Alderaan-That-Was

[Ben Merasska]

Erric Danuel, a lieutenant aboard another vessel within the convoy of the Wheel, stopped and looked around the cafeteria for a pilot. He was, presently, sitting somewhere on the Whalodon, nursing a strong caf which he had filled with too much sweetener (which was just the way he liked it). His Captain, a man named Henning, had gone with the Knightfall to the surface of the planet called Lethe to aid in the procuring of supplies.

"Ben Merasska?" He called, and the sound of a dropped mug and a yelp alerted the officer to the man's position. He walked over to the man and sat down. Ben Merasska gave an almost pitiable look at the officer with his eyes, as the lower part of his face was hidden behind a cloth. The dark stain on the cloth was evidence of where the spill had occurred.

"Yes?" the red-haired man asked, his breath causing the napkin in front of his mouth to flutter.

"I have a question for you," Danuel said, pulling out a datapad. "I don't think we would have noticed it if it weren't for a coincidence, but your birthplace is listed as 'Space'."

Ben nodded. Danuel stared at him for a moment.

"We know there are those born while aboard a ship. They either name the ship, or the planet where their parents lived and were citizens. Now the only reason I'm talking to you about this is that the Alliance has been contacted by a man whose name is Denton Hadrana, an Alderaanian by birth. He was looking for his nephew. He didn't find him, but did learn that his nephew had served with the Alliance before being a Guardian, as a pilot."

Merasska's face, Lieutenant Danuel noted, or what could be seen of it above the napkin, had paled considerably.

"Hadrana claimed his nephew was Ben Merasska, a pilot, who had served with Red Squadron before the Battle of Yavin, and had several different occupations throughout the galaxy since," Danuel continued. "You. At least, all the information points to you. Except for the birthplace, of course. We do need to know if you remember having a relative by the name of Denton Hadrana."

Ben didn't speak, but nodded; the Intelligence officer tried to ignore the napkin.

"He's very ill," Danuel said, "he requested to speak to you as soon as possible. We don't have much available for such a personal mission, but there is a JS-77B in the hangar that is not slated for any missions or duties. The Empire had stationed a slim force there to deal with the scavengers and arrest anyone coming there to find Alliance symapthizers, but according to our information they have drawn them off for other duties. You should be safe for the duration of your trip."

"I know a doctor," Ben replied quickly, napkin falling from his face. "I mean..."

Danuel nodded. "We're already taking care of that," he said. "Hadrana has information that may prove to be very important for all surviving Alderaanians. Otherwise, you'd not be going unless your Captain was a very nice guy."

Ben swallowed the last of his cooling caf, and nodded. Danuel stood, and handed him a small datapad.

"Consider this a side-project for Alliance Intelligence, Merasska," Danuel said. "Which means you can take care of your personal affairs first, but if you want to come back to the Wheel, we need you to also help Hadrana with his information. All the information you'll need to get there, and some of it to get back, is on the pad."

Ben glanced down at the pad, and back up, nodding. "Okay."

Danuel nodded, and strode out of the galley, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts.

[Chaz de Coventina]

Rain. That was what she missed most about home - real home, not Coruscant. On Coruscant the rain was a pathetic imitation of life, scheduled and broadcast neatly on the WeatherNet. Light showers scheduled between the hours of 4pm-6pm this Zhellday. Climate appropriate attire recommended. It was just another convenience, a neat trick to tidy up the lives of Galactic citizens who couldn't be bothered with unexpected trivialities; and it was convenient, true. But it wasn't beautiful.

At home, the rain had been beautiful, alive in its vibrancy. Nearly every morning of her life Chaz had been woken by the cool whisper of gentle water - so soft it was more mist than anything, seemingly hovering in the air rather than falling from the clouds - greeting the silver dawn and welcoming the day. It had seemed to her then to be as her mother's hands, when they softly cradled her cheeks, tracing the freckles that danced across her nose. Tucked in bed, surrounded by the familiar acquisitions of her mother and father, with the caress of the rain sounding outside, the young de Coventina had felt certain there could be no safer place in all the 'verse.

Still at other times, it had been a frighteningly fierce force. In the summer, when the air grew thick and still with tense heat and the ground trembled in anticipation, the sky would suddenly split and great torrents of water would bullet down like a shriek, a cry. The drops flew with such violence that it was almost painful to stand outside. No one could prepare for it; there was no ticker dedicated to announcing the minute changes of cloud formations.

