Open Space and Hyperspace

Back on the bridge, Archais saw to the mobilization of their assassination squads. It was tedious work, but the roughly two hundred assassins had been trained for years for precisely this moment and even now their shuttles could be seen lazily drifting from the ship and jetting off into hyperspace. Already the image unfolded in his mind's eye of the tendrils of the dark side emanating from his ship, driven forward by the actions they took today. He grinned tightly as he stepped from the command plinth and started to his chambers, but was stopped by Ferris handing him a pad.

"Communication from Kruor, sir," he said, and Archais caught the tightness with which he spoke. The two had quarrelled over the years, and internally he was at odds with how to address it. He set it aside as Ferris continued. "Apparently some disturbance at a mining facility at Alderaan. Kruor believes this may be some Force-related disturbance and has placed it into the action queue."

Archais glanced at the report and noticed that Jedi intervention had been requested, which meant it was important. Still, little about the site drew his interest. Alderaan had been little more than an asteroid field for over twenty years now, and nothing valuable had yet been found in the few mining operations that had arisen. And yet....something drew him to the report. He closed his eyes a moment and let the dark side expand his senses, reaving a line through time and space and attuning him to the pulse of the galaxy. It was imperceptible, but it was there.

Something was drawing him to Alderaan.

Some called it providence, others the will of the Force. Still others believed chance was all that drove them. To Archais, though, this was a beacon. Sifting through the trillions upon trillions of beings in the galaxy, this called to him, and with an affirming nod, he turned to Ferris.

"I will see to this personally. Inform Kruor that he is to meet me in the shuttle bay in half a standard hour."

And what shall we do with the Dysnomia, sir?"

"Skirt through the Hydian Way to Ison, then hitch back, refuel at Bespin and await us at Korriban. I expect we may be several standard days. I will contact you with further instructions should our situation change."

Ferris nodded his assent, and Archais turned to leave the bridge. He stopped at his quarters to load a carryall with a few weapons, some garments, and a few other tools of his trade, but otherwise made for the shuttle bay and awaited Kruor.

=Captain Jeremiah Johns=
Bloody pirates!
Jeremiah had been about to order his crew to resist, when a read out came up showing the sheer number of Ion Cannons that were currently being targetted on the Bulk Freighter, which would undoubtedly have the ship disabled in mere minutes and leave the pirates nothing to do but wait for life support to run out. He calmly placed his cup of tea back on his command console, before opening a return line to their aggressors
=Captain Jeremiah Johns=
Since you clearly have us outgunned, I suppose I have no choice but to surrender. So, how do you want to do this?

“Whoa, whoa, HEY!”

Na’an had just stepped inside the quarters, noting the ship's hum of acceleration, when a leg shot out at her from the dark. She danced away from the leg with a jolt of alarm that shot pain through her temples, even past the medication.  Stepping back, she held her hands up to show she was unarmed, wishing she’d remembered to put the eyepatch back on back when she was in the medbay.  Instead, Na'an tilted her head to the side, letting the fall of hair that had shaken loose from her bun cover the prosthetic.

“It’s okay, doc,” she continued, keeping her voice even. “Don’t freak out. The blood, it isn’t real. You’re not where you think you are.”

Na’an watched Adelle sink into the bunk, curling into herself so tightly it was like she’d fly apart if she let go. For a long moment, she didn’t move, leaving her hands where they could be seen; she only watched Adelle sit, and breathe hard, and pretend so hard to be all right because Na’an was watching.

This wasn't the Adelle Na'an had known. This wasn't the miracle worker that had put her back together, this wasn't the sure-eyed surgeon that could calm a patient with a word, this wasn't doc. This woman, hair and eyes wild, surrounded with the Force in a way that made Na'an's skin crackle and itch...this woman was closer to the patient than a Healer, herself.

What had happened to Adelle Bastiel? 

There was no way to ask. And Na'an was no Healer. All she could do was try to mollify Adelle, the way she had treated Elly, the way she'd laid the law down for Cao. Stopgap measures, meant only for when the one in charge just had to hold out for someone better.

And the measure here, the right thing to say, could only be gauged with what few instincts her aching brain could still access.

“You…” she paused awkwardly, then tried again. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

A single step brought her to the far end of the bunk. Na'an sat on its edge, looking at her hands curled in her lap rather than at Adelle, picking at a nail to divert her focus. “I don’t know if you want to tell me what all that was about,” she continued. “Why you were there. What I...picked up, just now. Or even if telling would help. But you don’t have to try so hard to be okay right now. You're safe here.”

And Na'an didn't respond.

There was little that could be done to stop what was coming out of Adelle in a flood. Somewhere, in some old text, Na'an had read that certain cultures would slap a person in the midst of histrionics, to snap them out of it.  But it always seemed so cruel--like a bottling up of whatever poison would ride the wave out of a person. When Na'an had been full of that kind of poison, that sort of creeping darkness, Adelle had never been cruel. She had known when interrupt, when to seem unkind, to stop Na’an before she really got going and hurt anyone...but Doc hadn't made her stop when the tears had finally come.

So Na’an sat, watching her hands curl and uncurl rather than turning to watch the woman on the other side of the bunk. She felt the pale, sick flicker of a heart jumping in her chest, the flash of electricity under her tongue, the pain in her skull, the surge of icy blood through her arms and legs: all the familiar signposts of terror and rage made unfamiliar by the fact that they were not her own.

She sat there, enduring, not saying a word to cover the sounds of Adelle Bastiel crying out her heart. It was only when those sounds subsided slightly that she moved, and even then only to edge a touch closer, to shift her weight, to move her hands out of her lap to halfway offer one.

"Oh."
Her hands were wet...clammy, really, with sweat and tears. Na’an held it lightly, almost not at all, and listened to the sounds of the ship around them accelerating through hyperspace.

“I...I don't think we have anything for that in the medbay,” she said. “But it's better to let it out then pretend, right? That’s what you said...back then. You keep it in you and it festers.”

The sudden change in topic did its work. Na'an colored, pulling back slightly. "I wasn't exactly left with options, she said, a little defensively. "It was that or let a Shan fry half the bar with Force Lightning. I didn't even have my shoto, and I had to get you out."  

Her voice took on an edge when mentioned the name Shan, but faded as she changed the subject again. "But I'm fine. Leigh's kept me sharp, and I gauged it pretty well this time. I'm not the one recovering from Force Exhaustion here."  She flipped her forearm, still holding Adelle's hand so that it rested palm up against the cot. When Na'an pulled her fingers away, the dull red gleam of the crystal she'd given Adelle was evident even in the near-dark.