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Who: Cassian Andor (

jeronimo) & Anyone Else
What: Cassian slips away back to the more familiar and comfortable surroundings of space
When: September 31st/October 1st
Where: Thesa Station
Warning(s): None yet

Sleeping Quarters

[The beds in Thesa Station were far more familiar a commodity for the former space Captain than the ones in the house he shared back on the planet below. The room he had chosen had been empty, unclaimed as far as he could see, and there were four beds in the room, each with their own panels and shuttered windows.

He had opened the shutter in his, but the view hadn't been of space as he had hoped, and he had closed them again on discovery. He sat in a corner of the bed, his back tucked in the corner where the two walls met so he had an easy view of all but one wall of the room, another empty bed. It was quieter on the station, the noises more familiar with spacecraft.

His shoes were still on, and leaving a mark on the edge of the sheets, and his clothing was dusty with dirt from the land below, his knees muddied. He looked like he shouldn't be anywhere near the cleanly pressed white sheets of the beds that he was likely ruining, but he didn't seem to care.

He has a device in his hands, sliding through conversations going on on the network with an observant eye. He needed to start gathering information more actively and start talking, but he had spent the last few weeks trekking through the city and surrounding areas, creating maps for himself and getting a feel for the land. He pauses when the door makes a noise and slides open, glancing up from his device to catch sight of the company joining him. ]

Need something?

Mess Hall

[After an interruption in his escape to solitude, Cassian takes the nudge to get out and move around the emptier station. It seems like a lot of the former population is back down on the planet, but there are still a few souls wandering the halls, and a fair number of them seem to be finding lunch in the mess hall. Cassian takes a meal from Roman that looks like little more than a thick, overly processed bar and a packet with liquid in it. There are plenty of better options, but Roman seems to know exactly what Cassian needs to get a feeling of stability right now. Rations: one Imperial-like liquid nourishment, and the other more akin to the actual substance of an Alliance ration.

Both are neither appetizing or satisfying, but they are familiar and there is comfort in that. He took his food to the massive windows overlooking the planet and set the tray to balance precariously on the window ledge, looking out over the moving cloudscape and black-blue of space where planet and darkness touched. Cracking the corner of the liquid pouch he made quick work of the ration, and twisted to let the ledge dig into his shoulders while he watched the rest of the mess hall.

Catching sight of an unfamiliar food on the tray of the person walking nearby he spoke up.]

What's that you've got there?

Hangar Station

[While in the mess hall, Cassian overhears some chatter about the mech suits and ships that peaks his interest. The knowledge that he can't fly any of the ships stored there isn't enough of a deterrent to keep him from going to have a look. He can be found walking the length of the central path back and forth for hours, stopping now and then to ask others questions about the ships and mechs, or just gripping the rail and staring at them.

It's only a desire to keep under the radar and on the good side of the Orbiters that Cassian isn't jumping the rail and going for a close up look, despite the tug of his instincts to learn as much as he can and slip into one of the cockpits for a close up experience. His grip tightens, his gloves creaking under the stretch and pull, and he drops his head to stare at the ground.

He'll build their trust first, then he can get a closer look.]

Simulation Station

[Even with the familiarity of space, it's not quite enough. Cassian is restless, and being 'grounded' in either respect of the station or the planet has his fingers itching for the familiar controls of a ship. Seeing the ships in the hangar had only made that pull worse, and Cassian finds himself at the simulation station not long after. He's working on setting up a room, eyes on the console as he learns the process.

If he can't go to the observation room, perhaps he can at least access his own memories and revisit his galaxy for a while. As it turns out, others can enter the room with him, so anyone with an interest is likely to find themselves stepping into the hangar of an imperial star destroyer. He isn't willing, even now, to give up Alliance locations and ships more than he has to, so it's the safest place to start out, ironically.]

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[ Turns out that the second attempt at teleportation isn't any easier than the first — worse, perhaps, in that he has to figure it out by himself this time and for all his prior experience, reaching for the station is not very much like reaching for anywhere else.

Once he recovers enough to push himself back to his feet, David makes his way toward the Mess Hall to procure a drink (something sharp and alcoholic) to steady his nerves, which is where he finds Cassian, and where, following an abortive attempt to sneak into the Observation Room, they decide to try their luck elsewhere. ]

So, did they have something like this where you were from? [ He asks, hands slipping into the pockets of Cassian's borrowed jacket. ]

Not exactly, no. Flight simulations occasionally, but those were less complex by far.

[He finishes inputting the information and their access and taps lightly on the doorframe, gesturing with his head to see if David is ready to enter.]

If this is capable of anything like the simulation I woke to originally, here, it's going to be a trip to remember.

Are you ready?

They had something similar too, back home. Probably even less advanced than what you know. [ Not that that's saying much; Cassian carries himself with a blitheness that David finds oddly reassuring, however. Like there's very little left that can truly shock him.

He inhales slowly then nods. ]

Let's have it.

[Once they're in the room, he gestures to a seat for David to take one, and situates himself in the other. Cassian engages the program, despite his misgivings about letting the station access his mind again, and the room and station around them go black, the feeling of slipping away taking over again. When the lights come back, they're standing in an elevator, white walls and bright lights around them. The doors slide open and Cassian looks up, his pulse kicking up at the familiar hangar in front of them. It's not real. He reminds himself, as a pair of officers march by the doors without giving them a second glance. He glances over at David, who is in disguise with him, and starts moving after giving him a nudge with his elbow.

Beyond the elevator is an expansive Imperial hangar filled with carefully stacked and stored ships and dozens of stormtrooper units going through their drills, a sea of white and black all around them.

