Session export: Unfrozen
“Yeesh, what a mess.”
Jon trawled through the cargo bay filled with scrap iron and junk. When that old contact of his had said he had some ‘interesting salvage’, Jon thought maybe there would be something recoverable for Project Pathfinder or. Looking over the mess of twisted metal that might once have resembled a ship and had been dumped in the middle of Tythas space-port, though, he’d be lucky to cover the expenses of getting it all hauled out of here.
The astromech droid at his side beeped.
“Yes, yes, you told me so. If you’re so smart, why don’t you be governor of this karking city?”
Jon groaned. What a colossal mess. Of course it would fall to him to see it got cleaned up. How had he let Mihoshi and Asani trap him in this job? He vented his frustration by kicking a pile of metal.
Screeeeee
Jon swore and scrambled out of the way as the mound of scrap iron collapsed. He fell to one knee and watched as chunks of debris crumbled to the floor, and revealed…
“Huh.”
Well that was different. The dealer hadn’t said anything about cryo-stasis pods. He walked over to one of them, watching his step so he didn’t slice his leg open on a piece of metal. He looked over the pod; knocked on its glass surface. Wiped some dust.
Clone Wars era maybe? Possibly older. Surprsingly intact. Active–
Wait. Active?
With a pneumonic hiss and a flood of mist, the pod cracked open, and something spilled out…
A chiss man, probably the equivalent of late twenties by human standards, is inside the pod. He begins to move, twitching really, the muscles around his left eye close around his eyelid for a second and his head moves from side to side. Then he opens his eyes. Those unsettling red eyes the chiss has focus on you and look confused for a moment but quickly become focused. He moves into a combat position and yells, “You won’t take me alive!”
Jon swore and signaled Artemis not to open fire. Instead he said in Cheunh: “Easy, easy, we’re not your enemies… I think?”
Put a little off my a human using the chiss language he asks, “You’re not one of the bounty hunters selling me to the empire?”
Jon raised an eyebrow, beginning to suspect the situation. “Uh… which Empire would that be? Specifically?”
“You’re joking right? You haven’t heard that Chancellor Palpatine remade the republic into an empire and declared himself emperor? It’s been like six years since then”
He is Still in a combat ready stance but has lightened up a bit
“I was hiding from an inquisitor but apparently there is a smuggler base on Myrkr. They caught me and sold me to some Gand bounty hunters and the bounty hunters put me in there.”
He at this point has dropped his arms and is more docile
Well that raised all kinds of fun question Jon was in no interest to answer right now. Over his shoulder he heard Artemis chuckle in her blooping droid way, and signalled her to politely shut it; he didn’t need his grandfather’s droid reminiscing about their Imperial days right now.
“Right, look, we need to get you to a med wing. Like, now. You good to walk?”
“Why would I not be able to walk? I was shipped across the galaxy not poisoned or paralyzed.”
“I do feel a bit dizzy”
Jon opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He took the Chiss by the hand and led him out of the cargo bay just as the squad of medics in Vatali uniform arrived. Like most of the settlers, they were Sephi.
As he follows you he asks, “What exactly is going on here?”
“You’re giving me vague hints at some sort of very large problem what is wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing, I just uh… hmm, how to explain. Well, the short version is you were in that pod for a bit longer then you think.”
“What like they kept me under for a couple of years?”
“Why was I in a room of scrap?”
“Uh… you said you went in six years after the end of the Clone Wars, right?”
“Something like that, I had little use of tracking time.”
“Ok… uh, don’t freak out, alright mate?”
“Alright?” He says obviously confused
“These meds can get you some great stims to relax if you think you are freaking out, so just let me know if you need ‘em.”
“You’re stalling”
“How long was I out?”
“Math says… 57 years?”
“Give or take.”
He just stares at you for a long moment letting that hang in the air.
“The good news!” Jon interrupted
“Is that Palpatine has been dead for 40 of them!”
“Is this some crazy attempt at recruitment by Gerrara? I already told him he’s insane and will get himself killed and me with him.”
Jon wracked his brain at who “Gerrara” might be; he vaguely recalled his grandfather mentioning chasing someone by that name in his ISB days.
“Uh, no. Math checks out. Welcome to the year 44 ABY!”
Jon frowned. “No, wait, you don’t know what that means.”
“Could you use the galactic standard calendar?”
“That is the galactic standard calendar… now.”
