"I hope not," Keslin says. "I'm going to keep the visual focused on myself for the time being." He gives Ossanlin a grim smile, then accepts the communication request.
The battered fighter shows its age, the computer humming laboriously as it seeks to obey the command. It takes a few long moments, but eventually the communications holoscreen flickers to life, displaying the visage of a young woman, perhaps in her early to mid thirties, with deep brown skin and dark hair. Her brown eyes are wide with disbelief.
"Keslin--" she says breathlessly. "Keslin, is that really you?"
On the Skimmer ship, cloaked and shielded some distance away, Farrah's hands move over her own ship's controls, sending a message to the other ships and linking them into her feed, allowing all of the rebels to witness the conversation, even if they cannot participate.
Keslin gives a small, brief smile. "Yeah, it's me," he says, coughing a laugh and smiling almost sheepishly. "It's good to see you, Farrah."
Farrah nods, still looking mystified. "We thought for sure you were dead. Who else--tell us what happened. Tell us everything, please."
"I will," Keslin says. "But let's take care of business first. Who else is at the rendezvous? Do you have a roster of ships and personnel?"
<<She looks shaky,>> Chris comments. <<And she was never exactly in charge of the med bay.>>
<<I know,>> Keslin responds, frowning. <<It is worrisome that Sam and Kalnath did not answer.>>
