Novgorod: Quality Time

[Jaden Luka]

4th Fleet Headquarters
Moonus Mandel

Jaden growled at the unfamiliar bleeting that filled the darkness. At least, growling was the intention; what escaped from his throat was more of a disgruntled moan. At first his mind dismissed it as an alarm, intent on rousing him for duty. It could kriff the hell off, frankly; today was the second of four precious days of shoreleave, and he was intent on making the most of it, by spending as much of that time asleep as he possibly could. That was why he was here, like so many of the Novgorod's crew, making the most of the facilities at the Alliance 4th Fleet's planetary headquarters. If he remembered the orientation briefing correctly - which, giving how little attention he'd been paying at the time, he quite probably had not - this facility used to be a starport, and this particular wing of it was one of the on-site hotels that had provided accommodation to travellers on temporary visits to Moonus Mandel. When the Alliance had taken over the complex and converted it for military applications, this building had become temporary quarters for visiting officers: an availability that the crew on cramped ships like the Novgorod embraced at every opportunity.

It took a few moments longer for Jaden to realise that the digital chime was coming from the doorway, rather than the computer terminal. What the blazes was someone doing, buzzing on his door chime at this ungodly -

His eyes stared blearily at the chrono display on the room's modest desk.

- at this reasonable, and yet still too early for his liking hour?

Fuelled more by frustration than by genuine enthusiasm or energy, Jaden wrestled himself free from the mattress's gravitational field, and threw himself into motion, staggering awkwardly and largely undressed - save for a pair of sleep shorts and socks; no way he was walking around barefoot on dubious hotel carpets - towards the door.

The onslaught of light that surged into the darkened room as the door opened forced his face into a disgusted wrinkle. "What?" he grunted, trying to squint through the light and sleep to determine who had disturbed him.

[Sam Porter]

"Finally!"

The word was out of her mouth before the sight of the door-opener registered completely in her mind. Samantha Porter stared unashamedly at Jaden Luka, her eyes moving from his face to his chest, to his midsection, to his crotch, to his legs, then finally to his sock-covered feet before just as slowly traveling back upwards. It wasn't exactly the state of dress she'd expected to find him in. Of course, having to essentially close her eyes and point at Novgorod's duty roster hadn't been on her list of things to do today, anyway. With Regan otherwise occupied with the slew of repairs he'd been tasked with, Sam's options for getting out and about had become somewhat more of a headache. There was no way in the nine hells of Corellia that she was going to even entertain the notion of asking Felcher to be her escort. And MARCUS was right out as well.

And so, she'd settled for Luka.

But, looking at him now in all of his... 'glory', the blonde had to wonder if she'd made the right choice.

She made a face.

"You busy?"

[Jaden Luka]

Jaden stared back, an entirely blank expression draped across his face. Slowly, his gaze did what Porter's had done, peering down at himself and his state of undress, before returning to resume that same blank look. The muscles in his jaw slackened, mouth opening slightly as if some sort of sarcastic retort was about to escape. Yes, actually - I'm playing strip sabacc with the Defense Oversight Committee. Something like that. No words tumbled out though; his mouth closed itself, the awkward silence stretching out between them.

"I'm not wearing pants."

It was an odd mix of tones. Part of it was realisation. Part of it questioned whether Sam's question even needed asking. Of course he wasn't busy. What could he possibly be doing at this time of the morning that didn't require him to wear pants? What could -

He caught himself, a stray thought distracting him. He glanced over his shoulder, scrutinising the bed of his temporary quarters, making doubly sure that he didn't have company that he'd just completely forgotten about. It wouldn't have been the first time; fortunately, he seemed to have learned his lesson from that embarrassing little debacle, if the empty bed and the his-only clothes scattered haphazardly across the room was anything to go by.

He turned back to Sam, the blank stare returning for a moment. Maybe if he just stood here long enough, she'd just get confused and would wander away; leave him in peace to sleep. Probably not. A sigh escaped, his shoulders slumping as he took a step back and to the side, inviting her into his room. His eyes narrowed for a moment though, as another stray thought crept through his mind.

