Ask First in Flight

[Corran Velt]

A YT-1300 drifted slowly through vacant space in the very outskirts of the Corellian system; far from any traffic ways or stations. Red outlines raced along the edges of the ship, before meeting at the tip of the nose pod at the fore. It was an odd amalgamation of brand new and rustic old. There was no question that it was a ship that had been kept alive, well past its prime, but a series of careful and respectful owners. Corran was the latest in this line of captains and he had been resolute in keeping up with the routine maintenance as stated in the Crimson Venture's user manual. Parts were replaced at the recommended scheduled times. Fluids were flushed and refilled. Computer programs debugged and reset. Anything less would invite a dysfunctional hyperdrive, a blown ion engine, or worse. An experienced mechanic with the right parts could keep the freighter running for a long time.

Unfortunately, Corran was not an experienced ship mechanic and lacked the funds to pay for all the routine maintenance he was determined to keep up with. It often came down to either paying for the best part possible and installing it himself or paying for a mechanic to install an after-market, sub-standard part. This round of adjustments and updates were the former, not the latter. In such a situation, the ship's manual recommended a run through all simple mechanisms - from sub-light speed acceleration to a hyperspace jump. If anything went wrong, the pilot or crew would then run through the checklist of replaced components to discover where they went wrong and correct the issue. The manual also recommended at least one additional crew member or co-pilot be present in case of emergencies.

That's why Bast Emblai had been invited to take part in the exercise. It had taken nearly a week for Corran to work up the courage to ask his partner to help. It would be the first thing they've done together outside of Ranger duty. No badges. No mission. Just two... friends; one helping the other out. Despite the anxious hesitation, Corran had no doubts that the Corellian woman was the best option. She had flying experience of her own, knew the Corellian system, and even piloted a similar freighter. Not only did she meet pragmatic measures, but also personal ones. Bast had excellent communication with the young man and he trusted her completely. Plus he felt like she might actually sacrifice her limited and precious free time to help. Corran wasn't certain she would say yes, but he hoped she would.

The blond youth was enveloped by a New Republic-style flight suit - another safety measure recommended by the ship's manual for this type of test run. Should an issue suddenly compromise the hull, an organic crew member would want to live more than a few seconds in the cold vastness of space. Though incredibly unlikely, Corran took no unnecessary risks. He was finalizing the pre-test checklist on a datapad carefully, which also held the list of repairs that had recently taken place. If something went wrong, they'd have somewhere to start. Pressing one last checkbox, Corran tilted his head to look at his co-pilot for the test, "All pre-checks are green. Systems read normal. Co-pilot ready for test launch?"

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The thought of seeing her friend got the woman through tedious file sorting and long interviews alike. Corran had asked her to help him run a few tests on his ship, almost an ancient relic. The blond man had looked rather nervous, shifting his weight from one side to the other and occasionally ruffling his shortly cropped hair. She’d taken him up on the offer in a heartbeat, naturally. Being around him brought out the best of her, let the guarded woman let go. Not to mention, his lighthearted humor that frequently scattered itself throughout conversation rarely ceased to amused her. The Ranger’s partner was there to support her in the life-altering moments, so it was the least she could do to aid him with the small.

Bast had always struggled with how to spend days off. Sometimes, she would ask for overtime, while other days she would use to run errands. Any extra time would be spent attending seminars and workshops. Occasionally, she would allow herself a concert at the Corellia Opera House or a meal at Le Jardin Luxury market. The days were frequently lonely, as her only acquaintances outside of family were from work. There was Haji, too, but she could hardly invite him to accompany her for a day in Coronet City. The young force user seemed wary of her, and extremely respectful to the point it made even her uncomfortable. Miss Bast just did not sound right to her coming from someone she knew as well as him. Thus, spending the day off with her partner was not only a pleasure, but a relief.

Despite the anticipation, an unnamed worry began to tug at Bast’s thoughts. This would be their first time meeting without the badge, and it felt as if they were meeting anew. Not that meeting strangers made the woman nervous, but the opposite. Corran was no stranger at all. Would he see her any differently now that neither was on duty? Mercifully, the worry of picking attire from her wardrobe, something that had never before been a cause of anguish for her, dissolved when she realized she would need a flight suit. Much to her relief, purchasing one was easy enough. The vendor had been horrified when she’d explained her old one had malfunctioned, and despite owning a ship, she had failed to obtain a new suit. The suit itself fit her well, though the back panel stretched unflatteringly over her prosthesis. Because she so often wore vests, the ugly protrusion stuck out like a sore thumb when the hazel eyes spotted it in the reflector.

———
The engine thrummed quietly as the Crimson Venture was being prepped for takeoff. The cockpit was small, but homely in a way. Scanning her own controls, Bast smiled at the pilot. For once, he was in control, and there was no one she would trust more. The female Sector Ranger resisted triple checking the fuel tanks and engine room, partially because it was likely Corran already had. “Ready.”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Behind the robotic and rigid persona that enshrouded the young man in the cockpit, a true anxiety had taken hold. Not about the ship or the test. Parts can be replaced and hulls can be repaired. No, practical concerns didn’t sit uneasy on Corran’s mind. It was the personal test, where things cannot be so easily fixed, that made him nervous. Staying hyper-focused on the flight test was more of a comfort zone than a necessity. Bast and him solved plenty of practical problems in the field together. When they wore the badge. Going beyond that, even for a situation like this, unnerved the young man. But he wanted to. He asked her to be here – off duty. It was time to be brave.

“Confirmed. Beginning launch,” came Corran’s monotone reply. Overhead switches were flipped. Forward console buttons were pressed. Two gloves hands gripped the steering mechanism, hesitated, then urged the freighter forward. Slowly, stars in the far distance began to pass by the cockpit windows. The small spheres of planets and moons that made up the Corellian system began to grow faintly, weakly ahead of them. The ship began to pick-up speed as the blond youth walked it through its paces. So far, so good. Sensors were picking up planets, debris, asteroids, and other ships. Energy readings reported full flow of power into main and sub-systems. Something metal clanked inside the YT-1300. Probably some unsecured datapad or silverware. The Crimson Venture was now accelerated to its full sub-light ion speed.

