Crit helped with the unpleasant task of stripping the bodies, scavenging their belongings, and then dumping the naked forms out the airlock. It was a grim business, one that he had actually seen before, though it had been the act of terrorists.
He supposed that was what they were in the eyes of the Empire now. Terrorists. It was sobering.
The two days in hyperspace went by as they always did, with fits of activity punctuated by boredom tinged with a small taint of claustrophobia. The ship was not overly large, nor overly luxurious, but Crit adapted easily enough, and tinkered with a few unused modules he found in the ship’s machine shop, making simple gearwork and circuit constructs. It gave him something to do when he was not checking on Teeva’s burns and Maya’s stitches. He applied fresh bacta to their injuries every twelve hours or so.
Among trusted allies, he did not bother to wear long sleeves and gloves, and instead went with his sleeves rolled up and forearms uncovered, the black metal of his cybernetic arm gleaming like the skeletal carapace of some giant insectoid species.
He wanted to get to know the others, so he suggested group activities from time to time, like a friendly game of sabacc in the lounge, and weapons cleaning and gear checking in the hold. In the hold, they could also do a bit of sparring if they wanted. He was particularly interested to see the Force-users with their lightsabers. He had grown up on stories of Jedi defending the galaxy, and it was quite the impressive sight.
Crit spoke to the others one-on-one as well, asking Hayole about his military experience and the Jedi about their training, or masters, or traditions. He knew from talking to Teeva before that she belonged to a different sect of Force users entirely, one that had been unfairly persecuted by the Jedi. He wanted to discuss that more with Teeva and as well. Kalla had a different background, and he was curious as to how a wookiee had gotten so far from home.
In turn, he told them about himself, even though some of them already knew that he was the scion of Nor Cybernetics and had a passion for working with technology and helping people. His company had become a leader in cybernetic advancements in the past few years.
Personally, he was good-natured and relaxed, inquisitive and interested in people, and was perceptive about their natures. He smiled often and easily.
When the two days had passed, he cleaned up the fresher, dressed in a fresh set of dark grey spacer pants and a casual white shirt and grey jacket, tugging on a pair of gloves to disguise his uniqueness. He tied his long blond hair behind his head in a very short tail.
“It’ll be good to breathe fresh air again,” he commented to the others as the pilot signaled that they would be coming out of hyperspace in a few minutes.