[b]En Route to the Tapani Sector – The Dagda[/b] --- Azazel lounges upon the bridge, staring at a shoe lazily lifted into the air. Xen grimaces and leans back from his console, covering his face and releasing a heavy groan. “Lady Azazel, the spies have turned up no new information on Zarra. Meanwhile, the bounty hunters had a sighting on her, but met with trouble. One of the survivors reported back that she had expected them.... She devastated their numbers and they will be out of commission for two weeks. They've retreated and need to rebuild...” Azazel breaks away from staring at her shoe, and the strange scuff along the side she did not remember. “Oh? Well, what a shame. Very well. I suppose we will have to rely upon other means to contact her...” Kitt arches a brow at her, confused by her nonchalance of so many dying. The Dark Lady had said something about her lack of concern for many. Yet, they had died under her instruction. She frowns and turns away, leaning against the wall. Azazel sighs and rubs her eyes, “How much longer til we arrive? I am growing weary of being aboard this ship and doing nothing!” “Soon, Dark Lady. Soon. I assure you.” “You said that hours ago!” she whines and buries her face with her arm with a harrumph. Hakkri rolls his eyes and reclines back into a chair at an empty console, clicking to start a new game of Solitaire. Rei'Ki peeks over his shoulder and directs him to do a series of moves. Hakkri growls and snaps back, “Hey now, this is my game. I don't need any help. You know, that's why they call is Solitaire. As in one. Alone. Me.” With a lurch the ship is violently thrown out of hyperspace, sensors blaring out alarms as soon as they get a chance to get online and register what was out there. Three frigate analogs attacked by a heavy cruiser analog with a small swarm of fighters, with no time yet as to determine what or who exactly are out there. With the lurch of the ship, Hakkri goes flying forward, his face smacking into the console with an audible thump. Rei'Ki's peel of laughter is drowned out by the sirens but Xen looks up to another segment of screen. “Three frigates and a heavy cruiser with a whole next of fighters. Cruiser appears to have a gravity well generator. Orders?” Azazel sighs in exasperation, fighting back a childish tantrum at being delayed before sitting up. Tell our fighters to prepare to launch... Establish a communication line with the cruiser. We need an ID on the ships before we get involved.” After a quick scan it appears to be that the frigates are of a variant used by the CIS as munition transport vessels. Nothing too strange about that since the front lines are not that far from the region of space they were traveling through, what was strange was that they were attacked by a Lucrehulk class vessel. At the same time as this information was coming in the hail was just ignored and the Lucrehulk and its swarm of fighters continued the assault. She continues to hold her hand up for them to wait as the reports file in. She hesitates before calling, “Launch the fighters, but hold back from attacking until my order. Attempt to contact the frigates. This does not sit right, these are all CIS affiliated vessels.” This time a response comes in, a panicked sounding man. "Oh thank the stars! Save us! We are being attacked by pirates, privateers, scum, whatever they are! We are getting pounded here!" As those words come through a wing of fighters destroys three of the engines of one of the frigates in a massive explosion. Azazel pinches the bridge of her nose, “Fair enough. Ready weapons and focus fire upon the Lucrehulk! Order all starfighters to get the opposing fighters off those frigates.” Xen looks at Azazel in confusion, and terminates the communication line, “But what if--” Azazel growls, “If it wasn't a pirate vessel, they should have allowed contact. They did not. If I am wrong, though, very well, I will blast them both to dust and salvage the scrap!” Fighters are launched and it becomes clear to the command crew on the Lucrehulk that the new arrival isn't staying out of this, mostly evident that several targetting sensors are aimed at the Lucrehulk. Changing course to face the new threat, a third of it's fighter squadrons break off the frigates and turn to engage while the Lucrehulk itself starts to show one of it's weapon arms in the direction of the Dagda. The Dagda fires its hypervelocity gun and the readings that came through before the sensors went out and the bridge was covered in darkness was that the blast punched through the shields and straight into one of the hangar arms, blowing a large chunk of it off, making it spin through space. Azazel goes into a giddy fit of laughter as the last second report files in before the lights flicker out. She blinks and raises her hand, a wreath of fire wrapping about her hand and providing more light for them all to see by, “Well, that was a very interesting test run. Xen... We will have to rework the budget, though, I think and integrate a dedicated power supply...” She looks about, furrowing her brow, “What are you all sitting about for? Get the power back online!” [i]This is sure to mean a promotion![/i] [i]Shit, what does this button do... Why are these set-ups so strange, why did I become a pilot again... Oh shi--[/i] [i]Fire pretty....