“Beginning final test. Initiating hyperspace jump to Corellia gravity well in…” Corran reached forward to a lever in the middle of the console and gripped it tightly, “Three…two…one… jumping.” The silver and bronze lever was pulled back, like it had hundreds of times. The ship gave three metallic whines, starting out higher pitched and weakening to a dull whistle. No tunnel of blue and white greeted them. Cocking an eyebrow, Corran pushed the lever back to the forward position. Lights flickered across the forward dash and the overhead controls in dazzling, incoherent patterns. The whole ship went dark and shuddered like a great beast rolling over to sleep. A few seconds ticked by and dim secondary lights returned to life, restoring visibility and some basic ship functions. It was obvious through the cockpit window’s that the freighter was no longer being propelled forward by its massive ion thrusters, but instead drift forward on its inertia. While being adrift was a concern, the stranded ship was still in an inhabited system and they were in no danger of ramming into anything for months – if they drifted for that long. Even if repairs took weeks, they had plenty of rations stockpiled on the Crimson Venture to live comfortably. They’d likely be found by CorSec by then, however. The real problem was… the test had failed and Corran’s mechanical confidence with it.

Rage or frustration did not appear. Many have stood by the roadside and kicked a non-functioning speeder, but Corran sat silently, unmoving. His gloved hands reached up and carefully, almost reluctantly, removed his helmet and held it on his lap. The young man’s face looked dejected, maybe even tired, as he stared out the window into the stars of space. A low sigh finally came, along with quiet words, “I don’t even know why I try sometimes with this ship.”

A slow inhale and exhale gave space before Corran turned his head to face Bast, “I’m sorry to ask yet another favor of you, and the universe knows I owe you a great deal already, but would you help me with this old hauler?” A weak smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, “At least to save me the towing fee.” There still was a bit of that boyish humor in him.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The Sector Ranger badge that sat above Bast’s heart was her armour, even more so than her protective tactical gear. The small piece of metal implied a thousand things. With it on, she was a protector, a Ranger. None of her worth had to lie within her true self, just that she was devoted to her work. With it on, she was a squad leader, an unbreakable woman, someone who deserved and commanded respect. Without it, she was simply a woman with nothing to her name and no cushion of familiar procedure or comfort zone. There would be no excuse to refuse a drink if one was offered because, for once, the detective was not on duty. The facade had been stripped away, and all that was left was the bones of a vulnerable woman.

The feeling was uncomfortable, but bearable with company. When in solitude, her thoughts would consume her if left unchecked. Bast knew that should she speak, Corran would listen, whether she was briefing a mission or pouring out her heart and soul. That didn’t make it any easier, though. She would not burden the young man with her troubles. It simply would not be fair. Still... having him beside her gave the female ranger a certain sense of comfort.

Distancing herself from her vexing musings, Bast noticed her partner... was he still her partner when they were off duty? The word would have a different connotation. Her partner seemed uneasy, barely glancing in her direction. He was so focused on controls she wondered if her remembered she was there. The investigator part of the woman wanted to ask what was wrong, but that felt much to direct. She couldn’t interrogate him in good conscience. Actually, the ship was sort of his home. Was that where his nervousness stemmed from? The thought of the charming, confident man being worried about that almost made her laugh, breaking the spell of doubt that had previously haunted her.

The first few checks went well, the ship delivering a smooth and beautiful ride. Out in open space, there was little to see but stars. Here, the ship hung suspended in a field of debris and asteroids, unreachable by time. It felt as if she could sit there in contentment forever. Unfortunately, however, there was one final check- hyperspace. As Corran counted down, she programmed her controls and leaned back against the padded seat, anticipating the push of inertia as the Crimson Venture approached the speed of light.

Nothing. Hazel eye blinked. Still nothing. The hum of ion engines had ceased. Suddenly the lights blinked out, quickly replaced by dimmer, secondary lights. Corran’s disappointment was palpable, despite the fact that his face was blank. Being adrift was not an issue, so naturally the woman was more concerned about her pilot. She extended a hand across the dash to one of his gloved ones and squeezed it gently. It felt... personal but right, and also bold. Bolder than she’d been before. Her eyes searched his for a reaction. Perhaps she’d overstepped something. Clearing her throat and withdrawing the hand, she gave a shy smile at his remark about the ship. “I think you have it mixed up. It is I who owe you my life. You owe me nothing, especially now that I no longer outrank you. What do you need?”


@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

His thoughts ceased almost entirely when her hand not only overlapped his, but squeezed it in a sign of support. Like the Crimson Venture itself, the young man's mind shut down at this new experience that was wholly unexpected. It was hard even to digest what was happening. He didn't recoil his hand or even show any change in expression on his face. Only the subtle movements of sky blue eyes suggested a searching. What did it mean? Did he... like it? Thoughts couldn't be willed into existence. When Bast removed her hand, the young man seemed to restart and come to. His eyes stared at his gloved hand for a moment and clenched his fingers once before turning to look at the Corellian. "You can't owe someone who refuses to accept a debt." He tucked the helmet on his lap under-arm and stood up from the pilot's chair. "As for what I need, your two hands and all your experience and knowledge of starships. I think with a little bit of me and a lot of you, we can get the Crimson flying again." As if giving a pat of support, the male Ranger pounded the bottom of his fist against the hull above their heads.

