Open Space and Hyperspace

Six and a half. Plus 40.

"...Good....I suppose.."
Depends on how he looked at it. Seros wasn't necessarily looking forward to the risks and side effects involved with what he was planning to do with his time, but he figured now was the best time as any before getting in any deeper with the Syndicate..and before Dante's powers manifested again. He needed to figure out exactly what the threat level of his experiments would be, and it wasn't going to bring him to any point near death. Not by a longshot. Even the incidental dose he took back on Coruscant wasn't nearly fatal. He should be alright.



That was fair. And all the more wiser.
He nodded , but noticing her back was turned to him, he glanced what affirmative look he had intended for her to Jace with the rising of his head. "Understood. If..you'll excuse me..."

He left the bridge promptly, leaving the two of them to their duties. It was probably an awkward departure, but it was worth the time he'd have. "This is it, ol' boy. Time to finally observe what you're really dealing with. ..Don't kriff it up, yeah?"

Reaching his room, he turned and locked the door behind him. He also took a moment to dim the rather invasive flourescent lights of the cabin. He presumed having such abrasive light flooding in whilst undergoing the hallucinagenic effects wouldn't bode well. The brighter the lights, the more powerful the 'trip'. Giving a hefty sigh, he approached his full duffel bag and retrieved some syringes. These would have to do, since Seros didn't want to make himself look like a leech by immediately asking where they kept their booze. This was more discreet anyways. He also pulled out a tourniquet, set it on the bed, and took one of the deathstick vials out of the black box attached opposite his PDA. Knelt down, he looked at it. It's deep pink color, the crystaline particles flowing about its small glass prison. The swirls of Ixetal danced about from the vial being moved. It was clear that such a substance integrating into a blood stream would have such dire consequences, but what Seros was gauging himself up for...was the withdrawls. He wasn't worried about it in the sense of becoming life-threatening or changing. Youth were more susceptible to addiction, and less likely to strain out of it willfully. Seros only had one dose administered, so he barely tipped the iceberg yet, and his constitution was much heartier and tolerant. And what meditation he had done in the past week proved most rejuvenating. Despite the circumstances, the Force was still his ally at the end of the day. But he knew he'd start going through the symptoms of withdrawls nonetheless.


By the Force, the pain and torment scientists go through for the sake of research.

"So..." he popped the top off the vial, which were all suited for adaptable use in a syringe, and attached it to the syringe in his other hand once it was properly secure. Taking one end of the tourniquet between gritted teeth, he wrapped it snugly about his bicep and tied it accordingly, applying the needed pressure. He sanitized the area of insertion in the cleft of his arm with an alcohol swab, and took up the syringe, flicking the bubbles out, pushing the remaining air out with a small spurt of liquid. He inhaled deeply, holding the needle just above his bulging vein... "..here we go, then."

He exhaled deeply as he pressed into his arm, slowly pressing the pump forward. It felt cold as it went in, which wasn't what Seros expected. It was at least less horrific than he'd anticipated. But once the liquid was all the way in, and the needle was back out...


His eyes widened.



Fire.

Burning.

Hot.

FIRE.

In his arm.

He dropped the syringe to the floor, and began frantically pulling and tugging away at the tourniquet, even staggering back in shock, hitting the bunk's frame behind him on the other side of the room. "Sss-ithspit!" He finally managed to get control of his digits, and steadily unravel the crossover of the tightly wrapped band. ...It sprung loose, and the bloodflow presumed its natural course...taking the insatiable flame inside with it. Arm-shoulder--chest----neck cheeks and nose-----pelvis---------legs--feet. He took a knee down to the floor, his breaths slowing and drawing out with the quickening passing of time. The small spurt of blood from the high pressured vessel in his arm finally caught his attention as he looked down at himself. A bit of it had gotten on the floor, trickling down from his fingertips. He stood up, staggering as all hell, but he made it to the bed where he kept the swab ready, and pressed hard into the cleft of his arm. His innards were still burning as he slumped over the side of the bed haphazardly. Through his movement, however, the heat turned into a..somewhat elating coolness that mixed with the burn. In his muscles. It was beyond anything truly describable...because all that, coupled with the feeling of what inevitably came next......

"Ohh...kriff..."

