Hyperspace Lanes

[Apocrypha]

"If you insist," he said, following in her wake, a smile gracing his lips.

Of course she would insist; she was a rather demanding woman, and - whether or not she knew it - a very good person, at her core. The unease she felt at returning to the Jedi - even just docking on a world that hosted the Order - virtually radiating off of her. As he caught up, he placed a hand on the small of her back and again did his best to soothe her worries; one of the up-sides to being rather at peace yourself was that you always had a little excess positivity to lift up your friends with. "Thank you," he murmured to her, his voice aching with understanding.

At the mention of having something to show him - and something he would like - Rorik quirked a brow and cracked a near-juvenile grin. "Were I a more crude man, I might misinterpret that statement, you know." Regardless, the pair - a former Jedi and her Jedi accomplice - walked side-by-side back to the former's ship, spared hardly a glance by the odd Bakuran - or otherwise - passerby.

 

[Bee]

Vica had no doubts about whether or not she was a good person. By her own standards - ones that tended to frown upon excessive bloodshed, cruelty to animals, and harming children - she was wonderful. But when it came to what the Jedi stood for, patience and temperance and all that honest junk, she couldn't help but feel as though she fell short. And that was okay. It had taken her a long time to realize that. The ship they were heading toward was a standard-looking YT-1300f, painted a drab gray, that looked old but well cared for. It had been in her associate's family for generations, or so he'd said, but Vi wasn't sure how true that was. Either way, she promised to return it by week's end, no worse for the wear, and her word was usually something she tried to adhere to. "Don't mention it." Because really, the number of times she'd come to his aid was already starting to add up, and she didn't need a reminder.

Approaching the freighter, she laughed at his suggestion, her voice dropping lower in case anyone (like Orlaan) was nearby to eavesdrop. "Maybe that's exactly the point." She'd intended for it to sound so ridiculously suggestive that there was no way she could be serious, but it didn't quite come out that way. "There's nothing wrong with being crude, you know." Trying to laugh it off, she unlocked the boarding ramp and stepped inside, waiting for him to pass through before locking it down.

 

[Apocrypha]

Entering the auxiliary tube-like hallway of the freighter, Rorik chuckled. "It isn't a particularly Jedi-like trait, I'm afraid," he replied, moving on to the cabin of the ship and stowing his leather sack inside of a compartment. No need to let it get jostled about during their extra-planetary travel - or, more likely, their jump to hyperspace. Straightening out and turning to face her, he clasped his hands behind his back, going on in feigned indignity; "I'm fond of our teachings, personally." A subtle wink, however, assured her that he teased in jest; while he did not approve of what he suspected to be her primary source of income, he had no cause to bring her to justice as of yet - and, hopefully, never would. Regardless of their personal levels of talent in combat, Rorik had reservations about whether or not he'd be able to clap restraints on the woman, if push came to shove.

"So what is it you'd like to show me?" he inquired politely, shunning his current train of thought. Dwelling on what might be did him no good; best to stay centered and focused on the present, the here and now, where things tended to happen.

 

[Bee]

Flirting was something that came naturally to her - be it because of her heritage, or because she was just a decent-looking girl with a lot of practice - and so she found no reason to stop, moving closer until the space they shared was less friendly and more on the intimate side. Draping an arm over his shoulder, she bit her lip. "I could teach you some things," she tried to say with a straight face, before the facade dissolved into a brief fit of laughter. It wasn't untrue, unless he had some secret history as a womanizer behind him, but even Vi couldn't say it without realizing how ridiculous it sounded. Granted, if he seemed keen to take her up on the offer, she probably wouldn't say no.

Pulling away, she swung the bag off her shoulder, unzipping it with a smile that was, despite her best attempts, a bit eager. She didn't know what he'd think about the item that laid inside, but had it been her lightsaber - at least, she assumed it was his; it felt like him, as odd as that was - she might actually be glad to see it. But knowing her luck, it'd be a reminder of something Rorik didn't want to remember. Pausing, her hand in the backpack and her fingers around the cold metal hilt, Vi paused. "I went digging around on Pash's ship." Admitting it, her lips twisted in a wry little smile. "I couldn't help myself. I'm sure you understand. But.. I found something? I think it might be yours."