Corran took a few steps to exit the cockpit but turned around to wave at his co-pilot to follow, "Come on; lets get some tools and we can get started on going down the repair checklist." The hallway from the hull-adjacent cockpit led to the center of the ship - the common area. This was the part of the ship that allowed various crew to mingle, take breaks, and otherwise unwind on longer voyages. There was a semi-circular padded booth with a circular table in the middle, which could be used from everything to eating to Dejarik. Above the small dining table, a metal panel along the wall read in bold red writing Crimson Venture. A small kitchenette was tucked against the wall, with a cool storage, a small counter, cupboards, and a sink. An engineering suite made up another section of the wall, where a member of the crew could check sensors, hyperspace field disruptions, and power distribution. Directly nearby was a series of shelves that held a great many Holobooks. They were assorted by genre from history, to politics, to relaxing fiction. Such titles were easily legible such as Warlord: The Fall of the Galactic Empire and Survivor's Guide to the Outer Rim Territories. One entire shelf was dedicated to Sector Ranger bylaws, guidelines, manuals, and instruction templates. On top of it all, the interior of the ship was immaculately clean and organized. Not a patch of rust or dirt anywhere. Whomever had the time to clean a freighter this size by themselves had a lot of time alone.

Stopping at the engineering suite, Corran set his helmet down on the console and tried to turn it on. A few buttons uselessly clicked and switches flipped back and forth to no avail. The young man sighed, "Looks like we'll have to do this manually." Without explanation, Corran unzipped the top of his flight suit down to his waist and stopped there. He tied the now freed sleeves around his waist. Underneath he wore a more athletic style t-shirt that hugged his biceps, though it was more likely he wore it for comfort and practically under the flight suit than any other reason. The young man's range of motion now less limited, he began opening some compartments and pulling out various tool boxes. "Bast," he called out over his shoulder, "Would you grab the datapad on the kitchen counter over there? It has the checklist for all the repairs I attempted. Oh, and my place is your place. If you need food, water, or anything else, be my guest."

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The ship was in beautiful shape. Not a speck of dust or gashes of carbon scoring in sight. Even the spines of the books on the shelves were immaculately straight. Bast saw these things, but did not take notice. Her mind was still analysing Corran’s reaction to her touch, conjuring his blank face in her thoughts and replaying every move. She had expected him to flinch away or reciprocate, not freeze still as carbonite. Perhaps she’d startled him. The physical contact between them felt intimate on a new level that made sense emotionally but not logically. He’d carried her before, but that was different, a necessary move to survive. This had been thought through, purposeful, and perhaps an error in judgement. She needed to watch herself.

Despite the man’s odd reaction and the woman’s crimson hued ears, Corran focused just as quickly as he had stopped dead. In an way, it was almost as if the female Ranger had paused and then resumed a holorecording, as if nothing had happened. Bast nodded politely at his instructions, paying more attention to his body language that his words. Posture and gesture were much more reliable than statements. She wished he would just be up-front and tell her what had gone wrong. The woman was much too embarrassed to apologize and was not about to make them both uncomfortable again. Had she broken some unspoken rule? The air prickled at her hot skin.

Perhaps the temperature in the engineering suite was, in fact, warmer than outside, because Corran picked that moment to peel off the top of his flightsuit. For a terrifying second, Bast was worried he was going to be shirtless again. Not that it offended her. The young man was more than decent looking, from the glimpse she’d had. No. Thinking about him that way was completely inappropriate. Then, again, they were off duty... but... no. She couldn’t. It simply felt abrupt and confusing. He was comfortable sans-shirt but not with touching hands?

Mercifully, he was, in fact, wearing a shirt, albeit one that left little to the imagination. The woman felt immediately stupid for her previous thoughts. They were of a base and unprofessional nature that scared her. What the hell had she been thinking?

“Sure.” The return to practicality was refreshing. Perhaps she could not hide behind it, but the distraction was welcome. A smile expressed her thanks at his gesture, although she was nowhere near comfortable taking him up on it. “Do you think the issue is with the hyperdrive itself or somewhere in the fuel system? I... mostly take my ship in for repairs.”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

An array of four tool kits had been neatly placed side-by-side on the floor in the common area. Each were about equal size, but differing colors and had distinct labels on them. Hyperdrive Engine. Sublight Engine. Power Core & Converter. Fuel Distributor. Each kit contained every possible tool one would need in each labeled compartment of the ship. Much easier than digging through countless containers or boxes to find the right equipment. The young man found organizing things beforehand meant a speedier and more accurate repair process.

Corran shrugged at Bast’s suggestions of where the critical failure was located but then cocked an eyebrow at her own admission. “You usually take it in? Either your ship is newer and less faulty than mine or you’re the daughter of a coaxium baron. Which, if you are, tell me. I wouldn’t mind some inroads to luxury.” A little humor would go a long way in keeping frustrations low when working with vexing repairs. “It could be the hyperdrive. That’s about when our problems began, but that wouldn’t explain the loss of power. All we can do is look in these four places.” The blond youth pointed to the four labeled tool kits between them. Resting his hands on his hips, he looked at Bast matter-of-factly. It didn’t really matter where they got started, but it was his ship, so he supposed it was down to the ‘captain.’ Corran knelt down and hefted up the two tool kits for the fuel distributor and hyperdrive engines. He pointed with a nod to a hallway leading out of the common area. “We’ll check the engines first. If they are fine, then we know it is something more internal. We’ll have to go down into the guts via the Engineering access ladder if that’s the case.” With a plan now laid out, the young man turned on a heel and followed his own orders.

Despite the ship’s age, nearly a relic, the previous owner (and a bit of Corran himself) had worked diligently to return the YT-1300 to its original configuration. The layout was almost entirely to manual spec, except for one of the bunk rooms being turned into a jury-rigged cell for captured criminals. The two off-duty Rangers passed by the crew quarters along the way, but the door to Corran’s room was shut. Seems not everything was open to guests. The engine room was a little cramped, but it provided access to several key systems – easier for crews to repair even in mid-flight. Corran set the hyperdrive kit on the right and fuel distributor kit on the left, near the panels that would need to be removed.

