[The Resistance] One Hundred Eight Hours

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

RNS SOLEMN PURPOSE​

Hangar Bay​

An operating period exceeding one hundred hours of continuous use was sub-optimal for human-organic efficiency.

Conditions on the flight deck and hangar bay reflected that diagnosis of the situation. Starfighters lifted off without being recycled for refueling or proper avionic checks. In part because the compressed battle rhythm did not permit sufficient time in which to conduct all the necessary maintenance on an entire fighter wing. But, the checklist of items that were being neglected had steadily increased with each successive hour after the first thirty-six hour period. BB estimated that maintenance crew efficiency was down by more than sixty-four percent.

Mistakes were being made.

Emotional volatility caused delays in proper troubleshooting diagnosis. And, in one case, had resulted in a technician inserting a spanner through the intake manifold of a T-70 actuator, causing sufficient material damage to the thrust engine as to ground the starfighter.

The Sith need not attack their starfighters. Their own engineers had started to cave to their own weaknesses as sleep deprivation, anxiety, and other organic variables acted to destabilize the unit cohesiveness with which the maintenance activity normally ran in tandem with the flight ops.

And the BB-4001X model could hardly blame them. At this duration of continuous activity, even BB's diatium power cells were operating at extremely low levels.

It was not like the droid's job was complete once the starfighters were launched. There were damage control parties that were required to maintain the integrity of the ship as it fell under attack. With more and more of the organic engineers and technicians succumbing to their inherent vulnerabilities for sustenance and sleep, the droids were fielding more and more of the load.

So the droid was calculating the most efficient times in which to take cat naps himself -- brief interludes of power regeneration cycles calculated to run for no more than ten minutes. It had been just five minutes originally, but the amount of power recycled had proven insufficient in keeping the droid operating at full capacity. He'd begun triaging his own deteriorating condition, selectively terminating those functions that were not essential in maintaining systems and performing engineering tasks.

Those crews working on the flight deck had observed what could only have been called the death of personality. As starfighter crews lingered near their cockpits in sleep deprived states of near zombification, the small droid made his way from one bird to the next. When they had begun, the droid had been personable and chatty. Now, his protocol brain was shut down to conserve energy. He was operating off the secondary droid brain that was programmed for technical functions only.

At least until he could power down completely and undergo a refresh, it would have to be this way.

 

[Kira Jax]

Good to hear she wasn't witnessing someone give up. They couldn't, not when they had come so far. And they had come a long ways since Thyferra. Running, always running. An armed retreat, for sure, but still a retreat. How many pilots, how many men and woman had they lost in their retreat? Too many. Too damn many. Maybe one day, they could pay the bastards back, life for life.

If they went the way of this new Supreme Commander, maybe they'd get the chance. Total war wouldn't have sounded too ethical in her previous life, but now she had seen what their enemies were capable of. Sometimes, the best way to fight a monster was to become a monster.

'course, none of that was going to matter if her ship didn't work. She nodded to the two people working on the fighter, and moved away, a Togruta moving in to talk to the woman. Talk had its points, its moments, but by the Force, she felt the itch for work. So, back to her X-Wing she went. While she was gone, the quick repair she had done had fallen off her wing.

Great. Even more work, now. But still, all she wanted was to hear the call. The longer she went without it, the more and more worried she got.

 

[Auri Vesta]

"Hey, I worked for the Republic. I know how at least to pretend to be professional." She quipped back to Vaun as she locked speed with the X-Wings in front of her. They guided her to the Solemn Purpose, where a space tether awaited their arrival as promised. Once they were latched, Auri stood up from her pilot seat. She knew Mereel had put up a fuss about coming here, but she was kind of glad that they had. She'd been smuggling across the galaxy for years, yet she'd never hauled cargo for a group like this. She could see so much bustle in the hangar from her vantage in stasis above it. So much chaos and lack of coordination. How would this Resistance survive the day?

So it was out of morbid curiosity that she wished to board the ship and get a closer look at the men and women who would risk their lives for this cause. Auri had never allowed herself to trust in causes. Causes got people killed, nine times out of ten. It didn't matter how noble or just your motivations were, numbers won wars. Mereel was a walking testament to that. Death Watch had been a ragtag group of heroes trying to save the old Mandalorian ways, and look where that had gotten them. If she hadn't stumbled upon him and helped him escape, he'd still be rotting away in some cell on Endor.

