micah was doing well? Because, from his perspective, he was just clinging to the controls for dear life whilst getting blinked to death by a myriad of flashing lights -- each more annoying than the last, if this was possible -- and having a panic attack in the process.

If that was doing really well, then it just cemented the idea that the Cathar already had that this pilot chit was not something he aspired toward.

His job was just to conquer the planets. Someone else could manage the trivial flying of things from one planetary conquest to the next. The glory of the Sith Empire had plenty of pilots. Not even conscripts. At least, not all of them were conscripts. This was more of a Sith Warrior kind of duty anyway.

Now, Jedi Master Peachfuzz was talking to him about compasses.

What, flying the damn thing wasn't enough? Now he had to do astrogation as well? Just how many child labor laws were implicated by this karkery? What about OSHA standards? What about FAA standards?

...wait, he forgot. He was dealing with Jedi. Since when did Jedi have standards? I mean, seriously, were there even bare minimums for getting into this organization? Because Micah felt like most Jedi Hopefuls he saw on the playground would have been slaughtered in Sith Academy kindergarten.

"Ten degrees," the boy echoed, as two fingers reached up to the compass. As he swiped right, the miniature map display at least told him that there wasn't anything on the starboard side of the fighter. "Uh, right," the boy chirped, deciding on a direction.

Tilting the stick, the boy turned the interceptor into a slow banking turn. They dipped on the vertical axis, bobbing along the vertical axis as the Cathar tried to keep them steady even as he changed heading to 010.

Jerek Zenduu​