Private When the Sky is Starless

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

It felt strange being contracted to do honourable work. Sylvia was accustomed to trifling in the seedy criminal underbelly, where her particular skill-set was utilised for dirty deeds done in the dark, where her influence was corrupted and her reputation was fearsome. But since joining the Confederacy she had had to start over -- people didn't know her here, or what she was capable of, or what she had done. It was both refreshing and infuriating. It was refreshing because there were no expectations. She got to do the job, get paid, and go home. There was no political hoops to jump through or endless stacks paperwork. But it was infuriating because she was treated like everyone else when she wasn't. Sylvia had been one of the elite of the Rebellion, an ace pilot; she had been the best of the best.

She sighed out loud and flopped down into a chair in the corner of the cafeteria, arms crossing over her chest and legs stretched out in front of her. These people - the CIS - hadn't done anything wrong. In fact, they had been quite welcoming. It was difficult to not like them. The hiss of the doors caught her attention, and she whipped around to see who it was only to be disappointed when it was one of the other pilots returning from a flight. With a groan she stood, paced across the room, and poured a cup of caf to pass the time. She was meant to be meeting someone, a man named Var.

The name was enough to bring back memories that were both pleasant and heartbreaking. Sylvia knew that it couldn't be the same Var. He was still locked away in that supermax prison. But hearing his name, and remembering him, just thinking about him, had her on edge. No, it wasn't him.

She sipped at the caf, enjoying the warmth, and pushed all thoughts of him from her mind and focused instead on the mission. Retrieval. They were being sent of to collect and retrieve something that was that was dangerous, and exciting. She felt like she could breath again heading on this mission. But something about it made her uneasy. Call it a gut instinct, PTSD, Sylvia being Sylvia, but something didn't feel right to her. At the end of the day she hadn't argued or made demands.

What was the worst that could happen?

 

[Var Talon]

MESS HALL

Another day, another mission.

Ever since the Cataclysm wreaked havoc on their numbers, each Obsidian Knight found themselves pulling double duty. Before everything went to Hell - literally - Var had the leisure of days off. Oh, how he had taken them for granted. As now? Now his only time off were the hours spent traveling from sortie to sortie. The longer the hyperspace dive, the longer he got to kick his boots up. Now, don't color him ungrateful mind. The credits were good and he was paying his debt to society with every job finished. But like any soul being run ragged, Var Talon was feeling it. The fatigue settled into his bones, soured his mood, and made him impatient more than anything.

But, he'd take the job without complaint. If not him, then who was there left, right?

Today, the job description was retrieval. Something nasty and teeming with bad juju had gotten in the wrong hands. And he had to see whatever the feth it was safely locked up inside the Vault. But, there was a kicker. One couldn't just roll up to this locale with ease. No sir. Asteroid belt. The sort that droids are programmed to avoid and hyperdrives circumvent. He needed a pilot worth a damn to see the job done - and that brought him to the Mess Hall. His datapad read Silvia. Boy, was that a name that brought back memories. A rare smirk broke through the glum at the thought.

The doors slid open and the Echani strode confidently into the mess hall. He paused before one of the lines, procuring a carton of orange juice before sweeping the room. There were a lot of pilots, but fortunately all had their unit patch displayed somewhere. It was their calling card - just like how Var had his iconic bomber jacket. He wore it, even now, on every occasion. Even when it drew strange looks from his Obsidian peers. His jacket, like a unit patch, told a part of his story at a glance. In particular, it was a relic from the day it all went to chit. From the night he was locked away and the key thrown away.

The original owner of the jacket, his best friend, died that night. But he lived on in every breath Var took.

Speaking of the past, his gaze settled upon the unit patch of the hour and he approached. "Hey there, I'm Va-" he began, before taking in her features. He blinked.

"...Syl?"​

Sylvia Alvaro

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

The world appeared to stop moving when his voice resonated in her ears, froze over and shattered as she turned to see him; Var Talon - in the flesh. Her lungs burned with a harsh demand for air and she couldn't remember at what point she'd stopped breathing. Icicles shot through her veins as her vision narrowed on him, green eyes clashing with his silver ones, until he was all that she saw. Her eyes widened slightly with surprise, and then narrowed with anger. When had he gotten out? She'd thought he was still locked away.

Had he even bothered to look for her, to tell her, to warn her he was with the CIS; did he even care? The words playing on the tip of her tongue turned to ash in her mouth as every fibre of her being screamed, as her heart fought with her logic.

Sylvia wanted to slap him, to throw him against the nearest wall and wring his neck. She wanted to fall into his arms and hold him, to be certain he wasn't part of an almost forgotten dream. A dozen memories came rushing to the surface, playing in her mind relentlessly; restless nights, deep conversations, how he had started to worm his way past her defences. Everything ended with his imprisonment and it left a dark mark. Sylvia hadn't imagined they'd get married, or have babies, and she had never told him she loved him, no, that was too strong of a word. Var was special - had been special.

