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2 yrs ago
built like a truck and out for revenge

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Anger flashed across Itxaro’s face when another communication came in, this time from Mallory, and she felt a familiar temper flare in her belly. So excited to show their force. As if that will help. She wasn’t eager for another standoff.

“One second, sorry,” Itxaro said apologetically, almost sweetly to Gar’Tan and the others before stepping away, as if that would sever the mind link they shared. “Mallory, listen,” Itxaro began into her comm link, “We are all playing nice here, but it is a very precarious situation. If you come out here waving your fucking guns around, it will not end well. Meet us out here if you want, but for our sake, leave the goddamn goon squad behind.” Itxaro looked pleadingly to Vigdis, hoping the engineer would back her up on this, but she had a feeling she’d have to stand alone here. To turn away now that they’d just established communications, and instead put guns on them, would be the diplomatic equivalent of a middle finger. She idly wondered where the commander was. At least she knows not bringing a gun to the negotiating table. I think. Why isn’t she out here?

Itxaro turned back to the alien visitors, her skin visibly flushed. “Sorry, sorry. Everyone is very excited to meet you. Where were we?”
Itxaro had never had her mind read before, but she expected... More, somehow.

There was no sensation of another consciousness probing her mind, simply an intrusive thought that came to Itxaro in her own internal monologue. Hell, it was even in Spanish. But the subtlety also scared her. She had no way of knowing how deep he was delving into her memory, no idea what he was doing to her, and ultimately, Itxaro had no means of defense against him. She realized she was totally at this S'tor's mercy, so it was best to play along. Itxaro really hoped he wasn't reading into her political predictions of a few hours ago, otherwise things might turn south very quickly. She shifted her weight from one foot to another uneasily.

Gar'Tan went through the introductions of all the aliens present; she'd known their names before, but not the titles each carried. Seeker of the Order of Sages. Castigator for the Order of Magisters. Itxaro didn't know exactly what they meant, but they certainly sounded lofty. Even though she wasn't speaking directly to them, the engineer felt like she knew them better now. A barrier had been broken.

"I'm Dr. Itxaro Ibarra. It's so nice to finally speak with you all," Itxaro began excitedly in Spanish. "I'm sorry about our first meeting. We were a little afraid, and we've been through a lot to get here. Plus, you're all, ehm... Much larger than us."

Mercifully, Vigdis arrived, giving Itxaro some measure of reassurance. Her mind was still buzzing frantically, halfway between panic and exhilaration, but she managed to blurt out a few words to the engineer, switching to English. "Vigdis, this is our new friend Gar'Tan. He can read minds. He's reading my mind right now, and probably yours." A shiver ran through her body. "We're going to speak out loud, and he's going to, ehhh, translate for us?" Itxaro looked to Gar'Tan for confirmation.

A voice came over her comms. Ezra. Itxaro wanted to scream a litany of obscenities at him, but she managed an overly sweet, "We're fine Ezra, just speaking with a new arrival. They're very polite." She'd been fiddling with a loose cigarette in her pocket, and now she was grinding it into powder.

Gar'Tan communicated a message from Kerchek, offering medical assistance. Itxaro wondered just how helpful an alien would be during surgery on human organs, but then she recalled that many, if not all, of these natives had some form of magic. So there was that. "Thank you, Kerchek, for your generous offer. I'll speak to our ship's doctor to see what you can do to help." It was a textbook example of kicking the can down the road, but she thought it was an oratory masterstroke for someone teetering on the edge of hyperventilating.

"I guess we'd better get on the same wavelength. Right, Vigdis?" She turned to her fellow engineer and gave a slight smile, her mouth tight.

With that, Itxaro launched into a bit of a nervous tirade.

"I don't know how much got through with my little light show before, so I'll just run through it again," she started, blowing a strand of white hair from her face. "We're called humans. We come from a planet we call Earth. We're the only sentient species on our planet, and for a long time we thought we were the only ones anywhere. Guess you guys don't have that question, right?" She laughed nervously. "Anyways, so yeah, um, then these aliens showed up, they're called the Yenge. They taught us how to fly to different planets that are very far away. I was pretty close to figuring that out anyways though."

Itxaro paused and took a breath. She was rambling, and had to catch herself. Speaking to a lecture hall of 20-something university students didn't set her nerves off, but there was something just slightly unnerving about her current crowd. She let Gar'Tan translate, then continued. That the S'tor's translations might be flawed didn't even enter the equation for her.

