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Blackbirds: Year One | Preview
Jan. 30th, 2019 02:23 pm“Even if it’s only for two days, I’ll take it.”
Misty’s eyes were locked on the expanse of water in front of them; out beyond the reef, combers rolled in, and the sand in front of them was unmarked and quiet. The water coming in rolled up and back, darkening it before it paled again swiftly.
It had taken three weeks, in the end, to get them here; within that three weeks, there had been their retrieval of the Wolf Pack's informant, Tango gaining the last two parts needed to make his Delta-6 flightworthy and safe, a squad-wide case of the pan-galactic flu (which Shiv and party accidentally brought back from their mission to Nar Shaddaa), one mission to a separatist listening post that ended up with Maul falling through lake ice and frost-burning one of his hands, which upon completion led to some High Command intelligence regarding Felucia, and only now was Misty getting the chance to go swimming that he'd been promised.
Maul had not forgotten Misty's desire to do so, and besides that, what downtime the squad had gotten thus far had all been snatched en route to another assignment, or when they were recovering from illness or injury. The last real break they'd had was on Radnor, in terms of actual leave to rest, and when Maul realized that and put together how long ago that really was, relatively speaking, he'd hoped for a chance to do something about it. Especially since that had only been a couple of days. Before that, it had been a similarly short period on Corellia.
So, when it turned out they had managed to dodge yet another assignment right on the heels of the last -- presumably because of what was going to happen with Felucia -- he had searched for the nearest world that had vacation rentals that could be acquired with clandestine credits won in games of chance either on the HoloNet (by Brody) or from the unsuspecting members of the Wolf Pack (by Tally), or pulled from the account attached to an unmarked credit chip (from Bail), or left over from their mission to Llanic (dispensed by Croft). Between those four sources, they had enough for two days here and that left them enough time to meet the Negotiator, which would hopefully be finished with the current engagement by then, and transfer Rabbit so that he could get to his AIT assignment on one of the fast transports dedicated to troop movements.
Omereth was one that had suffered for the war, in terms of economic losses; out beyond Hutt Space, not quite to the Centrality, it was a shining ocean world with a warm sun and a number of archipelagos, and were it anywhere else, it might have become the vacation destination that it attempted to boast itself as on the HoloNet. But since it had no strategic value -- even the HoloNet connections were at best spotty out here, at worst nonexistent -- it was left alone by both sides of the conflict. A handful of companies owned chains of islands; beyond them, there were some small colonies of people who had found their way there, subsisting on tropical vegetation, seafood and the rare shipment.
Omereth was not lacking in marine life, certainly; within minutes of settling the Nest down on the landing platform almost too small for it, a pod of some fairly large, leaping animals out at sea had made Misty gasp and abandon the ramp to run out to the beach and get a closer look. He had watched them until they were too small to see, even after the rest of the squad disembarked to walk to their rentals.
The resort wasn’t high end, the cabins were small and had no technology to speak of, not even a comm system, but it was within their budget and it was deserted aside from them.
All in all, the smell and feel of it reminded Maul very much of Iloh. There was considerably less vegetation, and the island they were parked on was smaller than the one he and Obi-Wan had visited so long ago, but the smell of the sea and the hush of the water rolling in was just the same.
Now, Misty was already stripped down to his swim shorts from Corellia and bouncing up on the balls of his feet, eyes locked on the water. "This is going to feel so good."
“Count me out,” Brody joked, stretching with his arms over his head, a datapad in one hand. “I make it a point to be the biggest predator of any food chain I step into for recreation.”
“Am I the only one who bothered to change on the Nest?” Misty asked, frowning and looking around for the rest of the Blackbirds, who had all disappeared into their cabins.
Raze was the one who answered that; he barreled seemingly out of nowhere, stark naked, running into the water with a wild battle cry. He was followed in rapid succession by Rabbit and Rancor, both of whom echoed their ‘commander’ as they streaked – literally – into the lagoon.
In less rapid succession, the rest followed; Shiv, Tally, Husker, Castle, even Smarty. Though they, at least, had worn their trunks.
“Guess so,” Misty said, laughing. He was just about to head in when he noticed Tango hanging back in the doorway of the cabin in his shorts, chewing on his bottom lip, then went and over and talked to the pilot; Maul didn’t hear what they said, but after a moment, whatever Misty had told Tango was apparently enough to unstick his feet, though he was still blushing furiously. Something about research for a story.