Var was a good man. Had been good to her. And after everything she'd been through, all of the trauma, she wanted something good, deserved something good. But looking at him now she felt betrayed and used. He'd not even bothered to tell her he was out. Sylvia blinked away the conflicting emotions, steeled herself against them until all that remained was a cold stare.

"No." Her voice was stern, the word spoken angrily as she all but threw the cup onto the table. The sound of it shattering, and the shards hitting the floor, bought silence to the room. "This is not going to happen. We are not doing this."

The wide-eyed reunion, the drown-out explanations, the figuring out where they stood, and how they moved forward - she wouldn't do it. Not now. Not with him. The thump of her boots was loud as she stormed passed him, her shoulder catching him as she put her weight behind it. She didn't care that he might have questions, that he might have been as frazzled as she was. All that she cared about was she couldn't stay there. No, she was going to her superiors and demand another partner.

 

[Var Talon]

MESS HALL

The world didn't make any sense.

When everything had fallen to chit that night, the Echani realized just how toxic he had been. He had been raised better. He had been given everything. Var grew up as the sole male in a semi-noble, Echani family. He had everything he could ever ask for. A great education. Money. His pick of eligible bacherolettes if he so chose. Yet, with that reality came a heap of responsibility that he just didn't want. He was selfish and chose to run in the opposite direction. He was self-centered and chose to find solace in a life of violence and crime.

Along the way, were there good times? Absolutely. That's how he met his best friend. That's how he assembled his crew. Hell, that's how he met Sylvia. The friend of a friend. The getaway pilot. One of the fastest and best in the Galaxy. She erred on the side of the good guys nine times out of ten. But during those ones, she had always managed to pull them out of the fire. Hell, pulling him out of the inferno was how they had gotten sweet to begin with. They weren't star-crossed lovers or anything from a holoflick. But to the crew, it was obvious where their eyes belonged. To Var? He had eyes for her. That was it. Simple. Sweet. To the point.

But then things went buck wild, and Var realized that he was going to get her killed. And as the world collapsed around him, as his best friend laid dead on the dirt, he told her to go. Not just to run, not just to save herself, but to leave him behind. Physically. Emotionally. All of it. He was a ball and chain that was going to bring her into an early grave. He recognized it then, and hoped that she listened. Hoped that she moved on in her life. Never in a million years did he imagine that her escape would lead her to standing inside that very same mess hall, the day that he needed an ace pilot.

No. This is not going to happen. We are not doing this.

Her reaction was exactly warranted. She stormed past, shoving her shoulder into his as she did. The Echani was practically dumbfounded, mouth wide as she approached. Yet, the impact snapped him back to reality. He turned on his heel and reached, just quick enough to catch her wrist. "Syl, please. Wait." he began. "Chit like this is killing us."

"I know I have a whole heap of chit to answer for. And that I am the last face you want to see right now. And I will spend the rest of my life answering for everything. I swear it. But right now, this mission? There's something evil out there. And I have to make sure it doesn't hurt anyone. I need you. You're the best. Please."

"Pull me outta the fire, just one last time."

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

His fingers encircling her wrist were strong, and warm, and reminded her of how he'd held her once upon a time. She remembered it all; the smell of his cologne, how his face felt cradled in her hands, how infectious his laugh was, how his smile lit up the room. Sylvia wanted to forget. She wanted to recoil from his touch instead of being drawn in by it. She wanted to hate the time they'd spent together, the memories they'd made. But she was frozen: forced to listen to him speak. His words upset her for a dozen different reasons, and she had to close her eyes to hide it.

"How dare you." The words came softly and were the only warning before she'd snapped back around, yanking herself from his grasp and bringing the opposite hand across his face. The impact was enough to leave her palm tinged red and stinging. Sylvia imagined he'd feel it too, hoped he felt the sting, hoped it hurt. There was a shock value in slapping him, a certain satisfaction.

Sylvia dropped her hand down and balled her fingers into a fist so he wouldn't see the them shaking, so that he wouldn't know he'd gotten to her. How dare he. He had no right to ask her to pull him from the fire again. Not after what he had done. How he'd ended it. Sylvia glared at him, teeth biting the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling. She wanted to. She wanted to scream at him until her throat was hoarse. She wanted to turn away and leave, just like he'd made her leave.

But he knew her. And he knew what to say to make her stay. Var remembered she'd been one of the good guys; the one willing to take on the dangerous missions, the suicide missions so others didn't have to. He knew her and she hated it. "This is how it's going to work." She huffed, speaking to him as though she was speaking to a squad-mate and not an ex. To someone that wasn't special and wasn't turning her inside out. "We're not going talk about it. Any of it. Your explanations, yours answers, I don't want them." Nothing he could say would sooth the sting of what had happened. Sylvia hadn't forgotten it and she hadn't forgiven him.

