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#the space between the haul and the tank is called the void and i think about whatd it be like to sit in their and listen
mochrincrunch · 1 year
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ships (boats) are body horror and their intimacy with the ocean instills in me great unease
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lordshaxxion · 5 years
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Breathtaking
Cidrex/Drifter because I can
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It was chilly onboard the Derelict as Cidrex wandered, but he didn’t mind. If anything, it was a welcome change having been in bed with a known Solar Lightbearer. The Hunter was sure he’d no doubt lost a couple pounds from sweating alone, never mind the multiple rounds the two of them had gone for, so to wander the Derelict and feel the chill bite at his bones was more than welcome for him.
Drifter was almost unusually guarded, but when Cidrex recalled the visions the Nine had been forcing upon him it made sense as he carefully worked his way around tripmines and traps that littered the Derelict’s hallways. All he was wearing was one of Drifter’s dark green shirts and his own boxers, otherwise barefoot as he wandered idly. Cidrex hadn’t really been allowed to explore much and he knew that there was much more to the ship than most Guardians had been allowed to see. But even with his trusted status at Drifter’s side (and in his bed), he’d not been granted express permission to explore further than what was available. The only reason he was making such progress in his explorations now was because Drifter was still fast asleep, all his energy exhausted from railing the Hunter into the shitty camp bed mattress.
Cidrex hadn’t been paying all too much attention to where he’d been going, too busy idly thinking about Drifter’s paranoia and the lengths the guy had gone to in order to secure the safety of the rest of his ship. The narrow maintenance hallway he’d been climbing through opened up into a much larger room, something that looked like the cockpit of the whole ship or the command deck or whatever it was called - Cidrex didn’t care, the room was massive. There was no dust, or at least very little, and the freaky alien flora from the Haul hadn’t spread this far through the ship either. It wasn’t as cold as the rest of the ship too, Cidrex noticed as he wandered through and examined the consoles. They’d been used recently, which told him that Drifter still used this section of the ship at the very least.
Then he looked up and saw the massive circular window that gazed out into the void of space. He moved past the beeping consoles, ignoring the flickering lights of switches and the urge to push them, and pulled himself up to the ledge the window was embedded in. It was at least a metre wide, more than enough for a person to sit in, and that is where Cidrex made his home to watch the stars. The sight itself took his breath away, leaning back gently against the curve of the frame and resting on his side with one arm tucked under his head for comfort. Green eyes tracked stars and drew mental patterns between each one, watching dust clouds drift through the dark expanse before him. He guessed that the window itself wasn’t more than a few feet thick (he was no engineer or shipwright, he left that knowledge with Holliday), and as he pressed a hand to the window he breathed softly.
This sheet of glass was all that stood between him and the cold nothing of space. It was breathtaking.
Void Light pooled in his fingertips, almost in response to the sight of the universe on the other side of the window, and Cidrex traced little patterns along the glass idly. Often he had wondered what it would be like to just disappear into the backdrop of the universe, to be folded away into its quiet embrace and no longer worry about much else. He supposed those types of thoughts came with being a Void user. Regardless, it was peaceful if nothing else and almost lulled him back to some semblance of sleep.
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“Where is he?” Drifter grumbled. He’d woken to the absence of the strange warmth that was usual leeched to his side, sitting up to find Cidrex gone and a draft settling in to the little bunker. His Ghost didn’t answer and Drifter rolled his eyes, not knowing what else he should have expected. Cidrex’s Ghost wasn’t responding either to his pings, which was almost unusual given Sox’s protectiveness over his Guardian. The Lightbearer groaned and got up, shrugging on his duster and at least the pair of slippers he’d been given a while back, having the decency to pull a pair of boxers on and a tank top as well before he trudged out to find the Hunter.
Slippery bastard, he could be anywhere on the Derelict and without Drifter’s knowledge too - that in itself was enough to set off his paranoia, even with how much he’d begun to trust the guy. He’d hoped he would’ve heard some of his traps go off by now if Cidrex had wandered into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but then again he was a Hunter and Hunters were known for being able to get past near enough any deterrent put in their way.
