Golden plains

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

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ANSION ATMOSPHERE.​

The whys and the hows don't matter, but for the first time in either of their lives Kiskla and Marcello were sharing a vessel. And it wasn't chauffeured as Mandalore had been.

It was going alright.

Both were boastable pilots in their own right, though Marcello had more applicable knowledge over the past year or so. Kiskla was beginning to spend more and more time in shuttles. But they were in one of her ships, which was clearly marked for The Republic. Which was okay, because the place they were venturing had reached out to them, wanting to come back to the security offered by the galactic senate. Ansion had an enviable trade route, but the planet itself was worth investigation.

The pair entered the atmosphere without qualm, aside from their fuel tank being threateningly low (who's fault that was had yet to be determined. But Kiskla was assured it was Marcello's). The Naboo native was at the controls, it was his turn after all, but that didn't mean Kiskla was sitting back in a recliner. Be it her attraction to the spacer, or her desire to remain in quasi-control, she was still hovering near his seat; staring out the view port.

The scene that displayed wasn't outstanding by any means. It looked mostly flat, overpowered by neutral tones. Not a single strata block or architectural marvel was visible anywhere. Then again, they had only just entered.

"Something doesn't feel right." Kiskla murmured, folding her arms on the back of [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s chair and shifting her weight to meet the height adjustment. Kiskla had been practicing her empathetic skills, to be more productive and useful as a leader; courtesy of her friend Rosa Gunn. The planet itself felt fine, calm even, but there was something deeper that hosted an unsettling tone.

Her peripherals picked it up just milliseconds before the radar; two small shuttles flanked the sides of their cruiser. That feeling intensified.

She mumbled again-- and yes she talked this much when it was just her lonesome-- "Hmph. Small planet to have a welcoming party."

Static filled their speakers while the shuttles outside tried to make a connection. It didn't matter how good their technology was, the reception on Ansion was terrible, and both [member="Marcello Matteo"] and Kiskla didn't hear anything but the pops and hisses over their airwaves for a handful of irritating seconds.
Finally, a voice broke the static:
"Republic aircraft. Make no move to defect from your current flight, any sudden movements will result in you being fired upon and death. State your business in Ansion."

A welcoming party, it was not. They weren't to break out the streamers or confetti anytime soon. Out of a usual habit of irritation, Kiskla's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. Strange-- she was here because they'd expressed interest in peaceful negotiations and onboarding with the senate. Though, they weren't outright expecting her. But still! The Republic vessel should have been enough!

"Open the --" Kiskla realized it would be easier to just do it herself. "I'll do it." A telekinetic application pressed down the button that opened the channel to the Ansori shuttle.

"Republic ambassadors," mostly.. ambassador and friend? "Visiting in response to the correspondence sent by the Ansori senate. We're coming in peace."

She waited for the response. Only static came. Apparently their reception was worse than one could have thought!

"There was no request sent to The Republic. State your purpose. Any defection from this route will result in your being fired upon."

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello had...enjoyed the trip thus far. If he was being honest, he didn't much care where he was when in Kiskla's presence. However, this was certainly the longest time they'd spent together more or less completely alone. The truly shocking apart about it all was that she hadn't irritated him to the point of going insane. Well...when he'd been doing a handful of calculations prior to exiting hyperspace, he'd actually realized their fuel state would eventually be an issue...depending on what happened during arrival. It had been mentioned, but there wasn't anything to be done about it in the middle of space.

Even more surprising, he'd resisted the urge to make a snarky comment about it to [member="Kiskla Grayson"] other than to mention it may be an issue. Fast forward to now...with the beauty hovering over his seat, the smell of her skin and hair threatening to pull him completely from focusing on the task at hand. The Naboo native had been silent until the second threatening communique from their 'escorts'. "Well at least we have plenty of fuel should this go sideways." Tilting his head back, his glacier-blue eyes eventually found Kiskla's own blue gaze for a brief moment which he met with a smirk and a harmless wink.

Returning his attention to the controls in front of him, Marcello reached out with his right hand as it danced over the alphanumeric keypad next to his right leg. "You should strap yourself in." Despite his love for the woman behind him, Marcello's tone clearly indicated he had slipped into a more focused, analytical state of mind. In less than a minute, he'd dispatched an encrypted packet of information containing the details of their position and most current operational status of their vessel. It would take time after bouncing through the holonet system along the nearby trade route, but it would eventually be received on Anaxes. Following that, he took another minute or so to override the vessel's automatic power distribution system, sacrificing on things like climate control and certain auxiliary housekeeping systems to provide more to the reactor and generators.

Finally, Marcello looked up as he slaved an overlay to the heads-up-display which would enable him to track movements of vessels around the Defender-class Corvette...to a point. He'd have inputed a waypoint for ideal locations of cover but...there wasn't much to speak of on Ansion. He did, however, input markers for the major population centers...which he had a feeling they might be wanting to avoid. Kiskla was right...something wasn't right, and he had a sneaking suspicion the local Oligarchy wasn't going to be terribly welcoming. "See if you can reach out to the regional government and find out what the hell is going on."