Jace gave him a short and respectful nod back as he then watched Seros turn and leave the bridge.
He wasn't quite sure of his thoughts on Seros at this moment. The best description was somewhere between extremely cautious due to his inquisitive nature and involvement with the Syndicate mixed with general neutrality from being a Jedi and asking the important and honest questions. If this had been any other occasion Seros' curiosity, especially into Dante's past, would have been met with either his friend's blade or his own bullet. But considering that Dante wasn't his usual self and Jace was with a smuggling crew rather than working in the field, such a reaction would be grossly inappropriate. Such a cold killing just seemed out of place and unneeded, and a waste of life. It seemed that the longer he stayed with this crew the more reluctant he was to simply push away those closest to him. Maybe having spent some time away from Dante was a good thing. At least, for a little while that is.

He turned to Liya, seeing her turn to him out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but offer a smirk when he saw the amusement in her eyes, followed by a short chuckle at her short remark. Turning around he sat himself down next to Liya in the co-pilot's seat, gazing at the controls before him as she mentioned Dante.
Jace was starting to wonder how much Dante was going to change now that he didn't have this Force-sensitivity. It was getting increasingly harder to gauge what his reactions would be now that he wasn't on the psychosis medication. Never in a million years did Jace think he was going to hear that story again, especially considering it was directed more towards those on the bridge. While it did seem like Dante was getting better overall, and finally coming to terms with his past, it meant that there was probably something else that he wasn't coming to terms with. And that is what worried him. "I didn't expect Dante to do that either."

His eyes rested on the control board a moment longer before flicking over to meet Liya's eyes and her inquiry. "And I think I know more about Seros and Daniel than I do about you." It was his way of stating that the curiosity was mutual without actually deflecting away the question, although it might seem like it at first. He knew a bit about Daniel, having arranged for the obtainment and eventual delivery of his research on their artifact. He already had a file on the good doctor of his academic history and tid-bits of his life, which would be a quick and easy data-transfer whenever he decided to call up headquarters. Seros would be a lot harder to dig up information on, but having eavesdropped on his and Dante's conversation earlier had lead to some interesting finds. Regardless, Jace did wonder why he hadn't pushed for intel on Liya and her life prior to their current circumstances. It seemed that one minute you were fighting your way out of a jungle beside a bunch of strangers and the next thing you know you are all flying around together blasting things into oblivion, causing havoc, and watching each others backs without question.

Jace's gaze turned to the hypnotic vortex of hyperspace that they traveled through, his thoughts temporarily lost as he sought out what to do next. Liya did have a point, one that went a little deeper than she knew. Aside from Dante who knew a good chunk of the story, Jace hadn't spoken to anybody for years about anything pertaining his personal life. He hadn't kept in contact with Zalor or Master Nial from Dantooine and Endor. Everybody from the Hellborn unit was either missing in action, killed in action, or so corrupt that they weren't even the same person anymore. And he had learned to keep his relations professional with all the soldiers that he worked with over the years. It wasn't worth it to become friends with them only to watch them die or get transferred to another unit and die somewhere else. Didn't help that everything he did was classified. He couldn't remember the last time he had been with a solid group that he could truly rely on, both on and off the battlefield. Which was strange, because even if they did dig into his records based on what he said to learn about him, they wouldn't find much of anything. He had seen to that.

He pondered for another minute, staring off into hyperspace before letting out a soft sigh.
"...I was born on Corellia." He smirked for a moment. "I guess you could say that's where I went wrong, being born a trouble maker... My mother died in a speeder accident when I was young, so I don't have many memories of her. My father cared for me for several years before departing to fight a war, leaving me in the care of his friends.... He never came back." He paused, remembering the dull yet wondrous Mandalorian armor that he wore. A solid grey that seemed to stick out despite the matching city-scape. "I lived and trained with them for several years, developing skills that I would eventually use when I became of age to explore the galaxy on my own. I figured the best way to implement both would be to join the Sabaoth Squadron, a well-funded mercenary group that was on the rise. I skipped around a bit, going from Sabaoth to working with the Tau Empire to the Hellborn..." Jace paused for a second as gruesome events that happened while serving with them flashed into his mind's eye. He repressed any outward projection of the struggle that took less than a second and carried forward.  "... to the Emerald Blades. Needless to say, nothing really panned out for the long run. I had been on Contruum when I found out that Karana and Wade were having trouble and followed them to Varonat..." He finally turned to Liya and shrugged slightly. "And the rest is history."