“First things first, we’ll start on the hyperdrive,” the young man stated clearly. He unlatched the tool box and pulled out the first visible tool. “The panel is a little finicky, so I’ll hold it and you’ll use this to remove the securing bolts. Just… let me know if it's uncomfortable.” Based on Corran’s face, the last sentence carried a lot of weight. If he was holding the panel to make sure it didn’t blow off or clank heavily to the floor, that meant Bast would have to either slink under his arms and work between them or press against his back and work under or over his shoulders. It was clear he was trying to be polite, but didn't have an alternative. If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have been able to tell, but Bast had been in enough situations to know when the male Ranger was tense.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

What Bast had said about taking her ship in was true, if a little embarrassing. Mostly because it took too much time to repair the thing herself, and the Crescent was a relatively new model whose parts were not difficult to find commercially. She knew enough to tell a Pilot’s Driver from a Harris Wrench and fixed clogged tubing, but she was worried Corran had grossly overestimated her repair ability. Every ship had a manual, right? The one in her ship was packaged in a water and fireproof container, as well having a digital copy, just in case. She briefly considered asking for it, but figured that would do nothing to boost his faith in her. So, the woman put on her most confident face and followed his instructions. There was no doubt she would need them. Thankfully, Bast exceeded at carrying out orders, so this could not be that difficult.

“If I were the daughter of a coaxium baron-“ she gestured at the new flight suit with a wry smile- “I would have one of these encrusted with kyber, not off a discount rack.” The female ranger failed to mention she had gone years without buying one simply because she had not deemed it necessary enough. She was not poor, but by no means was the Correlian wealthy. Both captain and copilot knew that a Sector Ranger job hardly raked in credits. Neither did CorSec, but they did not want her anymore. “I also would have gotten you something a little better that chocolate covered dried Shuura when I was visiting you.” Bast’s mind drifted back to the flowers he had gotten her. She wondered how expensive they were and immediately felt guilty.

The engine room was small, but the hyperdrive storage room was practically a closet. She took the tool from the blond man’s hand and then stepped back a few paces as he climbed in. ‘Just… let me know if it's uncomfortable.’ If he got too close? If he accidentally brushed her? That was hardly an issue. The man looked hesitant, with apprehension written across his features, his brow furrowed. It was tight, but she trusted him. “I would tell you if I felt that way, and I trust you would do the same.“

Carefully sidling into the room, the woman inserted herself between Corran and the wall. Typically she would avoid exposing her back to someone else, but this seemed the best method for reaching the panel without giving her partner an awkward side hug to get around his broad shoulders. Not only was turning her back to someone a bad tactical move (though that did not apply in this situation), but her prosthesis was fragile and the tissue around it incredibly sensitive. An accidental, albeit rough bump could send waves of pain down her spine. She was still healing from her surgery, despite months of recovery. Knowing of all that would likely worry Corran more, so she decided it would be best to abide by the ‘ignorance is bliss’ principle.

Bast could feel his body heat radiating in the warmth of the engine room. Thank goodness she was already flushed enough to hide any blush. It was time to get to work and stop focusing on more primal, idle things. After the bolts were successfully removed, Bast plucked a light from the tool box and shone it into the cavity. Something jumped out. She gasped in surprise at the small, frog like creature, stumbling back into Corran. “I... uh... do not think this is the actual problem, but I believe you may have a gizka infestation. Or, you failed to tell me about your new pet?” Her light tone disguised frustration. This was about to make repairs much more complicated.


@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

It wasn’t as cramped as Corran thought it would be. Even with his arms fully extended, giving the woman between them as much space as he could manage, they were still in close quarters but not smooshed together. That was surprising given Bast was quite tall for a woman. Maybe it was because she usually wore bulkier clothing. The flight suit she wore now hugged her figure. It allowed a little more room to maneuver between his body and hers. Yes; it was practical. That’s why he was thinking about it. Right?

There was something else though. Something impossible to ignore. The flight suit also outlined the apparatus that clung to the woman’s back. For something so important to Bast’s everyday life and function, it almost never crossed Corran’s mind. She was always so capable. Nothing slowed her down or proved insurmountable. He wondered if it bothered her. How she slept with it on. All the little things he took for granted. Outpost Blue taught him that the device could be damaged, so he tried to keep his chest away from spine as much as possible.

When the bolts were detached, the weight of the panel spiked rapidly. A small groan of surprise was uttered by the young man as he pulled it away from the hyperspace engine compartment and then leaned it against the wall. It had nearly taken all his strength with his arms fully extended. Putting that back on later would be a team effort. Bast poured artificial light into the opening. To both their surprise, a two-legged creature hopped out and zig-zagged across the floor, forcing Bast to trip backwards onto the young man. Aware of her spine, was forced to grab her about the hips and waist to make sure she didn’t fall too hard onto him or anything else. The ship was already adrift; they didn’t need to add personal injury to the list.

“A what infestation?” Corran sounded incredulous. His ship was always tidy. Always clean. How could an animal stowaway? Even worse, gizkas. Usually if there was one, there were more. They chewed on wires and those were the most expensive to replace – he couldn’t do it himself. “Gizka. Just what we needed. I don’t even know where to begin on that problem.” A heavy, labored sigh followed. What if there were already hundreds in here, among the guts and cables? Some spacers recommended flamethrowers or toxic gas to fumigate a ship. Right now, they had access to neither until they landed somewhere. The young man dented his eyebrows in thought. A beat of silence. Then two. Corran blinked a few times, realizing he had been holding Bast this whole time. Cautiously, he released his grip and pressed his back against the wall to give her as much space as possible in the cramped engine room. “Sorry…” It was a weak apology, almost silent. He cleared his throat, “Maybe we should arm ourselves to take care of the little cretins that we come across.”

Any excuse to leave this tiny room was better than staying here, uncomfortable with himself. Afraid of what the Corellian woman thought of him. The young man was so flustered he forgot to ask if she was alright. He exited first and waved for her to follow. When they got to the crew quarters just down the hall, a press of a button and twist of a handle caused the door to slide open to Corran’s room. The bed was perfectly made to the point that cadet’s in boot camp would be envious. A holobook sat on the night stand and a small Nebulon-B frigate model glittered on top of the dresser. Almost immediately adjacent to the door was a tall locker. The male Ranger silently pressed in a code and the locker chirped open. Inside were a Power 5 blaster pistol, an A280C rifle, stun rod, and a vibroblade in a sheath. "Take your pick."

