Author's Note: Another wonderful chapter featuring laloga's amazing OC, Kellan. Credit for this chapter goes entirely to her and please remember, Kellan, Ziv and Neely are the creative property of laloga. Kase and Blazer Corps are mine. Should you want to borrow any of these characters, please contact one of us first.

Baffled

Companion piece to Distracted

SOP dictated all nonessential communications be withheld from the comm-channels while the soldiers were engaged in combat, which meant that, following an off-ship mission, the moment Kase returned to the Stalwart he would received a backlog of messages. It was the only sensible way to manage the day-to-day functionality of Elix Company when situations took an unexpected turn. As they often did.

Indeed, no sooner had Kase's boots touched the deck did his HUD light up with incoming transmissions. In all likelihood there was nothing pressing, but he was unwilling to take the risk. While the rest of Elix Company trudged to the barracks, mess hall or the nearest 'fresher, he paused at the side of the larty bay and blinked into his HUD to access the waiting messages.

There were nine: five HoloNet alerts for various, war-related news stories Kase was following; three comms from Quartermaster Braxx, asking when the next shipment of replacement power-converters was slated to arrive; one from the bridge.

This was by far the most notable.

The Rendia Freight pilot has arrived with her delivery, and is awaiting your inspection. She requests that you meet her in the cargo hangar ASAP.

The timestamp was two hours old.

Two hours ago, he'd been enmeshed in close-combat, up to his waist in slugthrowers, knives and electrostaffs; the planet Drongar's most valuable resource, the bota plant, was considered too precious to risk the use of normal artillery. Even now, his back and shoulders ached from the unusual strain of handling the unwieldy slugthowers. His bodyglove was crusted with sweat, as neither Kase nor the men under his command had showered in three days. Sleep was a distant memory.

But their rotation on Drongar had been marked with a number of successful battles and that was reward enough for any soldier.

Kase made a mental note to spend a few rotations training with slugthrowers to prevent further muscular discomfort in the event Elix returned to Drongar, and headed for the nearest turbolift. No doubt Pilot L'loga had left by now, but the supplies would still need to be routed to their necessary destinations. And, of course, he would have yet another manifest left behind without being validated, as was protocol. Though, since that first, less-than-satisfactory delivery two months ago, Pilot L'loga had been true to her word, and had not only arrived on time, but had the manifest – not a grocery list – ready for his inspection.

She'd apologized for that, too. Not that it made any difference.

As the 'lift hummed beneath his boots, he blinked into his HUD to open a private channel with Ziv; Neely, his usual assistant, had been injured during the battle, but Ziv had also been trained in this task.

The trooper's response took a few moments longer than it should have. "Captain?"

"Trooper Ziv, Pilot L'loga has arrived with our weekly delivery. Meet me in the cargo hangar immediately to assist offloading the supplies."

"Now?"

"That is the definition of 'immediately,' trooper."

"But we just got back!"

The numbers on the 'lift's panel blurred, and Kase blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. "Per Regulation thirty-two point four of the Manual of Operations and Procedures, all cargo is to be offloaded and received into ship's inventory as soon as possible."

"Sir, I'm dead on my feet. I haven't even had a shower, yet." Ziv's voice took on a slightly higher pitch. "Can't the delivery wait this one time?"

"No."

"But–"

"Trooper Ziv," Kase broke in, clenching his jaw. "Did a medic declare you unfit for normal duty?"

"Uh...no?"

"Are you aware that I am your commanding officer?"

Ziv sighed. "Yes, sir."

Each breath aggrandized the bruise Kase had sustained on his solar plexus during the battle, but he ignored the discomfort. The analgesics that Wess had provided would last for another hour or so, at least. "You are physically able to perform your duties, and you have been given a direct order by your superior. Do you require a review of the GAR command structure?"

There was a pause, then Ziv heaved another, though far deeper, sigh. "No, sir. I'll be there in a minute. Sir."

The trooper's tone was respectful – though barely. Such a thing was not enough to warrant disciplinary action, but it was too close for comfort. Frowning, Kase could not help but add, "You can shower and sleep once the task is complete. Duty must always come before personal preferences."

He cut the channel without waiting for a response and took another, painful breath, though this time he leaned against the 'lift wall – just for a moment. Just for the duration of the journey. Almost immediately, however, something chimed above his head, jolting him upright. An alarm? No... The door was open. How long had it been open?

