Ask First in Flight

[Corran Velt]

An amused grin crept up on Corran’s face to mirror Bast’s smile and her dry quip about boiling noodles. In spite of their problematic situation, they could still find some humor in it. Adrift in space, on a ship potentially being eaten alive by stowaway reptiles, and he could still feel at ease. They had been through some touch scrapes before and come out alive every time. As the male Ranger so often said - when they were together, everything will turn out alright.

Light dimmed in the common area, as the sunlight from Corellia’s star floated behind a planet. Not Corellia itself, but one of the outlying planets. As they drifted towards the famous planet, however many days that was, their chances rose to be rescued. Hazel eyes flicked up to look at him; sky blue glanced back. Suddenly, but only for a spark of a moment, Corran hoped rescue was a little ways off yet.

A visible happy glow seemed to emanate from the young man when his Corellian partner asked after his family. It was obvious that he had nothing to hide about his mother and cherished that relationship. “I’m from Commenor. My family has lived there for a few generations – mostly for the space trader culture there.” He took a quick bite of dinner and swallowed just as swiftly. “My mom, though, is one of a kind. She's the best mom anyone could ask for. Always loving. Always supportive." Corran huffed a bit in suppressed amusement. "Always ready with an embarrassing story of her son." He took another bite of their savory supper. His chewing seemed to slow with each bite before finally ending in a reluctant swallow. The utensil rested on the rim of the bowl. His countenance changed to something like admiration or reflection of the past.

The blond youth was so in his own thoughts that he didn't immediately recognize that Bast was nearly brushing against him. "Mom and I are pretty close. Always have been since Dad..." His voice trailed off, leaving the the sentence unfinished, "All we had was each other. She only wanted what was best for me. Even when I was too stubborn to see it." Blue eyes stared at the ceramic bowl before them, as if a holoscreen was playing back memories of his youth on it. Another appreciate smirk appeared, followed by a soft chuckle. "You know," Corran began slowly raising his gaze to the woman beside him, "In a lot of ways you remind me of–" His voice cut off abruptly as his eyes reached their zenith; meeting Bast's own hazel stare. They stayed locked there. He had been oblivious to the apprehension in the air and only now felt it, having previously been too focused on his family and memories.

She was smiling. Bast Emblai, the rugged, stoic, determined law enforcer, was smiling. She had smiled at him before, but not as full or as genuine as this. It was affixing. Her hair being pulled out of a precise bun and flowing free down a shoulder seemed to add more wonder to the whole experience. Corran noticed how closely she sat, unbothered by the proximity. He wanted to scoot a bit away - to allow more professional space. But his body refused to obey. It stayed right where it was. Even his head refused to turn away. With a great deal of mental effort, he finally forced his eyes to blink. Once. Twice. Some measure of control was returning. While his person refused to follow commands, the young Ranger was able to will his gaze to shift downward, to a blank spot on the table. "Sorry. I blathered a little bit," he said in a soft tone, "My mom and I didn't see eye to eye once, pretty seriously. I try to cherish what we learned from that." Another small moment of quiet. Corran glanced up only briefly to his partner before settling back to the table. "She'd like you, I think."

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The blond man seemed to take pride in his history, enthusiastically detailing his childhood, his home planet, his mother. Still, years of investigative work told Bast a portion of the story remained untold. Not only did the unfinished sentences hint at the missing fragment, but Corran’s voice changed. He hesitated. The weight of the tone shifted, became almost regretful, somber. The woman could fill in the pieces fairly easily. A death. An unhealed wound that she had just reopened slightly. Just as she was about to apologize, her partner smiled again, the sadness fading from his expression.

Listening intently, Bast‘s focus was solely on the man beside her, concentrated to the point of intensity. She absorbed the information without a second thought, longing for more, slotting in the blanks, building the profile. Yet the profile was not one of a suspect. It was entirely separate from the one she had formed as his partner on missions. The details felt more intimate, the motives and aspirations went deeper. It felt as if the Sector Ranger and the man she was with now were not such separate entities, but rather one nuanced person, one that blurred the lines between professional and personal life. When their eyes finally met, she stared back unflinchingly.

The reserved, reasonable woman returned. What had overcome her? But if Corran straddled both of her worlds, she must as well, by default. For perhaps the first time, the logic made her uncomfortable. It could not be ignored, yet she could not consider it. But facts brushed under the rug were still true. Her thoughts only cycled back to her emotions. The ones she had though she was above. The Sector Ranger was far too disciplined to give into primal need. Yet, that assumed her identity was entirely defined by her work, which it had been, until recently.

The same tension that drove the off-duty detective seemed to make Corran uncomfortable. He shied away, eyes returning to the table. Bast exhaled a breath she did not remember holding. The air was still... well... the best metaphor she could conjure was that of a ship engine. Peaceful until the spark, yet ready to ignite. Whatever that meant. The subtle comment at the end caused the woman to swallow, then blush slightly. His mother seemed like a respectable woman, perhaps in a different way than her own mother had been, but still respectable, even good, caring in a way that seemed alien.

It took Bast a moment to respond as the man beside her finished softly. The lull was comforting, to sit there with him, close enough to feel his body heat, his slow breathing. “She sounds like a lovely woman. It would be an honor to met her sometime, once we-“ she gestured vaguely at the ship, “- are rescued.” Silently, selfishly, she hoped the rescue would take a bit of time.

Stacking their plates and gathering the utensils, she shyly brushed some loose hair out of his face, then headed to the kitchenette to wash up, wondering what he had planned for the rest of the night. A quick glance informed hr that the gizka trap was still empty.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

The air felt like a pressure. A gravity. Pushing hard against him. Each second that ticked by in the silence felt like an hour. He didn’t understand why it felt like this. Pink faintly appearing in her cheeks gave Corran the excuse to look away from her hazel eyes. He had seen people blush before. Why was it on her so fascinating? He didn’t think he had seen her flushed before. Except by heat or combat. Was it hot in here? He didn’t notice. When the Corellian woman beside him finally spoke, a galactic weight lifted off his chest. Time had restarted again. “An honor?” He chuckled, “Act formal like that around my mom and you’re liable to be hugged into oblivion. She likes open souls.” That was potentially an understatement. His mother melted through people like hot plasma. “She’s got an open-door policy. We can go see her anytime. Might be nice to see mom.”

