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Kendra Jendob
Moff


Joined: 19 Jun 2009
Posts: 170

 Post Posted: Wed, December 08th 2010 10:42pm    Post subject: Orbital Station Seventeen
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The noise in the orbital station's cantina was almost unbearable. Of course, if the noise was bad, the smell of various smokes, body odors, and other barroom emissions went far past the line for most people. Even I wouldn't normally put up with it, except I was looking for someone in particular. And it wasn't quite as bad some barracks I'd been in. Close, though.

Unfortunately, the best aid for the situation was slow in coming. "Bartender, where's that Corellian Ale?" I asked impatiently.

"Yeahs, yeahs. I's gots it in a minutes," the surly Besalisk behind the bar griped. I'd have figured with four arms, he'd be twice as efficient as a human bartender. Instead, I'd been waiting several minutes for a very simply procured drink: put the glass under the nozzle, pull the handle, give to the Stormtrooper, happy Stormtrooper gives a nice gratuity—end result: everyone is happy.

I looked around the cantina again. The smoke formed a haze that almost concealed the furthest wall. Scanning back and forth a couple times, I began to get frustrated. Where is he?

There was the sudden sound of glass on metal behind me. I whirled around to investigate, and found a mug filled with pale amber liquid under a head of white foam that threatened to overtop the sides of the glass. I grabbed the drink and began looking for a table, or at least someplace to sit down besides a damned bar stool. I walked around a bit, scanning for an open table when I spied something better. There you are.

He was sitting at a table, watching a holoscreen with one of the smashball games on. He didn't see me, so I looped around and approached him from behind. Dropping my voice about half an octave, I asked, "Hey there, sailor. Room for one more?"

Kris Jendob turned around, a frown on his face. "I'm not inter--" His eyes went wide. "Kendra?"

I laughed and gave him a playful tap on the arm. "Hey there, Little Man. So, any room?" I thought about his almost-brushoff. "Or am I interrupting a hot date?"

"No such luck," he grumbled, and waved his hand toward the opposite seat. I quickly occupied it.

"So, um..." Good, now I found him. Where do I begin? "Did you get my message?" Might as well assure him the family jewels are safe.

He stared into his glass as he replied, "Yeah, I got it."

Nervously, I asked, "Are we okay?"

"I'm not mad at you."

...Shit. His oblique answer stung, and it showed though slightly. "That's... not quite what I asked."

After a moment, he looked me in the eye. "I don't know, Kendra. Are we? Right now, we can be, but how does that change what happened or what's gonna happen?"

I responded, and was a little surprised that there wasn't any malice in it, within or without. "What happened was you acted like a jackass... so I acted like one too." A rueful smirk spread across my lips. "I'm pretty sure we're not the first or last siblings to come to blows."

Despite the topic, Kris smiled. Whether it was because he thought it was funny or just trying to match my expression, I didn't know. "Well, that's now what I mean. If it was about that, we should've been enemies since we were four."

I laughed. "Yeah."

He sipped his drink, then said bluntly, "So, this isn't a chance meeting."

"What do you mean?" I asked innocently.

He shot me a look. "You wanted to talk about something."

Dammit. "Yeah," I shrugged, acting nonchalant despite the weight of what was on my mind, and my worries about trying to pass this off as casual talk could backfire. "Aran told me you'd probably be here."

Kris and I were both scheduled to deploy with our units. That his ship was docked at the same orbital platform as my battalion was sheer luck, and I wasn't about to pass up a chance to try to straighten things out before we both saw combat. Worst case scenario, I at least wanted my twin brother's last memory of his sister to be something other than a fist-fight. I tried to contact him directly, but instead I reached his bunkmate, Aran Damor. I'd met him a few times, and while he was certainly an attractive man, I had no intentions of getting involved with someone that close to my brother. It'd be just too awkward, and our family situation had enough uncomfortablity and awkwardness before we'd all been ascended to some kind of royalty. Still, it just wasn't fair that the Navy got all of the good-looking guys...

