Aurora Force - Annals

             “So, ten more minutes?”
            Cam was not entirely certain what his mother was talking about. He was pretty sure it didn’t apply to him, as he was actually up early. Not that he wouldn’t have minded another ten minutes of sleep; in fact, he’d tried to claim just that. For him, though, sleep would not come.
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            “Dargan.”
            It was 0354 local on Xenen, and Izra Dargan had just barely crawled into bed after playing designated pilot for some of the guests for the Bel Iblis-Bullian wedding.  The small apartment he kept on Wayfarer wasn’t much to look at, but he stayed on-station so rarely it didn’t matter all that much.  It had been more convenient the night before to stay on the orbital station rather than fly back to his modest house on the surface, so he’d schlepped there and collapsed into bed about two hours before his comm went off.
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            Davil scrubbed the sleep from his eyes as he made his way resolutely toward Wayfarer’s operations hub where he prayed a cup of caf would be waiting for him along with the reports from Jargunda on the upgrades to the array of small ships of the line that would shortly be assigned to a new task force.
            Amazing how quickly things fall apart.  Just when we thought we might be all right…  He rubbed the last lingering sleep from his eyes as he stepped into the operations hub, tugging on the hem of his moderately rumpled jacket which still smelled of flowers from his sister’s wedding the day before.  They didn’t even get one full night’s sleep before…I wonder if that’s what it was like for Mom and Dad?  He winced at himself and cut the line of thought abruptly.

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    “Now if you have any more problems,” Jeir said, his arms waving around with great emphasis, “you know how to contact us.”
    Jeir’s voice trailed off as Kal’or walked away from the group of people towards the VCX-820, sleeping gently in a grassy field.  He couldn’t quite bring himself to acknowledge it’s beauty, though he could admit how soothing the place felt.  It was strange how everything seemed a bit softer; cleaner than it had been before, when the war was on.  The planet wasn’t so bad after all.
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              He came awake groggy in the light of a glowstick shining in his face, maybe an hour after falling into bed.  Cracking an eye open long enough to get a glimpse of Dorrin in the stick’s backwash, Davil groaned, pulling the blankets up over his head.
            “I don’t care what your sister paid you to do that, go back to bed.”

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      It was late.  Later than Jeir should still be awake, at least…the lack of sleep that had become the norm for weeks now was being intruded upon, yet for all the wear and tear on his body and the heavy eyelids his mind raced through far too many thoughts to let him have such peace. 
    Not wanting to bring further attention to the growing assault force at the Citadel’s northern gates, Jeir had flown the transport farther south, well out of range of the Citadel’s sensors.  They would stay there with the seals open for air and all systems off for the night, then meet back up with the assault group in the morning.
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            The atmosphere, so heavily laden with moisture that the ghost-gray clouds that had eclipsed the sky sank lower and lower to the ground, so that by the time Les arrived back to the borders of Arradan, they seemed ready to touch the ground. The light mist that was falling did not drive Les immediately into the house, but he took a detour through the gardens, taking his time as he did, enjoying the familiar scent of damp earth and stone, and trees and plants anticipating the rain. He knew where his steps were taking him, yet continued onward. A few days ago he would have resisted going there, but now he obeyed the wandering of his feet in that direction without trepidation.
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      It was that last moment of the sun’s light for the day now, where it no longer filled you with warmth even though the warm colors it bled across the sky around you made it feel like it should be.  Instead, the cool air of the night started to sneak it’s way in, pushing the day’s heat aside.  Kiiara felt like she could identify with it more than any other time of day or year.
    She had been hiding inside of the small alcove for several hours know, her joints beyond the point of simple anger with her now and the unpleasant stench of dried blood and sweat creeping up her nostrils.  The blood wasn’t hers, which seemed to amplify the discomfort ten fold.  No, she had escaped relatively unharmed, just like she always did…a few scrapes, a good bruise on her right cheek, and her lekku–if one could call them that–a little tender.
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    Jeir slammed down on the ground with nothing resembling grace, awkwardly bouncing on his tail bone before rolling onto his back in the mossy clearing.  The moisture soaked through the back of his sleeveless shirt, three pats on his chest from his right hand sending up small clouds of dust from the day’s work.
    As discussed earlier, the base camp’s security detail–seventy four men and a few dozen war droids–had marched off just before lunch to the staging point for the northern assault group.  The Citadel no longer had anything beyond basic speeders for air transport, which turned the battle into an old-fashioned ground fight.  Nearly all of the outlying security checkpoints had been taken out by the main assault group, which left just the last line of defense–the city walls–for them to deal with.
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    Kal’or removed his helmet–buy’ce, in Mando’a–and tucked in neatly under his right arm.  Years ago he had learned the important lesson of never letting any piece of gear go you’d want in a firefight, and more important than even a sidearm to him was his buy’ce.  He had put enough credits upgrading the bucket over the years to buy a small luxury yacht, which gave him great advantage in any fight.
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