Misty shrugged, when Maul looked at him in query, on the way towards the water. “He’s shy. Kind of.”
Maul shrugged back; he didn’t know what Tango could by shy about, since three of his brothers were naked and the others were similarly attired to him, but it was good of Misty to talk him through it.
He had no desire to go into the water himself; after Tango finally joined his brothers, he looked around and caught sight of a ragged but servicable hammock hanging in a limited little stand of trees, right about the same time Brody did.
They eyed each other, both of them tensing, and then like an invisible shot was fired, they both bolted for the hammock, trying to race one another to it. The slipping sand made it a precarious race, but it ended up being a tie anyway, and then they were scuffling for it.
(It was a strange, new thing, to scuffle for the fun of it; to not take openings to score hits because pain wasn’t the point of it and would, in fact, destroy said point completely.)
In the end, Maul threw the not-fight, and when Brody crowed triumphantly and got into his hammock with his datapad, Maul just grinned tongue-in-cheek, got up, dusted himself off and found a tree to lean against himself, watching Misty free-diving and the rest of the Blackbirds swimming and playing in the water.
Regardless of everything else going on right now, either out in the galaxy or inside of his own head, the sight of them made Maul happy.
To the very end of his days, he would remember this as before; for all of the watershed moments of his life, for all of the things he survived, for all of the things which left marks on him for good or for ill, it would be this one that would always be known only as before.
And to the very end of them, he would be able to trace the internal scars that drew the lines between before and after.
Misty’s eyes were locked on the expanse of water in front of them; out beyond the reef, combers rolled in, and the sand in front of them was unmarked and quiet. The water coming in rolled up and back, darkening it before it paled again swiftly.
It had taken three weeks, in the end, to get them here; within that three weeks, there had been their retrieval of the Wolf Pack's informant, Tango gaining the last two parts needed to make his Delta-6 flightworthy and safe, a squad-wide case of the pan-galactic flu (which Shiv and party accidentally brought back from their mission to Nar Shaddaa), one mission to a separatist listening post that ended up with Maul falling through lake ice and frost-burning one of his hands, which upon completion led to some High Command intelligence regarding Felucia, and only now was Misty getting the chance to go swimming that he'd been promised.
Maul had not forgotten Misty's desire to do so, and besides that, what downtime the squad had gotten thus far had all been snatched en route to another assignment, or when they were recovering from illness or injury. The last real break they'd had was on Radnor, in terms of actual leave to rest, and when Maul realized that and put together how long ago that really was, relatively speaking, he'd hoped for a chance to do something about it. Especially since that had only been a couple of days. Before that, it had been a similarly short period on Corellia.
So, when it turned out they had managed to dodge yet another assignment right on the heels of the last -- presumably because of what was going to happen with Felucia -- he had searched for the nearest world that had vacation rentals that could be acquired with clandestine credits won in games of chance either on the HoloNet (by Brody) or from the unsuspecting members of the Wolf Pack (by Tally), or pulled from the account attached to an unmarked credit chip (from Bail), or left over from their mission to Llanic (dispensed by Croft). Between those four sources, they had enough for two days here and that left them enough time to meet the Negotiator, which would hopefully be finished with the current engagement by then, and transfer Rabbit so that he could get to his AIT assignment on one of the fast transports dedicated to troop movements.
Omereth was one that had suffered for the war, in terms of economic losses; out beyond Hutt Space, not quite to the Centrality, it was a shining ocean world with a warm sun and a number of archipelagos, and were it anywhere else, it might have become the vacation destination that it attempted to boast itself as on the HoloNet. But since it had no strategic value -- even the HoloNet connections were at best spotty out here, at worst nonexistent -- it was left alone by both sides of the conflict. A handful of companies owned chains of islands; beyond them, there were some small colonies of people who had found their way there, subsisting on tropical vegetation, seafood and the rare shipment.
Omereth was not lacking in marine life, certainly; within minutes of settling the Nest down on the landing platform almost too small for it, a pod of some fairly large, leaping animals out at sea had made Misty gasp and abandon the ramp to run out to the beach and get a closer look. He had watched them until they were too small to see, even after the rest of the squad disembarked to walk to their rentals.
The resort wasn’t high end, the cabins were small and had no technology to speak of, not even a comm system, but it was within their budget and it was deserted aside from them.