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The gizka, a green, yellow, and pinkish speckled thing, was going berserk. It made a mad dash for the exit, landing it’s jump with a moist and solid sounding thump. Bast hoped the creatures did not carry disease. She had never had a personal infestation, but had heard the tales of the unlucky few who did. The small, amphibious-like animals would climb aboard and burrow in ships, enjoying the heat of the engine. There was also never just one.

In order to prevent a hard fall, or perhaps prevent a domino effect, Corran deftly caught his stumbling partner. Although the misstep could have been more graceful, she appreciated avoiding a painful knock to the head. Perhaps he sensed her weakness, because, remarkably, the male ranger had avoided the woman’s back and instead steadied her by the hips and waist. Sighing deeply, the Commenor man lamented about their new discovery. Gizkas were indeed a rather expensive problem. Bast waited patiently for him to remove his hold her, but the Corran was so caught up in his worries about the ship, it seemed he had forgotten his hands, gently resting on her midsection. The sensation made her skin prickle uncomfortably, but something in her chest felt like it had fallen through the floor. She barely breathed, unsure of what to do. Was this intentional? Their bodies felt terribly close, but nothing in her screamed to fight or run, so the woman simply stood still.

The shock was quickly fading, and now the uncomfortable prickle had disappeared, replaced the the feeling of a warm, steady hand. She did not lean in, but neither did Bast shrink away. Corran had gone quiet and was slowly removing his grip, as carefully as if he were defusing an explosive. Back to the wall, the man pressed as far away from her as possible. What had happened? Had she done something wrong? Should she have pulled away? The lines of personal life and duty were so blurred, they were impossible to make out. A small apology escaped her partner’s lips, barely audible over the hum of the engine room. The expression on his face was one of fear and shame. So his gesture had simply been an accident. Relief and a foreign disappointment made her smile, but her forehead was creased. “It’s... alright.” Her tone gained a touch of confidence. “You were trying to help and prevented a rather nasty injury. I cannot say I mind.”

Corran’s room was impeccable. The bed was made without a single wrinkle and everything was neatly in place. Despite his invitation, being there felt like an invasion of privacy, so she focused her attention completely on him and the locker. The Power 5 was his while on the job, so that was immediately out of the picture. Eventually, Bast settled on the rifle. The tension of the past few minutes was beginning to dissipate. A smirk played on her face. “Lead the way, then.”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

The A280C was a wise choice. A little bulky for ship corridors, but that rifle had been a trusty companion in countless arrests and firefights. Corran lifted it from its rack in the case and shortened the stock to a more comfortable length for close quarters. He then slapped a power pack in it and offered it to his female companion. "Just make sure your shots are clean or keep it on stun. Cleaning off carbon scoring from my walls and floors takes a long time," he warned with a cocked eyebrow. The young man reached for his reliable Power 5 blaster and holster. In moments, he had belted it around his waist and strapped the holster to his thigh in the Corellian style. He moved to shut the locker but hesitated. Blue eyes glanced about the remaining weaponry. The off-duty Ranger grabbed the stun-rod and hooked it to his belt. You never know when a secondary might come in handy. The locker door shut and the code panel chirped, signifying it had locked. It was time for the hunt.

Corran motioned silently for Bast to follow and sealed his bedroom door behind her. That was to prevent any gizka getting in there. Right? While taking slow steps towards the common area, little annoying thoughts kept buzzing at his determined mind. The words she had said before, in the engine access room, kept with him and he didn't know why. It wasn't so much what Bast had said, but how she said it. She couldn't say she didn't mind, with that subtle but noticeable confidence. Mind... what? Touching her? Holding her? And why were these thoughts considering those intentions behind her words? Corran glanced back over his shoulder with one eye. The former CorSec officer looked every bit the professional. Hair tied back. Weapon in hand. Sloping waist in the flight su-- he gave his head a firm shake and faced forward. What was wrong with him?

So caught up in his own head, the blond youth almost didn't notice the gurgled cackle of a small lizard hiding in the shadow of the holotable. Corran froze and raised a fist to indicate a cease movement order. It had cornered itself. A steady hand slowly slinked to the grip of the Power 5. The little head of the wiring-eat critter peaked out from the darkness. The air took on something of a Mos Eisley stand off. In the blink of an eye, Corran drew his firearm. The gizka was faster. It bolted out from under the table. He tried to line up a shot but the little monster darted between his legs. The man spun around but stumbled on his feet, causing him to fall back and brace himself on the holotable. "Bast!" He shouted, hoping she could get it.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The firm thud of the sealed door was something of a relief, but also... unsatisfactory? No. That was not the right word. It was his ship. He could do what he pleased in the realm of sealing or leaving ajar entrances. The feeling of personal invasion was mercifully gone, but so was the air of vulnerability. Behind that door, on the crisp sheets, in the dresser, on the nightstand, lay his personal life. She had poured out her heart to him while heavily drugged, though she likely would have done it anyway. Corran owed her nothing, yet she was curious. Curious what lay in that sealed room of his past, his interests, his aspirations.

So caught up in her own contradictory thoughts was she, that Bast took a few moments to notice her partner simply staring. A panicked thought about a smudge of dirt on her face or ration stuck in her teeth raced through the Corellian woman, but rather than say anything, he simply shook his head. If he was too polite to tell her she had something stuck in her teeth, she considered giving him a solid punch. Or at least a penetrating glare. The thought resulted in a smile. The last time she had punched someone, excluding self defense, was as a child. It had been her older brother. They had had an argument about running errands. She had not seen him in roughly fifteen years. Guilt throbbed in the female ranger’s stomach.

The sharp exclamation from Corran gave Bast just enough warning to yelp and jump out of the way, nearly avoiding a gizka collision. Immediately, embarrassment flooded in. That had been her chance, but, charge by a small slimy lizard, she had balked. Hazel eyed tracked the creature that had caused her to behave so traitorously to her calm nature. In an almost predatory manner, Bast stalked the creature. Inhibitions were lost to focus, and the woman’s gait became more uneven, more stiff. The usual grace perfected by years of physical therapy were temporarily forgotten. Finally, she pounced.

