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| - An immense, echoing chamber comprises the majority of this entire level of the station, fitted with repulsor and tractor arrays to hold aloft the skeletal structures of entire starships as they slowly come together, a piece at a time. No matter what, there's always at least one starship being put together, and so the entire shipyard bay hums with activity around the clock. Along the after section of the bay are the actual offices of the shipyard, almost inconsequential in comparison to the rest of the level. (Enb'Zik) Do Colonels ever get a chance to just sit down and take a real break? Enb'Zik is starting to wonder that very thing. The last weeks - months? - have been filled with one duty after another. Trips to Coruscant, trying to run Ghost Squadron, then being informed he had to run Ghost AND put together a new task force - Maker, what a relief it had been to finally pass off Ghost to a new Commanding Officer! Then there was inspection of the two new Corellian Gunships, and sometime this week the techs had promised him the Forge would be ready for her shakedown cruise. Honest to whatever god or gods were out there, Enb'Zik had sworn to himself that by the time that happened, he'd be ready to take the ship to Kashyyyk or some other suitably out-of-the-way planet just so his team could spend a week doing NOTHING. For now, though, that blessed "nothing" is not on his list of priorities. He had, at least, gotten out of his duty regs. He'd found an unexpected haven of semi-privacy atop the port wing of his own starfighter. Perched there upon the Ranger with his back against the raised fuselage behind the canopy, Enb'Zik now stares at the display on his datapad, reading page after page of information on some apparently-fascinating subject. (Johanna) "Did anyone ever tell you that you're liable to bust a gasket one of these days if you never take the time to unwind?" How could these words come from anyone but Johanna? She had, after all, been known to set up shop, as it were, in some corner or other of the Crusader's starfighter hangar, usually with Bazil and Cricket and a few holos containing salacious shots of officials in compromising positions in tow. Fine times! Orders to meet with the wing commander, you say? What orders?! Nonsense. There had been trouble for it of course, but the pilot had never really let that bother her... much. She saunters up to the Mantaray in her usual manner, paying little heed to how intrusive it might make her seem to just be invading someone's personal space (for yes, those curious creatures of the vacuum known as 'starfighters' are indeed precious and personal things). "I think you work too much. Of course, the Empire never takes a vacation, but that doesn't mean you couldn't stand to have one yourself." (Enb'Zik) For whatever reason, Enb'Zik doesn't immediately recognize the familiar timbre of his old friend's voice. Either he's so deeply wrapped up in what he's reading that it doesn't occur to him, or he's been bothered by so many that Johanna is for a moment just the next person in line, or he's just so worn out that her inflection simply doesn't penetrate. Whatever the cause, Enb'Zik reads for several long seconds before he blinks two, three times, rubs his right eye with the palm of his hand and looks up. He has to blink a few more times to readjust his droptacs after the rubbing. "Heyyyy..." a tired laugh directed at himself rolls from his lips as the identification of his visitor finally dawns on him. "Well, if you had asked me that ten weeks ago, I'd have said you were absolutely right. And I still do, but as you said, our enemy doesn't seem to rest." As he speaks, Zik realizes that if Johanna had not walked up, he'd probably have drifted off to sleep. Stretching, he sets the datapad on the matte black wing surface and scoots out to the edge. "Come to think of it, I could use a little caff. How've you been?" (Johanna) Been a while since she's sat on the wing of a starfighter like a proper pilot jealously watching her ship. "Restless," she replies, debating the idea of just hopping up there to join Zik, "The last engagement I had was weeks ago. Funny how every time I swear I've retired from the profession of making Imperial ships explode, I get this hankering to just... you know... well. Make them explode." He probably understands how it is; starfighter pilots become miserable when not given anything to go chase and destroy. "Anyway, I came to see you and just shoot the breeze. And yeah, you look like you could use some caf. I'm a little afraid of what they brew up here, though." Johanna shifts her weight from one foot to the other in a little gesture of impatience before grinning broadly. (Enb'Zik) Laughing a little more as he slides his datapad over to the edge of the wing and slides his butt in the same direction, Enb'Zik hops lightly to the ground and reaches up to collect