All in all, the smell and feel of it reminded Maul very much of Iloh. There was considerably less vegetation, and the island they were parked on was smaller than the one he and Obi-Wan had visited so long ago, but the smell of the sea and the hush of the water rolling in was just the same.
Now, Misty was already stripped down to his swim shorts from Corellia and bouncing up on the balls of his feet, eyes locked on the water. "This is going to feel so good."
“Count me out,” Brody joked, stretching with his arms over his head, a datapad in one hand. “I make it a point to be the biggest predator of any food chain I step into for recreation.”
“Am I the only one who bothered to change on the Nest?” Misty asked, frowning and looking around for the rest of the Blackbirds, who had all disappeared into their cabins.
Raze was the one who answered that; he barreled seemingly out of nowhere, stark naked, running into the water with a wild battle cry. He was followed in rapid succession by Rabbit and Rancor, both of whom echoed their ‘commander’ as they streaked – literally – into the lagoon.
In less rapid succession, the rest followed; Shiv, Tally, Husker, Castle, even Smarty. Though they, at least, had worn their trunks.
“Guess so,” Misty said, laughing. He was just about to head in when he noticed Tango hanging back in the doorway of the cabin in his shorts, chewing on his bottom lip, then went and over and talked to the pilot; Maul didn’t hear what they said, but after a moment, whatever Misty had told Tango was apparently enough to unstick his feet, though he was still blushing furiously. Something about research for a story.
Misty shrugged, when Maul looked at him in query, on the way towards the water. “He’s shy. Kind of.”
Maul shrugged back; he didn’t know what Tango could by shy about, since three of his brothers were naked and the others were similarly attired to him, but it was good of Misty to talk him through it.
He had no desire to go into the water himself; after Tango finally joined his brothers, he looked around and caught sight of a ragged but servicable hammock hanging in a limited little stand of trees, right about the same time Brody did.
They eyed each other, both of them tensing, and then like an invisible shot was fired, they both bolted for the hammock, trying to race one another to it. The slipping sand made it a precarious race, but it ended up being a tie anyway, and then they were scuffling for it.
(It was a strange, new thing, to scuffle for the fun of it; to not take openings to score hits because pain wasn’t the point of it and would, in fact, destroy said point completely.)
In the end, Maul threw the not-fight, and when Brody crowed triumphantly and got into his hammock with his datapad, Maul just grinned tongue-in-cheek, got up, dusted himself off and found a tree to lean against himself, watching Misty free-diving and the rest of the Blackbirds swimming and playing in the water.
Regardless of everything else going on right now, either out in the galaxy or inside of his own head, the sight of them made Maul happy.
To the very end of his days, he would remember this as before; for all of the watershed moments of his life, for all of the things he survived, for all of the things which left marks on him for good or for ill, it would be this one that would always be known only as before.
And to the very end of them, he would be able to trace the internal scars that drew the lines between before and after.
“Look, if you’re just doing this to be edgy and cool, I’ve got more'n enough of that with my brothers and CO,” Brody tried, eyes closed because he was tired of straining them against the burlap bag over his head. “Is this drama really necessary?”
“Yep,” the nautolan answered, tossing the word out with dismissive casualness.
Brody had spent the past two kriffin’ hours blindfolded. Eogan had made it back to awareness about an hour ago, groaning and then puking his guts up, which meant they dragged him off somewhere else. Brody hadn’t liked that and regardless of his new headgear, he’d tried to put up a fight, hollering and squirming and kicking even with the cuffs he was wearing, but then the hand of his unknown brother had pushed him down in some chair. "They’re just taking him to our medic, relax."
No word since then, though, which wasn’t helping Brody feel any better.
It didn’t seem like anyone was out to hurt them, or even really intimidate them, despite all this; if that were the case, Brody expected he would have maybe been thrown into some dank, ugly cell, or strapped to a chair with a bare lightbar above him, or something like that. Instead, even with the burlap over his face, he could smell brewing caf and hear the movements of people – three or four – and occasional quiet snippets of conversation.
"What if I have to take a leak?" he asked, as much to get an answer as anything else.
"I think you can hold it a bit longer," the nautolan said, laconically.
Brody sighed out; he didn’t actually have to go, and that was the very oldest trick in the very oldest holodrama, but it was worth a shot. "Okay, but this is kriffin’ stupid. Clearly you’re holding all the cards right now, so why the hell am I still trussed up like a root ball in transit?"
