Private I Know

[Loske Treicolt]

Bormea Sector // Edge of the Brentaal Quarantine Zone // The Renegade
Ryv // Maynard Treicolt
Finale
​

On the eve of the Chaos Rising campaign, for the first time in a looong time, Brentaal IV was going to be visited by life. Hundreds of Alliance troops balanced on the threshold, waiting for the ultimatum’s dawn.

There was no further preparation to be done. No other artifacts to collect, no more simulations or challenges to test the mettle of the soldiers. Everything that had been planned, prepared, primed, researched, and cultivated lead up to tomorrow.

Just hours from now, the finale of their netherworld plight would come to a conclusion, one way or another. It had started with The Grayson Imperium leading the charge, now evolved and matured into The Galactic Alliance.

It was only fitting that the three would preserve time for one another on the precipice of the epilogue. Brentaal had been an integral moment in each of their growth, and this was the closest they could likely get to a full circle in their bloody, battle-laden and tormented lives.

Brentaal had been the genesis of metamorphosis beyond the government, it influenced the three figures gathered aboard the freighter. A climacteric for one, two, three, respectively.

Restless and perhaps even a smidge eager, the blonde stole a glance to the other two in the space. Admiration plainly evidenced on her countenance.

In a masterless world, their tutelage came from trial.

When she’d first met Ryv, he’d physically concealed himself behind Cedric. All too ready to take the momentary pause and shirk pluckiness. There was nothing to hide behind after Brentaal. The moment Cedric Grayson bit the dust in the wake of a catastrophe, there’d been no hesitation from the young Kiffar. Boldly taking the mantle, he filled and overflowed the gap left by the fallen Master. In the wake of chaos, he’d risen above and accepted the burden of both Knighthood, and Sword of the Jedi in a fell swoop. Now, he was the proprietor of The New Jedi Order –– an effort to reinstate and repair the reputation of borderless Jedi, tightly knitted to the galactic influence that was resiliently paving the way for a galaxy worth living in.

The first time Maynard had been on Brentaal was boldly leading Saber Squadron in to provide relief for those just trying to make it out alive. He’d taken a devastating blow, crashing to the ground and damaging his confidence almost beyond repair. He’d forlornly doubted his ability to don the title of Jedi Knight. The wreckage hadn’t totalled his tenacious spirit, and he dragged himself right back up. Reliably making himself available to those that needed him, providing the help he thought he couldn’t to those that needed it. A tireless trek to Knighthood, and now Commander in the most impressive galactic government. It had also been a definitive point in the timeline when their partnership had become more concrete for deployment after deployment, and that mutual support had begun to blossom.

And she, the girl who’d been so eager to please, had been replaced with something more tender, humane, and protectively selfish. A whole individual rather than a prototype. Brentaal had been the first time she’d felt the abyssal pit of loss. A clone bred for duty, objectives and guidelines, she’d been wrenched from any orderly training and forced to fend for herself. It was the gateway to her empathetic evolution. She’d been unable to give to her friends what they’d needed because they’d had years of experience (in the Force and life) on her. Since that fateful day, she’d been exposed to more reality than she could have otherwise expected –– and as painful as it had been, she wouldn’t change an instant of it.
Loske’s comprehension that day had rocketed her into a position to be an ear to all those that were undergoing strenuous internal conflict, empowering her to offer more than levity. She could suggest solace, mutual understanding. Loske was more than a manufactured intention now –– nothing to atone for –– she was a person as comprehensively as anyone could marvel.

When the three of them had converged for the first time on Peace, they’d discovered more than a collection of dusty, dated starfighters. They’d found each other and the beginning of an unbreakable, unique harmony formed over time and tribulation.

Ruminating on the growth they’d experienced, she chewed on the end of a fry. Not a standardized or recommended meal for soldiers before a battle, but they weren’t on an Alliance vessel, per say. She’d offered to make something instead, but they’d emphatically and knowingly rejected the offer. Nobody wanted rubbery nuna slab or whatever vegetarian option, as a potential last meal and honestly, she had to agree. There'd be other times to improve her culinary aptitude. She'd probably ask Allyson or something –– that Corellian had some nifty skills with a burner.