Marcello didn't want hostilities to break out, but he believed in being prepared.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Well at least if they were fired upon, the amount of fuel they had would keep them from birthing a new sun from the gauge. [member="Marcello Matteo"]'s wink induced an eye-roll from the girl. Then came some commands, to which she had never been very good at taking; which was why she worked her way to the top of the food chain.

"'Strap in' doesn't sound in accordance with 'Don't defect from the course'." Kiskla mentioned pointedly,

Nor did strapping in work hand in hand with the secondary command she was tasked with. The communication up front were nearly failing for something as near in proximity as the escorts on either side of them, she could only imagine how pathetic they'd be to reach the epicentre. Before she moved closer to the ship's main holocomm, she gave the pilots shoulder a pat. "Try not to agitate them too much. See how long you can stretch the conversation." If they were lucky, maybe the Ansion pilots would tell them not to defect all the way down to the landing pad. She leaned over the seat to deposit a quick peck against his cheek, though it was contingent on her instruction not to damage the little aircraft. She quite liked it.

In the meantime though, Kiskla navigated her way pass the bridge to the main conference room. As soon as the door hissed open for her to enter, she stumbled slightly to the right from an external jolt. Had she the ability for x-Ray vision, she would have seen the two Ansion shuttles locking up on either side of them, knocking against the side hatches in warning. Though she couldn't see it, she could assume as much.

"Master Grayson, how can I help you?"

The Kiffar nearly jumped out of her skin. For the most part, Kiskla tried to keep the golden operative droid busy and out of her hair. She hated droids, they made her remarkably uncomfortable as their programming (she believed) could only stretch so long. They were bound to be a peril at some point. It's gold, unblinking eyes stared at her until it received communication in exchange.

She huffed slightly, before maneuvering around the conference table; keying in the commands to bring the central communicator to life. "Make sure the channels the bridge is using for communications and this one remains separate. We've already seen how pathetic the signal is, and Marcello can't afford interruption to his feed."

"And internal comms?"

"Secondary concern, Cee-Two. Make a division first. Then see if you can expand the scope of this transmitter."

"Right away, Master Grayson." The droid turned and whirred about his tasks, leaving Kiskla to tinker with the device. As good as she was at talking, she was not good at setting up the means to do so. Plotting schematics through hyperspace? Fine. Making sure a tricky signal sustained a radial expansion? Not so much.

The blue gram in the middle of the desk flickered and swayed while her slender arm remained beneath the desk, toying with the controls to maintain the frequency. "This is Republic representative, Kiskla Grayson responding to the request for Republic assistance. My aircraft is witnessing some resistance on descent. Do you have a clearance code to relay to the aerial guards?"

There wasn't a reply, so she shortened the message, repeating only the vital information. Her identification, then her problem. Then, she expanded the channels, surfing through the net to pick up on something more official. She even spoke in a formal request to be directed to the regional government. She was met with holo silence until a blip indicated she was being picked up somewhere in Cuipernam.

Okay, good start!

"This is Letual Vord of the Unity Council."

Kiskla swayed slightly, gripping onto the rim of the table to steady herself from the outside influence. "Councillor Vord, we received a request from the President for Republic assistance."

"We don't need assistance." The single-nostrilled alien looked perplexed, maybe even worried. His tone was curt, but uncertain. Kiskla frowned, wishing she could see more of the scenario than just the forefront.

"I have access to the request, I can show you. Once we land, though. In the meantime, our vehicle isn't being permitted."

"Ambassador.. Grayson. Ansion is doing well in its independence. We want no part in your war."

She frowned. She was just here weka ago with a hoard of other intergalactic giants and Ansion had played just. That had been their introduction to the war.

"Then we'll be allowed to depart in peace at least?"

Static. Convenient. She was met with static.

"No, no, come on, hey--" Kiskla muttered to herself, ducking beneath the table to re-establish the connection. "Cee-two! Get the strength back up in here!"

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello merely shook his head at [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s departing comments. The peck on his cheek, however, did momentarily stall any reaction. As a thin smile crept over his lips, the Rogue Master straightened in the seat slightly. Drag the conversation out. Right. It wasn't long before the first light 'kiss' from their escorts nearly caused the vessel to momentarily lose control. Given the fact they were flying relatively slow so as to appear non-threatening, and the respective airflows of the three vessels were already pushing them around inside the turbulence envelope...it wouldn't take much to create a much larger problem.

Quickly, Marcello reacted to keep the vessel stable which involved momentarily adding just a touch more power to keep laminar airflow spilling over the vessel's control surfaces. There were several more demands from the escorts but Marcello continued to ignore them, expanding his senses enough to have a bit more warning if they decided to get aggressive again. Naturally....they did. Before they could, however, Marcello reached out through the Force and warned Kiskla to hold on.