"He's a nice guy," I said, maybe a bit too dreamily. I quickly sipped my beer, as if my imbibing would make him forget. "You're lucky to have him as your roommate."

Frak, that does not help matters. I almost wanted to slam my head on the table.

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Kris Jendob
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 Post Posted: Mon, December 20th 2010 07:30pm    Post subject:
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Kris idly scuffed his boot against the floor. “I know I am,” he nodded, swishing the amber liquid in his glass. He watched as the ale crept up the sides of the cup, as it was pushed outwards by the centripetal force, as the alcohol rotated around the deepening vortex. He let his hand go still and observed the flattening of the system, the liquid returning to its apparently-static, tranquil state. In nature, at least, things tended to even out when left alone.

“He’s cute, too,” Kendra smirked. Kris pushed the glass to his left and stared across the table at his sister, his defined eyebrows riding the angles of his face downward, an expression of expectancy. Kendra’s face revealed that she got the point. A thin smile formed on Kris’ lips. “But, yeah. I wanted to track you down,” she began. “In your little talk with her, did Mom mention anything about… certain perks? Transfers, promotions—crap like that?”

“She hinted around it, but I think she knew I didn’t want to hear it,” he leaned back into his chair, allowing his shoulders to slump. He certainly didn’t want to hear it; he was a man who made himself. He didn’t need or want the “benefits” of nepotism which were sure to be pushed on him. He was sure Kendra, too, would actively repulse any favors done for her by the new Emperor and Empress.

“Well, Dad did a bit more than hint,” she scoffed, confirming his thoughts. “I told him not a chance.”

“Dissension in the ranks, eh?” Kris asked, not rhetorically but inquisitively. Kendra had been serving as an adjunct of their parents recently; he knew that she had always been independent, but she had recently been Kris’ harshest critic.

“Heh, yeah. He didn’t push it, but… just mentioning it,” she trailed off.

“He would,” Kris muttered.

“Well, that’s just it. I didn’t really expect him to.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Kris shrugged. “That’s how he is, Kendra. It’s not what you can do—it’s what he can do, for himself or you. It always has been.”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know,” she paused. “What do you mean?”

Kris watched her, thinking how best to answer her question. He thought that merely being around their father would reveal his elitism. “Come on, Kendra, you’ve lived with him.”
“And I’ve lived with you, too,” she started.”

“It’s about his legacy, how brilliant he is,” Kris interrupted, continuing to talk. “And now it’s even worse.”

Kendra nodded her understanding, but it was an idle action, half-hearted. “Seems that way sometimes, yeah. I mean, he even offered me a transfer to the 501st, or getting pulled off the line,” she hesitated a moment, but Kris was sipping his ale, bidding her to continue with his eyes. “I mean, seriously. I can see why, but… godsdamn.”

“It’s a slap in the face,” Kris finished her thought, setting his glass down on the table quietly, the silence emphasizing his voice.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” Kendra agreed. “Especially given what he used to say about things like that… that makes it worse.”

Dad had always used to say that nepotism was despicable, that it had tarnished the Empire in the days during and following Palpatine’s rule. But his actions—in Kris’s mind—had never lived up to that confessed belief. The subtle gestures, the small comments: the small things had helped reveal his nature to Kris. And now, the more drastic gestures—offering Kendra promotion to the best of the best, something she surely deserved but would be sullied by an effortless, painless show of favoritism—truly exposed his hypocrisy.

“He’s willing to change his ideals. He never would have wanted an emperor, either. But since it’s him,” he trailed off. He felt the need to offer his commentary on his father, more out of a sense of inertia than a constant urge to criticize Ams Jendob. He glanced at the serene ale.

