Aboard the RSD Kestrel, in hyperspace
Much to Sey'les's annoyance, immediately after the Kestrel jumped to hyperspace, she and Nebhir were both dismissed together, but not with Morai. Now that Nebhir had been presented as evidence of time travel, and the Commodore was listening to that blasted Convor Prophet, Sey'les suspected her usefulness had come to an end.
A squad of clones escorted Sey'les and Nebhir back to the medical bay, where a dark haired human male met them in the doorway.
"I am Lieutenant Iven, nurse—"
"And I am Lieutenant Commander Perla, ship's doctor," a Mon Calamari interrupted. "We've met already, Nebhir Traf'lab. Now please, take beds eight and nine."
Nebhir smiled weakly, walking over to bed eight.
Sey'les stood her ground. "With all due respect, ma'am," she said to the Mon Calamari, then turned to the human, "and sir, I need to be back in the briefing room. Rescuing Kix will require boarding action. I may be a few years out of practice, but it is completely insane to leave me—"
"Take bed nine or I will have the troopers drag you over and drop you into it!"
Just fantastic, Sey'les thought, biting back the sarcastic comment. Her fur stood on end as she stormed across the medical bay, lying down in the bed right next to Nebhir's.
Iven approached her bed, holding up a diagnostic scanner. "Your records show you have an artificial kidney, as well as some brain implants which were surgically removed after they failed."
"Yes sir," Sey'les muttered, staring up at the ceiling lights. "It was on a Mining Guild Planet, where the whole 12th Army got a big dose of Cronau Radiation… Well, I can't go into too many details," she added, cutting herself off. "But the failing brain implants caused my body to get surged with so much adrenaline that my kidneys failed."
"Yes, it's all in the report Kelia sent to us," Perla nodded, reading data from a wall-mounted viewscreen.
So that's what they're doing with Morai—Digging over my records… Probably Nebhir's too.
Hearing loud slurping noises, the Bothan turned her head just in time to see Nebhir gulp down the contents of a disposable flimsiplast cup.
"That dose of Ryll is only about a quarter what your body is used to," Iven explained, "but it should be enough to lessen the withdrawals and—"
"What about Glitterstim?" Nebhir asked in a quick stammer.
"This is a Navy Vessel," Perla snorted before Iven could answer. "We don't carry hard spices."
Sey'les sighed. It dawned on her just how bad this must look—to show up on this vessel with her dodgy military record, alongside a spice-addicted smuggler whose criminal history was probably capped with the attempted murder of a Jedi. If it weren't for the Prophets, or Veil Dwellers, or whatever they were, she would certainly be in a holding cell, alongside Nebhir.
o.o.o.o.o
After Lieutenant Iven finished a level 2 Atomic Scan, no one seemed to want anything more from her. For the next hour, Sey'les sat in the medical bay, positively twitching with boredom.
Nebhir had long fallen asleep—the half-Squib had literally not slept in over two years, though she had also skipped most of that time, so it was really more like she hadn't slept in a few days.
Trying to ignore the half-Squib's snores, Sey'les's head turned every which way, staring at the long thin rectangular lights mounted on each of the medbay's walls. The first time she counted the lights, she counted 49 in total. The second time, 53. The third time she counted 55 and frowned, uncertain if she was noticing more lights, or more likely, was just so terrible at focusing on the minute details that she had miscounted the lights three times in a row.
"Lir Sey'les, please report to Commodore Los'ean's office," a voice said over the medbay's intercom.
The Bothan was filled with so much anticipation that she literally jumped out of bed, but immediately regretted her haste. In the hour that had passed, her right leg had fallen asleep.
"Lir Sey'les," one of the troopers said gruffly, "Follow us."
"What are you smiling about?" another clone asked.
"Oh uh, nothing," Sey'les growled, forcing her smirk into a more neutral expression as she followed the clones out into the hall. She gave one last glance back into the room. Nebhir was still fast asleep.
o.o.o.o.o
Sey'les ducked the moment the doors to the Flag Officer's ready-room opened. Carrying a datarod in her beak like a carrier pigeon, Morai flew through them, nearly hitting the Bothan's face.
"Watch where you're going!" she sputtered, spinning around to watch the Convor continue around the corner to the turbolifts.
{"Good luck, Lir Sey'les,"} the Daughter's voice echoed in her mind. {"Commodore Los'ean has been so kind as to give me free access to the bridge and crew areas, as well as my own quarters. Hopefully they won't make you sleep in the medical bay for the duration of this mission. Do not worry. I told Commodore Los'ean all about you."}
Sleep in the medical bay... Sey'les's fur bristled at the thought of sleeping on a poorly padded cot under the constant lights. It would almost be worse than sleeping in the brig.
