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[b][right]DEEP SPACE // UNKNOWN REGIONS[/right][/b]

Tyrell Omi-Ren paced along the corridors of the ship. His boots clanked against the floor, it rattled at points as he made his way along. There was the faint rattling and hissing as various pipes and systems struggled to compensate after the damage that was done to the ship. His ship. [i]The Vitae[/i] first of its kind within generations, a cruiser built for the specific purpose of transporting and training Jedi throughout the Galaxy. Making a handful of journeys too Illum from Corsucant during the waning days of the war. That was until their Clone Escort fired upon them, the battle was tough but they managed to survive. They were however left stranded in deep space, engines inoperative and they didn't have the parts or the know-how to get them running again. 

He groaned as all the lights turned off. The sound of the air purifiers ceased, he started to run down the corridor. The sound of his boots on the ground hitting harder as he ran down the corridor. The ship shook slightly as he ran onto the bridge. A hologram of the layout of the ship flickered above the dias. His former Padawan Worror stood before it, the giant stalks of his Ithorian eyes looking around the picture and barely looking up as Tyrell ran into the room. "Status report."

"It looks like the main reactor has powered down-" The Ithorians warbled speech was translated by a device mounted around its neck. "-we're purely ballistic now. No engines, no life support and emergency power only." Tyrell sighed. They didn't have a way to send out a signal, but they didn't have enough vessels to flee or get everyone off the ship, and not nearly enough escape pods.

"How many fighters do we have left?"

"We only have one hyperspace capable." Tyrell grimaced. One chance, one shot to go and get help that's all they had.

[hr]

[b][right]GUNGAN // TIPSY RANCOR // CORUSCANT UNDERCITY
[sup][@Odin][@The Wyrm][@TheEvanCat][/sup][/right][/b]

If the young Jedi thought the bar had been messy and untidy then he had another thing coming with the private room. Bottles littered all over the room, ashtrays full of half-smoked cigarras, ash smiling out over to the floor. Which itself was sticky, the effect of various bodily excretions and spilt beverages. Once the Jedi was in the room the Gungan practically punched the button to close the door. "Are yousa a [b]FOOL?![/b]" He stormed over, barging past the Jedi in order to close the blinds to the outside world. 

"Ten thousand Jedi gone-" He snapped two of his fingers "like dat and yousa just waltz in here wearing [i]robes[/i]!" He shook his head. "We needs to get you in a change of clothes, and off-world." He nodded pointing towards the closet. "Get changed."