The Battle of Fort Blindshot is over. The Children of Mortis’ raid to reclaim their crystals ended in failure, but left in its wake damage, debris, and bodies. Now, with the smoke clearing, Arcona and the AAF are consolidated on the island to start clearing away the rubble and bring normalcy back to the ocean-locked fortress. While Blindshot proper was not utterly devastated, those structures that saw direct combat — mostly along the northeastern perimeter — suffered extensive damages, burying inside their duracrete carcasses the dead and even some still-living soldiers.
Off in the jungle forests of the volcano’s caldera, the shattered ascendant asteroid-transport might no longer remain, but pockets of the crystal-coated creatures still remain. The largest of the monsters were hunted down from the air by patrolling AAF LAAT/i gunships, safe from the teeth and claws of tarentateks and rancors. The smaller creatures, however, more easily hid among the trees and shrubbery. Most notably, several small bands of the ascendant raptors roam the caldera, collecting in groups of three or four. While these don’t necessarily pose a real danger to the fort proper, their elimination is essential for resuming the safe use of the volcano as a training area.
While the outbuildings might be damaged, the staunch defense of the starport left it in functional order, and remains the main point of entry onto the island. Accordingly, recovery of the area around the starport is considered the most important task, but there is no restriction to this quarter of the base. The only definitive orders from the command structure are that any prisoners discovered among the rubble are treated respectfully; no looting of any kind is permitted, either of Blindshot or of the CoM dead, wounded, or prisoners; and that any patrols to the volcano keep the headquarters appraised.
As many of the wounded and recovery personnel mill about the starport, food and drink have been provided at various commissary prefab tents. A similar setup is also at the headquarters for the personnel designated to coordinate everything. This is not the traditional Arconan party-fare, but the food is nourishing and flavorful all the same, while the drinks are limited to water, punch, or weak beer. These areas are focal points of socializing, many soldiers and even some Arconans coming to terms with the attack. Others wander solitary through the battlefield, alone with their thoughts.
Starport
The Voidbreaker II had seen better days. Not that it was as bad as the damages that had, ultimately, lead to the decommissioning of the*Voidbreaker I*, but that wasn’t exactly a high bar.
For starters, there was still a giant hole in the hull of the Minstrel-class space yacht’s hull. Someone had thought that it would be a great idea to punch said hole as a means of a pressurized release of the ships entire reservoir of water, and then to combine it with a homeade “bomb” consisting of modified cluster of cryoban grenades.
Beyond that, the ships plating had taken its share of other hits and damages from the waves of enemy forces. While the Voidbreaker II had nobly held her ground as it served as a beacon for local forces and a forward operating base for the members of House Qel-Droma, was being worked over by swarms of AAF engineers and repair technicians. Tubes and plasma torches and hoversleds of supplies and maintenance droids toiled away at almost every angle of the ship.
It was safe to say the Voidbreaker II wasn’t going anywhere for the moment, but reports had been optimistic that she’d be flying again soon.
The Captain of the ship sat on a crate by herself watching the repair work. She had not left the starport since the enemy had formally been repelled and the AAF had declared an end to the conflict. She had managed to find a shower in the barracks nearby, so her long midnight hair framed her face formlessly without her signature braids to keep it in tact.
She wore her non-combat uniform: indigo pants that cut off just below the knee, and a matching crop-top jacket with long sleeves and black boots. Her jacket displayed the Voidbreaker emblem in silver stitching.
Zig Kaliska’s feet dangled idly over the edge of the crate as she held her beskar helmet in her hands and seemed to study it solemnly. The rounded, T-visor had a vicious gouge in it. She frowned down at it, remembering the Ascendent Troopers strange lightsaber…
From across the tarmac, a Zeltron approached the beleaguered-looking ship and her captain. Qyreia didn’t exactly look much better herself. Where during the battle she’d been replete in the dun colors of her pathfinder armor, now she only retained her trousers and a tanktop undershirt. Her arms, covered in bandages dotted in red, bespoke of a rough time that was confirmed by the mottling of dark red splotches of skin across her back and shoulders.
However much the sudden pained groan of Qyreia might have surprised the concentrating battleteam leader as she took a seat beside her, the sudden appearance of a watered-down beer proffered made for an interesting touch.
“How you holding up?”
Zig nearly let out a startled squeak, but perhaps her introspection and fatigue saved her from that level of embarrassment. Instead, she simply nearly fell off the crate, but deftly managed to keep herself seated. Smooth.
She gingerly placed her scarred helmet down and took the offered beer. She glanced at the label, idly studying it, then held it up towards the Consul in a feigned gesture of cheer. “I’m alive, so I guess there’s that,” she said wistfully as she took a sip of the beverage. Her eyes moved back out over the starport, to the scorch marks and remnants of machine, crystal, and organic alike.