Auri walked into her quarters to pop a pill of hyper-refined Andris before heading to her closet to grab a vac-suit. The stim caused her to jitter a bit as she finished putting her clothes back on over the skin tight space suit. She stopped by her astromech droid on her way to the boarding ramp.

"Watch the ship for me okay R9? When they bring her in for unloading, make sure they don't put any scratches on the hull okay?"

The droid beeped back an excited reply.

"Yes you have my permission to zap them if they do." She grinned, then called to Mereel. "You brought a vac-suit right?" She assumed he'd be coming with her, though he didn't really have to if he didn't want to.

Several minutes later, she was being pressurized inside the airlock of the Solemn Purpose. She nodded to the engineers working the airlock console as she entered. No deck officer to meet her or anything like that.

I guess there were plenty of other things to hold their attention at the moment.

Still, she had thought the resupply of fuel would be a little bit more urgent. Perhaps their situation wasn't as dire as she'd been lead to believe.

The first thing she noticed as she walked into the main hangar was how tired everyone looked. It seemed everyone was either wide-eyed from too much stim, or fighting to not fall asleep. She thought she'd been tired when she'd popped the spice, but this was another level entirely.

"Hey! Hotshot! Know where I can find the deck officer around here?" She called to a pilot standing by her X-Wing ([member="Kira Jax"]). Ah the X-Wing Starfighter by Incom, now there was a fun ship to fly. She'd never actually handled one in real life, but it had been her favorite of the flight sims in the Aeronautics Department at Coronet University. Seeing it brought back good memories of simpler times.

She put a hand on the ships hull. This one had taken a beating recently. The fuselage was all scraped and blackened from glancing hits. All in all though, it looked like the girl had gotten out pretty lucky.

[member="Mereel Vaun"]

 

[Mariya Pyne]

Mariya wasn't a soldier. She wasn't a Jedi. She wasn't much of anything, really. Scared? That was something she was. Too young to be involved in what she had gotten herself into? That was definite. But here she was, all the same, hunkered in with a cargo bay full of refugees, doling out rations, medicine, and what little they had for bedding left to those in need. First were the injured and sick, then the children. The rest? Well, they'd have to make due with the comfort of a rolled up jacket or sweater as a pillow and a smooth piece of durasteel for a bed. The smell was oppressive, sickening even. Countless people herded together like cattle for days without a sonic. It was going to be a long trip. Mariya and her Twi'lek pal Katerina had loaned their YT-class freighter to The Resistance to transport goods and whatever other cargo they could fit aboard. It wasn't much, but it was what they could do to help. Nobody knew Mariya here, which was for the best. Kept her out of trouble, and out of a spotlight she didn't want on herself.

"Here you go." She said, smiling as she set a blanket with a small chocolate bar on top into a human boy's hands. He couldn't have been older than seven. His face beamed with a vibrant smile that widened her own.

Despite the lack of sleep. How long had she even been up? She lost track. The girl had given her datapad to one of the other children to keep them occupied. The brunette wanted to be of better use, but she hadn't quite an array of options. Katerina could pilot like all hell, but Mariya? Not so much. She could keep a ship moving, but under pressure she'd crack faster than an egg. And boy, there was plenty of pressure. Mariya's skills were in smuggling, sneaking around, and she wasn't half bad with a blaster. But none of those skills were quite needed here. So there she was, ensuring that the folks in the cargo bays remained as calm and comfortable as possible until they reached a destination where they could disembark, stretch, and get some peaceful rest. For many, they had just lost their homes, that wasn't the case for Mariya, but she understood their situation was grim.

 

[Brooke Waters]

That feeling of the whole ship buzzing with excitement? She knew that feeling. It was that excitement before an exam, and the thrill of a sparring match in front of a crowd. Sure, Savannah knew her martial arts, and had done a few expos with it, during her time in university, but this feel? It was so much more. The ship was full of refugees and soldiers, the people that she knew she could help. She couldn’t help but smile as she perused the wares being sold, buying a dress, and hat, and some new boots, not really the top of the line, but spending her money on Resistance Actual was going to help the people here.

What she was really needing was to meet with her contact and find a way to help the people here. She was smiling at everyone, trying to be a fresh face, fresh energy into the web that was this ship. But it was always tricky. Still, her faithful BB unit was right at her heel as she made her way into the Jedi quarters. She had made sure there was at least a bunch for herself, even if she could hang out on her own ship, it was nice to have another bed. Dropping her new wares off in the footlocker provided. Now it was just time to get to the Jedi common area.