Home was such a distant concept, now. They were all just a bunch of drifters here, united by a cause rather than a culture. It was easy to forget about the things they'd left behind - or the things that had been taken from them - when surrounded by the void of space, even if it was those losses that had driven them here.

Chaz paused at a round viewport and stared out at the dark landscape, the stars that littered the blackness. They were so far from anything out here. It was unsettling.

Shaking off the foggy cloak that was trying to entrench itself in her mind, the doctor hastened into the mess hall of the Whaladon. It wasn't hard to find Ben; his signature brand of colourful shirts made him easy to spot in a crowd. Chaz made her way over to him, slowing to stop when she neared. The woman hesitated for a moment, loathe to disrupt him when the look on his face signified he was somewhere else entirely.

"Ben?" There was nothing for it. Leave from the Wheel wasn't something that allowed for loitering. Chaz clasped her hands in front of her and waited for his attention, amber eyes fixed keenly on the pilot that she should have known much better than she actually did. "We're meant to be at the hangar, you and I."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben, contrary to character, didn't jump in surprise or do much of anything as Chaz's voice brought him out of his reverie. He just stared at the blank datapad (it must have powered off while he'd been out) for a moment and then moved his gaze up to Chaz with a weak grin.

"They got you, huh?" he asked, standing. The normally recalcitrant doctor looked a lot more sympathetic and... well, nicer than usual. Rather than make him feel better, his unfamiliarity with her acting like this made him feel awkward and uncomfortable. Though, to be honest, he was getting to like this version of the doctor better than the one he'd mostly avoided on the Knightfall. "Well, let's get outta here then."

He continued to be quiet on the way to the hangar, content to let Chaz do the leading for the moment. The white walls of the corridors made him feel like he was dreaming; like at any moment, he'd wake up in his bunk on the Knightfall out in the vast black of space with a cargo and a destination. At any moment he'd have Cap'n Henning gripping the back of his seat as he learned something new about flying the old girl while in the process of flying it - like when he learned that the landing gear didn't operate unless he held down the button which controlled the assembly. All he had to do was open his eyes, and he'd not be in a floating target for the Empire, with a bunch of nuts who lived each day continuing a war which had...

"Ben," Chaz was saying his name again in that weird - nice - manner. Her voice actually sounded kinda nice when it wasn't packed with sarcasm and bite like a needle filled with the kind of medicine which made you sick before you got better. "Ben, which shuttle is it?"

"Oh," he said, his eyes focussing on the few shuttles left in the hangar. Most were out ferrying parts to the repair crews on the hulls, and a few were down on the planet getting new parts. His eyes swept the four shuttles and settled on the JS; he pointed at it and said, "That one."

It was designated the Crasshound, and it had been in service since its Dantooinian owner had been captured by the Empire and tortured into giving away a cell on Corellia; the ship had been left in berth and the few fleeing survivors of the subsequent attack had used it to escape. From there it had led a distinguished career of ferrying people back and forth from one place to another until it had the hideously bad luck to be assigned to him for a mission. A couple of techs and grease-monkeys were making last minute touches to it as they approached. One was giving orders from the top of the loading ramp, and it was him that saluted when he noticed them coming up.

"There're five sets of coordinates already logged into the computer," the tech reported, dusting his hands as he walked down the ramp. "They aren't for ya destinations, but just in case yous need a quick getaway and need to lay low for a little bit. The broadcast codes which'll alert the cells on those planets are in the datapad."

He grinned. "And a heads-up for yas: there's an actual nav-computer onner, though you won't be able to tell by lookin'. So yous guys don't need ta hook up ta 'nother computer to set the coordinates. How ta work it's in the ship in the crew area. Got it?"

Ben nodded, and the tech walked off. Not spotting Chaz anywhere, he clambered up the ramp and spotted her in the crew area, inspecting a small duffel with her name on it. Beside it was a duffel with his name on it.

"They even packed for us?" he said, stopping a short distance from the doctor and the bags. "And I usually make such a good impression on people too."

He could feel the joke fall flat in the ensuing silence.

[Chaz de Coventina]

A stilted silence filled the modest space. Chaz shifted, the shadow of a stiff smile frozen on her face. After a moment she gestured at the bags.

"They've done a thorough job, at any rate," she offered with an approving lilt. "Everything needed for a short trip is present and accounted for. Not exactly subtle with their timelines, are they?"

