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Open Space and Asteroid Field


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Post Sun Dec 16, 2012 10:05 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

“Books?” Malora stared at Daniel levelly for a moment. “…Yeah, we’ve got a whole library actually, two stories, floor to ceiling, any book you could imagine. Pretty sure we even have a pop-up book section, if you’re into colors and pictures.” She watched him, a smile growing as his face lit in excitement, then narrowed in suspicion, and finally registered clear uncertainty. It couldn't be helped; she grinned good naturedly, her eyes sparkling with amusement, leaning back in her booth once again. “Sorry. I’ll be nice now. Haven’t seen a book in years, Logan, and even if we DID have a massive floating library, I doubt I’d have time to read anything. But hey, thanks for cleanin’ the ‘fresher.” There was a muted crunch as she finished her candy. “You’re braver than I am, that’s for sure.”

Chewing idly on the lollipop stick, Malora played with the edge of the table, picking at a dent in the surface as she studied him openly. He looked a little uncomfortable, but he was on a ship full of strangers. Strangers who ‘read’ weapons like he read books. The guy was way out of his element and if he wasn’t floundering yet, it was probably fast comin'. Making him comfortable was more of a job for Myranda or Sam. They were social. Hell, even Liya, explosions and fire extraordinaire would probably have been a better ‘welcoming’ crew than Malora. She was bad at small talk and she knew it. She also knew that if she got Daniel talking about HIS world, he’d keep talking until the end of days. Glasses, likes books, is leading search for ancient artifacts. Yeah. She knew the type.

Malora shot Daniel a quirky half-smile. “So, you’re the artifact guy, right? Smart one o’ bunch? I kinda slept through the presentation, if there was one. You, uh… You ever worked with this Dante guy before? And what’s the deal with this artifact anyway?”
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Post Sun Dec 16, 2012 11:07 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Raised hopes only to have them crushed with a laugh, Daniel should have expected as much, but he wasn't upset about it, in fact he laughed along with her knowing how silly the question must have been now that he thought about it, or it could have been the lack of sleep giving him the giggles. He nodded, still laughing, as she thanked him for cleaning the bathroom, "Don't thank me yet, you haven't seen it."

Seeing her appraise him was a little strange for him, especially since she was doing it so openly, he didn't normally get it from someone so attractive but he figured that she was here because the captain wanted to size him up a bit more than he already had. Daniel did the same to her, he wanted to know who exactly he was working with and so far he had liked Jace and Sam, though his recollection of Sam was limited since the attack. Mack was alright as well, but Daniel didn't feel as comfortable around him, at least not alone, he couldn't tell if the man was insane or on his way there, or just playing the part, since mind games are an effective stategy.

"The artifact guy? Is that what they're calling me?" He jested, "I suppose so, though I wouldn't say I'm the smart one of the bunch just yet, there are a lot of smarts out there, I'm pretty book smart though." He smiled as he finished, he was being modest of course, but with reason, he wanted to identify with these people and earn their trust and no one trusts someone if they think they're looking down on them. In Daniel's experience if someone openly says they're smarter than you then they think you're beneath them, he didn't like feeling that way and he wouldn't want someone feeling that way because of him. "And don't worry, there wasn't a presentation, not yet anyway."

His brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Dante and he cleared his throat, then started to fidget around, the subject clearly made him slightly uncomfortable but mainly because Dante seemed crazier than Mack and much more uncontrolled or unstable, "Dante?...Uh. No." He paused a second or two and then scooted closer to her, lowering his voice, "I thought I was supposed to meet a man named Dorian in the bar, but I think he ran away when those things came. I'd never met either of them before then, but Dante seems...unhindged. Between you and me, I haven't had much chance to talk to him though, and part of me wants to keep it that way. Just make sure you stay cautious with him." He nods then scoots back to his original spot, "Anyway you asked about the artifact," his voice returned to it's normal tone, "it's called the Eye of Ono Kli, there isn't a lot of information on it but what is known is largely considered a myth." He decided not to get too into detail unless she asked, something told him that she wasn't actually interested in a history lesson and as he suspected earlier she was probably only here to size him up.
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Post Mon Dec 17, 2012 6:37 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Wha-?!

Oh. Right.

Mack sat up with a start, waking in a flash and drawing his pistols to aim at - the wall. He blinked, confused: hadn't there been something needing shooting... or... eh, whatever. The pistols went away again, and Mack rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He knew where he was, knew all of that, but for some reason his brain was taking a second to fire up properly... ah, there we go. Objective: find the woman. Mack grinned at the thought of her, and pushed himself to his feet.

Something fell to the ground and clattered at his feet. Mack bent down and picked it up.


Karana Malora wrote:Malora turned it over and hastily scrawled the words 'Family meeting on the bridge. Stay here!! Talk soon. – ‘lora' with the lipstick on the back. She tucked the folder next to Mack, valiantly resisting the urge to stare at him longer, and half ran through the hallways on her way to the bridge.


Oh. Okay.

Mack set it back down and sat down himself, squatting cross-legged and sliding his boots off. He'd wait, then.
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Post Thu Dec 20, 2012 8:31 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Still facing Fel's general direction, Seros felt that familiar presence approach from behind. He turned to affirm the feeling, and sure enough, there was that unmistakable spikey hair standing atop a young, yet grease-stained face. Half the reason Oz was so good at what he did was due in part to the Force. Seros had suspected it before, but despite his own lack of 'Master-ship', Seros knew it wouldn't have been wise to expose that little tidbit to someone in Oz' position. Sometimes, growth works best without tampering from outside sources. And Seros knew Oz had a good heart.

"Oz! Good to see you in good health." *gestures back to Fel.* "This here is Captain Fel. He requires your indubitable talents."

Oz Griffin wrote:"Uh, hi. Where's the repair job? You said there was a repair job. This Lorry isn't exactly brand new, but she's not beat up either." *The disappointment in Oz's voice was just as obvious as the fact he was trying to hide it.*


Seros didn't take offense to Oz' attention being directed immediately to the task at hand, despite Seros having saved his life. He lived for what he did, always on the move, with something always filling his task queue of sorts.

Galdaart Fel wrote:*Fel stuck the hand-rolled in the corner of his mouth and inclined his head -- follow me. They walked back up the ramp to behold the battered YG-4210, resting on her Starboard superstructure, the entire affair on a sickening angle. The cockpit canopy was burst like a ripe grape, and there was obviously extensive systems damage.