She was waiting on the … did he say Jensaarai? They were a different bunch, that was what she did know.

Then she’d get out to helping make someone’s day a little brighter.

[member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Angel's legs seemed to take extra thought to make move, weighed a tonne too. Was she stomping? Or was it just because she was aware of how heavy her legs felt that she could have sworn they were gonna wear more dents in the flight deck. She grabbed a tin cup, left from her last grounding and went on the hunt for a caff pot.

One hundred and eight hours...that was what over four galactic standard days? Four days without proper rest...four days since she'd sent a message to her Pa. He'd be worried too. She spotted a caff pot in the hands of [member="Laira Vereen"] and made a beeline for her. Any other time, she might have hung back, considered the level of rude she was about engage in but any other time she wasn't sleep deprived or in such desperate need for the bitter liquid in her hand.

She seemed to materialise Laira's elbow. "Can I just...?" she plucked the pot from her hands, filling her mug before taking a gulp. "Oh gods that's good. Thanks." She handed back the pot. "Sorry." A sheepish grin found her face and she ducked out before she could intrude on the conversation anymore. Hiding an ear popping yawn behind her hand she headed back to her ship and settled on the floor at the foot of the ladder. There was a buzz in the air, anger and joy clashing...she ought to have paid attention to the announcement. Not that it mattered really, whatever happened whatever was decided she was here now, and here she'd stay.

Not just because she believed in it, but because she'd lost four wing mates in the last hundred and eight hours. Wing mates whose names would be smoke in the wind, who faces she would never be able to recall because they hadn't been there long enough to become ingrained. And they were only her wing mates. How many pilots had disappeared in flashes of flame? Her eyes stung and she shook herself, sniffing once and wiping her face before forcing herself to her feet again.

To leave would be disrespectful. She and everyone else on this ship was alive for the price they had paid.

 

[Mav Halo]

On-board the Solemn Purpose
Jedi Quarter; Training Room Aurek​

​

A sea of sweat glistened on her brow as she shifted through the seemingly endless stream of forms she’d practiced since Thyferra, her body almost trembling from the heavy exertion that even the simplest of blade stances now exacted. Pushing herself from one end of the cycle through to the next, imposing on her body to keep itself moving well past the limits of her depleted stamina, drawing on the force to supplement where it failed. She held no skill as a pilot, nor any as a budding mechanic. At best she was a failed scholar turned Jedi; nothing but a burden in the long hours since their escape. No, she only had the quietness of the Jedi Quarter and her own lightsaber to keep herself preoccupied.

The training room was bathed in a burnt orange glow as Parting the Silk met The Moon Rises over Water, in turn becoming The Rose Unfolds which twisted into the Striking the Spark. Fanciful names for fanciful forms, ingrained from an early age by her tutors on Cesya. Forever tinting her Form II with the inescapable colours of Tapani duelling. As much as it had vexed her instructors within the New Jedi Order, with its flourishes and twirling, she drew comfort on it now. The familiarity a welcome distraction from the unstable, flickering sea of emotions that whirled beneath the surface.

Her attempts to embrace the void faltering at every turn by the embers of anger and, yes, even fear that had persisted since they’d left Thyferra. Angry at the Sith and her own inability to stem the bloodshed that wrought upon the Bacta world. Fearing what would arise in the days to come when the silence and the realities of which finally set in.

Ar’krai.

The word had seared through the ship like wildfire, the vessel abuzz with a sea of elated emotions that shone through the force, somehow managing to pierce through the heady veil of exhaustion and fatigue. It was to be total war, then. With no holds barred and no mercy given; a singular embracement of death. She supposed the Jedi in her should have been abhorred by the entire concept it presented, to take umbrage at the endless bloodshed and carnage that such a mandate could only bring about. Yet any objections the Tapani Jedi might have once entertained had died four days ago. Another nameless victim on those red stained streets.

Her lightsaber abruptly snapped shut with a muted fizzppt, eyes rapidly blinking at the sudden shift of light. Or perhaps simply to stall the endless replay of scenes that threatened to surge up in its absence.

Ar’krai might not have been the Jedi way, but the Sith had bared their teeth and shown their colours.

Now was the time to return the favour in kind.

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Still aboard the Rimrunner​

Mereel was so busy taking in the Solemn Purpose that Auri had already left the ship when R9 rolled up next to him. The astromech brought him back to reality with a quick series of high pitched beeps. "No, I didn't forget my vacsuit R9. I'm wearing it."

