The Avalan Crisis: Disconnection
Posted on Fri Feb 1st, 2019 @ 12:11am by Thane & Bomoor Thort
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:01pm
2,936 words; about a 15 minute read
Chapter:
Additional Stories
Location: Iziz, Onderon
Timeline: During the Thirteenth Battle of Onderon, after "Return of the Rift"
OLD
"Find the traitor, get the truth, save the masters, convince two Royals to forgive one another, and stop a civil war." Thane shrugged awkwardly, looking out at the smoke and blaster fire ahead of them, and gave Bomoor one sad, hopeful smile. "No pressure."
“It seems padawan were made to suffer,” Bomoor hummed sarcastically back to his friend, as they cast their minds away from the deceased and back towards their mission, “It’s out lot in life.”
NEW
Another instalment of The Avalan Crisis posts, chronicling the young Padawans, Thane and Bomoor Thort.
OOC: Ambient war sounds: The Thirteenth Battle of Onderon
The pair continued, resuming their accelerated pace, towards the disturbance they had felt earlier. It had taken them a moment to re-centre themselves, but the unique worry and anxiety centred around the woman they pursued was like a tracking signature within the Force. Her sickening feelings of regret and fear at the consequences were being broadcast through even the din of emerging warfare.
The pair found themselves passing an ancient-looking sloping platform that appeared to go nowhere. Likely a remnant of the now-defunct Sky ramp. It appeared to be a cultural landmark within the area, with what seemed like some sort of abandoned information centre alongside it. Their destination seemed to be in that direction, so they trailed off towards it.
Suddenly Bomoor spotted their target and held an arm out, bringing both padawan to a silent halt. A row of communication terminals had been installed behind the centre and, huddled close to the end terminal was a feminine figure wrapped in the same shroud Thane had observed in the Drunken Drexl. She was frantically bargaining with whoever was on the call with her, the tension in her voice audible from where they stood, even as she fought to keep her voice hushed.
“We should try to find out who her contact is,” Bomoor spoke softly, “However, I cannot foresee any outcome that will not result in her hanging up…”
The two friends wasted no time in sidling themselves along a nearby stretch of waist-height stone fencing, presumably designed as some sort of seating area for the formerly popular locale. Whilst Bomoor was larger and had a somewhat more difficult time of concealing his bulk, the pair managed to secret themselves as best as possible and with little fuss, courtesy of a slight manipulation through the Force. Fortunately, it appeared their mark was quite engrossed in her conversation with her unknown contact, which was becoming increasingly heated.
Attuning to the Force, as Thane had done in the Drunken Drexl, the pair did their utmost to listen in on the courtly lady, which necessitated a slight glance over the stone obscuring them, serving as an unavoidable margin of exposure.
-“saw me with the bounty hunters! It’s only a matter of time before they tell Her Majesty. It’s too late; you have to get us out of here!” As if on cue, an explosion was heard from a nearby region of the city, dust brushing off the top of a nearby building from the rumbling underfoot. "Now!" She further demanded to her unknown contact.
The voice that returned on the other end of the line was even fainter to hear, even with the directional amplification provided by the Force. It was however, a calm and emotionless voice, like that of an administrative droid, although clearly an organic, “The security clause you agreed to included you alone. If you come with anyone else, we will not be there.”
There was a pronounced silence, as if the woman were glaring incredulously at the communications panel. "But... they'll take her! They'll hold her responsible in my stead - for what I've done for you. This treachery," the woman was beginning to sob heavily as she continued speaking, "it'll be the end of her, let alone me!"
“…not our concern,” The voice from the panel became even harder to hear as more gunfire and explosions drew closer, “…reserves the right… liability…”
As the unseen contact continued, the panic and fear within the noblewoman only grew and she seemed at breaking point. She felt like her own building explosion within the Force, just a hair away from breaking down. The concealed pair, particularly Bomoor, had to fight off their trained instinct to respond to those who needed aid in order to retain some chance of revealing the mystery contact.
“We are going to lose our chance soon,” Bomoor shifted in agitation, “Her contact won’t stay for long if she starts shouting at him.”
"You're right," Thane nodded, speaking over the nearby wails of the woman, who was becoming increasingly distressed and desperate at the unfolding events not going to her plan.
His instinct was, as ever, to grasp for his lightsaber. It was usually a comforting weight at his side and an encouragement to brush against its brushed-steel. However, Master Sotah had discouraged the behaviour, especially in an overt format, on numerous occasions - least of all for those who might see the action, but mostly in an effort to quell such innate responses in the young man.
Instead, he indicated towards the woman, preferring to let Bomoor take point in their approach of her - assuming she held no bigotry towards non-Humans.
Bomoor took a deep breath and summoned as much comforting energy to direct towards the woman as he drew himself up from his hiding place. He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and gently threw it into Thane’s grasp.
