- Joined
- Mar 9, 2015
- Messages
- 213
- Reaction score
- 15
Yep. Makework.
Sidrin was going to be a master of Sith makework. Keep the busybody acolyte tied up with pointless jobs, and he couldn't bother anybody else trying to get better at his job or accomplish anything. When he wasn't training, he was looking for work, or some way to distinguish himself. Now that he was Sith, being the gray man wasn't good any longer. He had to be better than the rest, or he would stay an acolyte until someone killed him. The only way the Draethos knew to get better, was to go out and do the job. Training only got you so far.
But so far the job was just search and rescue, intel gathering, security patrols. Not that he minded, he had and could do all those things well, but good god he was supposed to be off scragging Jedi, not humping snowballs looking for a wiped out scout craft.
At least he'd been issued a ship, if only for the mission, and with express instruction to return it unscathed.
The Icarus class hummed low over a glacier, in the capable hands of a droid. Sidrin could pilot most ground based speeders, and even small rock hopping drop ships, but he preferred to leave flight for the robots. His skills were better placed elsewhere, and he sat in the sensor suite, glancing at the screens when not lost in a meditative funk. His senses were elsewhere, reaching out beyond the Icarus to find... Anything really.
His comm channel flickered open, the droid at the helm contacting him, advising him he had an incoming message.
"Ah yes, that would be our babysitter." He'd been informed he wouldn't be undertaking this venture alone, and he could expect contact shortly after arrival. "Patch it through."
@Andrewza
Sidrin was going to be a master of Sith makework. Keep the busybody acolyte tied up with pointless jobs, and he couldn't bother anybody else trying to get better at his job or accomplish anything. When he wasn't training, he was looking for work, or some way to distinguish himself. Now that he was Sith, being the gray man wasn't good any longer. He had to be better than the rest, or he would stay an acolyte until someone killed him. The only way the Draethos knew to get better, was to go out and do the job. Training only got you so far.
But so far the job was just search and rescue, intel gathering, security patrols. Not that he minded, he had and could do all those things well, but good god he was supposed to be off scragging Jedi, not humping snowballs looking for a wiped out scout craft.
At least he'd been issued a ship, if only for the mission, and with express instruction to return it unscathed.
The Icarus class hummed low over a glacier, in the capable hands of a droid. Sidrin could pilot most ground based speeders, and even small rock hopping drop ships, but he preferred to leave flight for the robots. His skills were better placed elsewhere, and he sat in the sensor suite, glancing at the screens when not lost in a meditative funk. His senses were elsewhere, reaching out beyond the Icarus to find... Anything really.
His comm channel flickered open, the droid at the helm contacting him, advising him he had an incoming message.
"Ah yes, that would be our babysitter." He'd been informed he wouldn't be undertaking this venture alone, and he could expect contact shortly after arrival. "Patch it through."
@Andrewza