[/i] Azazel blinks in surprise, violet fire flickering a few sheds redder at the devastation ahead of her she could simply watch. How many of those small specks of fire were her squadrons, anyways. How Ibeth managed to keep track of all this was beyond her!... Though, perhaps she could use a little more training in the art of naval warfare. Perhaps Gra'tua may have a few good tips... “What is taking you so long? You are all lucky the life-support held or we'd all be dead by now!” “We're working on it, Dark Lady! Power will be up soon!” as if as evidence, the lights flicker on few a seconds. Azazel growls before looking at Xen, “Ready boarding parties. If it comes to it, I want a contingency plan for those freighters. Got it?” Xen blinks and nods, eyes flickering through programs before he whistles and gestures for Rei'Ki and Hakkri to follow. Suddenly the ship shakes as if it is taken fire and Azazel can see that several laser blast impact upon her ship, right before the systems get back on and her shields are once again active. What was damaged became clear as reports come in. "... D-a-a-ark Lady... uhm... they damaged the Hypervelocity Gun..." The same wing as before finishes the job and completely obliterates what remains the the enemy wing it had already severely diminished. Her other squadrons meanwhile are not gaining or giving any ground against the enemy waves of fighters. She was going to make a nonchalant comment about it being repairable before Xen releases a cry of horror. “HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT I WENT THROUGH TO GET THAT?!” Azazel winces and tries to get the ringing out of her ear before clearing her throat, “Well, we have other guns. Use them.” She turns to Xen and points at the doors, “You. Go. I want you getting over to those freighters now while we have the attention of the fighters.” Xen reluctantly ceases his fuming and snaps a salute, his two temporary assistants following suit. Meanwhile, Azazel looks over the scans. “Take out the approaching wing with whatever we've got. Direct one-third of the pilots to split off and direct heavy fire upon their ship's core.” One third of Azazel's pilots head off to the Lucrehulk while the other 2 wings made a daring move to lure the remainign enemy fighters within the killzone of Dagda's laser batteries. The simplistic droid fighters taking the bair as they believed their targets were fleeing before them, eager to execute their kill commands. When the signal was given they were within range Azazel's pilots suddenly increased their speed and sped away as quick as they could while at the same the Dagda opened fire with its laser and flak batteries. Simply obliterating the enemy swarm that had descended towards Azazel's Flagship. The other weaponry of the Dagda create some dents in the Lucrehulk's shield, some punching through before it's armour stopped them from doing any real damage however. The cruiser decided to return the favour and opened fire with all weapons facing the Dagda. Numerous blasts reached her and all hit her dead on. Xen looking at the screens the first to see it, their shields were completely gone... and they only had their armour to protect them. Azazel's heart-rate was picking up to hear Xen's report, “Get your boarding party launched now!” She looks about the room. “We've taken out the swarm, just the queen to go. Strafe out of range of that arm and fire everything we've got. Regroup the squadrons. Send in the MKIIs with heavy disruptor fire to break down shields, follow up with heavy fire from MKIs and all supporting fighters.” Xen worries about leaving the Dagda but initiates the launch of the boarding parties. Within the two DALSC crafts, he was alone with two full parties of the Chosen. Meanwhile, the other ship was full-up with Hakkri, Rei'Ki and a squad of both Noghri Saboteurs and Mandoa Commandos. As they launch, he organizes them into two parties. Each DALSC accompanied by a Firespray craft. They would each flank and prepare a frigate each at Azazel's command. The boarding parties were away in their transport ships, its pilots wondeirng if they were really that dedicated to Azazel when they noticed that about 10 enemy squadro nwings were still in space... attacking the frigates they were supposed to board. Dozens of droid fighters surrounding the frigates trying to disable or destroy them. The two capital vessels exchange fire but neither scoring any remarkable hits, the Lucrehulk not even able to gain the advantage with the Dagda having its shields down. Meanwhile the interceptors make a strafing run, their weaponry not designed to attack capital vessels but they did destroy one or two guns, maybe three. Xen's voice chatters over the comm-feed. “Uhhh, Lady. You might have forgotten about all the fighters back this way... Mind sending the fighters our way, perhaps?” Azazel's jaw drops before she clears her throat, “Very well, you heard the man. Redirect... fighters?” A low mutter goes through the area as Azazel clears her throat, Kitt speaks up at that point, “Hey, enough lip. She hasn't failed us so far.” She turns back to Azazel, “Same orders in attempt to bring down enemy battlecruiser?” Azazel nods, hands fidgeting at her side, “Indeed. Get your acts together, your aim is sloppy.” Grateful to see some fighters coming to escort them the boarding parties continue on their way, the pilots seeing one big explosio nas the already damaged frigate was torn apart from multiple bomber runs by droid bomber fighters. The interceptors again managed to take out a few guns but nothing that might make a big difference... Meanwhile back at the Dagda..... One of the bridge