Abruptly, the Naboo native applied a brief pulse of thrust to the repulsorlift engines at roughly seventy-five percent. The result was a not-so-dramatic but sufficient increase in vertical velocity that caused the Republic spacecraft to sail just above the two Ansion shuttles. Unfortunately, the Ansion shuttles were caught in the downdraft of the repulsors and rapidly began to lose control of their own vessels. Marcello could not see it happen, but he knew enough about physics and the effect of rapidly-changing turbulent airflows combined with the somewhat common desire to make abrupt corrections when smooth, controlled inputs were needed. There wasn't a massive explosion because they weren't on a movie set, but the colliding of the two shuttles was all too easy to sense through the Force.

Wincing slightly, Marcello merely kept piloting the vessel along its current course. As Kiskla and their welcoming party had respectively requested, he kept her ship from breaking and did not 'defect from his course'.

You're all welcome.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The static had been purposely fed, and it was beyond C2's capabilities to override the commands. The blonde was fiddling with the stream when the crunch below Crimson III's belly occurred.

For a flicker of a moment, her visage turned questioning.

(gif here).

She didn't have time to stomp out of the room and ask questions though. A cyan silhouette caught her attention on the communications table. The contact was hunched, with scattered eyes. They spoke quickly and almost uncertainly -- they were also in expensive looking garb. They tried to speak, but no audio was received. A few seconds of a moving mouth occurred without benefit and the image slurped away.
"This is ridiculous." Kiskla muttered, just as the golden machine returned to the room.

"The connections were supported by the hotspot the indigenous shuttles provided. I can't strengthen the signal, it's too minuscule. I'm sorry Master."

"Son of a murglak," Kiskla muttered. Long-legs made for quick travel, and in a handful of moments the soles that had been in the communications room were now in the bridge once more. Those internal comms were pretty well down too.

"What in the.." The skies were clear on both sides from opposition. She moved forward, brow furrowed - "What did you do?"

Anyways, whatever he did, they had to do something else soon. The fuel support was pathetic, whoever was to blame. If they wanted to get out of the atmosphere, they'd need more-- but Kiskla was wary of the city after her transmission. They'd have to go in without the Republic markings, make the purchase, and bring it back. Or something. Otherwise, they were a sore thumb. Especially since [member="Marcello Matteo"] had indirectly caused an aerial kerfuffle. "Oh awesome." Kiskla realized what had gone on, and exhaled to prevent speaking out without purpose; "As if we weren't welcomed enough. " whoops, never mind. "You can't go into the city, there's no way now. There's something amiss and.." The fuel thing. She avoided saying anything about it directly, because in the back of her mind she had a sneaking suspicion it had been her responsibility. ".. And two downed shuttles does not help our cause. Take a path to the foothills." They were small, but offered at least some dynamic beyond the stretching plains. "See if there's somewhere to settle."

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "How about you just sit down and leave the specifics of piloting to me. Thanks." The Rogue Master's comment wasn't intended to be derisive. He, quite honestly, just wanted Kiskla to chill out and stop fretting. Despite the fact she would undoubtedly argue that she was a beacon of serenity, she was not giving off the particular vibe. He was only here because she'd asked for his assistance, and he was doing what he could to keep them both alive.

Now that their escorts were, well, otherwise occupied, Marcello applied full power to the sublight bank. As the vessel began rocketing towards the surface, he threw it into a hard bank to the right - completely ignoring whether or not [member="Kiskla Grayson"] had managed to strap herself in. At this point, their best bet was to dive below radar coverage, fly a considerable distance along a random counter-surveillance route to a landing location of optimum cover. It would, at least, give them the greatest survivability window on the ground. Fortunately, Marcello had displayed the presence of mind earlier to prepare for such a scenario as the heads-up-display was already providing him with the requisite information.

Leveling out the relatively medium-sized spacecraft, Marcello exhaled softly as the vessel broke into the lower atmospheric levels of Ansion on a sharp arcing trajectory. The instant they were firmly within the lower levels of the planet's Troposphere, Marcello applied thrust to the repulsors and adjusted his course sharply back to the left. By the time they dipped to relatively fifty meters above the surface, he'd reoriented the spacecraft such that they were flying directly south of their original course. Following several more mostly random course changes, Marcello finally brought the vessel onto a final approach towards an area of saturated rolling hills. The computer wasn't going to calculate an exact approach trajectory to a completely random point, so Marcello was manual the entire way in. Managing the horizontal and vertical velocity with as much finesse as the vessel would permit, the Rogue Master set the vessel down in the trough of a series of rolling hills.

Before he could even shut down the engines, all systems on the vessel went to shit. The Naboo native did not have to guess at the problem. They were completely dry after their full-power descent and subsequent counter-surveillance route. The generators wouldn't even power basic systems at this point...not without fuel. Glancing to Kiskla, Marcello managed a thin smile. "Might have to use body heat to stay warm tonight."

Just like that...his thoughts were anything but professional. Fortunately...he possessed a modicum of control. The level necessary to refocus his mind on the task at hand. Unfastening his crash webbing, Marcello came to his feet and mumbled something about making sure there was no residual damage to electrical and engineering systems. This was important because all the fuel in the galaxy wouldn't save them if they'd sustained irreparable damage.

