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"On what planet were you born?"

"Kashyyk. I'm a Wookiee... can't you tell?"

"What is your background?"

"I'm a Hutt in human form, planning to overthrow the Republic."

"How old are you?"

"3012. Healthy living, you know."

"... I see you intend to be childish about this."

~ Bastila Shan, Revan

Baarok Manor would, by most standards in the Galaxy, be considered simplistic and primitive from any off-world visitor looking from the outside. It consisted of seven mildly interesting, hollow cone-shaped rock structures arranged in a circle jutting skyward, with strong hardwood and durasteel bridges connecting each spire to its closest neighbor on either side. Beyond that, there seemed to be no flair of culture to mark it as anything more than an unusual, inhabited rock formation. Only to the Trianii of Ekibo was the manor more than a peculiar geological formation; to them, it was a place of life and healing.

Indeed, despite the peace that permeated the structure there was much in the way of spirit and life within each spire, bright colors bursting from every angle and beautifully constructed decorations hanging from the walls. Hanging from the ceilings or along windowsills were exotic plants both native and imported, with eye-catching hues peeking from their fronds, resting in deep red clay pottery with Trianii script, articulating the culture's Prayer of Health; thick, beautifully woven rugs and tapestries that seemed to recount popular Trianii folklore; furniture composed of finely crafted woodwork; and remarkably comfortable cushioning that seemed to give way to any weight.

The last of these artistic comforts was currently being tested by Captain Lynch as he ran his remaining hand across the soft fabric of his bed, the stump of his other arm lightly bandaged and slathered in a sweet-smelling concoction that Aarn had applied. Syrra swallowed all the same. As comfortable as Lynch looked, and as happy as he seemed for being alive, she could not help glancing at his missing appendage.

"I am so sorry, Captain," she offered with a shudder, unable to look him in the eye.

"Don't be like that, kid. You did a hell of a job back there." He followed her gaze to the stump, waving dismissively. "Look, Syrra, it ain't your fault. If you hadn't pulled off that miracle at the last second, not a single bit of me, or you for that matter, would've been saved. I can deal with havin' one arm for the rest of my life because I still have my life, thanks to you. And thanks to your uncle doc here, I won't have to. He tells me he'd be more than happy to set me up with a cyber-limb replacement as thanks for bringing you here."

"But I didn't do anything," she insisted.

"You brought our airspeed down just enough that I was able to activate the ship's landing repulsors and landing struts. The speed we were going, the ship had both locked down. You had your eyes closed so you didn't see how much we slowed down by, but I swear on my ma's life you had the Force working for you right then and there," he assured her.

Syrra managed a sad smile. "I hope you're right. I'm feeling kinda useless right now."

"Why? Even if you don't believe what I'm telling you, you still dragged my sorry ass out of that wreckage before the fire got to the cockpit. You may not feel like you're a Jedi right now, but at least believe me when I say you're a big damn hero in my book." He stretched a bit, wincing as the motion seemed to exacerbate a few of the bruises he'd picked up. "About the only other downside I can see is that now I can't teach you starship travel. Sorry about that, kid, but there ain't a big enough roll of duct tape in the galaxy to bind the Truly Sorrier back together again."

The offhand joke was enough to cause the Trianii to chuckle softly, feeling a little better. "It's alright. It's better you spend that time recovering, anyway. What should I do, then?"

Lynch laughed. "What I brought you here to do. Get the job done. And see if you can ask that other starship captain, the wolf-guy, to teach you how to pilot a starship. I'll see about getting us transport off this place while you're away."

Syrra nodded, standing and offering her paw. "Thank you, Lynch, for everything. Recover well."

Lynch squeezed her paw and shook. "Take care, kitten. And may the Force be with you."

"It's what I keep trying to tell you, Captain. I really don't have any control over what my sister-in-law does. In this case, she was most insistent."

"I get that, but really? This Jedi Order sent an over-aged Padawan? I thought you needed some serious help with this situation!" The wolf paced in front of Aarn's blackwood desk, a sour look on his face as he spoke. "How old is she, anyway? I thought Padawans were supposed to be kids, but she doesn't even look like she's in her twentieth cycle! What kind of academy--"

"Captain Surnahm, if you please!" Aarn said, calmly but loudly. "Take a seat before you wear a hole in the rug with your pacing, and I will explain everything! I can't give you answers if you cut me off to ask more questions."

Had either of them been any less tense, they could have at that point noticed the quiet creak of the office's wooden door as it opened a crack. On the other side Syrra waited, frowning as she eavesdropped outside her uncle's office. She had heard the raised voices halfway down the hall and, concerned for her uncle's welfare, had crept up quietly to ensure he was alright. With as much stealth as she knew, she leaned in closer and peeked into the room, spotting the wolfish-looking captain as he let out an exasperated sigh. He dropped into a nearby black-and-crimson seat, then brightened, adjusting his seat and settling himself into the cushion.

"So... not to change the topic or anything, but this thing is pretty comfortable. Where'd you get it?"

The black-furred Trianii offered him a bland smile. "The cushioning is made of a silk compound from off-world ice-glade moths. By all means, you can have it if you want, when you leave. My sister-in-law purchased it for me when my mate accepted me. Far too expensive for my tastes, but she's always been impulsive, both within the family and within the yu'nar." He gestured to a tapestry to Kajex's left, the bust-image of a tall, strong Trianii female with golden fur staring solemnly into the distance.

"My mate's lineage has been sporadically strong in the Force, although neither she nor her sister – my mate, Iaora – inherited any sensitivity to it. Nevertheless, even from a young age Bast has always been an influential member of her community, and these days she works as one of the most effective matriarchs in the whole of the Trianii core worlds. Her influence is widespread enough that she holds sway off-planet. Even the CSA is mindful of her policies when they attempt to deal with our people. She's become a valued and highly-respected leader because of it." He returned his gaze to the wolf. "I confess, however, it has caused her on more than one occasion to make brash decisions on her family's behalf at times. Often it's to our benefit, though I suspect she has her own motives."

"Alright, I get that, but why did they send this Padawan?" the wolf pressed. "Is she some kind of Force-sensitive close relative of hers? Is that why this Academy sent her and not one of their Knights or Masters?"

"As it turns out, that's precisely the reason. Syrra was asked for by name because she is Bast's daughter; the first in two generations to possess a connection to the Force. She only joined the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV about half a year ago, but I'm told she's something a combat prodigy there. So far away from the Republic, she had only heard about the Praxeum two years ago and insisted that she'd be able to join." He gestured to the tapestry. "Bast's family was one of the few within the Wild Space Regions to offer considerable donations to the original Jedi Order, before the end of the Clone Wars, and they heavily endorsed the work they did. Despite her personal reservations to her daughter attending she eventually relented, hoping to contribute to them for the same reasons."