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Kendra Jendob
Moff


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 Post Posted: Sat, March 05th 2011 07:29pm    Post subject:
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"Well, I guess Dad thinks he can trust himself. Or him and Mom, anyway," I corrected myself quickly. Lingering anger aside, I knew Dad actually did have a kind of bizarre humility about him, and his trust in his wife went beyond absolute. It bordered on fairy tale-like or bad romance holo levels at times. Then again, they also seemed to have a mutual stabilizing influence on the other, so maybe his trust wasn't entirely misplaced.

And I can't really see Mom as some kind of insane, lightning-blasting evil wizard.

"Of course he does," grumbled Kris. "Kriff, Kendra, I wouldn't trust the gods themselves with this, much less him. What a frakking Galaxy."

"Well, it's like a sabacc hand," I shrugged. "No matter how much the Moffs say a High Moff is the best hand, a Grand Admiral still beats it."

"But a council of Moffs electing an emperor is no more solid. It's a publicity stunt, Kendra, and they chose the worst person for it."

I nodded, agreeing on the stunt and questionable legitimacy. But I didn't think the choice was quite as bad as Kris made it out to be. There were far, far worse choices on the Council. Still, it was clear going down this path might only make matters worse. I opted to change the subject, throwing a little concession to keep things going. "Anyway, yeah, that little chat I had with him definitely made me start seeing things your way a little more. Did your talk with Mom go any better?"

"Well, she threatened to lock me up," he smirked. Is he kidding? I wondered with concern. "But... I guess so."

A pregnant pause hung over us. I couldn't contain my shock. "What do you mean?"

"Nevermind, we're fine."

"Oh... okay," I said slowly. I grabbed at my neglected mug, taking another sip of the fizzy, bitter liquid. When the glass reunited with the table and my chair's legs with the floor, another thought had come to mind. "Still, he made one good point. Like it or not... we're all public figures now."

Kris sighed with a frown. "I know."

"I mean, when's the last time you saw Dad... in person?"

"Yesterday."

It was good that I'd wet my whistle on the previous comment... or my erstwhile twin would've had to return to his ship covered in a mouthful of beer. "Really?"

"I stopped by the house to pick up some stuff," he explained. "And he was there. Things went... well, they went."

I looked at him, expecting more. The last three times Kris and Dad had been present in the same room, there were fireworks.

"We spoke," my brother added with damnable vagueness. I mentally shook my head and wondered, for the billionth time, how we could possibly be twins.

"Yet Bastion still exists?" I teased.

That drew a small smirk. "It wasn't much."

"What happened there?" I quickly rested my chin on my hand, elbow on the table. The fact that there hadn't been another family crisis despite the two Jendob males occupying the same cubic kilometer.

"He gave me some stuff I thought I lost," he said, taking another quaff of his drink.

When another few moments passed and it became clear he was done speaking, I pressed again. "Like what?"

"A smashball trophy from a while back. He said he had some stuff for you, too."

I remembered the trophy, and its ignominious fate. "That one you broke?" He nodded to confirm. "I thought that got thrown out years ago."

"Me too, but he..." A brief pause. The words almost seemed to pain him. "Fixed it."

"He fixed it?" I echoed.

He smirked. "I guess even moffs know how to use bonding agent."

"Still... I didn't think..." I wasn't sure what to make of it. I gave up trying to work it out. "Wow. That was nice of him," I said stupidly. Kris just picked at his glass. "Are you sure he fixed it? Didn't just buy a new one or something?"

"Pretty sure you can't go out and buy something like that. Well, I guess you could, but.. "

I felt a kind of vicarious warmth from the small act. Dad had been a good father to us, we knew (well, I knew anyway... Kris clearly had doubts if the past two years were any indication) that he loved us. But he was always just a little... distant. Never cold, never mean. He could be strict, but not much more than Mom. But he also lacked her near-smothering open affection. It was more a case of "You know I care, there's no reason to embarrass both of us with overly sappy displays at every opportunity." Maybe Mom just got to that part of him first, or the stress of her accident prematurely wore down that part of him... or it was just something he considered a favor to us as we grew up. Regardless of what it was, something as... simple as reassembling a damaged trophy, with no apparent signs of mourning its loss for years... it quickly consumed the anger and made me wonder about Kris' own reaction. I admitted sheepishly, "Still, wow. I'm impressed."