Breaking the silence, she aired her thoughts and pushed aside a Huttaburger wrapper –– a last stop on Coruscant –– to fold her hands on the table. “This feels weirdly surreal.” Those hands dropped back to her lap and she leaned back into the seat: “For everything we’ve been through, this feels like some sort of remarkable apex”

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Brentaal IV. It had a better claim than most anything else to be 'where it all began'. Sure, the trio might've initially first united at Peace but the Jedi station lost its place as a home for any of them to lay claim to too many bright memories. It'd gone and served its purpose as an initial staging point for which this generation of Jedi could raise themselves up to tangle with the greater Galactic threats. At least, there certainly many paragons of wisdom among the creed able to do the job in its stead.

Here though, they'd built a bond that was unbreakable. Even if their venues throughout the original battle were scattered from one another, they'd each three realized how much they needed one another in these dire, nigh fatal moments. Maynard himself at least, wouldn't dare leave either of them behind again. Ryv was his best friend, his brother. Even if trials and tribulations and a sometimes fundamentally different believe in outlook put them at odds, he wouldn't ever do wrong by him and he could only assume Ryv felt the very same. They were both confident in the intent of the other and saw more toil on the field side by side separated from many of their closer confidants during the campaign to take Muunilinst alongside the New Imperials.

If anyone claimed the title of a closer confidant to the Concordian than Ryv, it was certainly Loske. She was...well she was everything to him. All the same, Brentaal was when he realized that about her. Realized that she mattered exponentially more to him than any other comrade he'd lurched into the fray with. As much as he feared death that day, he feared never seeing her again. A though which accompanied every brush with mortality since. As far too often as they occurred.

Another calm before the storm. It was an astrological rarity how often it was they were able to convene on light-hearted terms prior to the madness of battle. After downing a double Gat-patty Huttaburger, Maynard leaned back into his seat next to Loske, raising his arms up until his fingers laced with one another behind his head. He was finally well at ease after seemingly getting his footing again after his encounter on Foerost, even if still things still felt so brutally uncertain.

“This feels weirdly surreal.”
“For everything we’ve been through, this feels like some sort of remarkable apex”

"Yeah...granted, still a whole Sith Empire and a marauding extra-galactic alien host to tangle with even when this is all through. But you're right...it's weird, to be going back." Maynard admits, his gaze shifting to the Kiffar across from him and Loske.

"I don't know, how've things been with you Ryv? Haven't been able to talk too much since we got back from the front. Granted, it didn't really slow down." Maynard admitted restlessly. Though such was the nature of the Jedi.

Loske Treicolt | Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Surreal, yeah," Ryv agreed, his eyes on a distant corner of the Renegade's lounge. He fought his mind's urge to return, to relieve the events of Brentaal IV, thousands of times since that fateful day. It wasn't that way at first. During his daily meditations back on Peace, the Jedi, a Padawan at the time, tried to return to the broken world. He wanted to see where things went wrong, to try and understand what he could've done better. Cedric went down, comatose before the battle truly kicked off. Maynard's ship crashed, destroying his droid in the process, behind enemy lines. Hell, even Ryv went down, beaten over and over again by the mysterious entity he couldn't remember. Every time the Kiffar's mind wandered back to the being who dropped from the sky, something cold gripped his heart and shoved him away. That chill never left, a constant reminder of some inner darkness he couldn't shake, regardless of how hard he tried.

"Peak? Yeah, that makes sense considering everything that happened," Ryv nodded along, further agreeing with Loske. He looked back to her and Maynard, his hand reaching for the black and white Shute-Shake sitting in front of him. He lifted it to his lips, fitting the straw between them. He enjoyed the delicious treat before setting it down once more. As Maynard's voice cut in, Ryv's head bobbed up and down in agreement. "Lots of Sith to kill, yeah," he muttered, his verbiage odd given the Jedi Knight's typical behavior. "It'll take some time, but we're doing what's gotta be done. The Sith are on the ropes already. Their Dark Lord MIA, their leadership ancient and dying, their soldiers defecting. Each battle fought is a step closer to destroying the darkness plaguing the galaxy, which is a good thing," Ryv leaned forward, resting his chin on his forearm as he folded each arm on the edge of the table.

