station72 | [MISSION LOG] GET IN THE CAR

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[MISSION LOG] GET IN THE CAR

CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: Avera 9
WHEN: Day :156 - 160
SUMMARY: Welcome to the jungle muddy junk pile in space. Avera 9, pt.1
WARNINGS: None; will edit if necessary.

THERE IS AN EXPECTATION that all hosts meet on the flight deck; that much is obvious on waking - something that, strangely, all new hosts seem to have done at the same time. Pack your things, says a gut sensation. It's time to go somewhere different.

ONCE ASSEMBLED, it isn't long before Prince and Cathaway make their own appearances. They have a set of kits with them - one for each young host - and a square that unfolds into a data pad with mission details. Each kit contains some of the materials hosts will find helpful for their assignment, and the equipment is not to be traded away or sold, Prince explains. The rest, Cathaway adds, will be provided once travel is complete. And then it's time to get underway. Today that means piling into a sleek, arrow shaped ship with plenty of space to carry personnel and equipment. There are a number of bikes lashed in the cargo area, places for hosts to stow their things, and enough seating at each side of the carrier's interior for hosts to be comfortable. It's a short trip, Cathaway assures and then makes her way with Prince to the cockpit. Today, they're coming with.

Initial checks. Engines go. The landing circular landing pad under the ship turns, lowering down into the flight deck floor as it goes. The ship comes with it, descending into the cool dark depths of the Station. There's a shudder as it locks into the launch tube, as the channel overhead is sealed; there is no countdown, just a pulsing moment of anticipation-- and then rocketing, teeth rattling momentum and a bright, hot flash of joy as the ship is projected from the Station - as it sears through time and space and a hundred versions of the same universe until it comes to rest here: smacked out into real space hung above a murky brown planet, clearly visible through the massive viewscreen at the front of the ship.

It's a good thing there's not much to look at; Cathaway doesn't waste time before deftly setting a course, slicing down through upper atmosphere with hardly a shudder from the knife point shaped ship. The planet comes up rapidly and a hum passes through the carrier as it lowers - cresting down through dark clouds to be battered by rainfall and the cross cutting of wind. But it flies steady, sure, and in time they streak at ground level across muddy flatlands and massive stone slabs - skim across inert bodies of water in the slow process of expanding from the constant sluggish rainfall.

The ship eventually comes to rest in the middle of what must be a massive valley; it sets down with hardly a shiver, then something clangs loud and the ramp at the rear descends. Cathaway unhooks her harness and rises from the pilot's seat.

"Here we are. Be well and do well; try not to kill anyone." Yourselves included, being the unspoken addendum. "Make sure to return here at the specified time. We can't extend our time table to account for stragglers."

There is a pause before Prince adds, with an edge of silent reluctance, “If you find yourselves in a situation you cannot handle, call and we will come.”

And then you're free to go wherever you like. Welcome to Avera 9.

(click to zoom; blue is water; yellow is lowlands/flood plains/etc; green is higher, drier terrain; brown is for ridges/high ground)

((OOC Notes: You'll notice that this log only covers the first few days of the mission; this is to allow for player character decision making to effect the back half of the mission. That said, feel free to make your own logs and posts on the IC community as you see fit - just be aware that dating past day :160 may get a little wonky depending on how events proceed!

If you have any mission specific questions, direct them to the OOC post here. For exploration and salvage discovery, we've decided to give players a largely free rein for what items can be found. However, if you want specific mod-generated items for your characters to stumble across during their salvaging, feel free to use THIS thread to request that!))

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[She bites back the retort she really wants to give him, buries it so deep that it cannot be retrieved and exhales out of her nose.

Ahsoka doesn't sit, but she does cease her hovering outside of his tent and come around enough to make eye contact and absorb the warmth of his fire. She hardly paints the picture of a jedi in her present get-up -- the attire makes her look extremely lanky, highlights the awkward stage of growth age has left her with.

Her eyelids lower slightly.]

I don't know what anyone was expecting.

[Even a galaxy with so many species as their's, there was still a sense of an inner circle. You don't just show up on a world that you're unfamiliar with and start causing trouble.

She drops her pack to the side of her after she pulls it off her back and digs out a ration pack she'd managed to barter before all positive interactions had ceased between themselves and the locals.]

[If you're the First Order, that's all you do: rend worlds, stitch connections through force and fear and everything in between. That said, he was rarely so hindered in wrenching the life from a planet's local habitat as he is now. It sticks between his teeth, upsets the fragile state of his existence and how justified he feels within it.]

I expect my own brood to stand at my side when I defend them.

