Little Jazz To Bestine

[Jsc]

Silver Rest
Kashyyyk

Monica parked her light Interceptor in the hanger bay at the Silver Rest Temple. She left the keys with her Astromech and departed down the lift to the ground level. Exiting out into the gardens and enjoying a parkway stroll over to the Hall. The air was sweet and the warm breeze even sweeter. Kashyyyk was a true gem this time of year and Monica loved every moment of the Silver Jedi's most modern destination. A joy of nature and of the Force.

Monica stopped at the Reception Desk and made parking arrangements. Long term. She'd be borrowing a ship, after all. Light interceptors just don't have the seats for company. Tsk tsk. ...Hm. Let's see? Pelta-class Frigate. Gate Five. Ranger Station Alpha. ...Yep! Bingo.

"And, let's reserve now, please."

~ Click ~

Thusly. With just the click of a button. Monica had reserved a flight out from Kashyyyk to Bestine. All with seating for a company of thirty. Ha. Perfect. The more, the merrier. A Jedi ferry ride for a whole class. With a departure time of tomorrow morning at 06:00. Classic.

"Well. I guess that's the adventure booked. Suppose I'll go kill the evening over at the pool hall. See who shows up."

Monica gave a quick swish of her long blue hair and wandered out the Great Hall. Making her way up to the Game Room just above the cafeteria. Eager to find a game of pool or cards to join. With nothing better to do all evening than kick back and enjoy the sites.

Nice.

[member="Vennic Graves"]

 

[Vennic]

The morning had gone by without his even realizing it, though he'd gotten rather good at that those days. Unless he was training or meditating there was really no need to pay much attention to anything else, and so he typically lost himself in thought or his research on far greater Jedi that had come long before him. Still, there was a morsel of an attention span buried deep within his head of long, messy blonde hair which allowed for him to be taught by stronger, more knowledgeable individuals than him when the time called for it. It was on leave that today, though, and he'd already burned through most of the it in the pool hall ignoring the comings and goings of his peers while he immersed himself in his studies, just like he always did when he wasn't being haled by the Council or a Master who could think of something better for him to do.

The archives had wound up being his home away from home more often than not, but days like those when they were performing information overhauls, clearing datapads and relocating the information that the Archives stored Vennic would find himself lost and most often chose to meditate, work out and do a bit of training. Overexerting himself and training with a practice saber just didn't seem to be very appealing that day, though, and so he'd found himself right there, in a place he rarely lingered listening to the occasional 'clack!' of pool balls crashing into one another while he read from something rather rare. It was what some referred to as a 'book', and from what research that he had done about them it appeared to be the exact thing that the datapads of his time had long since replaced. An obsolete form of data storage that was brimming with the written word that he near constantly craved.

He couldn't understand what was so bad about them, though, apart from not being able to delete, adjust and store the information that it held. They seemed to be simple things, and although it was certainly an outdated form of sorting and storing information, there was one overbearing factor about them that he could see as plain as day. Something that he saw to be a glaring advantage in actually writing down your thoughts and methods rather than keying them into a system for the purposes of processing and storage. Something he was honestly awestruck by as he read a book titled "The Bindings of the Mind" by an author so far removed from life that he hand't had any luck finding information about him in the Jedi Archives. Something simple, yet elegant all the same that he rather admired and could understand the value in, and that one thing was that this man's thoughts lived on in a physical form, fleshed out by pages and ink rather than a series of code that could be destroyed with a single keystroke.

For all the advantages that technology offered to the many sentient creatures that shared the galaxy with one another, there would always be a single drawback to it all, and that was it's greatest fallacy. The intangible nature of their technology, at least to Vennic, made the incredible thing that it was also the most delicate thing in existence, able to be shattered in but a moment of mishandling or poor judgement. Furthermore, someone with enough cunning and the right resources could utterly destroy someone's life's work or topple the informational foundations of factions and corporations alike. And all it might take was a grudge or a foolish mistake...