The events of that day were burned in her memory. It had gone to hell so quickly. Not a damn thing had gone to plan; instead it had gone from bad to worse and the world came crashing down around them. His best friend had died, was still laying in the dirt, and Var was hurting, He was broken. But she'd been there too. She'd seen it, felt the shock of it, the pain of it.

And she wanted to be there for him.

And he had told her to go.

There wasn't room for arguments, no chance to stay. He'd told her to go and she had. She'd left him. And she'd let them take him, and she'd let him take the blame, and she'd hated herself every day for two god-damn years, just like she hated him for making her go. "This is a mission. I am the pilot. And you are the muscle. This is not me pulling your ass out of the fire. We're going to get whatever the hell is causing this mess, we're going to get the hell out of dodge. That's it. Nothing more. End of story."

 

[Var Talon]

MESS HALL

How dare you.

The Echani parted his lips, as if to attempt to find the words to say. His mind raced a mile a minute. Part of him, a very small part which was buried deep and forgotten - was ecstatic. Just seeing "little miss Rebel" made him recall moments that were far brighter. Moments that were born of his own rebellious decisions - but just so happened to be far sweeter than his upbringing. Evenings where the crew had all been gathered around a campfire, celebrating a heist well done. Or feet kicked up in a nightclub somewhere, getting sauced before sneaking off to misbehave.

And though there were memories aplenty, and fondness rekindled, Var was at a loss for words. The cold slap of reality helped to ground him. Helped to shove the past back into the closet where it had resided for years. The fact of the matter was - Sylvia had listened to him. He had gotten his best friend killed. His mistakes had soiled his hands with blood. He was toxic and he saved her from being dragged down with him. The Echani earnestly believed that she had come to that understanding. After all, she never looked for him - and he didn't make it difficult to find him. Not for someone who knew where to look.

But, here they were. Standing in a mess hall making a scene. The slap. The seething words. Sylvia didn't want to leave then, and she hadn't forgotten now. Var understood. But fortunately enough, she agreed to help on the mission. Albeit, this was no closure trip. In silence, he listened to her make demands on how the mission was going to go. To which he simply raised his hands. She'd recognize the phrase which came next, as he said it to her jokingly all the time. "You're the boss."

He then lowered his hands and folded his arms momentarily. "End of story." he echoed, offering a nod of affirmation. His nostrils flared as he exhaled slightly and motioned towards the door. She'd lead, he'd follow, and in short order they were briskly headed towards the hangar. At first, the walk was in silence. For what else was there truly to say. But, Var broke the silence with pure business. After all, she didn't want to hear anything but that. "Are you familiar with the Cataclysm?" he asked, referring to the chitstorm that nearly killed the Knights only months' prior.

He'd pause, long enough to receive her reply before continuing. "Long story short, we've received intel that something related to the literal Hell we dealt with that day is in the wrong hands. Best case scenario, they have no clue how to use it and nothing happens. Worst case? We're dead. All of us. Me. You. All of it." She'd know the rest from the briefings. Fly through the asteroids, get to the secure station, muscle in, get out. Done.

Once within the hangar, he lingered at the door. She didn't want to hear any of it, but, he was a stubborn nerf herder at times. "I just...need to know one thing. And I swear, I won't ask or bring this chit up again. Did you make it out okay?"

Because if she hadn't, all of it would have been for nothing.​

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

Sylvia rolled her eyes when he bought his hands up and called her the boss - it was all she could do not to smile. Var use to do it all the time. When they were on missions, dodging enemy fighters and asteroids, he'd say it. When they were in some bar and she'd demand one of the crew dance with her, he'd say it then. He would call her the boss and they would all laugh, and they would all drink into the early hours of the morning before stumbling out the door and into whatever trouble they could find. It had been so much easier then, simpler. But now? Now it felt complicated, and messy.

“No. I don’t.” Her reply was to the point, no mincing of words as they walked. Sylvia wasn't aware of what exactly had happened that day. Sure, she'd heard rumours, whispers in the halls from the other pilots about how it had gone to literal hell. But she wasn't involved, and hadn't been with the CIS when it happened so didn't concerned herself with the ins and outs of that day, only the ramifications. Long story short, as he said, some bad chit had gotten into the galaxy and was starting to fall into the wrong hands so the clean-up crews were being sent out. That's where she came in.

Get in - get it - get out.

Sylvia didn't need to know more than that. Was it a suicide mission? Probably. Had she gotten them out of worse situations? Absolutely. So she wasn't worried about the danger of the mission, or that they might not make it home this time. She was worried about doing it with Var, and what it might stir between them. Being near him confused her - it was turning her inside out. Sylvia was still mad at him, angry and hurt, but there was a part of her, buried somewhere beneath the surface, that was thrilled seeing him again, that he was alive and seemingly unchanged.