"We built this ship to leave our planet and explore. We call it the Jotunheim. I don't know what that means either. Problem is, we were attacked by other humans who wanted the ship, those puntas fucked us up good, and then we crashed here. On Kanth-Aremek. Now, we're just trying to get home." The words all spilled out in one quick stream, and Itxaro inhaled deeply. She paused, thinking of what to say next. What she wanted to know differed greatly from the rest of the crew, and she knew it, so Itxaro tried to ask something pertinent. She still wanted to know if there was a socialist utopia somewhere on Kanth-Aremek, but figured it could wait for another time.

"So! Now we want to ask you some things. Mind if I take notes?" Itxaro produced her datapad, ready to type any answers that Gar'Tan sent through the ether into her brain. Her anxiety was now being edged out by curiosity, and she felt her body relaxing ever so slightly. "First order of business is... And Vigdis, feel free to chime in, Silbermine and his friends. What's the deal there? I'm guessing you don't trust them, and you think we shouldn't either. It seems like everything is resolved though, right? Also, how far is this city, Lenkik, and who runs it? I'd like to see it, I think."

She directed her questions to the group, but was particularly interested in Shirik and Nellara's response, who had both seemed ready to come to blows with the Glenn. J'eon, too, had been standoffish during the encounter. She thought the second question was innocent enough, but hoped it would provide them with some pertinent political background.

"Oh, and Shirik, don't think just because Gar'Tan is here that you're off the hook. I still want to learn your language," Itxaro said something approaching a real smile this time, not the strained rictus from before.
Itxaro stumbled from her bunk, bleary-eyed and aching. She wasn't sure if it was the excitement of the previous day, breathing highly oxygenated air, or some combination of the two, but she finally gave up trying to sleep. Looking at the other crewmembers crammed into the bedroom now rising like resurrected corpses for the next shift, she suspected the whole ship was beginning to suffer from some degree of sleep deprivation.

Itxaro's mind went out, came back, and went out again like a ranging dog. I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day, she mused weirdly, unsure of the sentence's provenance. Itxaro's first thoughts after waking were often confusing and disjointed. But the thoughts that came to her in the restless sleep were not.

She had flung herself about the cramped bunk in the darkness, thinking of home. Not particularly missing it; she wouldn't trade meeting aliens for all the comforts on Earth. No, she'd been thinking about what home's response would be to the discovery of a lush planet filled with sentient, magic life. It didn't take long for Itxaro to determine what the capitalist countries and corporations would do. Exploitation at best. Slavery at worst. What else could they do? That's all they know.

Itxaro shuffled from room to room, searching for an open shower. Bathroom for every cabin. Who the hell designed this ship? She slipped into the rec room, found an unoccupied shower, and hurriedly stripped and jumped in before anyone could steal it from her.

It was easy for Itxaro to predict what the rest of humanity, in her mind, would do. The real question for the engineer was how her own country would respond, and this question tortured her all night as she ran through the possibilities. Like the island nation it grew from, the USASR was a one-party state, almost a given with any socialist country. However, if that had been intended to create a unified government, it failed miserably. The Politburó was fractured into a dozen or more shifting factions, all vying for power to enact their policies.

Even though she was expecting it, the blast of cold water elicited a sharp yelp from Itxaro. She scrubbed quickly, knowing she only had a limited amount of time before the water shut off, or she was interrupted by another morning riser.

The Marxist-Leninist-Bazánists, the dominant faction, would advocate for the isolation of Kanth-Aremek
at all costs, even if it meant violence with other humans. Or so Itxaro suspected. This faction had not forgotten the damage done by early colonizers to the Americas, and would seek to spare this new world the same fate. Might be too late for that. Furthermore, the old-school among them would state that even if they did interact with the aliens, they were far too primitive for a socialist revolution. She recalled that Lenin stated the Russian Empire was not ready for a revolution in 1917, and Itxaro guessed Kanth-Aremek was far from reaching even that level of development.

Only marginally cleaner than she'd been moments before but now wide awake, Itxaro stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel before heading to the laundry room around the corner, metal icy cold against her bare feet.