The sundries kit she'd dug out and held up as an example - equipped with basics enough for a week, helpfully pre-rationed just in case they missed the memo - was carefully replaced. Chaz zipped the duffel closed and then hefted it onto a slim shoulder, wincing slightly as her hair caught underneath the strap and was tugged sharply. She eased the woven belt up with one hand, using the other to deftly free the tangled ginger wave before stowing the bag in a bulkhead compartment.

Ben was still standing there, caught between motion, as if he wasn't sure whether he were coming or going. It was an odd sight. Merasska was anything but awkward in a cockpit; for all his quirks, he was something of a savant when it came to flying. Chaz might have found the man taxing on her nerves at times but she admired his capability, the assured skill with which he normally filled his seat with. It's absence was made louder by the fact that with it had gone his usually astute comedic timing.

When he made no move to do it himself, Chaz discreetly stored Ben's kit alongside her own. She cleared her throat again.

"I'm afraid they never covered pre-flight procedures in med school," she said, urging him forward as subtly and gently as she knew how. "Otherwise I'd offer to take point on this one."

[Ben Merasska]

"Of course they did," Ben replied as he picked up the small flimsy 'manual' on the modified nav-computer and headed into the cockpit. "I was going to be a doctor too, but then was sucked into the dark world of piloting in 'Introduction to Pre-Flight Procedures 101'. I still don't know why I needed Basic Anatomy as a prerequisite for that class."

The prospect of flying a ship had seemed to lift Ben's unusually dampened spirits, and with an extra added will, he seemed to be almost normal - or as normal as Ben Merasska would ever be, that is.

The cockpit was a snug affair, with only two seats and a spartan (for a starship) computer panel. Ben familiarised himself with the set-up, looking over all the arrays and read-outs while Chaz did... whatever she did in the back.

"Hokay," Ben breathed as he strapped himself into pilot's seat and began waking the shuttle up. He muttered off the checklist of systems that needed to be manually powered on as he did so: "Computers, engines, unlock pilot controls..."

He glanced at the flimsy which showed how to operate the nav-computer. Apparently the techs had replaced the left computer panels with the nav-computer's innards while retaining the outward display of the hyper-drive readouts and ramp controls, which themselves still worked by having their systems rerouted to the computer assembly beneath those. The nav-computer display was set up to override the scanning panel when powered on, and then when finished a simple flick of a switch could alternate between the two control assemblies. There were no visual aids with it, though; it would display the coordinates entered and then give the system name and a small diagram. Searching for 'nearby' systems in case of an emergency would be insanely difficult, and they'd be blind while entering in coordinates.

Immersing himself in the controls and technical workings of piloting the ship eased the twitchy pilot to the point where he was humming by the time Chaz entered the cockpit.

"You ready?" he asked.

[Chaz de Coventina]

The medkit that had been supplied was startlingly bare. Indeed, it contained more opiates than anything and no more than basic first aid provisions. With a cold flush, Chaz realized that this was not a composition designed to save a life but rather, to help end one in as peaceful a manner possible. The presumption in that planning made her jaw twitch. Why did they always have to be so godsdamned practical? The level of honesty bordered on cruelty, at times.

Belatedly, the doctor realized Ben had called out to her. She glanced up, frowning. "Sorry?"

"You ready?" He repeated. Chaz closed the lid of the 'kit and locked it, securing it against the wall.

"I'll be right there," she said. It was just the two of them and so it seemed that she would serve as co-pilot. Not that she would be of any help in that department, mind, but this was... a sensitive situation. Ben ought not be alone in there, surrounded by the vast confines of space with only his thoguhts to keep him company. If only Lyannie were here; she would know exactly what to say to ease the underlying tension that lurked like a dangerous current just barely out of reach.

The doctor made her way to the cockpit and slipped into the vacant seat, staring blankly at the impressive array of toggles and switches in front of her as she strapped on her safety webbing. Then, remembering that this was Ben, she pullled it a little tighter.

"Alright," Chaz said, again offering Ben what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Lets take our leave, Mr. Merasska, shall we?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Yeah," he said, tucking the flimsy onto the edge of the seat. Out the view-port, Ben could see the mechanics and techs congregating a safe distance from the shuttle to see their handiwork take off. A press of the external comm button had him in contact with flight control, and Ben officially began their mission/leave.

"Flight control, this is Crasshound, requesting permission to taxi," He said, allowing his nervousness to get sucked away into familiar routine.
Crasshound, the officer's voice echoed tinnily from the speaker. You have permission to taxi. Bearing niner-two-niner on exit.