Likelihood of that, however, was roughly zero, so he was really just trying to occupy his mind with productive thoughts.

Plus Ansion wasn't really cold. So his comment was stupid...but...typical.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Excuse me? Who was the one who had a slight understanding of what was going on? Therefore, it only made sense for her to offer an opinion as to which actions should be taken next. Kiskla sniffed a response. “I would, but last time I did that you increased the potential bounty on this aircraft.” So, she sat, but not out of sight nor out of ear — just enough to still intervene should there be an action taken she didn’t quite agree with.

He didn’t do anything irrational or unconventional this time, just expert maneuvering until he could no longer manipulate the ship to respond. To this, Kiskla frowned and rested her elbow on the seat’s arm at the same time as supporting her forehead with the curve between her thumb and pointer finger.
At this time, [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s commentary about keeping warm surfaced and she only clicked her tongue in an irritable response. To keep the mood alive, Cee-Two resurfaced into the bridge.

“Masters,” Marcello was just walking by him as he spoke, therefore he was still interested in communicating with the dual persons. Which was soon reduced to one. “All systems throughout the ship have shut down.”

“We know, Cee-Two.” Kiskla replied, running her fingers through her hair now and swivelling the seat around to face him.

“Has something happened?”

“Just out of gas.” It wasn’t really a situation where one could put just as a prefix. No, they weren’t being hunted by savages, but they might be relatively unwanted. Ansion wasn’t one of Kiskla’s well-known planets either, this was her second time visiting and last time she’d been with a hoard — they’d done most of the navigating. The city was one thing, the foothills and plains were another. “How’s your charge?”

If they were to move, Cee-Two would need to stay with the ship.

“It will suffice for quite some time, thank you for asking.”

Kiskla nodded. Good. She’d kept her eyes on the horizon path Marcello had switched to for the most part, but calculating the amount of travel time it would take would severely put a damper on the schedule. “You don’t have an idea on how far we are from the city by foot, do you? And anything on the locals?”

“Only from the archives. There was a mission here years ago, Tradition is very important to these people — these hills host various camps of citizens. Walking? Certainly longer than flying.”

“Thank you.” Kiskla replied dryly. “Thank you so much. Great insight.” Droids were highly, highly overrated.

“You’re welcome Master Grayson. Please let me know if I can be of further service.”

“No, go help Marcello or something.” She waved a dismissing hand and pulled out her personal data pad, which was running with enough battery for her not to be concerned. In this time of solitude, she crossed her legs and propped the device against her thigh and hunched over the information. The message received from the government’s authority was clear as day requesting The Republic’s aid in dissecting an unfolding plot. Perhaps the reason they were running into issues was because that plot had unfolded, and they were unfortunately wading in the thick of it. Perplexed, she recalled the visuals of the conversation shed had with Councillor Vord. He’d looked suppressed.That would certainly make sense, if there was a plot. But by whom and why? They’d have to probably get moving tonight, or very early tomorrow if they wanted to be efficient.

She closed the window and set the tablet down, rising to weave through the deck’s structure and down to the lower levels. While she walked, she was concerning herself with the strategy behind the next day’s events.

There was a sound of soft tinkering — likely something useful going on. Kiskla wasn’t the best with mechanics, which they both knew all-too well. So, she usefully propped herself against the doorframe, crossing her arms. “How much of a mess did you make?”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello knew enough about [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s often irrational comments to simply ignore them when they presented themselves. Without uttering another word to the Kiffar Jedi, Marcello departed the flight deck and set about the task of assessing their current situation in its entirety. Reaching the relatively small engineering space, the large Rogue Master contorted his body, with effort, to access various systems and panels to run diagnostics and give a visual check.

As he was just finishing up the initial visual inspections and preparing to extract himself in order to run computer-based diagnostics, Kiskla returned once more with yet another completely inaccurate and non-productive comment. However, the Rogue Master decided that now was the time to nip this in the bud. If he didn't, she would just go on making comments that she knew irritated him to no end. Standing to his full height, Marcello affixed Kiskla with an icy glare. "You done?" This mission was not his idea. He had done non of the prep work. In fact the only thing he had done was keep them from falling out of the sky from taking considerable damage to flight control systems that the shuttles were attempting to repeatedly ram into. All the while...telling them not to alter their course? He wasn't a genius, but he had roughly five times more combat experience than the young Kiffar, and he knew when they were being funneled into a position to be killed.

Death would have been a lot less irritating while he was trying to ensure they even had the capability to get off this planet one day. Since somehow they'd exhausted fuel reserves well in advance of the timeline that was fixed and beaten into every pilot from day one of training. Day one. Rather than wait for an actual constructive response from Kiskla, Marcello turned his back to her as he made his way over to the computer to initiate the diagnostics. For the most part...everything appeared fine. He suspected the damage from the ramming was entirely external...which could be a problem when trying to exit the atmosphere.