Corran did a double-take when his partner rose from the table, taking the dirty dishes with her. “Hey. You don’t have to do that. At least let me help.” The young man trailed after her and nearly beat her to the sink. With only two sets of everything for dinner, plus only a pot and pan they used for cooking, it was a relatively quick affair. Between the drying rack and the sink itself, they were forced to stand practically shoulder to shoulder. Apprehension wasn’t as powerful before, given a task to focus on, but Corran’s eyes did glance towards the woman next to him every now and again. Mostly out of curiosity. Was this the real Bast? The woman behind the badge? So readily helpful, mildly bashful, and warm? What more was there? Some water splashed back on the two of them, getting their forearms wet. “Sorry about that,” the young man apologized, even if it wasn’t a direct fault of his own.

With the immediate chores done, the blond youth quickly dried his hands and gave Bast some sociable space. Mostly because he didn’t want to linger in her personable bubble. But also because of that grimy feeling that laid over his skin like a film. He turned his head to the gizka trap that laid stubbornly empty. “Well, we aren’t any closer to getting the Crimson flying again. Looks like you’ll be staying aboard for the night.” In space, it was always night except for near stars. On a 24 hour cycle though, it was getting about that time. Corran seemed to hesitate on what came next before finally saying it out loud, “I, uh, got kinda sweaty working on the engine earlier and chasing gizka. I’ll need to freshen up a bit before bed. But!... uh… But I can show you your quarters for the night first or if you need the refresher, you know. Whatever you need.” He cut himself off before he stumbled more. The young man rubbed the back of his head anxiously before sighing softly. This was more true to form for him. Without the badge to act as his guide, he was shy. But wasn't Bast Emblai one of his closest friends? All they had been through and he was still... like this. Maybe just talking might help after he cleaned up and didn't feel ashamed of his odor. Perhaps to get to know Bast, not just Ranger Emblai.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The kitchenette was not built for two, unless the two were wanting to be constantly brushing shoulders and bumping hips. Nevertheless, Bast did not back down from her position beside the sink. The discomfort of being in close proximity to her partner had begun to wear off as the awkwardness dissipated. They had fallen into a steady rhythm of washing and drying, and by the second glass, it was if the event was entirely routine. That was until Corran, who had been occasionally glancing over, accidentally splashed both of them. Giggling slightly at the surprise, she brushed off his apology with a subtle head shake and gentle smile. “No need to be. I appreciate the help.” Perhaps they were indeed half his dishes, but she had wanted to help. Sitting around make her feel nothing short of useless, and the unexplained urgency she felt meant that she had to be doing something. There was a deep desire to feel at home around him, as she so often did at work, and that could hardly be fulfilled by acting solely as a guest. He had brought her there for a purpose, not for company. Still- she had a hope, perhaps even a feeling, that he did not mind the company.

“Looks like you’ll be staying aboard for the night.” The words were friendly enough, just a simple statement of fact, but the implications knotted the woman’s stomach with apprehension. The Corellian at no point felt unsafe, but she knew that would not be enough to stop the nightmares. The ones where she screamed until her throat was raw, paralyzed in sleep and fear. She hoped she had her own quarters, though she doubted the walls were soundproof. Perhaps it was better to stay awake.

Corran’s stumbling brought her out of the contemplative stupor. Was he... nervous? Had she come on too strong? The woman had seen it in cantinas before, where one party would get overexcited while the other was interested in no more than a drink. Was all Corran wanted for his ship to be fixed? She felt guilty for not arranging a better trap, for hoping for a delay in rescue. She could ponder this throughout the sleepless night.

“No problem. Please do, in fact.” She doubted she smelled like roses herself. In an attempt to soothe the blonde man’s anxiety, she offered a warm smile, keeping her body language open. He had no reason to be shy in his own home, and a small bit of guilt settled in. She would make herself scarce if that was what would ease his sudden nerves.

Entering her quarters, she set her satchel down on a neatly made bunk and pulled out her extra clothes. Gazing into the mirror, she noticed her spinal prosthesis was painfully obvious. Perhaps that was what her shipmate had been looking at. Mouth twitching ever so slightly downwards, she moved out of profile and undressed. The warm water eased her tired muscles as soon as it cascaded down them. Taking a rare moment to relax, she inhaled the humid air deeply, letting her eyes close and her head roll back. Then, as quickly as she let herself go, she lathered soap in her hair and scrubbed clean, stepping out of the shower to be greeted by the cool air. Within a minute, she was dressed and her hair brushed, then plaited loosely. Perhaps it had been the moment to herself, but the attire atmosphere felt different, cozier, perhaps. A little more confidence graced her uneven step as she returned to the main hold.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Polite words and a kind, friendly smile eased much of the nervousness that had taken hold of the male Ranger. Even how she stood seemed welcoming. What was he so stressed about? Bast was the closest thing he had to a best friend out here. It can’t be too hard to be himself. She wouldn’t judge him too harshly, right? He realized his eyes had been looking at her body for a moment too long. Clearing his throat softly and angling away from Bast, he gestured to an adjacent hallway. “Right this way then.”

A short walk down the starship’s walkway led to the crew quarters area they had been earlier. It held four rooms total. The captain’s room, where Corran bunked, two crew or guest rooms, and one final room that had been a guest room but had been transformed into a temporary holding cell for any prisoners the Ranger brought aboard. None of them were luxurious by any means, but they provided some privacy and comfort – a rare commodity in space travel. “And here is your room for the time being. You’ll find the refresher adjacent to the sleeping quarters,” the blond youth said with a guiding gesture. The refresher was in between the two guest rooms, which for a full ship, would force two of them to share. That meant Bast had it all to herself. As a small mercy in this situation, Corran’s room had its own refresher, so there would be no awkwardness. With a polite nod, the young man retreated to his quarters. When the door finally sealed, a sigh released all the tension in his chest and shoulders. Maybe some time apart would allow a reorientation.