In the hanger she moved through the pre-flight check-list robotically, like it was second nature, moving around the HWK-290 to visually check the hull integrity before moving inside. It was as she was flicking switches, checking the engines and the shields that he spoke again - because of course he couldn't leave well enough alone. He had a lot of audacity to ask that question - to think he had the right to even ask.

Var would see the change in her expression, how it twisted, how her eyes closed. He would see her swallow the lump in her throat, as though pushing all the emotions back down, so deep that he wouldn't be able to see them or touch them. There were a dozen things she could say to him. But how was she meant to tell him that she had cried herself to sleep the night he'd told her to go; or that for the first month she drank herself into a stupor just so she wouldn't see Larsa's face every time she closed her eyes? How was she meant to tell him there was a draw in her bedroom filled with schematics, and notes, and observations about the prison because she was going to rescue him?

There was no way in hell to tell him that she wanted to find him, that she wanted to bring him home to her, but had been too frightened to do it. What if she went through all of that to get him back, and he told her to go again? What if she got him out, rescued him, saved him, and he still didn't want her? It was that fear that kept her away, that cut her up. And she couldn't tell him any of this. Sylvia sighed softly and sat in the pilots seat, not looking at him as she started to power up the engines. “Yeah. I got out fine.”

Except she hadn’t. This events of that day still haunted her, and even two years later she remembered it all perfectly. The world going to chit around them, the tears running down her face, Larsa's dead on the ground, the authorities closing in, the smell in the air, the taste of her tears, that gut-wrenching feeling that tore through her.

She'd never forget.

And she wasn’t okay.

"Hurry up and sit down. We've already got clearance to take off." Everything for this mission had been fast tracked; from the pilot and the muscle, to the ship and the clearance. It was all green lights and she was glad for that. It meant less time they needed to sit in the hanger waiting, just the two of them alone with their past.

 

[Var Talon]

HANGAR

No. I don't.

The response was practically frigid - and frankly, Var had anticipated as much. It wasn't that Sylvia didn't care about her fellow countryman. Far from it. If there was one thing that Var knew she understood, it was loyalty to one's people - one's crew. However, given the current circumstances, he was not surprised that she was not exactly the most empathetic in tone. Why? Because she had just slapped the taste out of his mouth a mere moment ago. The mission was going to proceed, yes, but that didn't mean that things were going to be any less awkward while they worked.

In any case, Var knew that the flight portion of the mission was in good hands. Sylvia had pulled him out of the fire many times. If it had an engine and a flight stick, she could make magic happen. As for him? He had come quite a long ways since that fateful evening. At least in terms of being useful when things went to chit. He wasn't just good with his trigger finger anymore. A reality she once pushed him to be. Sylvia had always wanted him to do more. Now he had. He didn't spare a thought as to how it all must make her feel. He couldn't. Not when there was this much at stake.

He did cave to his curiosity and asked the question. One that needed answering for his own sanity. And he could see it all on her face. The pain. The restraint. The lie. All of it was as clear as day. That was one thing Sylvia was terrible at when it came to him. Lying. When it came to birthday surprises, fibbing about who ate the last slice of pie, or anything really. Var could see through her bullchit like it was glass. And right now, she was crystal clear. She had made it out - alive. But okay was a different story.

That cut him up inside. His head momentarily lowered, as if burdened by the guilt. But he sucked it up. Sylvia quickly set about checking her vessel for takeoff. She was thorough - that much never changed, and Var followed her aboard. She was quick to tell him to sit down, which he did wordlessly. Clearance had been provided to takeoff, and he didn't speak again until the vessel had thundered off into the void of space. Once motion hit him - once the blur of stars from hyperspace filled the view of the main glass - he rose from his seat.

"Intel says they're in some sort of asteroid base." he began, breaking the silence. "Once we're landed, I'm cutting through until the object is mine. If it goes to chit..." He trailed off. The Echani was almost about to tell her to haul ass and get backup. To leave him and to save herself. But how could he do that twice? After everything. "...if it goes to chit, follow your gut."

Exhale.

"Shouldn't be long now. Any questions before I get started?"​

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

Had it been another day, or another time, the motions of space flight would be soothing. The rumble of the ships framework, the sound of its engines roaring to life, the jerk as it jumped into light speed. These sensations were familiar, and were something she knew to expect, something she could control. But today it was different. The ship felt like a prison, and the thought of being trapped with him for the next several hours made her restless. Sylvia was hyper-aware of him: where he was, the sound of his voice, the jacket he was wearing, of how much she wanted to both kill him and hold him. The Echani was a catalyst that sent her memories sky-rocketing to the past, to that day, and that moment, each time she caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye.