"It is customary to face a flag officer when reporting," Kelia said dryly, still sitting behind her desk.
Reporting? Oh. Sey'les wheeled around, took two steps into the room, then stood at attention. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Lir Sey'les reporting as ordered." Her snout scrunched up, smelling the distinctly sharp burn of hard liquor on Kelia's breath.
"Most people call me 'sir' on this ship," Kelia said, closing the doors. "Take a seat."
"Very well, sir," Sey'les growled. Her eyes scanned the room the moment she took a seat, taking in her surroundings. There were a few High and Old Republic era ship models, holos, and several trinkets Sey'les did not understand the significance of, but next to the flimsiplast folder labeled 'LIR SEY'LES' was a half empty bottle of Tihaar and a cup filled with a few drops of the substance.
Shtak! She's been drinking, Sey'les thought. Her fur fell flat as her mind began making wilder and less plausible assumptions. She read my folder, and the contents caused her to drink while on duty.
"Why do you look so fearful?" Kelia asked, eyebrows raised.
Sey'les's fur relaxed, becoming shaggy and fluffy again. "Sorry sir, it's nothing."
"Good." The Commodore reached under her desk, withdrawing a green-gray uniform in a plastic sleeve. She passed it, along with an officer's pendant with four squares, two red atop two blue. "Under the authority vested in me by the Military Creation Act, I am granting you a field commission with the rank of Lieutenant."
"Wow—I mean, thank you sir," Sey'les growled, "I half expected you to just leave me in the medbay… Or the Brig."
Kelia frowned. "That's still a distinct possibility. Report to General Rel'skar in docking bay one."
Sey'les set down the uniform packet which she had been crinkling. "Docking bay one sir? Am I leaving the ship?"
"Yes. The second we exit hyperspace at the first rendezvous point, you will disembark the Kestrel and report to the Vanquisher."
So I am leaving with Kev. Sey'les wondered whether the Commodore was transferring Kev and her to a different ship just to get them out of her hair.
o.o.o.o.o
To Sey'les's surprise, the Vanquisher was a long but thin Pelta-class frigate. These vessels had several configurations, most of which were support roles as medical ships or cargo haulers. The Vanquisher though was a boarding vessel, and shortly after realizing this, Sey'les understood why it was that she had been transferred to it.
She was introduced to her squad—led by a balding middle aged human, Lieutenant Commander Mornsted. It consisted of a Togruta female medic, Neesa Seke, a human female sniper, Sydnai Jyno, a Mahran CQC expert, Arsk-Solve, a Zabrak male demolitions specialist, Ocke Volar, and human male technician, Tarned Fytra.
While Sey'les was still struggling to remember all six of their names, another briefing began. This one with not only Mornsted's squad, but also a group of colorfully armored Clone Commandos and a second unit of Republic Direct Action Operatives in addition to Kev Rel'skar, his Padawan, Ekos, and the Captain of the Vanquisher.
"Once Kestrel disables the Separatist cruiser, squads one and two will spearhead the boarding action," said Lieutenant Commander Mornsted, gesturing to the aft portion of the Obrexta III.
"What about us?" Kev asked.
"Sorry General, I thought it was clear," Mornsted stammered.
"It is clear," said the Captain of the Vanquisher, an auburn-haired human female named Newa. "Sir, direct your gaze to the squad composition—"
"I know that," Kev snapped at the Captain, looking down at his datapad, "Okay… So we're in squad one… With Lir Sey'les."
Sey'les loudly ripped a packet of nuts open, but a bit too roughly. Nuts scattered all over the floor, rolling beneath the chairs, holoprojector, and table. Everyone in the room turned to stare at her.
"Lieutenant," Mornsted said through gritted teeth, "Did I say this was time for—What even? Where did you get those?"
"Ratpack six, sir," Sey'les answered in a deadpan, pulling the open ratpack from her bag, and displaying it to the whole room. After once having been stranded on a backwater world in the Deep Core for eight months, she had very little to eat besides Ratpacks. The Bothan's fur danced with pride as she took the opportunity to show everyone just how much she knew, while reciting it all in a neutral tone. "Ratpack six is tomato sauce and army noodles. I didn't really want to eat the noodles, but I was hungry. The medical bay on the Kestrel didn't feed me, and ratpacks seventeen and thirty-four also have nuts. The problem with ratpack thirty-four, is it has sausage in it though, and I am a vegetarian—And ratpack seventeen has spiced nuts—Spiced nuts have a very dangerous smell, so I avoid them. While you were in the refresher, sir, I took the liberty of requisitioning several—"
"Enough!" Mornsted snapped, his balding forehead creasing with wrinkles of anger and concern.