Hot water slammed onto Corran’s back like a waterfall. He had already scrubbed himself completely clean, but he had mastered the art of showering quickly aboard starships to allow himself some quiet time in the steamy warmth. He had been foolish. Bast had been nothing but there for him in every scenario. Even now as they drifted in space, she was there. There was no reason for his apprehension. He refused to even ask himself why he had been nervous. Going down that road offered no solutions. A fresh start. Experience and instinct told the former space trader that his time in the shower was up. It was time to be honest.

When Bast finally returned to the main hold, she would find the blond youth waiting for her there. Instead of a flight suit and athletic shirt, he would be in his usual attire. A casual shirt tucked into practical pants, themselves tucked into boots. His arms were folded and he leaned against the holotable. “Hey Bast,” Corran said in hesitant voice, “I’m… sorry about this whole thing. I’ve been a little awkward and almost inflexible.” He uncrossed his arms and stood upright, clearly presenting some practiced thoughts. “I’ve been treating you like we’re in the field. Wearing badges. Maybe even more stilted than that and you don’t deserve that.” He felt the urge to look away, to just end there. But he couldn’t. Bast was more than just a Ranger and it was time he was honest with her. He cleared his throat lightly, “Let’s start over. I invited you to help me because you’re my friend. Maybe the best one I have. More than that, you’re good company. It’s about time I acted like it.” Blue eyes expressed a genuine truth to his words. Although it made have seemed like this was sudden, to Corran, it was nearly everything unspoken since Outpost Blue. The Corellian's reaction remained to be seen. She could scoff at him, scold him for unprofessionalism, or even just outright reject him. It didn't matter. He had said his peace.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Bast’s shower was not particularly long, but by the time she was out, clad in an olive tee-shirt and joggers, Corran was already waiting. He had less hair to wash- surely that was why he had finished earlier, the woman mused. With a raised eyebrow and a smile she seated herself next to him, far enough away that the previous apprehension he seemed to have would be eased. Then she simply listened as her closest friend spoke.

He stood up, as if about to deliver a speech, yet, although the words were clearly planned and perhaps even rehearsed, she saw their truthfulness. It was in the way he talked, in his fight to maintain eye contact, in his nervous pauses. His words were a fair account from her perspective, but she had expected little more, having assumed this was a task to be completed like any mission they had been on. Despite her frivolous hopes.

The steady stream of warm water had also helped the woman concentrate, come to a recognition. She knew her love towards him was more than that of a coworker. The evidence was there. She had known it for awhile, the fear of the forbidden growing in the pit of her stomach since... it was difficult to put a date on. Yet she was not an amorous, passionate lover, like in the holonovels. She had work to do, to better the galaxy, be the hand of justice. There was no time for selfish affairs. The galaxy needed Corran, too. It needed his perseverance and courage. Would any commitment besides the mutually beneficial work agreement prevent their necessary work? The Corellian woman had never before considered her duty a burden. It had come first. Always. Even before her life. Yet... at the moment. There was no badge. No way to access those who needed help, no matter how much she wished there were, if only to provide an excuse to not be honest with the person she trusted the most. Perhaps he had been awkward, distant, but she had been as well, walking a tightrope between desire and obligation, pushing him away and pulling him close, leaving no room for the man to control or gauge the situation.

It would be up to him. He could never look at her again should he choose. The pain would be worse than a rancor bite, but it was bearable. Hazel eyes widened as he admitted she meant something to him. She was a good friend. The woman prayed to the suns that that would not change. Finally her gaze met the vibrant blue ones. Approaching with measured step, she wrapped both of her arms around his shoulders, one hand cradling his neck. Her heart beat heavily. She wondered if he could feel it. The words were unrehearsed this time. “Corran... I... I forgive you, but it’s never been your problem. You’re my most trusted friend and... nothing could change my care and love for you.“ Inhaling sharply, she waited for a response. Everything felt surreal, as if she were watching a soap opera on the holonet. The words seemed shallow, but she hoped her tone was enough to convey her meaning. The man had seen her cry, alone and weak in a hospital bed, had carried her limp body out of Outpost Blue, yet the moment was uniquely vulnerable. She had placed herself in a situation where she could have no control. Her trust fell entirely to the man she was embracing.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Time has ceased flowing. At first, Corran hadn't even registered that Bast was approaching him. Surely she would stop at the usual social distance. But then she kept coming. With each step nearer, the blond youth's command over his body slipped away. He couldn't move, or sit, or shift. Only breath and blink. Closer. Closer still. His breathing felt like it too was weakening - growing shallow. Her arms slid around his shoulders. A tender hand gripped the back of his neck. The Corellian woman was practically pressing against him. Was this real? The current situation hadn't even fully manifested to the young man's imprisoned brain - trapped in a body that refused orders. When she touched him, he didn't even tense up. His own heart was pounding strongly, masking or mimicking Bast's in kind. Then... she spoke.

Focused blue eyes, still trying to fathom it all, gazed into her own hazel ones as each word floated to his ears. Much of it seemed to be in line with reality - things his mind could grasp. She forgave him. A mercy, but the Corellian had forgiven him before for many of his self-diagnosed errors. Bast expressed that he was her most trusted friend. A subtle, bashful pink rose in his unmoving cheeks. While he had considered her the same, it was... humbling to hear it said aloud. Such a declaration alone would have been enough to still the energetic young man. But why she was she close? His thoughts couldn't piece together what this was all about. His mind felt hazy. Then... she finished her sentence. Corran now lost the ability to breath. His lips parted only barely, but no oxygen flowed in. The tough, independent, strong-willed former CorSec officer said she cared for him and... and... and... l-lo... loved... him. Arms hung limply at his side. Sky blue eyes remained glued to her face, but seemed to frost over. He didn't pull away or move closer, but remained still. A few, unbearable, silent seconds ticked by. His lip finally quivered; a sign of life. "W-what...? What... do you mean?"