"Why? Is she hoping they'll help influence her political interests?"

The elder man chuffed. "Hardly. I just said we were outside the Republic. The Jedi then served only them, and in many respects the new Order does the same. Politics in the Wild Space region don't interest the New Republic, and vice-versa."

"It wouldn't prevent a Grand Master from sending in a Jedi to influence policies in CSA or Trianii space," the wolf suggested.

Aarn raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't think it would either. I also don't think you believe that for a moment."

The remark generated a frown on the wolf's face. "… Okay, you're right. I don't. So what's this about a new-- praxeum, was it?"

"A kind of Jedi academy, from what I understand, being run by Jedi Master Luke Skywalker."

"Skywalker?" the wolf repeated. "The same Rebel pilot that's been throwing wrenches in the Empire's gears for the last decade?"

Aarn nodded. "The very same. Since the end of the Galatic Civil War he's developed his abilities and connection to the Force, and with funding and aid from the New Republic he's spent the last few years collecting students, gathering old Jedi data from Imperial databases on Coruscant, knowledge and relics the ruins of Jedi temples on other worlds, and so on. He's been using what he's learned to teach new students, though not without great difficulty, I'm told."

"Does he also 'collect' children for recruits like the old order did?" the wolf asked, frowning again.

"Thankfully, no. He apparently feels it reflects poorly on their Order, and allows students to come and go as they will. Therefore, adults mostly make up the ranks of the Jedi Order, with children being allowed to study only with their parents' consent. Skywalker also encourages a more hands-on approach towards studying, and sends student/teacher pairs to aid the Republic, and more recently even non-Republic worlds. It is believed that he hopes this will improve their social standing in the galaxy, to show they can contribute without heavy political influence."

"Well, I'd call that a step up," the wolf scoffed. "Doesn't sound so bad- even sounds a bit sensible. But about this kid--"

"My niece is not just a Padawan," the Trianii doctor cut him off with a slight edge in his voice. "Nor is she a child. She has spent five years as a Trianii Ranger, patrolling the surfaces of our worlds. She had trained since her fifth cycle to join their ranks, and I assure you she met the Ranger's qualifications easily as an accomplished fighter, despite her stature. My mate and I have also spent years teaching her medicine and healing as part of her studies. Syrra knows the Trian system, the cities, the politics, economy and culture just as well as the most devoted of the Rangers. Aided by the Force, I quite certain she will be a valuable ally while you work." There was a pause. "Unless you have decided that you would like to terminate our contract. I will not think less of you if that is the case. I'm well-aware that there are many within and without the Republic that don't trust the Jedi. Not without good reason," he added quietly.

The wolf did not answer immediately, pinching the bridge of his snout as he let out a long sigh. "No, I'm not quitting the job. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Captain," Aarn sighed, looking pleased. "I can understand if this is an uncomfortable arrangement. Would you like to renegotiate the terms of our agreement?"

"Am I expected to split my pay with her?" the wolf asked pointedly.

"Not at all. Bast has already seen to it that the Jedi Order will be compensated for taking on our request. You may need to offer her food, however. I will gladly cover any expenses you might incur while she accompanies--"

It had gone on long enough, Syrra decided, as she burst through the door into her office. "Uncle, no!"

Both men glanced up at her, the captain arching an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, kid?" he asked gruffly.

She glared daggers at him but said nothing as she shouldered past him and slammed her paws on her kin's desk. "<You don't need to pay this lout! You shouldn't have to hire a mercenary just to find what happened to our people!>"

The doctor shook his head, responding in their tongue. "<This was my decision, Syrra. The Trianii Rangers have their jurisdiction, and it doesn't extend into CSA space. A lone mercenary will draw less attention. I'm also counting on his skillset to undertake this task.>"

Syrra chuffed irritably in the canine mercenary's direction, her tone loaded with disdain for him. "<More effective that what a Jedi can offer? I'm certain I can complete this task without the help of an insatiate, money-grubbing, beast of a mer-->"

"<Syrra, that is enough! I'll not tolerate this language!>" Aarn hissed, looking appalled by her words. He glanced at the wolf nervously, whose cold expression indicated that he seemed to understand that Syrra did not think highly of him. "<Captain Kajex Surnahm has offered me a far more reasonable price for his services than the average mercenary and has expressed he wishes to help for the benefit of our-->"

"<He's not even Trianii, Uncle! Why the hell should he care?!>" she snarled.

"<Because I'm not a scumbag.>"

The Trianii female flinched and a chill seemed to run through her blood as Kajex spoke their language with perfect fluency, causing her to turn to him. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her with his arms folded, a cold fury in his features. Aarn seemed at a loss for words at the wolf's unexpected skill in the Trianii language. Though it was rough, and not smooth and rolling like her race, it was nevertheless as easy to understand his words as it was to detect the calm anger underlying his tone of voice. He took a step forward and she found herself taking a step back in response, tension building as he spoke.

"<Let's get something straight, kitten,>" he growled softly. "<I'm not the kind of mercenary that signs up with slave traders, takes up bounty hunting, harasses businesses on behalf of loan sharks, or earns his reputation by working for planet-destroying conglomerates like the CSA. You're thinking of the real monsters of the universe; the ones who destroy lives, kill for thrills and generally make their slice of space a horrible place to live in. If I didn't give a damn about your people, I wouldn't have bothered learning to speak your tongue in the twenty years I've lived in CorpSec and Trianii space.Sso consider that before calling me a 'beast.'>"

He paused, staring at the red-faced female Trianii, who shrank back in shame now that she realized he'd understood everything she had said.

"<Either way I'm here now. And I'm not backing down because some hot-headed, Jedi-wannabe punk thinks I need to butt out,>" he finished, looking to Aarn.

The physician hesitated before speaking. "<I apologize for thi-->"

But the wolf cut him off. "<I'll take the job, Doc. You asked for me, I'm not abandoning a client who actually needs it.>"

The Trianii's eyes widened, a look of apprehension painting his features. "<You are sure?>"

Kajex nodded, still glaring at Syrra. "<I'm sure. And I'll even work with this... Padawan, as well,>" he added.

"<I-- Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your patience.>"

"<It'll cost extra, though.>" This drew a growl from Syrra, but it failed to faze him.

The elder Trianii hesitated. "<How much extra?>"

The wolf smirked, speaking once again in Basic. "I'm taking the chair."