Granted, she wasn't quite as in tune with the Force as she had been, or as he was now. Still, it had to be his - unless he had a twin out there somewhere. Producing the hilt of what she hoped was his lightsaber, she held it out and watched him closely.

 

[Apocrypha]

Her idle flirtation - while it was rather pleasant - only elicited a chuckle from Rorik as well; the woman could surely be sultry and seductive when it pleased her, but he felt there was a bit too much of an easiness between the two of them to put on such a show... particularly after their 'reunion' on Bakura. He'd never gone from suspicious to aroused so damn quickly - but then, he'd never spent much time with the fairer sex, either; ever the book nerd, he made few friends on Coruscant and Tython, even fewer of them of the female persuasion.

Either way, he watched her retrieve an object - and then gaped in awe as it was presented to him. His mouth hung slightly open in surprise, his mind numbed from shock; this seemed improbable - neigh, impossible. Why had Pash Malo held on to Rorik's lightsaber for so long? The sheer sentimental value of stealing them from his prey? Perhaps as a spiteful reminder that he had failed to murder the boy. Regardles... to see it here, now, brought a flood of memories and a current of emotion into Rorik's heart and mind.

He took the worn hilt into his hands and merely stared at it for several long moments... anyone that had known the Bothan would recognize the lightsaber, for it was near enough a carbon copy of his own, all uniform ridges and polished durasteel and black rubberized grips - no ignition plate on the exterior, so that only a Force user could activate it, with a waterproof casing around the power cell so that it could be used underwater. His current lightsaber boasted none of these upgrades, nor did it hold as much sentimental value, and yet... he felt content. The ache of loss, the bitter sting of losing the Bothan no longer haunted him.

For the first time in over a decade, Rorik came to understand that he was truly beyond the anguish of his past. He was a new man.

Though, with a glint in his eyes, he activated the internal ignition plate and the lightsaber roared to life, spitting forth its gorgeous green blade, bathing the two of them in its light. He swished it to and fro for just a moment, admiring its familiarity, before closing it down. Wordlessly, he drew the woman into his embrace, his chin tucked against her shoulder.

"Thank you so much."

 

[Bee]

Worst case scenario, he'd give her and the lightsaber a blank look, she'd feel like an idiot, and that would be the end of it. And while Vica tried not to be overly negative, she did definitely prepare for the worst - mentally or otherwise - regardless of the situation, and let that hopeful look fade away as she held the hilt out to him. But she hadn't expected such an emotional reaction, and the way he embraced her caught her off guard. Still, she wrapped her arms around him, cheek against his hair, and laughed. "Tch. I told you to stop saying that." Okay, so she'd told him 'not to mention it' - not to stop thanking her - but the meaning was the same, or at least it was to her. The idea that she'd been helping him out for nothing in return was weird to her, and being reminded of it made her feel just.. uneasy. Unsure. Not good.

"Get comfortable," she said after a minute, enjoying the closeness before stepping back. "I need to take a look at the hyperdrive, or we're not going anywhere." Bag in hand, she moved past him to make her way down the corridor, through the service access panel, and to where that poor, malfunctioning hyperdrive was housed. The repair wasn't a major one, a couple loose cables that crippled it's capacity to make the jump to lights peed, rather than anything that would require a full replacement. Vica was almost certain her so-called 'friend' had let her take the thing knowing it was on the fritz, but she couldn't prove it, and it wasn't as though she had to pay for the parts to get it fixed, anyway. It took about twenty minutes, start to finish, before she emerged and moved toward the cockpit, peeking around corners as she went. "We're ready to go when you are," she called out, before easing into the pilot's chair with a comfortable sigh.

 

[Apocrypha]

"Good timing," he remarked with a wink from the co-pilot's chair. "I've just cleared us for launch on vector 1A-A-19 from docking command - not that it would particularly matter if we just burnt sky without so much as a goodbye. They're a bit pre-occupied here, I'm sure you noticed... it seemed more polite to follow standard protocol, though." Rorik strapped himself in and assisted Vi with the routine motions of warming up the engines and sublight drive, tearing out into the atmosphere - and then took over with the jump coordinate plotting.