“One down” the joy in the voice was that of a younger woman, unburdened, satisfied. “Perhaps traps would be a more effective method.“ For once the statement was not only an observation of fact, but had an undertone. One the industrious ranger was too unsure to clearly express. We have all the time in the galaxy. Let us take a break.



@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

All that effort to take down one little lizard stowaway. Not only had it been too quick and clever for Corran to get a bead on, but it had taken his partner a lot of effort to hunt down and finally silence. She even went so far as not to leave any carbon-scoring on the floor. Bast surprised him with a pleased voice that contained a little amount of thrill. From his perch braced against the holotable, the young man blinked a few times. He’d never see her like that. So… youthful. She offered a better alternative than hunting the pests down one by one, which forced Corran to both focus back on the present and nod in agreement.

“You’re right,” he said with a wearied sigh, “We can’t hunt them down one by one. We’ll be here for years.” Years they didn’t have. A couple of weeks at most, until a CorSec patrol spotted them drifting past Bast’s homeworld. The blond youth glanced at the Corellian woman. A part of him feared how… comfortable they’d be after a few weeks trapped together. Another part was curious. A brief shake of the head warded off those thoughts. By then the ship might be hallowed out completely by hungry Gizkas.

Pushing himself off the holotable, Corran strode a few short steps to the edge of the semi-circular booth and sat down. He rested his elbows on the table itself, set the Power 5 down, and rubbed his face in his hands miserably. “What kind of bait and traps even work on Gizka?” The stranded ship captain bemoaned. A sigh allowed the hands to fall from his face, but tension remained in the young man’s shoulders. Blue eyes glanced to the woman standing nearby. Though he didn’t say it, they looked as if beaconing her to sit. Maybe he didn’t even intend for them to convey it and yet… they did. “What do you think?” Corran asked in a low, unsure voice. The question felt like it was asking more than just about Gizka bait.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Despite her own elation in the small victory, Corran seemed exhausted. He watched quietly, propped up against the holotable as the female ranger laid out her plan. She considered making a joke that they would survive on roast gizka, but though better of it. The problem was expensive and clearly weighed heavily on her partner’s shoulders. He shifted restlessly to the bench. Bast bit her lip, partially in thought, partially as a reaction to his clear distress. Cautiously, a hand ran lightly and reassuringly down his back as she passed him.

“If I remember correctly, my ship manual says to hide gizka poison in grain rations. We do not have the poison, but we do have the rations. What do you say for a simple rope and net trap? They aren’t exactly the brightest little stars in the universe.”

With his blessing, she would leave for the kitchenette. Was this considered impolite? She hoped the other off-duty ranger would understand. Out of respect, the woman fought the urge to look around and investigate, resolving only to pull a natur-grain bar out of a compartment. Pausing for a moment, she took an extra. Like the rest of the ship, the kitchen was spotless. Bast wondered how Corran lived. When the last time he’d had guests was. Was that what she was considered? A coworker? Guest? Something else? Was he uncomfortable at the prospect of having her in his home for... however long they were going to be stuck? Realizing she had been gone perhaps a minute too long, the Corellian woman spun on her heel and walked briskly back, dropping a fruit flavored bar on the holotable as an attempted gesture of comfort.

Silently, Bast crumbled the rest and set the bits of food on the floor. “You may have to sweep after this.“ Her tone was light, a playful attempt at a joke, albeit a rather weak one. Once the trap was set it was a waiting game. Corran had yet to rise, and was looking at her as if expecting something. At a loss, Bast offered a small smile and seated herself next to him, not quite close enough to touch. The apprehension in the air could have simply been for the gizka trap, but it felt like something more. Out of habit, Bast reached to straighten her badge only to find nothing but a flight suit. “I would...” like to hear about your family? Play a game of holochess? Like to shrink the space between them? Considering for a second, she backed out of the question. “Let’s get some dinner.”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

A sudden hand caressing his back caused the off-duty Ranger to open his eyes wide for the briefest of moments, before shifting his eyes to his passing-by partner. Unsure of what came next, he kept quiet. Contrary to the friendly touch, Bast's words were all business. That didn't make the interaction any less socially confusing. Perhaps best not to dwell on it. The plan presented was quite simple; that wasn't a slight against it - it just seemed too good to be true. "Gizka eat grain? I thought they only ate wires and stuff," Corran said with a skeptical look on his face. If he didn't believe it, he did believe in Bast. He trusted her without question and so he gave a permissive wave to continue with this scheme.

Companionable silence settled in the common area as Corran interlaced his fingers and waited for his partner. With the addition of the Gizka stowaways, the whole test flight went from finding a mechanical problem to a long affair of pest control on top of repairs. That means they could be floating through space for a few days. Blue eyes stared at the back of the Corellian woman in the small kitchenette. Had they ever been together that long? No, not like this. Missions didn't count. She was here on a personal request - for her piloting skills and experience, yes, but also because he trusted her without fail. When they were together, everything turned out alright. She was a... friend. The blond youth gave his head a subtle shake. That word didn't do it justice. He settled his eyes back to the holotable and dented his eyebrows. What word would do it justice?

A single fruit-flavored bar fell on to the table, breaking the male Ranger's linguistic search. He did a double take between the bar and Bast, looking like he thought an answer would just appear in the air. Instead, the Corellian crunched another bar onto the floor in a manageable pile. Her jest actually made the young man huff in amusement. If catching ship-eating lizards took a little sweeping, it would be worth it. The confusion cleared up on Corran's face as Bast set the net trap. It was a sight more clever than hunting the little things with blasters through the bowels of the ship. Blue eyes rose from the crumbled grain bar to look at her. She began to approach him. Anticipation of the unknown caused his shoulders to tense up slightly. When she sat down right next to him, the young man froze. His mind flat-lined. They were close, but not touching, mercifully. Bast finally said something. She would... what? What would she do? He couldn't even imagine the countless possibilities. In a way, he was afraid to.