They agreed to meet during dinner to discuss the details of their mission, though once the rather aggressive introductions were concluded, Kajex had sauntered out of the office (with the chair) and back to his ship. He did not offer any other words towards the Trianii Padawan (though he had left the room with an insufferable wink and grin she was certain Aarn hadn't seen), but she had at least possessed enough sense not to make the situation worse and said nothing in response, allowing her uncle to admonish her in private. After getting what she admitted was a justified earful for her behavior, however, she was free to wander the manor at her leisure.

She had spent years at this estate, training in the ways of medicine from her aunt and uncle; it was also the location her juvenile trainer met her at, using her adolescent years training to become a Trianii Ranger in addition to self-training her own Force abilities (with limited progress). Thus she was familiar with the hallways, the grounds and the general atmosphere of the one place on Ekibo she really felt at home, moreso than she did on her own family's property. In the few hours after meeting the wolfish captain she was able to internalize the outwards peace, washing away the feelings of aggression she'd built up after her encounter with the wolf captain. Thankfully, he seemed comfortable enough on his own ship, having decided not to show up until the call for the evening meal was issued. This suited Syrra well, feeling she could do without seeing her new, unwanted partner as much as possible.

Aarn, however, did not feel the same way; something he reminded her of before the wolf could arrive to join them.

"Your mother thought that sending you to the Jedi Academy would allow you the means to comport yourself with more respect for others, in the hopes that you might succeed her. I hope for your sake that your earlier behavior was an isolated incident. This new Jedi Order may be just as tolerant of your anger and rudeness as the old." He peered at her seriously from the other side of the table, while the estate servants set out tableware and plates. "The last thing I want is for anybody, no matter what species they are, to feel unwelcome while they are at this manor. You know full well I established it as a place of peace and healing, to emulate the compassion of Ekibo. You would do well to practice that peace."

"I've already apologized, Uncle. I allowed my anger to get the better of me, and I assure you it won't happen again," Syrra said quietly, staring at her cup and trying to avoid meeting the gaze of the other female Trianii in the dining hall.

Across from her, Aarn's mate Iaora gazed intently at her niece, her blue eyes framed against a troubled brow. She was quite unlike her mate in many ways; where he was stocky, pleasant-faced and black-furred, Iaora was tall and graceful, with an agile frame; her pelt was pearl-colored and her white mane was braided straight down her back. When she spoke, it was with a soothing, gentle tone that seemed to settle Syrra's nerves; one that sought understanding and kindness rather than stoked the unpleasantness she was feeling. "It is not enough that you apologized to us, Syrra. You have yet to make amends with the young captain of whom you spoke poorly of. You should not let that offense fester into something worse, regardless of what you think of him."

"I would have said something had he not left abruptly," she protested.

"Even if you did not see his ship when you arrived, I'm sure you recall where the landing pad is, cub," Iaora chided her gently. "Just as I'm sure he would not object to you approaching to ask his pardon for your words. When he enters, I would advise you to make an effort to be civil with him, starting with a sincere apology. You may not care for his occupation, but his intention is to help us all the same. Do not fault him for asking for compensation for his time and effort, particularly as he has asked for very little." She paused long enough to chirp her thanks to the servants, who had just brought out the dishes. "If nothing else, demonstrate to him that you can conduct yourself as a student of the Force."

Syrra nodded, feeling the burn of shame in her cheeks. "Very well."

"We know you tend to balk at your mother's words where it concerns diplomacy and politics, cub," Aarn told her gently, looking less stern, "but you know Iaora is right. Listen to her, as you always have." He looked ready to say more, but then stood abruptly, raising his paw in greeting as their guest finally arrived. "Captain, I'm glad you arrived."

Syrra stood as well, centering herself before turning her sight to the wolf. He looked better groomed than he had appeared earlier, having left behind his longcoat and donned a cleaner set of relaxed clothing for the occasion. She hesitated, then stepped forward, trying to keep her eyes up at him.

"Captain Surnahm, about earlier today. I... I offer my apologies for my unkind words. I had no excuse for speaking poorly of you and trying to conceal it. If there's any--"

Kajex raised a paw, a wry smile on his muzzle. "Kid, it's fine. I've been called a lot worse, let's just put it behind us."

Syrra hesitated, then nodded, taking her seat again as Kajex took the only remaining chair, opposite Aarn. "Well, I'm glad that went smoothly," Aarn admitted. "I was worried you'd be reticent to join us for dinner, we haven't seen you all day."

"Nah, I wasn't bothered by what happened earlier," the wolf assured them all. "I just put off lunch so I could get some work on my ship done. Lack of credits and lack of crew means I gotta tend to repairs by myself, and those can take a while." He arched an eyebrow at the well-cooked meal of meat and seasoned vegetables. "Of course, I wasn't going to say no after the last three meals you served," he added with a slight smile.

"We're happy to have you join us," Iaora said pleasantly. "Now that we've settled that, perhaps we can discuss the matter at hand as we eat."

"I have placed all the information you may need on these," Aarn said as he passed two datapads to Syrra and Kajex. "Keep those with you. It lists all the missing ships, personnel, cargo and hyperspace lanes our business uses in its delivery system."

"Do you suspect anybody, uncle?" Syrra asked as she set it upright.

Aarn shook his head sadly. "No one. One might think the CSA might have a hand in this, but our operation has never truly drawn their ire before. No pirate organization has made any ransom demands, and my contacts in the black market haven't discovered our cargo making rounds."

"Maybe you should start from the beginning, then," Kajex suggested, spearing a sprig of vegetable garnish with a utensil. "When did the ships start vanishing?"

"We suffered our first loss seven months ago. At first I simply thought an accident had occurred, an unfortunate encounter that we all risk when we travel through the stars, and so I sent an investigation team to ascertain the crew's fate. Such investigations typically only take two weeks, maximum. The team did not return until after a month had passed, and could offer no explanation for what had happened. They checked multiple hyperspace vectors for potential mobile hazards that might have failed to be detected by the ship. They also checked missing-person reports and prisons, soup kitchens and affiliated safehouses on multiple worlds, on the off-chance that the crew might be in hiding or apprehended. They came up with nothing."

"How many more ships have gone missing since then?" Kajex asked around a muzzleful of steak.