At Maynard's question, Ryv looked over to the older Jedi Knight. How have things been? A dozen different answers jumped to mind, most of them, no, all of them negative.

"I want to tell you everything's been fine, you know? Just brush it all off and shit, but I think that isn't the play," Ryv slowly sat back up, now resting his cheek against the palm of his hand. "I'm not sure what's got me down, maybe stress? I feel like in a lot of areas, I'm fucking up. NJO's doing great. That's good and stuff, but I'm not sure if it matters to me anymore? Aside from you guys, everything is just gone. My old man, Cedric, hell, haven't seen Allyson in months. Zaavik ended up in a coma, Lanik is fucking dead for fuck's sake. I just, I don't know," Ryv stood up from the table, already beginning to pace through the open lounge. "None of this is on me, which I know, but it's still heavy. I'm trying to set an example for people, be a good Jedi, make the difference no one else can make. I just think I'm losing who I am. I'm becoming what everyone expects of me, and I miss sitting around, sucking down a milkshake or soda, shooting the shit, sleeping in late, and playing games until two o'clock in the morning," he hopped onto another one of the benches lining a table, balancing along the thin surface.

"End of the day, this stuff doesn't matter. What matters is this mission. That's all that matters."

Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt ​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She shouldn’t have been so naive to think they could banter over Brentaal with light hearts of yore.

The blonde offered a knowing shake of her head at the list of threats her friends listed that still existed. Even in just a few string of sentences that lost of enemies added more obstacles in weights of time to the distance of that homestead she and Maynard shared dreams of within these walls. The list of compromised names added more responsibility to those alive.

Did those names know they were martyrs? Or if they weren't yet, they would be?

“It- it’s not...it’s not for us. We aren’t fighting for our own interests. We’re fighting for Ryv, Allyson...all of em. Fighting so people can grow old in peace, fighting for...people left behind. In Sith space, like-...like home."

“It’s just- it’s what we are. And if we all stood down and left...we wouldn’t be doing any good at all in the end. It’d be up to people who can’t handle it. It’d catch up to us.”

"Yeah...then- then yeah, that's what we'll do. I don't want Ryv, Allyson, Bernard, any of them to carry this fight alone I just- there's too much at stake for us to just walk away.

Sheepish after her own reflection, she avoided looking at Maynard for a second, lest he hit her with the told you so. Which was verily too much of a braggarts way to be in character. In lieu of eye contact, she eased against his side.

Fire was used to mould. Beautiful ornate decor of rich glass and wonderful silhouettes. Cold, harsh durasteel and the handles of weapons. True, in a turn of events a vase could be smashed and used as a weapon, and a sword could hang idle as decoration over a mantle.That too was the choice of external influence. Before that, during their creation, materials reacted to the heat differently, those that worked to create influenced the outcome of those materials. They knew what they were working with. Part of Loske wondered how much influence Cedric still had over Ryv. There were certainly similarities to be drawn; the artist to their work. How much of that signature stretched through her friend now and influenced his perspective.

She drew in a slow inhale and ran her fingers through her hair, keeping her eyes low at the weight of the sentiment delivered at the table.

"I'm worried about Allyson too..that's a long time to pretend to be someone else." None of it was incorrect. Of it all, Allyson was concerning. She was a shadow, she was doing her job, but for so long and so entrenched in a darkness she’d already been tortured by was… understatedly worrisome. For her own well being and, honestly, for Ryv’s. When someone becomes that close to another, they help orient focus and introduce balance. With her gone, despite his friends nearby, there was little more to lend himself to other than duty. “Yeah, probably because that's all a lot.” Loske agreed, tracking Ryv 's movements. It was the same sort of narrative that had been delivered on Tython. This time, though, his self awareness had compartmentalized responsibility with reality. It’d do little good to refute anything he was saying.

“It matters.” Loske disagreed. “If we lose who we are entirely, then we’re just repeating history again and again. Same cookie cutter experience. No new take on things. I’d say we’re making changes that others couldn’t because of who we are. Who you are.

I never understood the attraction of video games…” she murmured, the end of her sentiment trailing off into a furrowed brow.