the small device. "Eh, it was pretty bad when I first transferred over from the Crusader, but it's gotten better here lately. I figure if you can train an Ugnaught to make good coffee, you can accomplish just about anything." He indicates a station about fifty meters off where a pot of caff sits cooking atop an electric burner. "Restless?" he queries as he begins to walk, turning his head to look aside at the darkly garbed woman. With a smile he teases, "I thought Jedi didn't become restless. Not to mention making things explode. Not that there are many sights lovelier than the bright flash consuming some Imperial's last breath before he can take it." A strange expression crosses the Sullustan's face, shifting oddly through without affecting the fine crinkle of the smile around his eyes. (Johanna) There's a pregnant pause during the span of which any number of things come to Johanna's mind. A few words about the Jedi. About pilots. About herself. But she's not here to lecture, she's here to have a visit and so her dark gaze is mild as she regards her friend, the strange choice words about the Imperials not lost on her. She doesn't recall Zik ever actively enjoying killing someone... eh, he's probably just tired. "Taught an ugnaught to do that? My, you *have* been busy," Johanna chuckles as they move away from Ranger One, "How's Snarl doing? I haven't seen her in a while either." Come to think of it, she hasn't seen much of anyone lately, being the wanderer that she is. (Enb'Zik) "Snarl is doing real well. Thanks for asking!" the Sullustan answers, the odd moment passing as quickly as it came. "She's been working with me on this new assignment. Along with a few others." As the two walk along, they pass the long gangplank that stretches from the main deck plating out to the boarding hatch of the NRGS Forge of Hope. "One of your apprentices has been helping us, too. I'm sure Doctor Finian would love to catch up with you if the chance arises." Again, he lifts his hand to rub at his right cheek this time and seems thoughtful for a moment. "Matter of fact," he says slowly, "maybe you could help me figure some things out regarding a mission we've got upcoming." Zik's strides are measured but taken at an easy pace. He seems laid back, even casual, in spite of the currents of stress just beneath the surface. His remark about the Imperial's last breath isn't the only noteworthy word choice, though. Even the word 'enemy' is one he's not made a habit of using in the past. (Johanna) "He's not my apprentice," Johanna briefly corrects, instinctively slowing her own generally hectic strides to match her pace with Zik's, "I had no idea Doctor Finian decided to take up with you. He's an odd one if you ask me. Neither here nor there, and I wouldn't trust him not to shoot off his own foot if given a blaster. But I guess we all have different talents." Another chuckle, though this one is a little subdued. "Mission, you say? What kind of mission?" Nosy much, Johanna? She did say she was restless, though. "Not that it's any of my business, but since you mentioned I might be of some use... well." Something is off, to be sure. (Enb'Zik) "Sorry," Enb'Zik clarifies his word choice, "I meant 'your' as in the Jedi in general, not you specifically. As far as talents, Brandis seems to be a fine doctor. I've been very impressed with him so far." The two reach the brewing station, and Enb'Zik reaches for a cup, which he offers to Johanna first. "I'm not sure how much I can say," he qualifies, "Then again, there's not a whole lot you don't already know about where New Republic military is concerned. We've been asked to check into a situation revolving around some ancient artifacts." Reaching for the handle of the pot, he wrinkles his brow, "Seems the Jedi of long ago really had a thing for embedding their secrets in stone." (Johanna) Johanna had taken a sip of the surprisingly tolerable brew and begun to revel in the memories it brought up of extended duty cycles driven by adrenaline and caf. Had almost begun to swallow it, even... ... before it comes spewing out of her mouth in an arc that mercifully misses Zik but hits the floor pretty hard. She's not been known to want for self-control these past few months, and so this behavior would likely be surprising to her associates at the basilica, but to Zik? Zik probably takes it all in stride. He's seen her *on fire*, after all. "Ancient... stone... artifacts," she repeats slowly, working the words for a few moments and then fixing Zik with a terrible, penetrating stare, "Stay out of it. Don't meddle in the affairs of the Dark Side." (Enb'Zik) Ikihsa's body twists to the right, just putting that much more room between him and the liquid stream of dark brew. His eyes widen marginally as he watches his old CO's reaction. "Well, it was just a theory," he begins, his voice petering out like a child's whose hand was caught in the pastry dish. Looking at