Sylvia hadn't thought about the crew or the good old days in a long time, and had purposely stopped going to their haunts, had sold the ship she'd flown them around in, had even left the Rebellion, because being remind of Var was too painful. She had done so much to move on: had left it all in the past. It hadn't been easy, and it hadn't been what she wanted. But she'd done it because he hadn' given her a choice. And now that she had moved on and found herself again, now that she had rediscovered her love of flying, and remembered what it was to be happy, he had reappeared and those wounds had been torn wide-open, as though they'd never healed in the first place. And she was reminded that there had never been closure.

As the glass filled with streaking stars, and he spoke she had almost turned to slap him again. Var caught the words before he said them but Sylvia knew what he was going to say. He wanted to tell her to run for the hills if the world crashed around them. He wanted to protect her from that horror. But that wasn't his decision to make. "You don’t get to tell me what to do any more." The words came with a flippant disregard for his feelings and the protocol of the mission. He had no right to ask anything of her, or to make demands. He had a lot of freaking audacity to imply she leave him again.

She stared at him, the world once again melting from her vision until he was all that remained. There was a notion to apologise. Sylvia recognised that she was being difficult, and that she was making the mission harder then it had to be. But she couldn't find it in herself to do it, not after what had happened, not after what he had done. "I, um... when did you..." There was a thousand questions she wanted to ask him. A thousand things she wanted him to say. But the words would not come out. Her jaw clenched to fight the emotions threatening to choke her. Part of her wanted to know, was desperate for the truth, and the other part of her didn't, was afraid of what he would say. She was at war with herself because of him and hated it.

"No." There was a tremor in her voice, faint, hardly noticeable, but it was there. "There's nothing else." And with that she turned away from him, letting the field of stars fill her vision, to take the place of him. She wouldn't ask him, couldn't ask him. Her stubborn pride, her fear, none of these would allow her to be the kind of woman that broke down, the kind that begged for closure, the kind that wanted someone who clearly did not want her. She sighed deeply and pushed a few buttons, making it look like her attention was not on him when it was. "It should only be an hour or so until we get there. I can page you when we're approaching. Or you can wait in here. I don't care."

 

[Var Talon]

HYPERSPACE

The blur of stars.

That had used to be their time. Back when things weren't so upside down and fethed sideways. When the crew were all so drunk that they passed out upon getting aboard. When the days were short and the nights were long. Diving into Hyperspace was the time that Var and Syl could just...be. There were many a trip spent curled up within the captain's seat - boots up against the console whilst they chatted the hours away. Laughing. Grinning. Those were the days. And they were long since gone. Now? There was winter. Cold. Hurt. So much so that, when the Echani fixed his mouth to almost suggest that she leave him if things went to hell, she wheeled about in her seat.

He anticipated another slap. Hell, he could tell she wanted to give him one. But instead, frost fell from her lips. Each syllable was an icy dagger, and they left him silent for a moment. Var simply asked if she had any questions before they got started. And frankly, he knew she did. The indecision which stammered from her lips said as much. when did you... she began to ask. Quiet. Her voice tremored - something that never happened. But she turned away. The pain had rendered her stubborn he figured.

The Echani simply ran his hand through her hair. I can page you when we're approaching. Or you can wait in here. I don't care.

He wanted to believe her. That'd make things easier. But he knew. Hell, she knew. They cared. And that's why his face still stung from the first slap. Wordlessly, he arose from the seat. Part of him wanted to slump right back down, stubbornly, and figure things out. To burn that hour answering for that time behind bars, and those years after. But, right now...he couldn't. There was too much at stake. The past would have to wait. Or, worst case scenario, stay buried. "Page me, please." he said, emphasizing that he wasn't telling her what to do. His hands slid into his pockets - Larsa's pockets - and he strode into the back.

Once the door slid closed behind him, his form leaned against the wall. And slumped. Descent gripped him until he was sitting down, one knee up, one leg flat. Dejected. He had to get a grip. Had to get it together. Gods only knew what sort of hell was waiting for him in an hour. And he couldn't fight like this. "Dammit all..." He groaned, before burying his face in his hands.

Dammit all indeed.​

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

Sylvia hoped his departure from the cockpit would offer a moments reprieve. Maybe some distance between them, a couple of walls, a few hundred miles, would be enough to calm her down, and make it so she could think clearly. But it didn't help. It just made her feel that much worse. Why? Because she wanted to follow him; to yell at him, to hug him, to be near him because she had missed him so damn much. Those nights when it was just the two of them tangled in sheets, talking and laughing, existing in the moment and not wondering about the future, or agonising over the past? She'd loved nights like that. When it was just the two of them, together and happy. And she loved the days that followed when the crew would jet-set on another adventure like it was the norm.

There were days when the pilot would insist on tagging along; days when she was frustrated and looking for something to shoot. Most days she'd stay with the ship, her pride and joy, and tease them over the comms, or offer whatever Intel the sensors could pick up. One thing that never changed was the departure; Sylvia would kiss him every time he walked down that ramp, like it was a beautiful goodbye. She would kiss him like it was the last time they would ever see each other. Except... she'd never in a million years imagined that day it would be the last time.