Fel drew up short, not approaching the ship too closely...*


Seros followed the two up the ramp in trail, remaining silent. He was wondering both how Kaali was faring, and how they'd meet, being that she had headed towards the other skips. But before that could happen, Seros began thinking of what he could get while he was here on the Indy, to resupply himself before heading off wherever fate would lead both of them.

Galdaart Fel wrote:She's my pride and joy. Two droids there need repair too. The Astromech -- I just need somebody to help me with him. *a reflective pause* Priority is the UA, and if there's time and money, some mods to the Loronar would be good, too.


Oz Griffin wrote:"GAH! What the hell...!?! Who did..?! Where?! Gah. Nevermind. Just get that loading door open. We need to get her out of here. *The questions came in a torrent, none of them finished before the next was asked, the cut off as Oz set about the business of reviving what seemed to be a terminal patient. Slowly, almost reverently (or maybe lovingly), he walked forward and laid a hand on the UA's bow.*


Now this was interesting.. Seros had felt Oz' Force signature, but it was suddenly being amplified upon his touching the surface of the ship. He watched intently.

Oz Griffin wrote:*The flood of images stopped when he jerked his hand away and stumbled back.* *What the hell?* *He'd experienced general sensations from ships before, even been able to see where their faults lay with a single glance, but never before had it been so vivid, so real.* *Ok, WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED!?! And what's a jekk? And why were they trying to kill her?* *He turned to the captain with murder in his eyes (or his closest approximation of murder anyway).* "They'd all better be dead.....The things that did this to her. Uh, whaddya call 'em... the, uh, jekk? Yeah. Jekk."


A stern, solid expression had overtaken Seros' face. "...Well damn, Oz." Seros' eyes shifted to Fel, who would undoubtedly be flared with some sort of wary or shocked amazement, then back to Oz. "..Don't know what to say to this..."

*What COULD he say? He wasn't part of the Order, and Oz no doubtedly was getting a fix on his Force sensitivity. What was it with the Force nowadays? First Fel, now Oz. All hardened well into their disciplines, now unlocking the tip of the iceberg of their potential. And Seros was in the middle of it. Was this the Force's 'humorous' way of telling him he needs to 'shape up' or get his own act together? That's a lot of work for a Master to gut through should they choose to take it. And Seros...


...he didn't want anything to do with it. He wasn't worthy enough for that, by a long shot.*


Oz Griffin wrote:"Could you get that door open already? We need to get her out of here before I can do anything. Indy! Get a crew over here. And clear out my workshop." :: Certainly. The crew should arrive momentarily. ::


Oz went down the corridor, and Seros stayed put, silent as a lamb, hands on hips..waiting for...well, at this point he wasn't sure what he was waiting for now. Perhaps a moment alone with Oz. Perhaps a more direct inquiry from Fel about what had just happened. He was almost as shocked as he suspected the captain would be, but...at least he knew that the captain would leave here well supplied, well repaired, and well ready for whatever awaited them.
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Post Sun Dec 23, 2012 9:56 am

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*The old Smuggler watched as Oz disappeared into the UA, caught a glimpse of Wrench's dead photoreceptor as Oz passed him, still pinned to the bulkhead in the cockpit. The pilot turned away, a new nauseous pain burning in the pit of his stomach. His friend, his partner of almost twelve years -- his conscience. The little droid was truly good. Good like Fel had never been. Pure of thought and loyal of function and action in a way that was foreign to Fel. Wrench lay there, like the final victim in a crime-scene strewn with bodies, and he had turned away -- more concerned with the breathing and the bleeding.

He turned to Seros, the pain evident behind his organic eye. He had felt - something, when Oz had spoken of the ship and her condition, but rather than question it -- maybe Seros had mentioned the Jekk to Oz in a private communication, it made sense -- Fel immediately saw that his ship was in the right hands. Caring hands that would see the repairs through to the end. Nursing, not welding. Mending, not wrenching.

And with the pain, came anger. Clean, purifying anger. Anger that directed his focus, gave him singular purpose, drew him up to his full height, blotting out the ugly pictures in his head. He'd make them pay. He'd wring the life out of Galen with his own hands for what he'd done, what he'd taken from them.*


Thank you, Seros. I can see -- he'll do what needs doing. Not many would.

*He exhaled, a breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding, and looked up again at Wrench, the dome of his head caved in, his features scorched and spattered in hydraulic fluid -- his life's blood. This time, Fel didn't look away.*

I need to help him. This is why we're here. To get healed. *looking back at the robed figure* You've provided us with a future I hadn't thought possible. This place, it's a haven. I can see that now. Look -- you said before that you'd disembark here, and I can think of a thousand reasons why you should. But for the one reason I can't put my finger on, the reason just out of reach, like an itch I can't scratch -- I think you should stay. I can't force you, and if you have to go, ok, go. *pause* You've done me and mine a great service.

*Fel moved forward, toward the blackened bow of the UA, and climbed up to the cockpit, following Oz through the shattered canopy. He could hear the diminutive mech muttering to himself and -- talking? -- to the UA as he moved aft, his voice dimming into the background. Fel stayed on the bridge, sitting awkwardly in his chair across from Wrench, a few feet away, his head turned toward Fel. It was all so ordinary, the space, the creak of the floor, coupled with a layer of smells and damage like a tracing paper overlay on a familiar scene. He looked at the console in front of him. There was a clean spot in the shape of the picture of Malora, now gone.*

Right. Time to get you out of there, Trashcan.
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Post Sun Dec 23, 2012 11:52 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*There was nothing but the slight sound of pins in holes, the slight “shink” of magnets influencing pins. His movements were guided by unconscious thought, his limbs moving with the drive of an automaton – unthinking and unwilling to pause, lest he suffer the consequences. The mind bore on in an endless drone, a great dividing line in his mind – the line between sanity and insanity. The two struggled with each other, in what felt like an eternal struggle, the insanity fought to halt his movements, the sanity to keep them going.*

*How long had he been moving? Three hundred and fifty pins in a three dimensional matrix, how many pins had he completed? He had lost count...he thought he was at the end. Was he? Or had he just started? His head throbbed...he couldn’t...remember. Which number was he at? Forty-five and seven. The next was seventy-eight and nine...*

------------------------------------------------------

SEVENTY YEARS AGO

*A haggard man sat in a clinic, his eyes puffy and sunken into his skull, his hair matted and oily. His clothing was dirty and soiled, his nails long and yellowing...worse still, was the lines of scars crossing his arms – self inflicted cuts. Silently, the man sat in a chair in front of another man, a doctor by the looks of it...*

*Silently, the doctor leaned forward, studying the man. A datapad in one hand. The doctor was a minder...the equivalent to our modern psychologists. Specializing in mental care, he had been given the unique opportunity to study a force users...and to attempt to help him overcome his trauma.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"You need to try and press on. We've been over this...dwelling on the past won't help you."