"Am I going to need pants for this?"

[Sam Porter]

She didn't exactly take the invite to come inside. Rather, Sam chose to half-step forward and plant herself in the threshold and lean against the door frame while being sure to maintain eye contact. One hand settled on her hip as she pulled an almost impatient face. What she knew of Jaden Luka was so very little. She'd seen him throughout the ship to be sure, but as far as actual interaction? Beyond a nod and nasty faces during briefings, that was about the long and short of her knowledge of the man. Gods she wished Regan wasn't so busy. She could already imagine dragging him to her quarters, hooking one leg...

The gangly blonde shook her head quickly, hoping to dispel the thought for a later, much more appropriate time. Like not now. Especially when being confronted by a man in his shorty shorts and...

... are those Hello Krayt Dragon socks?

A moment of jealousy. She wanted those socks. But, she forged on despite it all.

"Unless you want to have people staring at your saber and detonators, I suggest you do."

[Jaden Luka]

Did Jaden want that? The moment of thought that Jaden gave the notion was probably longer than it should be. He wasn't a show off, not really - no more than any other pilot, at least - but he wasn't exactly shy either. Modesty seemed pointless to him, something you only bothered with if you were working on social manoeuvres, trying to ingratiate yourself with people whose insecurities outweighed yours. Jaden was a talented pilot, and a not unattractive man by most metrics, and he saw no point in hiding either. If a situation gave you the opportunity to wander around wthout a shirt on, why the hell not? It was like paintwork on a starfighter - worst case it just looked good, and maybe there was a bit of a distraction bonus on top.

Of course, there were places where you didn't want to have your flight controls so readily on display. Social conventions, military protocol, all that stuff. For the lack of information Porter had provided so far, this could be anything from an impromptu meeting or briefing to social outreach from the crew wanting him to come hang out for drinks. He wasn't sure if the base here on Moonus Mandel had one of those Cizerack karraokje bars, but now Jaden was suddenly curious, and hopeful.

"Normal pants or fancy pants?" he grunted, beginning to pad around his room in search of clothes.

[Sam Porter]

"Fancy."

The notion of wearing anything fancy or 'proper' to one of the larger ronto markets on Moonus Mandel was silly, which was exactly why she opted for the option.

He at least didn't put up any resistance, which was good. Just the seemingly normal question of what clothes to wear. And she took it like a crazed anooba and ran with it.

Even though she herself wasn't exactly dressed to the nines, Sam had enough faith in the fact that her freshly pressed trousers and over-sized shirt (sneakily stolen from Regan's laundry bag) looked fresh enough.

[Jaden Luka]

Fancy pants. That didn't bode well. The best that Jaden could muster without returning to the ship was his duty blues, which weren't exactly fancy, but they were certainly less non fancy than the flight suit or sweat pants that were available from his array of discarded clothing, dispursed - for easy viewing and retrieval - across every available surface in his temporary room. His usual quarters would have looked like this as well, were it not for his neat freak wingman and bunkmate. Twitch had enigmatically informed him once that Verpines could see in ultra violet; Jaden hadn't quite understood the Lieutenant's meaning at the time, but hadn't interfered or protested Twitch's efforts to heep their cabin sanitised since.

"So what's the deal?" Jaden asked, consciousness and clear thought returning to him slowly. "What's so urgent that my shoreleave needs disturbing?"

[Sam Porter]

"Hey now," came the whined-but-not-really-whined protest.

"It's my shoreleave too, you know."

Sam hooked her thumbs into the belt loops of her pants.

"But I can't go anywhere less'n someone goes with, and since my normal ride is indisposed, you're the lucky winner."

And just to make sure that he had extra incentive...

"Better hurry though. I told the loadmaster that you had a few supply requisition forms for him to sign."

A look to the chrono on her wrist.

"He'll be along in, oh, about five minutes."

[Jaden Luka]

You devious witch.