If she'd known... she would have fought harder, hugged him tighter, kissed him deeper.

Her fist punched the console hard enough to bruise knuckles, the pain not enough to silence her confliction, and she slumped forward, resting her head on the controls as tears glistened in her eyes. She hated feeling like this; conflicted, and emotional, childish and ridiculous. It shouldn't have been so hard to talk to him - it never used to be. Sylvia had never been a woman who was afraid of speaking her mind, or asking the difficult questions. Until now. She had out-flown a dozen Tie Fighters; had fought her way off of a back-water jungle planet; had been the god-damn Rogue Commander. This - talking to him - should have been fricking easy.

"Damn it, pull yourself together. You're stronger than this. You will not cry because of him again." She chastised herself. And with only the stars there to keep her company, she sat up and brushed the tears from her eyes.

- ETA TO ASTEROID FIFTEEN MINUTES -

A robotic voice announced throughout the ship. Inside the cockpit the scanners were beeping to announce the incoming destination. Her fingers skimmed over the controls with practised precision as she went through the check-list: the scanners were silenced, and the shields were set to the full-strength. The hull integrity looked good, and the limited weapons were at the ready. With a finger Sylvie flicked open the comms. "You heard the ship. ETA is fifteen minutes. Make sure you're locked and loaded, and strapped into a seat before we drop out of light speed."

She didn't know what he was doing at that particular moment but had a pretty good idea. Just like she had pre-flight check-lists, he had pre-fight check-lists. Var had these habits; quirks that were unique to him. And she hadn’t forgotten them. It didn't matter how much time has passed - habits were hard to break. He was probably going through the plan in his head; his way it, his way out, who he was going to fight, who he was going to have to kill.

Truth be told, there was no one else Sylvia trusted more than Var to get this mission done. He had always been a force to be reckoned with. And he always saw the job through to the end; no matter what. And knowing that made her all the more uncomfortable. There was a familiar feeling going through her - this moment, the uncertainty that awaited them, the endless opportunities for something to go wrong - seemed to be a mirror image of last time, their last time together.

Everything had been going according to plan... until it wasn’t.

And then Larsa had died, and Var had been locked up... and everything had fallen apart. Not just them but the crew as well. Her world had been rocked to the core. There was no salvaging it after that day. "I don't know what hell we're about to fly into... but Var?" Her voice was soft over the comms; her throat dry and the words stuck in her throat. There was so much she wanted to say to him but right now there was only one thing that came to the surface.

"I will drag your ass back to this ship before I leave you again. Got it?"

It was how it should have happened the first time.

She should never have left him.

 

[Var Talon]

HYPERSPACE

It took a few moments to settle the storm.

As much as the Echani lived contrary to the demands of his lineage, there were some habits that died hard. For example, when plagued with emotion, his kin were known to calm and quiet themselves. Retreating into the sanctuary of their own meditations to ready themselves for what came. Some, like his eldest sibling, existed in this constant state of focus. Others, like himself, had to concentrate to achieve such balance. Var, frankly, did not dive into the deep often - but given the circumstances, it was necessary. There was not much time between now and facing down the Hell of the mission. And now was not the time to be hung up on the past. There were too many lives at stake.

Thus, he removed his face from his hands and swallowed a breath. His breathing slowed. He focused on the moment...

A robotic voice roused the Echani from his meditation.

Ascension gripped him thus and he rolled his shoulders. For now, he was focused. Enough so that he could do the job and not get them both killed. Immediately thereafter, Sylvia's voice sounded over the comm. She advised him to make sure he was ready and strapped in for when the ship reverted to realspace. Wordlessly, he strided over to one of the benches and did just that. He then turned, facing the speaker. "Roger that." he said. She'd recognize his tone as being part of that "pre-fight" checklist. For the louder missions, he had his quirks. Hated to do them, but they came in handy.

It was the pause that threatened to break his efforts. And the subsequent words. He blinked, feeling heat flood to his cheeks. Ah, there was so much he wanted to say - and the dam of his Focus was only so high. He swallowed hard and exhaled. "I will make sure it doesn't come to that." he answered. Which was the best he could muster given the circumstances. He was content to sit in relative quiet until thunderous vibrations erupted under his feet. The vessel lurched, reverting into realspace as anticipated. At this instant, he settled his helm over his features and drew a breath from the oxygen tank. Asteroids were notorious for their thin atmospheres, and thus he had to take every precaution.

Soon, the sound of anti-air cannons began to erupt outside of the hull. They were coming under fire from the base's defenses - and Var knew he was in the Galaxy's best hands. They had done a hot drop before, where she let him off while still in motion, and anticpated that would be the case today. He unstrapped and jogged to the ramp, grasping the rail in anticipation. "I'm ready to drop!" he called over the comm.