When nobody expected anything of them, they had nothing to rise to. They could be themselves. Ryv could sleep in, Maynard could bury himself in The Renegade’s maintenance. Once they rose to one occasion, there were other ones placed ahead of them.

There was only the mission. This mission. The next mission. There’d always be another task, another objective. Requirements and retribution to be delivered were hand over fist these days. Triocolt was so far on the horizon she almost couldn’t see it.

"You think other people feel this way? Or is it just...us."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

Might've been exactly what Maynard was worried about, when Ryv spoke up. He'd been grounding himself down to the bone, shouldering any shred of responsibility he could manage. The weight of obligation was certainly getting to him, Maynard could see that well enough. As much Loske and himself threw their bodies into the throes of peril time and time again, they'd clearly understood over time that a reprieve alone, a brief as they often proved to be was necessary if they were going to keep at their pace in service of the Alliance and the Jedi. If they were ever going to put an end to the Sith Empire or the Bryn'adul and see the fruits of their labor come to fruition in a (hopefully) better off Galaxy, they'd have to make it to the end.

What Ryv was doing...had a far worse ending. If anything, the Mandalorian was just glad he seemed to be slowly realizing that.

"The mission isn't everything. It just...isn't, its a hell of a lot of it, yeah. I'll give you that. It's probably the one thing that matters the most to what we do but Loske is right. You can't just keep throwing yourself into the fray like this. You're a person, man. It's okay to just...steep back, even if it's just for a little bit. You're right...none of its fine. None of its fine for anyone. That's why I can't let you just...keep doing this, keep throwing yourself at death's door and let it all weight down on you. Just like none of it is your fault, you aren't all it takes to save the Galaxy, Ryv. We're all here for you, brother. Allyson...I'm sure what's going on with her but man, you need the rest. After we get done with this, with Brentaal. You've earned it, Ryv." Maynard iterated flatly for his fellow Jedi.

"You have nothing to prove to anyone man. You're the Sword Of The Jedi, sure, not everything is gonna go our way. It's been hard, really fuckin' hard for you. I'd like to think I'm tough but...fuck man, you've been through it all. You need some rest. Will shit still be going wrong around us while you're gone? Yeah...but if you keep trying to hold it all back alone well...you won't be around much longer to put a stop to anything, just how it is man. I don't like seeing you like this. Whatever you gotta do...just take it easy. I love you, like a brother and I just won't let you keep going down this path. Just- just do us both a favor if you feel like you're not doing good by yourself and just step away even if only for a little bit. You gotta heal, recharge." Maynard said, letting his emotions seep into the inflection of his voice as he spoke.

"If I want anything for you, man. I want you to be around to see all the hard work you've done pay off, because it will. I promise you, there's no way it won't." The Jedi knight pleads to Ryv, letting off a deep breath as he scratches at his forehead. He clearly cared well enough to voice how he felt. Ryv was his brother. As much as Loske and himself picked each other back up everytime they'd slip to the darker depths of their mind, Ryv needed a hand too it seemed and Treicolt would be damned if he wouldn't be there to yank him back out.

Loske Treicolt | Ryv

 

[Ryv]

"Yeah, I know," Ryv muttered, turning on his heels to face them. He took a seat on the other table, his forearms resting across his knees, body leaning towards his two companions. "I think there are other people like us out there, bunch of stoopa Jeedai who run towards all that bad shit, rather than away from it," he chuckled, offering both of his companions a smile. "I'm sure some folks walk the fine line between falling apart and keeping everything together, while others are just juggling the fate of the galaxy while racing a million miles a minute to the next big issue. Hell, look at us. You guys either have it figured out, or you do a damn good job at making it seem that way," his hand slid into his jacket pocket, procuring his holodevice from within. He raised it, his thumb brushing along the smooth surface. Beams of flickering blue light surged to life, taking the shape of a certain Corellian.