“Just in case she sees that first and panics,” Bomoor hummed softly.
He then hunched his shoulders over and began shuffling forwards towards the communications terminal, playing the role of the clueless Ithorian on an alien world: an all too common sight in the galaxy.
As he drew close, he called out in Ithorese, “Ren Buuntas!” before fabricating a sloppy Basic greeting, “Hee-Lo.”
“Who is that?” the voice on the other end of the line could be heard clearly by the Ithorian now, “Is someone with you?”
Startled, the woman turned to face the oncoming stranger, her face stricken with panic at suddenly being disturbed during her communication with her mysterious contact. Her alarm was made no lesser by the realisation that the newcomer was a hulking alien Ithorian, hands outstretched in standard greeting.
All of the cool ease with which the Onderonian woman had conducted herself in the cantina earlier had gone, her attractive features pulled back and rapidly-aged by worry and panic. Dirt and grime had found its way onto her clothing since then, staining the fine garments that identified her as a woman of noble birth, and there was a fresh tear running along her skirt, exposing a tanned, slender leg beneath, the clothing presumably torn to permit her greater freedom of movement in her rush across Iziz.
What was most noticeable and stark against her regal features, however, was the E-series blaster gripped tightly in her hands, the GalactaWerks-standard issue weapon shaking slightly between her fingers.
"What do you want, offworlder?" She demanded of Bomoor, her accent thicker with her panic, which itself was almost palpable through the Force.
From his concealed position, Thane felt his own grip tightening on both lightsabers clasped in his hands, sensations of both fear and frustration coursing through him. There was a temptation to yank the weapon from her grasp with the Force, or to simply ignite both blades and whirl at her, taking the woman threatening his friend unawares. Ultimately, he knew to have faith in his friend - and the goodwill of the woman to not murder a sentient in cold blood, even if she may have already done so before, and held the keys to Masters Sotah and Thurius.
Seeing the weapon, Bomoor recoiled slightly and resisted his own urge to simply yank the weapon away. But he could sense she was not ready to fire quite yet. Instead he poured his concentration into generating some basic connection between himself and the lady. Even the most fleeting connection could spark some sympathy or ease one’s mind, much as it had done earlier with the injured Drexl.
Still affecting a slightly broken accent, he spoke, “I ca-an hee-lp you? No-o need to fear.”
He started to improve his speech as he went on, feeling their connection growing piece-by-piece and seeing the blaster dropping back down to her side as she was drawn in, almost in a trance by his combination of acting and subtle manipulation.
But they were interrupted by the party on the other end who was still unaware of who was disturbing the call, “Your security has been compromised, I am terminating the call.”
"What?" The woman's attention was immediately drawn away from Bomoor, the alien's unexpected and unwelcome presence an apparently now-secondary concern for her as the connection was broken by the unknown speaker. "No! We had a deal - you can't do this! Minder!" She began to smack her palms down on the communications panel, which had now become conspicuously silent and dim of light. "Minder Two!" The Onderonian repeated, now almost in tears as she continued to thrash at the device, occasionally trying to mangle commands into the interface. "Minder Two!"
Watching Bomoor and the woman, Thane still elected to not yet reveal himself, and although his alarm had waned at seeing the noble's emotional outburst - clearly being a victim of some circumstance beyond his current understanding - his curiosity was blossoming further, as was his frustration at realising there was yet another layer to this Onderonian crisis.
Minder Two? He queried to himself as he spotted Bomoor drawing ever-so-slightly closer to the woman now.
The Ithorian tilted his head so he now had a view of the screen. While the call had ended, there was a readout of the call details, although it did not provide much of use. The call was likely routed through a dummy location beacon as under “Caller Location”, there was a string of nonsense Aurebesh characters, rather than a planet location or ID. Bomoor could see, however, that the call had not been very long; the Lady Octavia had only been on the call a minute or two before the two trainee Knights arrived.
The Onderonian continued sobbing, her arms draped over the panel in defeat, almost oblivious to the hulking Ithorian beside her. Suddenly, she seemed to notice the Jedi padawan once again, and, as before, the blaster reeled around on him again, shaking even more than it had before. "Why are you here, Republic?" She demanded, the term apparently derogatory. "Here to sell me to the queen... to your overlords? It's too late; I've already lost it all! They'll.... they'll take her from me now, for sure... I've... I've ruined everything." Seeing Bomoor inch slightly, her blaster pointed straighter at his trunk.
Knowing that the woman was likely talking about the girl in the picture, Maireen, Bomoor focused on that factor as he addressed the Lady, trying to make the best-use of his counselling and negotiation training, “Who will they take?” he asked, now speaking as plainly as he did normally, albeit with his usual Ithorian echo “I’m not here to take anyone from you.”