crew saw what was coming and stood up. "INCOMIN-" Was all he managed to utter before the barrage of blasts struck the ship. Explosions rocking the ship as several systems were hit and reports were coming. "Two turbo laser batteries destroyed! One engine gone and the spinal cannon is damaged!" One of the more... courageous bridge crew cleared her throat. "Perhaps... perhaps we should retreat?" Azazel tenses, teeth gnashing as she grips tightly onto the railing. She does not run. She never runs. She was the Sith'ari and the galaxy would bend to her will. This was just one more trial, and she would not be defeated here. Looking over the crew, a single individual pipes up helpfully, “Sensors read that while the Lucrehulk has major power fluctuations a lot of its weapons are still online, however the gravity well is failing.” Azazel slices a hand through the air for silence, her whole body trembling and her knuckles turning white from the strength of her grip. “Prepare hyperdrive. Keep on the assault until that gravity well breaks...” Her eyes flicker over to Kitt, “You... Get down to the ships... Get as many people as you can ready to launch on the OS80 and NuClass Shuttle. Redirect the boarding parties... and all starfighters... To attack those blasted droid fighters. Give them all a chance to escape.” Capital class weapons exchange fire but the Dagda proved too fast for the Lucrehulk while in turn the Lucrehulk had enough mass to soak up the hits so far. Azazel's fighter squadrons had more luck as they destroyed several droid fighters, this however made the swarm aware of a new threat and several squadrons turned around to engage the new threat. Azazel looks to her crew for confirmation, and no answer comes back. “Make the fighters aware they need be ready to break. We'll hold off as long as we can for their return once that gravity well goes down. Continue attack.” She tries to smooth over her demeanor and hold calm, but the situation was proving too much. She tries to take a deep breath. A hand grasps her shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze. Azazel looks over to see Kitt and clears, “I told you to ready those ships...” She simply shakes her head and stays beside Azazel. The Mass Driver crews of the Dagda were feeling lucky it seems as they saw their shots punch through the Lucrehulk's armour as if it were tissue paper. The Lucrehulk suffering such damage as its mass gravity generator failed and was deactivated to conserve power that was being bled all over the ship. Azazel's fighter squadrons successfully breaking off and staying ahead of the enemy droid fighters as they return to their home base. Azazel meanwhile sees the two frigates suddenly accelerate and then vanish, as their hyperdrive engines have engaged and they fled as soon as they realized the gravity well generator was no longer holding them back. She gnashes her teeth, staring at the enemy ship with nothing but contempt. She then falls back into her chair, burying her face in her hands. Kitt hesitates for a moment, looking at the Dark Lady before Azazel speaks up once more, “Hold the line, give Xen, Hakkri, Rei'Ki and the rest of the boarding party a chance to enter hyperspace. Prepare to retreat and lay down a minefield before engaging the hyperdrive.” As the last of Azazel's fighters dock aboard the Dagda the boarding ships with Xen and the others on board enter hyperspace to get the hell out of there, the Dagda laying a minefield right before it too made its escape into hyperspace, Azazel confident that if the Lucrehulk tried to follow, it would first need to find and detonate the minefield, preferred by having the mines detonate against its hull no doubt. --- Azazel raises her wrist to her ear lazily as the communication line feeds through, “Xen, what do you need?” A delay meets her before a static voice comes through, obviously he was not back on board yet, “Azazel, confirming our rendezvous. The Red Sanctuary?” Azazel hesitates for a moment in thought before loosing a sigh, “Yes, very well. We have extensive repairs to undertake and it would perhaps give us time to continue our... What is that word you love so much... Sleuthing?” A chuckle filters back, “Certainly. Being in Tapani Space may make it easier too. Palms to grease, people to knock over. They just do not respond as well if you fail to surprise them with a knock on the door.” “Humorous...” she sighs and rubs her eyes with her other hand, peering between her fingers at the dimly lit ceiling. “Get the parts, we'll get the repair bay to handle them and see how it goes from there... Where are you anyways?” “Tapani Sector, same as you, falling a bit behind. The Dagda has superior hyperspace travel, admittedly.” “Ah, very well. We will meet you there, then... Do be careful, though.” “Roger that, Lady. Master Grian out.” Azazel shakes her head and stares up at the white-wash ceiling, watching the slowly shifting lights play over in pale hues. She closes her eyes and sighs, nuzzling into her pillow and reaching out carefully to the space beside her, a frown knitting upon her brow. “Just a mess of trouble... First Korriban, then the Order, Andrea... And now this... Perhaps I do need a vacation...” She huffs and draws a pillow against herself, hugging it tight and inhaling deeply. Gra'tua's scent from when he stayed with her floods her senses and her eyes shoot open wide as she sits up. Dropping the pillow she raises her hands, rubbing her eyes. “If I had never met any of