Log:Quest of the Violet Knight Part 2

Quest of the Violet Knight Part 2

OOC Date: April 4, 2021 (Optional)
Location: Kijimi Fleet
Participants: Jedi Order, Rogue Squadron, Zandra naMuriel, Yari, Tallissan Lintra, Aryn Cortess, Qutha Buvu Pah, Callax Dalso, Ax, Jax Greystorm, Rey

Welcome, to the Kijimi flotilla. Two large barges are pockmarked by assorted smaller craft, docked directly with the hull and with eachother. Further out, more ships are hovering/tethered in small clusters like islands around a continent. All in all, there's between 150-200 individual craft that form the orbiting life raft of refguees, but at a glance it can be difficult to sort out where one ends and another begins. It's been over a year since they've arrived and they'd had time to get organized.

Inside, the organized chaos seems more chaos than organized, if you aren't 'from' here. The flotilla was originally home to about 300,000 bodies and those numbers are still north of 250,000. Few of the craft within the flotilla were ever meant to hold thousands for long and even fewer were meant to hold hundreds. You can imagine the smell then. The overtaxed air cyclers, the dangerous water rationing, the inability to maintain hygeine on daily basis because there isn't enough time in the day for that many people to pass through the sonic showers and the water-spouting showers, well they can no longer spare the water. This is a humanitarian crisis in the making, still, and it has only worsened with time.

Still, the Kijimi are a resiliant people by nature. They've had to be, living in a fairly hostile terrain and occupied (in more recent times) by hostile forces. Those who survived were fit to do so and they have made do with what little they've left to make do with. Large sections of bulkheads have been stripped from most ship interiors, repurposed into partitions, tables, patch jobs elsewhere. Materials have been scavenged, reworked, until some freighters and shuttles are no longer recognizable for what they are, on the inside. Some of them are no scarsely space-worthy and definitely not hyper-worthy.

It's a shanty town, existing in vacuum. Welcome to the New Kijimi, stranded in the shadow with a perpetual view of New Alderaan's glow.

The hatred emanating from some auras aboard is dangerously palpable.

They've been cleared to dock. Directions have been transmitted to a particular sector and zone and a small fighter craft is coming out to more or less lead them in. Or buzz about nervously. Hard to say. Whether the issued order can truly be called an invitation versus obligatory reciprocation remains to be seen, to be felt.

Yari is free from her seat in an instant, the moment she figures out that they are coming into collision course with what appears to be an incredibly janky, DIY docking tube, protruding from an outlying freighter that's positione somewhere within the mid-rim of flotilla mass.

This is their port authority. One of many such little stations, in fact.

Zandra is piloting, so she's got the priviledge of bringing the Falcon in. There are other fighters and such who may also be coming in for a landing, and it's possible that some have already hightailed it back home, leaving this all up to the group who is here today. <<Hang tight, their landing zone is somewhat interesting,>> Zan says on the internal ship comm, just in case, as she and Chewie (in the co-pilot seat) bring the Falcon in to close with that docking tube, connecting themselves with the freighter that is their so called port authority. She looks to Yari and the others aboard, with a smile. "Here we go." And then, "This is the Falcon, docking as requested. We are preparing to come aboard.>> on the comm channel being used with the Kijimi fleet now.

Docking without a droid's aid occupies Tallissan enough to come down from the nervous energy a dogfight produces in her. The A-Wing's retro jets make a hissing sound in the cockpit as she jockeys into position next to the makeshift docking ring. The cockpit ticks and mutters to itself as she powers down engines, then double-checks the neck rings on her helmet. She doesn't trust the external pressure enough to egress without safeguards. Green lights come on, saying externals are go.

<<"Lintra to docking command. I'm green to go.">> She opens up the cockpit, watching the fuzzy dice hanging from one side of the window swing in the pressure change, wondering if she will see one of her friends from home that had joined the Flotilla as a doctor.

The ETA-2b interceptor named Spark 3 makes for an assembly landing that's connected with the DIY docking arm intended for the Falcon. Going through the ritual of landing, skids are produced under the small vessel and pressurized air releases after settling with loud hydraulic hisses. A few moments after settling, the canopy lifted up and its pilot rose from their seat and stepped out on the tongue that served as the bow of her vessel. This was Aryn, but it was not easily seen because her hood had been drawn up in an effort to conceal her identity.

She steps off the lip of the fighter to land softly, her cape fluttering briefly but settling. She spent the idle moments tending to her vessel and making adjustments to her gloves. The blue and white BB-series droid seated in the socket of her fighter moved its head, warbling something in low volume to Aryn. "I think that is a good precaution, yes." Sky was to remain with the fighter and keep it in stand by in case there was need of a hasty departure. Aryn patted the endearing droid thankfully, and turned from it to look over her surroundings.

Here more to serve as ejection pickup or emergency transport, the Singular Star toddles at the rear of the group, the Jedi shuttle with its wings and secondary fuselage rotated to vertical flight mode. <<"Singular Star here, it's Qutha. Following you in.">> unless they tell him to go away, of course.

The Zelosian works at the controls, biting his lower lip and trying to keep things moving smoothly - still not so used to the whole piloting thing. An attempt made to try and not be too close, but not lag too far back either. <<"Sorry I'm late, but I'm here for wounded transport as needed.">> the Verpine designed craft shifting to a horizonal form as it begins to swing in for docking.