*Balefully, golden eyes looked out from under matted hair, a sneer crossing the mans golden face as he listened to the doctors words. The doctor though, only held up a hand.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"Dante. Your eidetic memory isn't forcing anything on you, or your mind. The memory, even one such as yours, is a tool. One used for recall...it doesn't recall anything unless the mind wants it to. Unless YOU want to.


*Anger, rage, the golden man quickly stood, his once noble and aristocratic features - now sunken and pallid from sickness - twisting into a vissage of hate...and something more...pain.*

=Dante=
"You think I WANT THIS? You think I want to remember this? I was a GOD. Able to lift objects with my mind! Able to kill and destroy what I wanted! To give life to what I wanted! Look at me now! LOOK AT ME!"


*The Firrerreo's voice rang out through the clinic, and Doctor Isaacs only passively watched the man, and jotted a few observations down on his datapad. At the notice of the cuts on the mans arm though, The Doctor shook his head.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"Have you been trying to hurt yourself again Dante? How many times did it take you to actually make scars on your skin...your healing factor must be suffering in the wake of your disorder."


*Dante's lips once again twisted into a sneer.*

=Dante=
"And so what if it is!"


*The doctor shook his head.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"Dante...have you considered the fact that you keep recalling these memories, keep dreaming these dreams, because they're the only way to keep your wife alive? That inside of you, you doubt your ability to see her again so much so, that you reach out subconsciously to see her? You know of your abilities in the force, and combined with your eidetic memory, your able to recreate nearly perfect reconstructions of her in your sleep...is it even remotely possible, that this isn't a biological problem, but a mental one?'


*There was a long stretch of silence, and the golden being sat back down into his chair. He looked...tired. So tired. Silently, he stared at his...doctor, minder. Friend.*

=Dante=
"...Of course it's crossed my mind. But, I'm a force user. Mental discipline is my forte. The discipline needed alone for force use is far superior to that of a regular being. Easily, I would've been able to detect the problem, and then eradicate it."


*At Doctor Isaacs doubtful look though, Dante paused.*

=Dante=
"Unless. You have another idea."


*The Doctor was silent for some time, before leaning forward.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"Not an idea. A theory. Dante...you've been coming to see me, for nearly five years. And during this time, I've collected data on you, ranging from medical scans, to simple conversations...and all arrows point to one deciding factor. Your wife, and your world, were taken from you. And since then, you haven't been the same. After these years of understanding you, of breaking down walls and barriers...I believe that we've come full circle to what I've always known to be true, and what you refuse to believe...*a pause, and a deep breath*...Dante, you cling to memory of your dead wife as a way of keeping the very last tie to your home world, and to your culture. You cling to it with such tenacity, because without it, you don't have a purpose. Alive, or dead, the problem will remain - with your wife, or without her, the fact is that you saw your planet be destroyed...and that trauma is buried in favor of hyper focussing on your wife. You can't control the death of your way of life. But what you CAN control is the locating of your wife...so you hyper fixate on that goal. By fixating on that goal, you make it into a kind of coping system...and with your mental acuity being so high, such mental fixation leads to unintended side effects...which brings us to present day."


*Dante eyed the man for a long time, silence growing between the two. Finally, Dante shrugged.*

=Dante=
"...Say your right. What do I do about it? I'm not a human, Doctor. My race is family and clan oriented...without something to call my own, without my home, I literally have nothing to live for. It's how we're biologically designed. How then, do I move on? Especially being a force sensitive...I have to cope with this...this sickness...the fact that my own memories are literally killing me."


*The Doctor slowly reached into his bag, and took out a bottle.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"...Dante. I'm just not sure I can fix you. Your eidetic memory is powerful, and capable of producing such vivid imagery that it has proven to override treatment, and send us back to day one of therapy. Combined with your mental acuity, it's increasingly hard to create change in you, further made impossible by your racial tendencies. More, and more, I become doubtful of my ability to FIX you. But. There might be a way to SAVE you."


*Silently, Dante eyed the Doctor.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"...It's a new drug, a memory blocker. Specifically designed for higher functioning sentients. Originally it was to keep hyper intelligence in check, to keep the brain from thinking itself to death, something that a hyper intelligent - but aging - sentient might find fatal. When used on someone with extreme access to their memories...it may have the potential to completely shut out such high degrees of memory, so long as it's taken regularly. Essentially, it would reset that person to a point BEFORE such memories occurred...theoretically at least."


*Dante eyed the bottle for a long time, before finally speaking.*

=Dante=
"I...was a very different person before Serenna. Cold. Calculating. I was the CEO of our planets primary arms manufacturer. Serenna showed me so many things...gave me warmth, compassion, love for other beings. I wouldn't even be ME if I took that. Not how I am now..."


*The Doctor sighed, and took his glasses off. Wiping them on his jacket.*

=Doctor Isaacs=
"To be blunt...you dont have much time. Your healing factor has kept you alive from your condition for years...but now that its shutting down...you can expect to see hemorrhaging in your brain soon. Perhaps permanent brain damage. Perhaps death. Im not suggesting you stay on it, just use it till you get your health back, then ease off the dosage so that you continue your search."


*More silence, the bottle sat on a table between them...*

------------------------------------------------------

PRESENT DAY

*Frantically, hands worked to open and defeat locks. Insanity sat on the edge of the mind...but was it TRULY insanity? Or was it the insane mind shying away from sanity itself? Was it the medicated mind, the now dependent mind, refusing to go back to the way things were? Pins fell into place, locks disengaged, and the frantic maelstrom of thought rose to a crescendo; the time had come.*

*Doors screeched open, the module relinquishing its interior to those outside. With a screech of glee, Dante began to walk forward...*

*PSHHHAHHH!!!*

*A light yellow gas puffed out of canisters in the ceiling, enveloping dante's head briefly, before evaporating away. It was over in mere seconds...meant for only one person; Dante himself. As soon as the gas hit, Dante himself collapsed like a sack of bricks, black lines starting to worm their way across his body, his eyes starting to grow black, his skin turning yellow under his disguise. His healing factor tried to counteract the disease, his matukai training synthesizing antidotes...but the damage was done. With a click from above, a hologram activated, and from the floor, Dante stared at the image...*

*Hideous beyond measure, the lizard / man face of the Thisspissian sneered down at Dante. Mottled sickly yellow and tar black, the creature ran its snake tongue over its needle like teeth in pleasure.*

=Strahl=
"Finally...we ssssee the facccccce of the master tacticcccian. The sssstrategissst. The geniussssss.