them... This would be so much simpler.” She leans back against the head of the bed and stares at a wall, various objects of importance to herself decorating the surface, her eyes focusing upon the blade of her master. “Sullivan, you rotten old hag... You knew it would be like this for me some day. I envy you. Just lived in the shadows, never dealt with anyone. So much simpler...” She stands and raises her hand, the lightsaber flying into her grasp as she looks it up and down... Each mark upon its surface she knew intimately, a deep nick clear along one of the plates, tears along the leather, the end sheared at an angle messily.... Azazel ignites the blade with wonder as emerald light explodes before her. That disgusting color that the old woman loved so much. Her lips part in a fond smile. As much as she wanted to wring that old wrinkled fool's neck in her youth... It was just that, the frustrations of youth. “Oh, but if you had never found me and taken me under your wing...” That old painful memory of knowing she would have died stabs through her... but accompanied with something else. “I would never... Never have become who I am. For that I am thankful... And for your love...” A tear trickles down her cheek, “You left too soon, Mama Sully... I need you now more than ever... I know I always said that I never needed you, but I was wrong...” Disengaging the sabre, she draws her knees in against her chest and buries her face, ignoring even as voices begin to raise outside her door to the point she could hear them through the sound-proofed door. Shouting begins to raise higher and higher in volume, to the point she could almost make out the words. What catches her attention, though... is the sudden sound of a scuffle, a heavy thump against the door and a scream of pain. Azazel stiffens, looking up... but found it too straining to even stand and ready herself to fight. The door swishes open, and Kitt thumps to the ground, a nasty knot upon her head and bleeding slightly. Standing above her is a raggedy red-haired women, the sides of her head shaved clean. A wrench of some sort Azazel could not identify was clenched tight in her fist and her figure was enclosed in a jumpsuit. A starfighter's jumpsuit. [i]One of[/i] her [i]starfighter's jumpsuits.[/i] Her confusion is apparent on her face as she tries to determine... Who this woman even was. “What... In all the Galaxy... [i]was that[/i]?!” she snaps, striding forward and slipping her wrench within her toolbelt, eyes trained upon Azazel. Azazel slowly begins to draw the conclusion that she was talking about the spacebattle. With a small wave of her hand, she dismisses her, “It was an unfortunate setback.” She raises her hand, returning the lightsaber to its hanging place. The red-head stops in her tracks, taken aback by the answer. “A... setback?” She steps forward, rage twisting upon her face and balling her fists as her face flushes almost as red as her hair, “A SETBACK?! [i]That[/i] was a massacre!” Azazel raises to her feet, glaring icily upon this lowly pilot who was continuing to dare to raise her voice at her. “It was, what it was. It is over now. As is this conversation.” She begins to turn away, but halts at the heavy clomping of military boots over her floors. Likely scuffing and scratching them to no end. And suddenly, she is gripped by her tunic, being raised up off the ground by this smaller woman. If she was intimidated at all to have Azazel looming above her so, it was not showing. In fact... “That,” she hisses, “Was your own damned ego getting in the way. [i]That[/i] was your [i]incompetence[/i] as a navy admiral getting [i]my[/i] squadrons blaster to bits. [i]THAT/[/i] WAS YOUR FAILING AS A LEADER!” the pilot begins to shout, before tacking on with the bellow of a dragon, “[i]YOU[/i] GOT THEM KILLED FOR NOTHING!” Azazel looks upon this fiery woman with wide eyes, unsure how to even hold herself, leave alone say a word. This accusation was unheard of. It was unwarranted. She had no failings as a leader. She had always lead them to victory before and it would surely be the same in the future. She lost this once, but it was a fluke. She would certainly have won in the end. Her lips part, whispering out, a quiet, lethal undertone present, “And you suppose... that [i]you[/i] could have done better?” The threat goes clear over the pilot's head as she shakes Azazel roughly, answering without the slightest bit of doubt, “Damn straight I would have. I at least know the first thing about a fighter. About ships. About anything. What do you know?!” She grips tighter, drawing Azazel nearer her face, “You don't know shit. You couldn't even tell port from starboard! What the hell were you doing, leading all of us into a fight... Why the hell did you take Captan Nemain from the helm?!” Azazel frowns, remaining silent in thought, about to draw herself from the red-head's grasp. Instead, she allows herself to hang there awkward, shoulder slumping as she looks upon this obviously insane woman challenging her. She had to have a deathwish. Why she did not take her chance in the dogfight was beyond her, though. The pilot grits her teeth, about ready to shake Azazel again in demand of an answer, but reluctantly places her down upon her feet. Shoving her roughly, she growls, “You better get your shit straightened out, Kurkova. You make a damned fine figurehead, but that's about it. Get anymore of my men killed like this, and I'll take it out of your hide myself. Your fancy ass