One problem at a time.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"No, not even close." Kiskla muttered, dropping her hands to her hips at the audacity of her companion. When she was seventeen, she'd seen this commanding figure as dreamy; now they were on a more personal level it was a little more irritating. Still somewhat of a turn-on in a roundabout way (She didn't like things served to her on a platter)--- but immediately grating.

"I think we both want to get out of here sooner rather than later. As much temporary cover as these foothills may provide, they haven't got the reserves we need."

You fly, you prep. Day one.

"So, into the city eventually. While there's a whole sub-plot going on. And by eventually, I mean sooner rather than later." At this, she was well aware of her presence being unwanted unless she could be more productive. How lucky for [member="Marcello Matteo"]; always seeing the different angles of the well-rumoured Jedi Grandmaster. What a treat! She was good with politics. Practicality? Well. The Naboo-born could be her better half there. But don't tell him that. He hadn't even heard the L-bomb! She inhaled slightly and ran her tongue along the roof of her mouth. Her plan was to immediately venture beyond the vessel-- immediately. Get it going without much situational awareness other than the fact of knowing they were sitting mallards the longer they stayed here. And patience wasn't her strongest virtue.
Nearly nonexistent.

"Done." She held up her hands to his earlier comment. "You going to start?" He had a better assessment of the ship than she, and she had a more perceptive understanding of the political motivations for their situation. They'd have to combine words at some time, otherwise they'd be hung out to dry sooner rather than later.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Though it wouldn't appear so because he had his back turned to [member="Kiskla Grayson"], Marcello always listened to the woman. Even now as he was scrambling to ensure they wouldn't need a new ship or additional parts, he listened to her drone on about a whole lot of very obvious things. Yet still...they could only manage to do one maybe two things at a time. He was halfway surprised she hadn't already decided to venture out on her own. One thing was for certain...her nagging wasn't making anything happen faster.

Marcello was well aware of the tactical situation. He didn't know what was happening on the planet politically but judging by their reception, neither did his companion. There was no reason to throw around blame...and he hadn't for that particular reason. An argument was just counterproductive, but Kiskla was a female so...maybe she was just genetically coded to vamp on one concept repeatedly.

"You going to start?"

The comment touched his ears just as he finished the diagnostic. The systems were fine - there just wasn't any real fuel to power the generators that would eventually run them. The vast majority of electrical systems ran off battery back-ups - the only reason they still had lighting and some computer system access, but he'd be shutting that down shortly as well.

Abruptly, Marcello turned to face Kiskla. His glacier-blue gaze stared down at her with an eerily reserved nature - a nature she and perhaps one or two others would know manifested only when he was holding back an extreme emotional response. In less than a step and a half, he angrily stalked over to the woman, seized her in his grasp, and...kissed her passionately with an intense tenderness that perfectly illustrated tthe manner in which he...handled most 'situations' these days. Strength of emotion remained, but he managed to take it all in stride, remain lucid. Kiskla, of course, in true form was probably the only person alive that possessed the ability to make that a challenge for the Naboo-native.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered his response. "Already started, love. Running off to try and find fuel is pointless if there is other damage that needs to be addressed first. Plus, the only reason I took a lengthy low-altitude approach was to make a grid-search for a location rather difficult." Marcello wasn't a genius but he'd done these things before. Even at altitude...it would take indigenous forces some amount of time to locate them. That did not, however, mean they had a lot of time. This was at least a defensible position, walking across open plains was probably the worst idea they could have right now. No cover existed out there.

Believing that he'd taken enough of a break, Marcello reluctantly released the Kiffar and stepped around her, trailing his hand across her abdoomen. Another couple steps and he emerged back into the corridor and disappeared towards the spacecraft's exit. A quick survey of the vessel's external components and he would be done. Fortunately, all they needed thus far was fuel. He was...really hoping there wasn't serious damage to any external control surfaces.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The Kiffar was significantly lucky that her companion decided to release his pent up passion in a mutually beneficial form, rather than an abusive one. Not that he would, but there were others who could explore the potential; and she was just the type of person for others to discover that ability within themselves. Button pushing was a stellar quality. Kiskla’s fingers touched her tingling lips as the rogue maneuvered from the confined area. She had meant communicating; he was obviously doing things, but there was a severe lack of any verbal update.
Instead of following him around like a lost puppy, she allowed him to tinker and examine in solace. Whatever he discovered, be it damages or just a few dents, they still needed to get something from civilization. Fuel or…more. As much as Jedi were taught how to survive on nothing, it would be stupid to just take the option of no resources when there were rations available. They were at enough of a disadvantage as it was, without adding on another burden just for sport.
So, she applied herself to something she did know a thing or two about: eating. Soundlessly, the moved to the upper level where the living accommodations and survivalist items were located. While [member="Marcello Matteo"] braved the elements of the exterior, the lithe Jedi inside moved about filling mediocre sized packs for the duo.
“Something I can help you with Master? I seemed to have lost Master Matteo.”
Kiskla groaned both inwardly and outwardly as she reached for a shelf that was threatening to be beyond her grasp. Thankfully, her height dictated those potentials were severely minute. The droid continued to speak “Oh, are we leaving?”
“No, Cee-Two, we are not leaving. You’re going to stay with the ship.” She’d already mentioned that. Selective hearing and application, she supposed. “But if you could chart out the most efficient way to the city centre, or any other locations nearby that could have parts and fuel for the ship, that’d be helpful.” She grasped what she had been reaching for and placed it into one of the packs, exchanging it by pulling out her data pad and handing it to the golden droid who received it and immediately went to work with his task.
Within a handful of minutes, Kiskla had completed her self-assigned duty and Cee-Two had completed his. The data pad once more returned to her, and she reviewed the various charted paths.
“I’ve also noticed that there are some predators out there, Master. It might be dangerous to go at night. Perhaps you should wait until the morning.”
Kiskla shouldered one of the packs while still holding the screen, shaking her head. Staying put didn’t seem like a luxury they could afford.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