It took all of his restraint not to say he'd come running back to her.​

@Sylvia Alaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

His response was not the one Sylvia wanted to hear but it was the one she expected. She wanted to hear him laugh out loud, to tease her because that was what he used to do whenever she was feisty like that. But they weren't lovers any more. At the moment she wasn't even certain they were friends. And their focus couldn't be on the past, or even on the future. It had to be on the here and now. So, she was glad there was a mission to focus on. Yet... there was a coil of anxiety worming its way through her body, constricting her heart, reminding her what happened the last time she'd dropped him into a war-zone. As much as Sylvia didn't want to remember - she did.

That day was the last memory she had of him, it was the end of their relationship. And it was the most prominent thing in her mind at that exact moment. Var would be okay though. If there was one man that could walk through hell and survive, it was Var Talon. He'd be okay. He had to be. If it wasn't... the consequences would be worse then just her hurt feelings. People would die... and that just wasn't going to happen with the two of them on duty together. The ship shuttered as it dropped into realspace, and her hold on the controls tightened.

There was a moment when it appeared like their entrance would be smooth, and without issues. But it was the calm before the storm. There was always a calm. And then the ship rocked wildly, this time from the anti-air cannons. The impact slammed into the side of the ship, making the hull creak and groan, Sylvia took a quick second to check the shields to make sure they held and to figure out where the cannon fire was coming from, and then pushed into a dive to avoid the next shot, moving fast to the drop off.

"We're coming in hot so you better hit the ground running." She replied back, her own voice even. They'd done this before. Hot drops. She'd knew what to do. He knew what to do. And she knew how those few seconds right before the drop off would happen. Three. The ramp would open. Two. The ship would shudder again. One. He would jump.

 

[Var Talon]

One.

Despite the lurch of the vessel from the defensive fire, the Echani raced forward out of the cargo bay. Hesitation was how one got killed - and there was not to be found within the Knight. With his Focus firmly upon the objective, his boots thundered onto the earth only a breath after. Immediately, he commanded the Force. A tremendous sheet of metal was pried from the nearest autonomous defense cannon - rendering it useless with a neat series of booms. The Echani wielded the remains as a weapon, hurling the debris at the second. The end result would be clearing Sylvia a clear way out - and a clear path back when the job was finished.

"I'll give the signal soon." came his voice through the comm. And then he was off, lightsaber drawn, into the asteroid. He kept the connection live, in case he needed to call for an early exfiltration. But beyond this, it was like old times again. There had been so many ops where she'd listen to the fighting. Figuring out, without him so much as saying a word, when and where she was needed. When pinned down, she'd come swooping in with a strafe. When it was time to get outta dodge, the ship was often ready and waiting. Always, she was his angel on the battlefield.

And despite how complicated the present was, he knew he could rely on her.

The seconds rolled into minutes whilest the Echani rampaged across the station. By Force and by Blade, he cut a path through and would not be denied. Sylvia wouldn't have to wait too long for the call to return - "Package secured, heading back!" he roared over the blaster fire. She'd spy him sprinting out of the way he came, energy weapons firing in vain after him.

All that was left was the jump.

He trusted her to be there waiting when he landed.

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

There was an unease that wormed through her veins the moment after he jumped, and that feeling always ate her up inside. It was from the unpredictability of their missions, the uncertainty and the unknown, how everything could go from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. Sylvia both hated it and loved it. Var left the comm line open and she heard everything, the sound of his boots touching down, the gunfire, the shearing, snapping metal as he decimated the first canon, and then the second. There were some days when she needed to hear it all because she needed to hear to know where he needed her. Other days she couldn't stand it and would be the one to turn them off.

At the end of the day she could folly down a hail of gunfire to help but other then that there was little to be done from the ship. It was why some days she insisted on going with him and Larsa and the crew instead of staying behind. She could help more if she was with them. But her feelings didn't matter in that moment. Only Var mattered, and making sure he got through and found the objective. They worked well together - a cohesive unit, sweeping through the sky, trailblazing the ground; leaving behind them, not necessarily destruction, but a job well done.

And then after only a few minutes there is was.

"Package secured, heading back!"

And she was moving again, knowing exactly where he would be. As she got closer the ramp dropped, and was ready to catch him when he jumped. It was methodical, the way the ship moved, how it dipped. Her fingers jerked the stick to keep it levelled but the beeping of the scanners took her attention for just a second. Little blips closing in, fast. Shit. "Var!" She said. "There's a bogey on the scanner. Jump and brace because the second you touch down, I'm moving." There wasn't room to land, to get him on board safely, to kiss him one last time.

The ship was a sitting duck. A perfect god-damn target.

But she wouldn't leave him again.

 

[Var Talon]

ASTEROID

The Echani was in full sprint.