Venom entered Octavia’s voice from Bomoor’s last comment. “That’s what the Republic said last time!” She hissed at him. “And GalactaWerks! And even the Royals! That’s they said the third, fourth and fifth times… when they took the children as hostages, when they-“
A nearby blast and flurry of green blaster fire peppering the cloudy skies above interrupted the troubled woman, who regarded the spectacle with panicked eyes. Her blaster never wavered from Bomoor, however.
“I am feeling very uncomfortable talking with your gun pointed towards me,” Bomoor stated, “Perhaps we could talk somewhere safer. I have a friend nearby: I am sure we can help you sort things out for the good of everyone.”
To Thane’s immediate alarm, the woman fired the blaster beside Bomoor’s right foot, both hands clasping her weapon even more uncomfortably with the recoil that seemed to take her by surprise. Unable to resist the overwhelming urge to let his friend remain in such pronounced danger, Thane ignored the ushering hand of Bomoor and leapt out from his hiding place, drawing on his own Jedi Guardian training to place himself beside his friend, the brilliant blade of his lightsaber springing to life in defiance of the Lady Octavia.
In what was clearly in a panic rather than any attempt at killing him, Octavia released a reactionary shot at Thane, which was quickly redirected into a nearby wall, stone smashing and sizzling under the plasma impact. Had Thane taken more time to consider his actions, he might have been patient and hidden for longer, letting Bomoor continue without interference. He silently hoped he had not ruined the Ithorian’s play.
“Y-you!” Octavia exclaimed.
“Throw the blaster down,” the teenage Jedi urged her, his voice more forceful than Bomoor’s considered tones, although he was sure the lightsaber, held down in a ready but non-confrontational Niman pose aided his demand. He now wished he had directed the blaster bolt back into the weapon itself, but he did not trust himself to not hurt the woman in the process.
“So you can put me in chains? So you can take her away from me again!?” The blaster was now being waved from one Jedi to the next, her finger jittering over the trigger. She shook her head violently. “I won’t have her pawned off by some GW intendant, o-o-or thrown in the black cells of Unifar, never to be seen again. No!”
Now dealing with an agitated Thane as well as a despairing lesser royal, Bomoor did all he could to prevent his own emotions spilling out and endangering the situation. He looked at the shaky hand holding out the blaster and decided the best thing to do was to simply disable it. Therefore, with a firm tug with telekinesis, he yanked the blaster away and threw it as far away as he could behind them, meaning that, even if she went to retrieve it, she would have to go through the two young Jedi to do so.
The woman was panicked and looked at the pair in a moment of horror. But seeing that neither of the men leapt to strike her down now she was unarmed, she simply slumped down against the terminal and began to weep.
Bomoor ushered Thane to disengage his blade before kneeling down beside Octavia so that his hulking Ithorian form was somewhat closer to the slight women who now lay on the ground, “We do not always have the clarity to see the consequences of our decisions and a path, once begun upon, can be hard to walk back from.”
Since they had been here in the Skyramp district, the distant shouting and sound of conflict had grown louder and seemed to be spilling out into every corner of the ancient walled city, “But now Iziz is on the brink of war and the consequences of this path have been laid bare. There have been many people manipulating the course of events here, but sometimes it takes just one person to turn against it all and do the right thing to begin repairing that damage so that we don’t lose more lives.”
Trying to tap into the core of the woman’s emotions, he added, “If you help us, then I promise to do what we can as members of the Jedi Order to keep Maireen safe. Perhaps find her a place off-world like you wanted.”
Octavia looked over from the console, bleary eyes haloed by smeared makeup, her attractive almond eyes reddened and strained. It was clear to both Jedi how deeply she wished to believe Bomoor's promise. "Even... even after all of this? After what I have done? I didn't think they'd kill anyone. Really, I didn't! They promised! They... they promised so much." She slammed her hands down on the console in frustration, more tears streaming along her face.
"We aren't them," Thane said, embarrassment drawing his tone back from its previous fiery notes, his hilt once again out of sight. "We aren't on any side at play here," he tried to assure her, doing his utmost to convey calmness and understanding, even if he was not as practised as Master Sotah or Bomoor. "The Jedi may be allied to the Republic, but we promise you: we serve only the good of the people." He wanted to summon more words of encouragement to the woman, but Thane knew his friend had already said what was necessary, and there was no benefit to lying to the woman. "Maireen is innocent," he added. "Our masters are innocent."
Octavia's eyes moved from Bomoor to Thane and then back to Bomoor. With a few final sobs, she rose and tried to compose herself, head bowed in defeat. "If I come with you... tell you what I can... You will take Maireen offworld?" Her eyes, glistening with tears, stared emphatically into Bomoor's pleading. "You promise?"
The kindly young consular gave her a firm look, all trace of the bumbling Ithorian gone as he answered, “I promise.”
TBC
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