Drifter shook his head a little as he started walking, soon sensing wisps of Void Light leaving the bunker in a particular direction. It lead away from the launch pads the Gambit teams would use, away from the makeshift living room area and kitchen, and it made Drifter’s skin buzz. Ever since the Nine had been giving him visions, he’d developed a keen sense on detecting the Light of certain Guardians. Cidrex sat at the top of that list and Drifter’s sense was keener on his Light than anyone else’s, able to pick up on the slightest hint of the Hunter’s Void in his vicinity. It was an alluring trail that lead him through the Derelict, the Lightbearer inwardly cursing at how easily the Hunter had bypassed his traps and security measures and equally finding himself impressed. Every so often the Drifter would catch hints of purple wisps in the corner of his vision, those alone confirming he was on the right trail in the very least.
He wasn’t happy to realise that the wisps were leading him deeper into the Derelict and towards the command deck, and when he entered sure enough he saw Cidrex lounging against the window. He went to call to him and then hesitated instead, noticing just how relaxed the Hunter looked up there. Cidrex could be jumpy sometimes, especially when he was by himself and lost in his thoughts. Instead, Drifter moved to a console and dimmed the lights down slowly. Cidrex shifted a little but didn’t roll over to see Drifter there, he could sense the mingle of the other’s Light and instead continued to gaze out upon the stars that drifted past them as the Derelict moved slowly to its next location.
A colourful dust and gas cloud wandered idly by the great window, the glow from the Derelict lighting it up and casting great arcs of blues and greens around the ship. Drifter watched the colours dance across Cidrex’s bared skin and for a moment wondered how many times he’d end up catching the Hunter up here. He surprised himself with the realization that he wouldn’t mind catching him up here so many times as long as he’d be treated to such a pretty sight. A soft, content sigh left the rogue Lightbearer as he kicked back in one of the chairs and watched the stars and clouds go by. He’d ask Cidrex later if he wanted any takeout when they arrived at the Tower, but for now he was surprisingly content to enjoy the sightseeing and the silence.
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radioactivepeasant · 7 years
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Dispatches from the Days In-Between
An “Imperial Problem Child” story
The broadcasts, surprisingly, had been Madine’s idea in the end.
The council had been small, only for those with high enough clearance, and normally Skywalker wouldn’t have been included, but recent galactic events had been...odd, to say the least. The question of the hour was how to proceed with Operation Yellow Moon when the Rebellion was under increased scrutiny. (The reporters that showed up on inhabited worlds to mob Skywalker didn’t help either. It was still manageable at this point, as not everyone in the whole galaxy knew what the poor kid looked like, but Madine had his suspicions that one day it might get to the point where the boy started contemplating wearing a mask like his infamous sire.)
And there was another issue. Having Luke along on operations where Vader was likely to be present put the entire mission in jeopardy. Not because they were afraid Luke would betray them. He’d already managed to “steal” several Imperials for the Alliance, to Vader’s great annoyance, and no one in High Command doubted his commitment anymore. (though Madine couldn’t speak for the average Rebel-on-the-street, of course). The problem was that Vader would simply “sense” his son somehow and know right where they were. Hence the discussion of what to do with Luke during the operation.
“All eyes tend to be on our young prince here,” Madine had mused, waving in a mock reverential way to Luke, who responded with a good-natured grimace, “So why not exploit that? Send the Commander in the complete opposite direction and have him make a few large distractions while we’re in the early stages.”
“Won’t that seem rather obvious as a diversion?” someone asked.
Leia nodded eagerly, already tracking with Madine. “Precisely. What better way to make the Empire think we’re up to something important than to draw their attention to the fact that we’re staging a diversion? Besides, with Vader busy trying to retrieve Luke-”
“-Who intends to do some very stupid things to get his attention, if you’ll allow him to,” Luke piped up with a glint in his eye.
Leia shot him a look, then continued, “-with Vader busy, he won’t be tracking us. Therefore he won’t be able to sense the deception on our part, and we’ll be dealing with more predictable enemies.” She sat back, a satisfied look on her face.
“Commander Skywalker,” Mon Mothma said uneasily, “Exactly what did you have in mind?”
