Shadows passed over the orb like viewports of a KST-100 Kestrel Light Transport as it glided through the asteroid belt, weaving around chunks of rock with ease with its ion engines at partial throttle. The ruby, emerald and white striped ship was stark contrast against the underrated colors of the field. The little solar light of Dajorra’s sun caught participles within the space, casting a faint orange fog, and the drifting asteroids with their greys and blacks streaked with purples and greens.
Diyrian Grivna has long been flying out here through the fields, leisurely, for travel to Selen and out of Dajorra, and routine drills and patrols with the Siren Squad. There was always something…cathartic about flying out this way, and especially now. Being able to get away from the Citadel for a moment and put her hands on the yolk was all she could think about the last two days. She was going to enjoy it while she can, let the ship warm up, music blaring, and then really let loose and fly–
The jukebox volume decrescendo’d to a mere faint hum, killing the vibrations of the beats along with it. Diy ceased her light drumming of her finger on the control dash and the bobbing of her foot where it dangled in the open space beneath and around her chair. Her gaze flicked temporarily at the intercom’s light, knowingly.
“The Asteroid density is at forty-one percent, pilot. I recommend main flight controls be returned to my operation.”
“I’ve squeezed through much tighter than that, Lacie,” the ex-smuggler responded nonchalantly back to the hawty warbly voice. The droid-brain’s opinions on their own skill and preference to be in control were nothing new to hear. And while L4-C1A definitely knows this ship and all its coding and system functions, sometimes a little old fashion sapiency is needed to know what some schutta may pull on ya.
And just plain wanting to pilot yourself. .
Diy continued focusing out the unparalleled viewports of the kestrel’s cockpit as L4-C1A’s farther expert advice and insistence dimmed and muffled into background noise. A song filling the void of sound stimulus in her mind, she flew on. A couple minutes passed of weaving idly around chunks of rock when she caught a flash of silver and black passing behind an asteroid up ahead.
“–increase in thirty-two meters ahead – Pilot, I am detecting a shi–”
“One sec, Lacie. Tell me in a minute,” the faux-Zelosian cut the droid-brain off.
She reached up and flicked some switches, powering down the thrusters and lowering some of the outside optics and lights. The colorful craft wasn’t the most easily hideable ship and was never intended to be. But that’s where positioning came in. Slipping in quietly, she fell behind the craft and kept low below where its deck leveled. The shadows of Asteroids passing over both ships while she took a good glance at it.
A TIE/RP Reaper Attack Lander.
A transport and troop dropship…That was enough of a cause for a red flag. Her hand moved towards her transceiver, ready to request L4-C1A to patch her in to Dusk Station when she paused. Sensible actions and protocol would deem reporting this, or at least checking in about a ship fitting the description leaving Selen, or Ol'val about it. Pirates? Illegal mining ops scouting the joint? The vessel looked pretty sparkly clean for either of those…
Nah, she’ll take this one herself. There was an off chance it was one of the Arconans – the AAF didn’t have reapers – and if not? Well, she can handle it. .
“Lacie, send a broadcast to our friend here.”
“It would be best interest to identify the spacecraft’s transponder code. Due to outdated programing, it will take one-hundred sixty five point two seconds to search the BoSS database,” L4-C1A stated with no small amount of pointing out that Diyrian still hadn’t authorized some updates.
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Just patch me in,” the Kiffar leaned back into her seat and kicked her feet up on the dash, earning herself a warbled scoff from the Droid brain. L4-C1A complied and with a confirmation of a connection, Diy cleared her throat and spoke in the most authoritan military voice she had, well trained from her Siren Squad days.
“Hail, Pilot. You are in Dajorra Space. Please relay your transponder code and identify yourself.”
Bril was sitting in the luxury quarters of his Tie Reaper, Ibaka, when he heard a familiar voice project from the ship’s onboard comm system.
“What the …” he said to himself while sitting up. “Is that Diy? Why is she speaking so formally like she doesn’t know th—wait. I forgot to register my new ship in the DDF’s MFTAS system. Whoops.”
Bril hurried to the ship’s cockpit and assumed control of its flight gear.
“This is Starosta Bril Teg Arga of House Galeres,” he announced over their closed channel. “I maaay have forgotten to register my new ship. Sorry about that.”
“Slacking, Starosta,” Diyrian clicked and shook her head in mock disappointment, her militant tone leeched with a playful note. She swirled a finger and pointed towards the Reaper to signal L4-C1A to bring them in beside and out of their stealthier positioning. The Lady’s Flower hummed as it accelerated slightly before hoovering level with the other ship.
“I’ll let you off with a warning, just get it updated within two to three business days,” the faux-Zelosian teased. “So, what brings the Starosta out in this neck of the system?”
He grinned. “Still looking out for me, Diy, thank you.”
It was hard to believe that it had only been a little over a year since they first met. So much had changed. He didn’t even feel like the same person anymore.
“Just testing out the new ride, you know? The summit pay is better than I expected it to be, and I’ve been good about saving my credits, so I decided to treat myself. Well, really treat Minnie since she’s the better pilot, but you know what I mean.”
Right, Minnie, the yellow Nautolan that put the ‘lion’ in dandelion and seemed like a bundle of fun– a shocking contrast to her brother. A year since she got to meet the man who broke her boyfriend’s leg…who asked for it. Look, they both can be idiots, just one of them is her idiot. Diy dismissed the thought from her mind, the smidge of a scowl disappearing with a shrug as she focused on the younger Zabrak she met that day. It’s been interesting watching the lad grow into Arcona to the point he was leading some of these mavericks. The faux-Zelosian paused, only just realizing she herself had stepped into Proconsul around the same time, her first time leading anything in the brotherhood. She couldn’t imagine doing it a couple years ago. How times have changed.
“I didn’t know you could fly, Starboi,” Diy returned, focusing back from idle thoughts. “Yeah, the creds are good. If I had this income, I could’ve bought the Flower instead of–”
A cough. Keep it legal, Diy. You’re supposed to be an example now, right?
“Didn’t know you flew, Brillo. The belt’s a good a place as any to test drive, long as ya aren’t returnin’ it back to the dealer and scratched the hull. There some good tracks out here if ya lookin’ to hone some skills,” Diy offered, perhaps half suggesting, provoking. She dropped her legs from the dashboard and leaned forward on it. “Does your Force give ya a bit of edge behind the yoke?”
“Starboi?” he asked with a hint of amused curiosity present in his voice, “I like it. And I couldn’t fly at all until Minnie started to teach me. These days, though, I’ve taken to using a droid brain to pilot for me.
"As for whether the Force gives me an advantage, I have read about such things, but I’m not sure if it does for me. Though, if you’re wanting to find out, we can have a little race.”