It wasn't really a question. It was an utterance of shock and Bast would be able to recognize it. The similarity to people walking away from a speeder crash or being wounded for the first time. That rare type of confusion where the mind was trying to grapple with a new reality. Inside the shelter of the skull, Corran's thoughts raced for answers, battling between logic and passion. All this was a reaction to the stress of their stranding, right? Bast only cared for him as a friend, right? That's what she meant. Why is her hand on his neck, caressing him? He liked it. Kiss her. No, she is being supportive, like every time before. Take her. A primal command. A raw desire. No. Humanity fought against instinct. Love her - you always have. The other half of his mind pushed against that lie. It wanted it to be a lie. Memories raced through his mind like holo-stills. Jakku, at the bar. Outpost Blue. Tears running down his face. Holding her. A tender hand brushing blond hair back on Coruscant. Wind blowing against her dewy face on a dawn skyline. Then it all came to the now. The young man's eyes refocused, returning to the present. Through the mental chaos no answer had come.

He would have to find it. A shaky hand, clearly weak, reached up to rest on her hip. Fingers hesitated as they neared, before tenderly sliding into place. Even such a small touch felt alien. The blond youth scanned her face. Bast had never seemed more beautiful than in this moment. Even her eyes seemed more... alluring. But something pulled him back. Professionalism. Discipline. Restraint. Why? "Bast... I... don't know what... to say or... do," Corran's voice was soft and dry, nearly a whisper. A man grappling with the unknown and the sudden.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

Corran was limp in her arms. It was if her touch had frozen time. She could scarcely feel the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest against her own, his light exhales. His eyes, though, told a different story. They were wide and wild, searching the woman’s face frantically. The seconds were agonizingly long, almost unbearably so. His reaction was completely unreadable. There was no resistance to Bast’s overture, but he did not embrace her. He simply stood. They stood. Despite every urge to run, lock herself in her bunk and take cover, the Corellian woman stayed anchor to the ground, only swaying slightly as a round of dizzy panic overcame her. If she were to walk away, she must do it with dignity, head held high, step unhurried. Then she would upgrade the gizka trap and leave Corran in peace for the duration of the wait, saying a cordial farewell when the ship was towed to the nearest planet. Arms loosened slightly. All he had to do was step away. But Corran did not. Only his lip moved, quivering, on the edge of a word.

"W-what...? What... do you mean?"

The blond man’s words did not seem his own. She had heard them before when she arrived at the scene of a homicide and interviewed traumatized witnesses, when she was called to a mass accident or had to reassure a child who had been caught in gang crossfire, shot in the chest. It was shock. There was no point in answering. The boy she was gazing upon was drowning in the implications of his new reality. And she was helpless to save him. Relinquishing her grip, the woman swallowed but did not step back and began to gather courage for her exit.

At the moment she was about to step back, Bast felt hesitant, gentle touch on her hip. Her body, arching with surprise, shifted forward again slightly. The touch was electric. Hazel eyes flicked back up to her partner’s face, but his expression was still difficult to decipher. His presence, his warmth, surrounded her, his hand on her hip almost burning hot, and his body so close she doubted the blade of a vibroknife could fit between them. The lighting gave his pale hair an ethereal glow.

"Bast... I... don't know what... to say or... do.” The words were quiet, private. She wondered again if she should take her leave, but leaving the man she cared about stunned and alone seemed cruel. Instead, she took his other arm and guided it around her waist, sliding it over the soft fabric to directly over her prosthetic.

“That’s okay. I’ll wait with you until you do. Until you want me gone... or...” Trailing off, she would wrap both arms around his neck and rest her head against his chest, giving Corran every chance to move away. The silence was more comforting than it had been previously. They were only two people, stranded on a ship, adrift.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Everything felt so stagnate. As if reality itself was adrift in the vacuum of space and not just the Crimson Venture. In a way, only Corran’s mind and heart still functioned. They alone obeyed his thoughts and will. It had taken immense amount of will to move his own had to her hip. It had taken immense strength just to show some physical expression of comfort to the Corellian woman. But that’s not how he felt. Everything just felt so… heavy. Bast’s hand gripped his other limp arm and slid it across the small of her back, finally coming to rest on the prosthetic spine. The male Ranger’s fingers remembered how the artificial implant felt. They recognized it from carrying her out of Outpost Blue. From this memory, strength began to return to the young man’s body.

Arms wrapped around his neck and Bast’s head laid softly against his chest. While this would have certainly caused him to seize up again, what she said to him… it reinforced the drive to regain control. To be present. It started subtly. The fingers that had first rested on her hip flattened out against her waist. That warm hand then slid around her back to join with the other she had placed there. Using the returning strength, Corran tenderly compressed her against him. An undeniable embrace. At Outpost Blue, he couldn’t leave her behind. Now, he didn’t want her to leave him.