Ben nodded, flipping a few switches and flexing his hands on the flight-controls, making sure his grip was secure. The shuttle hovered with a deceptively unsteady wobble - deceptive due to the fact that the repulsors were not faulty in the least - and slowly eased its way to the front of the hangar, and out into space.

The convoy of the Wheel was abuzz with activity both inside the ships and outside. The hulls of the ships seemed to be alive in sections with droids and people and other conscious beings repairing what damage they could. Shuttles and smaller boats were going to and fro from one area to the next with holds full of parts and in cases dragging hull plating that would be placed on by hand - a dangerous practice, considering that even the smaller and more out of date shipyards and repair facilities left that sort of work to droids and automated function arms. All the activity was such that anyone would have been at least momentarily distracted from their less important tasks; but Ben ignored everything except the panels and controls in front of him.

"Flight control, Crasshound has exited. Bearing niner-two-niner when clear of the convoy."

Alright Crasshound. Good luck, and come back to us safe.

Ben flicked the comm off without any further reply and began easing the shuttle through the lanes of ships that were clustered around the Whaladon and the ships and freighters that were clustered around it.

"Er, Doc," he said as the shuttle left the bulk of the convoy and floated into empty space, "Check the INS readings, and enter nine dash two dash nine on the display, please."

She gave him a short look, and Ben pointed to a fairly old looking screen (though not as bad as the Knightfall's earlier one which he had replaced fairly soon after he had started flying her) which showed a three dimensional image of the shuttle. The image was cross-sectioned by four lines originating from the middle of it, and at the end of each was a number; Chaz looked at the display with an expression of alarm.

"Small knobs to the right of the display," Ben answered her unspoken question while checking the sublight engine read-out panel. "This way (Ben pointed his finger and drew a clockwise circle in the air) raises the number, and this way (Ben's finger drew a counter-clockwise circle) lowers it. It'll set the bearing conditions for the hyperdrive to activate."

Chaz nodded, and Ben fed the hyperdrive the coordinates for their first three jumps.

[Chaz de Coventina]

The stretch of gauges and switches and buttons was as foreign a landscape to the physician as any untraveled planet and, as she leaned forward and started to ply the indicated controls, a relieved gratitude washed over de Coventina; as useless as she might be, Ben was home here. This was his operating theater and all she needed to do was act as his attending (read: touch nothing unless asked to) and they would be fine.

"9-2-9," Chaz repeated as she twisted the knob, her eyes tracking the display as it settled to the requisite reading. She leaned back, drawing a deep, slow breath; she hated jumping. It always made her stomach churn. A few of the senior flight technicians aboard the Wheel had assured her that, in time, she would grow accustomed to the sensation but so far their optimism had yet to be fulfilled.

That was exactly what Ben needed; someone throwing up on him on top of everything else.

"Ben, I should warn you: I'm about as bad with hyperspace as I am with people," Chaz gave him a wry, apologetic look. "Worse, maybe. If I get sick, don't take it personally."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben smiled, the first real expression on his face he felt comfortable wearing in the last few hours.

“Let me guess,” he said, the endless array of stars shifting in the viewport. “They said you'd get used to it.”

Chaz nodded. Ben's smile lessened a bit as he listened to the hyperdrive warm up.

“People usually do. If you'd come with us on a few more missions, it probably would settle down...” Ben paused, and looked apologetically at Chaz. “I didn't mean it like that. I mean that exposure to jumps gets you used to them. You don't have to come with us if you don't want.”

Ben's guilty feeling made him stop talking. His awkwardness seemed to know no bounds today, though it was more likely that everyone else got used to it and he stopped thinking about it as they either laughed or took it in stride. He sighed.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked finally. “Sometimes people get sick because they're scared or uncomfortable of something to do with jumping.”

[Chaz de Coventina]

"It's not that I don't want to," Chaz responded carefully, grateful for the distraction. Nothing Ben had said offended her and his regret at his chosen expressions was endearing. He was only being honest in his own Ben-like way. She owed him the same courtesy."The truth is Ben, I find a great percentage of the general population to be insufferably stupid - not ignorant, but stupid, there's a vast difference. It offends my sensibilities to associate with such ones and I suppose, in indulging that particular preference, my social development has been stunted. It's hard for me to connect with anyone,"

She stopped and blew a soft, amused breath from her nose. "Even with those who I tolerate with an admirable amount of fondness." Chaz found Ben's eyes and held his gaze. It was an apology and an explanation, of sorts. The moment was cut short by a quick shrug of her shoulders. "Anway, with the captain being a doctor, my presence would be superfluous. They have more use for me here."