Having been specifically mentioned in the invitation, Callax is hardly going to refuse. The dark, ash-gray shape of the TIE/X1 in which they emerged after parking their damaged fighter lands on one of the ships as directed; it being an Imperial ship, however advanced, the ramshackle, depressurized structure used as an umbilical to the larger ships is made trivial with the requirement of a suit. Primarily red and black, a single gray stripe runs down the left side of their suit, and Callax arrives in atmosphere with helm unsealed only once other air-breathing fellows are in company.

But removing their helmet, Callax seems...somewhat deflated. It's only a small smile that rests on their lips as they duck through the entry hatch, the coif of their bodyglove down and long silver hair in a messy braid spilling over their shoulder. Whatever fury had been radiant on the battlefield, those with empathic senses would find it firmly locked away, possibly beneath a tight iron cover of displeasure - and just a little bit of shame. Outwardly, Callax keeps that faint smile on like a shield, admitting nothing in the moment.

~ TIEs of all types were designed to dock via clamps more than they were designed to land like a traditional ship. So, bringing the Specter in for a landing was a bit tricky given the circumstances. Still, the Echani pilot managed to get it secured on a clamp, but it necessitated a short jaunt to an air-lock a few meters away from his fighter. Not ideal, not by any means, but doable. Fortunately, the hideous looking flightsuit required to access all the Avenger's functions was capable of EVA, it just looked like crap.

Once inside breathable atmosphere, Ax removes the helmet and debates on whether he's going to carry it around, or stash it somewhere, then seeing the state of things, decides maybe it wasn't a bad idea to keep it with him, just in case. Now, he just needed to find his way through this maze to the others. ~

The Phoenix had changed courses when Spark 3 did and preceeded along with the others as they're escorted to the make shift docking ring. Jax finds himself being guided to the docking his T-65 where it will require him to space walk. The voice in his helmet asks, << You can have full EVA flight suit, right? Of Course you do. You good for a small walk. Stretch your legs. There's places for you clip in as you go. Very good. >> Jax shakes his head. << This is Phoenix, I can space walk. >>

The clamps attach to Jax ship securing it. THe Corellian looks back at Exine as the droid wobbles at him. "That sounds right buddy. You stay here and be ready to bust out a moments notice. I'll bring you a souvenir. If I can find one." Then Jax reaches over to grab the holo capture of Sesti and the boys. It gets tucked into pocket on his flight suit. Then after a few moments of checking is suit seals. The cockpit of Phoenix opens. Then Jax undoes his straps and reaches out with the force. He goes silently towards the airlock.

Rey steps off of the turret ladder and back in to the ring corridor of the Falcon's interior. Carrying a porg in her left arm tucked up against her ribs, the young woman walks toward the rec lounge where she finds her tan satchel with the Jedi Order logo emblazened on the side. She opens it up and puts the Porg inside of it before she closes the flap. There's a little muffled squak from inside the satchel on the game table, then the flap opens up a little and two big eyes peer out from inside of it....

Peer..... then the flap closes and a snoring starts a few moments later.

Rey grabs her jacket and starts to lift it up over her shoulders, the white fabric of the jacket goes around her form and she slips it on. Sleeveless, of course, the hooded jacket is worn over her white tunic and she walks to join Zan and the others.

"I'm intrigued to meet those of this fleet. They've been through so much, I'm glad we were able to help here today.." She states as they all start to go through the hatch to board the other vessel.

Each craft is guided and acknowledge accordingly, coupled with the promise of "Repair technicians will be sent to your location to assess damages done, if in need. Please proceed along the indicated route to our dock master." A feat which will be more easily accomplished by some than others, considering the precarious nature of Flotilla docking accomodations. It's a nauseating view for any NOT accustomed to space walks - this many-armed monster of shiply bits and pieces fractaling all around them without much demarkation.

At least said 'route' (once a body enters some structure) is indicated in every docking tube, every landing platform, by sputtering, shifting lighting strips highlighting lanes of inbound/outbound foot traffic. These docking tubes and what pieces of hangar they branch from or thread through stripped to minimum and strewn with additional catwalks. Serious modifications have been done to the hulls of many a ship, where additional ports have been cut and makeshift airlock doors welded into place. Probably not flight worthy, these DIY mods, won?t likely stand up to the stresses of high speeds through a vacuum, let alone hyper, but to serve as a makeshift dock drifting gently through orbit...they hold. So far.

Yari stands at the ready to lead the Falcon's crew into one such tube now. Her own hooded cloak is drawn tightly around self, fur tickling at cheeks and lashes. It's an emotional lifeline moreso than practical, so it's a good thing that Han's old bird could mate appropriately with an airlock. Her hands have a possessive deathgrip on the little satchel she carries with, in addition to it being slung crossways over her frame. Death. Grip. A long look goes over shoulder to the strangers assembling 'round and she makes a 'come hither' gesture as if they could possibly GET any closer. Then two fingers point to her eyes, mimic scanning surroundings. A thumbsup, questioning uptic of brow. And unless anyone has further questions, she'll take a first step out. Followed by another. And another.

This environment is as new to her as it is any of them, but she's drawn by the gravitational pull of kindred spirits. Kijimi. Even if it's not.

Awaiting their gathering en masse is that dock master. A very different persona than the voice over comms implied they might meet. This is a man and he is large. Quite large. Built like a boulder, if that boulder were perched atop a tree. How he fits behind the makeshift 'deck' and comms console that he's presently lording over (with a lazy slouch backward) is anyone's guess. Ruddy hair turning frizzled gray is stuck out at all angles. His beard isn't any better groomed. The man's coveralls are in need of a mend and might burst from the abdomen at any moment, should he slump any more deeply in seat. Cold, gray eyes monitor their approach.

