[Tython Squadron] Castaway Run-On

Jedi Praxeum, Kiast, 38 ABY
Jon stood before a group of faces both familiar and unfamiliar, all of them looking at him expectantly. He tossed Bokk’s map up and down in one hand as he walked up to the impromptu “stage” that had been erected in the Praxeum hanger - a group of uneven crates and containers (and a deactivated gonk droid turned on its side, go figure). It would suffice.

Jon hopped atop of it, and turned to face the assembled members of Tython Squadron, dramatically swishing his cape for good effect. Time to put on a show he thought to himself.
“I’ll keep this brief,” he said, casting his voice. “I’m hoping you all read the briefing, but if not, here’s the rundown.” Jon began fiddling with the map, shifting the panels and plates along its spherical surface the way he’d been shown. Right on cue, the room exploded into bright blue light, as a miniature version of the entire Kiast system came into existence.

“Here’s how this works: this map is going to lead us to a very nice new ship hidden somewhere in the system, something from Kiast myth. The Light Of Ki’asma.” Most of the assembled faces lit up in recognition, Odan-Urr had been on Kiast long enough for its members to have at least heard one or two stories about the legendary ship.

“Unfortunately, we are not the only ones looking. Because hey, what’s the fun of a treasure hunt without rival hunters, right?” That didn’t even get a chuckle. Tough crowd. Jon sighed.

“I’m guessing you’ve all heard of the Sea Raven raiders? Well, they had this map before us. And they want it back. So, expect this hunt to be a running dogfight in space if they catch up to us.”
“Wait,” someone called out. Jon recognized them as Agate, one of his new recruits to the Squadron. “If they already had the map, shouldn’t they already know where the ship is?”

“When are treasure hunts ever that simple?” Jon asked sarcastically. Instead, he pointed to the holographic replica of Kaerls, the ice moon orbiting Kiast. The moon grew until it took up most of the room, and a single point was highlighted on the moon’s surface. “No, see, whoever made this map wanted us to earn their precious ship. So, instead it’s a scavenger hunt. We go to this location first, where we’ll supposedly undergo some kind of ‘trial’, and then the next location on the map will be shown. Rinse, repeat, until the mapmaker is satisfied. While pirates are chasing us.”

“And how many of these ‘trials’ are there going to be?” Junazee called out.

“We’ll find out, won’t we? But hey, look at it this way: this ship was supposed to have been crewed by all the greatest heroes Kiast has ever seen!” Jon said, spreading his arms out. He hopped down from off his “stage” and walked into the middle of the Squadron. “They say only the greatest and finest the system has ever seen have ever set foot on board. That it’s their ‘guiding light through the darkness.”

Carefully, Jon looked at his assembled Battleteam. Jedi and Force Disciples, real warriors of Odan-Urr. He wasn’t like that, and he knew it. But damned if he would let it hinder him.

“Can you really tell me whatever half-crazed Vatali what forged this thing could have had anyone in mind better than Tython Squadron? Because, I gotta be honest… I can’t think of a single name better suited.” With that, Jon turned and walked towards the Carnival.

“To your ships, Tython Squadron! Let’s go write our names in the history books!”

Jedi Praxeum Hangar bay
Kiast
38 ABY

As the new Tython squadron leader spoke to the assembled pilots from atop a makeshift platform Talis couldn’t help but peer around. His self imposed exile had kept him away for a good stretch of time and there were some new faces in the squadron. A few he knew of from within Odan urr and a few he didn’t know, even in name. Talis only recognized one other member of the aces among the group other than himself, the other Miralukan force wielder, Junazee. Chrome and Korroth had gone rogue and just vanished without even a goodbye. He had heard Ranarr Kul had defected to Plagueis. Ethan Martes had recently left the squadron so he was not there either. That would put a strain on Talis, as he would miss his wingman Ulwan watching his six. Arcia was also not there which didn’t surprise him Talis tossed a glance over his shoulder at the hangar filled with various personal spacecrafts and starfighters.

Sitting closest to the hangar bay doors was his modified Scyk fighter. Completely painted black except for the stylized callsign painted next to the cockpit. WARPATH in bold aurebesh stuck out from the contrasting matte black paint of the small fighter. Talis had never seen the color or writing due to his vision being so impaired by his Miralukan lineage, he could only trust that the shipyard complied with his order and made the requested aesthetic changes to his ship. The squadrons RZ-2 A-Wings sat across from the personal ships, docked to the upper walkway spanning along the top of the hangar and parked along the floor underneath them as well. Talis hated those starfighters. They performed well but the cockpit felt awkward and unfamiliar to him so he had chosen before arriving that he would pilot what he knew best.

Talis returned his attention to the large man speaking. He was holding a weird orb in his hand moved some tiles on it surface. The group reacted with a quieted gasp as something happened. Talis leaned over and nudged one of the newer members, a human female with long curly hair. Handing from her hip was a lightsaber and the marauder could feel the force exuding from her.

“Nijalah, right?” The younger female nodded and looked at him with an incredulous distrustful attitude, “what’s going on?”

“Are you blind?” The younger force disciple asked sarcastically.

“Technically no.” Talis lifted his helmet to show her his ceremonial eye wrapping. The look she shot him was more distrustful than the first.

“You’re a pilot?” Nilajah asked skeptically.

Talis smiled back at the woman, “An ace actually,” the man replied as he replaced his mandalorian helmet over his face, “I can see physical objects and track them, I can not, however,” Talis paused as he looked down at the shorter woman, “see holograms or images on a flat surface.”

