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He sets the datapad down, bypassing his glass to go straight for the bottle of Sunny’s. “Stars above. You’re telling me you boarded it? That’s insane, even for a Jedi.”
You shrug, lips twitching into a cocky grin as you recall the memory of choking on your own blood. “We needed answers, and someone had to do it."
Pip gives a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve got guts. Or you’re just mad. Either way…”
He trails off, shaking his head as his gaze drifts back towards the datapad. “Whatever this thing is, it’s miles ahead of anything I’ve ever seen. But whatever built this didn’t just stumble onto spaceflight – this is artistry. Everything I’ve seen speaks of an intelligent design, a shipwright weaving flesh and sinew no differently than I would manipulate steel and wiring. And if there’s one of these…”
He lets the sentence hang, the unspoken implication heavy in the air.
“But you mentioned something about your people’s records?” you interject, grasping at it like a lifeline. “If there’s a way that I could get access to them, or speak to somebody…”
Pip’s expression hardens, his usually bright demeanor eclipsed by something colder and sharper. For the first time since you’ve met him, unbridled disgust seeps into his voice. “There’s only two fleets that might have that information within their extensive records – <span class="mu-s">Grimlight</span> and <span class="mu-s">Starsong</span>. But you’d have better luck drawing blood from a stone than dealing with either of them.”
He leans back into his seat, the tension in his posture palpable. “Adacap Rast is secretive to the point of isolationism, even among other fleets of the Chain. They hoard their knowledge, even from their supposed allies. You could have the entirety of the Tof Armada breathing down their necks, and they still wouldn’t share a scrap of intel.”
His lips curl into a sneer as he continues. “As for Adacap Karling…his fleet’s history isn’t worth a damn unless it’s tracking down notable ancestors of potent Force-sensitivity to arrange marriages among themselves. Their records are less about the preservation of history much as it is the propagation of their breeding programs. If there’s anything buried in their archives, it’s buried beneath centuries of self-serving drivel that’s since reduced their own people to livestock.”
The venom in his tone catches you off guard, but it’s clear that his grievances run deep. You tread carefully. “Sounds like you’ve had your share of dealings with them.”
The shipwright doesn’t answer immediately, again going straight for the bottle. “Enough to know better than to trust them. Grimlight’s paranoia and Starsong’s hubris might make them formidable, but they’re just as likely to use you for their own gains as they are to ‘help’. If you want answers, then I’d suggest looking elsewhere. Only if things are truly dire would I even debate about seeking their help.”
(cont.)