[He does not bother to glance her way, stare boring into the flames of the fire sat before them both, sparks lapping at the sky.]

A mistake I will not make again.

[Ahsoka pauses in unwrapping her food to glance down at him, frowning with curiosity. The way he so easily adopts the term 'brood' is disturbing to her, but she cannot deny the inherit betrayal she feels rolling off of him in waves.

It was hard for her to feel true sympathy for him, but their connection through the nest leaves her with a void she feels as if she needs to fill.

There's a brief moment of hesitation before she opts to sit beside the fire, sighing as she extends a piece of her rations to him wordlessly.]

You can't hold grudges here. Or if you're going to, you can't be so obvious about it.

[It was a transfer made when Cathaway drew him in, forcing his eyes open where he was so willfully blind. The Nest, the broods, their symbiotic link— all of it a terminology he accepted in the span of that single instant. And for a moment he stiffens, shifting to sit upright by degrees before his eyes turn towards her, followed by the rest of his body. Cathaway had told him to be patient, that the girl would come to him of her own accord.

Perhaps she was right.]

They're made weaker without me at their sides, not the other way around. [Stubborn. Prideful. Certain he's right beyond the shadow of a doubt. He could mirror Anakin, were circumstances different.

Ren dips forward, taking the offer without complaint - a silent truce.]

You can't force your will on people.

[This, she says more firmly and withholds turning the rations over until she is certain he has his attention with that statement. But she doesn't hold onto it for long. After all, he is Sith -- a dark side user. It had taken Ventress losing everything and being hunted to make her see the futility of her attitude.

She suspects the same of Kylo Ren. At least Ventress had some life in her (even if her mirth was too routed in sadism for Ahsoka's tastes) -- Kylo Ren is dour, his anger overrides everything.]

Why not? [He scoffs when he says it, expression twisted into pure skepticism and punctuated by the sloping line of his own scar as it slants.] It was attempting to reason with these lesser creatures that brought this entire conflict to bear.

[The wrapper's peeled away, pinned down with gloved fingers; he takes a bite before continuing, still chewing between words rather than bothering with a pause.] Had I opted to force them into compliance all of this could have been avoided.

[Ahsoka makes a point of waiting until he is done chewing before she speaks herself, leaving her own rations half-unwrapped in her lap as if she has forgotten them completely. In a way, she has -- too focused on trying to set the man in front of her on the right path, rather than a self-destructive one.]

Those so-called lesser creatures have forced you into camping out in scrap. I don't know if I'd be using those descriptors if I were you.

[She sneers visibly. How many times had she needed to play the errand girl simply because she was a young alien female? It grates her in the wrong direction to hear him talk about another people that way.]

[His expression drops alongside the focus of his stare: like an adolescent in the throes of a petulant fit, Ren's posture seems to sink in stubborn indignation. For all his intensity, for all the strength he carries, clutched close to his chest and wielded without mercy, his emotions are easily transmitted without the open link of the symbiote between them. So transparent he might as well be forged from glass.]

A problem I intend to remedy as soon as this night is over.

Or...you could stop acting like a kid who's had their favorite stuffed animal taken away from them.

[Now is when Ahsoka chooses to finish pealing the wrapper in order to fit the bland rations in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully and letting Ren simmer. Its almost sad to her how unprepared he is for what the world is really like -- almost makes her feel more adult, in a way. Then again, there were plenty of separatists and politicians that made her feel the same way.

Only after she swallows does she speak again.]

Your energy is better spent elsewhere, don't you think?

Doing what, exactly?

[Don't patronize him, Ahsoka; he is not a child, and his goals lie beyond the immediate sting of his own emotional wounds.

—Or so he thinks.]

Literally anything. You could go find more supplies. You could meditate. You could go find someone else who needs shelter and help them find it.

[Ahsoka isn't an idealist in the sense that she thinks Ren will actually be anything more or less than the selfish man he is, but it doesn't stop her from listing off alternative means of behaving.

She peels off another piece of her rations and rolls it between her fingers. In trying to think of other useful things to do, her mind drifts back to Anakin, and the ration goes flat between the press of her fingers.]

Being destructive isn't going to help your case with anyone.

[He feels it, though. The shift in her thoughts where they veer so wildly off course in that single moment of weakness. How could he not? They share more than a brood, they share the Force - they share concern for Skywalker and the recovery he no doubt faces. A single, equal point that stands between them, apart from either the dark or the light.

And for that, Ren opts to forget the argument at hand. There is little point in confessing a lack of desire to do anything she's offered up as an alternative; she likely realizes that already.]

He will be fine.