"Me? I definitely lean towards the irrational part of the equation, but," Ryv paused, the small device in his hand deactivating as he looked away. "You're right, Maynard. You both have always been right, I just don't know how to step away, you know? Feels wrong, knowing people are out there fighting, while I'm just hanging out on Coruscant, enjoying a snack or something," he twisted his wrist, spinning the mini-holo projector within the center of his palm as he spoke. "I wanted to get away to Corellia for a bit, but she ended up taking off shortly after we got there, so I'm probably gonna pocket that vacation for another time. Maybe take a trip somewhere significant to the Jedi's history? Snag a couple inexperienced Jedi, little one's we can't dedicate to the front and take em to one of the worlds recovering from battle. Kintan is still wrecked, Muunilist, and Mygeeto were practically burned to the ground. A little bit of humanitarian work? Remind us all why we fight."

He couldn't deny a need for a break, hell, he'd needed one for a while. With so many grandiose battles behind him and even more on the horizon, Ryv considered the likelihood of survival. Loske and Maynard had one another, which meant they'd hopefully push through and make it to the other side. Neither of them was likely to abandon the Kiffar if he needed them, regardless of the stakes. It just felt odd to consider how much changed in such a short time. Someone promised to stand by him through it all, to watch his back, and make sure he wouldn't fall apart during this war on evil. Yet, she wasn't there anymore. He could still feel her arms wrapped around him, her chin resting almost lazily on his shoulder. When the Jedi closed his eyes and closed his mind off to the world, he could even recall her succulent aroma drifting about him. Love happened so fast, hitting him harder than any spice-induced high ever could. It felt blissfully explosive, dominating every second of his waking mind for weeks on end. There was so much to explore within her, upon her, and beside her. Now? Now there was nothing.

"Yeah, I'll uh," Ryv rested his chin in his palm, arm propped up against his thigh. "I'll figure something out. But- what, uh, what do you guys have planned? Any vacations on the horizon for you? I hear Chandrila looks beautiful this time of year."

Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt ​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

That's all​

She chewed the inside of her cheek while Maynard Treicolt made his plea to The Order’s founder, his words an unnecessary reminder of what endeared her to him. Concern and despair bled through to each syllable, drenching the monologue in timely somberness. There was so much to echo and emphasize, but Ryv seemed to acknowledge the truth in what was said.

Ryv’s face was like the page of a book she couldn’t read. She thought she could, until she realized she’d been reading the same paragraph several times over without any comprehension. The words were legible, but between the lines there was so much she was missing. The risk and reward of their work were so tightly coupled that it was easy to fall into a cyclical rhythm. Industriousness was good. And it could be addictive to see the fruits of labour, but addicts had a tendency to sacrifice themselves for their vice. A path she didn’t want for her brother.

A pang of guilt bubbled in her chest when Ryv suggested she and Maynard had it figured out. Maybe they did have it figured out and struck a balance. A handful of months ago she’d heathenistcally betrayed that companionship and for a few seconds considered if freedom would be possible if their friends weren’t part of the fight any longer (by whatever circumstance) that she could use that as an escape route and drag Maynard with her. Not be beholden to duty and part of the fight to protect her friends. They could run away to the hills and start a life enriched in purity and.. after a few more seconds of rational thought and a meek question, Maynard had reoriented that doubt. Her priorities were a little more calibrated again now. The foundation of her dedication strengthened to rock instead of sand. Duty for the sake of duty was gone and there was purpose there, an end goal to hit. She knew that she'd been living in a blissful ignorance until she’d become more addicted to a person than a pledge. Honouring the preservation of her lover and their shared vision of the future homestead. So maybe they had figured it out.

“Maybe we do. It’s uh..it’s a balance. And I'm still learning.”

She wasn’t sure, it all felt rather chaotic. Like each time they re-engaged alongside other soldiers was just a countdown on her personal calendar until she stomped her feet and kicked and screamed to get out of there and no longer be part of it. In less than twenty hours, High Command would issue the green light and the trio would be facing hell again. Creatures from the nether would gnash their teeth and spit their venom. Today wasn’t the day she dug her heels into the dirt to make herself immovable against the threat.

Absently, the point of her finger poked against the base of an empty Merenzane bottle, moving it less than an inch through the crinkled Huttaburger wrappers. Sprouting out from the glass were dried starflowers from Alderaan. Even drained they maintained some of their originally rich sapphire pigment. If she wanted to run her fingers along the crisped petals, she’d be able to retrace and stitch together the memories; hands on stems, noses to the center, smiles exchanged between the pair. It had been right after Muunilinst. The flowers wouldn’t be able to retell everything they’d seen once plucked from the soil, but they’d exude the contented bliss that surrounded them. Part of the reason Loske’d kept them. They added a touch of decor to the otherwise utilitarian ship, but selfishly, if anything got too forlorn she’d be able to whisk herself to a meadow of mirth in an instant should she need. Just by brushing the curls of the preserved florals.

