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| - Depot -- New Alderaan: Ord Mantell The Ord Mantell supply depot is sandwiched between the back end of the planet's New Republic Military compound, and the range of tall hills that surround New Alderaan. Central to the depot is an expansive landing pad, surrounded on all sides by supply warehouses of every kind, and a repair garage for ground and air machines. Built into the closest hills themselves are the starship hangars and repair facilities. The size of the hangars and repair bays, from outside, is misleading. They are a multi-level operation built into the ground, and fully equipped with a series of cranes and elevators meant to transport starships from storage and repair levels. A broad roadway leads away from the military compound, heading east toward a broad, open field. The sky is a dark with thick, purple clouds. A gentle breeze blows them across the skyline at a moderate pace. Kyrin glances at the others briefly, but it's immediately nearly turned into a case of whiplash as the Chyleni woman's eyes are wide as saucers, an expression of deep horror on her face. "No..." she whispers, her hands to her mouth as if wanting to call back that word. Her tail, so far relatively still, begins lashing so ferociously, she might need a medic for it soon enough. "I am coming with you," she promptly announces, hardly giving the two Lieutenants a nod before doing what it takes to keep pace with Brandis, whether he likes it or not. Casting a glance towards the Major and the Doctor as they begin to recede away, the Corellian looks to the Marine and says, "Well, I'd best be moving along. Need to go see the flight surgeon for a medical exam before I hit the rack tonight. Stay in touch Gene. Let us know where you are, if that's allowed and how you're doing. We'll miss you." And with this, the pilot of Ghost 7 gives his former squadron mate a crisp salute and then heads in the direction of the Military Compound. ".. just like old times, fella's. This is so reminiscent of the old days," a dark haired woman is saying in a tone of voice that is equal parts cold politeness and faint mocking at the same time. Escorting the dark haired woman into the supply deport is a quartet of bulky looking marines wearing full gear and with weapons held ready. The woman's blue eyes are sparkling faintly and there's a distinctive stubborn set to her jaw and shoulders, her stride long and confident, her gaze sweeping constantly over faces of those she moves past. The head of the happy quartet doesn't appear to appreciate her comments, of course, or her presence, and to his low voiced statement she turns slightly, head tilting, and replies archly, "Then find the Doctor Finian, or tell him that Doctor Caiton is here, and then you can go back to doing what ever it is that you do when you're not trailing me around like grumpy shadows." Brandis recognizes her voice as she draws closer, of course. For someone who's been his constant companion ever since he regained consciousness on Caspar, he's had plenty of time to grow accustomed to tone and cadence. But in his current emotional state, he's far from glad that she came here to find him. "What is WRONG with all of you? Can't a person just leave when he chooses to, without being followed around like some helpless CHILD." he rounds on Kyrin. "Why would you come with me, Kyrin? To learn the details of my downfall, to find out precisely how it is that I've been reduced to THIS? And YOU!" He turns now to Lynae, bracketed by the men who've been told to keep her under guard until more information is gathered. She'll probably be jailed unless some extraordinary strings can be pulled, and even now Brandis isn't certain he has enough clout remaining to save her from whatever reasons brought her chasing after him. "Why couldn't you have just stayed where I left you? I was FINE when I left, I'm frelling FINE now." physically, perhaps, but his temper has definitely seen better days. His breath comes in gasps as he chokes back the need to sob once more. He thought he'd gotten over the shock of being Force blind, but having to tell Kyrin just brought it all back, just as powerful as the moment he'd awakened to a terrifying sense of being utterly alone in his own mind. It's as if he slapped her. Stopping abruptly, Kyrin's expression is one of shock for... a second or two. Enough for the hurt to register, before the cold and unfeeling professional Ghost Leader face comes back. If there is an urge to deck the man who just yelled at her, Kyrin stills it without so much as a flick of her tail, always a good indicator of her mood. "As you wish, then, Doctor," she says in a calm and cool voice. "I am glad to see that my choice was the correct one," she adds heartlessly, although both of her hearts are beating furiously within her chest. "Good day to you." And then she simply turns her back on him, which takes her within line of sight of... Lynae. There is another shocked moment there, but given the Chyleni being in professional mode, and noting the Marines guarding the former Commodore, she makes no move other than beginning to make her way back to the X-Wing squadron that means more to her now than love or petty revenge. Gene nods to his friend, "I will miss you as well, and I will keep in touch friend. I'm sure they'd let me." Trying hard to hold back emotions. He snaps a solid salute, and watches him head off. Though he won't change his mind, this is a bit harder then he thought it was going to be. He didn't think he made that much of an impact on them. He watches Kyrin and Brandis a moment, but doesn't want to interfere, so he turns to make his way o where he needs to turn in his uniforms, droid in tow. A voice, somewhat familiar breaks into his thoughts and he pauses, turning with brows raised to the dirrection it comes from. "What the...?!?" His eyes landing on Lynae. Though Brandis' words also reach him. How can they not? But the shock at seeing Lynae, has his attention more. Yet, he says nothing for now, just watching her. Tilting her head slightly to the side, Lynae stops walking as she spots Brandis and the winged woman at his side. She folds her arms across her chest, her feet bracing slightly apart as she waits for Brandis to find the end of his emotional outburst and through the exchange of words between him and the