"Amazing.", he whispered as he tried to contemplate such a thought that carried with it so many angles, and although some might consider him a legendary over thinker, Vennic believed the exact opposite. He believed that there was an innate thing inside them all that most inventors and theorists tended to carry with them through life and profession alike. Something that most people wrote off and tended not to give put too much stake in when someone else could just go and do your thinking for you. It was foolish to think that just because you had it easy, what with the convenience of an ever evolving technology to rely upon, that you shouldn't spend time trying to understand anything and everything your mind could possibly comprehend. It was important, at least to him, no matter what anyone said, and it was why he would always have his eyes scanning the datapads every second of spare time that he had. Because knowledge was indeed power, and he had a craving for knowledge the likes of which the galaxy couldn't possibly imagine. At least, he hoped not, for if such a thing could possibly be grasped then he might not ever be very important at all. If people could fully understand him and the complexities of the way his mind worked, then perhaps he was a great, big, glaring disappointment. Part of a galactic average that wasn't special and was never meant to be anything at all.

Perhaps he was nothing. Or perhaps he was magnificent. All he knew for sure, though, was that his studies and his research would never reach completion, and he would die in the pursuit of knowing everything there was to know. That was why he lived and breathed while at the same time striving to keep the peace in a galaxy that needed guardians of peace. He only hoped he could measure up to the greatest minds who'd come before him and share in their vast and extensive wisdom one day. One day when he wasn't lounging in a pool hall where his concentration could be shattered by a newcomer who'd broken his train of thought and caused him to raise his head only to display a pensive expression while examining a Jedi he didn't much know at all.

"Hi...", he whispered rather softly, despite a soothing depth to his voice.



[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

"Hey boy."

She said coyly with pursed lips. A fashion show to be sure. A tall strong woman with wild blue hair. So confident in her body language as to be found aggressive. Or better yet, comedic. Slowly broaching a smile and relaxing into her hands folded over her chest. Like raw adamant. She scouted the empty room with a bird's predatory eye. Finally letting her dark sunglasses come back to rest upon her sole companion. The introspective Jedi. With a book?

With a flip of her hair she scoffed,

"Ha. The game room empty of all but a vivacious reader? Heavens. Planet Voss this is not."

She referred of course, to the most recent migration of the Silver Jedi. Moving their capital back to Kashyyyk from the far flung reaches of the Rim. This was only her second time to Silver Rest since it's construction. And, oh. How things had changed. Blimey.

"And, is that a book? On hardback? ...My my. I knew it took time to get the Jedi Archives back online but dear me. Are the Masters issuing textbooks again? Hehe."

She smiled so as to appear a mere jest.

"Ah. Forgive me handsome. A woman who dwells on the past so is such a downer. Hehe."

She gave a minor bow,

"...Monica. Charmed. Are we alone? Or are you expecting company?"

A courtesy name. One she had received many years ago in thanks, from a far flung and nearly lost peoples. And since HK wasn't around to correct her? A name that had stuck like glue.

She stood at good height for a woman of her age. Her black boots adding mere centimeters to her impressive posture. She wore her new suit, the Moncia Coat, (a black trench coat with lush fur trimmings worn over a slimming black bodyglove), a pair of technological sunglasses, and had left her bubble helm back on the fighter. Alongside her carbine, gear bag, and plastic assortments of gourmet pasta ingredients. (She was practicing cooking this year.) So she was traveling light today. A rarity.

Monica resumed her modeling pose and looked [member="Vennic Graves"] up and down, one more time. Silently debating to herself if he could be any good in bed. Her naturally unconscious greeting to any human male with two legs and a cute butt. So irreverent. Yet so married. Gosh.

 

[Vennic]

When Vennic was interrupted from his reading he didn't move a muscle for a moment, though his amber oculars had stopped shifting back and forth across the pages of his book so quickly. It was the only sign he would offer that he was no longer absorbing the information etched into the pages he'd been reading, and as his head had been hanging while he'd been reading, she couldn't possibly have seen those now motionless, golden browns of his. All he had left to do now was listen to what sounded like a rather brash and even tactless woman who'd kicked the door to his concentration down so that she could stand proudly in the shattered, wooden frame in order to take up the space it had once filled. So, broken train of thought be dammed, he slowly raised his dirty blonde head and flicked the book in his right hand closed with a light, 'thoomp' and took a sip from the cup in his left hand, gulping down a mouth full of warm java as he listened to her oddball introduction.