Cassian keeps his eyes on the shuttle he remembers hi-jacking once before, in the same memory this scene is from, single-focused. Beyond it, the open hangar shows a view of space, and an orange and blue planet in the distance below.]

Whatever happens, keep walking. Don't look at anyone and let me do the talking.

[ The light fades, and with a sudden jerk of vertigo they are standing upright. David flings out a hand to stabilise himself-- leather fingers splayed against the smooth metallic surface of some kind of elevator. ]

Huh. [ -- a startled exhale, broken by a soft pneumatic hiss as the door of the elevator slide open, revealing a room at least as large as the storage unit on THESA station. Larger, perhaps. Louder, too; bustling with life and sound and movement and if it weren't for Cassian's timely interjection David is sure he would have been caught staring.

Is still staring, though he ducks his head in apology, following after Cassian. Doing his best to match his pace. ]

[He moves with purpose, eyes trained ahead and posture confident, like he belongs. His step is in perfect timing, shoulders and back straight, uniform in meticulous condition. He wears it like a glove.

They cross the hangar uninterrupted, and Cassian dismisses a pair of troopers at the entrance to the shuttle with a sharp command and mention of an inspection. Things are about to get difficult and dangerous, but David doesn't need to know that yet.

As soon as they are out of earshot he gestures to the cockpit, directing David to take the co-pilot seat, and slips a hand over his blaster.]

Keep your head down and press the yellow button to your right.

[As soon as David hits it the rear door starts to close, and there are a pair of confused shouts from behind it, one of the troopers making a jump for it. Two shots from the blaster and he falls back to the hangar, Cassian sliding into the other seat, one hand still gripping the blaster and the other quickly going through a series of switches and buttons, the ship rumbling to life with a hum and then the whine of propulsion engines powering up.

He already has the hyperdrive warming up before they even take off, and then he punches forward, firing a last shot out the closing door of the ship as it shoots down the hangar, barely missing plowing into a unit of stormtroopers as they propel along. Alarms are blaring, troopers are scattering for their TIE fighters, and Cassian's eyes are on the radar as the nimble shuttle zips out of the Star Destroyer.]

You're going to want to hold onto something. [They have cannon fire they need to dodge before he can punch it, and he's not surprised his mind is providing a fight from the Imperials. They'll be lucky if they make it to Hyperspace.]

[It helps that returning to Thesa Station is an option available to him. The ability to be outside and enjoy the planet is nice enough, but it doesn't change the fact that so much of his adult life has been spent in space. There's a certain relief that comes from being amongst the stars.

The operations aboard the station differ than how things were run aboard the Finalizer--from the food, the schedule, to the fact that he's no longer among the top of the command. Despite that, there's enough of a familiarity that it's more comfortable here than down below.

It would be a lot better, though, if he had the luxury of being able to leave, even for a short while. Unexplained storm be damned. It's a nice thought, even if he hasn't the faintest idea where he'd travel to. The desire resonates enough that detours to the hanger during one of his walks. There's a lot that he doesn't have access to, but it's at least interesting to see what sort of ships they have here, if only from a distance.

It's during this walk that he spots Cassian, and since they've spoken a couple times briefly before, he sees little harm in attempting to strike up conversation again. Even if it's not something he's particularly skilled at.]

You have an itch to fly. [Mind-reading, or observational skills? Does it really matter?]

[It would matter, if Cassian had any awareness of the options. He doesn't, though, so he just looks up again when a nearby voice speaks up.]

Gravity fever and a touch of restlessness. [Mixed with a need to see for himself that what was beyond the ship actually matches what appears in the various windows and shielded hangar.]

You too?

[He can relate, but it feels like a weakness to admit that directly.]

Being limited to one planet and this station is a bit dull, isn't it.

[More like suffocating, but here they are.]

[The problem with this place is that what they consider food is...less food and more...well.

Not food.

But Fitz isn't fussy. He misses cook Sara's pies, sure. He would probably murder a man, messily, without any assassin skill at all, if he was promised one of her pastries. He would do great damage to another human for some Buckkeep fare, but that was true a year ago when he came back from the dead and his greatest joy was raw rabbit.

He misses rabbit.

He thinks he may have found a roll, or something vaguely approximating a roll, and he thinks he found, well.

The man who asks makes him wonder, too.]

I wish I knew.

I think that's bread. I hope it's bread.

[Fitz knows that the best way to make friends is this strange affectation; he knows it's how he made friends with guards. He thinks friends would be good, around here.]

Bread, hm. [Cassian gives it an appraising look, contemplating the similarities. There's a chance it's bread. There's also a chance it's some kind of strange limbless, eyeless creature baked until it resembles bread. But he does still have a tiny pie in a box that was given to him by his roommate in his jacket pocket, and he glances around before nodding to a table nearby that won't lose him his view.]

You want to have a seat? If it turns out to be a mistake I have at least one edible item on me that won't come with surprise mystery meats or gels.

[Fitz's smile topples in one direction, not crooked because it's roguish but crooked because it's half there. The distinction isn't particularly clear, but it doesn't matter. He takes a seat and pokes at the food.]

Turnip mash I could deal with. Or horse oats.

Or even horse.

How did you luck out?

[He pokes at the main portion of the gruel, and opts to break the bread open instead, offering Cassian half.]

So close, yet to far huh?

[ Hey there sorta canonmate, the Exile is here to point just how sucky things are. ]

If it was worth the hassle I would already be fighting my way out, but alas.

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simulation station;

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hanger station

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Mess hall;

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hangar