The fact she couldn't sense any nervousness from him, only drove her to continue. Emperor's black bones! Here she was sitting in his lap, and he apparently didn't care. Normally, she had males of lots of species begging her to sit on their laps.
She was getting frustrated by his complete composure, and amusement at seeing her annoyance. The rogue Jedi had always seemed a bit of a loose ion cannon, and this lack of any emotion was driving her nuts. She kissed him carefully, merely brushing her lips past his and sending an electric jolt through them.
He arched an eyebrow, but didn't respond, which only frustrated her even more.
When she kissed him again, much to her surprise, he kissed back. Hmm, she mused, this is taking an interesting twist. She leaned into the kiss, and he let go of her wrists as she wrapped her arms around his neck and twined her fingers in his shaggy hair. And not an altogether bad one, she added as his hands slid down to her lower back.
OO
The astromech droid chirped a warning that their reversion to realspace was imminent. Carefully, the two Jedi stretched and yawned.
"I think he's trying to tell us something," smirked Kyp.
Phaelon snuggled closer. "But I'm comfortable."
He chuckled. "You might be, but I'm not. This seat is killing me. And anyways, they catch us like this and we'll be the talk of the Jedi Order and the Republic military for the rest of the war." – He added thoughtfully, "And Mara just might blast me into oblivion for the fun of it."
She considered the possibilities for a moment carefully turning herself back around in the seat. "It's tempting, but then Mara would likely kill me for robbing her of the fun of killing you herself."
From their vantage point, Kashyyyk was a brilliant green orb hanging in the vastness of space. The IFF blinked, identifying several warships orbiting the planet and several more nearby. Closer at hand were two X-wings bearing the markings of High Flight Squadron.
The com squawked irritatingly and Phaelon rolled her eyes, but flicked the switch anyway.
"Dozen Lead, this is High Flight Three and Four," said a very young-sounding voice. "You've been ordered to report to Mon Mothma immediately."
"Will do, High Flight," replied Kyp when Phaelon had thumbed the com switch. "Thanks."
Colonel Celchu was waiting for them at the far end of the docking bay when they finally set the X-wing down. "I thought these were one-man fighters?" he asked, as Phaelon slid out of the cockpit and had to catch her balance on the nose of the ship as her knees threatened to give way.
She smiled, rubbing her asleep leg. "You'd be amazed at how much room there is in there."
Tycho cast Kyp a look between disbelief and confusion, but the Jedi Master merely shrugged and slid to the duracrete beside them. "General Antilles and Master Skywalker would like to talk to the two of you." – He paused. – "Though they might be surprised to see the both of you."
"They wouldn't mind if we hit the 'fresher first, would they?" Phaelon asked. "This suit is getting rather indecent." Indeed, it was stiff with dried blood and the rips were only getting larger.
Tycho frowned. "You probably want to see the med bay too."
Kyp shrugged. "I'll talk to them now if they'd like."
"That would be good." – He looked at Phaelon. – "Report when you've gotten checked out."
It was difficult to get treated for something you didn't know what it was. No one in the med bay had been familiar with shanhs, so they swathed her midriff in bacta patches and told her to come back if they started to look infected.
Clad in a bright orange flightsuit that belonged to someone several times her size, Phaelon walked through the white corridors to the General's office. At her knock, General Antilles opened the door. "Come in and have a seat, Jedi Lei," he told her. "Master Durron has just finished telling us of your…adventure."
She nodded and took the chair next to Kyp. Wedge continued. "These Ansonians, are they helping the Vong?"
Kyp shook his head. "There was no indication that they were."
"Except for the Hutt," interrupted Phaelon. "He was trying to trade us for his freedom, but it looks like he escaped when we disappeared."
"But the natives?" Wedge goaded.
She shrugged and glanced at Kyp. "Nothing. We don't think they have any real concept of worlds besides their own. They're no real threat to anyone."
Wedge nodded. "Okay, well that's all the debriefing I've got for you. Master Durron answered some of my questions before you arrived… Now, you're probably wondering where you're headed next." – They nodded. – "Twin Suns is on mission right now, and Colonel Fel has been ordered to create a new Chiss squadron. We were hoping Master Durron would be willing to reform his Dozen."
Kyp eyed them warily, then looked towards Luke, who was lurking near the door. "And Master Skywalker agrees with this?" he asked suspiciously.
Luke nodded. "Not that you'd exactly listen if I said no. I just decided to save myself a headache."
"Alright," he replied warily, still not taking his eyes off the Jedi Master, "I guess I can do that."
Wedge smiled and looked at Phaelon. "The choice is up to you. You can either stay with Twin Suns, or I can get you transferred wherever you'd like. You intimated earlier perhaps the diplomatic corps?"
"Actually, sir," said Phaelon after a moments thought. "I'd like to stay with a fighter squadron. I can see now that diplomacy is only getting us killed unnecessarily."
Luke looked slightly staggered; prior to Borleias, the Jedi Knight had been one of his supporters. Phaelon relished the moment – it wasn't often one could surprise the Jedi Master. His eyes flickered suspiciously to Kyp.
The rogue Jedi merely shrugged, looking slightly surprised himself.
"Allow me to explain," said Phaelon, noticing the accusatory glances they were shooting Kyp. "While on Ansion, I was able to speak with Master Durron, and by no means do I agree with all his actions. But in this case, I think the only forms of negotiation the Vong will listen to is war. A good diplomat is able to understand her opposition and adapt as circumstances dictate. And if this war dictates we fight, I am willing to do just that."
A perfect quite descended on the office, until Wedge cleared his throat. "Okay. I'll see what I can do."
They left the office several minutes later, heading towards the crew quarters. "If General Antilles doesn't come up with anything good," said Kyp, "you're welcome to join the Dozen."
She smiled seductively. "I might need some more convincing if I'm to join your group."
"Exactly how much more convincing would you need?" he asked cautiously.
Assuring herself no one was coming down the hall, Phaelon slammed him back against the wall and kissed him fiercely. Twisting around, they managed to stumble through the door to her quarters.
The door had just hissed shut again when one of the Wraiths emerged from his hiding spot halfway down the corridor smirking evilly and wondering just what damage he could do with the knowledge of what he'd just seen…