As she finished her little spiel, though, he didn't bother to dismiss the curious look upon his face, eyes slightly narrowed at the woman while his thin, pink lips stayed slightly ajar as he thought about what she must have wanted. He couldn't quite pinpoint a reason, though, and for the force, he couldn't understand what on earth she was doing in a getup like the one she was in. So extravagant, and seemingly so many layers to it with some rather outrageous looking boots. She was very distracting, to say the least, demanding attention being dressed like that, and for now she had commandeered his mind, whether or not it had been offered.

"Vennic...", he whispered his response as his eyes shifted up and down her body, taking in all of her that he could see, just as he typically did. He didn't think it rude to take apart someone's attire or their physical presentation, and he rather preferred the opportunity to gather information about style preferences and readily offered tells that he might be able to use to his advantage in a game of Sabacc one day, if the right time presented itself. "I'm here alone, yes. Just paying homage to the pioneers of intellect long since removed from this life.", he said, wondering why he'd even spoke at all as the words were literally leaving his mouth.

What he'd said sounded so ridiculous the way he'd said it, though he'd often found himself over complicating comments that he made in an effort to add urgency or passion to what he was saying, not realizing that he sounded like a total nerd sometimes.

"Can I help you with something?", he asked as he stole his mind away from his book for a little while to entertain the newcomer who'd barged into his life without a spec of hesitation.


[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

Gods above...

Moncia almost sighed audibly at his lack of enthusiasm. Le sigh. Even at her age Monica still relished her own ability to leave the opposite gender speechless and awkwardly attuned. Alas. This thoughtful java sipper seemed more steadfastly attracted to the long dead authors of Shakespearean glory than her stunning riposte. A one way romance. To be sure.

She rolled her eyes with boredom and shifted her outrageous posterior,

"Well. That answers my first question, I suppose."

Mr Vennic was no fortune cookie.

"...And no. I suppose not. I merely came to dowse my evening away in a roulette of pool and perhaps a few stiff drinks? Yet. I fear this candle is far from burning brightly. An empty room brereaved of laughter is no casa del sol. That's for sure."

She eyed the pool table and wondered if she still had any friends around. Doubtful given most were lightyears away on Denon Proper. Hmph. Poo.

"Well. I suppose I'll leave you be then. Good night Master Vennic. ...Oh!? Wait."

She snapped her gloved fingers,

"Ah ha! And do be on the lookout for an expedition to Bestine tomorrow! Oh yes. This here lady luck might just be captaining the ship and wa'la, all aboard are sure to be foisted with adventure. Hehe."

She smiled grandly. Glorying in her own performance and good ideas. ..Ah! But yes. But of course? Master Vennic was the pensive type, was he not. She would need sweeten the pot if he was ever going to bite.

"Anddd... Yes. Yes yes. There will be books. Books a'many. For our grand and final destination is the Arcanenu Cultural Archives of Bestine. A library second only in breadth and width, and legendarium to the Great Holocron of the Jedi Order. A library so prosperous it... Um... Well... Hmmm."

Monica paused for a moment. Yet leaned only to sigh.

"Well. It's big. And holographic. And probably has books, okay? Fine."

She frowned. She wasn't doing a very good job of making her latest work-vacation sound like a picnic through space, was she?

"Anyway. Whatever." The blue haired woman folded her arms and pursed her lips, "Hmph. Guess I'll hit the gym instead. Game room my blue arse. Pfft."

Go figure a Jedi Temple for such a nunnery. Bah.


[member="Vennic Graves"]

 

[Vennic]

"Really?", he asked, though he immediately stifled himself, hoping not to appear to excited about the prospect of finding himself immersed in knowledge while at the same time actually getting the opportunity to help people. He feared that his expression might have betrayed him, despite how quickly he may have been able to recover. "Well... I suppose I'd be interested in tagging along.", he admitted as he laid the book down on the table in front of him and finally pushed against the table's edge so that he could brace himself while he pulled himself up to a standing position. Then, when he was finally sporting his long, lean frame standing well over six feet, he stepped around the table and carefully flowed across the room so that he could stand just a few feet away from the odd, blue haired woman.