When she seemed to change her mind and seek after supper, the blond youth actually coughed a bit. He covered his mouth with his arm to be polite. He didn't realize had had been holding his breath. "Sorry about that," Corran apologized after clearing his throat. He picked up the fruit-flavored bar and shook it back and forth slowly like a metronome. "If we are going to eat dinner, I don't think this will suffice." That boyish grin crept up on his face once again. Using the bar to point at the kitchenette, he started making a case, "I'm not an incredible cook, but I bet I can whip up something better than ration bars. If we've got time to kill, why not?" That socially troublesome hurdle remained; Bast was sitting right beside him and scooting all the way around the booth would be awkward. Perhaps a polite gesture might be wiser. Plus, he didn't want to encroach on her personal space... right? "What do you like? We can check out what supplies we've got on hand and go from there."

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Hazel eyes widened momentarily as Corran coughed. She had been so lost in an attempt to recover from her previous question, to figure out what she had meant to say, that the sudden sound and movement surprised her. What had she been going to say? The Corellian woman felt just as left in the dark as her partner likely did. Her words were always thought out, methodical and clear, yet the question had slipped. Her composure had been compromised. Kindly, Corran had not recognized her mistake in any way. Was he politely deflecting what he knew would be a personal question? Bast asked personal questions to her clients frequently: how their family relations were, if they were jealous, if they had any affairs, but asking him was different. She did not need to know the answers, she asked because she wanted to. The stakes were somehow higher, as if his answer would be an indication of trust.

“It’s... not a problem” She smirked slightly in response to his needless apology. Needless, but endearing. He treated her as if she were something fragile, gently, carefully, every effort put towards preventing her from cracking. At the same time, he didn’t doubt her ability to do her job. It was flattering, but also unsatisfying. She could be truly herself around him, but did he have the same freedom, or was he forced to tip-toe around his desires for her sake?

That could not happen any longer. She would not allow it.

‘If we have time to kill?” Almost laughing aloud, Bast stood up to allow him space to pass. They had days. A carefree night was the least she could do. Following the blond man closely back to the kitchenette, she freed her hair, shaking her head slightly to let the brown locks glide over her shoulders. This time, she observed the room more closely. It smelled of a pungent spice, sweet yet with a sting. Realizing she likely did not smell so wonderful herself after doing repairs in a hot engine room, she took a step back. “I usually make myself something instant, if I eat at all. Protein pills don’t add much flavor, so I can’t say I’m picky.“ The mention of the protein pills reminded her of a critical error in foresight. She had not taken her medication for nightmares, or really anything other than an extra set of clothes in the event her fight suit was dirtied. Considering for a moment she continued. It would have to be a problem for later. The night was still young. “Though I would fancy something light and savoury. Can I help?”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

With the way now open, Corran took the opportunity to scoot out of the semi-circular booth and finally rose to his feet. There was some well-hidden relief in his chest that his partner had allowed him passage. Best not to dwell on why and get started on the supper he promised. With a slight nod in thanks, he strode to the kitchenette and began searching through cabinets and freezer to make account of what was available for cooking. Bast stood behind him and he listened as she spoke of her own eating habits. "Yeah, I usually eat something quick too. Protein bar or navy rations. Except for breakfast," he said absentmindedly as he looked through a cabinet for spices. He was starting to get an idea of what was on hand and his fellow Ranger so willingly provided her preference. Light and savoury. That he could do. At her polite request to help, the young man shut the cabinet he was looking in and turned around as if to speak. His voice was stopped cold by the sight that greeted him.

Brown hair draped over Bast's shoulders and framed her face in a pleasing way. The blond youth's mouth hung open slightly, frozen in surprise at how the Corellian looked. It was so different with such a simple change. He had only seen her with hair tied back tightly, and professionally, in a bun. Practical for their line of work. It struck him that Bast looked less like a Sector Ranger and more like a... a woman. He forced himself to blink a few times to interrupt his staring. "Y-yeah. I could use your help. Do... do you know how to make baked cushnip and fral?" Corran cleared his through and turned to face away from her at an attempt to cover his repressed astonishment. "If you could, would you boil some water? Pot is in the nearest cabinet near the wall-sink." Yes. A little distraction would help calm his nerves. Even as he pulled out a cutting board to prepare the unbaked bread and ingredients to stuff the noodles, the image of Bast looking at him in her casual... state wouldn't leave. Why did his nerves need calming in the first place? She was a coworker. A friend. Anything else was inappropriate. Though, no manual said it was expressly forbidden to fraternize.

Thoughts such as these battled back and forth as Corran took out his confusion on the dough, kneading it roughly with his hands. Every once and awhile he would break off a chunk and plate it on a pan. Even if he made a few extra, storing them for later would be a welcome snack should they linger out here for a few days. Eventually, his mind called a truce and just settled on the most easy-going solution: treat Bast like he always had. A change in hair, while startling nice to look at, was no reason to lose his professional restraint. She likely didn't think much of him either, beyond what he knew. "You'll have to forgive me if my portions are way off," the male Ranger admitted, "I'm not usually cooking for two. I eat quite a bit at least one meal a day too. Oh, and mind putting some of the fral noodles into the pot once its ready?" That was more like it. His voice had returned to its sociable, boyish self. No more of those blushing stammers. As long he stuck to practical matters, he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of his long-time partner.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

With one hand, Bast deftly gathered her hair to one side, with the other she grabbed a pot. The woman felt his eyes on her as she filled the heavy dish with water. He could feel herself turning a bit pink, but not out of discomfort. Not discomfort in her situation, for that matter. The idea that she would blush under his gaze was what was disconcerting. Did she have feelings for him? Well of course, he was her partner. The Corellian would trust him to lead her blind through a minefield. But even the rationalization was not enough to reconcile her reaction. Her waist still felt as if it were being supported by warm hands. She never tested the limits. Never pushed the boundaries. But... outside of work, she had never even considered it.