Amidst the hushed whispers and quiet snickers around the table Nesaa Seke raised her hand. Arsk-Solve tried tugging the Togruta's hand down, the blue and brown-furred Mahran wearing an expression of fear on his face.
Sey'les had seen the mischievous look in Ensign Seke's eyes a million times. She was certain Seke was about to ask an inappropriate question to humiliate the new Lieutenant in front of everyone. The Bothan curled her lips back, exposing the tips of her pointy yellowing teeth as if to dare her. Bring it on.
"This better be on topic, Ensign," Mornsted sighed.
"It is sir," Seke nodded, speaking in a very formal Coruscanti accent.
"Since you know so much about ratpacks, I was wondering if you could enlighten us as to the nutritional value of the supplementary items."
"The supplementary items?" Sey'les growled incredulously. Then her fur let off a slight ripple as she realized the supplementary items included a contraceptive sleeve. She's suggesting I put contraceptive sleeves in my snout… What the hell does my record say? I'll—Oh! Her fur suddenly danced with excitement as she thought of how to turn that suggestion right back on the Togruta. "Well Ensign, the nutritional value is irrelevant. The ratpack's contraceptive sleeves are to be used but not swallowed. Even if one ends up in your mouth."
Sey'les had expected a wave of laughter to ripple through the room, lightening the mood. Instead, at that bombshell, were gasps of horror. The Togruta blushed pink-purple. Captain Newa spat her caf out, coughing hysterically. The Clone commandos in the room guffawed with laughter until General Kev Rel'skar let off a high pitched snarl.
"Shit that's nasty—pardon my language, General, Lieutenant Commander," Seke stammered, still blushing purple. "I was just thinking of the chewing gum… I'd like to see a Bothan chew gum. I was not thinking of contraceptive sleeves. Your snouts well… I'm sorry General Rel'skar!
Further gasps and snarls filled the room.
Sey'les's ear batted in annoyance as her cocky smirk from her joke melted, replaced by wide-eyed surprise. Gum?! How can anyone who's in the military and not a Clone be so innocent? Was I EVER that innocent? "Oh, well in that case, same answer," she growled, folding her arms sternly. "Don't swallow gum, Seke. Don't swallow contraceptive sleeves. Problem solved."
"Will you excuse Lieutenant Lir Sey'les and I for a moment," Mornsted said to the Captain, his jaw locked in anger.
Uh oh.
o.o.o.o.o
The Bothan's fur twirled unhappily as she sat on the cot in her room, alone, datapad open to the specifics of the mission they would all be undertaking in 12 hours. Through her quarter's circular viewport, she could see the Kestrel, a shadow against the swirl of hyperspace.
After screaming at her for a minute, Mornsted had taken two of the rank squares off her uniform, given her a 'field demotion' to Ensign, and dismissed her from the briefing. He told Sey'les that she could read the briefing alone, since she was so badly behaved and seemed to think she knew everything.
But he also said he would be quizzing her on all seventeen stages of the boarding action. If she did not satisfactorily answer his questions, she would be left in the brig.
Field demotion, Sey'les scowled, scrolling down the datapad screen with her furry finger. The prospect of facing the rest of the squad in twelve hours as an Ensign—especially Neesa Seke—was so humiliating that it churned her stomach. Field Demotion! That's not a thing… But kriff it, if I don't impress Mornsted tomorrow—Or at least perform as expected, I'll be lucky if they deport me back to Ashnenvisk in an orange jumpsuit.
No… That's not the worst possibility, she realized. If we fail, Order 66 will go down, the Empire will rise, and we will all almost certainly be killed off… It's one thing to go back and forth through the Vergence Scatter, quite another to rescue a clone who knows all about Order 66… They know—
{"What do they know?"} an unfamiliar droid voice asked, voice echoing in the Bothan's mind.
{"Nothing yet,"} answered the vaguely-familiar voice of Ahsoka Tano. {"We need to keep it that way for now."}
"Oh kriff it!" Sey'les whispered. She squeezed her ears, trying to silence the voices.
{"We simply must tell the High Council,"} the droid voice protested. {"We can't possibly stop something like this alone!"}
Her fur fell flat at the realization that whatever had happened in the Vergence Scatter, when she had stuck her snout into the Jedi superconscious, was still afflicting her.
"I need to tell Mornsted I'm hearing voices," she whispered to herself, then snarled loudly, arguing with herself, "No! Push through it! You can do it Lir Sey'les… Just ignore the voices… Step three, Kev takes point."