*As Strahl spoke, several flashes emanated from the holoprojector, and Dante face and boy were soon put up next to Strahls talking visage.*

=Strahl=
"very clever, ussssing disssssgusesss. But we surmissssed as much from you friend. Remember thissssss one?"


*Skin scabbed and cracked, lips broken, eyes swollen, the face of Dorian stared unseeing back at Dante.*

=Strahl=
"Thissss one ripped much information from hissss mind...between the ssssuffering and ssssqealing, we had much fun tormenting him. One ssssuch information, wasss the location of your module. Thisss one was prearing a trap for your OTHER module, before we learned it wasss a fake. Courtessssy of Dorian here...*Strahl gave the corpse a light shake, making the mans head loll about.*...it took ussss many days to crack the lock. But finally we learned much about you, Dante...many many things. My massster in particular, was mosssst interesssted in ssseeeing your faccce. Ssso we insstalled a ssspecial thermal imager along with a nasssty little gass trap. Even as we ssspeak, your image isss being compiled by our computersss...your nasssty little habit of changing your appearanccce will no longer be a problem for usss...now that we know what you TRULY look like. But do not worry...our ssspecial little presssent will not leave you alive for long...no...not long at all. Relissssh the fact that you outwitted usss for a long, long while...and dessspair in the fact you will never sssseee HER again..."


*The image of strahl faded away, being replaced by the smiling face of a beautiful alien woman...and on the floor, Dante could do absolutely nothing. Absolutely, nothing. Ther eon the ground, the gas invaded Dante's systems, shutting down very, very specific organelles within his cells...midichlorians to be exact. For you see, Strahl had sent Dante a rather special present; an aerosolized version of the death stick toxin used on Serros. Still in a prototype stage, the weapons first use was on an enemy of honor - Dante to be exact. And even now, it screamed through his blood stream, shutting down the force within him...theoretically, it would be incredibly lethal - as life could not exist without the force, taking away the force would take away life itself.

On the floor, he clutched his head, appearing as if a man on fire through the force. Was there any other comparison, the agony of having the force stripped from you? It was as if every cell itself was set ablaze, his body wreathed in hushed and twinkling lights, as if bright inner fires were slowly being snuffed out one by one. In another, it was as if he was exploding...the energy of the midichlorians being released in a single prolonged burst.*


*For Dante, though he heard Strahl's words dimly, an entirely different problem assaulted him...the line within his mind, the barricade that held back the tide, was dissolving away. Powered by the force, his ability to hold back his insanity evaporated as the toxin inhibited his ability to use the force. And with it, his body stopped producing the complex neurotransmitters needed to supplement his body...all at once, he was completely defenseless as his world came crashing down around him...for the first time in over seventy years, Dante REMEMBERED. He remembered what it meant to love, to fear, to hate. He remembered his home world in upmost clarity and detail, he remembed things such as compassion, and overcoming his racism with Serenna. He remembered long nights in the woods, marveling at its beauty, he remembered piloting a shuttle with Serenna, discussing having children...he remembered everything. In the blink of an eye, a man who had chosen to give up his life, to live out a life of forgetfulness and ignorance, a man who had been taking medication for so long that it had become his new reality, was shown how things had been BEFORE...before the medicine...before the destruction...before everything. As the force left him, as his body became cold to the touch, he saw, and above all...

He remembered. He remembered what it was to be sane.*
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Post Sun Dec 30, 2012 12:37 am

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*This was getting too close, as well as almost unbearable to watch. As Dante labored on towards his only salvation he could see the conflict boiling in his eyes, becoming ever fiercer every combination he completed. He remained crouched beside him, watching him as his mind slipped further into oblivion at a magnitude that he had never seen before. And he was utterly helpless. There was nothing that he could do to help, as anything he did do might break his concentration, as well as his only link to the island of sanity surrounded by chaotic memories. And so he remained there, beside Dante, and watched as he drifted away. His contact. Supplier. Handler. Leader. Partner.... Friend.

After what seemed like an eternity, a faint click emanated from the container a moment before it swung open. But in that briefest moment, one that should have filled Jace with hope and relief of saving Dante, it was replaced by that pressure the Force exerted on him when something was going to happen. His friend took a step closer, his mind too occupied to pick up the same warning that the Force offered. Jace's eyes flicked to the container, where he could barely make out a small container hidden within. Blinded by salvation, he stepped right towards the awaiting hands of death. Jace stood up and was bringing his hand up to stop Dante.*
"Wait, NO!"

*But it was too late. Jace took a step back and threw his arm in front of his face as a yellow gas covered Dante's head. As soon as it had happened, it was over. Jace looked back to see him immediately collapse onto the floor. The first thought that crossed his mind was that he had been hit by a nerve agent, paralyzing him and rendering him useless. Which if that was the case, then he may only have several minutes before he could be saved. But even from where he was standing, he could tell this wasn't the usual toxin. He watched as his physical features changed, from his veins to his skin and eyes. No, this was much worse. He may only have seconds as far as he knew.

He hesitated a moment before starting to step forward, which was when a hologram appeared on the container. Jace stopped himself and looked over, seeing a very unique creature looking down upon Dante. A Thisspissian. A creature far too distinct to mistake for anything else. He held himself back, making sure he was out of view while the hologram spoke down to his incapacitated partner. By the way it was talking, he assumed that the hologram only picked up Dante, and that he was safe from being revealed. Which was useful, because Jace was burning the image of the creature into his memory, as well as the way he spoke and the tone that went with it. If Dante didn't make it, he was going to find this Thisspiasian. And kill him. Brutally.