"I could use a little distraction lately, and if there are a few books I might be able to sneak out of those Archives with then I would call that a successful trip.", he told her as he raised a pair of long, muscular arms so that he could cross them across a firm chest while he towered above her. "What's to be expected on this little expecition?", he asked curiously as he glanced around the room, as if checking to make sure that they weren't being listened to by a sneaky bystander that may have gone unnoticed by him while he was reading. When he was sure that they were alone, though, he unfolded his arms again and took his time strolling over towards a bar that was currently unmanned at that moment.

When his long strides had taken him as far as they could he pressed one hand against the bar top and pushed himself up against it, leaning over it's edge so that he could reach down behind the other side so that he could fish around for a bottle of whiskey or bourbon. When he retrieved a dark, golden colored bottle, though, he made sure to check the label so that he knew it was whiskey. Then, when he was certain, he plucked a couple of glasses up and set them down against the bar top, uncertain whether or not the blue haired woman would want a glass as well. So, with a quick motion, he spun the top off, caught it out of the air with his free hand and quickly poured a perfectly equal amount in both glasses, about half full in either of them. He then placed the bottle back down on the bar top, swept up a glass and carefully sat back against the top of one of the bar stools so that he could have himself a sip of the dangerous liquid.

"Mmmm...", he sighed lightly as he took a gulp of the powerful alcohol, which was at least five times stronger than the warm, lightly spiked java he'd been sipping upon. In fact, he found himself wondering inwardly whether or not spiking some java with whiskey that expensive would taste good, or even better than what he was previously drinking.

"I know I can be a little... off-putting. I assure you it isn't by intention, however. I'm just a little different than most others, or so I've been told.", he explained as he watched the woman, raising his glass and nodding to her lightly as he reclined and had himself another sip as to allow the liquid to help loosen him up a bit.


[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

Oh damn.

It did appear that the studious Master Vennic was rather a man after all. Yummy. Oh. And, good for him too.

"Oh. Starting to have expectations of tomorrow are you?"

She smiled coyly and postured with her hips. Yeah. He might have been half her age but I'll be damned if a bottle of Corellian isn't a challenge well extended. Ha. Monica moved to the bar and slipped off her fuzzy coat with a mere gesture. Unzipping her bodyglove down to her collarbones and taking a lean posture against the bar. Mm. Far enough away from the Jedi Graves that he wouldn't feel the pressure of her eager weight. Then she summoned the glass from across the bar with a magical tug of the universe. Zip. Clasp. Nice!

Monica took a swig of the full cup and quickly became much more business-like in her tone. Ahhh. Or, maybe that was just her throat burning. Mmm.

"Well. Don't worry about your candor kid. I real woman can seriously respect a man who knows what he wants. It's vulnerable. And that let's her know that you really do feel comfortable in your own skin. And trust me. That works millions where I'm from. Just peaches."

She pushed the glass back down the bar to Vennic and tapped the wood twice. Hit me. She smiled at Graves. Because nope! She sure as heck wasn't nursing just one glass tonight.

"As for the mission? Mm. Well. It's a field trip of sorts. I've reserved us a ship up in orbit and it should be a spacious abode. Nothing first class but, I suppose that's good for the Jedi around here. This place can get pretty palatial at times. Heh. And as for the time on the road? Well. Let's call that a good chance to get some training in too. Mm."

Palatial. Ha. Funny word. Though, Gods knew Voss sure fit that bill. Ugh. Not... I mean. Not that it was terrible? But a priest's work was with the people. Not with the palace. Not with the ships, and the lobbists, and the gardeners too. Ha. What a sight that was. Of course, bah. Just listen to her talk? How many years had it been since she'd actually trained in a Temple? Pfft. Three. Five. Ugh... Stop counting Karen. Just drink. Bleh.

"Mmm. So. What do you do for work Vennic? You just Jedi all day or, save the universe and all that jazz?"

Oh. And uh. Oops. Monica suddenly realized that this bar might have the legal drinking age of a Zelosian house party right now. Crap. Ugh. How old was Vennic over here anyway? Oh dear. So much for setting the good example and being a proper hostess tomorrow. Ha! Erm. I mean...