The pot had been set on the stove and was happily bubbling, but the woman still stared at the wall, lost in her own thoughts. “Hmm? Oh, sure.” She took a tin of noodles and opened it, absentmindedly pouring them in. A dull thumping drew her attention to her companion, who was kneading the dough so hard she was surprised the counter hadn’t cracked. “Uhm Corran? What did the bread ever do to you?” Snorting slightly at her own terrible humor, she washed washed her hands and drew closer. He smelled of hard work and something vaguely leathery. Why was she noticing this? The desire to shower and get on fresh clothes grew stronger. He’d seen her dehydrated, bruised, smelling of blood and stale vomit, but somehow she felt embarrassed to smell of oil and sweat, to have her flight suit smudged with grime.

The pasta was taking an agonizingly long time to cook. Busying herself with the dishes, the woman waited in silence. Although Corran seemed to have relaxed, a giddy, nervous excitement was gathering in the pit of her stomach, much like she experienced before dangerous missions. It could have been passed of as hunger, but the off-duty ranger knew better. Just as the last bowl was being rinsed, the timer chirped, indicating the pasta was cooked.

Grabbing a plate, Bast did her best to avoid Corran’s gaze. Something about it was intense in a way it hadn't been before. She scooped up a ladleful of the stuffed meal and unceremoniously dumped it onto a tray, handing her partner the dish, before serving up a second one. Letting him lead the way to the holotable, she seated herself close to him one more, calculating the amount of elbow space they would need to eat without jabbing each other after every bite. Despite the consideration, she did not touch the food, instead waiting for Corran to begin, partially out of manners, partially out of the odd case of nerves that had overtaken her. It was as if she were a rookie taking her final exam. “So. Do you have guests often?”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Normally, Bast wasn't much of one to share a humorous joke. Usually they were on serious missions where justice, or life itself, hung in the balance. Unfortunately, it didn't cause Corran to laugh. It merely helped him realize he was pounding the bread a little too roughly. He didn't even know he was doing that. The male Ranger furrowed his brow and mentally scolded himself for getting too lost in his own thoughts. While her initial joke didn't make him laugh, her snort did. Did she always snort when she laughed? It was cute. He gave his head a brief shake off that thought. Glancing over his shoulder to look back at the Corellian, he noticed she was standing somewhat close to him. That was fine; the kitchenette was quite small. Though a scent seemed to carve its wait between the other cooking aromas. That mixture of hard work, exertion, and deodorant. It wasn't unpleasant - the two had been drenched in sweat, gore, and ash plenty of times before - just a sign that maybe he would need to hit the refresher after dinner.

When the timer went off, that meant supper was finally finished and the blond youth was surprised to see Bast had gone above and beyond what was asked of her and cleaned a few dishes. His shoulders slouched in a visible gesture of thankfulness and a warmth of appreciation in his chest. How was he so lucky to end up with a partner who was not only good at her job, that he trusted so completely, but also was turning out to be a better friend than anyone could hope for off duty as well? He'd have to thank her later for that.

She served up a bowl of noodles, which he took in one hand, and he carried a plate of cushnip that the pair could communally share from the holotable. Corran sat down in the same spot before and once again Bast sat near him. The second time was less attention-getting. Maybe this is just how she sat with others. Despite all that uncertainty that had battled inside him, the young man was nonetheless hungry after a stressful day. A utensil-full of noodles was soon being chowed down on. Mid-chew, and without taking her own bite, the Corellian started off the dinner discussion with one normally asked when others came aboard the Crimson Venture.

The male Ranger swallowed and let his eating utensil gently settle in the bowl before him. "Guests? No, not really. Unless you count the detainees I bring aboard from time to time. I often travel solo." Corran sounded resigned to that fate; accepting of it. The last person he had willingly on board was Doctor Morata, back on the Smuggler's Moon. They hadn't spoken since then, as he was working on her Ranger Affiliate paperwork. Though, it wasn't all bad news. "I make sure to message my mom whenever I can. Helps break up the silence. She gets worried if she doesn't hear from me after awhile." Blue eyes fell to the dinner bowl in front of him and a smirk crept up on his youthful features. It was clear he was reminiscing about something. A brief chuckle escaped his lips. Corran took another bite of the fral noodles and stopped mid-chew to point at Bast with the utensil, "You know, you did a good job with these. Tastes really good."

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Bast furrowed her brow, a light smile resting on her lips. “Thanks. I... put them in water.” Pausing, she considered, then took a bite. Normally she ate alone. The close proximity to another gave her a certain comfort. The pasta was indeed quite good, due to Corran’s skill with cooking and preparing the stuffing, though he would never admit it. The meal was slightly salty and filling, but not particularly hearty. It smelled heavenly. Taking another whiff of the steam, hazel eyes flicked up to his face, the blond hair glowing in the dim light of space. They were in the shadow of the planet now, the closest Bast figured it could get to evening drifting in the abyss.

The whole place was not particularly large, but it felt homey. The Corellian woman’s childhood home had been on the larger end of apartments, filled to the brim with everything useful, all neatly stored. Nothing for sentiment or beauty. Their beauty was in their practicality. His ship felt different. It was neat, yet the rows of supplies did not seem imposing. There were holobooks on the shelf, but they were not in alphabetical order to maximize efficiency. Time was a valuable resource. Time was wasted by disorder. Even the woman’s own ship was spartan in its features. Perhaps she should find some holobooks or a painting.

The intensity before had given way to a softness, a warmth. “Tell me about your mother.” She took another bite, eagerly eating, but Bast’s attention was clearly on him. “Where is your family from?” The expression that graced his face when he though about her was nothing short of comforting, perhaps even adoring. He clearly loved her very much. Was she the one who taught him how to cook, she wondered?

Barely conscious of her own movement, Bast slid closer, almost brushing shoulders with the man adjacent her. Her own plate was finished, utensils neatly placed on the side. One hand ran absentmindedly through her hair, untangling any unruly bits. There was apprehension in the atmosphere, looking to see if Corran felt it too, she caught his eye and gave a full fledged smile, a silent ’thank you’, not for anything in particular perhaps, but being there.

@TerranSteel