But now was not the time for vengeful thoughts, or plans for the future. He needed to act in the present, and keep his mind on it as well. He waited for the correct moment to act, when this creature stopped spouting out useful information. He logged everything into his mental databanks, right up until the picture of Serenna appeared. He had only seen a picture of her once, and it had been a special occasion. So as he saw her face, he leaped into action. Pulling his coat off, he tossed it over the holo-communicator and dropped to his knees next to Dante. Jace wasn't sure what was happening to Dante, but it was bad. He could feel the Force radiating from him like a fire, pulsing with everything it had. Jace could hardly stay beside him because it was so intense. But as soon as it had started, it was gone. Not just lessened, as what would happen if he had slipped into unconsciousness, but outright gone. His eyes widened as touched his neck gingerly to feel for a pulse. Ice cold. He couldn't feel him in the Force anymore. His mind wretched back to when he lost his own love, Linn. The same feeling of coldness. The same emptiness.*


*Jace's respiratory rate increased as he checked Dante's pulse, feeling it weaken.* "No, no, no no nonono... This isn't good Dante..." *He looked around to see if anybody was close by, one that would know what to do.* "I'm not losing you Dante... I'm not losing another..." *He watched as the tendrils of blackness slithered further into his veins. He called out to those around.* "We need a med-bay for this man! Get a cart now!" *He tore open Dante's shirt and felt his chest. Still colder than the arctic, with his heartbeat dwindling rapidly.*

"MEDIC!"
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Post Mon Dec 31, 2012 11:37 am

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*It had taken the better part of two hours to get Wrench free from the ruin of the cockpit aboard the UA. In the process, Fel had been forced to concede the loss of both the droids' outer legs, as well as the loss of much circuitry, which had become so fiendishly entwined with the inner workings of Wrench's droid socket, melted and fried into one grand muddle that Fel was forced to eventually cut away what was obviously ruined, just to get the little astromech free, like cutting back the undergrowth that had enveloped a cargo container on Balmorra he had to pick up, many years ago.

When finally the shell of R2P47 was free, Fel set to work with logic circuits and the intellex computer encased in the droids' radome, which made Wrench, Wrench. Removing the dented and damaged exterior of the duralminium dome, Fel could see there was slight damage, but it didn't look life-threatening. Some heat sinks were melted, and a few boards were fried, but nothing that lay at the core of the little droids' brain.

Nodding in what he hoped was satisfaction, Fel now spent the next forty minutes hauling Wrench's lifeless body through the UA to the planetfall ramp -- no small task, considering the droids nearly 200-pound weight -- even without two limbs and most of its head. A task made even more awkward by the twenty-five degree angle the ship was listing on. When finally he reached the bottom of the planetfall ramp, exhausted and anxious to know the fate of the little droid, Fel collapsed in a heap, leaning against the frame of the droid to catch his breath. The air was clearer out here, not as musty or full of the smell of burnt circuitry as inside the UA, and he breathed deeply of its restorative powers. Slowly getting to his feet, Fel waved down a passing tech who was making notes on the exterior of the UA, and indicated the droid at his feet.*
...priority. *The young tech, undoubtedly understanding the nature of Fel's terse instruction, nodded and hustled off, no doubt to retrieve the necessary robotics techs.

Fel exhaled, his breath coming more easily and regularly, not as shallow or rapid has it had been before.*


Time you went on a diet, Shorty.
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Post Sun Jan 06, 2013 8:09 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*Standing in the engine room, Oz ran a finger along a fracture line in the main reactor casing and began running the new specs through his head. The fracture wasn't visible, it wasn't even a true fracture yet, but he knew it was there just as surely as the reactor itself. Any more damage and the casing might have actually cracked, and then you'd be in all manner of knee-deep poodoo.*

*A little under an hour later, he'd run through five different repair scenarios in his head, from start to finish, and worked out which one was the least likely to blow the ship in half.*
*Alrighty then, first things first. I'm gonna have to strip her down to the essentials and see what's worth saving and what ain't, then haul in the new parts and build anything that Indy doesn't have in stock. Best estimate...* *He let the entire repair job play out in fast forward one more time as he walked down the ramp and ended up next to Fel.* "...Three days. Five if you want some snazzy new power upgrades. Gonna need a new reactor anyway, so you might as we... NO!"

*He lurched forward to intercept the robotic tech that had begun examining the R2 unit.* "Don't touch that! Can't you see he's been through hell? You can't just poke around inside his head like some freakin' engine housing. Go help the droids get the ship out of the... uh, ship. Or something. Just don't try and take anything apart, you'll probably just make it worse." *Oddly enough, the tech didn't seem to take offense at the outburst and just stood and went to open the loading doors of the loronar.* *Stupid freakin' interns... Always trying to fiddle with stuff. I honestly do not know why I let them stay (It's probably because they're actually good at their jobs) ...shut up.* *As the intern (tech) left, Oz was left standing next to the 200 pound droid chassis with only Fel for company.*"Uh..." *Great. How the hell am I gonna get this back to the workshop?* "...Indy? Send a couple droids in here to carry the R2 unit to the workshop." :: Certainly. They are on their way. :: *Right. Let's see just how bad it really is...* *Kneeling down, Oz continued to ignore Fel and began examining the R2 unit.*
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Post Sat Jan 12, 2013 6:19 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Oz Griffin wrote: NO! Don't touch that! Can't you see he's been through hell? You can't just poke around inside his head like some freakin' engine housing. Go help the droids get the ship out of the... uh, ship. Or something. Just don't try and take anything apart, you'll probably just make it worse.


*If Galdaart Fel had been the hugging type (he was most certainly not) there was not a single person in the 'verse he would rather have hugged at that moment. He had been in the presence of Oz Griffin for less than ten minutes, and never before had he felt better 'cared for...'*

fourteen years ago...

*Lt. Cmdr. Fel strode across the ball-burnished floor of the hangar-bay, his boot-heels clicking in unison with his wing and number three. The floor was clean enough to eat off, though Fel wasn't interested in food, only the assertion by his wing that there was an issue with the squadron's #3 bird. The spit-shine on Fel's boots reflected the wing's mech, 'Squints' O'Neil -- a stringy, mousy kid from Thyferra, was it? -- working on the port solar array of Fel's TIE/IN, the twin red stripes and X-Wing 'kill' markers a clear indication whose it was. Fel drew up, the two pilot-officers with him - his wingman, Arrek Teff and the young #3, recently transferred to the squadron, Alana Malric - flanking him as if in formation already.

The officer stood rigidly, his helmet squeezed under an arm. The tech continued to work away at the solar array, talking animatedly to himself. Fel cleared his throat. No change.*


Specialist!