Kase shook his head to clear it and stepped out of the 'lift. The cargo hangar was devoid of ships, save one vessel, and he blinked in surprise. After six weeks of hard, close combat, even the shoddy freighter was a welcome sight, made so by its familiarity and the realization that the civvy pilot had remained to complete her assigned task.

As he approached the vessel, he noted a strange, muffled thumping sound emanating from the ship, strong enough to vibrate the hull. He was no mechanic, but such a noise could indicate a serious malfunction. Hopefully the pilot was aware of the matter, but he resolved to inform her, just in case.

When he rounded the freighter's nose and caught sight of the fully-loaded gravsled at the base of the ship's loading ramp, he exhaled in relief. Though he would have to perform a more detailed inspection, at first glance, everything appeared to be in order. Assuming Private Ziv arrived in a timely fashion, this assignment would be complete within a few minutes.

A datapad rested on top of one of the crates: the manifest, though it was unsigned. Both he and Pilot L'loga were supposed to confirm the receipt of the supplies. Sighing, Kase clipped the datapad to his belt and proceeded up the loading ramp. Each step seemed to make the thumping louder and stronger, until he stood at the entry hatch, which rattled on its hinges. Even his chest buzzed in time with the bizarre sound. It was rhythmic, but beyond that, he could not fathom the source of such a din.

In any case, he had a job to do. Kase pressed the door-chime and waited. The only reply was the steady, driving thump that shook him from the inside-out. He pressed the chime again. No response. Could she even hear the chime? Kase resisted the urge to pull off his bucket and rub his forehead. He did not have her direct comm-code, but even if he had, if she did not react to the door-chime it was unlikely she'd answer her comlink.

The hatch was not locked. He could just step inside and ask her to sign the manifest, though he had no wish to enter her ship unannounced. But the only alternative was to stand here and wait for her to notice...

There was really no debate. With a deep, aching breath, Kase opened the door and stepped inside.

The source of the thumping was immediately apparent.

Before the baffles in his helmet kicked in, Kase was bombarded with noise, the likes of which he'd never heard. Screaming, shrieking, thumping, all rhythmic in such a way as to suggest music, but there was no rational pattern he could discern. For the duration of the three point eight seconds it took GAR technology to compensate for the din, he stood, stunned, as the music rattled through his bones.

When the noise was finally muffled, he exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. With a shake of his head, he made his way through the ship's corridors – thankfully devoid of lacy, personal undergarments – to the cockpit.

This door was open. Within, as he'd expected, was Pilot L'loga. What he'd not expected was to find her in this state.

Kase stood in the doorway and stared, for he had no way to quantify what his eyes showed him. The Human female was at the center of the still-messy cockpit, within a little clearing of flimsi mags, arms flailing, hips swaying, mouth moving as if she were talking. Not talking, he realized, but singing. She was singing along with the "music." That, at least, he could tell. Beyond that, her gesticulations were utterly foreign. Absorbed as she was in her...activities, she did not appear to notice his presence.

It took him far, far too long to shake himself out of his haze, which he attributed to the extensive physical exertion from Drongar. He adjusted the volume of his exterior mic to accommodate for the noise. "Pilot?"

The only change was that the pace of the music increased, somehow, and she tossed her head, red-gold curls flopping wildly before she made some sort of...punching motion with both arms. Her eyes were squeezed shut as if in rapture. Or, more likely, pain, given the volume of the "music" that accosted her eardrums.

"Pilot L'loga!" No response. He raised the amplification of his mic to full and said her name a third time. In response, she bent her knees and increased her gyrations in both tempo and exuberance, along with the music.

What other option did he have? Kase squared his shoulders and stepped – carefully – through the debris until he was close enough to see the electric-purple coloring she'd applied to her closed eyelids. She continued to gyrate, heedless of his presence, so he tapped her left shoulder twice.

Brown eyes flew open and fell upon him, and she screamed. At least, he thought she screamed. Certainly her mouth was wide enough, but, thankfully, he couldn't hear. In any case, she screamed and jolted away from him, only to bash into the pilot's chair while simultaneously tripping over what looked like last week's discarded dinner containers.

Kase's reflexes were well-honed and his body moved before his brain registered that she was falling for the deck. Keeping his own feet planted firmly, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his chest. He held her in place for one moment, allowing her to find her footing, before he carefully set her upright.

The moment she was stable, she slammed the control-panel and the cockpit's decibel levels dropped considerably. She shook her head and said something to him, but, again, his kit needed to adjust to the rapid change in volume.