The flickering silhouette of Allyson refocused her back to the present, and she looked down at the slick floors of the freighter. It was mystifying how long the Corellian had been behind enemy lines. The information she had patched through had proven invaluable several times over, but she was more than interesting data points. She was supposed to be the support and anchor to Ryv. Allyson had promised to take care of him. Maybe she was, by extension, or by her own definition. The information she was feeding back to The Alliance was taking care of all of them. But not in a way that made Ryv whole. That was the true purpose of care in companionship — rising to the needs of your partner. Making sure it wasn’t a story of maybes, almosts and what ifs.

“She’ll come back.” Loske murmured, keeping her gaze locked on the translucent outline of the Corellian before it went away. She wasn’t entirely confident in that statement, some of the transmissions from Rae Cooke were...confusing. "We'll get her back. For you and for her.."

The Sword had some ideas on what to do with his downtime, and Loske jut her lower lip in protest with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, you’re right.” She feigned a chuckle at the kiffar Knight’s expense, “You don’t know how to take a break. Most of the things on that list hardly count that as recharging or a vacation...” Loske admitted, trying again to unstick them from the dark revelations and drowning in a mire of heavy words. “Relief is something Auteme could do. Or Aldric, or even.. heck. If it means you get to play a video game or whatever to decompress, I’ll even improve my bedside manner and do something like that.

Or just.. do something before another rallying of Jedi to complete an objective. If you don’t know how to do it,” she pushed from her seat and leaned forward, reaching across the table and resting her hand on his wrist with a bit of a grip to emphasize her point “We’ll force you. Lock you up on The Renegade and..I don’t know. Drag you to Chandrila to confirm or deny those travel reviews yourself.

After tomorrow, however long tomorrow is."

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

To think between himself and Loske that they had it figured out. They'd had eachother figured out...it was everything else that was the challenge, the enigma, the problem to solve. If they really all had it figured out, they wouldn't have been traveling this familiar path again. Back to Brentaal. Back to the origin point of really, all the nuances of their interconnecting relationships. Even if it took blood and tears for the three to really realize how much they'd meant to each other.

"Yeah...you need some time away is all it is. It doesn't make you any weaker, it doesn't mean you're not the Sword of the Jedi. Everyone who means a damn knows just how important you are to the Jedi, to the Alliance...to the Galaxy. No one wants to see you burnt out. Hell- what does any of this matter...if you're not happy in the end? Sure thing you'd have done a lot of good and I know what you'll say is that yourself doesn't matter and it'd be selfish to think like that but I'm just telling you...as your friend, as your brother. It's what you need." Maynard stated with his voice dipped in shades of sternness as he concluded his point.

"Just...whatever you decide to do. We're here for you, you know what. I just...you know- I know you have a legacy that you wanna live up to, an obligation that you have to fulfill but...your path will end far before any of that if you keep up the 'tunnel-vision' you have going now, just the plain reality of it all." The Concordian states in reiteration of an earlier point. Even his vacations had to tie in somehow with the Jedi Code for Ryv. But he had a much stronger legacy in the Jedi than Maynard ever did. He could only stand so much of it before he felt like jumping The Renegade to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy to avoid hearing the dogma all over again. Maynard knew what he believed, he knew what he needed to do and he was resolute in that. Even if his good intentions were along more selfish lines than Ryv, he never didn't pull through in the end.

"After this...assuming we all make it out, which I know damn well for sure we will. And while I'm sure the Alliance has plans for us after because we're Jedi, fuck our free time and all that, we...or at the very least you should consider just...rest. I know in the end, however many years from now you'll be looking back at yourself now and wonder 'what was I all worried about?' because you're working hard enough that your goals, you'll see them through. Again, I just wanna be there with you when you do." Maynard vows with conviction.

Loske Treicolt | Ryv