"I'm sure you know the way," he remarked, paying attention to his plotting vidscreen, "but on the off chance that we've got Imperial tails, I'd rather put them through a few hoops and throw them off of our trail before we plot straight for Arbra or Anoth." A fairly routine trick picked up during his Outer Rim travels - but an important one, if you hoped to keep stragglers off your back. Following a ship's lightspeed vectors was easier than sin, if they were just breezily blasting from A to B along predesignated routes.

Regardless, Vi might be somewhat surprised to note that Rorik, in all his Jedi-ness, knew anything at all about ships. Truth was he had a natural talent for, and a love of, machines; tinkering, tinkering, tinkering was one of his favorite passtimes - not practiced nearly as often these days, sadly - and he knew a thing or two about most classes of ship, their parts, and other various mechanical objects, from droids to swoop bikes and landspeeders. It was a hobby, at any rate.

 

[Bee]

His competence was refreshing. Not that she'd surrounded herself with stupid people, just ones who didn't know much about ships in general, and it was always nice to feel like if things went horribly wrong it wouldn't be entirely on her to set them straight. In the years she'd been flying she'd yet to have any incidents outside of a glitchy navicomp, so there was no real precedent for the anxiety, but as commonplace as it was she'd always respected the things she asked her ships, even if they weren't really 'hers' at all, to do. Taking thousands of pounds of metal up through the atmosphere, through jump lanes, and back again was an incredible thing - if she didn't know better she'd call it magic - and as lonely as it was, deep space was really kind of her home at this point. Or a second home, behind her sad little apartment on Nar Shaddaa. "Someone's eager to get going." Indulging in a slow stretch, she sat up and took a good look at the console, stifling a yawn. "If I didn't know better I'd probably be a little offended."

The way her hands moved over the panels before her implied a serious familiarity, the way one might know the settings of their cooking droid or the combination to a home they'd lived in for years. Jedi stuff aside, technology was her thing: while not a passion, it was something she was just good at, something she understood on a basic level, and something she picked up rather quickly, all things considered. Sure, she wasn't making droids in her spare time or modding ships on the side for cash - though it wasn't exactly a bad idea to start - but she appreciated their inner workings as much as their aesthetics, and got all wide-eyed in wonder whenever someone showed up with something shiny and new. She'd made a mental note to convince Tylas to let her take that Hapan ship of his for a spin, not because it seemed particularly powerful but because it was different. And maybe because deep down, she was convinced she could fly it better than him.

"I'm not sure we'll find any Imperials out here," she offered, before shrugging. "Not that it's a bad idea. Couldn't hurt, at least." Unless she'd somehow managed to screw up the very simple job she'd attempted down below. Then, well, they'd probably die. Or something. As the ship came to life, preparing for inevitable departure from the near-empty spaceport, Vi wrinkled her nose. "Anoth was kind of miserable. Don't tell me you're going there willingly." Her habitat, simply put, was one with air conditioning. And an atmosphere. Letting the automated systems do most of the work, the freighter left the docking bay behind, and the planet not long after.

 

[Apocrypha]

"Can't say I'm not eager to put a few lightyears between Bakura and myself," he replied evenly, frowning. "There's an immense... weight to the planet, you understand? I don't know how attuned you are to the Force, now, but the Living Force was always my specialty. It was what made the most sense to me, as a Youngling, and what I enjoyed learning about the most. It's why I'm a talented healer; it's why I'm easily able to center myself in combat; it's why I can connect so easily to the wildlife of many given planets... but, being that the Living Force binds and penetrates each and every one of us, it bears a startling weight, too."

With a sigh, he went on: "On Bakura, I could feel their suffering - those inflicted with the plague. It was an almost physical thing, like, ah... if you've ever been on a planet with higher gravity than you're accustomed to. It weighs you down." Whether or not she had noticed, Rorik had been barely holding it together, back on Bakura; he had stifled his sensitivities for the greater good, and soldiered on through the mission... but he was relieved to be rid of the planet for the time being.