force powers be damned!” She turns and begins to stomp off, just as Kitt begins to stir. Azazel holds her hand out, freezing the pilot in place with a gentle grip of the force. “Who are you?” The pilot slowly drifts, suspended inches above the ground herself now. Her body is ridged and proud as she glares down upon Azazel and struggles in vain to break away. “Truly, tell me.” The pilot spits out, “Xaff. Bezol Xaff. Put me down you bitch! I've seen what you do when you hold people like this, not even the guts to fight me fairly!” Azazel blinks in surprise and barks out in laughter, no warmth to be had in the gesture. “Bezol, welcome amidst my officers.” She releases her grip and straightens herself out, smoothing out her tunic with a feint smile upon her lips. Bezol pauses, ready to lunge forward with a balled fist ready to lash out. “What?” “I would have your insights amidst that of the others in the future,” Azazel shrugs, waving a hand, “Speak on behalf of those below you, challenge my plans. If you have anything to say against any of my decisions... Follow through.” Her eyes harden as she steps forward, grasping Bezol's jaw, her nails biting into flesh. “Harm those of [i]mine[/i] like this again, and I'll [i]roast[/i] you alive.” Bezol slaps Azazel's hand away, ignoring the scratches to appear on her face as she juts out her chin and squares her shoulders, “If she hadn't made a fight to get to you, I wouldn'ta had to clock her one.” Azazel sighs, shaking her head and moves over to Kitt's side, looking her over and cupping her cheeks, “Little dove, wake up, wake up.” Kitt's head lolls and she looses a groan. Azazel tenses and looks back to Bezol, “Cold water, now! Over at the counter, in the icebox.” As Bezol fumbles, Azazel tries to stir Kitt, softly caressing through her hair, trying to see just how bad the impact was and shaking her. Without warning, Bezol stabs into the bottle with a pocket knife and glacial water comes spilling out over Azazel and Kitt in a flood. Steam rises off of Azazel as she fights the urge to yelp and shake at the sudden chill, but Kitt splutters and gasps, eyes fluttering open. With a cry of relief, Azazel draws her tight into her arms and presses her lips carefully upon the Echani's brow, “Kitt, little dove, stay away... You have suffered a very bad head injury and I need to bring you to the medics...” Kitt remains quiet and still.. Shocked and cold, she was not sure what to do. Yet, she begins to relax and nuzzle in against Azazel without concern. “Kitt, did you hear me? I need you to try and stand up.” The Echani simply looses a quiet groan, not wanting to move from this quite yet. Azazel tightens her embrace before deciding, “Bezol, I need you to help me carry her. We're bringing her to the medic, help me keep her conscious.” At that, Kitt groans out, disapproval at this point as she hugs Azazel back, “No, I'm fine... Just... Let me rest...” Tensing at the contact, Azazel is unsure how to respond before looking at Bezol, “Help me move her to the bed, at least... Then call a medic in here.” Bezol nods and as Azazel shifts back and slips an arm beneath Kitt, Bezol mimicks on the other side. They haul her up and carry her cautiously to the bed. A wave of her free hand, and Azazel sends the blankets flying back. They lay the Echani out and Bezol immediately leaves the room to summon a medic. Azazel meanwhile moves back over to the counter, opening the icebox and withdrawing a frozen pack. She grabs a towel and wraps the pack and moves back to Kitt's side, placing the pack upon the knot on her head carefully and taking the chance with the towel to check the bleeding. It was nothing too bad.. At worst a stitch or two... “Such a silly thing... You should not have done that.” Kitt blushes up at her, “But I did, I had to.. I just did not expect her to hit me with that flex wrench.” Azazel raises her brow, looking at the Echani curiously, “And why do you feel you had to? She is just a pilot, if she wished me harm, I could have easily dealt with her...” Kitt's cheeks somehow manage to tint deeper, even going so far as to spread to the tops of her ears, “Because... Because...” she begins to raise up from the bed, but Azazel holds her down. She opens her eyes back and looks up at Azazel with a questioning frown. “No, no, little dove. Do not sit up. I do not want you to get dizzy,” Azazel looks up as the door swishes open. Bezol comes through and explains the medic would be on her way, though was rather upset and busy because of the number of pilots and injured crew members from the battle. Kitt looses a sigh and shifts ever so slightly as Bezol leaves. Azazel looks down upon her and smiles slightly, “Sure that you're fine?” Kitt shrugs slightly, closing her eyes. “Ah, suppose we will have to cancel that training session then, if you are not sure...” Kitt tenses, “Well... I think I am feeling better... It is just smarting now.” Azazel leans in and murmurs, “Then we will keep it simple today. I will call in one of the Noghri, perhaps. They could perhaps teach you some of their fighting styles with hand-to-hand...” She pauses and begins to lean back. “I would have you rest for now, though. At least until the good doctor gives you a bill of good health.” Kitt shifts a little restlessly, garnering another touch from Azazel for her to stay still. Kitt calms before murmuring, “If you are to keep me bedridden, would you at least keep me warm?” Azazel furrows her brow, looking at the blankets over top