Corran’s command over his being had returned, though faint but growing. He swallowed to clear his throat. “Bast…” The voice was dry and quiet, “I’ll never want you gone…” A gentle squeeze, as if trying to draw her impossibly closer, punctuated his words. They had been through so much. Things other people wouldn’t understand or even imagine. He didn’t have words to describe how irreplaceable she was in his life. So he had to say the ones that mattered to him most. “When we’re together… everything will be alright.” Blue eyes glanced downward, weakly searching the Corellian woman’s face for understanding. Her plain words had stunned him worse than any blaster. He wish he knew why. But even as he held her, as his thoughts came to grips with this new reality, a tapping at the back of his mind warned. It was warning about something. Why wouldn’t it become clear? Soon, he figured, it would all come back to him as he regained composure. For now, though, he only wanted to reassure her. Reassure Bast. Instinctively, the young man tilted his head down and would kiss the forehead of the woman in his arms. A nurturing, comforting touch. One long overdue from all the danger and hurt he had put her through. “Thank you…” It was a heart-felt whisper.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The woman’s heartbeat echoed Corran’s. Steady. His chest rose and fell gently. She closed her eyes, just for a moment. The warm hand still hovered over her waist, barely touching. Ever so slowly, it glided over to join the one at the small of her back. Even the light brush sent chills down her spine. There was no doubt he could feel the cool metal that rose in ridges above her burning skin, yet he held it too. There was no disgust in his eyes, no indication that he had even noticed he was cradling a woman who was not entirely flesh. No recoiling when he felt her prosthesis. Instead, he drew Bast closer. Pressed up against his body in the embrace, she caught a faint whiff of soap. The Corellian woman barely breathed, worried she would miss her partner’s words if she shifted in the slightest. The quiet rasp. “I’ll never want you gone...” The firm grip grew tighter. They were chest to chest. Bast opened her eyes and looked up. The young man’s pale brow was furrowed. One delicate hand stroked the back of his head. His golden hair was still slightly damp.

When we’re together, everything will be alright. The comfort of the embrace reinforced Corran’s words. He was right. He had carried her, barely alive and consciousness fading from her living hell. The tenderness in the man had not faded. She had held his hand when he had been shot, gone in every day, sometimes even more to try and see him. The speeder crash. The shootouts. They had survived.

Soft lips pressed against Bast’s forehead, the touch lighter than that of a feather. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening. Had he... kissed her? Blood flooded her face. The gesture was inviting yet placating. What in all the suns could he mean by it? Girlish excitement and something more primal filled the woman. She pressed against him more urgently. Hazel eyes wildly drank in his face before she closed them once more. The hands snaked around the man’s neck drew his head downwards as she straightened to meet him. Mouths connected in a light but fervent kiss. She felt dizzy again. The brush of affection was brief, but it meant everything. She had risked... everything. Drawing back, Bast swallowed and slid her hands down his arms. Her face was unreadable- no visible fear or infatuation. The mask was on once again, but is grew ever closer to slipping off completely.


@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

A feeling of calm had settled on the blond youth. It felt nice to finally express the type of gratitude that he had always held for Bast. She had been there for him, both in vigor and in pain, since he practically got his badge. Only this way could come close to thanking her. The woman pressed against his person more tightly than before, if that was even possible. It was her eyes though. Those hazel eyes that seemed frantic, but focused, on him. Corran didn't know what that look meant, but it froze him. When Bast closed her eyes, he was more puppet than man. What... was happening?

Two arms around his neck tugged the young man downwards. The brunette woman rose to meet him with equal measure. All of it felt like an out-of-body experience, as if Corran was watching the event happen in third person. They drew closer. Surely they would stop. Closer. Stop any second now. Closer still. What... was happen-- Lips collided. All sensation drained from blond youth's body. Everything was numb. Pacified. Only... her lips. They were so... soft and warm. In a way that he couldn't have believed. Bast Emblai was so stoic, rigid, and reserved. Her kiss was the antithesis of that person in every way. Corran's body closed its eyes. It absentmindedly and instinctively wanted it to last. Wanted more. Just as his lips moved to press against hers, she pulled away. Instantaneously, the young man's spirit reentered his body and blue eyes blinked open, waking from the dream.

In his vision, the Corellian woman stood apart from him. Her face indecipherable. The silence would have been uncomfortable if it had been anyone else, but even now, it didn't feel disrupted or alien. Bast was still... her. Corran straightened his back slowly, pulling himself from the lean in that had enabled their embrace. Back inside his own body, the young man had no idea what to make of it. What had happened. His lips tingled. Still, Bast stood unmovable. Like she was uneasy. As every time before, the blond youth felt compelled to reach out to her. "Bast?" He asked carefully, his voice gentle, "It's... It's alright, Bast." Corran wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her. He even extended his hand but hesitated, before drawing it back in. This was as uncharted as the Unknown Regions. "I'm sorry." He didn't know why he was apologizing. It just felt like he had messed up somehow. Like he was in trouble.

On the far wall sat the holobooks, organized by topic. Sky blue eyes glanced at them ever so briefly. That tugging feeling at the back of Corran's mind kept drawing his attention that way. Why? What was he forgetting? Then he drew his eyes back to Bast. A collision of emotions wrestled in his chest. Ones he knew well and others he didn't have a name for. The event that happened moments ago felt distant now. She had... kissed him. Even the thought felt imaginary. "Bast... are you okay?" Corran asked sincerely, taking a step closer. He didn't want her to shut down or... or whatever this is. She didn't need to be afraid. He would never, ever, toss her aside. They were more than that. They were... partners.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The passion that had flared up so quickly in Bast returned to a small flame, lingering in the pit of her stomach. No longer could she stifle it lest it burn her. As the woman’s head stopped spinning, the blush receded from her face, the steady warmth in her chest keeping her from escaping back to a place of comfort. Back to her quarters. Back five minutes. But that place was gone, replaced by a new and fascinating reality she was terrified to explore. Corran had pressed his lips to hers for a moment- willingly, even wantingly. Yet he was tense. Something was pressing on his mind, keeping his hands tied. That was why she backed away.

“Bast?” Hazel eyes flicked up to his face. He was her partner. He... could not love her back in that way. She outranked him. Was that why Corran had frozen up, moved so mechanically. She suddenly felt sick, as if the baked cushnip and fral did not agree with her. Had she betrayed the trust of her closest confidant? A tentative arm reached out, then retreated. She wanted nothing more than his comforting embrace.