"I think what affected me the most, though, was that I could feel their pain - but I could do nothing to help them. As a healer - assuming I hone my skills further - I can be invaluable on the front lines of a battlefield. I've knit flesh and set bones, maybe more than I can count, but curing illness on a molecular level is far beyond me... and even if it weren't, there are just too many of them. Through the Force anything is possible, Vi, but there are limits to what those of us who hear its call can accomplish. Maybe if the Circle of Healers still existed... but, no, I don't think there are that many with the power to heal anymore. Not since our banishment from the Inner Rim.

"If Bakura is to be cured," he surmised, "I suspect it will be through more conventional means."

Relaxing a bit, he turned towards the pink woman and smiled. "No, probably not a lot of Imperial patrols out here, this far beyond their designated territory. Better safe than sorry, though - and no, I was honestly more keen on Arbra, if it's all the same to you. At least there's some foliage there."

 

[Bee]

"I.. think so," she answered truthfully when he questioned her understanding of the situation, brow furrowed as she looked between the console and her co-pilot.

Vica didn't exactly expect the stream of consciousness, and while her attention was mostly focused on the navicomputer, she still listened as closely as she could while Rorik spoke of the Force and it's significance. The Living Force, whatever that was, had never been something she was good with. She was good at running and jumping and fighting with the Force at her back, but using it to seek out targets of interest over long distances, or feel the death throes of a planet on the decline? Not her division. Not her interest either, in all fairness. Vica had been more concerned with bending the power they'd been given to her will, and had done so quite well - but anything more than that, she wasn't so sure she cared to master.

She was, at her core, a woman of action. Meditation didn't fulfill her, but she wasn't oblivious to it's usefulness, either. The Circle of Healers, talk of banishment - she didn't know what those things were about. And frankly, she was glad for her personal obliviousness. The less she knew about the Order, the better. The easier it would be to feign ignorance if the Imperials ever found her. "I'm not sure I can say I've felt that way." But she empathized, or at least tried to, if only because feeling the pain of an entire planet had to suck. Especially one as messed up as Bakura.

"Arba it is." Nodding, she spoke with her eyes focused on the viewport, on the darkness and stars that filled the space around them. "Sorry about earlier, in the alley. Hopefully you won't be in too much trouble for it."

 

[Apocrypha]

He hadn't expected her to explicitly understand - but he knew she could sympathize with him, on some level, and that felt nice.

Returning to his seat from the navcomputer behind them he chuckled, shaking his head. "I haven't known him for long, but I get the feeling Orlaan didn't mind. Besides, this isn't the Old Republic - we're not forbidden from forming... emotional connections. At best, I guess I could be chastised for not focusing on the mission. Like I said, though, our gargantuan friend seemed to understand." Perhaps Orlaan had once experienced a similarly strange relationship with a woman. Or perhaps he was just crazy enough to get it without having been there.

Swiveling his chair towards the pink bounty hunter he grinned, crossing his arms. "What was that about, anyway? I've been greeted quite a few different ways: blaster fire. Lightsabers. Oh, once, a lovely young Imperial spy with a grudge tried to land a ship on top of me, believe it or not." Good thing those buildings had gotten in the way. "I have to admit, though - your greeting was a first." He paused, quirking his brow and rubbing his chin - "Though on second thought, I don't want any of those people I mentioned to greet me that way."

 

[Bee]

Leaning back, a leg crossed over her knee, she gave a slight nod. "Well, then I'm sorry for distracting you from your mission." The guilty smile on her lips seemed to imply that she wasn't, not even a little bit, though not maliciously so. Using her foot on the floor to pivot the chair in his direction, Vica laughed at the idea of someone trying to land a ship on him - what a terribly inefficient way to kill someone that was! - and gave a small shrug, looking down at her hands in her lap as though they might somehow have the answer. "I don't know." Despite the uncertainty, she remained smiling, though only slightly so. "I guess I get carried away."

Vica didn't know much about gray areas, really. Choices, people, places, they were all black or white, good or bad, likable or aggravating. It was an odd position for someone who worked outside the law to take, but she didn't consider the Hutt Cartel to be inherently evil - though they certainly did bad things - only, well, less honorable than what most folks were comfortable with. It was an odd game of mental limbo that brought her to that conclusion, that working for the Hutts was somehow okay, but she didn't regret the choice to do so. It paid well.