"Four, coming out to five ships, seventy-five crew members and an estimated loss of 450,000 credits. The supplies have consisted mainly of bacta and kolto cells and injectors, as well as some of our culture's medicinal and surgical salves and adhesives. I personally hand-select the crew from a combination of retired Trianii Rangers and medically trained students, all of them Trianii." Aarn noticed Kajex's skeptical look and explained. "I must be pragmatic with my business, I'm afraid, but I assure you I don't do this for xenophobic reasons. The herbs and salves require knowledge to maintain, and some of the ships are outfitted to actively manufacture, research and even develop new compounds while in transit. They require extensive study from a young age, relying on flora found, grown and harvested only on worlds within the Trian system. Only a Trianii or an off-worlder who has lived here from birth would know the secrets of our medicines."

"That we manufacture and research these pharmaceuticals en route to their destination is no secret to the CSA," Iaora interjected, "but it has given them the misguided impression that my mate's business is high-cost and behind production, which is primarily why we have not been bothered."

"Well, the CSA is the biggest fish in these parts aside from the Trianii matriarchs," Kajex agreed, "so if they haven't bothered you before there's no reason why they'd start now. Still, the loss you've sustained isn't exactly pocket change. Whoever is doing this isn't small-time, that's for sure."

"The financial loss is trivial," Aarn replied. "My business here makes enough credits as is, but I'm convinced that someone or something is kidnapping or perhaps even killing my employees, who are, more importantly, my friends. And they are depriving the impoverished of the planets we deliver to of medical supplies they need in order to alleviate their suffering." He gestured to Syrra. "When I brought this up to Bast she felt it was a perfect opportunity for the Jedi Order to demonstrate their effectiveness, although I'd cautioned her that I'd already procured your services. But perhaps the pair of you working together will get us a solution sooner."

Kajex pointedly said nothing, and Syrra arched an eyebrow at him, speaking in turn as she chewed slowly. "Is there anything connecting the missing ships? Family, off-world affiliations, specialized equipment or cargo? Maybe even the ship models?"

The elder Trianii looked pensive for a moment before speaking. "I had not considered it, but all four vessels after the first disappearance were manufacturing vessels, now that I think about it. And all of them launch from Fibuli, where our fleet is stationed. Perhaps that may be a key to keep in mind."

Syrra nodded, then steeled herself and turned to Kajex. "Do you have any suggestions?"

The wolf glanced at her, regarding her for a few moments, then shrugged. "To be honest we could go anywhere with this and I think we'd end up at exactly the same place no matter what – absolutely nowhere. We'll probably need a lot of luck to get us ahead." He mulled it over, then spoke. "First thing that I'd suggest is figuring out what damaged the Truly Sorrier."

Syrra blinked. "Wait, what?" she sputtered. "Why? What happened to the ship was completely unrelated."

"Was it?" the wolf countered skeptically. "Just call it a hunch, but I don't buy that your ship's equipment was somehow faulty and failed to catch some debris as it was coming out of hyperspace. I talked it over with you captain, Lynch, and he has no idea what did it, said he didn't see anything." He gestured to himself. "I've been flying almost twenty years, I can tell you right now that with most hyperspace disasters, it's easy to figure out what went wrong. But now we have a mystery concerning a ship suffering severe damage coming out of hyperspace from seemingly nothing, in a region where ships are disappearing in transit. I doubt it's a coincidence."

"I'll ask Captain Lynch, once he's recovered, if he would not mind investigating the wreckage for clues that may lead to the cause of Truly Sorrier's damage," Aarn offered with a nod.

Syrra shook her head, but did not attempt to argue the point any further. "Fine, anything else?"

"These ships that launch from Fibuli, is it from a surface or orbital station?"

"We possess docks on an orbital fueling station, but we utilize a surface station for dry docking and cargo loading."

"Why does that matter?" Syrra asked, frowning at the captain. "The ships aren't being lost on take-off."

"You're gonna have to learn a bit about how pilots and crews work, kid," the wolf said with a smirk.

She glared. "What does--" She stopped short, catching Iaora subtly shaking her head. With a moment to calm herself she settled for fixing a hard stare at him. "Elucidate, please."

"Put simply, if we want more information from pilots, we should go where pilots go," the wolf replied, folding his arms and grinning. "And the only thing pilots want more after a trip than sleeping – or sex – is a nice, stiff drink."

"Knanan City and its starport houses many drinking establishments I'm sure the ship crews may have frequented," Aarn informed them, seeming to catch on to the wolf's line of thinking. "The investigation team turned up nothing when questioning other pilots, but perhaps they should have widened their search."

"It... seems like a waste to check bars," Syrra said skeptically.

"You wanted me to elucidate, and I've elucidated," Kajex replied with a shrug. "If it were an orbital station they were docked at for a few days, I'd say check the station instead; but if they're making surface-side landings for cargo and waiting it out while it gets loaded, well, that's enough time to get noticed. Who knows, maybe whoever is behind this has an interest in the cargo."

"Fair enough," Syrra sighed.

"If you have other suggestions, I'm open to hearing them," the wolf followed up.

The query caused her ears to flatten slightly in irritation and shame. "I... no. Not right now."

"No sweat. Maybe the Force'll hit you with an epiphany," he chuckled, causing a pang of embarrassment to sting in her chest. Regardless if he meant it as a good-natured jest, it was unpleasant knowing that the Force seemed to be all she had going for her at the moment, and that it was drawing up short in comparison to the mercenary's suggestions.

"When should we get started?" Syrra asked, trying to suppress the feeling of inadequacy.

"I would suggest leaving tomorrow," Iaora answered.

The Trianii Padawan flinched at that. "Tomorr-- but..." She winced. "It's been a while since... I mean..." A part of her was ashamed to admit she missed being back at the manor again, but now she felt selfish wanting to stay a little longer. Her cheeks burned with shame for feeling so strongly about it, when her presence at the manor was in response to people in need.

If Iaora was disappointed in this, however, she did not express it. "We've missed you too, cub. I understand your heart's desire to linger here a little longer before duty sends you forward; I confess I would wish for you to stay a day longer as well. And yet I know you also understand that there may be lives at risk. Set aside your desires, at least for now, and do your people proud by going to their aid. Baarok Manor will still be here when you return."

The Jedi sighed, but managed a smile. "Alright."

Aarn had suggested that the two get started as soon as possible, once dinner had concluded. Thankfully the wolf had not done too much to dance on Syrra's nerves, but she resented Aarn's second suggestion – that she spend the night on the Rushin' Roulette. Kajex didn't seem to care one way or the other, but Syrra suspected that her earlier insults had not been completely forgotten.

They reached the docking bay just as the sun was setting. "Well, here she is. Go on, say it. Everyone else does."

Syrra's eyes scanned the ship intently. It was battered in several places, had scorch marks in others, all along a slightly disc-shaped, rugged-looking transport of Corellian design she had never seen before. The years appeared to have not been so kind to some parts of the vessel, having weathered what looked like several wars' worth of damage and repair.