The trade unionists would advocate for trade, what else? An exchange between Kanth-Aremek and the USASR, trying to edge out the other human nations with favorable deals. Increase the industrialization of Kanth-Aremek, develop infrastructure and their economic capacity to both decrease their exploitation and accelerate the growth of the proletariat, thus speeding up the socialist revolution that was inevitable in all societies. So they say. Itxaro feared the rapid industrialization of what she assumed was a medieval world would result in an incredibly warped society.

Itxaro quickly changed into the thick, baggy coveralls she'd cleaned the previous night with a concoction of the science team, a boric acid wash meant to make fabric resistant to combustion in Kanth-Aremek's atmosphere. Or at least buy you some time to rip the burning garment off. They felt stiff and heavy, and weren't as strong as the flash suits they had in limited supply, but she supposed it was better than catching on fire.

It was the Neo-Maoists who worried Itxaro the most, though. They were a relatively small faction growing smaller, their beliefs now outdated on an entirely developed Earth, but they led a large alliance within the Politburó, and possessed an ideology that could be dangerously applicable to Kanth-Aremek. The Neo-Maoists believed that industrialization and a proletariat wasn't necessary for a revolution, that Mao himself had toppled the old regime using a vanguard of pre-industrial peasants instead. They would likely deploy agitators to instigate an insurrection against whatever powers controlled Kanth-Aremek, try to topple the local governments, and install those loyal to the glorious people's revolution at the top. Then, they could wage yet another war against the human occupiers, effectively turning the whole planet into a warzone.

Every scenario Itxaro had thought of last night ended in warfare and bloodshed. She felt deep in her gut that neither the USASR nor Kanth-Aremek could ever come out on top against the forces stacked against them. They'd have better luck trying to stop the tide from coming in.

Itxaro tugged her chunky boots on, shifting uncomfortably in her attire. She hated the drab clothes with a passion, yearning for something vibrant and exciting, but it would have to do. The engineer headed to the shuttle bay, preferring to work through her restlessness rather than toss and turn.


She was about halfway to her destination when a frazzled crewman came sprinting down the corridor, wild-eyed and out of breath. "Itxaro! Bird! Your name... Gotta find Vigdis... Fucking lizard!" The man dashed off, leaving Itxaro to puzzle together his manic fragments. She started to the shuttle again, double time.

Itxaro peaked over the barricade that spanned the shuttle bay ramp and recognized several familiar aliens through the transparent plastic, along with a new one. Fucking lizard! She fell off the barricade in surprise and landed on the deck painfully, then scrambled back to her feet to vault over the barricade and slide through a flap in the plastic sheeting. She hadn't expected yet another species on the planet, bringing the total up to four. There was also something that looked like Shirik, only it wasn't... Burning. The lizard creature stood closest to her. This must be the one they've been trying to get here. During their translation session, Shirik had tried to explain in their rudimentary tongue why they needed them, but the meaning eluded Itxaro. S'tor read think, speak, talk. It was difficult to picture the giant dragon before her, S'tor she assumed, as a scholar, but that was all that came to mind from Shirik's explanation; perhaps a linguist of some sort? Surely this planet had more than one language.

Itxaro greeted each member of the party in the local dialect, before reaching the dragon. "Hello, S'tor," Itxaro finished with a slight bow. The gesture seemed to work with the Glenn, so she stuck with it. "Itxaro," she said, pointing to herself. "Friends, all," she added, opening her arms to them. Itxaro was skeptical how much help a native translator would be. They'd been getting along at a decent pace before, she considered a little egotistically, but the aliens seemed adamant that this towering lizard was necessary.

Read think, speak, talk. What's that mean? He gonna read my mind? Itxaro considered with a slight grin. Then she thought back to the Iriad's fire drawings, showing all of the magical abilities they possessed, and more. One depiction in particular stuck out in her memory. Oh fuck, he's gonna read my mind.

She turned to the barricade and hissed to the crewman on the other side, "Get Mallory! Get Eva too! Now! There's a lizard!" Itxaro turned back to the party and smiled nervously, searching her deep pockets for any more party favors but only finding loose cigarettes and no lighter. Even in her frantic state, Itxaro was pleased to see Kareet using the notebook and pen, and wondered how the studious Tekeri was enjoying The Years of Revolution. Then she remembered that the paper could spontaneously combust in the atmosphere, destroying all of Kareet's notes and her loaned book. Gonna have to fix that after this clusterfuck.