“It’s a hologram of a map,” a familiar voice drifted in from behind the pair.

Talis turned to see Maximus standing a few paces behind him. His gaze was still on the images before him but his aura gave off the distinct color of fascination. Talis turned to his droid, R2- B9, and waved him forward. The droid rolled forward smoothly despite looking like he had been dragged from a recent wreckage. Panels on his torso and head were missing and others were of mismatched color schemes.

“Bee-nine can you save and analyze the map?” The little droid beeped back at its owner irritatingly and scanned the map before turning and abruptly heading towards Talis’ ship.

Talis turned back to the assembled squadron as Junazee’s voice erupted from the other side of the gathering.

“And how many of these ‘trials’ are there going to be?” Junazee aura flashed in excitement.

“We’ll find out, won’t we? But hey, look at it this way: this ship was supposed to have been crewed by all the greatest heroes Kiast has ever seen!” The new leader replied in earnest. Then he did something that surprised Talis. He nimbly hopped down from the junk pile and pranced into the center of the congregation of his pilots. The bravado is not what impressed him. It was the large man’s agility. “They say only the greatest and finest the system has ever seen have ever set foot on board. That it’s their ‘guiding light through the darkness.”

Intently, the heavier set human gazed upon Tython squadron and a wave of confidence rolled over his aura.

“Can you really tell me whatever half-crazed Vatali what forged this thing could have had anyone in mind better than Tython Squadron? Because, I gotta be honest… I can’t think of a single name better suited.” With that, the unkempt, messy, giant of a man turned towards his ship before yelling back over his shoulder.

“To your ships, Tython Squadron! Let’s go write our names in the history books!”

Talis bee-lined it for his scyk fighter. Bee-nine was already loaded and ready to go as Talis clambered into the open canopy. The ship was already halfway thru start up procedures thanks to Bee-nine and was the first to lift off the ground and turned to face the hangar bays exit.

“This is Talis DeMorte, callsign Warpath, requesting clearance to launch and take up a holding pattern until the rest of tython are in the air.”

“Warpath, this is tower you are go for launch and to take up a holding pattern, fly safe and see you when you come home.”

With that Talis advanced the throttle and pulled the yoke back and rose up out of the hangar bay exit into the sky above the Praxeum.

Aryn “Jade” Erinos had heard the entire speech from the current leader of Tython Squadron, as her personal fighter — a Clone Wars era ETA-2 Actis-class Interceptor, more commonly known as the ‘Jedi Interceptor’ — had been docked nearby for routine maintenance after her modifications to the thrusters. The redhead herself, despite having a workable maintenance bay and hangar at her brother-in-law’s home, preferred to occasionally visit the one on Kiast to have interaction with other mechanics and pilots.

Though she would have once jumped at the chance to make a name for herself, to become a legend…

The priorities of the Mandalorian had changed since her marriage to Rowena, then finding out that the experimental procedure had been a success. There was life growing within her body, a son; the two of them were well aware that, due to the genetic splicing done to ensure a child of both of them, there was no chance for it to be a daughter without possible complications. Celevon, Rowena’s twin brother, had been the one to donate the male part of the genetic material.

“Go love,” her wife urged, mercurial eyes soft with understanding. “Mandalorians are very similar to Echani. We cannot let the call to battle go unheeded,” the half-Echani murmured, wiping the grease off of her hands.

Jade turned, the conflict clear within her. “I hate these hormones,” she grumbled, picking up her helmet. “Thirteen, prep the Aurelia once you’ve finished your diagnostic… and connect my helm to the ship’s comm system.” The astromech, BB-13, within the modified droid slot whistled an affirmative, followed by a quick question. “No, keep the power to the thrusters and cannons. Divert it from the ion blast cannon if you have to.”

When she turned back, it was to see an amused smile and her wife shaking her head. “I don’t know how you understand that droid. Anyway… be safe, mesh’la*. Both of you.”

Their foreheads were rested together.

“How about a kiss for good luck?” Jade asked after a moment of silence, bringing a grin to Rowena’s lips.

“Why would I do that? If you want a kiss, make it home,” the half-Echani retorted playfully, giving the redhead a light peck on her pouting lips. “Your motivation to come home is for a real kiss.”

It took a few minutes before Rowena departed, headed toward a shuttle to take her back to their home on Solyiat. The Mandalorian had climbed into her cockpit after a last-minute check of her emergency provisions and spare parts. The hood slid shut, controlled by BB-13, moments after Aryn pulled her helm on, cold blues observing the hangar through the gold-tinted lense of her visor.

A voice filled the helm, courtesy of the internal comlink system. “This is Praxeum Tower. Your droid contacted us, fighter Aurelia.”

Wildcat requesting clearance to launch and take holding pattern Delta until Tython Squadron is in the air.”

“Granted Wildcat. Until next time.”

“Until next time,” Jade agreed, the vessel lifting from the duracrete in a single graceful motion as her gloved fingers flashed across the different flight sequences. “Thirteen, scan frequencies until you’ve got the comm channel Tython Squad is using.”

The droid beeped an affirmative, hesitated for a moment, then asked a question which brought a chuckle from the woman.

“No, we’re not going to buzz the Tower again. They get grumpy when we do that, Thirteen.”

The astromech gave an almost disappointed, long beep.


  • Mesh’a — Mando’a for ‘beautiful’