If it were any other instance, Jaden would probably have been impressed at Porter's cunning strategy. Porter's need for a chaperone every time she was away from direct military scrutiny was something of a short-straw situation with the Novgorod crew. She seemed to have sunk her claws into poor Lieutenant Commander Altink, and the rest were mostly content to let him suffer through her company; but Jaden knew - because he'd approved the flimsiwork - that Regan was busy overhauling some sort of important mechanical gizmo, and had his hands too thoroughly full of starship parts to have them full of Sam Porter instead. On those rare occasions where they couldn't just allow Tink to take one for the team, Jaden usually relied upon one of the perks of seniority: delegation. If it weren't for that last little revelation, Jaden would have sent Porter off to go pester Mara Tallen, and then crawled back into bed.

But there was no way he was going to wait here for Felcher to arrive. Perhaps it was a bluff. Perhaps Porter was just playing him, manipulating Jaden into compliance. It wasn't worth the risk. Being trapped aboard a ship with Felcher was bad enough: Jaden would do anything to avoid that walking personification of smarm and irritation to encroach upon his downtime.

A pair of trousers were hastily tugged on; boots were grabbed, a shirt and a uniform jacket casually tossed over his shoulder. He'd dress on the way. In the corridor. In the elevator. Whatever. Arvel Felcher was Interdictor Cruiser of a man, and Jaden had absolutely no intention of getting ensnared by his tedium gravity wells.

"I will make you regret this," he promised with a quick glare in her direction, before he bustled past her through the door and out into the corridor. "But for now lets get as far away as we damn well can."

[Sam Porter]

A self-satisfied smirk as she damn near pranced along after him.

"Well, I just hope you'll make it good. Nothing better than vengeance in half-measures."

His pace seemed to quicken with each footfall, and Sam let her own long legs keep stride. It wasn't too terribly hard, all things considered. The rounded the first bend in the corridor, the lift only a short distance away now.

"You know, I'd kill for some ice cream while we're out."

A not-so-subtle hint given as they stepped through into the lift.

[Jaden Luka]

"Ice cream?" Jaden echoed, an eyebrow thoroughly quirked.

Despite the fact that he had just marched shirtless down the corridor, some strange subconscious urge forced him to wait until the elevator doors had slid closed before he continued getting dressed. A rueful smile was cast in Sam's direction, part-way between the arm holes, and the rest of the shirt being tugged over his head. He tried to resume it as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, which proved considerably harder than he expected, and had to be abandoned after several aborted attempts to put his hand in a pocket instead of a sleeve. He fumbled on the top half of his uniform as quickly as he could and, deciding to abandon his hidden meaning laden expression, dropped down into a squat against the elevator wall to awkwardly put on both boots at a time.

"This is starting -" he tried to say, his voice interrupted by pauses and strange grunts of effort as he fumbled with the boots' fastenings while taxing his leg muscles much more than he'd expected.

"- to sound -"

He slipped, shirt and jacket riding up a few inches, the cold metal of the elevator pressing against his skin. He ignored it, a sense of stubborn determination to complete the task he'd embarked on in the manner that he'd started kicking in.

"- an awful lot -"

Success. One boot tightened around his ankle, and then the other. A triumphant grin interrupted his words this time, as he hoisted his way awkwardly back to standing.

"- like a date, Miss Porter. I thought the rumour was that you and Commander Altink were the ones with extra-vocationals going on. I hope I'm not going to find myself on the wrong side of an angry engineer."

[Sam Porter]

Sam almost rolled her eyes. Almost.

"Hardly."

Stuffing her own hands into the pockets of her jeans, the blonde sent a somewhat perturbed look to the closed doors. Silence reigned between them for a few short minutes as they descended towards the belly of Novgorod. It was a ride that she'd become used to. Ever since being placed on this ship, she couldn't help but get acquainted with the creeping normalities of life aboard a starship. It wasn't bad, it was just different. And it was that that she found herself becoming accustomed to. Living on a ship was a far cry from using it as simple passage to get from point A to point B.