Zandra nods to Rey, as she too moves along with Rey and Yari to the exit and into the landing ring/tube. "Agreed." Those staying aboard to keep the Falcon safe get a definite nod, as they do have an important job as well.

She looks at Yari, smiling, and gestures for her to lead the way. Zan follows, a bit to the side and just a step behind Yari, looking very much like she might be considering protecting the other woman, should there be trouble. Because she is. She glances at the ramshackle state, and the interesting - fashion choices for both ship and dock master with some incredulity, but manages to keep her expression serene so far. She follows Yari's lead at the moment, and makes sure to keep an eye on things, as well as any other senses that she can bring to bear.

Tallie sheds gauntlets, attaching them to a utility ring at her waist, undoes her helmet, which she tucks underarm, as she follows the sputtering lights and smeared glow strips leading her to the rec lounge. Her eyes dart from one patched seam to another, her Naval background flinching hard at the measures these people have had to take to survive.

With a nod to the dockmaster, she heads toward Zandra and the young woman she had seen on occasion in Chandrila. Robed figures arrive, some faces familiar among them. She sights Callax. One glance at the small fixed smile on his face is enough to tell her that he is unhappy. When she catches his attention, she shrugs, a slight lift of her right shoulder, a sideways tilt of her head asking if he is alright.

Aryn reunites with her companions, taking a spot at their rear and walking at a casual pace. Her hands lock over the small of her back, hidden by the presence of her cape, yet drawing the long fine cloth back in a manner that revealed the silver pistol holstered on her leg in a fine leather arrangement. If Aryn carried a lightsaber, it is not visible. Her thoughts go to their surroundings taking note of the ingenuity of the people and how they make it all work.

Hood drawn back to keep his eyes out of the shadows, Qutha keeps to his place at the rear of the group. Ironically placed with Aryn per her own choice of placement. Gem like green eyes sweeping the surroundings while his hands fold before him, sleeves falling to hide them. "Good to see you made it here in one piece, Doctor." giving her a broad smile, "Fine bushel of jarray fruit we find ourselves in once more, no doubt?"

Callax remains in the background, as much as they can be - Tallie knows them well enough to know that the smile is false, of course. All the same they offer it to her, this time with renewed warmth, and a shake of their head. Not to worry, they seem to say. All is hearty and hale.

Back to the big man then, whose stony features they meet with a simple nod. They're used to hardcases. This fellow isn't going to draw a wince simply by frowning. One can imagine that living in these conditions isn't going to spark joy in anyone sane. Hands tucked behind their back, they wait to see what happens next.

~ Ax almost wishes his wife were here to see this, but he is also glad she's not. Likely, he'd have to peel her away by force, her OCD not allowing her to leave these poor people in these conditions without having to try and make it at least somewhat safe.

Following the lights on the floor, and wondering where exactly they were leading, the Echani pilot quietly tried to remember if he was up to date on his tetanus shots.

After a few moments, he's catching up to the other Rogue pilots that had come along on this little jaunt. "Well, this place is definitely interesting," he says. "What ya think Miri would think of this place?" he asks with a grin. ~

Jax joins in with the group and his helmet is clapped and falls in line with the others. He doesn't say a word as he looks around at the place. Though a low whistle escapes his lips as he looks at the Kijimi's work.

Rey steps through the hatch after telling Chewie and Karas to take care of the ship. Chewie was completely fine with that, not wishing to head out in to this fleet for whatever reasons (former smuggler surrounded by people who might know him?)

Rey does join up with the others in the lit up corridor and offers a smile to them. She stays on Aryn's side and nods to her softly. "Good flying out there." She says softly to the Alderaanian.

"Mm." The dockmaster grunts, jaw working to one side around a lump of some narcotic chew. It's one of the few major food groups readily accessible, these days. One finger, coincidentally chosen, uplifts to scratch at a burst capillary astride his nose. Whatever shrewd meanness he exudes from his hairy pores is, blessedly, contrasted by a youthful, bright-eyed woman less than half his size and possibly age. She is standing in /front/ of the desk, like a slim shield between the dockmaster and their benefactors. Her clothes are no more clean, but they are creatively patched and paired and her greasy hair is neatly braided into rows to present as tidy a visual as can be presented.

"Name's Nadiri," she offers, extending a hand forward to the one spearheading this group. "Y'have our gratitude, y'do. Been rough patch is all!"

Yari slowly, stiffly uplifts her hand to take hold of Nadiri's own, whereupon it's pumped most vigorously and isn't long before her mild-mannered expression borders on something akin to the vibes ole lumprot over there is puttin off. "Haven't got much here, but we'll do as we can t'patch your wings right up iffin you suffered any damage, yes?" The handshake is still ongoing, like she's stuck on repeat and unsure of what to do next, so passes a glance around to everyone else. "Just say th'word an we're on it!"

Please say the word, so she'll stop.

Zandra's attention goes to Nadiri as she introduces herself. "Hello," she says. "I'm Zan. This is Yari. I'll let the others introduce themselves. Our ship didn't take damage other than to the shields and it's already repaired," she says softly. "We are rather a ramshackle bunch of friends though, so I shall let them speak up if there is damage that needs fixing. Thank you for offering, it's appreciated."

She looks over the crew, VeeTen Squad that is, thinking that maybe only Callax might need some, and their fighter might already be dealt with, all things considered. Zan holds her hand out, at least in an attempt to free Yari's hand from that vigorous shaking. There's a gentle confidence about her as she works to get that first topic solved.