Jace glanced back at the viewport before looking down at the control board again. "Yupe... That pretty much sums it up." While he didn't say anything, finally opening up to one of the crew members had felt good. And he was glad it was Liya, as she seemed like she'd be the most receptive of this unveiling, as minor as it was. There was still a ton that Jace had purposefully left out, such as his escapades as a Force-user. But now was neither the time nor place for that. Turning his head slightly he looked back to Liya to see if she was willing to divulge in some of her experiences, or at least see if he could gauge some sort of reaction from her.

Jace casually watched Liya from his seat in the co-pilot's chair, his eyes occasionally switching from her face and posture to her left hand that was idly manipulating the controls before them. Considering how much he had revealed about his past and their shared occupations, it was safe to assume Liya would leave out just as much as he had. There was too much in terms of classified information at stake in both their line of works, and far too many painful memories to go with it. He had been there. He understood what it was like on the front lines, in the air, space, or wherever one was posted.

But when Liya said her father was murdered by his 'business partners', his eyes dropped from Liya to the floor. And when she said her mother died of a heavy-heart, he couldn't help but close them and let out a silent sigh. Losing a friend to an enemy is one thing, but family isn't something you can stir up over a thick pint at a cantina. If there was one thing Jace was blessed with, it was losing his parents without anybody to blame. It sounded terrible, yes, but accidents occurred all the time and war was just as reliable to happen as taxes were. Murder and grief however, those were the recipes for revenge. Luckily for Jace, he had only faced an instance were true revenge boiled through his blood once in his life. If he had had his family murdered, it was more than plausible that he would be walking a darker path of the Force instead of being here.

Jace looked back up when Liya continued, noting her distant tone and the color having partially escaped her features. She was delving into one of painful memories of her past, something Jace had been reluctant to do in front of the crew. He had to admire her strength and composure as she carried on, as it was difficult to pry open memories as volatile as that. Jace thought back to the strange circumstances that had brought them all together when Liya mentioned Varonat. He would have just followed the holonet and gone to the next major crisis with his forces if it hadn't been for Karana and Wade. He would have never known the crew if he hadn't followed his instincts and that little tug he had felt in the Force. Not knowing Liya or the rest of the crew, such a thought seemed foreign.

He blinked as Liya dropped her head, becoming silent with her last admission. Jace bit his lip, now staring at the partially defeated woman beside him. That was something he could relate to, feeling as though you were all alone in a galaxy full of never ending bantha-poodoo. When he had been cornered with the remains of his fellow soldiers by a Bartokk invasion, or when he had been captured by Sith forces or the Iron Fist on Bespin, when you had nothing left. Not even hope.

He lifted his hand from its resting place on the control panel and gently placed it on Liya's now-still left hand. He gave it a light squeeze and continued to search her face for a sign. "...its not just you against the galaxy anymore, Liya. You've got the whole crew at your back, willing to put their life on the line for you just as much as you are to put it on the line for them. And as long as the crew... as long as I'm still able to breathe, I'll have your back." He left the statement hang in the air for a second before carefully letting go of Liya's hand and placing his on his own arm rest. He hoped he didn't cross any lines, but he felt that Liya needed the solid reassurance from him. Especially considering the circumstances that they would be heading into within the next few days.

The movements continued, quick and precise, tireless. At this point, Dante was barely conscious of them - his mind lost in thought, his body moving through sequences that he had been practicing for decades. The rage had subsided, and he was once more calm and collected, but other things lurked in his mind now...perhaps some doubt, and more than a little trepidation. He doubted the wisdom of staying with these beings, Jace or no Jace - it had been a long time since he had spent any amount of time around another sentient, let alone a group of them, and the contact he had had been deep undercover. When was the last time he had shown his face, his real face, to another living breathing person? Long enough it was hard to remember. Was it wise? If things went south, could he kill all these people? Ah. But there was the crux of the problem...for all their annoying, irritating, and incessant questions and human thinking...he found that he actually enjoyed being a part of society again. If you could call a ragtag band of misfits on a beat up freighter part of society. But it was the truth. He found Jace and Liya especially comforting...the way they acted was familiar, very much like the soldiers and agents in the olden days. Seros, not so much. Dante would lop off that ones head without so much a thought. Daniel was...practically harmless. Dante hoped he survived the oncoming fighting.