"Not a date, Sir. Just... babysitting duty."

Her voice held finality and a touch of grumbled reality as she let off a parting shot, her eyes never straying from the lift doors.

"I hear rumors too, you know."

[Jaden Luka]

Loose lips sink ships. Or at least, they were supposed to. That wasn't really how it seemed to work within the Alliance, though. Living on the raggedy edge, struggling for mere survival let alone for every single victory, freezing your balls off on Hoth or sweating a waterfall down your butt crack amongst the sands of Tatooine, rumour was something you clunk to with mynock-like intensity. Either you bunked up with someone out of a desperate desire for comfort, or you found your comfort living vicariously through the rumours of who had shacked up with who, and which risqué part of the ship or the base it had happened in. It was an essential part of what kept the Rebellion sane: those little romantic - or raunchy - distractions from the ticking clock that was your life expectancy.

When the Alliance had gone legitimate, fraternisation between officers had been a hot topic of debate. Back in the Republic, and even amongst the Empire, there had been strict rules to prevent it, restrict it, or at the very least firewall against any negative backlash against military operations. No one wanted anyone's judgement and objectivity called into question if their heart or their hoohah started making the decisions instead of their head. Back in the Judicial days of the Republic, no one served in the Senate's teeny tiny pre-war navy if they had any intentions of love or family; and the Empire just plain didn't care - they deprived their soldiers of far more pressing liberties than the opportunity to stick their dick in something. Besides, that's what shoreleave and waitresses and sexy Twi'lek slave dancers were for: the entire culture of the libido-driven soldier or pilot was a byproduct of those sorts of regulations.

For the Alliance though, those regulations were a danger. Prevent soldiers from being together, implement regulations to break apart the couples that had formed in those desperate times, and you'd lose a kriff-ton of your personnel overnight. It was a gravity slingshot that would hurl the hitched up wing-pairs off into space, and with all the conscientious objectors and the pissed off Alderaanians and Corellians and Ithorians and such that had stormed their way out of the Alliance ranks already, that was a loss that the Alliance military just couldn't endure. So anything went, more or less. Frak who you want, and frak who you like - the Alliance didn't care what you got up to.

Jaden didn't care; not really. He wasn't exactly the bragging sort when it came to his encounters with the fairer - or matching, for that matter - sex, because what happened behind closed doors should probably stay behind closed doors; but if people heard stuff, or worked out stuff, then whatever. He was secure enough in himself that he didn't really give a damn.

But then on the other hand, there was that mild bit of curiosity about what exactly it was people were saying about you; what exactly it was they knew. In the interests of intelligence gathering, part of Jaden's mind urged him to find out. But he couldn't exactly ask. That wasn't his style, and it'd give too much of the game away.

"Anything less than eight inches is a lie," he countered, with the most casual shrug he could muster, hoping that Porter wouldn't pass up the opportunity to rib him with a few more details.

[Sam Porter]

A ding!, and the lift slowed to a stop before opening the doors. Before them lay the barebones lobby-esque entry area of the officer's barracks, and Sam wasted little time in starting forward.

"Ain't got time to discuss the size of your pecker, Sir," came the dismissive shot fired from over her shoulder.

The pair made their way to the front doors.

"I just want some ice cream," she growled out, her mood suddenly very soured, "... and a look around at some of the swap meets on this floating bit of rock and dirt."

[Jaden Luka]

"You only say that because you haven't sampled," Jaden countered idly, but Sam's shift in emotion swept away any possibility of playful flirting that might have crept in. Not that Jaden would have gone down that path, even if the situation were viable: aside from the fact that Sam was a regular part of his team whenever Captain Quez asked him to take a little gun-toting stroll away from the ship, Jaden really was sure that there was something between the demolitionist and the chief engineer, and coming between that would betray moral principles more ancient than even the Jedi Order.

"Swap meat?"

Jaden injected a little incredulity into his tone, playing up some degree of faked ignorance.

"Is that some kind of bacon exchange or something? Because if there's bacon involved, I'm in."