*The tech jolted under the TIE's wing, dropping the tool he had been working with, and spun to face the CO of the most feared squadron in the Imperial Navy.*

O'Neil: "Sir!"
"Specialist, why are you working on the solar array of this Interceptor, when Lt. Malric has filed a report stating that there is a cooling and power distribution malfunction in her #3 bird? We have a jump in 3-0 mikes. My ship, as I reported following our last sortie, is in A1 condition."
O'Neil: "Sir, I, er, I realize the Lieutenant's Interceptor needs attention, Sir -- but I knew there was a tenth I could squeeze out of the power grid here, and I thought, Sir -- you might like the edge."

*Fel's brow tightened in concentration, and he stepped forward, closing the gap between himelf and the grease-smeared tech, lowering his voice to barely more than a whisper.*

"Squints, how long have you been at this?"
O'Neil: "Sir, maybe twelve hours. *hopefully* But I've almost got it, Commander!"

*Fel regarded the nerves lying bare for all to see in O'Neil: he was sweating, and his hands trembled visibly. Galdaart allowed the barest hint of a smile to crease the corner of his mouth.*

"Twelve hours O'Neil? For a tenth? ...Squints, the only edge I need are the men and women in my command, flying at their best. But I do appreciate the effort, Specialist. Keep it up... you're maybe the only tech spec I want working on my bird." *stepping back into line with the other two pilots, his demeanor returning to the hard-edged CO* "...Get this racked and ready for LODO-- 30 minutes, O'Neil, or I'll keel-haul your raggedy-choobies. The #23 prepped? *he didn't wait for a reply* Good. Get Malric rigged up for the #23, fueled and ready for dispersal. On time, Specialist. I don't want to be kept waiting."

*O'Neil had straightened his stained tunic, and snapped a crisp salute, but Fel had already walked away. Teff was smugly quiet, no doubt satisfied with the dressing-down Fel had administered. Aside from the self-satisfaction of knowing an underling had been put in his place, Squints had left the Lieutenant's mind the moment they turned away. Malric was more like a puppy, all but taking notes on Fel's every step. She had a lot to learn of military life, but she was talented behind the stick.

And Fel? The smile grew. He'd trade it all for the loyalty and skill of men like Squints O'Neil...*


aboard the 'Independence...'

*Fel smiled. Not the thin, cagey grin of a man plotting and bemused, but genuine warmth. He knew Oz was more comfortable talking to machines that he was speaking to people. He understood. Truth be told, he mostly felt the same way.*

Thanks, Oz. I know he's in good hands. No memory wipes, ok?

*Fel didn't expect much of a reply. A nod would suffice, and he wouldn't push for more. He turned, watching three extractor droids lifting the Unfair Advantage's starboard superstructure to prep for removal from the Red Cred, but turned back before Oz was out of earshot:*

You don't have any O'Neil in your family, do you?
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Post Thu Jan 17, 2013 12:43 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Galdaart Fel wrote:Thanks, Oz. I know he's in good hands. No memory wipes, ok?

*Fel didn't expect much of a reply. A nod would suffice, and he wouldn't push for more. He turned, watching three extractor droids lifting the Unfair Advantage's starboard superstructure to prep for removal from the Red Cred, but turned back before Oz was out of earshot:*

You don't have any O'Neil in your family, do you?

*Memory wipe? Why would I give him a memory wipe? I'm not some freakin' barbarian for cryin' out loud. Sheesh. Just because he doesn't have mushy parts doesn't mean he's just a machine. Some people...* *He was half tempted to say all that out loud, but was too busy looking wrench over to bother with actual interpersonal communication. The question about an O'niel caught him off guard though.* "What? Oh, uh... my cousin was an O'niel, before she got married. I think..." *What? I wasn't really paying attention at the time. Or any time during my childhood really... it's not my fault that machines are more interesting.*

*When the droids arrived and began to haul wrench out of the ship, Oz started following, then stopped and turned back to Fel.* "Hey, uh... if you wanna come and, y'know, keep an eye on things, the workshop is at the back of the main hangar here." *He raised a hand and pointed, indicating a direction deeper into the lucrehulk's hangar.* "Just follow the big yellow line and it'll take you right to it." *Then he shrugged, turned, and left, following the droids and their precious cargo.*

*Meanwhile, the larger droids that were working on transporting the unfair advantage had finally managed to remove it from the Loronar and began the process of attaching it to a ceiling-mounted crane in order to be moved to the workshop.*
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Post Mon Jan 21, 2013 12:34 am

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Seros, still having his mind picked by an unknown...well, whatever it was poking at him, telling him something was a bit off or weird about him separating himself from this motley crew...exited the Loronar, letting Oz and Fel work out their transaction. Fel was probably the most decent man he'd met in the past month, even before he got to Coruscant, despite his attempt on Kaali's ship. That was somewhat understandable on his part..and on Kaali's.

It seemed like her to want affirmation, so a flyby to sense his presence again, just to make sure, wasn't foreign to her character at all. It was a small facet of the precaution he took in requesting her to remain stealthy, but at least nothing happened. Couldn't be too safe out here. Black Sun had their hands everywhere, especially in prime black market hotspots like this. If they tracked or saw him at all, he wouldn't want Kaali anywhere near him, even if they had chances of winning a fight together. They'd add her name to whatever list they had to draw Seros in.


*Coming down off the ramp, Seros was about to head off to the main markets on the other side of the massive lucrehulk's interior, completely opposite his position...until he heard a frantic, gut curdling plea he knew all too well, come from the other side of the ship, even echoing off the metal bulkheads almost half a mile high...*

Jace Stealer wrote:"MEDIC!"


*Bolting to his left, Seros sprinted around the landing gears, finding a short-haired man leaning over whom couldn't be mistaken for anyone else but Dante. Seros hesitated in his trek only but for a second, remembering Dante's warning and threat back in the bridge of the Loronar..but he was unconscious, and his companion now had direct discretion. Good enough for Seros.*

"What happened?!"

*Taking to his knees, he intentionally let his momentum skid him across the hangar floor to stop next to them. While he looked to Dante's paling face, immediately pressing his index and middle finger to (where) his main artery (should) would be, on most humanoid species, he smelt something distinct..yet a tinge familiar lingering in the air about them.*

Slow pulse. Too damn slow for Seros' liking, but a pulse nonetheless. No breathing. His head ran a million miles an hour as (Jace) disclosed the fact of an aerolized agent erupting from the cargo box next to them. That could have been one of a thousand toxic agents, and it was obvious (Jace) didn't know what it could have been, but Seros' only concern was getting that agent OUT of Dante's system and restoring his vitals to operable condition. Closest medbay? Back in the Loronar.

