Satellite Mind (OP)

[Felicity Mason]

The place was not important. All space looked the same in the big scheme of things. Out in the black, all you had were tiny pinpricks here and there to light the way, and even that wasn't much. They all looked the same from a distance.

Felicity knew one thing for certain, space was creepy. And cold. She couldn't really sleep out in space. Not well at least. She'd taken to going on walks through the ships corridors lately while most of the crew slept. It was a good way of shaking her head clear of what her stupid head pictures showed her. They never made sense, and lately, they made even less sense. Smoke? Stars? And... a gem? Some gaudy indigo gem that she kept seeing over and over. She didn't understand. When space wizards received visions, they usually made sense, didn't they? Or at least the space wizard was smart enough to know what it meant, right?

As she made her was past the bridge, the sound of a distress call could be heard through the doors. But Felicity couldn't make out the message as she waited by the door. Even on the bridge, the message was hardly more than noise.

"Atten... Nee... Crew of... Life support.... Offline..."

Well, looked like they'd be arriving at their destination a little late.

 

[Uriel]

Meanwhile, Uriel was on the bridge, force sword and bolt pistol mag-clamped to his thigh plates as they always were. His helmet, cradled in his hand, was not there to conceal what little concern he had on his face; stoic to a fault, the Brother-Sergeant was only showing so much emotion as always.

This distress call was disturbing. On the ship's bridge, the Inquisition officer made a mental note.

"Let's set course for that distress beacon," Uriel said. "Gather me an away team of volunteers to investigate the threat and have them meet me on the bridge."

Anyone who wanted to check out the ship could come up there and meet with him. He'd issue orders and they could check out... whatever it was.

 

[Felicity Mason]

Set course. Volunteers. Felicity's young heart raced in her chest. This was her chance. If she could prove herself, maybe she would be allowed to join the Protectorate military. Maybe they would make an exception for her, despite her age. And then she wouldn't have to go live with the Baroness and train to be a 'Lady'. They wanted volunteers. They did not say how old, or who they had to be. She may just be cargo today, being transported on this ship because it was easier than hiring a private ship for her, but today she could be something different. She didn't have to just be the Queens daughter.

"I volunteer," she announced stepping onto the bridge, "Let me help."

...It was only after she said it that she realized that not only did she mumble, she looked like she'd been eavesdropping the whole time. The girl winced.

"I-I mean... May I? Please?"

[member="Uriel"]

 

[Roth Tillian]

Roth frowned as the spheres that floated in the air in front of him wobbled unsteadily. They weren't supposed to do that. He let them drop to the floor where they clattered across the durasteel and rolled under his bunk. So be it. He'd go do something else for now. Take a walk while it was relatively quiet. The door shot open with a hiss and he strode into the quiet corridors, footsteps echoing through the halls around him as others passed quietly, working on their own business.

A familiar sound caught his ears. A distress signal. Well, so much for that. He broke into a fast walk heading towards the bridge to see what was going on. Not that he had much authority here, but old habits died hard, and he'd spent a long time as a freelancer. He entered and caught the tail end of Uriel's speech. Perfect timing then.

"Do we have any information yet on what the distress signal is?"

 

[Uriel]

"None whatsoever," Uriel said to the arriving pilot, [member="Roth Tillian "]. The Inquisitor was sufficiently concerned about this, arms folded, as others arrived. He looked at the two gathered - Roth and [member="Felicity Mason"] - and considered.

"Do either of you have combat experience?" he asked. A distress beacon often meant boarding actions and occasionally pirates. Pirates were common, in Omega space. Especially when it came to the fact that this young lady didn't carry herself like a warrior at all. No confidence. No self-discipline.

Two would not be enough for this. He knew.

More people would be around the ship pointing volunteers to the bridge.

 

[Vulps]

Zarro's ears pricked as he heard the discussion in the bridge. Having come aboard the ship only to get passage to the next stop, he found little reason in taking a detour to help those in need. "Turning the hall to make his way in, he joined the others. "Seems someone's getting a lot of attention from us. I'll join in the job."

 

[Felicity Mason]

"The invasion of Naboo," she answered immediately, "I... err....I... bit an assassins fingers off. I think she bled to death."