"He said he did it years ago... before the birthday."

A small spark of indignation flared up as I nodded in response, the impact of what he meant crystallizing. "That did nothing to help, though, did it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can Dad ever get you back on his side?" I asked bluntly.

He responded with equal frankness. "I don't want to be on his side, not after all this especially."

"So, no matter what he does... the gap never closes." I frowned with disapproval.

"A little poetic there."

"But is it wrong, Kris?"

"I got along without him the past few years."

"And he got along without you for the same time... but do you think that's how he wants it? How any of us want it?"

"It's not what we want, Kendra. But it's how it is," Kris replied. Surprisingly, there was no anger, no annoyance. Just a simple, cool statement of perceived fact.

"Well, things can change. After all, you said nothing ever changes," I paused, and smiled, savoring the slightly-sweet victory of rubbing my kid brother's nose in his own words. "I'd something big changed."

"Heh," Kris grunted, swirling his drink. "Well, the more things change, I guess..."

"Let me ask you," I asked in that tone of veiled apologetic preface that accompanied every statement of No offense, but or I hate to say this or Bless his heart or any number of markers of the next statement being potentially inflammatory. "Do you really, truly hate him?"

Kris' head snapped from studying his the swirling maelstrom in his glass. He looked perplexed and stunned. "I never said I hated him."

"Just can't stand him, then?" I asked, becoming painfully aware of yet another autonomic, sting-salving smile forming just before and being maintained during the challenge. Well, that's definitely from Mom.

"No. It's somewhere in between, I figure."

"But don't you even want to not be distant? Even if he changed, saw where he went wrong?"

"I also want the Dreadnaughts to take the Galaxy Cup. That doesn't mean it's going to happen, Kendra," he pointed out. "You have to be realistic."

"Kris, just look at history," I countered. "Realism takes a beating in this Galaxy." Taris, Lehon, Ruusan, Yavin, Endor, Mom's accident even... that Imperial supply convoy that managed to slaughter a bunch of pirates out near Sallaex in the Outer Rim. "I figure anything can happen."

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 Post Posted: Wed, June 08th 2011 05:44pm    Post subject:
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She had a point, Kris acknowledged with a flick of the eyebrows as he looked past the rim of his inverted glass. He swallowed. "But I liked nothing about the man when he was a Moff. Hell, not when he was a bloody Administrator, either," Kris bit. "Now he's the damn Emperor. It's all moving in the wrong direction."

He set his glass down to the table with a clink. Kendra was silent. Kris thought he should take some of that outburst back. It was a disgruntled exaggeration to say there was nothing he liked about his father. Granted, he couldn't exactly enumerate any of his positive characteristics at that very moment, but a shiny statue glimmered somewhere in his mind, its sheen veiled by his consciousness. He didn't want to tell Kendra about how Dad had returned the long-lost smashball trophy to him. He was surprised that the Emperor himself hadn't told her about their encounter at the old house.

But then, Ams Jendob probably had more important things to do when the Galaxy was travelling in a thousand different directions around him. Kris didn't blame him. Needs must, he guessed. But the part of him that was selfish wished that his father, his family...

He cut off the thought before it could mature. He didn't want to face the pregnant idea. It would have made him feel better, feel sympathetic, and tonight, he didn't want that. "Besides, the rest of you are convinced I'm an ass," he stated neutrally, appraising their conception of him as accurate. He knew he was being difficult. He didn't want to be, but inertia...

"You are," Kendra was quick to agree. "But even asses can be right," she smirked. "And Emperors can be wrong, especially when we first knew them as 'Dad.'" Kris sipped his drink, waiting for her to continue. "And even if you're an ass and wrong... you're still my brother," she tipped her own glass towards him, as if saluting, "and Dad's still... well... our dad."