Chyleni. "Well now, I can see you still have a way with words, Doctor," she says in a voice that is a perfect foil for his emotional one, her own being blandly neutral as usual. "One, I don't think you're a helpless child. Two, you checked out without waiting for me to give you the final okay. Three, I told you then and I'll say it again now. You're stuck with me. We're friends, and as uncomfortable as it is, and as clearly unappealing as it is at times, you're just going to have to figure out how to live with it. You don't get to turn your face to the wall and slink off to the shadows. Which includes cutting yourself off from your friends and comrades, Doctor, and finding someplace to bury yourself. Do you think that those who lose their sense of smell, or sight," she pauses, one eyebrow lifting slightly as she gives Brandis one of those arch looks before continuing, "or any other sense simply fold up and call it a game and go home? " Her tone of voice hardens as she continues, "Life isn't easy, Brandis. We lose things, pieces of ourselves along the way that we didn't believe we'd be able to survive without. But the body keeps on breathing, the blood keeps on flowing, and the heart keeps on pumping. We live, as painful and as messy and as uncomfortable as it is, we keep on going. Temper tantrum aside, your heart is probably hammering in your chest right now," she speculates, "and proving my point. You're not dead. And I'll be damned if I see some of my best handiwork sulk off into the sands and give up." Brandis is stiff, his posture so painfully straight, a result of training from the time he could walk upright until he left home refusing to desert him now, even amidst a crisis of, what he easily defines as, epic proportions. "Running away? Sulking off into the sands? You're on the wrong frelling planet for that, Lynae. If I were attempting to hide, I wouldn't be here at all. Tatooine is yet another place I've had the honor to call my home, until the Imperials made it unsafe. Who are /you/ to presume to know me so well? Friends, are we? Friends, to the best of my recollection, don't try to find out about each other by attempting to break each other, my /friend/." the word is cold, yet another symptom that though these strange times have found them helping each other, there are still things that he finds difficult to forgive her for, and they abide within his heart even now. He sighs, draws a deep breath and closes his eyes. Focus...control, things that are all but useless to him now in everything but an emotional arena where he must keep himself collected enough to be able to think...and apologize, as the situation demands. "Kyrin, wait... Kyrin, I'm sorry." didn't he just ask her for her patience, and a little more time? Some small voice in the back of his head insists that he did. Apparently it is not something she is willing to give him, at this point. Kyrin turns when her name is spoken. However it is not the face of a friend who greets Brandis. It is the impersonal dead eyes of a career officer who has work to do. The face of a soldier who has seen too much. Done worse. Failed so many times to do the right thing. "Perhaps you should start asking what is wrong with /yourself/ rather than those around you," is her cool and emotionless comment. "No one is permitted to speak to me like that, not even you." Gene's departure is noted as grey eyes watch the former StarOps pilot and his droid take his leave, and there is a brief moment of head-shaking. She may never understand why Gene is doing what he's doing, but she will obviously respect it, for she doesn't try to stop him. Then her grey eyes return to Brandis and Lynae. Mostly Lynae. And once more, she remains the coldly professional soldier and doesn't draw her sidearm to put a blaster bolt between the other woman's eyes. "Why are you here?" she asks with clinical disinterest in her voice. It's clear she doesn't care about the answer very much. Gene still doesn't move, even when his droid Spaz beeps at him a bit. For some reason, despite who she is, he doesn't reach for the blaster at his side. Or move closer to her, or anything. His face, reading of mixed emotions toward the former Impy medic. Apparently he knows her as well. He absently drapes the garment bag over Spaz, and drops his pack from his shoulder. His arms cross over his chest as he watches her. Cold blue eyes meet gray and a look is exchanged that displays the professionalism of both women, rank uniform or status not withstanding, at least to Lynae's point of view. "Why, enjoying the glorious hospitality of this planet and the friendly nature of it's inhabitants, of course," she says in a light tone of voice. The faintest edge of a smile curves her lips upwards for a moment, the gesture never reaching her eyes. Her gaze sweeps to the side, studying Gene for a moment before a look of recognition registers in her eyes followed by another faint smile before she continues speaking. "I never presumed to know you so well, Doctor Finian. I don't presume anything, it's a futile expenditure of time and effort, and I do so hate to waste my time. As to the attempt to break you," she pauses again, eyebrow arching upwards, "I believe we've already covered this portion of the conversation. Did you need a recap?" she inquires. Her arms uncross, her hands moving to tuck into her pockets at her side. The casual gesture makes the four marines take a noisy step forward, "Oh for the love of what's left of my sanity, gentlemen, you've already frisked me for weapons. What do you think I have in my pocket, some dangerous pocket lint?" She makes a disgusted noise and shakes her head, "Is it too much of a stretch to consider that I might actually have some interest in your continued well being, Finian?" Gene notices the smile, and does offer one in return. A bit confused as well to her presence here, but for different reasons, apparently then the others. He'll have to talk to her later though, he hopes. Right now, however, he has uniforms to return. He looks to the other as well, and offers them a final salute. He apparently is finding it hard to say much of anything right now though. "I'll keep in touch." Then to Lynae, "And I hope to talk to you soon, before I or you are shipped out. But for now, I must get this taken care of."
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