She almost mumbled it. So soft she almost couldn't hear it herself. She looked down at her feet, shyly tucking a lock of curly blonde hair behind her torn left ear, one of the scars from the encounter. Truth was, she wasn't super proud of it. She could still taste the blood. But then again, it really was self defense. The assassin had been asking for it, really.

"Look, my daddy taught me how to protect myself," she snapped, "Give me a blaster and you'll see what I can do!"

[member="Uriel"]

 

[Roth Tillian]

Roth smirked at Felicity's statement and Uriel's question. He had combat training and experience, that was for sure. Close to a lifetime of it, both as Susefvi security and Jensaarai. He nodded. "Lots of it. Predominantly a fighter pilot, but I've been on more than a few boarding missions before with Susefvi defense forces." He strode over to the displays aboard the bridge, winking at other crew-members to get a better look. "Can the scanners here indicate what type of distress the ship is in?"

If it was pirates, that would be one approach. Mechanical breakdown would be another. But they needed more information. Only Corellians dove into situations before finding out what was ahead of them, and that because they were arrogant, or lucky enough, to think they could always survive. Worked fine for freelancing. Didn't work in security forces. It got more people killed than necessary.

 

[Uriel]

To the new arrival-- [member="Zarro Verres"]-- Uriel offered a nod from between the exceptionally broad shoulders of his armour. He was certanly an intersting sort and Uriel distrusted only Force users, not aliens. He would be a welcome hand.

To [member="Roth Tillian"], Uriel was most intrigued. He knew his stuff, certainly. "Not yet," indicated the Inquisitor. "We are too far away for our scanners to pick this up. We will be reverting from hyperspace in a matter of twenty minutes and once we have done so we will know more." His speech was clipped, precise; almost Imperial in its nature. But he was certainly no Imperial lackey; it was simply eloquence mixed with enunciation.

To [member="Felicity Mason"], however, he was most intrigued. A steely brow quirked upwards at her quiet statement, mnore curious about her background than anything. But this was no time for an interrogation. "Very well. Young lady, collect yourself a blaster," said the soldier, who looked rather... deadly, with a sword and a huge bolt pistol strapped to him, as well as armour so big it almost doubled his presence. The contrast was incredible. "And carry yourself with a ilttle more self-respect. You have no need to be so quiet amongst friends."

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

"If you're checking that chite out, you're frakking taking me." Drapeam Nyx was not one for subtle movements. Nor was good at first impressions, explaining her side of things, or volunteering for a potentially dangerous mission. Especially when she was in space. Oh boy, she hated space. There was no up! No gravity! Just a bunch of wibbly wobbly God-awful nothingness. "Private D.S. Nyx, former Blackblade Guard, trained sniper, assassin, scout, and soldier. Leaving me behind would be a mistake." She wasn't talking to anyone in particular. No, she was just adressing everyone on the bridge, not really sure (or caring) who was in charge. There was a reason she was just a Private. However, she decided it would be best to make a guess, and try to show some level of respect to someone. Just as a way to try to get them to take her with.
She glanced at Uriel.

"Sir."

[member="Uriel"] | [member="Roth Tillian "]| [member="Zarro Verres"] | [member="Felicity Mason"]​

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Space, a frontier full of mysteries and adventures that seem to be infinite to those who venture out into the stars to fill their desires of what is out there parsecs away from their home planet and see if there is something else that was foreign to them. No matter how far you could go in the trek of whatever adventure you were undergoing you could never fill yourself of adventuring and discovering what you could find on your own private spaceship and flying to try to quench the never ending hunger that spacers craved for. Much like a poet needed his poetry to feed himself and calm the hunger of understanding the emotions of living beings, so was an adventurer that went to known and unknown to fulfill the needs of what his mind bothered him or her to do. Even if science and technology had truly unraveled the secrets and mysteries of space an adventurer would still always enter hyperspace and wait what his day would bring to him.

Much like today of what was happening to the Omega Protectorate out into dead space. The distress called could not be ignored as it was sent out to all available ships and Protectorate worlds, for it was the many lives that made constructed and made the ranks of the Protectorate military. At the bridge of one particular ship of the whole Protectorate Navy was many soldiers assigned to the bridge or simply went to hear the distress call of the soldiers in peril, since they're life support systems were offline. Many brave ones volunteered to go in all shapes and sizes. However, there were some that were simply out of their league and had no combat experience.

