Session export: GJW XVII - Supernova

Emere stood next to Bril, silent, arms folded over her chest. She watched the bird take flight, recalling a time she wished she herself had wings.

Her goal was to get back safely to Morra. To Savi. War ravaged the Brotherhood against the people she cared for most. If she could, she would hand-deliver Rath’s head on a platter to the Collective’s headquarters. The bastard was always slippery.

Once the raven disappeared from sight, she checked over her gear again, making sure everything in her arsenal was pristine.

Satisfied, she remained still.

Karran sat cross-legged at the top of the loading ramp, palms pressed firmly into his knees. At first glance, he looked peaceful and serene in his motionless meditation.

His eyes darted beneath his closed eyes as he remembered. He thought back to the last time he had fought The Collective. He thought about the wounds he had received. The downward spiral he had gone through. The friendships that were irrevocably altered. He and Ruka were on better terms now, but it was undeniable that their relationship had been strained in a way that would never heal fully. He remembered the scars that he still carried. The months of recovery. The cybernetic arm he had finally relented to have installed that still never felt fully…him.

Slowly, he felt his hearts ramp up. Blood pumped harder through his veins. Rage filled his body like a roaring wildfire in his chest. His chest felt as though his hearts might burst through his ribs until finally he filled his lungs with a deep breath and the fire calmed. It focused. Like a welding torch immediately after the first flare of ignition. Concentrated into something useful and powerful.

The Sith’s eyes snapped open. His good eye intense and focused. He rose to his feet and checked his weapons. The saberstaff was secured behind his back. His single-blade was in it’s holster at his thigh. Finally, he joined the other two at the bottom of the loading ramp.

“Emere, Bril. How do we look?”

Angelica Kendis had spent most of the team’s trip to Nei'kapo in the cargo bay of the Genbu, her vice in one hand and her elbow in the other. She envied the way that Karran, like her sister, was able to meditate so seemingly easily. She had never been able to figure that skill out.

Between everyone here, she was the least familiar with the Brotherhood and it’s members, having only met Emere and Karran that day. Bril she had at least heard about in passing, but that wasn’t exactly a comfort.

When the ramp finally began to descend, Angel grabbed her helmet off a nearby surface she had found and held it under her arm. As she descended the loading ramp, she took a puff off of her mini cigarra, her mismatched eyes rolling along the landscape. A cloud of smoke left her lips as she stopped to stand beside her comrades for this mission.

Emere offered a nod to Karran and Angel as they joined. She sized up the almost-stranger in their squad. A name and dossier is all she had and if it were true, they wouldn’t have to worry about any slack. Karran was a force to be reckoned with. She had seen him fight and trusted him with her life.

She unfolded her arms mechanically while Bril spoke.

Though the task was to find Oligard, she suspected he wouldn’t be found unless he wanted to be. The Ilohan dreamed of being the one to be there when he drew his last breath. To be the reason he drew his last breath. Such thoughts remained fantasy.

The engine of Bril’s speeder tore her away from her bloodlust, prompting her to take the seat closest to the driver.

She supposed if he was competent enough to train her daughter in the Force, he should be able to operate a vehicle. She reserved judgment.

Karran threw a leg over the side of the speeder and stepped up into the back before taking a seat. His left hand, the cybernetic, rhythmically, almost mechanically opened and closed as if to remind its owner that it was there. There was a subtle tick in the thumb, as if the small hydraulics in the digit stuck before fully flexing in either direction. Almost no one would notice. But he felt it. He felt every little aspect of the cybernetic that failed to perform as smoothly as an organic limb should.

He blamed The Collective. He blamed himself. But he blamed The Collective more. They’d taken their pound of flesh from him, now he’d take it back, with interest.

His one eye stared at the horizon ahead.

“Should we review the plan? Not that the plan and what really happens have ever been similar, but it is good to go over what we anticipate happening.”

His voice was warm, but flat, with a hint of good humor at the inevitability of their mission going off the rails.

Without thinking much of it, Angel hopped into the passenger seat, quite literally jumping over the door and into the seat with a bit of a thud.

“I know Karran was present during a little training session but I don’t believe the rest of you were. I’m assuming you’ve read my dossier but just as a reminder, if things get hot, I can get us out. I’ll try my best to stay close enough to everyone else to make it quick.”

Angel spoke with the cadence of a general advising her troops, a habit she was never able to kick whenever she was sent off to fight. Usually Thea would be around to recite the main plan where Angel would explain the backup plan, but she thought it wouldn’t hurt to do it in a backwards order this time.

As soon as Angel entered the vehicle, the engine thrummed louder as Bril accelerated out of the hangar bay.