"It looks... ancient?" she said uncertainly.

The wolf gave her a curious look before chuckling. "Okay, I'll admit that was not the word I was expecting. Most people that see her think she's a piece of crap, and they'll usually say as much." He shrugged, tapping the ramp controls. "Still, you're not wrong. She was built a long time ago, around a good three or four thousand years old. She's a pretty spry old lady," he grinned, motioning the Trianii up the ramp.

"If you say so," she replied. "As long as she gets off the ground without me losing my lunch, that's fine." She reached the top of the ramp, peering into the wide interior of the transport. There was a sort of empty feel to the craft, with very little in terms of décor or culture. "Still, this is a lot of ship for just one person, don't you think?"

"Probably," he admitted with a non-committal shrug, "but there have been other folks on board this vessel before besides me. On that note, don't mind any unusual odors, I had a guest over a couple days prior to help, ah... see me off."

She wondered what he was getting at before they reached the lounge. Then it hit her, only a moment after the odor. Her face twisted in mild disgust. "By the Force, give me a break," she hissed, walking past the captain as her hackles rose. "If you're trying to rouse me up by inspiring some weird, chauvinistic form of jealousy, you may as well forget it. You may not be a beast, but for my sake try not to act like a swine..."

"Relax, kid. You're going to be mighty disappointed and constantly shocked if you think the rest of the universe is as prudish as you are," the wolf chuckled.

"Wh-- I am not prudish!" she argued indignantly, her fur bristling at the remark.

"Sure you aren't. You want to act like a Jedi and you want to make sure you play the part, including celibacy," he grinned, tapping the door controls and closing the hatch. "Don't worry, I have hand-sanitizer in the 'fresher for keeping pure, if it bugs you."

Syrra fumed silently, struggling to find something to say, before recalling her aunt's words. "If nothing else, demonstrate to him that you can conduct yourself as a student of the Force."

The effect as immediate, her anger ebbing away quickly. "I'm not prudish," she repeated. "Although I'll admit that I'm less interested in sex than many others my age. I ask, however, that you at least respect that if you can. If you can do that, I'll not chide you for whatever... harlots you bring on board your own ship."

Kajex considered her, and nodded. "Fair enough. And don't call them harlots. I don't bring sex workers to this ship. The guest in question is a very dear friend of mine."

"Fine, you're girlfriends or whatever."

"Not quite that either, but we have an understanding." He cleared his throat. "Okay so... a few ground rules while you're here. Cockpit's up this hall," he thumbed over his shoulder, "don't go in there unless I'm in there already, and don't touch anything on the console unless I tell you to. Main cargo hold is down this hall," he pointed off to his right, "it's the biggest room of empty I have on this ship. Don't go in there without a glow lamp, I don't want you to trip and break your neck over the containers and have to explain to your mother what happened, right?" Syrra rolled her eyes, but nodded in acknowledgment. "Escape pods are by the passenger ramp, keycode is 7511, don't leave without me. Captain's quarters is the first room on the right down this hall."

He gestured to the hall on his right again. "Knock first unless you want to risk seeing what the adoption center saw when they found me. The crew quarters is where you'll be staying, down that hall again, on the starboard-aft side. It's cozy enough, just pick the bunk you want, nobody else has claimed them, so you can use the lockers there to store your gear. The galley is between my room and the cargo hold, you're welcome to any of my rations." He clapped his paws together. "That's about it! Any questions?"

"Got anything to do around here?" she asked. There didn't seem to be much to indicate what the wolf did in his free time.

"The crew quarters have bedside consoles attached to them for work orders, but they're all connected to my ship's server," he offered. "You can peruse through my onboard entertainment folders for music, movies, reading material, pornogra--"

"Captain."

"I'm just teasing you, relax," the wolf chuckled. "There is porn there, though, just a head's up. You're welcome to it, I'm serious. I have to believe even the old Jedi Masters had to unwind biologically, and I'm not going to be ungenerous enough to say no."

Syrra rolled her eyes, but kept her temper in check. "I appreciate your hospitality, Captain Surnahm – however strange it is."

"Other than that, you're welcome to use whatever space I'm not currently using to meditate, study, swing your lightsaber around, just as long as you don't put a hole in the hull, alright?"

"I'll try to restrain myself," she replied, managing a wry smile.

"Good enough. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to find a place to put your uncle's comfy chair in my room and sit in it for a while. Rest well!" He sauntered down the hall, stopping short. "Oh, and one other thing."

"Yes?"

"The name's Kajex. You can use it."

"... Thank you, Kajex."

"You're welcome, Syrra," he said with a grin, before ducking into his quarters and sealing the hatch behind him.

The plan had been to leave at 0600 hours, which was still ten hours away. Unable to tell if Kajex had turned in early (and unwilling to ask), she had deemed it considerate not to engage in a night-time saber training drill, and instead set about making herself as comfortable as she could. It took only minutes for the Trianii to get settled into the quarters she'd been offered, a small room with moderately comfortable bunk beds and a pair of secure lockers on the opposite wall. As training as a Jedi had meant leaving behind personal items, she had little with her beyond her utility belt, her lightsaber, and a fresh change of robes. With nothing else to do, she decided to spend an hour in meditation, attempting to achieve a sense of calm despite the rattled nerves she'd suffered from in the last forty-eight hours. By the end of the hour she was calmer.

But bored.

"Just my luck I'd be stuck on a ship with nothing to do," she sighed to herself, flopping back on the bunk. Her thoughts turned to the captain, brow furrowed. When she had pointed out that the ship was too big for one person, he had dismissed it with a shrug as if it hadn't been a big deal; yet he claimed he spent a lot of time fixing it up. Perhaps this was how he kept himself occupied, she thought. If so, it probably meant he was a harder worker than his laid-back attitude would have suggested.

Her eyes wandered around the room, resting on a bedside console. She'd looked through each of the rooms and seen these connected to every bunk in the ship, recognizing them as moderately pricey additions meant to provide crew members with entertainment. Wondering briefly if he'd once had a crew before going solo, she drew the tablet near her and tapped it.

The readout flickered to life immediately settling on a simple file structure connected to the ship's server. Each file was marked clearly: "books," "videos," "games," "e-mail," "music," and so on.

She smirked. Had she anyone to bet with, she would have wagered ten credits that the "books" in his digital library were mostly smut, if the file held anything at all. She tapped the option and opened its most recently-accessed entry.