of Kitt. They were not heavy, given her preferences... The ice water really could be bothering her still. Azazel cautiously moves, slipping down to lay against Kitt's back and rubs warmth into her limbs. “You have a habit about defying my wishes today.” Kitt remains silent, closing her eyes, “Suppose I do... Going to punish me?” Azazel furrows her brow, unable to see Kitt's face from where she was. “No. I think not. But I had my reasons to command such...” “You thought The Dagda would be lost...” The Sith remains quiet. “It would not have been... It was not... I have faith you will see us all through... Stubborn or not.” Azazel frowns, letting her hand fall. “You tried to make sure we all got away first... And that the pilots of the squadrons all made it out safely... You do care, even about the nameless faces... And when you decide something... You are... terrifying... Nothing stands in your way... and that is remarkable.” Azazel was becoming thankful that the Echani could not see her face like this as her eyes were beginning to water. “Azazel, Bezol is wrong about you... And Hakkri... Everyone is...” “They are not, though,” she finally croaks out and draws away. Azazel stands up from her bed and wraps her arms about herself, facing away from the Echani. “No... They are right... And the sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you will be.” Kitt turns about, holding the icepack to her head still as she stares at Azazel's back. “And you think I am the silly one...” Azazel sighs and opens her mouth to respond before the medic arrives. Disgruntled, overworked and tired, the medic grunts and hefts their portable medkit. “What seems to be the problem?” Azazel nods towards Kitt and the medic sighs, moving over and inspecting the wound. Azazel watches curiously as the medic uncaringly opens his bag and draws out a bottle, quickly spraying the laceration before pulling out a bacta patch and slapping it on. “Done. Don't sleep for a little while. Just to get over the concussion.” The medic stands up, closing their bag and looks Azazel over. “I expect you in my office soon enough. Master Grian may be trying to play nursemaid or whatnot, but he is hardly qualified. I assure you, Lady Kurkova, for the sake of your offspring, if not yourself, come see us. Four months and still you remain so stubborn!” Azazel tenses and glares at the medic, “Doctor Hidka... I will attend whenever I am ready to do so. However, do you not have pilots and crew to tend to?” Hidka pauses and shrugs, “Tanks at max capacity so far, all we can do for the rest is stick them full of bacta and wrap them in bandages.” He slumps his shoulders tiredly and begins to walk off once more. “Do get some rest, Hidka. I thought I had instructed your entire staff to take on alternating shifts to prevent exhaustion. That's how accidents happen in the medbay.” Hidka waves his hand wearily and keeps going. Azazel furrows her brow, suddenly beginning to think. “Bacta, huh...” She quickly raises her wrist to tap out a message reminder for herself before glancing over at Kitt... Who was staring at her in absolute shock. “What?” The Echani simply points at Azazel's abdomen with a raised brow. Azazel furrows her brow, shifting and placing her hands carefully to try and determine if it truly was showing now. “That ridiculous Hidka...” she growls, awkwardly trying to rearrange her tunic. She had given up the close-fitting clothes a little while ago already! “You... You really are...” Azazel frowns, releasing her grip on her sash. “Ah, yes...” “And Gra'tua?” “Aware and even happy.” “... Andrea?” Azazel tenses, looking taken aback, “She... I don't know. There was... A lot that came up.” “Is that why... Well...” Azazel pauses, striding closer and plopping down beside the Echani. “Oh no. She... No... They both were not forthcoming with much to me.” “Yet, that whole time Gra'tua was here...” Azazel shrugs simply in response. Kitt tenses and softly slugs her shoulder, earning a surprised look from the Darth as she begins to rub at the sudden soreness. “You make no sense. Gra'tua, you forgive and keep around and even...” her voice trails off before she shakes her head, “But you end things with that woman for... The exact same thing he did? Azazel, is this some sort of strange Sith custom? Then again, apparently Jedi were not supposed to fall in love, or have relationships or feel at all.” Azazel raises her brows in surprise, “Not a custom I am aware of... But I see the truth now! The reason between this great feud between Jedi and Sith! The Jedi are just jealous they get none, obviously. All that pent up...” She rolls her hands, looking for the word. “Sexual frustration?” “Yes.” “Ah, yeah... Apparently Theo had no issues with that, though... She roared. A lot.” “So she never tried to instill such values in all of you?” Kitt shrugs lazily, “No, not really. She was hardly a Jedi by traditional standards. Or even those we hold now. She abandoned her teacher before her teaching was over and... I suppose so much was lost. She never wanted to be a teacher, or a Jedi, or be responsible. She just... Inherited the burden of her teacher. It infuriated her brother. He wanted to be a Jedi, and there she was... Always outshining him. Always better. The favored child.” She shrugs, “I guess... I was jealous too, of the others in her creche. They learned. They could understand a lightsaber, and how to tap into the force... They were making things float and spin and trying to play tricks