"Are you an engineer, Nadiri?" she asks, curiously. "Someone has obviously gone to a lot of trouble and hard work on these ships." Because they definitely don't come from the shipyards with all these extras.

A bright grin transfigures Tallie's expression at Ax's question. "She would die a thousand deaths of worry and absolute glee at everything needing to be done if you ask me." She casts a look toward the enormous man behind the docking console and focuses on the young woman in the brightly patched clothes---the grin tempering into sly humor at Yari's plight. The woman's enthusiasm under the conditions she lives under pinches her heart, but she keeps that from her face.

"Speaking for myself, and if I may, for some of my fellow pilots, we're in shipshape. Thank you." She places herself in the queue for a handshake, appreciative of Zandra taking the lead, well aware of the dockmaster's glare the young woman shields from the rest of the group.

"I am glad, too," Aryn answers Qutha, her tone genuine. "I have been in far worse places, I daresay," She asides to Qutha's other comment before bumping him slightly as if to encourage a more positive outlook. He could not see it (maybe), but she smiled. Rey's arrival by her side was felt far before it was seen, yet her kind encouragement brought some color to Aryn's cheeks. "You must not have been watching the same battle I was in," Aryn says in her usual self deprecating way, then laughs. "Thanks all the same. I am glad to be breathing, still."

When they arrive and have been addressed by Nadiri, Aryn stays quiet and looks on. When Zandra mentions that the others would introduce themselves, Aryn does not take the initiative to do so. "I sustained no damage as well, Mother willing." Aryn says, her tone neutral when adding onto Commander Lintra's statement.

Taking the bump in stride, laughing even and looking about with the same sort of curiosity and wariness he has for places with pools of shadow, tick-tocking his head from point to point. "Yes well, I'd still like an emergency on open plains, at noon. All this dark and drudgery." snickering still. "I daresay it might be a bit of a creature comfort to have." Qutha quiets some, when Rey speaks, still smiling to himself and quieting all the way to Nadiri.

"If you have any who need to be medevac'd out, miss, to facilities to alleviate strain on your own people's works, I am sure I can carry quite a few, much like the Falcon can, and I would be most willing to render that aid." swallowing and looking directly to the woman, rather than peer around and second guess himself.

~ Even if his ship did need repairs, which fortunately it didn't, Ax wasn't about to take a mechanic or engineer away from anything that needed doing to keep the flotilla going. He wasn't fond of being sucked out into the vacuum of space, after all. He was thankful that Tallie spoke up about them not needing repairs.

Normally, Ax was a bit of a talker, sometimes jokester, usually sarcastic, but for now, he decided for once to just be quiet. He was just here in a support role, and if it weren't for simple morbid curiosity, he'd probably have stayed in space to make sure no other surprises came out. ~

Jax nods to Tallie, "Like the lady said. My ships fine but thank you for the offer." He looks around for a moment. He offers his smile to the Mountain of a man. Then his eyes fall on the assistant. He smiles as the ribbing of Aryn's piloting. "She did well." He says quietly. Then withdrawing his comlink from a pocket. << Exine, how are things going out there. No one jumped into the system for Revenge?"

Rey shows a smile at Aryn's joke at her own expense but she doesn't comment on it. A lookk, and a nod, is given to Qutha before Rey looks forward to the greetings being offered out. She waits for a moment and adds in her own name. "Rey." She tells Nadiri. "We're happy to help, however we can." She adds softly.

A look away then is sent to the others in the group, the Rogues specifically. Ax is noted, and Rey... didn't know he was with Rogue Squadron. She offers him a little nod as well, nods for everyone!

"I'm fine," Callax offers the dockmaster. "What we don't have on board my ship I'll take from the wrecks of those buzzards out there in the void, sir." The Rangers are out there looking for survivors, after all. Salvage is going to be there as well. "My Rangers and I are, of course, very pleased to offer you whatever we can to assist you." A nod to Yari then, and an encouraging, genuine smile now. See? All good.

"I thought 'er looked familiar." An inquisitive peer peers forward from under epicanthic folds at Yari as Nadiri's hand blindly makes the switch from hers to Zandra's. "Yer Kyp's girl, yea?" The spritely woman blows a loud puff of air out from balloon cheeks. "Sorry t'hear about him. Bartyls were spittin fire, they were. Was talkin to yer Da, though. Says they never came round cept to take his body. S'a pity. Till recently, yeah? Arat went sniffin along after you some months back. News must've reached Rohmar's corpulent ears that you'd had the baby. Speakin' of, where's that little tyke? Born to inherit a new Kijimi, he is!"

And then a look up at the others standing there like she?d forgotten.

"Right!" Chirped with an attitude that's far too positive to have dwelled in this place long. "I am /not/ an engineer, least not in the proper sense of the word, but we've all grown accustomed to tasks and trades we weren't so skilled at before. As fer the wounded, well..." Nadiri turns a wavering smile upon Qutha and moves along to the next handshake in que. "Zone seven, sectors two and three. If you've the stomach for't." She points then to the map sprawling across the wall behind the dockmaster's burly head. "That there's the map. I'm sure there's a medic t'be rustled up what could guide your ship around." The map maps out the following on flimsiplast and stylus scribbles:

2 barges in center make up zones 1(inner most) and 2(outer corridors/docking points), ships docked directly with the barges are '3' those tethered are divided into 4 quadrants of additional zones. Zone 7' is quarantine, '6' livestock, '5-4' are other consumables/trade runners/salvage rigs. Each zone is then divided into sectors.