[Rather than answer his comment, her eyelids lower and she continues to avoid looking up at him. The flattened ration goes in her mouth wordlessly, and it almost seems like she hadn't heard him.

She did. His reassurance is hollow, and she doesn't want it. Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments. It was a mantra that was convenient for times like this, even if she was no longer part of their ranks.

But since she doesn't feel it to her core, all she can really do is sigh softly through her nose and try to change the subject.]

Tell me about the First Order.

[Even after the mountain of too-much-information that General Hux had dumped on her about the fate of the Jedi and other things, she couldn't bury her curiosity enough not to think about it. It's hard to imagine a galaxy without the Clone Wars -- a galaxy that might somehow not be better off after they had ended.]

[His eyebrows lift for a beat; he hadn't expected her to care about his origins, let alone the First Order itself. Trained, but not a Jedi - kept at Anakin's side (a point he disliked from the moment he sensed it across the distance) and yet she knows of the First Order. An enigma, no matter how he works it over in his mind.]

We rose from the ashes of an Empire brought to ruin by anarchists. [Knowing as little as he does of her, it's difficult to effectively begin to describe how much the galaxy needed their efforts. How much he— lost and abandoned— needed it when the pain of existence crept in and even Skywalker himself failed to temper the storm. Ren's dark eyes glint with the light of the fire, expression tepid. Strained, perhaps, beneath the surface.] The galaxy suffered. The Jedi did nothing, and the New Republic preached peace and inaction in the face of strife. Anguish.

It was the First Order, under the rule of Supreme Leader Snoke, that sought to leash the chaos.

[She absorbs the information like a sponge, lifting her head to watch his expression change the longer he speaks. The names don't mean anything to her. His usage of the 'new' Republic interests her, but not enough to ask after it. Judging by what Hux had already told her, its nothing she wants to hear.

There's his notation about the Jedi, and her heart sinks just a little. That information seems to contradict what Hux had told her about the Jedi -- about how all that remained were dead and gone, along with the Order itself.

It should be a relief, but something about the way Kylo Ren delivers the information doesn't sit right.]

So...the First Order is the ruling power. General Hux belongs to your order, right?

[Ahsoka reaches up and rubs the side of her montrals, eyelids drifting closed again. The Dark Side was so strong in the future -- so strong that it hurts to think about.]

None of those names mean anything to me.

Not yet. [They've yet to officially bring the galaxy under their heel after the destruction of the New Republic and its prized fleet. Were it not for the scavenger and the traitor, aided by the Resistance, Snoke would likely have already risen to power.

And yet if things had progressed that way, he wonders if he would have still been brought here.] We were on the verge of victory before the Nest's enemies found us.

[He chooses not to mention the scavenger's triumph before that; she does not need to know.] Hux and I shared power beneath the Supreme Leader. We had our places. Our purposes.

[And then there's a pause. Something weighted, something curious...] When are you from?

[Anakin is going to give her hell for talking to Ren when he wakes up. Hopefully, the other Force user is smart enough to keep from cluing him in.]

Before that. Way before any that.

[It seems Ren is not the only one who doesn't want to give the whole story. Another piece of rations is popped into her mouth, until there is nothing left in the wrapper to distract her from the second part of her answer.]

According to your General, anyway.

You knew him.

[It's the only logical conclusion to draw in the face of a bond he can feel. One that stings when he glimpses it, a promise that even his own blood (as is so often the case) favors someone else. Shares more with someone else. More insulting than Leia Organa's love for Poe Dameron and his for her in turn, more disheartening than Han Solo taking a wasteland parasite and a traitor under his wing with the adoration of a father past his prime.

His features shift almost imperceptibly; his chest feels tight. Compromised. He smothers it beneath the pressure of a measured breath, willing it away from his side.]

[Ahsoka feels him tighten up, and its confusing to her. She had done more than simply know Anakin, their relationship was ... complicated and different. She would almost call it forbidden among the Order, if anyone but Obi-Wan had seen how close they had gotten over the near three years they had commanded together.

The fact that this comes as a surprise is a little unsettling. Anyone who knew Anakin by any measure surely knew her -- at least if they knew anything about the Clone Wars.

Not that it really matters. She already knows he is from the future, so he couldn't have really known Anakin when it mattered.]

I mean, yeah. He was my Master.

[Talking about it in the past tense feels odd on her tongue, and she wrinkles her nose a little but says nothing else.]

We fought together in the Clone Wars for almost three years.