The instant Marcello palmed open the cargo bay doors, he was met by an angry gust of wind that ripped through the cargo bay and nearly slammed the Rogue Master into the bulkhead. Grasping the edge of the bay opening, Marcello grunted briefly before practically flinging himself into the elements. Maintaining hold of the side of the vessel for support, he stalked alongside the fuselage, observing with a critical eye for any obvious damage. If there was, it was likely only going to effect the mechanical operation of the spacecraft as all the other systems had checked out more or less fine.

After roughly ten to fifteen minutes of just-barely-more-than-superficial evaluation of the vessel's exterior, Marcello returned to the cargo bay and brushed wild strands of blonde hair from in front of his eyes. In another sixty seconds or so, he'd managed to locate [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. After adjusting his shirt slightly, Marcello exhaled and ran a hand through his hair one more time. "Well. Good news, everything seems alright. Bad news, the winds are so high right now it was tough to even walk, and we're parked in a depression. The second we crest a ridgeline, the wind is going to intensify considerably."

Pausing, Marcello waved a dismissive hand. "It's going to make quick foot travel difficult, but it isn't much a problem other than that." Assuming that was the only problem they encountered...

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

“Cee-Two mentioned there are some predators that patrol in the nighttime.” Kiskla added to the report, extending her arm with [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s pack. She smiled lightly with a small shrug, retracting her arm once it was liberated to gesture “Maybe if we’re lucky they’re light hunters, who don’t like to be blown around.” Very doubtful.

“If there’s no damage to the exterior, then our main concern is fuel.” Marcello’s fault? Hers? Both. At this, she produced the topographic projection of Ansions surface, which zoomed in upon sections of activation to the trail C2 had charted. The golden droid stood idly by while his work was presented. “There are few points for merchants, and not any that have anything inclined for starship maintenance.” With the data pad out of her grip, and in her interest’s, she took note of his warning for wind outside and reached to twist her blonde strands into a braid. The elastic snapped over her wrist as she observed the charts “And the foothills end the closer we get to the city, so full exposure to the elements is unavoidable.” Visual exposure, however, was avoidable via a technique Kiskla had employed more than once during combat situations with a variety of oppressors.

“Don’t worry,” Kiskla cooed, taking a step inward to the man she’d wanted to throttle just a bit earlier. It was likely mutual. Her hand looped around his wrist and she simpered playfully up at him, despite what was going against them for now “I’ll hold on to you so you don’t blow away.” Ha-ha-ha. Despite Kiskla’s rather impressively muscular physique, she was certainly diminutive in comparison to her companion.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello rolled his eyes slightly at [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s recounting of the droid's report. Imagine that. Predators out looking for something to eat at night. Unlike Kiskla, Marcello didn't have a natural distrust of droids, but he did not prefer their penchant for flaunting their apparent chief subroutine of redundancy. It had taken some doing to get R9 out of the habit.

Accepting the pack from Kiskla, Marcello managed a thin smile. Yeah. Maybe things would just work out perfectly for them. For...once. His glacier-blue eyes shifted from Kiskla's soft features to the topographic projection once activated. With a practiced mind towards land navigation and tracking, Marcello evaluated their options. Given the relatively sparse vegetation, the shallow rolling of the land was their only real cover from...anything. However, once they were spotted from the air, all bets would be off. Sure. There were methods to avoid this, but they would have to take care not to leave a number of trails. Here's to hoping no one was smart enough to try and track them with thermal imaging or use any type of spectral analysis.

The sudden movement of Kiskla's body closer to his own briefly pulled Marcello from his thoughts as his gaze flicked in her direction. Marcello merely smiled in response before despositing a soft kiss to her forehead. "We should get going." Slowly, Marcello shifted his gaze to the droid. "Cee-Two, shut everything down once we've gone to conserve power. Should help reduce the heat signature as well. If someone arrives to try and force their way onboard, activate all defensive protocols. Should be enough emergency power to hold out for...minutes. Hopefully enough to discourage anyone."

Shouldering his pack, Marcello turned slightly and looped an arm around Kiskla's waist. Smiling down at her, he motioned towards the exit. "Shall we?"