"If the girl is to come, then whatever happens to her will not be our fault and if she can't agree to those terms then she won't be coming along with us." Everyone obviously knew who this girl was. The daughter of the current Queen of Naboo. And those types of people were the ones who didn't know what they were doing on a battlefield and didn't want to dirty their own hands. And that was something Devon did not want to deal with, since it could be a possibility just by profiling the royal figure of her personality. And that could definitely cause problems in an operation.

[member="Drapeam Nyx"] @Roth Tillian @Uriel @Felicity Mason

 

[Felicity Mason]

"Yes sir!"

That was all the meek girl needed to hear. Someone believed in her, at least enough to let her come. She may be her mothers daughter, but she was also her fathers daughter. Daddy had always said a few things to her when it came to her getting into fist fights at the Academy. One; Do something crazy. They'll never expect it. Two; make sure you hurt them more than they hurt you. Three; Kick 'em in the balls and run. She always took his advice to heart. Daddy knew how to fight dirty, and Felicity had learned from the best.

"I have nothing to prove to you," she snorted at [member="Devon Gramus"] as she walked past him, "Believe I can take care of myself, or don't. Just don't you dare assume I would back down just because things get messy."

That was always the way of it. Okay. So sometimes she didn't know how to talk to the military types without getting nervous. They were intimidating! Felicity was used to talking to teenage nobles, for Force sake! Just because she sometimes had a stutter, that didn't mean she was a baby!

"Besides, you're assuming this is anything other than a simple rescue mission. You shouldn't jump to conclusions, stupid."

[member="Drapeam Nyx"] @Roth Tillian [member="Zarro Verres"] [member="Uriel"]

 

[Uriel]

[member="Drapeam Nyx"] [member="Felicity Mason"] [member="Devon Gramus"] [member="Roth Tillian "][member="Zarro Verres"]

His voice suddenly cut through like a sword, slashing his way through the savagery of condescension. "Enough! You will not debate her merits here," said Uriel, turning to stare down the new arrival aboard his bridge. "She is a warrior. She knows that her life is her own. Question her willpower again and I will question you."

And you never wanted an Inquisitor questioning you.

Fortunately for Devon, at that exact moment, the starship dropped out of hyperspace; the damaged ship was there, in front of them, a few kilometres away. It was a twisted visage of broken metal, flickering lights in damaged viewports and gaseous trails. The ship had obviously been very severely damaged by... actually, what had it been damaged by? That was not turbolaser scoring. That was not a ship that had come under attack by, say, pirates. The giant transport vessel's hangar had a blue magcon field sealing it, fortunately. One could get through it with relative ease.

"There is a dropship in the hangar. Collect your gear and prepare to deploy," ordered the Brother-Sergeant, turning to be the first off the bridge. His helmet sealed over his face as he double-checked the seal on it; ready for war with bolt pistol and force sword, the Inquisitor intended to be fully aware of whatever it was on that ship. They would need weapons and vacuum-sealed armour - for those without their own kit, Omega Mark II battle armour would be plenty for the mission. The armoury would be able to provide whatever they needed.

Without hesitation, he was aboard the transport. If anyone had last-minute questions, personal doubts, or the need to heave into their helmets.

 

[Felicity Mason]

The girls young face split into a calm smile as the gentleman named Uriel stood up or her without hesitation. She had a childish urge to stick her tongue out at the one to doubt her before, but she fought it. She wasn't a child anymore. Well, okay. Technicaaly, according to Protectorate law, she was under age, but forget that. She was too old to be sticking her tongue out at people like a little brat.

She didn't hesitate. This was her first real chance to prove herself. Maybe if she did really well, some exception could be made for her. She'd be able to defend the Protectorate. She'd be able to help! She had to. She felt such a weight on her shoulders. These people had defended her family, her friends, her people and all of Naboo from invaders. There was a debt hanging over her that she very much needed to repay. She was desperate to.

The girl ran all the way to the armory to retrieve the supplies for the mission. The Princess was a thin girl. Nobody liked to say 'scrawny' in front of her, for fear of making her self-consious, but that was what she knew she was. As a result, the armor gave her the distinct impression of trying to wear a spaceship. She didn't so much wear it, as inhabit it. She hurried to the shuttle, badly fitting suit and all, with her helmet tucked under one arm. At her waist, she carried a small blaster, and in her belt, the knife she was once given as a lifeday present from Uncle B. She took it with her everywhere. It was what saved her life on Naboo, so many times.
She sat down in the shuttle, wordlessly, but positively trembling with anticipation.