Yari stares at the map with an unblinking, owlish stare. Her knuckles, returned to bag, are white.

"Now that we're 'quainted," a nod bobs from one face to the next, ending on Rey, "I'm to take you on in t'see our Ambassador."

As if politics was ever a thing these people did well.

"He been dealin' with the Republic sorts since those Resistance soldiers made off with'im an 'is daughter. Good thing they did too, eh love?" A touch gravitates toward Yari's cheek but halts halfway, suspended in space by the iciness of that very daughter's stare. "Right! Follow me! S'not long, just some couple kilometers along through the web, yeah? Don't stop fer nuthin till we get there. Most bodies aboard don?t subsist on much else 'sides hate and hope - s'a free substance, unlike food and fuel, see - and word is, hope rations are dwindling to crumbs. So. Mind yer pockets."

Zan smiles at that. "Ambassador? That seems like a good thing," she says. She's also noting some of what might be useful. Food is obvously high on the list, as it's difficult to grow food in a situation like this one. Especially with pirates yipping at their heels. She frowns a bit, pausing to look back at Tallie, stopping to say, "It's a little tense here, stay alert." Not like Nadiri didn't already say that, but Zan's just making sure. The violet haired jedi glances to the back, looking for those who might also share her hunch. She makes contact with Rey, Aryn, Qutha back there, with a nod, before turning to Ax and Jax, with a similar nod. "Mind our pockets, it is. If we have them," she says with a hint of good humour. Though just a hint, as there is more here that might be darker than not. She moves to follow Nadiri, still trying to keep her senses sharp and keep up.

Used to flying with the Jedi, Zandra, and Jax, as well as Ax, Tallie realizes this assembly is by the largest group of them she has been among in one place. Rey, despite having flown with her and the doctor, Tallie assumes he is one, offering to medevac casualties are new faces to her. Her eyes flit from each small group, curious to see how they interact. A faint smile and a nod acknowledge Rey's greeting.

Stepping back a few paces, the young commander places herself among the Rogue pilots, saying to the group at large, "Maybe we can help when we finish the Corellia campaign. As much as I would like to do more now..." She shakes her head, voice trailing into silence.

At the invitation to thread their way through the labyrinth of ships, Tallie hesitates. Corellia looms large in her mind, but the desire to see the other vessels tips her decision. Mouth twisted into a rueful moue at her gleaming Void suit trimmed in sunset orange, she still says with enthusiasm. "Lead on!" Under her breath, she murmurs to Zandra, "I will, thanks."

Aryn has nothing more to add. With senses about her, she steps off with the group and matches the pace of Qutha and Rey alike, walking in much the same manner as before. A quiet notion begins to manifest itself in her mind, a familiar sense that often cropped up when something dangerous was lurking in the shadows. She would not echo the bad feelings some others had.

When they begin to walk, Aryn glances up toward those they pass. It becomes clear to her when she recognizes a trend among the denizens of this port. The same affliction has taken form on their face, like an itchy rash; a pestilence. "Oh dear. They carry a common virus. Be mindful of what you touch." A large case like this would need widespread inoculation, something she knew first hand they would not be amenable to.

Callax is withdrawn as they follow, blue eyes tracking the halls as they go - distracted by previous events, perhaps, but with pistol holster buckled tight and a hand firmly upon the pommel of the long knife on their belt. Not that they're terribly interested in drawing it, but it's been that kind of day. Of course it has.

But they go, all the same. "Quarantine," Callax points out. "What's going on there? What infection are you dealing with here?"

~ Following along with the others, Ax is keeping his eyes open. Taking a breath, the Echani blinks a few times, as he's enhancing his vision to see better into the darker areas. Last thing the group needed were surprises. "Yeah, this place is worse than the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa, almost as bad as Coruscant." Now, whether he meant the undercity or the political district of the latter was anyone's guess. "But, I doubt we'll be bothered much."

Even as he says they shouldn't be bothered, the Echani is instinctively moving his hand closer to the short, folded baton on his hip, or maybe it was the blocky-looking pistol that was resting right in front of it.

"Predators prefer targets who are distracted, so focus on your surroundings, make sure they see you looking around," Ax suggests to those of the group not used to dealing in the underworld. Then, Aryn mentions something about a virus, and Ax pauses. Maybe he should put the giant TIE pilot helmet back on. "How common, and how easy to cure?" he asks in a quiet tone towards Aryn. "Something I gotta worry about taking home to my twins? They're only three. Or even my wife, I don't want to get anyone at home sick." ~

Everything is absolutely -fine- except that its ships cobbled together and periodically its dark... so staying near those who can see, like Aryn is advantageous, even with viruses being pointed out and shouts of quarantine.

But at least there are ideas that spring up, "Doctor - I'm not fauna, do you think I would be able to serve as your hands and not risk contamination?" Question what she says? No. He's not a doctor. Unless they're dealing with plants. If dealing with plants it would be another matter. But otherwise he is not so useful, save for grunt work. Not that it's stopped Qutha before.

Jax walks with the crowd, his eyes fall on the an old blood stain. "Private matter or has there been an uprising?" Though warned of being careful of what he touches or who preys on him. Jax feels a tug and looks down to see a small child just about twice Ax's kiddos trying to go thorugh his pocket. The Corellian smiles, "You won't find anything in that one." Though he unzips a breast pocket and hands the kid a ration bar. It tasted better than the one his Mom carries.

