Sirian Vaat

“I have a bad feeling about this,†Dega Vok said with concern, the nautolan padawan running his fingers around the end of one of his many head tendrils as the crowd stormed out of the great hall. “Where to, Sirian?â€Â

The tall, armoured Jedi beside him glanced sidelong to the green-skinned, young Jedi as he tightened the straps on his chest-plate. “To the hangar, Greenie. We have a job to do.â€Â

Dega frowned, disapproving of the nickname Sirian insisted upon since their meeting. As it referred to the color of Dega’s skin, it also touched on Dega’s inexperience as a Jedi. “You’re a padawan, the same as I, remember,†he reminded Sirian.

“Then stop acting like a youngling,†Sirian shot back gruffly as he stalked past to follow the crowd. “I’m not going to be able to hold your hand up there, so I suggest you steel your nerves. When we get up there, you’ll need to carry your own weight.â€Â

With a sigh of indignation, Dega padded off after Sirian, the two padawans quickly making their way to the crowded hangars. Pilots were climbing into their two-man fighters and taking off, drawing the attention of everyone nearby as they stopped to take in the sight of the twenty-some ships rising into the sky. Trooper squads thundered up the ramps into their gun-ships, with a pair of Jedi Knights to each ship, and rumbled into the air. Privateers and smugglers, their fees already paid in full, ushered the leftover troopers and Jedi, and anyone willing to help, onto their private ships.

“Over there,†Sirian said, jabbing Dega on the shoulder. The nautolan winced, reaching for his bruised shoulder as he turned to Sirian. The taller Jedi was gone. Looking down into the crowd, Dega found Sirian charging through the masses, heading for a small, stock freighter. Sighing once again, Dega hurried off after him.

The ramp of the small vessel closed just as Dega got inside. A small unit of troopers were busy checking their equipment, and rechecking. Dega spotted Sirian making his way through the back, heading for the cockpit no doubt.

“Fine ship you have here,†Sirian said as he came to stand behind the young human pilot’s chair in the cockpit. “Funny – I could’ve sworn this ship belonged to a Telosian spice-miner who’s laid-up in the base’s medical bay right now. Or am I mistaken?â€Â