"'Cause GAR barcodes have changed since your brother deserted, so it’s taking me time to break it down and update our information. But I’ve almost got it. Then we can talk."
--frip. Brody didn’t like the sound of that. Despite his confidence in his own ability to wiggle, worm or wrestle his way out of tight spots – he was the only clone in the Blackbirds who’d been in the Crimson Corridor! – someone being able to crack the information on his barcode and presumably use it to access his service file made his spine freeze.
Something about his posture must have shown that, too; a hand landed between his neck and shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, and even though Brody didn’t mean to, he flinched.
“Yep,” the nautolan answered, tossing the word out with dismissive casualness.
Brody had spent the past two kriffin’ hours blindfolded. Eogan had made it back to awareness about an hour ago, groaning and then puking his guts up, which meant they dragged him off somewhere else. Brody hadn’t liked that and regardless of his new headgear, he’d tried to put up a fight, hollering and squirming and kicking even with the cuffs he was wearing, but then the hand of his unknown brother had pushed him down in some chair. "They’re just taking him to our medic, relax."
No word since then, though, which wasn’t helping Brody feel any better.
It didn’t seem like anyone was out to hurt them, or even really intimidate them, despite all this; if that were the case, Brody expected he would have maybe been thrown into some dank, ugly cell, or strapped to a chair with a bare lightbar above him, or something like that. Instead, even with the burlap over his face, he could smell brewing caf and hear the movements of people – three or four – and occasional quiet snippets of conversation.
"What if I have to take a leak?" he asked, as much to get an answer as anything else.
"I think you can hold it a bit longer," the nautolan said, laconically.
Brody sighed out; he didn’t actually have to go, and that was the very oldest trick in the very oldest holodrama, but it was worth a shot. "Okay, but this is kriffin’ stupid. Clearly you’re holding all the cards right now, so why the hell am I still trussed up like a root ball in transit?"
"'Cause GAR barcodes have changed since your brother deserted, so it’s taking me time to break it down and update our information. But I’ve almost got it. Then we can talk."
--frip. Brody didn’t like the sound of that. Despite his confidence in his own ability to wiggle, worm or wrestle his way out of tight spots – he was the only clone in the Blackbirds who’d been in the Crimson Corridor! – someone being able to crack the information on his barcode and presumably use it to access his service file made his spine freeze.
Something about his posture must have shown that, too; a hand landed between his neck and shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, and even though Brody didn’t mean to, he flinched.
The Blackbirds
Dec. 8th, 2018 12:38 amSince I haven't posted them here yet, here are all the armor studies I did of the Blackbirds, under the cut. XD These took forever. But I really like how they came out.
( Lookit these handsome guys! )
( Lookit these handsome guys! )
Things are hella slow with all the site moving, etc. But here's a preview from the next chapter of Blackbirds: Year One.
"Okay, so tell me, who's this-- Prawn Krell?"
"Okay, so tell me, who's this-- Prawn Krell?"
Brody almost snorted the fancy caf-drink up his nose, when Eogan laid that one on him. He set his cup aside and coughed into his sleeve, before descending into helpless laughter, all the while unwittingly attracting the curious glances of everyone around them, all of whom were probably wondering what could possibly be funny about anything on Llanic.
Right now, they were sitting in a quasi-reputable Starshines, one of the few franchises that was brave enough to try to open places on Llanic, which had been a shadowport for as long as anyone could remember. The only other one willing to take their chances was Biscuit Baron; Brody had gotten one look at the local one, its sad state and the number of spice addicts chowing down on biscuits outside and decided the cafshop might be the better option for their objective. Which was, essentially, to look like nobody of import, because nobody of import wanted to look like they were while on Llanic.
After a few more coughs (and stray giggles), Brody shook his head, dropping his voice again. "Not Prawn Krell. Pong Krell. He's a jedi general famous for two things: his ability to achieve almost any objective and win almost any battle, and his extraordinarily high body count as he does it."
Eogan was watching his face, eyes pinched some as he took that in. "You mean, high body count on your side."
The urge to laugh bled away, and Brody scratched his beard before nodding. "Yeah. I mean, my brothers. But since he's so effective, they just keep sending him more and more clones, usually younger and younger. Rabbit and Rancor woulda been going to him, if not for General Kenobi."