“Don’t be sorry. It was my doing. Corran...” Word trailed off into thought. Bast swallowed. The air was thick, no longer the same atmosphere she had gotten impulsively intoxicated off of. No. She was entirely sober. Yet, the feeling did not go away.

His blue eyes flicked to the bookshelf. Perhaps she did know what was holding him back, even before he did. Slowly, she approached the case and ran her hands down the spines of the holobooks. An Abridged History of the Sector Rangers. Sector Ranger Bylaws, Vol VI. A Guide to Interplanetary Law and Justice. Finally the nimble fingers settled on Regulations for Sector Rangers: a Series of Precedents and pulled it out. Scanning his face she extended the book towards him, letting him take it.

“This is what is fettering you, is it not?” Her words were soft but analytical. “We both live for the badge. We both wear it proudly. But it adorns neither of us now.” With that, she took Regulations for Sector Rangers and slid it back onto the shelf, replacing its place with her hands. She took a deep breath. “Corran, what is... this?”

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

When Bast brushed away his apology, the young man grew silent. He felt apprehensive, unsure of what to do next. What was it that she felt right now? Guilt? Shame? Awkwardness? Corran didn't want her to feel any of those things, yet he felt powerless to speak. The atmosphere of the room, once a fuzzy and titillating aura, now seemed like static; confusing and disorienting. Without another word, Bast seemed to be drawn towards the storage shelves on the wall. Documents, holobooks, datadrives, and more filled the shelves. Everything from trivial fiction to in-depth bylaws; a whole spectrum of information. She spread her fingers across the latter section before stopping on one final tomb.

Hazel eyes scanned the blond youth for a moment before finally extending the Regulations for Sector Rangers: a Series of Precedents to him. He didn't take the holobook, but kept still. Like a holy symbol warding off a demon, he dared not approach. That manual was one of the first things he ravenously read through after being inducted into the Rangers. Their code. Expected conduct. Rules of engagement. Jurisdictions. The young man read it often and used it as his guide in many a situation. Though for this one, he feared it. In gentle but methodical words, the Corellian got to the heart of it. He didn't even realize that it was the heart of it. It was all becoming clearer in his conscious mind. His discipline ran so deep that it restrained him even when his whole will didn't want to be. Bast startled him by taking his hands in hers and asking a question with no answer.

At first, the young man didn't move. His warm hands clasped hers. His breath was shallow, like a child that had finished crying. Blue eyes glanced to own hazel, before slowly drifting to the regulatory text over her shoulder. Corran closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. "I don't know what this is." He took a half-step back and pulled one hand out of her grasp. Curiously though, the other stayed firmly in hers and even seemed to hold tighter. When the male Ranger opened his eyes again, they were as rigid as durasteel. "It isn't for me to know. The Regulations for Sector Rangers clearly prohibits favoritism, nepotism, and strongly suggests against... against..." He struggled to say the word at first. "...fraternization." That was a euphemism the text used. A single world covered the gambit of all relationships that might lead Rangers to be reckless in the field. Endangering themselves, each other, or their objectives by letting emotions, romantic or otherwise, overtake their duty. This was the carbonite rod to which Corran clung to, even now.

And yet...

His hand still held onto hers. Maybe the young man didn't even realize it. His words quoted the regulations, but his physical actions told another story. That Bast was... different. A glitch in the system. Someone the rigid, dutiful, professional Ranger before her didn't know how to label. How to organize in the clearly defined boxes others were placed in. Without the badges on, they were still law enforcement officers and they were still partners. Corran didn't want that to go away, but his oath was his life. He'd never surrendered it to anything. In the reflection of his sky blue eyes, Bast would see it. Uncertainty in what to do, but certainty for her to stay.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

“I don’t know what this is.”

Words that cut so sharp from such soft lips. Bast flinched. The coldness in his voice froze the embers that had been burning low in her chest. The Corellian woman swallowed and furrowed her brow. The hand Corran released fell limply to her side. She felt stiff. Tired. Must she defend her actions? She had suffered a lapse of discipline. She regretted it. Yet, perhaps, the nagging at the back of her thoughts meant no such regret filled her mind. Perhaps, she did not regret it. What kind of ranger would that make her? Irrational? Emotion- driven? Lorcan had been emotion driven and he’d risked her life as well as that of the suspect. The man had rightfully resigned. Was she to as well? Was this all a child’s fantasy? Was this another sign that the wrong ranger had survived at The Outpost?

Before a word could escape from the tightly pressed lips, her partner began. Each line from the Regulations seemed to separate them by another step, until they were parsecs apart. The woman’s own thoughts echoed them back, the words memorized and taken to heart. “Favoritism and nepotism are prohibited as these displays of affection will compromise a Sector Ranger’s decision making abilities in the field” Section 27 E. “Fraternization is to be greatly discouraged should such relations cause a Ranger to betray his or her oath bound duties” Section 27 J. The entirety of section 27 was devoted to relationships, though romantic relations were never explicitly mentioned.

Perplexingly, despite the man’s words, one warm, comforting hand still grasped hers, a small remnant of their embrace. His words were clipped and clear, but confusion was just as visible in his eyes as hurt had been in her own. If Corran shared her desires, nothing expressly forbade it. Only mutual caution and steadfastness were obstacles.

Eventually, the woman resigned herself to the seats, gently leading her partner by the hand. She would not press him any further for the time being. Leaning back against the seat, she brought his hand to where her badge typically lay.

“I would never as you to forsake this. Whatever this is, we will remain partners first.”



@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Rules were meant to make things clear cut. Black and white. Simple and clean. This is how order was maintained and how Corran structured his adult life. But there were things rules couldn’t answer. Things that could not be neatly packaged. Bast Emblai, her face melancholic and tired, was one of those things. Yes, she was a fellow Sector Ranger. Abided by all the same codes and oaths he did. And yet... she was more than that. Friend. Comrade. Lov- The memory of their lips pressed together came and went like a passing speeder in the night. What his mind was struggling to conclude was that Bast Emblai couldn't fit in a box. She wasn't easily defined; no system Corran had could categorize her. Worse yet, his feelings didn't want to define the trusted woman. If he did, it meant giving something up. They were coworkers and loyal partners. Best friends who could always count on one another. Close. Bonded in a way that didn't fit between either of those. He refused to surrender anything and so limbo prevailed.