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

“Very well Master, I shall do that.” Cee-Two would have nodded or bowed at this point if his anatomy allowed it, alas, he merely ignited his light-bulb eyes in understanding before turning away. And as cute as it may seem to walk hip-to-hip, it wasn’t very practical. Any sort of three-legged attempt to be adorable usually ended up in shambles. So as soon as [member="Marcello Matteo"] gestured for onward, she obliged by taking the step beyond his grasp and through the halls to the side-exit.

“Son of a murglak!” Was the exclamation that vocalized as soon as the exit door opened. Blonde hair immediately slapped against her shoulders, not content with its bindings. She plunged forward. Involuntarily stooping slightly, to lower her centre of gravity, Kiskla spoke above the amped up bluster: “Good galaxies, you weren’t joking.” At least there was no sand attached with these winds — sandstorms were the worst. Although not frequent on Kiffu, she was not a stranger to their grainy terror. Immediately, her gaze flicked skywards toward the darkening blue hat the planet wore. There were no man-made pestilences airborne above them, which was a relief for the time being. It still bewildered her, the juxtaposition between the outreach and the reception. There was most assuredly something going on behind closed doors, a manipulation that could only be accredited to the vile.

*

It couldn't have been more than an hour, but the sting of the wind against her cheeks was already growing wearisome. At some points, there seemed the potential for the winds to die down, but no calm lasted over four minutes. Surprisingly, there hadn't been any overhead scouts to contend with-- nor any undesirable predators. And to boot, neither had been speaking much against the winds; which meant no snide comments from either party. Things were going alright so far!

Twilight was on the horizon, though the planet was still well lit. Enough for Kiskla to see a hoard of moving blobs up ahead, and with a certain amount of squinting these blobs took a furry shape to reveal the silhouettes as Lorquals. Harmless, but perhaps an alternative method of travel if they got desperate.. and adventurous.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Yeah. Marcello wasn't going to walk hip-to-hip with [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. The affectionate proximity was only out of a desire to be close to her pretty much...constantly. Practicality, of course almost always necessitiated a different set of circumstances.

As they ventured out into the elements, Marcello could not help but smirk at Kiskla's reaction. The smirk dissipated quickly, however, as he focused on fighting against the elements himself. As they progressed along their intended path, Marcello made the occassional effort to ensure they were not drifting too far off course. With very few discernable terrain features to assist in their navigation, it was pretty vital they not allow the elements to push them too far off course. A half a step in the wrong direction could mean a big problem the farther they wandered.

The large Jedi Master's eyes found the same figures on the horizon. However, his mind did not immediately go to a method of transport. Beast control was certainly not one of his many acquired skills - though it was an appealing one in that particular instant. Withdrawing his datapad, Marcello briefly checked their position on one of the overlays he'd downloaded during their descent. What he didn't relish was an exposed position when the sky turned black. Creatures designed for this environment would, no doubt, prove a difficult foe of sorts.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Focus pulled from the mammals to the small light emanating from Marcello's person. Not wanting to sound like a child, she stayed her tongue from asking how long but took consolation in the lack of negative response that they hadn't blown off course.

The blanket overhead was dipping further into darkness-- and their objective was still a healthy number of hours away. Thankfully both masters were well-acquainted with nights of little to no sleep, which wouldn't require them to risk time or safety finding somewhere to rest for the night. So they continued walking.
The wind was still slamming against them, and Kiskla was slightly marvelled by the fact [member="Marcello Matteo"] hadn't done anything to save his vision yet.

"Your hair is going to be longer than mine soon," the blonde remarked affectionately as she tucked a rogue strand of her own behind her ear. Good thing they weren't stopping --- she may cut it in his sleep! Just kidding.

The proximity between the couple and the need had closed considerably, when the herd reacted. A few heads lifted, startled. For a moment, the Jedi was confused by this considering they'd been in the animal's line of sight for some time, and they'd made no sudden noises nor motions.

But it wasn't the Jedi that concerned the lorquals-- it was something far more aggressive thundering their way. Ansion's primary predators: shanhs.
The six-legged aggressors were focused on the massive lorquals, who were slow-moving but panicked; which offered Marcello and Kiskla a momentary advantage. But without cover anywhere, they weren't in the best of positions.

Instinctively, Kiskla reached for Marcello's hand--wrist-- whatever she could grip first as she manipulated the current that ebbed around them. The ethereal curtain would conceal their visuals and maintain that advantage until a more permanent decision could be reached. Likely, as hunters, those creatures didn't rely only on sight. She was trying for the 'Jedi respect all life' route; and not have to battle with partial sentients. But these creatures had taken many a life before.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello stowed the device as Kiskla's voice cut through the wind and reached his ears. The feat wasn't exactly impressive given their reduced proximity. Glancing at her out the corner of his eye, he managed a thin smile and a shrug of his large shoulders. "It's a distinction by now. My parents always forced me to keep it cut short, as did the military." Look at that...mysteries yet remained between the pair. If Kiskla ever so much as attempted to take cutting his hair into her own hands, she would not find his reaction even remotely favorable.