Johanna a moment longer, he then turns to the caff dispenser and picks up a second cup. He's silent as he puts it beneath the spigot and begins filling it, the sound of running fluid the only one to be heard, aside from the hum of activity in the hangar. He doesn't look Johanna in the eye as he speaks again, but instead gazes at the Forge. "We don't know that's what it is," he begins again, "What we know is that we have an archaeologist who found some stones with some strange writing on them. He spent some time studying them, then the Imperials took interest and chased him off planet. We don't know what's happened there since." There's another pause before he adds, "So, I started looking up stones and artifacts and archaeological finds on the databases and started getting cross-references with the Jedi." Finally, he turns back to look at the woman who'd reacted so strongly, "Are you telling me Jedi don't use stones, and if my archaeologist's finds /are/ Force related, it's a bad thing?" (Johanna) "I'm not saying anything of the sort. There were... are... things that are better left to the devices of those who are trained to handle them. Would you send Snarl into a sortie against an Imperial fighter ace without her having undergone training? Zero flight hours don't bode well for a space battle." She can't tell him about the dreams or the visions she's been having again. No, they are something just for Johanna to worry over and fear despite all attempts to push such apprehensions aside. The memories they've released...of the events that transpired on Tatooine, of Vadim's invasion of her thoughts, even of her hiding the stone she'd found... they're enough to lend a certain amount of force to her words that would normally be absent given her utter lack of interest in the field of archaeology. "What does it matter to you, anyway? Old rocks? You're no academic. What are you really after? A reward? Prize money? Has some old collector gotten you chasing after the trail?" What's with all the questions? (Enb'Zik) The woman's advice is met with careful attention, the kind of listening that any squadron leader worth his salary would make sure to do. Enb'Zik's entire reason for consulting Johanna on this subject - indeed, the reason for all the research he's been doing since this assignment came to him - has been for the sake of knowing what his team is going into so that they can approach this mission as safely as possible. The rapid-fire questions, however, cause him to step back. His head tilts strangely as he stares at the Jedi. "It matters because it's my mission, Joh," Enb'Zik answers plainly, a bit surprised that she wouldn't understand that. "I've been given an assignment to investigate, nothing more. These stones might be nothing at all. For Maker's sake, we might not even encounter them. I just want to know what I might be looking at if I do, nothing more." (Johanna) "I want to know who asked you, who gave you this... assignment." It seems as if the evil of Vadim has a hand in developments yet again, as it had with the stones on Tatooine and Kashyyyk. Who but that ancient power hiding himself in unknown space could have sent them all the visions that had them scurrying to retrieve the artifacts, only to lose them to servants of the Dark Side? Suddenly her voice has an oily persuasiveness to it. "Was the order handed down directly from Leia in person, or did you receive word from a third party that an investigation was warranted? It's so utterly unlike Republic brass to pay any attention to finds in the private sector. Especially not ones on some backwater planet being reported on by a half-baked archaeologist. Who is this being, anyway?" Oh, she has her suspicions, but she wants a confirmation before she makes any statement one way or the other. "Don't you find it strange in the least?" They've moved away from the caf dispensor by now, the pilot finding herself unable to drink much more of the dark liquid. (Enb'Zik) Ikihsa guides the pair back toward the docking bridge extending out to the Forge of Hope, his container of caff balanced in his right hand. He answers without naming the person in question, at least in the beginning. "The gentleman was brought on board the Paladin by Leia. With her recommendation, in fact." The Sullustan shrugs, "He told me he'd been doing research at the Basilica, so you guys must know him. Goes by the name Kyle Senesca?" Reaching the gangplank, Enb'Zik turns to look at Johanna, "Is it strange?" He frowns thoughtfully, "I suppose strange is what I've come to expect, given the changing face of the Republic. Things /are/ changing. When the Empire has stolen as much of our galaxy as it has, eventually you have to go behind enemy lines to have space to move around." Again, beneath the calmly delivered words, there is that stirring of ire indicated through unusually cutting vocabulary. END PART ONE
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