Rather than wait, he removed his bucket and tucked it beneath his arm. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, 'what's up, Captain?'"

"The manifest," he unclipped the 'pad from his belt and handed it to her, "requires both our signatures."

She did not take the device for a moment, only looked him up and down, forehead creasing. "Kriff...what happened?"

Of course she was annoyed. He'd been late, after all. Kase exhaled and straightened his spine. "I apologize for my tardiness. Elix Company has been involved in combat for the past rotation. Please sign the manifest, and I'll be on my way at once."

But she shook her head. "That's not what I mean. I've never seen you anything less than pristine. Are you okay? You look like you got run over by a herd of rontos." Her eyes widened as she surveyed him once more. "You were fighting. Did you get hurt?"

"I sustained a few minor injuries from handling the slugthrower. Nothing a shower and a few hours sleep won't cure." And a bacta-patch or two, but his physical condition was not her concern.

She frowned. "I thought you guys used blasters. What the kriff were you doing with slugthrowers?"

"That information is privileged," he replied curtly, and offered the manifest once more.

But she ignored the datapad in favor of scrutinizing his face. "When was the last time you slept?"

"How is that relevant?"

Still frowning, she crossed her arms across her orange flight-suit and regarded him. "I know what's in those crates. It's nothing that couldn't have waited for you to get some rest. If you'd just told me you were tired, I could've come back. I stuck around because you guys were the last stop on my route, and I wanted to make sure you got your stuff okay."

Such diligence was commendable, but protocol was protocol. Kase took a deep breath and, to his dismay, winced at the ache in his chest. "Per Regulation thirty-two point four of the Manual of Operations and Procedures, all cargo is to be offloaded–"

"I know it's GAR protocol," she broke in, curls swaying as she shook her head. "But Rendia pilots can shift our delivery schedules to accommodate our clients – especially if said client's been slogging it out on some dirtball."

Kase ran through his mental list of every regulation and found nothing that either prohibited or allowed such conduct. But then, she was a civilian, and therefore operated by a different set of procedures – of which he was apparently ignorant. "I was not aware of Rendia's internal policy."

Her lips quirked. "If you'd like some recreational reading, I can bring you a copy of the company handbook."

Intriguing. Aside from a few news stories, he'd never read a civilian document before. Perhaps it would give insight into Pilot L'loga's constantly perplexing behavior. "I would appreciate it."

To his surprise, she smiled fully. "I figured."

After a moment, he cleared his throat and offered the manifest once more. "If you'll just..."

"Right." She accepted the 'pad and withdrew a stylus from her pocket. As she scrawled her signature, she glanced up at him. "Thanks for the catch, by the way. It almost makes up for you sneaking into my ship and scaring the kriff out of me."

Kase nodded to the console. "If whatever that was had been quieter, you would have heard the door-chime and I would have had no need to enter your vessel without your knowledge."

"'Whatever that was?'" She chuckled and handed him the 'pad. "I take it you're not a fan of glimmik music?"

"Listening to music at such a high decibel level will cause hearing damage."

She sighed. "But a high decibel level is the only way to listen to glimmik."

The manifest was signed. He should have left, but he could not help asking, "Is gesticulating and flailing also a component of listening to glimmik?"

"Flailing...?" Her mouth formed a small "o" and she flushed. "Oh, you mean the air-banding."

Kase stared at her, completely baffled. "The...what?"

Her flush deepened. "Air-banding. You know...pretending to play an instrument while you're listening to music."

"Pretending to..."

The civvy pilot smoothed back a few errant curls and shrugged. "I know it's silly, but it's fun."

Nothing she said made any sense, and it wasn't simply because he was fatigued. "It's...fun to destroy your eardrums and flail around your cockpit?"

"Yes. It helps me unwind, sometimes. Plus," she sighed and glanced around at the piles of old flimsi mags and food containers, "sometimes it's nice to pretend to be someone else. Helps me take my mind off."

Her voice softened, just for a moment. He was more tired than he'd realized, for he found himself unable to disengage from this line of inquiry and the question was out before he could weigh its importance. "Off of what?"

"Sorry," she said primly, straightening her shoulders. "That's privileged intel."

Yes, he was definitely tired, for he almost thought she was serious...until she winked at him. That was his cue to leave. Already, he'd dawdled too long. Kase tucked the 'pad away and nodded to her. "Thank you for the information. I look forward to reading the Rendia Freight handbook."

"You'd be the only one."