The astromech let out two slow, lower pitched beeps. "No. I'm not drunk. This suit is sealed and ha- why am I explaining this to you?"

Mereel got up out of the copilot seat and walked briskly past the astromech droid and over to the airlock where the Rimrunner was tethered to the Solemn Purpose. He opened the Rimrunner's outer airlock, as the oxygen drained around him, he smiled. This was the first time he had used his armor's life support unit in a vacuum.

A minute later, Mereel was asking two Solemn Purpose airlock engineers where he could go to refill his flasks as they pressurized the airlock. One of them responded with "Capitol Row" before both walked off to resume their other duties.

As he entered the main hangar he saw that Auri had already found a new ship to admire. Pilots. Mereel decided that he would go looking for this "Capitol Row" on his own and let the pilots talk about their piloty things.

He called out to Auri as he walked past her and a pilot a few meters away, he didn't want her trying to grab him and roping him into talking about starfighters. "Hey, Auri! I'm off to find a bar to refill my sleep medicine. If you need me use commchannel 173-B, 'b' as in bravo."

[member="Auri Vesta"] [member="Kira Jax"]

 

[Synthia Fellstarr]

[member="Kira Jax"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cjEgovupTw​

Synthia was slouched in a recline inside the cockpit of her X-90. Her legs were propped up on the front control panel. She was still in her pilot suit and was listening to some acid glitz music on her vox-box device. Her head was cocked back and with her eyes closed, once again failing to catch a merciful nap. Behind her, a cheerpy black BB-K8 whistled and bleeped complaints at its master and pilot.

"You're a real farking killjoy you know that Screech." Synthia spat at the BB-K8, Screech. Screech rolled around in fury beneath the x-wing's long nose prow. It tweeted and bleeped. Synthia opened one of her closed eyes to glare down at the BB droid. "It's not like we got blasted out the sky. And anyways I managed to scrap the TIEs following us."

Screech stopped its rolling to glare and hiss electronically. "I do not have a death wish!"

Another protesting beep, followed by a sombre whimper. "I'm fine Screech."

Synthia closed her eyes. I'm just tired of living. Her mind mumbled to her thoughts. She had defected from the Sith Empires TIE corps months ago, killing her own squadron in the process, and she could still hear their calls and cries. Traitor! Scum!...​Murderer. Synthia exhaled heavily and jolted up from her recline gripping the side panelling of her cockpit to leap down to the flight deck's durasteel floor.

"Can't get a farking second of shut eye." Synthia growled. Screech replied rolling to his master's side. "No I didn't take my sleep meds. And no its not insomnia. Stop acting like a therapy droid, mother of banthas!"

As Synthia wandered from her x-wing she spotted the other members of the Black Squadron she was assigned to. She hadn't spent much time to get to know them and word travelled fast of Synthia's dubious past as a Sith TIE Commando. It made sense to her, why spend time with someone who's express occupation in the past was to blast some their friends out of the heavens. Synthia passed by [member="Angel"], who was chugging into a cop of caf.

Synthia strolled beside her, crossing her arms and leaning onto her starfighter. "Still alive huh?" Synthia greeted her squadron mate with snark.

 

[Kira Jax]

Come on, come on, almost there! Kira kept working with her wrench, tightening a panel that had come loose during the last attack. She was a mechanic, and a good one, but there was only so much one could do for a ship without new parts. And they never had the time to scavenge from the dead ships they left behind, not with the constant attacks from the Sith. So, she had to make do with random scrap she found lying around. Never in her life had she expected to turn a ship into a patchwork quilt of metal, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

As she set down her wrench, and reached for her small plasmatorch, she realized someone was talking to her. She frowned, looking away from her work, wiping her hands on her jumpsuit. Hotshot? Hmph. As demeaning nicknames went, it wasn't the worst thing.

"Deck officer?" She scratched her head. "Hell, who knows if he made it through the last attack? Chain of command is a little karked with everyone dyin'. But maybe I can help ya?"

She stuck out her hand in a gesture of greeting and polite friendship.

"Captain Kira Jax, Black One, commanding officer of Black Squadron. How can I assist ya?"

[member="Auri Vesta"] (might as well tag ya [member="Angel"] and [member="Synthia Fellstarr"], I suppose.)