Turning her head, she looked through the viewport before her attention returned to Rorik, that slight smile fading. "I'll show some restraint, next time."

 

[Apocrypha]

"Well, I wouldn't say that's entirely necessary," he remarked casually, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair. After several long moments of maintaining an even expression he broke out into an infectious grin and laughed for several long moments. Composing himself, the young Jedi shook his head and glanced at his partner sideways. "We didn't have that much of a chance to talk, back on Bakura - how have you been?" Of course, the question was phrased rather specifically - he certainly wasn't going to ask, what have you been up to? He knew what she did - or, at least, had some inkling. He also knew that it ran strictly counter to his own moral code, and that, in all likelihood, were the order more structured at present, he would be expected to bring her to justice.

That, he could not do. Perhaps it was some weakness inside him, or maybe even a measure of wisdom and prowess within the Force, but he sensed good in her - a lot of it, in fact. Greed, too, and certainly some baser instincts that he didn't have much of a problem with. Nonetheless, she had done good things on more than one occasion of her own volition. He knew there was good in there, and as long as he saw her capable of any sort of redemption from her lifestyle choices, he found he could not even dream of pitting himself against her.

 

[Bee]

"You say that now," she said teasingly, as though years from now he might find himself at some grand coronation - she could see him as a Jedi Master, he kind of had the look already - with her pawing at him hungrily out of nowhere. Vi usually didn't get carried away with emotion, unless she was mad, but that was kind of different, and it'd been so surprising to see him again she just couldn't help herself. But she wasn't a hopeless romantic, nor did she have some wild idea that they could be together in any capacity. He was a Jedi. She wasn't. She was one of the bad guys in the Order's worldview, and that was.. fine. The sooner she forced herself to realize that viewing him as more than a passing acquaintance would just hurt in the long run, the better off they both would be. Maybe.

Vica was a smart woman, and the way he phrased the question wasn't exactly lost on her. It wasn't what have you been up to? or what are you doing for work these days? or any of the polite questions people threw around to make small talk. Rorik knew what kind of person she was - perhaps more than she cared to admit - and what she did for work. There was no reason to bring up either, not when their visit was so short, not when things had been so good and uncomplicated. Double checking the navicomputer for their first set of hyperspace jumps, she exhaled with a thoughtful sigh, trying to come up with an honest answer. As the space around them turned into a streaky blur of white and blue, she leaned back in her seat some and shook her head. "I've been all right." Working a lot. Worrying about her impending mortality. Serving drinks. The usual, really. "I suppose I can't complain."

The navicomp was programmed to cycle through a set of carefully selected jump points, and as long as they remained seated there was really no reason to fiddle with the ship's controls. They'd pop out of hyperspace in a few minutes, free of any potential Imperial tail, and be a few minutes out from an old jump beacon that once upon a time indicated a route to Arbra was nearby. "Are the Jedi treating you well?" She asked with a slight ironic touch, knowing the answer was likely to be a yes.

 

[Apocrypha]

"Mm," he hummed thoughtfully, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, which he swiveled towards his pink companion.

"I spend most of my days receiving and dishing out bruises, cuts, burns and the occasional broken bone," he began, raising his left hand and ticking off a finger. "I undertake dangerous - typically life-threatening - missions for my half-defunct sect of Jedi, most of which I never met in my youth, and to whom I am a stranger," another finger. "The largest military force in the galaxy is perpetually trying to slip a noose about my neck, and they're supported by a massive cluster of Sith who are just as well-trained as us but much larger in number," then another. "Last, but not least, any hopes of overthrowing this tyrannical empire is undermined by the fact that most of the Galactic Alliance personnel scrambling to form a resistance loath the Jedi for abandoning them in their eleventh hour - a decision which the overwhelming majority of us had no say in at the time."

A thin smile graced his lips, honest if not particularly powerful; "I'm doing wonderful, though. I've never been more attuned to the Living Force, and that is a gift."