Itxaro continued to stall, trying to pump them for information. "S'tor read think..." she struggled to remember the native word. Her tongue felt too heavy and slow for the quick native language. "Head. Question?" Since it was difficult for humans and Kanth-Aremek natives to read eachother's intonations that could suggest a question, Shirik and Itxaro used the word "question" to indicate that something was indeed a query. She pointed to her head for added effect, not knowing if they understood that the brain is the center of cognition. Why am I the only idiot out here?
@Master Crim Hello! Let the record show I think both of these ideas for a character are really good. Some kind of biologist would be really useful in learning more about the native wildlife and the source of magic on the planet. Hope you sign on!
I got an idea for what she would hate the Sith. The thing the stormtroopers were guarding was some kind of Sithspawn that was being housed at the site for experimentation and was released as a last resort and your char would find out what it was in the aftermath and how it relates to the Sith. How does that sound?

Yeah the wiki used to have a list of force powers and now it is gone for some reason and you have to dig to find stuff. The core your should have is telekinesis, force speed, force sense, force jump, I think force healing. I might be missing one but, these your char should have.


Ooh I like that a lot, good idea! And yeah, I remember the wiki being laid out differently when it came to the force powers, very weird change. Also, I just finished my character sheet, let me know if there are any other issues, thanks!

Being a New Republic deserter in the New Jedi Order will cause problems, mainly the relationship between the Order and the New Republic. You can say she left the New Republic after the Valdont. That and there being a legion of sith apprentices is very unlikely, so how about removing that bit?


Lol yeah I definitely got hyperbolic there with the legion, how about like... A Sith lord and their apprentice? Basically just need an excuse for her to hate the Sith, something for her to overcome in training. Totally down with deleting any metion of Sith tho. Also, removed the deserting aspect!

As an aside, you mentioned they should have the core Force abilities, but which ones are included in this? Not entirely sure, thanks!
Hello! Throwing my interest in. Character sheet isn't complete yet, so forgive any errors, but let me know if anything in the history section rubs you the wrong way. Thanks!

Regime Goon and Blizz


Itxaro had to stop herself from shrieking with delight when she caught Silbermine's golden band, her hands eagerly working over the artifact to explore the item's craftsmanship. She managed to keep her composure. It wasn't so much the value of the object - Itxaro had never been one for jewelry or trinkets - but what it meant. The first exchange of gifts between humans and aliens, and she'd been part of it. Looking up, Silbermine seemed just as enamored with his gift. The cheap pens could hardly compare to the handcrafted ring she held in her prosthetic hand, but nonetheless, they seemed impressed. She bowed gratefully to the Glen before following Zey back to the ship. The tension between the natives still worried Itxaro, and she suspected this wasn't the end of the conflict. She studied the gift once more before wearing it proudly on her bicep, feeling like ancient royalty. "Could have gone worse, right?"


Itxaro was still reeling from the whirlwind of activity to contribute much during the staff meeting. Their situation, already precarious, was becoming even more so as the hours passed. Priorities were shifting from just repairing the ship to defense, long-term supply issues, and negotiations with the natives. Itxaro didn't mention they might not be able to return home even if the standard engines were repaired, given the sorry state of the FTL drive. Problem for another time. Aside from voicing support for the various plans crew members proposed, the engineer remained uncharacteristically silent.

Meeting adjourned, Itxaro joined Vigdis and the other engineers in the shuttle bay to patch up the hull. It’d been a while since she'd used a plasma cutter, but her quick hands flew about their work, still remembering the motions. She cleaned up the ragged edges of the hull breach, allowing Vigdis to seal it up with the pre-cut sheet metal. The manual labor was a far cry from crunching numbers on theoretical FTL drives, and frankly, Itxaro welcomed the change. It was something real, something tangible. That, and it allowed her mind to wander, turning the day's events over in her head. Sentient life form was big, but magic? Really? She kept flipping up her welding mask to look at the natives in the distance as if to reassure herself the whole day hadn't been a fever dream, and she wasn't comatose in the ship's medbay.

After hefting up the sheet metal while Vigdis welded them into place, Itxaro, now sweaty and exhausted, quietly slipped out of the shuttle bay to end her shift early. The hull now sealed, she figured they wouldn't miss her too sorely. If not, she'd probably be chewed out. I've been chewed out before. Fuck it. Rather than scour the ship's guts splicing wires together, Itxaro assigned herself a new task. She scrounged for what she thought she needed and set out to find Shirik.