For a few moments she thought she was reading nonsense, a slew of technical terms she had rarely encountered. It took flipping a few pages back for her to start at the beginning of the current section for her to parse through it and find the necessary context, catching on to references of ancient cultures, mentions of social interactions, and connections to modern society – it seemed to be about the study of archaeological finds on another world.

It raised an eyebrow. Not what she was expecting to find.

She backed out of the option and looked through each title. "Human Expansion: The Spread of Power," "Nal Hutta, Core of Scum and Villlainy," "Rakatan, Zeffonian, Sith: From Great To the Grave." All three seemed to be about history, the last title about dead civilizations.

She read through the next three. "Let's see... Ord Mantell Traveler's Guide, a study book for learning Huttese... and there it is – The Full-Moon Breeder." She rolled her eyes, recognizing it as an adult book just from the title alone. A cursory glance at the next dozen pieces was enough for her to pick out at least two more smutty entries, though the other most recently-accessed pieces involved different topics, including clean fantasy and (surprisingly) a cook book about Trianii cuisine. Two other pieces were also about Trianii literature and history.

"Got a taste for the local flavor?" she guessed, feeling a slight sting of resentment from her earlier interaction with the wolf. "Alright... let's see if you weren't lying when you said you gave a damn about my people and our culture. Let's open the music files."

Every option she tapped had a five-second preview, which started playing through the tab's speakers a little too loudly. Startled, she stopped the preview and spotted a pair of clean adjustable earbuds, hoping it hadn't drawn the captain's interest. Once she'd gotten them in her ears and plugged in, she resumed the playback, recognizing the sound of modern jatz.

It wasn't a new piece, but she shrugged – it was good music at least. The next piece played its preview, a sweeping series of strings she recognized as classical orchestra from the core worlds. Her brow furrowed, noticing that there were several similar pieces that had been accessed dozens of times in the last few months.

"Alright... music seems fine. What about his taste in films?"

She almost immediately broke out laughing when she opened the folder, seeing a handful of selections from the Jedi Action genre; a variety of adventure holos featuring over-the-top, unrealistic narratives that sorely misrepresented the Jedi throughout history. She shook her head and sighed – it probably did a lot to explain his inaccurate perspective of the Jedi.

Deciding it might be better to focus on something else, she tapped the first entry that did not have a recognizable title. The screen went black for a few moments, before flickering back to life with the image of a barely-dressed feline. For a few irritated moments rolled her eyes and reached out to stop the recording, believing she had stumbled upon an erotic film. But when Trianii music started to play she froze, peering at the scene and realizing the female on the screen, while indeed clad in scant amounts of clothing, was a Trianii as well; one that began to move to the music with no shortage of grace and skill, demonstrating years of talent.

It was a dance she knew well, a seasonal cadence to appeal to Ekibo for a bountiful harvest, something Syrra had scene and come to appreciate since she was a cub. She watched at least half of the holo before shaking her head clear and closing out of it, now confused – and for reasons she could not immediately explain, she felt guilty. As the seconds wore on and she processed what it was she had seen, she realized why.

He had been honest. His servers possessed a considerable amount of media that he must have spent his entire life collecting. Whatever else she was expecting that content to be comprised of, it was not classic holofilms and famous symphonic compositions from eras long ago, much less selections from Trianii culture.

Eventually, once she'd had her fill of looking through his content, she sat back in her bunk, silently admitting that the captain might actually be a slightly more cultured individual than she took him for. The recent system perusals suggested that he enjoyed historic accounts and texts, some of them in Trianii script and language; it surprised her greatly that one of the folders he had stored onboard the ship's servers held a collection of Trianii dance ritual performances from before the Clone Wars. She considered that perhaps he had been honest when he suggested earlier in the day that he bore respect for her culture, and now she wondered how long he'd been in the Trianii core worlds to have cultivated such an appreciation.

She cut short the ritual dance file and settled back in bed, her brow furrowed. Despite these new revelations she could still only see him as a lout. One that was better read than most, but the sting of his presence still smarted, a mark on her pride as a former Ranger and a Jedi Padawan. She shook her head and returned her attention to the console with a smirk; that he'd been open enough to admit possessing pornographic content only proved her point.

It took only considering that to pique her curiosity.

Her paw hovered over the folder, hesitant. She took a breath. "C'mon, Syrra. Just take a look. You're above it, but there's no crime in being a little curious." She tapped the folder and opened it. None of the holos had preview images, though a few of them had been accessed as recently as the day before. With no other way to tell what was in the file, she tapped the first option.

The holo started immediately, apparently stuck in the middle of the content, and so she gasped in shock as the first thing she heard was the erotic moaning of a Trianii male as another male thrust his hips into his upturned backside. For a full ten seconds she was stunned to the point of inaction, incapable of doing anything but watching the scene of homosexual coitus between two handsome Trianii men, the pair stifling each other's moans with deep kisses. The kiss broke and the dominant partner stiffened, his breathing getting faster. "O-oh, fuck, I'm gonna cu--"

She didn't allow him to finish, her paw slapping the screen, both closing the holo and knocking the tablet away, leaving it to swing on its mounted arm. Her other paw went to her muzzle as she tried to get her breathing under control, a blush burning her cheeks red from shock and embarrassment. She was not a stranger to erotic content, but like most Trianii, she had never once seen sex between two men. To have stumbled on it without being prepared was somehow both alien and exhilarating. A pang of guilt burned in her breast as she realized the scene had aroused her.

She shook it off, trying to ignore it. Part of her knew she should not be so surprised to have found such content on a non-Trianii ship, but the other part wondered how he was able to access and download such content in Trianii space, where such content was illegal and considered damningly immoral to common interpretation of Trianii religion. But to her, the contents felt almost enticing, such that she reached out and brought the tablet back in front of her, bringing a shaky paw over another selection and tapping it.

This time the video was between another Trianii male and a male from a reptilian species she did not recognize. Both were nude, standing in some field on another world, holding each other close and locked in a passionate kiss that somehow looked genuine, moreso as they looked into each other's eyes and murmured confessions of love to each other. Her ears burned at the admission, but she did not look away, feeling the corners of her muzzle lift as they spoke.

She closed out of it, breathing in and shaking her head clear before selecting the next file. This time it was a Trianii couple, male and female, engaged in oral sex. Syrra swallowed, watching for nearly a minute before backing out again and selecting another.

The next had no Trianii performers, but instead featured a human male and a Twi'lek female, engaged in obvious master/slave roleplay; though what set it apart from the norm was that the male was the slave in this scene. She skipped to the next; a Chistori and Falleen male couple in a hot-springs area, in the middle of passionate anal sex with incredibly lurid shots. And it continued: a Trianii male mounting a Shistavanen female in a bar; a human and Trianii male double-teaming a Trianii female; an avian female with her beak buried in the pussy of a female Mon Calamari.