He knew what a swap meet was, of course; or at least, understood the gist of it. He also understood Porter's reason for wanting to go: she had a habit of smuggling together components for her homebrewed explosive devices. No one was ever quite sure how she managed to get her hands on the parts - which made for some pretty frustrating and tense security briefings every now and again - but Jaden found himself confronted with a precarious situation. Not only had his missions benefited more than a little from Porter's improvisations; but it also seemed like letting her get her hands on some nicknacks and doodads was probably the best way to keep her from a bad mood... and it didn't take a genius to realise that an explosives expert in a bad mood was probably not something you wanted to keep around.

[Sam Porter]

Bursting out into the midday sunlight, Sam gave a sigh as she started off, her stride purposefully quick. It helped that - as some folks had often enough said - she was 'all legs'.

"No bacon," came the curt answer.

What else was there to say? She'd succeeded in pulling him out of the barracks, and that was good enough for now. A part of her hadn't really wanted to go out; she could've stayed in bed, piled under a mound of covers and clothes, but there were supplies to replenish, and if Sam wanted to continue being a necessary part of the crew (which ultimately led to a full pardon), she needed to restock. So in essence, it wasn't just for her, this little shopping trip. It was for everyone else.

"You might find some food speeders, but most of what they'll have will probably just be Ithorian tacos. At least, at most of the meets I go to that's what's there."

[Jaden Luka]

Ithorian tacos. It sounded like some sort of abomination. Weren't Ithorians all vegetarian? Or were they just space hippies? Jaden wasn't sure, and didn't really have the patience to subject himself to a conbersation with one to find out. It wasn't that he had a problem with Ithorians per se: Jaden was generally too laid back to have much of a problem with anyone, unless a specific someone gave him overwhelming reasons. But Ithorians? Maybe it was just his bad luck, but every single one that he'd met had been mind-numbingly boring. It made no sense. They had two mouths. How did they manage to not be inherently cool?

"Food speeders," Jaden muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets as he kept pace with Porter. At least she didn't dawdle; though why she was in such a hurry to get to wherever they were going, Jaden had no idea. She had mentioned ice cream, though. Jaden supposed that was as good a reason to swallow his reluctance and follow along as any.

"You're not exactly selling me on this date venue, Sam."

[Sam Porter]

"Well I'm not trying to," she snapped back.

The day was agonizingly pretty, the sun casting its' rays down upon a bustling populace. In her sour mood - getting more and more sour by the second thanks to Jaden Luka - it was all very frustrating to have to wade through. The constant background chatter of people holding conversation, the occasional laugh of a child as they were entertained by something or other. It all served as kindling to a simmering grumpiness. Add in the mouth that just wouldn't shut up, and Sam was at this point positive she was going to be thrown in the brig by the end of the day.

But, needs were still needs, and sometimes you had to do something you never really wanted to do in the first place, just to take a few more steps down that long road to a clean slate.

She led them through a thoroughfare, then down a side walkway lined with rows of vendors, mostly selling pastries and breads. At least the smell was nice; it reminded her of the second family she'd been placed with, and the fresh bread that was always baked on the weekends. She'd been young, maybe eight years old at best, but she was still fond of those memories. The blonde thought about stopping by one of the baker stalls for a fresh namana butter biscuit, but opted to keep on.

Then again, if her unofficial babysitter in this whole endeavor wasn't given some sort of tax for being dragged out of bed, there might not be a next time (god forbid), that Regan was unable to accompany her.

She angled to the side, out of the way of a stream of bodies trying to pass.

"If you're hungry, we can get something here. Biscuit, roll, scone... "

A gag?

[Jaden Luka]

Jaden wasn't listening. Not because he was deliberately ignoring Sam - something he would be very eager to stress if either Sam or Internal Affairs confronted him about it - but because he was distracted. For once in his life though, the distraction had nothing to do with the attractive curves of a passing woman; though it did have something to do with ample buns that looked warm and firm, and that he was desperate to wrap his mouth around.