It doesn't take terribly long before Rey gets an unsettling feeling like others amongst her group. She separates from near to where Qutha and Aryn and tries to stand closer to the Rogues, but ultimately spacing out from the other Jedi, because... something wasn't right.

Quite obviously.

In truth it's a bit challenging to focus on the flow of the Force around them because of the situation that the denizens of this vessel are facing.

With her hood up over her head, Rey just peers around, glancing at the child that Jax offers the ration bar too, she now wishing she'd brought the rations aboard the Falcon here to distribute... mental note before they leave.

For now though, Rey just observes, her brown eyes darting this way and that.

What infection are they NOT dealing with here, would be a question more easily answered. The antiseptic smell of recycled air has long since turned stale and soured. Overtaxed scrubbers struggle to keep up. Unwashed bodies mill about in the corridors and amid the little tents and partitions hammered up around cargo bays, echoing the pain of a long-suffered year in their hungry stares, predatory eyes, and sticky fingers. The streets of Kijimi City were never quite a reputable place prior to annihilation - some might argue the First Order did the sector a favor - but up here, out here, in here, the crime rate and level of desperation has only been concentrated, several times over.

"Oh, a bit of this and that," Nadiri exhales a vague answer. One hand reaches up to scratch under her collar. At a tag! "Take any herd and crowd'em together with inconsistent nutrition an' UV an' clean....anything, anymore. If you can imagine it, I reckon it grows here, in someone, on someone..." Still freakishly chipper in her tone, this Nadiri. "The worst of'em are rounded up whenever the med staff makes their way through, or if a friend or family member carts'em off first. Get shuttled to the no-go zone. Med staff only. Sometimes they don't make it that far and airlock's best form of disposal, poor bastards. Usually not the case, though! We're tough stock, we are." If she's heard Jax's question about the blood, she doesn't reply, but Yari has also seen it and hiccups her long-legged strides just enough to be a temporary roadblock for those coming up behind. She notes the rusty hue. Old.

With a stumbling step, Yari bustles forward a little faster on shorter Nadiri's heels, head on a continuous swivel. It is no wonder Galen had not wanted her here. How do you survive in a place like this without ears? Kijimi City was not /quite/ so bad, she thinks. Was it?

The further along they hike, the more structural modifications appear along their route. Entire sections of superfluous bulkhead paneling are stripped away, repurposed for slapjob privacy screens and other domestic construction jobs. Armor? A cobbled together suit of the very same goes bumping by without so much as making a spark of eye contact. "Almost there," Nadiri assures, several minutes into the tour. "S'not as crowded as used to be, this sector. Few thousand jumped ship couple months' back. We've shuffled about accordingly. Mostly." A sideye goes to a little cluster of cloth partitions that they snake around. Some are full of bits of junk, spread out on a sheet. Others are full of...well, the view's blocked by a curtain. Do you really want to know? "Think any of you'll be stickin around awhile?" the girl questions over shoulder, feet continuing to lead on without use of her eyes for a beat. "If so, you'll need t'see the sector captain t'get your hygiene schedule sorted out."

Stick around? Not - if they can help it. Zandra stirs a bit, considering that question and all the implications. She takes a breath and then she says, "I - don't imagine we'd be wanting to use up precious resources here," she says softly. "But let's start with the Ambassador and go from there." Zan grew up on a ship. A ship. One. And it was never as crowded or crazy as this flotilla seems to be. Zan eyes a garbage chute that seems not quite closed properly. "Wait, is that a foot sticking out of that garbage chute?" she asks out loud, startled. "Definitely keep your eyes on everything and your hands by any weapons you might have." She is definitely paying more attention, listening to Nadiri's explanation and hoping that they don't have to stay, but can find the information they need without.

"We are looking for a droid engineer, if we can find one," she says finally, admitting to it.

Tallie feels faintly ridiculous being vigilant as they walk in and out of the darkness until she sees a dirty-faced face child with disheveled hair of perhaps eight slip up behind Callax, trying to relieve him of the knife at his side. Following Jax's lead and fishing out a ration bar from her utility belt to hand to the child, she skips to Callax's side, giving the pilot a sidelong glance.

"Here, try this. I don't think he'd enjoy losing that knife," she says kindly to the child, no taller than mid-chest to her.

The word of contagion reaches her, it's no surprise to her. Nadiri's chirpy narrative is strange in comparison to the rat's nests of tents sown down the corridors and the dire poverty so much in evidence. She watches the faces of people passing by, alert for her friend though she is relatively sure he will be in what passes for a medical center among the ships.

The child grabs the bar, pushing back hair from narrowed eyes. "He doesn't need the knife. I do. So, thanks," she complains, angrily.

"I misspoke, because the measles are not common so much as they are commonly vaccinated. I may need to look closer, but I believe they exhibit symptoms of the measles. It could be in the air, it could be spread by touch. Close quarters living for prolonged periods of time beget all manner of illness and disease." Aryn offers to Ax whilst they walk. She is not carelessly loud, but speaks in a conversational tone. "There is, of course, a cure, though I did not bring it with me. It would be a substance I would have to order." Something she could inoculate the others with post-op, should the need be apparent. In the accounting of this, Aryn's gaze has wandered from face to face to make a mental count of how many she saw exhibiting these symptoms, and also wondered if the air scrubber situation might bear addressing first in priority. What good was a cure if the air was poisoned?

When the state of the air changed, Aryn unclipped her rebreather from her belt to don it, activating the device once it was in place.