As the chime of her voice sounded in his ear, the heart and instinct collided. His heart skipped a beat in concern. He wanted to tell her to duck out of the way of the bogey. To reposition. To leave if necessary as to avoid harm. She was the best in the business - he knew that there was a possibility she could pull it off and get back to him easily enough. But instinct roared otherwise. The package was in hand, they had to take the shot. Had to. Every second spent waiting for her to reposition would be time for the enemy to catch up.

And if he fell in that time, trillions would be at risk.

Instinct, ultimately, won out. Var kept his feet moving as quickly as they would bear him. And just like always, Syl was right where he needed her. The vessel's rear ramp was extended and waiting to make the catch. He took one last step and launched himself skyward. And that's when he saw it - the flare of a missile being launched. The vessel was hefty - it could take a pounding and still fly. Hell, it had done so in the past if memory served. But impact was still impact. Var closed his eyes.

KABOOM!!

His form thundered and skidded inside the vessel in the nick of time. He was shielded from the impact by the skin of his teeth - but the vessel itself had been hit. "I'm on - PUNCH IT!" he yelled. Forcing himself to his knees, the Echani quickly dove forward and hit the ramp's closure button. Sparks flew as a response - but the ramp managed to jolt, shudder, and slide back into place. At least they wouldn't have to worry about oxygen now.

As for the ship itself - it could still fly. But the hyperdrive was borked. They could jump - sure - but if they made it was the question. Var had no clue that this was the case, for he found himself struggling to draw breath. Upon looking down, he noticed a rather jarring sight. Crimson spilling through his top. "Feth." he croaked.

His offhand clutched against his abdomin whilst his dominant held onto the package. It all rested in Sylvia's hands now. She had to pull them out of the fire.​

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Sylvia Alvaro]

wearing: xXx
tag: Var Talon

It felt like a lifetime.

The ship's sensor was beeping at an increasing pace as the bogey came closer, her heart beating in time with it as she watched and waited, helpless to do anything else. There was a moment where she thought he wouldn't make it. Her fingers were gripping the controls so tightly that they hurt as she fought every instinct that told her to get the hell out of dodge, to leave him behind. She couldn't leave him, not again. So the heart won over the head and she stayed... even if that meant she might die.

Her eyes closed when the missile hit the ship. The belt caught her body when the force of the impact threatened to send her sailing across the cockpit and then his voice was yelling over the comms and suddenly she could breathe again.

"I'm on - PUNCH IT!"

And she did.

There was no hesitation but there was a problem. The hyperdrive was done for it. It had maybe, and that was a big maybe, one jump left. Sylvia didn't want to risk it. She wanted to find somewhere safe to drift through space and run to him. To throw her arms around him and tumble to the floor in a tangle of limbs, to kiss him like it was their last night alive. But that wasn't an option.

The enemy already had ships in the air, tailing them, hellbent on getting that package back. They had to risk a jump. If she had have known his state... that he was practically bleeding out in the cargo hold... she might have chosen differently.

The entire ship shuddered as it made the jump into hyperspace but it was short-lived. All of the scanners and sensors were out of control, beeping, crackling with static and illegible warnings. They'd only made it a few hundred clicks when the ship unexpectedly dropped back into realspace. And from that moment everything went from bad to worse.

The ship dropped out too close to a planet, caught almost instantly in the gravitation of the world and sucked in. Alarms were blaring through the halls, the cockpit, the cargo hold as the engines started to fail, spluttering, struggling. They got caught in a tailspin, the atmosphere of the planet pulling them down. Her heart was thundering in her chest like a jackhammer as the realization hit her like a tonne of bricks. She couldn't pull them out of the spin in time - they were going to crash. Chit. Chit. Chit. Resigned to their fate she began diverting power from the engines to the shields in the hopes that there was a small possibility they would survive the landing.

"Var!" There was real panic in her voice. "Hold on to something!"

The belt caught her body as the impact of their descent threatened to throw her forward. She slammed back against the seat, her head finding something hard and knocking her wonky. Somehow she was still in the seat, holding onto the controls for dear life, trying in vain to steer them toward a safe place to make an emergency landing. She saw it all. The clouds that they dove through, the landscape spinning around in greens and blues and browns. Then she saw the rise of trees, a canopy of leaves as they came closer and closer to the ground.

She couldn't believe this was happening again...

Once had been enough.

Memories of the last crash flickered through her mind: Dresdin, Jenha, Maud, the explosion, that monster. The images lingered in her mind as they hit the ground. The shields held until that moment but were devastated by the impact. They hit the ground hard, the steel of the ships frame bending and snapping under its own weight. She was thrown forward before the belt could catch her and hit the control console hard, blood free-flowing from a nasty gash on her forehead, a rib or two or three cracking, and she fell back into the seat.

Sylvia saw stars.

And then nothing.