The thought made Dante sick.

He wished other sentients well? Putting aside his inherent hatred for all peoples and cultures, when did he lose sight of the mission? When did he leave sight of Selene? The thought that now, after a hundred years, he was losing her, made his blood run cold. Or...was his suspension of disbelief finally catching up to him and wearing him down? The sneaking suspicion in the back of his mind, the nagging voice, that she was dead...was it finally getting to him? Maybe it was. A hundred years of tireless violence and guerilla warfare could do that, especially with no end in sight. But he couldn't lose sight now....the end WAS in sight. Perhaps that was the problem. He was doubtful because now he would know for sure, one way or another, if she was alive. As long as he kept chasing her without end...he could always hope. What would he do, if he made it to the end of the line...and found only ashes? He hadn't given that much thought. Nor did he care to. But beyond that...was also the fear of Bespin. Bespin represented...a lot. It represented his place of training, a place of trials, and one of the many homes of his father.

The training...the test to see if he could become something more than just a killer. A test he had failed miserably. Well, in his own opinion anyway. The truth was that he had passed most of his trials...in the trial of skill and combat he had excelled, in the trial of courage he has also excelled - though many pointed out that in Dante's case courage and recklessness could be exchanged equally, the trial of flesh he had passed as well despite the pain, the trial of insight due to his training with Arcturus he had also past easily. The trial of spirit...had not gone well at all. In the end, Dante was hailed with words such as "prodigy" and "potential blademaster" as well as with words as "untrainable" and "unstable". He was powerful, quick, adaptive, and disciplined...but in the matters of controlling his own spirit, evils, and inner demons...an utterly useless student. He failed the trials, and then was told to only return once had conquered his demons.

And then there was his father's house. That dredged up all kinds of memories, probably for Jace as well. What would they find there? Anything from a hovel to a bioweapons storage facility, for all they knew. Truth be told, all the weapons Dante wore wasn't really for going to war...but was in preparation for the absolute worst case scenario when going to Arcturus' home. To compare Arcturus and Dante on levels of paranoia and double or triple thinking...that was like comparing a grain of sand to a beach. Arcturus had been a genius of combat...to an absolute fault - he was paranoid to the point of madness, and even a safehouse like this one would probably contain all kinds of nasty surprises...ranging from primitive tripwire traps to an nuclear self destruct device. Hence the excessive armament. Dante had to admit though, that the look of the others faces had been worth getting decked out - in time, perhaps they would learn Dante's strange sense of humor. Though, not any time soon probably. Besides the potential danger...there was some emotional baggage as well...the last time he had seen his father had been...church only knew when. What would they find there? Who could possibly know?

Shaking his head, Dante continued his exercises, then suddenly stopped at the sound of electronic beeping. Looking down, he smiled slightly at the droid - he had seen it analyzing the carbon scoring, but had paid it little attention. Most sentients didn't recognize droid sentience...Dante didn't really either. However, he frequently used droids and such in his missions, and he had to admit that he both admired and envied their singular programmed purpose and drive. Indeed, without many of their sacrifices, both he and Jace wouldn't be alive today. For that, he was often courteous to them, though didn't give much thought to them.

"Hello little droid. Unable to clean the carbon scoring?"

Continued from here
Perses Project - Kappa Class Shuttle - The Grinning Wampa - Briefing room


The briefing room was everything you would expect it to be for a ship this size; simple and efficient, obviously made for small teams with only ten chairs facing the small space at the front of the room, which is where Isabelle stood as she waited for the group to trickle in little by little. It took about as long as she expected for everyone to find their way back and to a seat as she watched quietly from the front. After about a minute she cleared her throat and waited for everyone to quiet down and turn their eyes front before she stepped into the center of the space.

"I'll make this brief."

No pun intended.

"Approximately sixteen hours ago headquarters received a report from one of our research stations about an escaped detainee. Within an hour we lost visual communication, and shortly after the outpost went completely dark. Preliminary scans of the area have shown a violent blizzard in the region which could explain the blackout. Our mission is to investigate the cause, assess the situation, and resolve. Officially we're to assume that the station is hostile until the our assessment is complete which means weapons hot. Are their any questions?"