Itxaro found Shirik at the native's camp, a short walk from the Jo's crash site. She carried a bag slung over her shoulder and set it down before the Iriad. "Gifts," she explained with a small grin. She'd been worried that the first natives might have been offended they didn't get a trinket like the Glen, so she'd brought along a few party favors. Itxaro opened the bag and set her offerings out. A simple combat knife for Nellara, who she assumed was some kind of soldier; the knife, oversized in human hands, would be closer to a letter opener for the massive Tekeri. Two blank journals, bound in durable plastic, for Kareet and Kolvar, along with pens. They seemed more scholarly than the others, and she'd seen one scribbling on paper during their interactions, so it seemed like a fitting gift. She also included her personal, beat-up copy of The Years of Revolution, an early history of the USASR written in Spanish and heavily annotated by Itxaro. She doubted they'd be able to read it anytime soon, but it was the thought that counted. She wasn't sure what to give J'eon, though. He seemed somehow different from the others. Itxaro noticed the anvil medallion he wore, and managed to slip a ball peen hammer out of the machine shop that probably wouldn't be missed.

"Gifts," Itxaro repeated, sweeping her arm over the items now on display. She reached into her pocket and produced her electric arc lighter, fully charged. She pulled a page from one of the empty journals and lit it as a quick demonstration. The paper smoldered quickly and fell into the wind. "For you," she said, handing the lighter to Shirik. Been meaning to quit smoking anyways.

The two sat in the soft moss and continued where they had left off, expanding their shared language. They still relied on Itxaro's datapad and Shirik's patience, but now free from the previous session's stresses, the two were able to establish something akin to real communication. Yes, no, the idea of a question, some verbs, and a plethora of nouns. She made sure that there was no one-way translation, with Shririk understanding the English version and Itxaro the Kanth-Aremek version. It was tedious, sometimes frustrating work, but rewarding nonetheless. She supposed the ship AI, keyed in to her datapad, could have accelerated the process, but frankly she didn't trust the semi-sentient machine.

Between translations, Shirik would spread their hands between the two, and draw flaming shapes in the air to help depict things easier. Eventually, depictions became written, bilingual script in both of their languages. Shirik would further portray what sentences they both formed in the other’s tongue with moving images. The sentence, “House Silbermine wants Jotunheim,” for example, was depicted by several Glen drawn in flame, picking up the ship and carrying it away from the “Sky People.”

During their translation attempts, Shirik made no attempts to speak to Ixtaro in the same way they spoke to Nellara earlier, or the Glen knights who appeared with ill intent. Shirik was about as calm as one could imagine a being made of fire could manage.

Itxaro felt strangely comfortable in the alien's presence, free from the human prejudices that she felt aboard the Jotunheim. Any quirks or eccentricities she had, Itxaro assumed, would be chalked up to typical behavior by the locals. As the sun began to set, Itxaro stood, stretching her long limbs, and smiled at the Iriad. "Thank you, Shirik. Tomorrow, more talk?" She asked in her rough dialect.

Shirik nodded. ”Yes. Tomorrow. Find me. We will speak more.” They said, speaking in human language in a way that seemed like they weren’t actively trying to sound fluent. Having learned multiple languages over the last millennia, it wasn’t entirely difficult to pick up one more.

When Ixtaro left, Shirik put up the hood of their cloak, and clasped their hands together. Iriad did not sleep, ordinarily. Shirik, however, did not enter the usual hibernation state that most of their kind did. Dim flames began to spread across the ground, faint like old candles. Shirik’s head tilted downwards, and they entered a dormant state. The flames did not burn anything, but they simply existed around Shirik. To the humans, this would have seemed like sleeping, though it was not.

Itxaro fell into her bunk, feeling the warmth from the previous occupant. The room was dark and filled with the sound of shallow breathing from sleeping crew, but faint blue light bathed Itxaro’s face as she opened her datapad. She shared the first edition of the English-Alien Dictionary, complete with a rudimentary pronunciation guide for each word and an alphabet, on the ship's network for her crewmembers to review. 80 words. Not a bad start, she mused. Itxaro also compiled a brief report to Zey, filling her in on what Shirik had said. House Silbermine wants Jotunheim. Despite her exhaustion, it was a long time before sleep found her.
Itxaro and Zey made the long walk to meet the new arrivals. The landscape was nothing new to the engineer, but she took it in with eager eyes nonetheless; there was nothing like this untamed wilderness left on Earth, unmarred by human touch. Aside from the scorched grass crumbling in the wind, it felt pure. As the two strode down the steep hill, electricity crept up Itxaro's spine. Not fear this time, but excitement. She felt like a medieval knight, seeking to parley with her enemies on the battlefield to prevent Christian blood from being spilled. Then again, she wasn't Christian, and she was fairly certain the Glen weren't either. All the same, she hoped to avert conflict.