Poo.


[member="Vennic Graves"]

 

[Vennic]

Vennic smirked lightly at her comments about him, though he didn't offer much more in the way of excitement or intrigue. He was a simple man, and very little surprised him because his mind was typically well positioned to be ahead of the moment. He was ever self reflective while spectating the space around him and treating it like a constantly developing equation that his mind was stuck in, solving it second by second so that he could always be ready and always be prepared, although such things were impractical. He couldn't always be ready and he couldn't always see what was coming, but what he could see, especially when utilizing his abilities in the force, was quite impressive, none the less.

He possessed a measure of foresight that was unrivaled by nearly anyone apart from the masters, which he took pride in despite the fact that he kept this little piece of himself well hidden in the depths of his mind. Once he realized that he was beginning to slip into a daydream again, however, contemplating the complexities of the force and the galaxy around them, he snatched his mind back and forced himself back on track so that he could avoid possibly being rude. Then again, only a few moments of silence had passed while he'd been contemplating everything, along with what she'd had to say, and so when he glanced up at the empty glass she'd suggested that he fill back up, he laughed a light, momentary laugh and reached out with his free hand to sweep up the bottle from the bar top.

"Well, I get paid well enough to actually take care of the Archives at the Jedi Temples I frequent, transporting datapads that need to be moved from one planet to the other, and since I do as much traveling I use a freighter and carry cargo for the Republic and the Silvers whenever they need it. They're not exactly on splendid terms, but they're friendly enough to allow their cargo to be transported on the same ships.", he began to explain in response to her question of work when he's not playing the role of Jedi. "It's the perfect job for me, because auto pilot handles about eighty percent of my trips and it allows me to quite a lot of reading and studying, which I prefer. Then, when I'm not planet hopping or training, I'm just being your every day goody goody Jedi.", he offered as he reached over and tipped the bottle above her glass so that he could pour her another, this one a little more full so that she could enjoy it a little longer. He then placed the bottle back down and raised his own glass so that he could take a sip of whiskey, gulping down a moderate mouth full as he turned the subject back to her.

"What about you? What's your story?", he asked, perplexed by her attire while at the same time being able to sense that there was something special about her. He felt a presence in the force that she seemed like she was possibly suppressing, which wasn't uncommon for the stronger force users that he'd met. "Mercenary of some kind? Neutral force user? Comedian?", he asked, adding a lighthearted joke for effect.


[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

"That..."

Is a long story. Monica thought to herself.

"...Is probably a story for another time." She smiled. Using only two fingers to gesture and pull the full glass over to herself. He was right though. There was a part of herself that she was suppressing. Her Force Bond with her husband. It was like a phone call really. One that you don't answer and let go to voice mail. You know you should call them back? But haven't all day.

"Mm."

She became eerily silent for that long moment. Once again remembering all the things she had forgotten to do since leaving Denon. Polishing her gun, doing laundry, and rescanning R2 neutral archives. Busy work really. But enough of it that it still seemed to stress her out just by thinking about it. Huh. Weird.

Monica turned back to Graves and nodded. Letting the long moment pass before changing her mind.

"I used to be a Force Soldier. Fought for the Republic and the Pyre during the Sith Wars against the first two dark empires. What, fifteen years ago now? But. During that fight a good deal of us Jedi Knights became disillusioned. We awakened to a terrible new truth of this galaxy. We realized that destroying all of the darksiders from this galaxy was impossible and that eternal war was all we would ever know. It was horrible. I myself have killed dozens if not hundreds of fledgling Force Users allured to the ways of the dark. Wizards, witches, sorcerers, alchemists, reavers, and more. All dark. All bold. All magical. And all of them wanting just one thing. To fight to the bloody end and earn their stripes as conquerors."

She was nervous as she spoke too. As if some part of those long battlefields was coming back to haunt her. Even now. Disturbing her joyful drinking and making her paranoid. Shifty. Always watchful. For that sniper over there. Or that Sith assassin lurking in the shadows.

She continued. A bit on edge.