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Aella watched the scene unfold before her with her arms folded and her lips tightly sealed. Only when the girl departed did she clear her throat and step forward, coming to a stop just behind [member="Uriel"].

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

A fresh recruit, she held no rank of importance, Uriel was in charge of her, and she'd learnt from their first meeting, he didn't like it when she simply voiced what she thought without warning. She did not, however, wait for his response. "I feel, like that was poor judgement on your part. Whether or not she can defend herself is irrelevant, she's an infant, and we could be walking into a trap."

[member="Uriel"]

 

[Uriel]

"She is not unblooded," remarked the Inquisitor to @Aella. Not their first meeting, she'd been effectively hired not for the fact that she was a Force-user (and we all know how Uriel felt about those) but for the fact she could do her job. She could speak her mind and did her job well. It was what kept her here.

He didn't mind her outbursts. He just didn't like Forcies on principle.

"I know she is more capable than many give her credit for. I have seen her more than once operating with Omega. Were this her first deployment, I would have more than likely kicked her off the bridge and told her to stay in quarters. No, she will be fine. Besides. She is my responsibility. I will ensure her safety if the need arises."

The hulking space marine stowed his weapons under his seat-- well, okay, both seats, given that this transport was made for more mundane warriors-- and looked to the mercenary. "If she has been tested and survived, who are we to judge, hm? Take a seat and wait for the others. We depart momentarily."

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Aella pursed her lips and frowned slightly. "There is a great difference between 'blooded' and 'capable'." She shrugged, taking the seat opposite him. "You know more than I do. She's eager, I'll give her that."

Tipping her head back against the bulkhead she blew a sigh out of her nose. "Still," she continued opening her eyes. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Too much is unknown..." she trailed off her negative line of thought and fell into a contemplative silence, staring at a spot on the bulkhead above [member="Uriel"], she tried to get a gauge on what was causing her such discomfort. Still a padawan, she had a great deal to learn about quieting her own doubts and questions long enough to hear what the force had to say.

[member="Uriel"]

 

[Felicity Mason]

The Princess was used to this by now. This constant doubt. Even after the invasion of Naboo, nobody could really bring themselves to imagine that the petite girl was capable of doing anything other than fanning herself daintily and giggling. Not that she couldn't do those things, or that there was anything inherently wrong with dainty fanning or giggling. It was just that Felicity liked to think that she was capable of a great deal more than that.

She sat in the shuttle, quietly keeping to herself. You know that awful itching feeling on the back of your neck when you know somebody is talking about you? How about that in addition to having nearly every eye of the crew on you as well. Judging. Trying to measure her up, decide what she was worth, debate how many lives she'll cost during the mission when she inevitably messed up. Swearing under her breath, the girl pulled her blonde curls into a messy pony tail then shoved the helmet on to hide her pink cheeks.

One person believed in her. That was all she needed. Just one. Uriel trusted her. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. She ran her fingers along the knife at her side. She was ready for this. She had nothing to prove to her doubters. They would refuse to acknowledge her achievements simply because of her age no matter what. But she had everything to prove to the one who gave her trust.

[member="Uriel"] [member="Aella"] [member="Devon Gramus"] [member="Drapeam Nyx"] @Roth Tillian [member="Zarro Verres"]

 

[Roth Tillian]

Roth joined them in the transport, grimacing behind the face plate of the armor. It was like being stuck in a walking coffin. That was why he stuck to flight suits and his armored clothing. It let him move and breathe. This... did not. But then, neither did starship hulks, so it was a lose-lose situation. He'd bear it for now. Not to mention it moved his blaster pistol and lightsaber from where he liked to keep them and he wasn't sure he'd be able to find them as quickly.

More importantly, who was flying the dropship? In a vessel this size, he really didn't trust others to fly ships for him. Not that he had anything against other pilots, they just weren't as good as he was, and he hated sloppy flying. People died from that. Roth had no desire to die. He stuck his head in the transport area.

"Unless someone has an issue, I'll fly us in."