As they approached, Nellara held up a hand to the two. "Wait. Enemies." The commander breezed past her though, and Itxaro followed, giving the Castigator an exaggerated shrug. She knew Zey was right, though. They might be Nellara's enemies, but the humans didn't need to share that animosity. For all we know, our new friends aboard the Jotunheim might be thieves and killers. She doubted this, but they had barely exchanged thirty words, all told. Not nearly enough to know them, or their intentions. No, it was best to see all the angles before planting their flag on any side.

The two women stood before the Glen, the equine warriors towering over them like fabled storybook beasts. Itxaro didn't often look up to meet another's gaze, but had to quite often with the giant inhabitants of this planet. The air was thick with tension, and she knew one wrong move from any party could end in bloodshed. Already the natives were speaking to each other in raised tones; Itxaro absently wondered how they could even understand each other, their voices so different. Kareet closed in behind her, and she wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or threatened by their hovering presence and blood-red eyes, so Itxaro chose the former.

Then, the Glen at the head of the group stepped forward. Itxaro understood this Glen was important, or at least thought he was important. His armor and weaponry were both brilliant, and Itxaro couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship. He addressed the two humans in a lengthy introduction. Itxaro had no idea what he said, and she assumed the Glen knew this. Perhaps it was just tradition, like the gesture he performed. It was a stark contrast from the rocky meeting with the first group, instead a greeting practiced and honed over a lifetime at a royal court. From the emphasis placed on the word, Itxaro guessed his name was Silbermine. Not wanting to offend or disappoint, Itxaro stepped forward before her commander tore the gun from her belt and let daylight shine through his shining breastplate.

"Hail and well met, sir Silbermine of the Glen," Itxaro began, returning his gesture, "I am Dr. Itxaro Ibarra, of the United South American Socialist Republic of Earth. This," she continued, flourishing a hand towards Zey, "is our leader, Commander Zeynap Kadıoğlu of the Jotunheim." Itxaro spoke in Spanish, but any native words she was able to pepper in were pronounced with an Iriad or Tekeri accent. "We thank you for your hospitality, and we hope to become your friends with these gifts." She provided the three nearest to her with simple, engraved metal pens, favoring her organic hand. The pens disappeared into the metal gauntlets, so she took this as a good sign.

Aside from a few choice words, Itxaro knew the Glen wouldn't understand any of it; to anyone in the crowd who could understand it, the reply's content was ridiculous. But it was the manner in which she spoke, with confidence and regal cadence, that was important. If Silbermaine was considered nobility, then it would be prudent to meet him at a similar level.

"I hope that we can become great allies. If not, we will glass your continent from orbit and render it uninhabitable for ten thousand years," she finished reverently in her native tongue, with a slight bow for good measure.

Itxaro glanced at her commander. "What? They might know Spanish. Doesn't hurt to try," Itxaro offered as a quiet aside as she waited for the Glen's response. She could feel the eyes on her, but she didn't waver under their gaze.
Itxaro chuckled weakly at Vigdis’ joke; she could feel her facade cracking as her frenetic energy crept into her eyes, and suspected that Vigdis had picked up on this, trying to soothe her with humor. She was embarrassed, but grateful nonetheless. Itxaro trusted the engineer more than anyone on the ship at the moment, which granted wasn’t much, and if she was going to crack up in front of anyone she was glad it was her.

Still, Itxaro was surprised no one accompanied the commander out to greet the new arrivals. She sat down on one of the crates, weighing her options. She didn’t feel much loyalty to the commander, but Itxaro knew that if she let her go alone and something happened to Zey, she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself. Itxaro already had too many memories of shame, the kind that still made her break into a sweat and tighten up around the throat as she lay in bed. She didn’t have much use for one more. The pitched battle of cowardice and courage raging inside her finally came to an end for the time being.

“Guess I better go find out,” Itxaro replied to Vigdis, hopping off her thinking crate. She quickly grabbed the box of metal pens, a meager offering to their new acquaintances, and followed the commander through the breach.
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