A question that had been sitting bottled up inside her for quite some time came to the surface. Now was as good of a time as any to ask, she figured. “How do you do it, boss?” she asked softly. “How do you live, day to day, with all this…supernatural stuff? Ancient monsters are one thing, but space mages…and the things that Sith, Jedi, whatever label themselves as…all that power and tampering with dark forces better left untouched.
"How do you do it. I thought I was finally getting used to being around them, but again no matter how smart or tough or strong I make myself…I’m still just…me against mutated space…mages…” she realized she had started to babble a bit and quickly took a long pull from the beer to stop herself.
“How do I do it…?” she said, pondering and trying to suppress a smirk at the word-vomit. “Well, usually I start by taking off her pants, and…”
Zig snorted into her beer and nearly spilled some.
Qyreia offered a smile in return. “Thanks. I didn’t even think that’d get a chuckle.” She went back to thinking, her gaze going off a few hundred yards for a moment. “Hm. I dunno, honestly. Some days are better than others. I’ve done a lot to cope.” She looked up at the Voidbreaker II. “Sometimes it’s fix up my ship. Other times it’s sex with my wife until I can’t walk anymore. Sometimes…” Her eyes went down to the weak booze in her hand. “Alcohol is a dangerous one, but it works too, sometimes.”
Zig nodded idly and might have flushed at the blunt mention of intercourse. She eyed the beer skeptically. “I think we’re safe there, boss. This beer is weak as bantha piss.”
“For good reason,” the Zeltron said as she took a long pull on hers. “Meant to take the edge off. But there’s a lot of folk that might do something stupid if they go too deep.” She paused. “Lotta bad stuff to see out there. Lot of anger that folks want to let out.”
Zig nodded. “At least that kind of thing I can handle. Even Aru is manageable once you realize how easily directed he can be. But you’re right and it probably is for the best.”
“That said though…” She looked at the Zygerrian. “You did good out there. Really. Not sure how I felt about you cryobanning the whole airfield, but I can’t argue with the results. Least it didn’t kill any of ours.” She chuckled, bringing her beer to her lips. “Just a bit chilly.”
Zig tried to smile, but found it hard to muster. Flashes, even short ones, of the battlefield played across her mind. While she had appreciated Qyreia’s…understanding and even attempts to make her ‘stunt’ an accepted part of the conflict, she still felt like she’d not done enough.
“The credit really should go to the team,” she offered after another few sips. “I know we’re not really the Clan’s vanguard or real soldiers or anything like that, but there is no fiercer, resourceful, and inventive team in the ‘verse.”
Qyreia nodded as she surveyed the star port and all the soldiers, ships, and resources moving about. “I don’t doubt it. But don’t sell yourself short either, okay?” She looked at the Zygerrian again. “I can leave you alone if ya want. Don’t mean to interrupt you if you prefer some alone time.”
Zig shook her head a few times. “It’s not that. But I know there’s others that probably need your time and attention more.” She picked up the helmet again and turned it around and over. “Schutta’s weaponry can scar even beskar. Creepy, but we’ll adapt….”
Fort Blindshot proper
Cold stone and claustrophobia. Jagged edges forcing her to contort into uncomfortable knots just to scrape a few lengths onward. The constant nagging knowledge of the weight of broken duracrete above her, and the faint bio-signature on the scanner screen. Vicxa Varis clawed her way onward within the mountain of rubble, shifting stones with ginger care while burrowing ever closer to that faint signal that still beat with life. A stone shifted out of place, unveiling a mangled hand matted with blood and dust. He had no words left in him, but the cry could not have been clearer. She grasped the hand, hope all she could offer at that moment, but sometimes it was all they needed.
“I’ve got one!” the Mirialan called over comms. “He’s weak, but alive.”
A huge Bantha walked in
It was carrying two ladies on its back while also dragging a carriage behind.
On the carriage there was a huge speaker, and more than 10 crates of Rum bottles
Leading the Bantha, a huge red man, wearing nothing but white pants and gold shoes. Besides him, another man, smaller with a very high ponytail (an omen to his mistress) and a bottle.in hand and a.microphone in the other.
There was a high pitched squeal as the speakers turned on and Aru’s voice boomed
“Alright! War is over and the Rum is safe! It’s time to partyyyyyy”
He noticed Zig in the distance
“Captain! Come have a drink! Those crystal freaks are dead and we are not! Hahahahahaha”
He then chugged half his bottle in seconds
“Always do,” the Zeltron offered, unsure what to say. “But whatever you think my time is worth, and however unapproachable I can be sometimes, I’m always available if you need me.” She noticed Aru, hearing his belting and trying to ignore the many questions about how the actual frack he got a bantha to an island. “Scuse me. I’ve got some Consuling to do.”
Zig started to reply, and then just exhaled very, very slowly and felt her shoulders slouch helplessly. She whispered a silent prayer for her former Aedile.