This was where Madine had remembered that during the Clone Wars there had been a Jedi -- he couldn’t remember her name now, only that she was a Mon Cala who was rather more pacifistic than most of her comrades -- who used to make small educational broadcasts directed at the children of the Republic. Little, humorous things like “well Separatists decided my medical frigate looked like a very nice target, and now we’re on fire.  But that reminds me, do you know how fire extinguishers were invented? No? Because I’m about to tell you!”
“You’re pretty good with mechanics and improvising things on the fly, Commander,” Madine pointed out after bringing up the memory, “I daresay something like that will get attention if you’re off who-knows-where actively engaging the public.”
“That is not without its merits,” Mothma mused. “Especially considering that, if Vader’s alliance of convenience comes to its expected end, you may have more political power than you thought. This may be the best opportunity to sway the public to a different way of thinking. Engage in relief efforts, volunteer, help with education. Things of that nature.”
“Everything I had to do growing up,” Leia teased with a bittersweet smile.
And that had been the beginning of it.
The dispatches started small, “To introduce the characters,” Hobbie had insisted. The first had come from the Executor itself, and was meant for Alliance eyes, mostly, though if it “leaked out”, oh well.
It was simply Wedge Antilles bracing a door with his back, listening to muffled yelling coming from behind it. “Janson and Klivian and a couple Imp pilots have been at each other’s throats for a week now,” he said, “The rest of us were at serious risk of getting caught in the crossfire of a prank war. And since Fel tells me that Hunter and Janni are as bad about escalation as Janson, sooner or later someone is going to report it to Veers or Rieekan and literally no one wants that.”  He grinned and gestured to the door. “So we locked them in the laundry room until they resolve their issues. We’re gonna be here awhile.”
Four days later, the first “real” broadcast came from a Mid-Rim world in the midst of a devastating series of storms. Most of it was a call for awareness and aid from those available to help, then it switched over to three men standing knee deep in mud, about to haul someone’s generator up and onto a waiting anti-grav sled. Zev Senesca looked tired, and Lando Calrissian looked comically miserable. Luke looked like he was running on caffeine and bad ideas. “Hey everybody,” Luke waved, grinning. “I’m Luke Skywalker, and today we’re going to show you how simple machines work. Because the mud got into our equipment and this is the only way we’re getting this generator out. So, y’know, keep this stuff in mind in case you’re ever, I dunno, stranded in a swamp or something.” “Not that that’s ever happened to you,” Lando snorted, rolling up his sleeves. Luke ignored this and held up a cable, part of a pulley system, and a roll of space-tape. “Okay! Ready?” “As always,” Lando cut in with a charming smile for the holorecorder, “Do not attempt any of this without adult supervision. Responsible adult supervision.”
The third broadcast happened close to three weeks later, coming from coordinates near the Outer Rim, not far from the Honoghr system. This time it was footage from a handheld holorecorder of two rebels (Luke and Wes) and two Imperials (Hunter and Lt. Sunber). “Hey everybody, I’m Luke,” “I’m Janson,” “I’m Hunter,” “And I’m tired!” Tank finished with a sigh. “And we....are totally lost.” Luke shrugged and looked completely unrepentant. “Turns out, something about whatever planet we’re orbiting right now is messing up all our instruments, so we’re going to have to land this thing the old-fashioned way. And since I was never taught how to fix a Lambda shuttle that’s gone into a factory reset-” “Remember, stay in school, kids!” Hunter interrupted jokingly. “-We’re going to hack this thing,” Luke finished. “Which miiiight mean some warranties are getting voided today.” He grinned up at the holorecorder. “As always, don’t try this without adult supervision. And if any other Imperials pick this up....don’t tell my father.”
Of course, he was banking on them doing exactly that. And if some of his “leaked dispatches” ended up on shows like “Last Word from Coruscant” and “Weekly Quibbler”,  well, that was more attention on some of the social issues in the Empire. Which, of course, had been Mon Mothma’s hope in the first place. And a very reliable source -- who had to pretend he was not amused in the slightest by his son’s antics -- had insinuated that the broadcasts were becoming quite a headache for the reigning tyrant, and that just made everything better.
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