on each other... On me. So, I started to get overlooked.” She looks over to Azazel, “I thought the same was going to happen here. I am not a force user. I could not be the first apprentice of any of Talekk or Velle. So what use was I? Just a blind, scrappy wash-out.” Azazel looks at her curiously, “Curious...” At the confused look to meet her, Azazel sighs and begins to explain, “I do not understand, how you could be so ignored. So far you have been one of the most persistent and hard working of my followers... Just short of Xen, at least. It makes little sense.” Kitt flushes and shrugs, “Maybe I did not have a reason to try and stand out before.” “Yet you do now, do you?” Kitt nods, shuffling uncomfortably. “And what would that be?” Kitt pauses before turning to smile, “Yeah... And maybe I'll tell you sometime... If we can keep talking like this in the future.” The older woman's brow shoots up in surprise, “I could pluck the answer from you if I wished, you know.” “Yes, I know... But I also know you won't,” Kitt smirks just a bit smugly. “And what makes you sure of that, little dove?” Azazel snorts, crossing her arms. Kitt leans in and murmurs, “Because you are fascinated by interesting things, and enjoy the game to posses them without brute force.” Azazel chuckles, “You would make a frightening Sith.” “And thankfully I am not. I would not have caught anyone's attention if I was just another of your apprentices,” she crosses her arms behind her head and gets far too comfortable in Azazel's bed. “If you could still throw Rei'Ki across the room, regardless of how you achieve it... I think I still would have noticed,” she murmurs, reaching out and smooths a corner of the bacta patch back down. Kitt laughs and nods, softly catching Azazel's hand. “If you weren't using those force power of yours, I could probably pin you in nothing flat.” “You are not that good yet,” Azazel chuckles, drawing her hand away. “Come, get up. We will go find one of the Noghri warriors... And this miss Bezol. I would like to see her own capabilities as well. Hopefully she is as good a shot outside a fighter as in it.” --- Azazel clomps into the quarters of Bezol and a few others. Apparently, even with the additional space, many of her followers still preferred to bunk in the same quarters. Asking around, it was easy enough to find the pilot... And she now sat before Azazel at a small desk that folded out from the wall, chewing on the eraser of a pencil with reading glasses on as she looked over a large sheet of draft paper. She looks up for a moment before returning to the article, sketching a few new lines and jotting down notes... before carefully erasing. “Yes?” “Wrap up, I need to do an evaluation.” “What of?” “Ground performance,” Azazel answers, resting against the doorway. “And you can evaluate that?” Azazel steps forwards, putting her hands atop the blueprints. “Indeed. I am no figurehead, Bezol. I am the most competent woman you will ever see on ground missions.” Bezol furrows her brow in frustration before pushing her reading glasses onto her forehead and reclining back, “Well, gee lady, I don't care much.” She raises her hand, placing the pencil between her lips and chewing lightly, talking around it, “Look, if you need me to pilot some rig, any rig, I'm your woman. But once we hit dirt, I'm out.” Azazel raises a brow, before shifting her hand aside and looking at the blueprints curiously. She scrunches up her nose as she can barely figure out what it was she was seeing, “Podracer?” “Sure enough, genius. So, aside from that whole evaluatin'... Whatcha need?” “You to come with me. To the training rooms. So I can see what you are capable of,” Azazel lifts up the paper, folding it up and tucking it away inside her tunic, “Or you're never seeing your precious papers ever again, mwahaha.” “Damn, woman. They said Sith were evil bantha dung, but did I listen? No,” Bezol snorts and stands, “Fine, whatever. But if you pit me against that runt, it is not gonna look pretty. I brained her once already.” Azazel shakes her head, “Do not underestimate her. Otherwise, you might be the one flat on your back this next time.” Bezol rolls her eyes, slipping her suspenders back onto her shoulders as she stands, “Yeah, sure. That little runt would like that. Word around the crew is she butters her toast on the other side.” The Sith raises a brow, “Pardon me?” She was genuinely confused by the expression. Bezol sighs, reaching forward and fishing her blueprints out of Azazel's clothes and carefully putting it inside a hard hip-pouch. “Like you, you butter yours on both sides. Don't get why, imagine it gets messy, butter all over your hair... Or do you prefer jam... No, no, you are probably one of those fancy pants snobs who only eat designer condiments on their toast.” Azazel blinks in absolute confusion, “I will admit, I am lost.” Bezol sighs and rubs her eyes, “She's a fruit. Likes girls. You like both. Simple enough for you, doc? Or do I gotta dumb it down some more.