He'd seen a lot of the galaxy over the years, but it wasn't until he'd left Imperial service that he actually got to see a lot of the galaxy. Aside from the fact that it was awkward as hell to browse from inside the helmet of Scout Trooper armour, the Empire hadn't exactly allowed him to go sightseeing in places like this. Yeah, there were markets and things on Naboo that you could sneak off to on your downtime, but even in plain clothes, the locals always seemed to spot an Imperial when they saw one. Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe it was why the garrison he'd served with had been made up of offworlders instead of locals. He supposed that made you less likely to sympathise with the locals; made it less likely that potential Rebels might sneak their way into the local militia to tear down the Empire from the inside. Maybe it was just because the Empire was ruled by assholes, and they liked playing games with people.

As the pilot of a cosy little Corellian transport though, Jaden had got to see this side of the galaxy occasionally. He'd walked the starport markets, seen all the people trying to flog local trinkets to tourists, seen all the weird and wonderful things that people on the Outer Rim liked to deep fry and serve on sticks. One time he'd walked through a place that sold carbonite busts of various Separatist leaders. He still had the comedically stern bust of Count Dooku kicking around in his personal effects somewhere. Usually Jaden's willpower was strong enough to avoid giving in to those kinds of temptations, but he did have one weakness: bread.

Bread was weird. It was the great cultural unifier. No matter where you went in the galaxy, no matter what race you encountered, no matter their cultural background, there was always some sort of bread product in their cultural cuisine. At some point in the history of every single planet, someone worked out that you could smash seeds with a rock, mix it with water, and break it into a lump of edible tastiness. Perhaps it was just gluttony, but to Jaden it had turned into a weird cultural insight. What unique variation on that classic formula could be found on this world? What section of the colour spectrum did the crushed grain occupy: a pale white, a hearty brown, the faint green of algae bread from Mon Calamari, the disconcerting but oddly tasty purple stuff from that time on Christophsis? How was it presented: a bun, a loaf, a loop, a long stick, twisted into some kind of fancy pattern, stuffed with chunks of local fruits or meats, or formed into the shape of humanoid genitalia for culturally significant reasons that Jaden still didn't really understand? How would it taste: sweet, savoury, buttery, spicy, awkwardly like the cleaning fluid used to strip corrosion from starfighter parts, or something new?

Completely oblivious to the question that Sam had asked, Jaden beckoned her over to stand behind him in the misshapen blob of people trying and failing to be a queue, fidgeting awkwardly like an impatient child. Finally the crowd-queue dispersed enough for Jaden to step up to the counter. Mathematics already run in his mind, Jaden slapped the appropriate number of credit chits onto what turned out to be the awkwardly sticky counter top.

"Give me one of everything. All of your breads."

[Sam Porter]

She had fallen in 'line' behind him, standing semi-patiently for whatever she imagined he would order. If she was lucky it would be something like a wampaclaw that was as big as his head so he'd spend all of his time eating and not trying to talk. The milling bodies around them were ever-changing; thinning at some points, then swelling up once more. It was the normal way of things, and Sam terated that bit of awareness like most everything else - with half a measure of disinterest. It wasn't anything to get fascinated over, it was just something to exist alongside. It was the set dressing for the main attraction, really. The main attraction being the haggling, and eventual gloating over some seemingly inconsequential bit of... something. Though, that 'something' was in her mind often necessary and needed. The secondary cheater coils from a toaster? Need. The toggle switches from a busted hand drill? Need. The plastic case from an old portable holoprojector? Need. She needed it all.

And the inside of her quarters was evidence of that bizarre need. Oh, she threw things out to be sure; many times she'd made trips to the garbage compactor on Novgorod, dragging large black bags behind her.

But now was one of those times when she suffered for the greater good. And when Jaden Luka ordered one of everything offered on the menu, Sam Porter gave him an unseen, open-mouthed stare.

Her voice came out in a tone of amusement and disbelief.

"When was the last time you ate?!"