 

[Victor Thrash]

His people didn't sweat much, but he was starting to. These last four days had been rough, but when the Sith Empire set Thyferra ablaze what had started as a simple spice run turned into 'how many people can I fit into my cargo bay'? He had wondered for two days before stumbling across the Solemn Purpose. Before he could drop the civilians off he had been roped into helping them move the massive battlecruiser. Smoke filled the cabin of his freighter, his trusty companion, as he attempted to bury the exhaustion beneath his vices. His radio cracked.

"Arterius? You're good to come back, next shift is flying out now." Thank the Spirits. Galen sat up in his chair and grabbed the ship controls, pulling back on the throttle and letting the cruiser's hangar catch up with him. The heavy freighter wasn't what the ship was meant to carry in its hangar, but these people had made due. His ship's repulsors kicked in as the ship entered the artificial environment the hangar provided. Landing gear hissed out and the Avalon made her first landing in over twenty hours. Galen lifted his visor onto his head and rubbed his eyes before standing from his chair and grabbing his coat.

"Hey kid! We're off!" The 'Kid' in question was some human kid, maybe sixteen. He had tagged along after Galen saved him and his sister. Against his better judgement and after one of the GA soldiers convinced him Galen had let the kid man the turret of his ship, even though most of his ship was automated or cared for by droids. The kid didn't answer. With a sigh Galen lumbered over to the turret and chuckled, finding the teen fast asleep. He'd cried himself to sleep.

With a grunt he picked up the boy on his back and walked down the ramp. He could hear the message being replayed on repeat, "A Rebellion? Against who?" It was more a question to himself than anyone around him. From across the hangar he could see the kid's older sister running towards them, a frustrated look in her eye. He shifted the kid on his back and braced himself for a verbal beating, but it never came. Instead she took her brother from the tall Glaucus and gave a curt nod before carrying the teen away.

This was going to be a long ride.

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Sav Elko"]

Veino forced a smile across his weary face as he stood. The healing had done its job. The kid had taken some nasty injuries as he evacuated Thyferra, and with medics stretched thin to handle the injured soldiers and pilots, Veino had stepped up to fill in the gap. He washed his hands in the antiseptic.

“I’m no Jedi healer, but I did what I could.” He nodded to the now sleeping boy, face pale from shock and blood loss. “He’ll live. Vitals are stable. “

The parents clutched each other in relief and babbled thanks, but he waved them off. “It’s what we do.”

He wiped his hands once more on a bloodstained rag and drifted away, back into the Jedi quarter. Coren was sending his apprentice this way, partly to learn from him, and partly for the experience. Temple life only taught so much. Compassion and care for others could be preached, but it wasn’t until somebody actually found themselves in a situation like this that it became real. No, he and his generation, including Coren, had learned the hard way. Bloody battlefields and wrecked cities.

It was why they never really fit in with the younger members of the NJO, raised in peace time as part of a powerful government. One that would never be able to last forever, unfortunately.

He picked his way into the common area, where a younger woman already was.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Savannah would you?”

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Laira frowned. A what-now-fluctuation? She'd heard of the brand name and she knew they were some of the best stealth detection models on the market, but she knew nothing about how they worked or why. The redhead normally concerned herself with if something worked rather than the minutia of the project that required it to do so. "No, I'm afraid I don't know much about them. Name's Laira, buzz me if you need something."

Laira laughed at the newly arrived pilot, "Yeah, by all means. I'm just trying to pass it around, you know." She needed it just as much as everyone else. Even with the Force and using hibernation trances during her short naps, she was still running on fumes that wouldn't replenish until she got a solid full twenty four hour sleep. "Don't apologize. Hopefully we can all get some sleep soon. Fleet's on standby and its been a while since the clock stopped." Some of the Recon Force was still doing sweeps, and there was one attack wing flying escort nearby of all the pilots the Resistance had cobbled together in the last four days.

Seeing Shamira, an acquaintance from Firemane on the Purpose was a little surprising. She wasn't expecting a ton of people outside the Alliance to be here so quickly, but it was excellent that they were! "Hey Sha. Yeah I'm in one piece, out of gas though. You?"

"Hey, did you hear anything about Outcast Squadron? I haven't heard about them since we got separated during the evac." Laira asked the pair before her with a weak smile. She knew the likelihood of anyone knowing about her squad mates was limited, she hadn't seen them since the ships first left Thyferra after she flew a shuttle full of civilians and government types out and the Purpose left to escort the fleet. Maybe they'd gotten out, they were a rambunctious lot of veterans. But she wouldn't know unless she looked around.