“You’re being absolutely serious, I’ve been under sixty years?” He asks soberly
“Fifty-seven,” Jon corrected.
“I was rounding.” He snaps back.
“So what they just assassinated Palpatine? Who was leading the rebellion at that point?”
“Probably senator Organa right?”
“Did any other Jedi ever return? Who survived the purge?”
Jon shrugged. “That was all before I was born, you understand. If you mean Bail Organa, no, he died when they… uh… well, he died. Someone named Mothma was their leader as far as I know, I didn’t really get the standard New Republic K-12 program.”
Jon thought for a moment. “But if its Jedi you want to meet… boy do I have good news for you.”
“You know some Jedi?”
“It must be one of the longer living members, Yoda maybe I doubt they killed him. Maybe…” he gives a few more examples I don’t know off hand but he would.
A large pink starship descended toward the spaceport, its engines humming softly as it settled onto the landing platform with slow precision. A wide boarding ramp lowered , and from within emerged a female Zeltron clad in flowing white Jedi robes. The fabric shifted elegantly around her as she stepped forward, lowering the hood from her head to reveal light pink skin and silver eyes gleaming with amusement.
Behind her came two enormous rancors, each forced to duck their massive heads beneath the frame of the ramp as they lumbered after her. Their heavy footsteps shook the duracrete beneath them, though both creatures remained remarkably calm as they followed close at her side obediently.
The Zeltron had answered Jon’s comlink summons, though the stop served another purpose as well— to refuel the ship, allow the rancors time to stretch their legs, and perhaps indulging in a bit of socializing.
“Jon, Jon, Jon Silvon… now there’s a face I haven’t seen in quite some time,” she said warmly with a grin spreading across her lips as she approached. Her gaze shifted toward the unfamiliar figure beside him. One brow arched slightly with curiosity, as she offered a small wave in a friendly greeting.
“And who might your friend be?”
“Eliwufe’en’omfo, but almost everyone I kno-,” he catches himseld, “Knew called me Eeno, veteran of the clone wars and former padawan of the Jedi Knight Xald Urvax.”
“A Veteran, you say?” Syrena paused for a moment. “Well then, thank you for your service.”
She gestured for both the rancors to step forward. They each lowered their massive heads in a greeting. “These here are my companions, Zephira and Mavrix,” Syrena began. “Now, I know. I know. They might look scary, and they can be in combat… But rancors are really such misunderstood creatures.”
“Many creatures can be tamed through the use of the force,” He says looking at the large creatures, “Many without as well.” He pauses for a moment than realizes that the mention of the clone wars didn’t seem to phase you and asks, “You realize when the clone wars took place right?”
“It happened a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” Syrena continued with a laugh. Though she paused for a moment and sat down, reaching for a flask strapped to her hip. “Actually, not that far,” She finally said as she took a swig from her flask.
“I was told you are a Jedi of this era, have the Jedi rebuilt after the purge?” He asks putting his hands behind his back not exactly sure how to respond to a Jedi being so informal.
Syrena sighed for a long moment, gazing up at the sky briefly. “Yes, and… no. We have a few temples, especially in this region of the galaxy,” She began slowly.
“But we are far and few between… There are some of us here, though. Within Clan Odan-Urr, I mean.” Syrena continued. “The teachings are still…. Somewhat of a foreign concept to me. I hope to reach enlightenment through the Force, one way or another,” She said as she took another sip from her flask, savoring the burn of the drink.
“Want some?” Syrena asked, extending an arm to offer him the flask.
“Is it alcohol?” Eeno asked eyeing the drink suspiciously
“‘Englightenment through the Force’?” Jon spoke, then swore as the two Jedi in the room turned to look at him; he’d been letting the two have their moment, but for some reason he spoke before thinking. Which in and of itself, was out of character for him; even Artemis turned to look at quizzically.
Jon leaned against the frame of the door, attempting to play it off. “And what does that mean, exactly?”
Eeno turns to you and answers, “To become cut off from one’s own material lusts and desires and to, before death, become one with the force. To let yourself act as a conduit for the light of living force, and become a servant to it.”
Jon made a face.
“Ugh… so you have to give up fun forever and ever. Joy.”
“Not necessarily, there are still times of peace where the force will not call on you but in uncertain times you would be a bulwark against evil, a living testament of the force itself. You may need to give up many things, gambling was prohibited within my order and my master taught me to avoid vile drink, but a Jedi can still enjoy the peaceful times.”