It took only the gentlest tug of his hand to get the blond ranger to follow. Command of his body remained tenuous and her guidance felt... right. He mirrored her and sat beside the Corellian in the booth of the common area. At first, he didn't understand but had no will to speak. It had been so hard before. Blue eyes followed his own hand as she led it upward to her chest. His eyes grew into dinner plates as his palm pressed over her heart. His own started beating faster. What did all this lead to? Bast soon told him.

She was doing it again.

Enduring things she didn't have to... for his sake.

The blond youth's eyes drifted up her hazel gaze. There was a determination there. She was stubborn, like him. Whatever this was would be covered by the badge. Like a vault door. Protected, sealed, and preserved but not free. Partners they would remain. A truce until things could be figured out. The young man's lower lip visibly trembled as he fought to speak. "Thank... Thank you, Bast," he finally managed. Each word weighed a metric ton and yet his words sounded as soft as a feather. Corran's touch on her chest lingered as he continued to stare. It wasn't absentminded. There was a fear in him that this could be the last touch they'd ever share. So it stayed.

SNAP!

One of the lizard stowaways had fallen into the baited trap. The sudden noise forced Corran to instinctively turn his head and pull his hand away. Probably for the best. It could have stayed there forever. The male ranger cleared his throat and glanced back over his shoulder. "We should.. uh, ahem... should go check that out." The practical world returned.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

His hand was warm on her chest. Strong. It was an anchor to keep her floating away into dissociated indifference. For the first time, the man seemed relaxed, not high on the intoxicating air of urgent attraction, nor under the dead wait of hesitation and regret. They simply were. Together. Out of the haze into the clear night. They had all night. They could remain this way all night. But they would not. She would return to her own quarters and he his. He would sleep while she lay awake, lost in thoughts and memories better forgotten. He would wake up, and all the walls that separated them would be rebuilt. Cordial smiles and businesslike attitudes would serve to guard the locked away, unclassified emotions. The Corellian woman had taken her chance- confronted her demons. Her partner was not ready to, and she had no choice but to be content. Still, she hoped there would be more than a respectful greeting in the morning. Something- some hint of what had happened between them to remind her it had not been a cruel dream.

Hazel eyes stared softly back at blue. The darker pair were slightly wet, but the face bore a tender smile. “You’re welcome.“ She could feel a new worry radiating off of him. “I will not leave you. Not in the field, not at your bedside, not alone.“ Cool hands ran over his shoulders and travelled down to his wrist, steadying it. Bast was far from being at peace, but the man opposite her need not know. The artificial spine could cope with the new heaviness in her chest.

A sudden noise caused Bast’s head to whip towards the door, her heart racing. The quiet was gone. She was up before Corran could even speak. Chuckling coldly at her own jumpiness, she strode towards the trap and shot the gizka cleanly, then, methodically rethread the rope and brushed the remaining crumbs into a neat pile. “Two down and... what do you wager... fifteen more to go?. I um... I can take night shift.” The excuse was frail, but perhaps Corran would be too otherwise occupied to notice. If she fell asleep, she would no doubt wake him in one of her fitful dreams, and she did not wake gently or peacefully. “What do you say?”


@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

She never ceased to impress. Without a word, Bast had taken care of business and even prepared the trap for another kill. Sector Ranger made have been her true calling, but pest control might have been a distant second. As he watched her ready the trap once more, his gaze lingered on her profile. Well, maybe modeling is a closer second. His own mental discipline smacked him across the face, forcing his head to abruptly turn as if he had actually been slapped. It wasn't right to think of her like that. Mercifully the Corellian's quip eased the situation she wasn't aware of. "Fifteen? We can only hope to be so lucky with gizka," a forced smirk appeared on Corran's face.

Night shift. Right. Blue eyes glanced around in an attempt to flutter off anxiety. He could handle this. This was a practical task and with Bast, they had never faltered on completing objectives. Corran cleared his throat and nodded, "Yeah. You can take night shift. That works for me." He rose rigidly and brushed his hands off on his pants even though they weren't dirty. Like a droid without programming inputs, the blond youth stood there awkwardly. A light bulb sparked above his head. "Oh! One thing." He gestured for Bast to stay put as he sped-walked out of the common area and towards the crew quarters. After a few moments, Corran returned with a blanket in hand and offered it to her. "Here. You know. If it gets cold." That was unlikely but being on an adrift vessel, anything was possible.

Once again, Corran stood there with his hands on his hips and awkwardly silent. It wasn't for something logical or any reason in his head. His whole being commanded him not to leave. But his rational and professional brain countered swiftly. It's not your shift. Return to quarters. About-facing and departing was weird though. Something of an exit was required. "Um," the young man rubbed the back of his head, "There's also water in the fridge in the kitchenette. If you get thirsty. Some caf in the cupboards. I don't... uh... drink it. So all yours. Snacks too." He cleared his throat and took a few backward steps. "If you need anything tonight," Corran emphasized, "My room is just down the hall." That thought had come out faster than his mind could approve it. It was innocent enough. At first. When the second possibility dawned, the young man flushed pink. Daring not to point it out, he turned on a heel and strode down the hallway to the captain's quarters. Once out of view and his bedroom door shut, a self-punishing hand smacked his forehead. "Stupid. Stupid." No matter how you sliced it, it was going to be a long night.

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

She had given him a clear opportunity to exit, yet Corran stayed. His body and expression as still as if they had been preserved in carbonite. She remained equally steady. The passionate flitting about from earlier had sunk into a hard resignation. She could not deny she had felt something beyond kinship, but she would live in the reality that its expression had been a passing moment. Hopefully, he would not think less of her because of her lapse, albeit a calculated and intentional one, in judgement. Even when not behind the badge, discipline left a shatterproof film between the partners.