"Staying here wouldn't be possible. We would just be taxing a system overburdened to the breaking point... No no..." brows knitting together, Qutha shakes his head. "Miss - I insist, we have the most ill be brought to my ship" looking to Rey, "I'd dare not volunteer yours, Rey - it isn't my place." looking to the Kijimian again fully oblivious that what little dried fruit, ration bars, and other little odds and ends were being stripped from him. At least he's a font of food for them.

"I can get those to a place where they can have proper medical treatment and I can make return flights, as many as are needed to get as many as we can to where they can have proper treatment. I'll work day and night as I must. But please, let us help in a fashion that actually does good for your people. Not perpetuating this..." he gestures about, and the zelosian's expression is one of heartbreak, "This place is a tomb. But you're all still alive... Get to health and safety, then seek out a new home. Yes?" will it work? He suspects not. But his instinct tells him to take the shot, no matter what. No fear in the face of oblivion and defeat.

"I know someone who has some bulk transports for very cheap," Callax says to Nadiri, lips set into a grim line as they walk through the market. "Arrange some crews, and you'll be able to convert the containers into spacious quarters. Let me know and I'll see to it for you. A gift from the Rangers." They're about to speak again when Tallie apparently foils a robbery; their gauntleted fingers grip harder around the pommel of the long knife, and then they crouch down prepared to their eyes flicker at the child as they do so. Blue eyes fixed upon hers, hard crystal.

"The blade is haunted," they tell her, matter of fact. "It's killed too many First Order to be useful to you, the filth never comes off. But I'll hire you to tell me about the ships here. One hundred up front. Fair to you, yes?"

~ Being a father, it was hard on Ax to see kids in need, but he wasn't currently in position to help in the way he wishes he could. So, he sucks it up and keeps moving forward. He'd likely insure that a shipment of foodstuffs and medical supplies get diverted here through his fixers on Skip 1. Looking back to Aryn, "Let me know what it is, I'll see that a few crates end up here to the medical staff." Though, there was little guarantee that it wouldn't be diverted to some black market sales once it got here.

Ax looks to Qutha for a moment, "If you need assistance in goods, please let me know. I'm an accomplished smuggler and I've got a couple of contacts to get medical supplies, rations, a good many other things if necessary."

Ax looks to Callax as well, but he doesn't comment. Not yet at least. Maybe it was time for an intervention, or maybe having Cax committed to an asylum for a few weeks, followed by some nice drugs to keep them calm. ~

The problem with feeding one child a ration bar is others show up. Jax is prepared but woefully under supplied. He's got 3 momre ration bars but he's hold up his hands empty after that. He cuts his eyes over to Ax and says, "Let me know and I'll bank roll some extra too." He's expression far from his happiest. His eyes watching the scene. He had a bad feeling but it's hard to have a good feeling.

there's a lot here to look at, even if what one is looking at is less than ideal. The situation here is grim, perhaps one of the most grim situations Rey has seen in all her time of exploring the galaxy over the past several years. It's, disheartening, but it can be fixed.

She listens to the ideas and suggestionst hat others are making and she was in the process of looking toward Tallie when she saw the thief get stopped. It makes Rey purse her lips in to a thin line. Her eyes go back forward then.

"Perhaps we can appeal to the Republic to spare some... manner of industrial sized air filters. Something that might be used on their fleet ships, the Mon Cal class cruisers. It would seem like a great way for the Republic to showcase their desire to help the galaxy recover."

Otherwise though, rey remains quiet with her hands in front of her lap, her lightsaber resting on her belt against her left forearm.

Qutha's words to her, has Rey nodding softly. "I'l have to speak to Chewie, but I'm sure he'll be happy to transport the most dire to wherever we can to get them aid."

For the residents of this inner-mid rim of ships (they may have entered into the outer holds of a bulky) the odor of their own existence no longer triggers an olfactory response. The slightly reduced Oxygen content is also unideal, but for most of them daily life had transpired at high altitudes, thinner air, before this tragedy ever came to pass. It's manageable, yet, even if a small but noteable percentage of people seem to suffer from a little cough and short-windedness. As terrible as it all might seem, life finds a way. The periodic squall of an infant makes this obvious.

What else is there to do aboard the Flotilla but make more of themselves, when not on rotation to mine, trade, scout, or thieve? Izek was perhaps the first Kijimi to be born without a rock to his name, but he certainly wasn't the last.

"We been lookin a long time," Nadiri says with the first hint of sorrow since the tour began and flaps a hand around, then back to Qutha. "Early on, looked like maybe the mountains down there might do, but....well, some stayed. Been sending scouting ships on runs ever since. Testin' mineral content an' whatnot. Needs t'be some credit down in the rock if we're to sit 'pon it. An' nobody else's rules an' regulations neither. We govern our own."

Which maybe was why there was a shoe and/or foot stickin out that garbage chute back there and kids gainfully self-employed as cutpurses. Still, all things considered, they HAVE done a remarkable job organizing this chaos into a system on resource acquisition and rotation. Binding ships and selves together for the greater good of all inhabitants...even if that 'great' is really just mediocre. A couple more bulk transports WOULD help thin the herd a bit, yes.

"I'll send word t'the dockmaster t'give you an escort 'round to zone seven," Nadiri pauses in her steps for the first time after descending from a somewhat bouncy catwalk to the main floor of this bulky-turned condo/market complex. "Can't tell ya how many'er there now, fer I dunno. Maybe ten, twenty hundred? Every day, I see few less faces around, my quarter. Can't say what's like elsewheres." A deep breath and she rests a hand on Yari's shoulder.