[member="Connory"] [member="Angel"]

 

[Auri Vesta]

"It's a pleasure Captain," Auri accepted the woman's gesture and shook her grimy, grease stained hand. She understood the stress of mechanic work from personal experience, hell she'd had to rewire entire sections of her freighter before. The grease didn't bother her.

"I'm Captain Auri Vesta, title's unofficial though. I'm hauling a cargo bay full of fuel for the fleet, compliments of the GA. I wanted to get it into the ship's manifest but.." She glanced around the hangar. "I can see things are a little hectic at the moment." It was an understatement she knew. The fact that their deck officer seemed to be AWOL was likely not helping the situation.

"We'll catch up Vaun, try to keep yourself alert will ya? We're in the hot zone and there's no telling when there might be trouble." She gave him a two finger salute from over her shoulder as he left. She couldn't lie, there was something about the air here that left you tingling with adrenaline. She didn't know if that was the spice talking, or if there was something genuine about this group of rebels that left people feeling like they could take on the whole Empire themselves.

"So how long you been on shift Captain?" She asked the woman. Auri could tell she was one of the wided eyed ones, wouldn't show a sign of fatigue till she'd passed out on the wing of her X-Wing with a hydospanner in her hand. "I heard about Thyferra, nasty business. Were you there?" Auri leaned against the body of the fighter. If she had time to kill, she'd gladly spend it chatting up the pilots around here. She wasn't such a bad pilot herself, but she'd never been in a milita before. She wanted to hear about it direct from the source. Of course she didn't want to interrupt the woman's work, but she thought she might enjoy some company after the intensity of the past several days.

[member="Mereel Vaun"] [member="Kira Jax"]

 

[Yula Perl]

Avi leaned back in his chair and cocked a brow as someone slipped a piece of paper onto his desk. Well, what amounted to a desk anyhow. Any space they had in the room was taken up by bundles of wires or clunky, outmoded machines.

He nodded faintly when a feminine voice instructed him to send out a message. Finally, something to do even if only for a few minutes. Clearing the fog from his brain, Avi took the piece of paper—as archaic as anything else in this room—and gave her a tired yet amicable smile. She was pretty. Tall too, at least for baseline human standards. On his world she’d be on the shorter side.

“Will do,” He tried to sound chipper through the fatigue as he took a good look over the message.

Avi cleared his throat and began tapping out the encrypted message in code. “So,” Just because they were running on fumes didn’t meant that he couldn’t try and make conversation, right?

“You wouldn’t happen to have any caf on you, would you miss? We’ve been chewing grounds down here since last night.” Had it been last night? Hard to tell when you’re jumping all around space with a permanent starry night just outside the viewport. When he happened to be near a viewport, anyhow.

[member="Kensic Varais"]

 

[Erendiz Kahn]

"Fresh caff!"

Possibly the most joyous words that can be spoken after four days of activity - and lets be clear, the kitchen staff didn't look any better. Even the old... whatever she was, Sergeant who had volunteered to help run the kitchen looked every inch her forty two years, three months and please Force so help her, four days. Because she hadn't slept for any of them either.

If there were plus points for Dizzy, she didn't see them. But she'd fought long enough to know that every single military in the galaxy basically operated on pure caff. And a good cook - a good cook knows the right mixture, the pinch of salt. Spacers lore said a lot of things made good caff.

One thing was absolutely certain, Dizzy made very, very good caff. Even when exhausted. After all, she practically ran on the damn stuff too.

Now, Dizzy Kahn had often been seen as a descending angel - of death or salvation, but it did genuinely warm her heart at the slightly startled looks of joy on the faces of tired mechanics, deck crew, pilots and arriving visitors as she lead two of the other service staff onto the flight deck with as much of the heavenly brew as they could carry. Admittedly, at a well built 5' 11" with an appearance that looked suspiciously like a SpecOps trooper from... well, any branch of service, she didn't look much like either a cook, or an angel. But appearances are deceptive.

"Now, now, calm down. You don't charge to deliver the torps, we don't charge to deliver the caff. Just... form a disorderly mob or something."

Quite what passed for military protocol among any group wasn't fixed yet, so she went with a friendly approach.