*Seros maneuvered himself to lean over Dante's head and chest, avoiding strain on Dante's arms. Whatever breath Dante had, he needed to use, and hanging him by his arms to carry him up the ramp was not the best way to do that, nor to hang him over the shoulder. Good thing (Jace) was here.*

"Grab his legs. Let's keep him level and breathing as we carry him up the ramp."
*Seros held Dante up by the back, supporting his lungs, letting his limp head rest on his left shoulder, and (Jace) did well with his part.*

*Passing a very solemn Faith, and a now inquisitive pair of passengers in the main lounge, Seros ignored the immense burning in his arms from holding Dante's hefty person in such an awkward position, and felt the retorting burn in his muscles when they finally settled him down onto the nearest bed.

Within a full minute, they had Dante stripped of his clothes, most of his disguise, save some skin pigment (due by permission of Jace, having since claimed Dante had no more need of it..whatever the hell that meant), an IV with bacta hooked in, monitor wires placed over his vitals to monitor him, and fresh oxygen supply flowing into his nostrils. Seros asked Dante's compatriot the questions he needed to ascertain the problem as he scurried about the proper tasks.*


"What's your name, friend? What kind of gas was it? Color? density?"
*he pulled up Dante's eyelid with his thumb, shining that small examination flashlight onto his eyes that annoys the living poodoo out of anyone conscious, sitting in the seat for a routine checkup. He immediately noticed the membranous eyelids, trademark of the Firrerreon species.*

*Seros took a noticeable pause, with a slight recoil to his shock and amazement.*
"..No way." *Firrerreons were only species he read about, because the few of them that were scattered across the galaxy had the fortune of not being on their homeworld when the Empire gassed them all to hell before glassing the planet. Dante's compelling need for a disguise made all the more sense now. Didn't know if he was hiding from Imperial idealists or someone else, but Firrerreons tended to be made a target for something or another. Regardless..it wasn't any of his business. (Jace) asked for his help, so he would simply give it. The affairs of this group weren't his concern. He'd make sure he lived stably enough to be rehabilitated, then leave.*

*Seros leaned in again, to inspect Dante's eyes once more, ignoring (Jace's) very possible observation of Seros' double-take on his patient.*

"Bloodshot, like an addict." Seros mused. Dante's pupils seemed to be fluxing between small and dilated, which meant Dante's visual perceptions were probably going haywire, would he be conscious...which he wasn't. A hallucinogen. Definitely a neural agent. Jace Stealer, after giving his own name, then described the gas being 'yellowish,' and 'moderately dense, just shy of a light fog'. That meant the trap was meant for the one opening it, not a small crowd or group. Jace was fine, and well within witnessing distance to have given Seros such vivid detail. Seros also knew Jace wasn't disclosing everything entailed, but he appreciated that, to be honest. He told him what Seros needed to get the job done..if he could do it. Things were still very bleak at this point.

"Name's Seros, mate." Introduction was awkward, but Seros didn't let it bother him, all things considered. He figured Jace wouldn't need to know his name for a lengthy future together anyways.

*Having done everything in his power to help relieve the toxin from Dante's body, Seros didn't look at Jace before stating his next objective, just before he independently headed out the door of the medbay.*
"Gonna go check the box, see if I can find out what we're dealing with here. Lock the door til I get back." *And out he went, brimlined expression beading on his next location around every bend and corner, both dis-acknowledging the presence of other passengers, yet simultaneously telling them NOT to stop him for inquiries.*

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Down the ramp, straight to the box..slowing his steps as he approached, looking about scrutinously. From Jace's description of the scenario, it didn't seem that someone remote-activated the trap, but if anyone was watching from a distance, they'd probably be gone by now. Still, never hurt to be sure. Nothing or no one out of place.

Kneeling down next to the crate, the top had indeed swung open, revealing another unopened container inside. Seros' curiosity was just shy of brimming over, to be honest..but he also knew the benefit of ignorance outweighed the consequences. He kept his focus on everything else..like the popped open, depressurized capsule fastened to the inside of the crate's inner wall. Seros hardly needed to run his gloved finger across the inner surface of the capsule to inspect the fine yellow dust laced over and around it. The smell was pungent enough, and that sense of familiarity came flooding back to him. The memory was fresh enough anyways.

His hand found its way to the little black box slide-clipped to his utility belt. Popped the vinyl top loose, and pulled out one of the yellow colored vials. Looking about again, keeping the vial close to his person between himself and the crate so no one could see, he twisted the cap off carefully, and lightly wafted a sniff.


*Same scent.
Interesting, and nothing short of ironic in the least.
Seros wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, considering his own predicament. Was there a connection to Dante, this trap, and whomever wanted Dante dead? As far fetched as that would have seemed, Seros was somehow becoming less and less inclinced to believe in mere coincidences, but even then, it was useless to ponder right now. He had a dying patient to attend to.*


*Again, glancing about one last time, he replaced the vial back into its respective slot in the black box, and rose to his feet, making his way back into see Jace.*

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seros' heavy, deliberate steps could be heard well before he got to the door of the medbay, and the locked door flung open. Jace had been waiting there for him. Good man. Saved Seros from knocking.

"Aerolized deathstick fumes." he exclaimed to Jace. Looking to the monitor station, Seros saw that Dante hadn't died..yet. His vitals were faint, but stable. A miracle in and of itself, really. Seros practically spoke the progression of his thoughts aloud as he hastily continued his efforts to rehabilitate. That tended to comfort most patient's friends or family in times like this. "Never seen anyone aerolize it before, but I can imagine how they did it." he proceeded to a the closest drawer on the far side of the room, at the edge of the counter, pulling out a syringe, filling it up with a clear liquid, flicking the air bubbles out of it. "I'm supplying Dante with a fresh supply of oxygen, along with the bacta. Should help keep him hydrated as well as speed up circulation. ..Help run the drug out." he pulled the syringe out of the IV's tube as he finished speaking, turning to Jace once more, trying to keep the subtle evidence of personal experience in his voice quelled as he bent down on the side of the bed to retrieve a bedpan.

"...He's probably going to need this in about an hour or so." he set it down on the end of the bed, in between Dante's motionless feet, heels resting on the end of the mattress. He 'was' Firrerreon. As tall as they were elegant and confident. The males anyway. Females were just as short as an average human. Seros still found it hard to believe he was looking at what he considered to be a gem. But like most fashioned gems, this one's edges were sharp, and the observer was likely to get cut in some way or fashion. He wanted to stay and practically study the man while he was unconscious. Take notes and jot whatever he could down for his records and experience..but he had Kaali to find. That simply wouldn't do.