Nei'kapo’s sun was bright, beaming down on each passenger, prompting Emere to put on her aviators. Though her eyes were protected from the blaze, her brow remained furrowed as she thought about their mission and goal.

“All of us are more than capable in battle,” she finally added flatly. “The mission is to locate Oligard. If not, we should secure leads to get us closer.” Each of them knew why it was vital to locate him. Should they fail, it could lead to more catastrophe. More war. More danger to the ones she loved.

Again, she didn’t imagine the liberationist bastard was home, taking a load off with a cigarra. Speaking of– catching the down wind of Angel’s puff reminded her she craved one desperately. Quitting was in her best interest, however. She planned to stick around as long as she could for Morra and Savi. Morra, her own flesh, who reminded her of goodness in the galaxy. Savi, a lover, whose purpose, she presumed, was to give her hope again in a life marred by loss and pain.

“Did the Brotherhood detail if he should be brought back dead or alive?” The question lingered on her mind because the frakker, if it were up to her, wouldn’t see another day. But she knew better than to create unnecessary friction amongst her squad.

The right corner of Karran’s mouth pulled into a sneer.

“I am sure many among the leadership would prefer him to be brought in alive so that he may ‘stand trial’ for his many crimes.” He snorted. “But I suppose that does not specify that he be in one piece.”

He flexed and then clenched his right hand, the sharp blades at the end of each fingertip of the vibroclaw gauntlet tinked against each other. He imagined the hand around Oligard’s throat. the blades drawing blood around the man’s neck.

“After all, he can still answer for his actions, even if he cannot physically stand for his trial.”

“And the people protecting him?” Angel shouted over the wind and the engine. “Are we taking them in, too? Or are we putting them down?” The human took another puff from her cigarette as she considered what was right in this situation.

Her daughter would insist that nobody deserved to die but Angelica didn’t believe that for a second. There were some evils in this galaxy that are too dangerous to be kept free, to be allowed to roam around hurting people again.

Karran straightened in his seat and stood.

“We do not have time for this.” The Zabrak grumbled to the rest of the team.

He stepped out and walked toward the leader, looking down at her.

“No we are not. And we are on a schedule. Now you have a choice. You may attempt to rob and kill us, and you will all die. Or you may let us go.”

The human woman glanced around at the gang, then returned her stare to the tall Sith.

“Easy there big boy. Math must not be your strong suit. Nobody’s gotta get hurt, just hand over some stuff to pay the toll.”

Angelica’s palm met her face for just one moment before she took a breath and hopped out of the vehicle. She took one last puff before tossing her cigarra butt away, taking a place beside Karran.

With a puff of smoke, Angel tried to wave off the tension. “You’re right,” she said, trying to get on the bandit’s good side. “He is bad at math. But he wasn’t lying when he said we are on a time crunch. We don’t have anything valuable and it really won’t be worth the fight. It would be best for all of us if we just walked away from this.”

Of course the Mandalorian was lying. Sitting upon either of her hips were lightsabers, and her amor was very recognizable as some form of Mando beskar'gam, all things worth at least some value.

When the human realized her words were getting her nowhere, she reached into a pouch on her belt and removed one of her many tobacco products, offering it to the woman. “Want one?”

The speeder came to a grinding halt, kicking up a cloud of hot dust that stung Emere’s throat. She surveyed the newest threat. A group greater in number appeared. From their ragged appearance and tactics, most likely raiders. Or a gang.

If it wasn’t redundant, she would have repeated the first line Karran uttered.

“La mu uma outou,” she muttered—a curse in her native tongue that roughly meant may you all burn—as she climbed out of the vehicle. Her scatter gun glistened under the planet’s sun as she approached her squadmates.

Stupidity must have taken over both Karran and Angel’s minds. Karran’s lack of intellect wasn’t surprising—he was built for battle and other things. Neither of which required sophisticated use of his mind. Angel offering anything to their perceived enemy before an agreement was settled was pure foolishness. The other human’s stature wasn’t an assessment of her combat prowess, but Emere wondered if there was a useful thought anywhere in her mind.

As much as she abhorred negotiating, it was necessary.

Emere pushed past Karran and stood in front of Angel, swiping the offered cigarra out of her hand, deftly tucking it behind her ear.

“We have nothing for you,” she began dryly, her mouth moving but expression unreadable. “But if you want to live and gain something worthwhile, follow us and make yourselves useful.”

Her aviators scanned the crowd as if quietly assessing where she would start. “If not, I’ll take your spines one by one and let Karran decide which one of you makes the prettiest sound.”