 

[Aster Jace]

Chaff had never trained to be a pilot, never even thought of it as an option, but necessity lead him down a different path. Feet hanging out of his cockpit, the man reclined in the orange flightsuit, hands behind his head, quietly dozing off. He'd only just gotten back from his fourth patrol, but in the span of two minutes he'd already fallen into a brief slumber, there was no point in getting out. Images of Thyferra flashed through his mind, of the burning jungles, and people. The man tossed and turned in the cockpit, the R4 unit still in its socket beeping angrily for him to be careful.

He waved off the droid lazily, his eyes failing to even flutter open. [member="Kira Jax"] would make the call for them to be back out in the void soon, and personally the new Black Four had better things to do then deal with his astromech's complaints. The droid had been on him for every little thing from the second he sat down in the cockpit, and as much as Chaff wanted to snap at the small droid, he could hardly blame it.

It's friend had died in the place he now slept mere hours ago, and now he was here as some sort of replacement. Machine or not, he knew that wasn't an experience anyone or anything should have to endure. So he cut the droid some slack, and turned his head to slip back into to sleep. Just a few more minutes, all he needed was a few more minutes.

Then [member="Erendiz Kahn"] made the call for Caf, and his eyes shot open.

 

[Victor Thrash]

"Did someone say caf?" His mandibles flared open, in surprise. He could use about eight cups of caf right now. The crowd was getting larger by the second as tired pilots and techs clamored to get their cup of hot caffeine. The stuff was almost as important as water, no, it was more important than water to most of these pilots. But if there was one thing Galen was good at besides flying, it was being tall and lanky.

"Excuse me, pardon me." His low, rumbly voice passed over the masses as he inched his body closer to the woman holding the golden ticket. He reached out to the tray, his long fingers could feel the cup, almost in his grasp. "Gotcha." His arm lifted high above the crowd as he escaped with his caf.

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Mereel was staring daggers at the bartender.

"What do you mean, 'We don't serve tihaar here' ?"

He had flashbacks to that time he lit a bartender on fire during a senator's party and decided he needed to cool down. He emptied his thoughts and slowed his breathing.

"Sorry. I'll take two Vasarian brandies." Mereel handed the bartender two credit chips. He had found the Capitol Row quite easily after downloading a map of the Solemn Purpose from one of the vessel's consoles.

So far Mereel had only encountered crew members who were on-edge, grumpy, or emotionless. Most of the time they were a combination of all three of these things. He didn't need to open himself to the force to figure out that these people were exhausted. On his quest to feed his addiction, Mereel had had two crewmen falling asleep in turbolifts he had used to get to his current location.

Two mugs being plopped on the counter pulled him out of his thoughts. He took off his helmet and looked the bartender in the eyes. "Thanks ner vod. These help me sleep at night. You might find that downing a pint before bed does wonders for you as well."

The bartender said nothing and looked at him like he was a madman. As the bartender started walking away Mereel flashed him a grin.

He started drinking one of the brandies while pouring another into a flask he kept with him. Once he was done here he was going to try to traverse as much of the ship as possible before Auri recalled him, it was going to be a long day.

 

[Mia Monroe]

Angel’s wandering gaze slid sharply over Synthia and the droid at her heels. Rumour had it, she used to fly for the Empire. So too, had Angel, in a mercenary sense. She’d run with Spector squadron, a mercenary group when the job had come up to help cover the retreat from Thyferra. Somehow in all this mess, she’d wound up with an XO badge she kept in her cockpit and something that looked like a job for life.

She had no judgement to pass, so long as Synthia shot straight, and remained loyal to her squad and wing mate, that was all that mattered to Angel. “If you can call it that, though I think at this point I prefer the term undead. How you holding up, Red? Got any rack time yet?”

She spotted their Captain, Kira caught up in conversation with someone who looked far to fresh in the face to have been her for very long. Was word getting out already? Were supplies coming in? Feth, she hoped so. They needed fuel and food and more able bodies and a good nights rest. Not that the latter would come anytime soon.

"Fresh caff!"

Angel drained her cup, placed her hands together in silent mocking prayer and winked at Synthia, disappearing into the scramble and returning a moment later with four cups, three she'd acquired along the way. She passed one to Synthia before moving to Chaff's ship. "Hey! Flyboy!" She kicked his ladder to make sure he was awake, before holding up the cup for him to take before swinging towards Kira and pressing one silently into a grease stained palm without interrupting her.

[member="Kira Jax"] [member="Synthia Fellstarr"] [member="Chaff"] [member="Auri Vesta"]