Blanket in hand, Bast nodded. She’d likely need to eat something to stay awake. With than, the young man left, pausing a moment to tell her to get him if anything was needed. “Alright. Sleep well.” It would be at least another eight hours until someone noticed they were missing.

It was dark. The frequent blink of controls and emergency lights dimly lit the room. The woman waited in silence. She considered taking a holobook from the shelf. Bright Horizons: Planet of Passion or Huttese to Basic Dictionary? That was a simple choice. A small smirk appeared as she considered the prospect of the stoic man reading romance. Perhaps it was simply a cover for classified files. Perhaps. Learning a bit of huttese could not hurt. The minutes ticked by slowly. She draped the blanked over her shoulders. The woman’s eyelids grew heavy. She stood up, paced. Got water. Sat down. Stood up. Why hadn’t she gotten more sleep the night before? The snap of the rope would call her attention to the trap if need be. She should rest.

Any inhibitions about laying prone in a place that was not hers immediately vanished as Bast curled around the bench. And then she lost control.

——
The ship was coasting smoothly. Orn sat opposite her. "Take a deep breath, I got your six in there you got mine..keep your eyes up and your head low.." There were eight seats on each side, facing each other in neat parallel lines. Several men were making bets on how many kills they’d get. She chuckled. This was her first frontal assault. She was practically a rookie compared to the seasoned officers that surrounded her. Perhaps she would emerge with them in glory. With a new base. Perhaps even as a lieutenant.

They were in the halls. Three men down. Heavy losses. In between the flurries of blaster fire she called out orders. They were flanked. The man at her feet shifted, groaning in pain. But it was no man. It was Falynn, weakly coughing up blood, the trail down her chin and neck as red as the tips of her hair. Bast knelt. Shook her. Nothing. Pulse. Nothing. Something singed her hair. She dove back. Shot down the hall to no avail.

There were suddenly only two men left. Orn provided cover as she ran to the door. He lifted it. They were safe. The nearest exit seemed to be a maintenance door. "I wouldn't mind staying in this room with you for a bit.” The detective rolled her eyes, which were still slightly wet. They must carry on. They must take the base. Something tugged at the back of her mind.

@TerranSteel

 

[Corran Velt]

Water splashed against Corran's face. He cupped his hands under the faucet once again, let them fill, and then splashed again. It was supposed to be soothing. A cleansing of the mind. His hands gripped the edges of the sink within the captain's quarters. Water dripped off his chin as he stared into the mirror. Sleep had been illusive. It was supposed to be his time to rest before the next watch and it had only come in fits and starts. Alert, tired eyes stared back from the mirror. Thoughts plagued him. The kind he didn't want to dwell on. Like what exactly had happened earlier. What it meant. If it meant anything. The clone of Corran in the mirror didn't have answers either. It just stared back with furrowed brow.

A firm hand gripped the handle of the faucet and forced it back to end the rushing water. The young ranger clasped a nearby towel and dabbed his face. He held it there, like a child hiding their face in a pillow, before sighing heavily. Why couldn't things be simple? Throwing the towel back on its holder, Corran walked back into his bedroom and stopped at the foot of his bed. Trying another wrestling match with slumber didn't seem enticing. A small, metal, object glimmered from the nightstand. A Sector Ranger badge. There was comfort in it. The rules it enforced and made. The right way to do things was so clear behind that badge.

On the other hand...

He had met Bast because of that badge. They were so alike. Things complex were made simple - felt simple around her. So many impossible hurdles had been overcome because when they were together, everything would turn out alright. Against his tired face, a small grin pushed its way forward. Criminal gangs. Drug smugglers. Bloody pirates. Compared to these, what was the complications of their... bond? Just as before, everything would turn out alright. Just like when he put on the badge, a certainty welled in his chest.

Wait. What was that? A thud here. A scuffle there. It sounded like it was coming from the common area. Had the trap snagged another gizka or were they all coming out of the woodwork now? Corran tossed on a shirt and buckled up some practical pants and explored cautiously down the hallway, keeping a hand on the wall. "Bast? Are you okay?"

@Kestrel

 

[Bast Emblai]

The door slid open. She knew something was wrong before her eyes could adjust to the new light. There were three men. “Hands up!” They complied. Still... something felt off. A shadow moved behind Orn. She tried to warn him, but no words came. Only a scream. A blade glided across his neck, unleashing a stream of scarlet. Suddenly there was a hand over her mouth. She tried to bite down. She was knocked back. Her head hit the ground hard. Everything went black.
She came to. One man knelt on her chest while binding her arms. She tried to roll up and kick, but someone else grabbed her ankles with a vice grip and tied them together in an unnatural position with a cord. Her blaster must have been knocked away. Twisting and writhing like a caught eel, she still couldn’t manage to slip any rope. She was sweating. Her throat was raw but she couldn’t have been screaming. She could barely breathe.

A pirate laughed and began a hologram. The man holding her yanked on her hair to make her look up. She vomited. "Pathetic..you send these men to hunt us, and we killed them all...except for her. End this petty battle and your acts of aggression against us, and maybe we will release her." It was all going too fast and too slow. She was paralyzed.

The sound of a gizka triggering the trap fell on unhearing ears. The woman’s eyes were wide and blank, her breathing heavy.

She was in another room. Blindfolded. Surrounded by pirates. Someone drew a vibroblade. She could hear the hum. It grew closer. They didn’t want information. She was just their plaything.

Bast cried out. The woman had risen, the blanket left in a heap on the floor.

The quiet buzz was too close. She could feel it vibrating the air. She needed to run.

The technicalities and inconsistencies of the situation were lost on the shaken woman as she picked up the blaster used for the gizka hunt and backed against a wall. She would not let them take her. They’d have to kill her first.

@TerranSteel