A small, aimless smile played at his lips. "And there's the problem," he said with a sigh, gulping the last bit of liquid from the glass. He didn't know what else to add.

"You see a problem. I see a comfort," Kendra mused. "No matter how much I want to kick you in the balls one day... it's never enough to break that bond," she assured.

"Maybe between us; that was one time," he reminded her, uncomfortably brushing aside the sudden hollowness in his gut. "How do you change something somebody's always been?"

"Talk to them, without screaming. Maybe take them out for a drink," her fingers played acrobat on the rim of her mug. "I mean, frak... the Stormtrooper has more finesse than the Intel and Navy officers?" She grinned.

"Gods, Kendra, you know you can't have a peaceful debate with Dad without him going psych on you," he started, before she had finished speaking. Kendra's words brought something to mind: she had been the black sheep of the family, the one who become a Stormtrooper. How couldn't she understand? "Come on, you were the one who first started with how we felt about him," he reminded her. Memories of lobbies with verbal artillery filled his mind, awkward moments between Kendra and the rest of the family... but Kris had always been on her side. "You knew all of this before I realized it, too."

"Yeah... and Dad and I went over it. It didn't go well the first few times, you should know that, but we talked eventually," she insisted.

Kris bit his lip, the muscles in his throat tightening in anticipation of yelling, but he held them back, more or less. "I've never had a conversation with the man where I wasn't on my guard," he hissed. It was true. Kris had well learned the art of diplomacy with superior officers. When a son comes home, he shouldn't feel like he must remain in that posture with his own family. But he'd always talked to his father as if he were his commanding officer, and the Emperor had always treated him like a favored recruit. Kris couldn't recall a time he had actually spoken to Ams Jendob as a parent. "He's never been like a father should be."

Something in him cringed at that generalization. "Not with that," he quickly appended.

"Okay. Have a few drinks with him first," she chuckled after seeing Kris' expression of disbelief. "Besides, don't you think you've put a few marks on him, yourself?"

He rubbed the skin on his nose with his thumb. "Yeah," he admitted more quietly. "I'm not happy about it, Kendra."

"Well," Kendra observed him, a sad, braced smile on her lips. "You've never really seemed too remorseful about it..."

"I'm not sorry for it, but I'm not happy that it had to happen," Kris retorted. He hated what the relationship between him and his father had become, but he didn't think he should bear the blame for his defense. "Trust me, Kendra, if I could make it better just by thinking it, there'd be no problem at all. But that's just not how it works."

"Yeah, well, I used to think the same thing," she began. "But I've patched things up since."

"I don't know," he sighed, not agreeing with her. Her past disagreements had been more superficial, in his eyes: Kris wouldn't care if his daughter had chosen the Army instead of the Navy, and it was stupid disagreement. To him it was something to joke about, something to playfully nudge about, and he did josh Kendra about it at times. Their parents should have been happy their children both decided to go into the military at all. Kendra's issue developed out of a few arguments. Kris' had merely manifested in a few (several) arguments. It wasn't the same, and he and his sister both knew it. But at least Kris had defended her against their parents, been her advocate and the person she could talk to. He desperately didn't want to become angry with his sister again. But he was hurt.

"Why did you react so badly? To me, the other day," he said, hesitating.

"The day of the bombing?" Kendra asked the question with an obvious answer. Kris nodded anyway. She sighed, forced to respond. "Because I was already freaking out, Kris," she said, her voice taking on a more timorous, unguarded quality. "I mean, gods," she swore, swallowing, her eyes no longer seeing him, but the past instead. "He was ten meters away from a bomb that blew away a bunch of other Moffs. It just seemed like... you didn't care," her eyes went back to him, her voice almost horrified, as if his callousness scared her more that day than the prospect of her father's death. "And... I lost it."