 

[Bee]

Her grin, small as it was, started to fade as he spoke, her expression somewhat blank by the time he got around to mentioning a growing connection to the Living Force. Vi knew that the Jedi had it bad, or at least that she'd had a less than pleasant time with the Order, but the gravity of it had somehow eluded her. Blinking, unsure of what to say, the half-Zeltron shook her head and laughed, clearly not expecting the answer he gave her, but trying her best to roll with it anyway. "Well, at least you've got that going for you." She almost brought up the return of his old lightsaber as a positive, but it seemed a bit too much like fishing for the thankfulness he'd already given her with sincerity. There was an uncharacteristic kind of sympathy in her eyes, her expression kind of sad - despite the faint smile that had returned with her laughter - as she looked away, out into the stars.

"I don't regret leaving," she said abruptly, frowning as the stars whipped by, searching for the right words. Ones that didn't sound so self-centered. "But I feel bad you're stuck with.. all of that." Alone. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd said, but she could empathize - being a Jedi was something of a raw deal by default, but going at it alone? No thanks. "Let me know if you ever change your mind." The seriousness faded from her tone, and she turned to look at him rather than the lack of scenery.

 

[Apocrypha]

"Nor should you," he replied simply.

"I appreciate your empathy, but don't worry." His smile broadened, his eyes focusing at nothing in particular; "Whatever the Jedi Order may be reduced to now, whatever remnants are left, waiting to be rebuilt... what drives me is what the order was to me. It found me, in the dark, and raised me in to the light; helped me discover and explore my full potential, the unimaginable power given to me because of my sensitivity to the Force - but taught me how to temper that power, taught me that I could never wield it for my own malice, or greed. I learned to open myself unto a guiding entity far too magnificent to grasp, and to embrace my part in that dichotomy - that of servitude.

"In service to others, we find our purest, most simple pleasure. For me, aiding the downtrodden and the weak gives me purpose, and drives my every breath." He sighed, his wistful reverie seemingly shattered as he turned his gray gaze upon her once more. "So you understand my desire to expel this vile, scornful, hateful infection from the galaxy and do my part to rebuild what was once so right."

In response to her last statement, however, he quirked a brow; "What do you mean?"

 

[Bee]

At one point, she might've envied his connection to the Force and how it had changed his life. Maybe as a younger person, a more open-minded Padawan who wanted to impress a stoic Mistress. But Vica had made her decision, and didn't seem too eager to go back on it now - she just wasn't Jedi material. It wasn't really the end of the world. "I mean if you decide to be a runaway like me," she said with a laugh, shaking her head. "I'm not being serious." Part of her expected a lecture about the wonders of the Force, how great the Order was, but as talkative as he was, even Rorik had to realize his praise would be falling on deaf ears. If she ever found her way back into the fold, it would be on her own terms. Not because anyone talked her ear off about it until she gave in.

As the ship emerged from hyperspace, she keyed in one more jump - taking them further from their final destination - before programming the navicomp to take them to Arbra directly afterwards. Aside from landing the thing, everything was technically under control of the droids and their AI, which meant that they were no longer stuck waiting in the cockpit to arrive. "We've got a minute before we'll be in hyperspace again," she said casually, standing up. "I'm gonna get a drink." Gesturing with a small nod in the direction of what passed for a lounge, she pointed with her thumb to invite him along without actually saying the words aloud.

 

[Apocrypha]

"Ah," he replied, grinning. "It's nice to know I have a friend if I should change my mind." Eyeing her for just a moment, he considered the vitriolic argument about the wonders of the Force and the magnitude of the Jedi Order - but the truth was that, as wonderful as the Force was, he could not shove it upon her; it was her responsibility to deny or accept it in her life. As for the Order, well... he had been growing more and more disillusioned as of late, but he would keep that to himself for now. Though, he added; "On the opposite end of that spectrum, should you ever decide to continue your training, know that you won't be alone." He seemed sincere, at any rate; non-judgmental, at least. There had been a time when he might have tried to force his opinions upon her, but the past few months had ingrained in him a better understanding of sentient dynamic, reading people, and a more vigilant take on the light side of the Force.

"That," he said, rising from his chair, "doesn't sound like a terrible idea."