Silver and Iron

[Will Westender]

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Attn: [member="Allyson Locke"]​

Equipment: Lightsaber (Blade color: Blue) | R9 Astromech Droid​

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• Hangar 15
  Silver Spacy Base, Kashyyk Orbit

Upon contemplation, it still surprised Will just how familiar the seemingly chaotic activity of a hangar bay, had become and how quickly he had begun to feel at home in here, even though he had never even seen the navigation console of a starship until he joined the Silver Jedi naval academy, a short year ago. In that time, he had experienced much. The feeling of dread when an exam was due the next day and he was unsure whether or not he would pass it, the friendships he had forged there, with the other rookies in his squadron, he had discovered the joy of jumping in the cockpit of a fighter and experiencing the freedom of spreading his wings and just cruising through the empty void.

He had also experienced the loss of some of those friendships and all the other associated horrors that come with being on the front lines of war. Of course, he had witnessed war before and he had known he would eventually have to pick up the sword himself, one day, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer horror of it. It made him respect the hardships and sacrifices endured by his secret brethren from Nelvaan even more, but he had also gained a new perspective about the Jedi and their actions.

It was a great tragedy that the Jedi and the Eternal Empire couldn't find common ground. They were both just seeking to defend life, albeit in different ways and ultimately, the galaxy would greatly benefit if they all decided to set aside their differences and work together to accomplish what was, in the end, a common goal. There was value in the teachings of both, if only they chose to see it.

Beep-beep-boop-beep, his trusty R9 unit interrupted his musings, impatiently inquiring how long they had to wait here in the hangar. For some reason, R9 didn't like sitting around amongst all the noise of the mechanical equipment the deck crews were using to maintain the immensely complicated machines that were the starfighters of the Silver Spacy. Despite this quirk and several others, Will had chosen not to wipe the memory of his droid.

"I know, R9. But we have to obey the Masters' instructions," he replied. "Besides, its not so bad. We'll be back in a starfighter and flying out of here before you know it."

Boop-beep-boop, the droid responded, causing Will to shake his head and let out a sigh, despite the amused grin on his face. "Oh, come on, R9. Now you're just exaggerating."

Waving to his droid to follow, he made his way through the hangar to the woman he was supposed to meet, coming to a halt a couple of meters from where she was. Dropping his duffel bag to the floor, he stood at attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Commander Locke? I'm Airman William Westender, reporting for duty. I was instructed to meet you here."

 

[Allyson Locke]

The hangers were humming with life and Allyson was smack in the middle of it. She sat on one of the short stools and went over a data pad. Her mind was engrossed with the blueprints of the fighter she was working on. A hand waved over the datapad and pulled the blueprints into a three-dimensional hologram so she could examine it a bit more. Fingers pulled and tugged at the schematic and she continued to happily hum to herself.

Her days had been a bit calmer, she wasn’t called for active duty for the invasion of Azure – which in her opinion she was happy about. There were other missions she needed to take care of, and she did. For the most part the hanger was in good spirits and she welcomed the lighter tone of things. Exhaling softly, she continued to work and now that she had an idea of where the issue was, the Corellian could fix the fighter and move on to the next.

Slender, toned arms slipped from the military green jacket she wore. Carefully she hung it on the stool and tossed her dog tags over her shoulder. The cool metal touched her skin, the Corellian decided against a t-shirt today and wore her tank-top with her typical dark navy slacks with the bright red Corellian bloodstripe down the side. As her arms were shoulder deep into the engine of the X-Wing, a voice rang out behind her. Typically, the only person that would come down to pester her when she was working was a certain Jedi Master, but instead of giving a full address of her title, a whimsical quip usually was the greeting.

The person addressing her was meaning business it seemed and that business was also one that she had forgotten about. “One moment please.” She exclaimed with a slight panic as she wormed her way back out of the engine block. Turning, the brunette did her best to wipe any grim from her face, but it didn’t help much. There were a few streaks, but her arms were easily wiped clean with a towel.

Holding out her hand she smiled, “Yep, that’s me, but you can just call me Allyson. Is it okay if I just call you William? Military jargon and titles kind of ruin moments in my opinion.” Reaching out she grabbed an extra stool and placed it for the man. She sat on hers of course after moving the datapad. “So, what can I do for you? I think from what I remember of your profile, you just graduated flight school?” She continued smile as she looked forward to getting to know the new pilot, he seemed a bit straight laced, but hanging around the Corellian he may loosen up a bit.

Hopefully.

[member="Wilhelm von Reinhardt"]