"After the Alliance retook Galactic Center and crushed the second empire? Well. Truth be told. I quit the game. Retired the robe and rebuilt the lightsabers. I mean. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life killing Sith soldiers. Because, I knew. In this galaxy? Man. Their numbers are endless. The Force isn't rare anymore. It's everywhere. In everyone. And you can't serve the Light just by killing your way to heaven. Which, was all I ever did. Traveling from one Invasion into the next. Never grateful. Never fulfilled. Just boots painted red in the deaths of millions, after millions, after millions."

She took another hit of her drink and straightened back up. Letting such a terrible story roll off her shoulders once again. Like letting her whole life slip back down to the floor. Where it belonged.

Monica turned and raised a glass.

"So these days I just enjoy my retirement. Confident that one day the Jedi community of this wide new galaxy will find a greater path forward. A world without war. Or, perhaps? A more quiet peace to the soul."


[member="Vennic Graves"]

 

[Vennic]

"There will never be a time without war, though... you must know that.", he Vennic whispered his response, not seeming all too bothered by the subject really because, in part, he wasn't. He knew it had always been there and that it always would be because of one glaring factor that no one could counter with an argument. Balance. The galaxy craved balance, and as long as there was one force user willing to kill another in order to gain an upper hand on those who were born untouched by the force, there would always be a constantly shifting, evolving balance that wavered back and forth like a gymnast on her balance beam. It was the way of the galaxy, and because they and the many other races of creatures in the galaxy who inhabited it along side them weren't above war or murder, there would always be struggle and there would always be strife.

He sipped from his glass of whiskey as he thought about what else to say in order to add to his point, but for a while he remained silent. He knew she wouldn't like to hear what he had to say about it, but when he was right he was right, and deep down they both knew it was true. "Whether it's you or the apprentice who came after you, there'll always be a Jedi willing to kill a Sith if they're pressed too far. Likewise, there will always be a Sith who envies a Jedi's control while they strive to find true power somewhere in the galaxy, and so one will always need the other.", he said as he glanced over to the young woman a few feet away from him.

"There might be millions upon millions of force users in this galaxy, and because you put yourself around them at a young age it might seem like everyone, including their parents, friends, extended family and even their dammed pets are probably force kissed, but that logic simply doesn't add up. Those numbers have been crunched and those odds have been sought after, time and time again. Tests have been performed on every child born on Coruscant for five and ten year spans. I've even read up on some of the research myself. It's extensive, and almost frightening what they had to do to come by those numbers, and yes, there were thousands... hundreds of thousands born who were sensitive to the force, but... they were among millions both bland and average. They were but a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme, just like you and I are... anomalies.", he told her as he watched her with those oddly calm, golden eyes he had.

"There are millions of people like you and I who can do the same magnificent things that you and I can, born to a galaxy of trillions... So don't ever think for a moment that you aren't special, and don't forget that just because you put down the saber ten more won't pick up their own the very next moment.", he said as he took one last sip, gulping it down before he sighed lightly and said one final thing.

"There will always be a war to fight, whether or not you're in it. The difference is, you won't be there to save a couple more lives that might have made it with your help."


[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

Ha. This was she liked the new guys. They still fought their battles with truth. Not bone.

Monica thought back to Galactic Center. When her Destroyer went down over the city. She sacrificed the lives of thousands of men and women on her boat to save a hundred thousand souls more down below. She still didn't doubt the truth of it. They'd won after all. The air strikes had stopped. The sector had limped on. But? Man. It was a lot of funerals to attend. A lot of good people all dead on her orders. And it still hadn't solved anything either. The Alliance had bought the planet, what? Four years. Five years of peace. Maybe.

"Maybe."

He was right though. There will, never be a time without war. I guess she hadn't gotten used to that yet.

"Mm. ...Well."

She straighten up. Monica knew when she was whipped. Hard to get drunk when you know there's still work to be done. Duty calls, I suppose.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning then."

She nodded and turned to round about the bar. Slowing pouring out the rest of her liquid in the sink and placing the empty glass in the cleaning bin. Not a waste. Just some for the soldiers. Then she turned to retrieve her fluffy coat.

Looks like she was calling it a night.

[member="Vennic Graves"]