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms, “And why does everyone say that about Kitt?” Bezol sighs, “I dunno. I don't start the rumors, just spread 'em. But hell, she's turned down every guy on board whose ever asked her out. Gets people wonderin', ya know?” Azazel shrugs, “No, not really. Of course, rumor once was that I was a military droid gone rogue and introduced to religious doctrine. You know, on account that I did not sleep with everything that moved.” “Implying I do?” “Never said that, but hey, whatever flies your freighter,” Azazel counters with a slight smirk. “Oh, you catch on, but shame you're thinking your celebrity ex with that one,” Bezol smirks and gives a flourishing bow at her waist, “So lead the way, darth broad.” “You are going to hurt for that one,” Azazel warns. “Oh, Ah-zah-zi-el, I already am,” Bezol snickers. --- Kitt shifts through the movements slowly. Following from one position to the next in fluid transitions, she carefully repositions her feet. The Noghri warrior, small even to her, shows the movements with obvious practice and skill. He begins to start through the positions again, feet moving back and adjusting his weight... Before suddenly lurching forward, palms spread out flat and and arcing through the air in a deadly slicing gesture. Kitt was ready this time and dives down, below the arc before putting her hands up, clutching the Noghri's wrist and placing a hand upon his torso. Using his own momentum against him, she sends him sailing over-top of herself and smacking into the ground. She begins to move in order to pin him and end yet another impromptu match, but she finds herself staggering as she suddenly grows dizzy. The Noghri springs into a crouch and kicks off, flying forward and knocking her down by her midsection. A muscled leg jams into her diaphragm roughly and cuts her breath short before he grasps her throat, pressure lightly upon her carotid and windpipe. A hand is raise and held with tension, ready at any moment to strike like a viper and slice with those claws. “I submit,” Kitt coughs roughly and squirms beneath him. The Noghri nods and steps off of her, only for Kitt to swing her legs about and knock him back down. Quickly, she scrambles and catches him in a hold, arms wrapped about his head and ready to snap. The Noghri remains tense but makes no movements, “There is no honor in this. It is a hollow victory at best...” Kitt quivers, failing to release as the Noghri continues to stay still as death. Azazel strides forward, tapping Kitt's shoulders. It was like a switch was flipped, the Echani instantly disengages and sits upon the floor, crossing her legs. “He is right, you know. Honor is one of the few things we ever truly have. Honor and memories...” She looks down at Kitt, obvious disapproval upon her face. “I would see you keep yours intact...” She kneels down and rests her hands in her lap as the Noghri rubs over his throat. “Noble Jucchat warrior, thank you. I apologize for this blow to your honor. This grievance will not go unnoticed or unpaid.” She bows forward still upon her knees. The Noghri grunts and stands, “It was not you who offended me, Dark Lady.” Azazel straightens herself, staring the Noghri eye-to-eye. “I am afraid I have, though. She is under my tutelage and therefor was my responsibility. A slight by her was a slight by me, for I failed to teach her properly.” Azazel stands and looms down upon the Noghri, eyebrow raised challengingly. He grunts and nods, “Prefer you payment in trial or tribute for this insult from your...” The Noghri pauses, sniffing and crosses his arms, “Your consort?” Kitt blinks in surprise, turning her head away and flushing. Azazel however steps forward, “She is not my consort. Call tribune throughout your tribesmen, let them determine what is befitting.” The Noghri furrows his teeth, a low clicking coming from the back of his throat, “I would prefer tribute, Dark Lady.” Azazel nods, “I would not put you in such a position of conflict, for honor or loyalty. Have you a price in mind?” He rolls his his, scratching at his neck in thought, “Do you have any... of that weird human food... Large round disks of bread, sauce and cheese...” Kitt furrows her brow, “Tapani Slices?...” The Noghri snaps, “Yes. The Tapani Slice. I demand a tribute of Tapani Slices.” Azazel rubs her eyes, almost regretting the fact her soldiers were becoming spoiled as a result of interacting with those of the Tapani system. “Very well, an offering of Tapani Slices will be made available soon... In fact, I'll be sure someone in the kitchen staff programs it into the food synthesizer. Just for you.” The Noghri clasps his hands before himself and bows, “Thank you, Dark Lady. I will inform my brothers and sisters.” Azazel nods, trying to keep the humoured expression off her face until the warrior leaves the room. She turns to Kitt who simply shrugs. Bezol calls out from the back of the room, “I don't care much for this whole honor deal, but if I get to see a fat Noghri out of this, I'm sold.” The other two women cannot help themselves a moment longer and burst out into laughter. Kitt, still trying to catch her breath attempts to pant out, “Ah, so... Ditzy the Looney Cathar cartoon marathon?” [hider=Results][b]Minor Character Acquisition:[/b] [url=http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/262/6/a/red___a_fighter_s_backstory_by_tvonn9-d6n0bx7.jpg]Bezol Xaff[/url] Human, F Physical: Force Sensitive Piloting Proficiency 3 Elite Pilot Blaster Proficiency 1 Tech & Skills: Navigator 2 [b]Destroyed Systems:[/b] 1 Advanced Engine destroyed 2 Turbo Laser Batteries destroyed [b]Damages:[/b] Hyper Velocity Gun 10 SP for parts needed to repair it Spinal Gun, ship needs to be in a system for crew to repair it, no extra parts needed (just need the Dagda to remain in a system and not travel for a while) 3 Squadrons of DAIS MKI at half strength, 10 SP needed to build new fighters to bring them back to strength[/hider]