Outside on the deck, a control tech was signaling something. Ben nodded an affirmative (a good sign?) and then the intake ramp opened with a mechanical rumbling. A great blackness stretched outside, broken by a dusting of stars. Chaz swallowed audibly.

"You know, come to think of it, the idea of hurtling into the broad side of a sun at faster-than-light speeds makes me scared and uncomfortable," she lifted a brow. "Do you think that might have something to do with it?"

[Ben Merasska]

"You know, come to think of it, the idea of hurtling into the broad side of a sun at faster-than-light speeds makes me scared and uncomfortable. Do you think that might have something to do with it?"

Ben laughed.

“It might,” he said, through a hiccough. “I'm pretty sure that we won't though; all the space lanes we're travelling are pretty well clear of stars and gravity wells.”

The convoy dropped away, finally, and all that lay beyond was a vast blanket of black and so many stars that it was impossible to count them all. Ben cast Chaz a sideways glance. He didn't feel like side-stepping her uncharacteristic confession, but he truthfully didn't know what to say. It was like finding out there was a personal God, or being able to see a star without going blind, or having someone confess their love; what could one say when confronted with such knowledge? Nothing immediately, that was sure.

Chaz had shared something of herself with him, and all Ben Merasska could do was marvel that someone thought fondly of him, aside from Lyanie. And even then, sometimes it seemed like Lyanie simply suffered his antics with her characteristic good and simple grace, a sort of memorial of the man he used to be before. They had been friends, and Lyanie was a link to a past, to a Ben Merasska, that no longer existed except in memories. It would have been cruel to tell Lyanie that Ben Merasska, in his own estimation, really had died six years ago, so he didn't. That Ben deserved and was capable of such things, and this Ben... didn't. This Ben wore his face and tried not to let her down.

“How about this,” he said, gesturing to the hyperdrive lever. “You pull it.”

[Chaz de Coventina]

"Oh ho, Ben, Ben," Chaz shook her head, face frozen in wide-eyed look often seen on small children coming out of haunted houses. "You can't be serious."

The only thing worse than actually having to experience the intestinal yank of hyperspace was initiating it. As a passenger one could at least take comfort in the fact that they weren't responsible for the move and that it was no fault of their own that it was currently the only efficient way of space travel. No harm, no foul.

Ben's expression didn't waver. Oh no, he thought this would help, didn't he? That it would be therapeutic.

"You might think it's reasonable to assume that since I'm familiar with diagnostic technology, I am capable of the seemingly simple co-pilot duty of pulling a lever. Ah ha!" Chaz pointed a finger at him. "You'd be wrong, Ben. Very, very wrong. It's assumptions like that that lead to incredible dismal and disappointing outcomes. Like spontaneous explosion, for example."

Chaz shook her head and closed her eyes. "If it's all the same to you, I'll just keep my eyes shut and take deep breaths. Survival odds increase that way."

[Ben Merasska]

“Deal, on one condition: don't close your eyes,” Ben haggled. “I'm not trying to fix you, or whatever those shrinks do. I bet they'd probably have their careers made if they got me in there. All I know is that there's a difference between riding on a ship in hyperspace, and taking a ship into hyperspace.”

This back and forth with Chaz was calming. The less tension in the air, the better he felt; it reminded him of Lyanie a bit, though Chaz was nothing like Lyanie. It was only similar in that both of them had spent some time with him and tolerated his presence. Ben found it difficult to know when someone became a friend or was just an acquaintance, or if they were something else entirely; Cap'n Henning fit into that vague category. It was interesting that Ben liked being around the Cap'n for the silences they could fall into without it seeming awkward. At any other time for the quirky pilot, silence was something oppressive.

He let his hand fall onto the lever and shot Chaz a short questioning glance, which asked her if she was ready with no words at all.

[Chaz de Coventina]

As always, sick anticipation coiled low in her belly. Chaz met Ben's gentle stare with a roll of her eyes.

"Oh don't look at me like I'm a child that needs comforting, Ben," she said, licking her lips. "Just pull the bloody thing."

