Activating her lightsaber, Sia-Lan takes point, stepping into the antechamber. A brilliant glare of pink, it casts light upon mounds of crates, abandoned equipment, among other miscellaneous tools and detritus.
“You could drive a small ship through the top,” she opines. The guardian has found a map on the wall. “It looks like KesCorp built the mines wide enough to have freighters go down the shafts and meet the pallets of spice halfway.”
“You’d have to blast the coverings off first,” observes Ma’kis. “Depending on if you have the time to wait for the shaft cover to open.”
<span class="mu-i">…might be useful if we need the ship</span>, you think, but the amount of heavy machinery makes you nervous about a collision. You make a beeline to the lift. Much to your disappointment, it doesn’t respond. “Main lift’s out.”
“Not to worry,” assures Ma’kis with a tone drier than sand. “Both sets of invitations contain instructions on how to maneuver the mines if there isn’t enough power.”
…you’d laugh if it isn’t otherwise appropriate.
“They’ll know we’re coming,” warns Sia-Lan. “If not by any sensors they left up here, then by our presence in the Force.”
Taking as deep a breath as you can with your rebreather, you meet their gazes, and expel a breath containing all of your doubts and hesitations. “…then let’s not keep them waiting.”
>>One sojourn later…>>2 km below the surface of Kessel…The door leading to the rendezvous point opens before Sia-Lan and Ma’kis are able to knock or ring the nearby sensor. With a hiss of air that blows against your robes, the blast doors grind open, shuddering with every inch to reveal a glimpse of a well-lit, decently ventilated ledge filled to the brim with machinery, crates and everything a spice miner would need.
Shadday Potkin looks remarkably unchanged from the portrait in Master Larid’s files. A human woman comparatively young for a master, maybe in her late twenties or mid-thirties. She’d kept her dark brown hair in the same bun prior to the war. Her service record spoke of a capable commander in the GAR, if somewhat undistinguished compared to Kenobi, Mundi or Windu.
“Ma’kis!” she says brightly, nodding towards the Nikto, then to Sia-Lan. “Wezz. It’s good to see you both in good health.”
Then her attention turns to you, and you catch the full brunt of her attention. She looks you up and down with unamused appraisal, but her eyes are drawn to the lightsabers at your belt. The smile on her face is almost genuine in its warmth.
“And you’ve found another one of our brothers!” She hums an approving tone. "I'm sorry I don't recognize you, but I'm none the less pleased that you've escaped the Empire's predations."
Your fist tightens, but you say nothing.
If Potkin detected anything as you tried to bury your emotions, she doesn’t make a note of it. “Please, come in. We have breathable air and plenty of supplies.”
(cont.)