Marcello's own attention was drawn by the sudden movement of the lethargic lorquals, but it was quickly diverted to a slight prickle on the back of his neck. There was something approaching, quickly. [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s quick reaction was effective, but Marcello very much doubted concealing their presence visually or even in the Force would do them much good. Eventually, the herd would be at full alert and begin stampeding in all directions to avoid the impending attack. Standing anywhere near them when that happened wasn't going to be advantageous for the two Jedi.

Exhaling heavily, Marcello briefly cast his glacier-blue gaze to the horizon and their destination. Shaking himself momentarily free of Kiskla's grasp, and immediately reappearing as a result, the Rogue Master closed his eyes as he stretched his arms straight out in front of him before slowly raising them to the sky. Utilizing a skill that he had learned years ago and practiced often in his recent self-exile, the Rogue Master manipulated the Force in large swaths, effecting the very molecules circulating in the air. It wasn't more than a few seconds before any recognizable effect took shape, but it was a very definitive effect. Abruptly, the winds began to shift, cascading over the grassy plains in the direction Marcello and his partner needed to travel.

Realizing they had precious little time, Marcello opened his eyes and slipped a strong arm around Kiskla's waist. Standing on her right, he gave a brief instruction. "Outstretch your left arm, hold on to me with your right. Create as much surface area as possible for the wind to take hold of." No sooner had the words left his mouth than he leapt high into the air, taking the blonde Grandmaster with him. A slightly-more-than-moderate manipulation of the Force was necessary to levitate them well above the ground where the winds were even stronger and they no longer had the advantage of ground effect to keep them rooted. Marcello could feel the natural elements immediately begin carrying them away from danger.

The return to the ground would have to be managed with a certain level of...finesse. Getting wrapped up in a confrontation with predators while their prey attempted to scramble all over them, however, wasn't the best. If nothing else, the shanhs that managed to snag prey would be too occupied to travel very far. Plus, Marcello knew that no predator chased its prey for very long. Even the best predators grew tired. Force users too, so Marcello kept his manipulations...light, on and off enough to keep them in the grasp of the wind. His physical strength, though considerable, would not allow him to hold on to Kiskla forever, but he couldn't have been more invested in anything in his life.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The instant he pulled away and reinstated visibility, she broke her concentration — which broke the veil for both of them. The savage predators were preoccupied, their beady eyes focused on the massive and slow-moving mammals.

The circle of life was not to be interfered with — that was the secondary objective. Not becoming part of that circle was the primary. Marcello seemed to understand that (as most would!) and was reacting to the stimuli immediately. Without much objection, Kiskla was being pulled to a more intimate pose — which was also conducive for blocking all the wind!

His instructions were clear, but they were strange. Especially since Kiskla herself had never explored that much projective manipulation. She very nearly flubbed out a brief summary of his demands with a quizzical cadence, but no time. No time! Almost begrudgingly, her left arm did as it was told and extended over the arching current created by [member="Marcello Matteo"].

It was certainly an alternative solution.

Instinctively, with that much air against her, she wanted to curl in. But that would be majorly counterproductive — so her elbow remained locked, though she angled her face more toward the trenches of their curves.

There was a fair bit of distance to travel, and there was a fair amount of strain from The Force as a reactive result. Not surprising. But what that did mean, was the Naboo giant would likely reach critical mass soon, and no longer be able to support both of them. Tragically, Kiskla was not practiced in the execution Marcello was implementing, and as much as she could read into The Force and the currents that rolled with it, a slight contradiction in force against Marcello’s manipulations could create a painful landing. Which then made her think about the impending impact — and whether or not his prosthetic would cause significant pain.
It’s like she thought it was fibreglass or something.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s concerns were...valid. While he wasn't so out of practice as to be overly strained by the effort, it had already been a long day and both Jedi were no doubt physically exhausted from their efforts. Neither of them were about to admit to this fact, of course. Mentally, Marcello had spent most of the day calculating contingencies wtihin contingencies for any action they had already been forced to take on the planet...or might yet be forced to take. Perhaps it was part of the reason he was spurred to avoid any real interaction with anyone or anything...animals included. It was like his better half was rubbing off on him. Ew.

As they neared a...reasonable distance and Marcello felt his control start to slip just a hair, the Rogue Master exhaled softly against the roaring sound of the wind around them. "Hold on!" That was a literal suggestion as the large Naboo native curled in towards Kiskla and enveloped her in his grasp. For a few brief moments, nothing really happened and then...

Their collective masses began plummeting towards the ground. Marcello allowed the action to continue for a few seconds before he deftly manipulated the Force to counter the effects of their collective body weights succombing to the planet's gravitational pull. The end result was both of their bodies levitating gently less than a foot above the ground before Marcello released his hold of the Force completely and landed on the ground, his reinforced prosthetic leg absorbing the majority of the shock. Why from merely a foot above the ground, you ask?

Because he was still cradling the lithe form of his emotional interest in his arm with as much subtle strength as he'd just been manipulating the forces of the galaxy.