Kris couldn't take his eyes from his sister's face. "I didn't... mean to," he exhaled, feeling inadequete that he couldn't produce a better response.

"You're saying that a lot..."

"I know, Kendra," he interrupted weakly.

"And yeah, I know that... now," she continued talking over him. "But at the time..." she trailed off before beginning a new thought. "It seemed more important that we all hang together, put things aside... rather than playing it safe."

Kris turned his eyes to his glass, looking at the now-empty inside. He would have looked bored to any other observer, but both twins knew he was thinking. "Things don'... always work out the way you want."

She looked at him, worried.

"Do you seriously think I really wanted to come in and pick a fight the day my dad almost died?" He said, lucid but backed with a surprising furor, his crystalline eyes returning to meet his sister's There was a lot he didn't mean to happen, yet, somehow, it always found a way, and sometimes he hated himself for it.

"No... I don't."

That reassured him slightly.

"But, that day," Kendra continued. "I'm not proud of it."

"That makes two of us," Kris agreed, subdued.

"No, I meant... well... yeah... I dunno," Kendra muttered, unsure of how to carry on. "But come on. This has to end at some point?"

"When?" Kris asked. "How can it end?" He was entirely earnest in his questioning. Things were so frakked up he didn't see any good way out. "Plus, if you haven't noticed, there's more important things in the horizon." It would be better for everyone to just stay in their own spheres: he would go back to the Maelstrom, the Emperor and the Empress would stay in the palace, Kendra would go back to duty... everyone in the Remnant would (he hoped) unite against Zend, and everything in his family would be... disarrayed, like always, but tepid. The same as it had been for the past several years.

Empty.

"Yeah," Kendra began. "and don't you think Dad would need to worry more about Zend... than whether you and I are gonna club each other next time we're around him? Or whether you're gonna club him?"

"I don't think he does," Kris frowned.

"Kris..." his sister began, frankly. "Zend took Muunilinst a day ago. She's a stone's throw from Bastion. Hell, she could drop out of hyperspace, right now. Kill the two of us. Or blast the planet. You and I are soldiers. What if something happened to one of us... or to them? Another bomb..."

Kris looked away.

"Could you live with yourself?"

"I..." he stuttered.

He couldn't. It was one thing to begrudge his father for ruining his childhood, or for being pretentious, or for being a stuck-up. For being too serious or too cold, or judging or power-hungry. But to simply imagine that he weren't there... that was something else. It was his dad. He finally looked up at Kendra, his frown gone, all tension fleeing his muscles as if his skin were wicking it all away, taking the anger and the frustration away with its flow, the only aberrations on his face those of his dark brows and piercing eyes. As if another bomb had just been set off in the Palace.

"No..." slid out of him, voicelessly.

Kendra's watch beeped. "Dammit," she said, eyes bouncing from the instrument back to her bewildered brother. "You know what you need to do," she said, perceiving his state.

He watched her quietly. "Take care of yourself," he managed to speak, his throat drained of all moisture.

"You too, lit—Kris," she said, gently nudging his hand. He relished the warmth, grasping lazily at her finger as she pulled away. "And it was good talking to you," she smirked. "Guess I gotta kick ya twice, next time. Keep it even."

He watched Kendra leaving, her smile putting some life back into his face. He desired more alcohol; this time, not to numb him, but to put some fire back into his cold body. He was just about to order when a cheer erupted in the room, causing Kendra to turn around. Kris tried to peer at one of the screens around the room, but Kendra's form was blocking it. "Huh," she said, turning back to face him. "Guess who won," she mused as she stepped aside.

Kris gaped, his face frozen until he was finally able to get out a slight chortle. "Heh," he managed with a smirk. "Better get the Hell out of here, Old Lady, before the whole galaxy explodes."

"See you around," Kendra smirked as she moved away through the crowd.

The Dreadnaughts had crushed the Nobles in a landslide.

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