She closed out of it shortly before the hit their climaxes, and as she shook herself out of a slight haze, she realized the entirety of the folder involved species that were not of his own. She had been thoroughly unprepared to discover that his taste in females and males was so exotic. Now she wondered if the wolf had a mate to speak of – though what woman (or man) could stand him was another matter entirely.

But at least one had to, she realized. The scent she had picked up once she'd moved into the lounge was familiar to her in a way, alien in others, but not so much that she couldn't recognize it for what it was, not after Kajex had shamelessly admitted he'd had a lover on-board recently. Perhaps it didn't bother him so much because he was used to it, but she was certain the one part of the scent he wasn't picking up on was his own. She winced at this silent revelation, her eyes squeezing tight. The very idea that her captain was sexually active in his own ship was uncomfortable to think about.

And as much as she didn't like him, she hated more the fact that this knowledge, coupled with what she knew of his tastes now, was turning her on.

Unbidden images of who the lover was and, even worse, what Kajex might've looked like in the buff, danced in her head as if to torment her. She shivered once she began to feel a flutter between her thighs, cursing herself for such a pitiful weakness- and cursing the captain for contributing to it. Knowing full well it would take hours for that arousal to die down, she cursed silently, slipping out of bed and, after hesitating a few seconds and checking to ensure the crew hatch was locked, began to strip off her Jedi robes.

A sense of relief began to wash over her as she shed each piece of clothing, pulling off the bandaging that held her breasts close against her and sighing contentedly as she left both of them fall, thankful that the ship's air was refreshingly cool. In most cases her people wore very little, only wearing full sets of clothing as a formality, a symbol of status or means of mixing among any conservative, non-Trianii species that might otherwise object to their lack of garment- but she'd grown used to wearing a Trianii Ranger uniform and later her Padawan outfit such that she had forgotten how liberating it was without them. She blinked, regarding both mammary organs with interest, as if seeing them for the first time. In a sense she was, she realized, where it concerned regarding herself sexually. She gave her left breast a gentle grope, fur bristling as she brushed her palm against a slightly tender teat. The sensation not at all unpleasant, prompting a gentle, moaning purr from her lips.

She laid back, continuing to experiment with herself, fingers tracing down her belly and circling around each tertiary nipple- it was not the first time she had explored her own body. All cubs had at some point or another, and she knew all adults of her kind would tend to themselves as well if it became necessary. Yet perhaps it was that she had not done so in years, seemed more taboo (and somehow more exciting) now that she had sworn herself to the path of a Jedi, which made her heart start to race even as she started to revisit herself. It probably also had something to do with the fact that her bust seemed to be larger than she recognized.

Had it really been that long? Had she matured that quickly?

She turned her head to the bed-side console, still connected to Captain Surnahm's entertainment folder as his words from earlier came back to her.

You're welcome to it, I'm serious.

A minute of hesitance kept her still as she considered the offer. Then, carefully, she touched the next option in the folder.

By coincidence, the video started the moment Syrra had slid her paw between her legs, moving aside the rougher tuft of fur that barely hid her slit, shivering as she kept her eyes on the screen. She'd had the foresight to keep the volume low and isolated to a pair of earbuds that she'd tossed aside when she had disrobed minutes earlier, so she could not hear the tinny sounds of active moaning and gasping, the sounds that the actors were making (and faking). It seemed it had started in the middle of a performance between a curvaceous, ebony-skinned human female and a much larger male Cathar, a feline race Syrra recognized. She blushed furiously as the recording panned over his unmistakably feline prick, the brute flaunting his pale pink piece for the holocam by taking it in paw and stroking his flesh repeatedly, fingers squeezing over his soft, barb-like spines. It was much like a Trianii male's, though far larger she realized, feeling searing heat in her face as the realization washed over her and embarrassment followed.

It was almost too much for her to handle, despite having seen the members of three other beings, two of them Trianii. The last, however, caused her to shudder as she recalled it, remembering the beast on Yavin IV with whom she "copulated" with via meditation. Her paw was halfway extended, ready to reach out and cancel progress on the holovid, intent on ending it early and figuring out some other way to reach relief, when the scene shifted. With lust on his features, the Cathar had mounted his busty, dark-skinned lover, drilling his considerable length into her gash and eliciting a moan that was audible even with the Trianii's earbuds still on the floor.

She whimpered as she watched the two engage in coitus, half-aware that her paw was matching their pace and drawing a lot of nectar from her own cleft. Erotic scenes in Trianii culture was more spiritual and intimate, depicted as artful and deeply personal- what she was watching was raw, meant to be exotic and more devoted toward seeking the apex of pure pleasure, though it was no less intimate. The two lovers (or rather, Syrra thought dimly, actors pretending to be lovers) drew their hips together and apart from a side angle, the human's legs hooked around her breeder's waist, flexing powerfully to pull herself into his groin. Syrra could not help but imagine how deep that prick must have been buried in her.

A moment later she realized her imagination was lacking, as the holocam switched angles and floated to a rear angle, giving her an unrestricted view of everything she was imagining, and things she hadn't bothered to consider while she did so. His girth was impressive enough that the human's netherlips were splayed to each side, squeezing his throbbing maleness as he buried himself to sheath; each thrust battered her inner thighs with enough force to cause his balls to bounce against her backside, the female's buttocks wobbling slightly with each brutal beat. His tail was flagged up, exposing his untouched pucker, set in the middle of his bodybuilder-grade butt, his gluteal muscles flexing with each powered stroke.

The scene lasted longer than Syrra thought it would, but she could tell the scene was coming to a close the moment the human starting writhing beneath her Cathar hunk, raking her painted nails down her back and screaming as she faked her orgasm. The Cathar took as his cue to withdraw his prick, forcing the human's head down to the floor as she aided him, squeezing his large balls as stroked himself again. With a lust-glazed expression, the female's mouth opened just as he ejaculated, thick streams of spunk shooting from his tapered tip and splattering against her face, a roar now audible from the earbuds below.

Syrra moaned far louder than she meant to and gasped, covering her mouth with the paw that only moments ago had been pinching her own nipples. She winced, fearing the sound might have carried even with the crew-quarter's hatch closed and locked, and quickly closed out of the recording, panting for air and shivering violently.

At no point had she pulled the covers over her, and so the cool air around her now seemed absolutely freezing, such that she remained still and basked in her own elevated body heat, wiping her eyes. She calmed herself down, pushing the bedside-console away from her, deciding not to rely on it for the remainder of her own personal session.