It's imperceivably shrugged off. And so down goes her hood. Fiery hair's on full display, just in time to look her Daddy in the eye when the man bent behind a makeshift counter stands up and turns 'round in response to the

"Our 'ambassador'. Galen, these be the fellows what helped us outta the latest stitch, fellows, this be Galen what who's...lookin mighty fetchin in today's threads!" The odd remark blurts out as the tall man's mouth turns down into an almost audible frown within the auburn boundaries of stubbly beard. His gray-blue eyes burn a hole directly through the lot of them to Yari, standing there dumb like a womprat in the crosshairs. Before he can so much as growl out a WHY DID YOU BRING HER HERE, Nadiri is scampering away, hollerin "They're here 'bout need a droid engineer, figured you take it from here!!"

Galen glares, his body a lean tower of too little food and arthritis-flaring work. The once-hardy flush to his cheeks is graying. A question is asked first through a flurry of jerky, abrupt hand signs to Yari, punctuated with a slap to his bar. 'Starbird Tavern' is etched into the plastisteel counter.

Yari flinches only a little and signs something meekly back before immediately passing blame over her shoulder to the others with a gesturing of thumb. As ya do.

A pitter patter of small boots comes drummin back down the stairs as Nadiri remembers a lost thought. "If yer lookin t'lose some ships, here's the place to do it!" To the back of Callax's head before up she flees again.

Zandra doesn't back down at this, nope. She is there near to Yari, and she stays there. "Galen? Oh!" She catches on, at least. "Ambassador Galen, I'm Zandra, pleased to meet you. Yari wanted to see, we brought her with us. Unless she chooses to stay, she'll leave with us as well," she says first. Note - it's Yari's choice. "We are looking for Babu Frik, seeking his help with a droid that needs some of his gentle care." She's earnest, and standing tall, not flinching from the anger on display.

"And while I can see that you are a hardy and strong people, we are all hoping that we might be able to provide some assistance as repayment for the help with my droid." No beating around the bush, just laying it out. As you do.

Dark eyes widen at Callax's words. They form a minor roadblock that the others would need to walk around as Callax makes his proposal, kneeling at the child's height. Surprise makes the child falter and take a deep breath, but quick wits counter, "Two hundred and something to eat, and it's a deal. Come on. I know /all/ the ships," she brags. Callax has earned a zealous limpet to tag along with him for the rest of their visit.

Tallie bites her lips hard, hiding a smile at Callax's tale of the haunted knife. She waits for them to complete their negotiation, casting a glance at Nadiri's retreating form, unwilling to get separated from the others. With a shrug to the pilot, "She knows /all/ the ships. That is a great idea," she adds with a quick appreciative smile. "Let's catch up."

They do, Tallie walking ahead of Callax and his escort. She catches the tail end of the presentation to the Ambassador. Staying on the edge of the group, she watches, puzzled at the exchange of frowns between the thin tower of a man and Yari.

"I will send word for what is needed if you have the means to procure it," Aryn replied to Ax, though the notion of smuggling went RIGHT over her head. Aryn had no experience with smugglers, or many people who skirted the law (for profit or otherwise). There was an innocent honesty to Aryn, who at times, still perceived the world through a noble's eyes. Despite the obvious state of affairs inside these collection of vessels, Aryn remained objective in that she and the New Alderaan as a whole, offered them all land to live, in a climate of their choosing, at no cost save their obedience to the law. The life they lived here, stubbornly, was one they sought themselves and not from the negligence of New Alderaan or the New Republic. Aryn learned from the Kijimi people that if someone needed help, they had to want it first. For this reason, Aryn's expression never changes from neutral; she didn't pity, either.

"I do not speak of putting you in governance, just the opportunity to be tended to medically. Maybe your people can acquire equipment for repairs. I don't know." the Zelosian frowns and shakes his head slightly but he quiets and steps back some. Hands folding into his robes again while he watches all of the madness and commotion.

Qutha begins calculating, how to move people or equipment as needed. How much fruit and vegetables have been grown in his various gardens. All a matter to what he is able to get produced, again. Time will tell.

~ Ax listens, Zan's finally met with someone who maybe might possibly think they know where this Babble guy is that she's hunting for. Why she needed that particular droid engineer, he didn't know, his wife seemed to do pretty well with handling all his needs for droid programming and such, including with Donk the Droideka. It really wasn't his concern though, and he was just here supporting a friend and making sure that she didn't succumb to anything untoward. She got her start as a trader, and was still pretty young and he didn't want to see her get taken advantage of.

The Echani finds a wall to lean up against, figuring that if his flightsuit could keep him safe in vaccuum, it should at least be able to keep any nastiness from seeping through to his skin. He would just stand back, watch, and make sure there were no threats, not that Zan wasn't safe with the others here, but Ax was the only one other than Jax who dealt with criminals on a daily basis. ~

Callax produces the coins up front, and then produces a ration bar from a thigh pocket - these are made by Yari and her beasties back on /Relentless/, packed with vitamins and all that and Delicious Homecooked Flavor(tm). "Come on, darling," they tell the child then, "Walk with me. And keep your hands to yourself, please." And off they go, hands on knife and belt, walking along to follow the rest....until they get to Galen.

Ah.

"Hold here," Callax tells the girl, fairly sure that she'll take off -- taking a step forward they stand next to Yari now, stony and sober in the face of his raging. Chest out, eyes hard. Calm yourself, sir. Good behavior.