[For a long moment he says nothing. What is there to be said with his own pulse aching in his chest and the weight of reality curling tight around his shoulders? He cannot claim indifference; he cannot pretend there's no investment on his part, even subtracting the potential to wave it off as the bond between broodmates or those gifted in the Force. She was raised within its grip as much as he ever was, she would be capable of calling his bluff.]

I see.

[No wonder she resisted his offer. No wonder Anakin Skywalker behaved not as the legend he once was, but a man devoted to ideals he couldn't serve. His padawan yet lived. His attachment cemented and devout, most likely.]

I imagine this mission is nearing its end. Soon we'll return to the station; you can remain by his side as long as you like.

[The conversation suddenly feels uncomfortable, and like it doesn't belong to her. She shudders visibly and has to shake off the strange, deep-seated apathy that tries to sink into her blood when she recognizes it as foreign.

She stands so abruptly that she bumps her montrals on the ceiling.]

Why--are you like this?

[Raised as a Jedi, she knows better than to let emotion run rampant as Kylo Ren chooses to, and the presence of it stresses her as much as the inability to banish it does. A forced swallow calms her down, and she finds a handhold on the wall as her breathing regulates again.

Serenity. Peace. Calm.]

Look--I know. He's been through way worse. I know he'll be fine. You don't have to keep saying it like I don't know.

[There is strong determination in her voice, so strong that she almost believes it herself. But not having him near where she can monitor him is a cause for concern -- she can't help that.

But like hell is she going to let Kylo Ren try to pretend he cares about her.]

[Hours ago his shelter felt expansive - wide and comforting compared to the harshness dwelling outside. Now it seems to constrict around them, trapping them in the volatile mire that is the conversation at hand. The answer she demands would wound her. There's a risk in it, unmeasured and far from his ability to predict, and should she recoil from the truth he would no doubt suffer from Anakin echoing her sentiment once he returns to consciousness. More than that, it'd be unmasking the shame of his own rejection. All the reasons he could think of to stay silent, and yet after all that's been done, he hardly cares anymore.

Heat swells as the wind shifts, pressing the bonfire's flames closer towards them.]

Anakin Skywalker— [Ren finally starts, lifting his eyeline to meet her bewildered stare.] is my grandfather.

[In that moment, everything feels as if it stops. A look crosses her face that is utter disbelief, comically so as a scoff slips out of her.]

You--what?

[But she quickly realizes he isn't laughing. The Force is too clouded for her to be able to tell if he is lying or not but -- he must be.]

That's--the Jedi are forbidden from--

[He's still not laughing. Smiling. There's no doubt, there's nothing indicating that he is telling anything but the truth, and Ahsoka's sense of the world starts to bleed out of her again, just as it had when Hux had tried to tell her of the future of the Jedi Order.

Grandson. Not the first generation, but the second. She would have been well on in her years to see Kylo Ren as old as he is now.

She goes quiet, bewildered by the information and speechless for the implication that was carried with it. Anakin has a grandson. Anakin has a grandson who has fallen to the Dark Side. How is she even supposed to respond to that.]

--right.

[There's nothing else to be said. But if anyone tries to stop her from marching to Anakin's nesting bed when they get back to the station and dumping him out of it in order to receive an explanation, she might knock them out.]

[How transparent she is in that moment, the rolling waves of discomfort that bore down under his skin as if they were his own (they're not) and it takes all the strength of will he holds not to fall prey to either anger or despair - common as they are to his constant emotional state. In that tangle, he can't discern the root of her outrage.

He imagines she can't, either.]

He doesn't know.

[His future, his children, his fate— all of it beyond his knowledge and not for any small amount of effort on Ren's part. In spite of the discomfort that rises between them in that too-small space, there is an odd sense of relief in no longer restraining his own mind. At least for the moment.]

I kept it from him.

[She mouths wordlessly, too tangled in confusion and other various emotions to figure out what she wants to say to Ren in that moment.]

You should probably keep it that way.

[It comes out before she has a chance to think about it. It didn't exactly take a scientist to figure out that something had been off about Anakin ever since he had arrived on the Station. He was different...hurt deeply by something she has no concept of. The light in his eyes was dim, his heart was colder than she remembered.

So worried she was about the dark side's presence, that considering the fact that his own blood could allow it closer to him causes the snap reaction. In the moment, she forgets that Kylo Ren is just another man across from her, and not some all consuming force of evil.

Just as she might be a window, his feelings of rejection are hardly hidden from her. She thinks back to Ventress, back to how the Jedi had left her to the Republic's axe. Many things divided their beliefs, but they were all bound by one thread.

And its that thread that allows guilt for her snap reply to seep into her bones, and for her tone to warp into something almost apologetic.]

--the War...its done a lot of damage.

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