What an effort it took to keep her lids from closing! The anticipation of the jump had strapped weights to her eyes and fighting the instinct to screw them shut required a near-steady stream of concentrated determination. Saliva welled underneath her tongue and she lifted her chin as she took hold of the jumpstraps and gripped tightly.

The ship's engines were a steady whine and as Ben pulled back on the lever the pitch cycled higher and higher until it was only a tinny rush of wind against the eardrum. Outside the stars were beginning to bleed against the darkness of space, long splashes of luminescent white that stretched until they were united in a blinding tunnel of motion that the compact shuttle hurtled through.

Chaz fixed on a point straight ahead and tried not to look away from it, jaw clenched as her stomach roiled. It wasn't as uncomfortable in the cockpit, Ben had been right about that; but it wasn't particularly pleasant either.

[Ben Merasska]

It wasn't Chaz's lucky day (or days); they had a roundabout trip to their destination. Three jumps to a core planet, and then from the core planet it was another four jumps due to the higher proliferation of stars and gravity wells.

In all, Ben estimated that they'd have about three 'days' (twenty-four hour intervals) of travel, at least. The glowing tunnel of hyperspace extended before him infinitely, and Ben let it calm him; he was finally leaving the fleet. Sure, he wasn't going to the safest place in the galaxy, but it was safer than on that fleet. Being a target of the Empire wasn't on his list of 'things-to-do-before-I-die', and would likely conflict with the very first entry on that list: not dying until he was good and old and damn well ready to shuffle whatever mortal coil he had left.

After thirty minutes, the alarm sounded out the warning of their drop from hyperspace. Ben's hand slowly worked the lever back up, and the stars became pricks of light on a black canvas. Outside the view-screen, a star, a red giant burned brightly. Ben looked past the glow on the panels and frowned.

[Chaz de Coventina]

For a blessed moment, everything stopped moving. Chaz let out the breath she'd been holding. "Oh thank--"

Ben's expression stopped her. That was not the sort of face that inspired relief.

"Is something wrong, Ben?" Chaz said, voice steady despite the unease that was beginning to rise up. Her eyes flicked out to the viewport and then back to the pilot's face.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben remained silent, staring with a slightly confused frown at the panels and displays in front of him. He fiddled with a knob, checked the nav-display, and checked the notes to the flimsy he pulled from his pocket intently.

Slowly he turned to look at Chaz, his face getting a grave expression.

“Nah, it’s all right,” he said, his face breaking out into a lopsided grin. “You shoulda seen your face though.”

[Chaz de Coventina]

For a moment Chaz did nothing but stare at him as though the fact that it had been a joke wasn't computing. There were certain personalities who simply didn't invite kidding around and hers had been a card-carrying member of the group for so long that the doctor could scarcely remember the last time when such lighthearted scheming had been directed at her.

That wasn't true. Granted it had been a long time but not so long that she couldn't still clearly see Alee's delighted face as he threw his head back and let fly a laugh that soared clear to the heavens, the sheer joy at having pulled one over on his sister so bright in his eyes that they became like oil lamps burning a steady supply of mirth. Always so clever and full of mischief, it was never known when he would strike next.

No, Chaz would never forget that face, that exact face in that exact moment; no matter how dearly she sometimes wished she could.

"That's not funny," she said finally, narrowing her eyes at Ben and returning her gaze to the stars. With a lofty, calculated shrug Chaz added, "And I wasn't frightened, besides. Merely concerned that the strain of hyperspace travel had put stress your pulmonary system."

[Ben Merasska]

“I saw your face,” Ben shot back, his voice starting to be overtaken by mirth. He chortled as he continued.

“You got so pale!” he gasped. “Stars that was great!”

He turned back to the panels and began shifting the shuttle to its next heading, before he stopped and turned to Chaz again. It was almost like a horror holo, how small she was when she turned to look at him again; her face set in such a mature look it tore at his eyes to see it.

‘You’re such an idiot. Where were you?’

“Hey Chaz, I’m having trouble with my pulmonary system!” he gasped, hands going up to his throat, choked noises coming from his mouth.

[Chaz de Coventina]

"Oh choke on it, Merasska, I hope it's fatal," Chaz erupted with a sour expression, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff that was very nearly amused in it's indignity.

Ben's laughter grew more gleeful and she snorted.

"Let it be known," Chaz declared archly, "That I will be noting in the official mission log that you are an insupportable imbecile. Also relevant to your interests and general well-being is the fact that an equivalent retribution is in your very near future."