*Turning to Jace once more, he gave a solemn farewell before heading out.* "Best'o luck to ya, mate."
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Post Mon Jan 21, 2013 6:47 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*Fel followed the extractor droids, carrying his ship as easily as he carried a datapad. He walked through the vast interior of the Independence, eyes following the UA, which dangled twenty-five feet above his head, no repulsors, no power, nothing but the droids to prevent the ships' inevitable plummet to the deck. He bumped into no fewer than four merchants (or were they deck crew?) murmuring distracted apologies as he tried to keep up with the extractor droids.

His mind was full of random thoughts, as he squeezed past repulsor-sleds and refuelers: Wrench; Liya's progress on the Skip and the hope that they had made it thru the asteroid field; Malora, Wade. Oddly enough, their mission never crossed his mind. Maybe he was getting too old, too soft. The mission was their ticket to food and fuel, without it they didn't keep flying. But more importantly, his mission was the crew. The flying was the mission. What they did, who they worked for, what the latest struggle happened to be... it was mostly inconsequential, as long as they were together and moving on.

By the three suns. He shook his head, pulling his head out of the ceiling, where the UA moved toward Oz' workshop. That was about the lamest thing he'd ever thought of. He was getting soft. He banished the thought and walked into Oz' shop, just ahead of the two massive extractor droids.*


So, how can I help?
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Post Tue Jan 22, 2013 11:30 am

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

*The funeral pyre burned, he was bound at the stake - the fire was hotter than heat itself, his skin refused to melt. Agony incarnate filled the nerves with its venom, the strange death-beyond-death torturing the soul, refusing to extinguish the life it held in its grasp.*

*Toxins entered the body, disguising itself as useable matter; it was absorbed through cell membranes, where the toxin infiltrated the cells organelles. Midichlorians became diseased, atrophied, sickly...they couldn't support the cells...the force was slowly being stripped from the one on the table. With it, cells died as their midichlorian counts became negligible...life unable to exist in the absence of the force.*

*He couldn't feel his own body...the senses began to fade...his connection to the force began to strain. Like a rope that was slowly being cut, thread by thread he was losing the battle...he shuttered to think that would happen when the last thread was cut.*

*Reinforcement...bacta...rehydration. The bacta fortified the fight against the invader...immune responses were jumpstarted, fortified. The body struggled to synthesize a anti-toxin, as only a Matukai's body could...the bacta bought it time, the rehydration helped the process go quickly...but the toxin was resilient. Adaptive. Confrontational. Almost with a will of its own, the toxin evaded the efforts of the body...synthesis seemed useless.*

*Soothing cold, a blinding light...he could hear...voices? Serenna's voice...what was she saying? To stay calm? To focus on being well...to focus. It was so hard to focus...too hard to focus...how? How could you focus during this onslaught?*

*Lingering echoes of thought filtered through the mind to the midichlorians...the midichlorians set about reactions in the body...wellness...health...focus on health. The body worked to synthesize...the bacta delayed the inevitable...the mind rebelled against the inevitable.*

*Focus...he tried to focus...it was quick acting...a nerve toxin? A variant of this? Was this helpful? Focus. Focus on nerve toxins. On nerve induction. Focus.*

*The body began skipping antidotes, it was directed by the mind to produce a different kind of synthesis...anti nerve agents? Desensitization of the nerves? Potentially deadly. Synethesis ensued...a partial match was found. The body produced the quasi-deterrent...it slowed the toxin, but didn't cure it. It allowed the body to regain strength, the force to ebb back in once more...there was only one option; remove it forcefully.*

*The fire seemed to be easing away...slowly...or so he thought. He felt so...unstable...so....lucid of everything. Was it his imagination playing tricks on him?*

*The body reacted violently to the substance; Sero's disposed of it the only way how, but Dante's was far more versed and controlled...thick yellow sweat began oozing from every pore, black urine began pouring, yellowish black vomit was vacated, yellow tears poured in rivers...the body used every available resource to physically vacate the abated drug out of its system...and the more it did so, the more it gained in health. Until, finally, there was no toxin left...

Only a near lack of force sensitivity, and a foot half in the grave.*
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Post Tue Jan 22, 2013 3:37 pm

Re: Open Space and Asteroid Field

Galdaart Fel wrote:*By the three suns. He shook his head, pulling his head out of the ceiling, where the UA moved toward Oz' workshop. That was about the lamest thing he'd ever thought of. He was getting soft. He banished the thought and walked into Oz' shop, just ahead of the two massive extractor droids.*

So, how can I help?

*The workshop was large, easily large enough to fit two or three of the UA. Which was good considering the Barloz parked on the far side. The large doors that separated the workshop from the hangar area had begun pulling themselves open to allow the UA access, and Oz walked in through the opening just behind the ship, along with the droids carrying wrench.* "Well, I guess you could... uh, I dunno. You hungry?" *I bet he's hungry.* "There's this great little sandwich place right around the corner. Try the roast bantha with special sauce." *Delicious! Best sandwich ever made, and I'm not even sure they use real bantha. Come to think of it, where would they even GET bantha all the way out here? Ah well... ship to fix.* *The workshop was noticeably cleaner than the hangar deck, though there were still parts and projects scattered around the room. The Barloz dominated the room, and the smaller UA fit nicely into an open space beside it, but there were other things to draw the eye besides the two freighters. A six and a half foot tall half-assembled suit of armor stood in one corner, and there was something that vaguely resembled a human skeleton just barely visible inside a curtained off area in another corner. A contraption comprised of four robotic arms sticking out of a repulsorpack sat along one wall with an impressive array of tools and equipment, at least half of which was custom built and unique to Oz, and he walked up to the arms and pulled the repulsorpack on.*

*The unit hummed to life and as he walked toward where the crane had set the UA, one of the arms reached out and snatched a pair of welding goggles off of the wall-length tool bench.* *Alrighty, time to get to work...* *Accepting the goggles from the robotic hand, he pulled them on and used the two lower arms to boost him up onto the ship, then set about the long process of peeling away the charred, burnt, and broken hull plating using all four arms and their assorted attachments.* *Man... it's been far too long since I've had a shallenge like this.* *He glanced up at the barloz and his smile faltered a little.* *Well... ok, maybe not THAT long.*
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