Kase turned to leave, but was stopped by the sound of his name. It was unbecoming of an officer to sigh with weariness or annoyance in the presence of either subordinates or civilians, but his fatigue had reached a point where he was tempted to do so nonetheless. Marshalling the self-control he prided himself on, Kase turned back to the civvy pilot. "Is there something else?"

Pilot L'loga handed him a small, rectangular piece of flimsi. "Next time you're going to be late, just comm."

It was a business card, with the name Kellan L'loga neatly embossed beneath the Rendia Freight logo, along with several comm-codes and a HoloNet address. Kase glanced back at her. "The bridge has your contact information."

"But now you can comm me directly without waiting for them to pass along a message."

He shook his head. "Even if I'm not in combat, I am not always in a position to make a comm-call."

Again, she ran her eyes across his battered armor. "No kidding. But if and when you are, and you need to reschedule the delivery or something...well, now you can." She offered him a smile. "Isn't it more efficient this way?"

Surely there were regs governing such a thing. But his brain was not cooperating, for he could not recall them at this moment. Indeed, the letters on the card began to blur, and Kase blinked a few times to clear his vision.

"Captain? Did you hear me?"

There was no harm in agreeing with her for now, so he tucked the card in his belt. "I suppose it is more efficient than routing our communication through the bridge."

Her brows knitted. "Look, I know you're anxious to unload all those power-converters, but please get some rest when you're done, okay?"

His mouth opened to tell her he was fine, but at this point, it might have come a little too close to an untruth. "That is SOP. Your concern is unwarranted." He considered her a moment, then added, "But it is noted."

"Good enough for me," she replied wryly. "See you next time? Assuming there's no slugthrowers involved, I mean."

Kase nodded. "Next time."

Meanwhile…

Ziv glanced around the hangar and sighed. Captain Kase had been so karkinginsistent that they offload the kriffing power-converters right now, but of course now the captain was nowhere to be found. Other than Pilot L'loga's ship and a full gravsled, the hangar was empty. There was no sign of Captain Stick-Up-His-Shebs. The sled was full, at least, though the manifest was also MIA, and Ziv groaned. The last time they didn't have a manifest, Kase had made him and Neely manually record every item and it'd taken for-kriffing-ever.

Crazy barve, Ziv thought, yawning as he began to sort through the crates of the apparently crucial power-converters. Every muscle ached and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Couldn't this have waited until he'd had some rack time?

A steady, even tread made him look up in time to see Captain Kase descend the ship's loading ramp. Though his gear was scuffed and his eyes were shadowed, Kase's stride was as brisk and precise as if he'd just arrived fresh from Kamino.

Ziv frowned. Weird. They never went on the ship. Okay, maybe that one time, but Neely had said it was an anomaly.

Kase approached the sled and unclipped a datapad from his belt. "Once we cross-check the cargo against the manifest, we will deliver the power-converters to Quartermaster Braxx immediately."

"You were on the ship," Ziv said.

The captain's brows knit. "Your observation is correct."

If Ziv didn't know any better, he would have sworn the captain was pulling his gauntlet. It was impossible to believe that anyone could be this serious; it had to be an act. Normally the captain's stolid attitude was kind of funny, but today, Ziv was not in the mood.

"So...is everything alright with the manifest?" he asked.

Kase did not look up from the 'pad. "It appears to be."

"'Cause I've been here for a few minutes," Ziv added, trying and failing to withhold a yawn. "I mean, duty calls and all that, but if Braxx needs this stuff so badly, it just seems weird that you weren't here to help. Sir," he added quickly, wincing.

"Pilot L'loga and I were discussing more efficient lines of communication." The captain glanced between the crates and the manifest, and added, "To that effect, she provided me with her direct comm-code."

What. The. Fek. Ziv must have been more exhausted than he realized, because this did not add up, and he goggled at the officer. "A woman gave you her digits?"

Kase exhaled and finally looked up from the 'pad. "I believe that is what I just said, trooper. Is there a reason why you feel the need to reiterate what I've already explained?"

"No reason, sir," Ziv said quickly, grabbing the nearest crate. "I'm just tired, I guess."

"I am aware of your physical condition," Kase replied calmly. "You will receive your allotted rack-time once the task is complete."

"Copy that, sir." But Ziv honestly wasn't annoyed any longer. There wasn't room for annoyance when he was so utterly baffled. Captain By-the-Regs, Stick-Up-His-Shebs Kase had scored a girl's personal comm-code.

Ziv sighed deeply. No one was going to believe him.