Then she heard a groan.

She froze, her heart seeming to have leapt into her throat at the sound. For a moment, she wondered if another recording had started automatically, but the screen only showed the folder's basic contents and file names. Silence lingered as she held still, straining to hear any other sounds.

Another groan. The pleasure in the male voice was unmistakable.

She blushed, petrified at what she was hearing. Kajex had decided to have a 'session' of his own.

With a curse to the stars above for her circumstances she grit her teeth, as even now the thought of the ship's captain getting off to whatever perversion was in his head was enticing Syrra. A grimace painted her features as she watched her paw move back between her thighs once again as if on it's own accord. But then a thought occurred to her – perhaps, in focusing through the Force, she might be able to see what was happening.

It took only a moment for her to shake her head and admonish herself, feeling her arousal cool down, the heat in her loins no longer present. Her face fell, and she found herself disgusted with herself.

Whatever other shortcomings she might have had, she found herself ashamed more than she ever had at any of her actions sicne she had arrived. To have considered prying into the mind of another sentient. Not even someone as crude and boorish as the captain deserved to have the privacy of his mind violated.

He moaned a third time.

All her self-criticism disappeared, arousal racing back through her body as she fell into a minor trance. With the noise he was making, the fact that he was pleasuring himself was no secret, and so she felt little violation of privacy in that regard.

She just wanted to see. To know. She had wondered earlier, and now despite her irritation with the mercenary it occurred to her that she had the means to satisfy her curiosity. What did he look like?

The scene came to her rapidly, and the first thing she noticed was the wolf reclining in his brand new chair, set next to his bed. He seemed to have paused for a moment, slowing his gentle strokes and shivering slightly, eyes half-closed and giving him a sort of glazed look. He readjusted himself and Syrra was able to get a significant view of his nude form. It was nothing short of exotically attractive, enough so that she marveled at the sight.

His pelt was less rough that she had imagined it, better groomed than his normal clothing. She could see the golden-brown band that streaked across his eyes and the top of his muzzle. Though not nearly as built and towering as the Cathar erotic actor, nor as lithe and limber as a male of her own race, she saw his form as a perfect blend of the two- toned, but not bulky; slightly tall, but not gangling; possessed of humanoid hands not unlike large paws that looked strong, yet agile and gentle. It was these paws that obstructed her view to his member- until he reclined in his seat again, hands resting to either side briefly as he sought to catch his breath.

She nearly pulled herself out of her trance when he sat back, allowing his cock to stand on its own. /there was no mistaking the shape she was seeing was the exact same she had sensed, had felt when she had been mentally ravished by the Brush Canid back on Yavin IV, an event that seemed as if it had occurred years ago instead of just a few weeks. She had sensed a veiny, red malehood, perhaps six inches long, from the beast she had copulated with. Kajex's was at least a full ten, easily outstripping both Trianii and Cathar, nearly as black as the void, a stark contrast to the light shade of his sheath, below which hung an equally impressive set of balls. She shivered physically as his paw returned to his cock, returning to his personal session as if he had no audience, head leaning off to the side as he rolled his hips up into his paw, trying to simulate coitus.

A whimper forced its way past her lips again as she began masturbating furiously to the sight of the captain pumping his prick, dimly aware that she was no longer looking at a lout, a beast, a greedy mercenary or a swine; but a sentient, available, attractive male.

No longer was she aware that it was her own fingers jamming themselves up into her cleft, trying to find a spot to graze that would bring her further ecstasy. Face red and eyes glazed, she was imagining now that Kajex was above her, plunging that tool into her depths; a shock of bliss zapped her nerves for a split second and the scene changed, the wolf's paw now placed on the back of her rump as she rode his prick; another jolt and she was seeing Kajex again as he was in reality, his strokes getting faster and his breathing becoming more desperate. She heard him groan once again and she moaned silently with him, biting down on her free paw's knuckle to stifle the noise. He was close now, she could feel the mounting pleasure radiating from him, could see his considerable knot throbbing beneath his paw.

He covered his muzzle, keeping himself from vocalizing audibly as he arched his back, thrusting up into his paw and squeezing hard on his knot, as milky ropes of seed shot from is cocktip, with a volume and distance Syrra had not been prepared for, several strings of ejaculate arcing high and splattering against the cool deck several feet away.

This was the final straw the destroyed the dam holding back Syrra's pleasure, and she shook violently, silently, as orgasm overtook her, the Trianii letting out a blissful feline chirp. She had never experienced the act of feminine spraying until this moment- she could only describe it as electric bliss in her loins, manifesting in a pool of nectar that soaked the base of her tail as her muscles tensed, followed by at least a full minute of quiet mewling and shuddering, a gentle purr rumbling throughout her as her muscles completely uncoiled.

The last thing she could perceive as she faded out of her trance and back into her own senses was the wolf staring off into the distance intently, as if noticing for the first time something was amiss.

The scene faded, and she awoke.

Little by little, coherent thoughts began to form in Syrra's head, the first among them What the fuck did I just do? followed closely by I can't believe I just did that! A part of her was more than a little angry with herself for having once again succumbed to her own physical desires, that same part raged at her for not just fantasizing, but outright engaging in Force-based voyeurism on a male she seemed to be unable to stand.

Other parts, however, consisted of curiosity, satisfaction and thrill for what she had done. It was like a perversion of her experiences with the Force; completely foreign to her at times, yet swiftly becoming something she wished to be adept at, though a key difference was she wouldn't dare admit this to anyone else but herself.

She drew her paw away from her gash, using the other to wipe her face of sweat and tears and sitting up in her bunk, her fur bristling. She had expected to feel hollow after doing this, but she wasn't. If anything she felt better, calmer and more at peace. She smiled wryly to herself, wondering if she'd found a not-very-acceptable way of keeping her temper in check. A slight twinge of fear ran through her, though, unsure if the captain would be capable of noticing her scent should he walk in, but she'd deal with that later, if at all. Groaning more out of exhaustion than frustration, she resolved to sleep off this event and try to pretend it never happened.

She slid out of her bunk, eyeing her clothing and preparing to slip them back on before turning in – and then consciously chose not to, still feeling more comfortable out of her gear than before. She quickly gathered her Jedi outfit and boots, moving to the other side of the crew quarters and tossing the contents on the lower bunk, then, still nude, hefted herself up onto the bunk above it, getting under the warm sheets and comforter and settling in, whimpering slightly as she tried to get some rest.

This was undoubtedly going to be very a long journey.