Eleceos walked alone stopping to glance at the Voidbreaker II. The battle for Fort Blindshot had been won, but the cost was large. The air was rank with the smell of death. The cleanup of the battle was upon them.
The Miraluka had felt mostly useless during the battle, though he had defused a bomb. His success was because of the Force guiding his actions. Then the joining of minds with Mune as they peered into the future together, a last ditch effort to save their Clan mates.
These events led to Ele realizing something. He needed to embrace this Clan moreso than he had been doing. He needed to cultivate friendships and get over his perceived inadequacies. He needed to trust that the Force had a plan for him, and he would follow that plan.
Noticing the familiar glow and shape of his Captain, Ele approached the sitting Zig.
“Hello Captain. May I be of service to you?”
“Oh, hey Ele,” she smiled and made a broad waving gesture. She’d made a habit of making less “small” gestures around the Miraluka, even to the point of being more emotive to help him read social situations more easily. “There’s plenty of work to be done, but honestly, I just want to make sure everyone is..okay. That feels like something I can actually do…”
She hopped off the crate and tucked her scored beskar helmet under her arm.
“Prehaps there are some in need of post battle debriefing? Sometimes a lended ear can do some good for the psyche.” Ele appreciated the gesture and smiled. He wanted to be useful to his crew. And of course to anyone else who needed it. “The Voidbreaker will probably be grounded for a bit, but that may be good for keeping us where we’re needed right now.”
Zig nodded. “Definitely. I know that the repair and maintenance crew probably doesn’t want my ‘help’ so I should probably let them work. They have my notes and know to ping me if there are any questions about the repairs at least.” She looked the Miraluka up and down. “We might not even be here or standing if it wasn’t for you, Ele.”
She thought back to the stress of a live bomb being placed by the Voidbreaker II.
“Hold fast, we have you,” a quiet, urgent voice replied over comms. A few dozen meters away from Vix’s location, bodies got into motion, a team prepared with heavy-lift equipment and medical supplies, all they would need to save one more life.
The figure at their fore set a mean pace. Sera had stripped her resplendent battle armor down to the sleeveless undersuit and her boots, spattered with mud and sweat and blood. She had long ago ripped away the remnants of her snowy white cloak, leaving it behind amongst the battle’s falling ashes.
She still had her dagger, of course. But…that wasn’t going anywhere, anyway.
The excavation team moved as close as they were able to ping Vix’s location. It was difficult to determine exactly, considering the meters of duracrete and steel interfering with the signal. More than that, moving excess rubble could put lives yet unfound at stake. They needed something more. A sixth sense.
Pausing before the immense pile of shattered ruin before them, Sera squeezed her one good eye shut, taking a deep , rattling breath through the filter over her mouth.
She reached for the Force. For Vix. For the song, in the back of her mind…and found only a concrete wall, black and unyielding. There was no song, no sense, no feeling…nothing but a trickle of warm blood, bursting from one nostril.
No. Not again. Not now…
Sera’s eye snapped open, and she wiped the blood away before those around her saw.
“…get the excavators set,” she ordered, putting a trace of steel in her voice before she reached for her comm. “We’ll need help finding you. Try and…retrace your steps.”
Fort Blindshot
The Battlelord tugged along on the surface of the tarmac using the sturdiness of this beskar spear to keep the weight off of his right leg which had been damaged somewhat during the battle leading it to become unresponsive at times. The rest of his body had not faired much better during that time his Iorn legion uniform was badly damaged and near unrecognizable from the gouges and blaster bolts. His left arm was hung slightly limp at his side acept hit his hand which was clutched tightly around somthing. Sparks shooting sporadically from exposed peices of cybernetics where the armour had failed and synth flesh had been torn.
But in the grand sceam of things the Sith has survived another battle and he would be able to go home to those he cared for in due time. But for now there was still work to be done some formality to be taken care of first. The Kaleeshs crimson eyes scanned the tarmac for who he was looking for and dispite the bussel of moving equipment and personnel they soon fell upon the Zeltron he was looking for.
With a low growl willed his legs to start moving again and made his way over to the Console of Arcona his voice rising so as to be heard over the din of the work around them.
“Qyreia a small moment of your time before I depart for the jungle.” He said continuting to trudge along in her direction
Qyreia stopped and turned, Aru’s bantha and liquor stash already on the fast track to being taken off the island. Whatever the Qel-Droman did from there was his own business.
“What’s up, Skar?” She noticed his limp and ad hoc crutch. “Have you seen a medic yet? …Or a mechanic?”
“Huuuh-boy…”
“Umh, I can’t really move both of us. And I don’t think he wants me to let go…” the Mirialan replied over the open comms. Although his grip wasn’t strong, enfeebled as he was by being trapped under rubble for hours on top of whatever other injuries he’d sustained, Vicxa felt the desperation with which he clung to her hand and knew that pulling away might lead to unpredictable outcomes. “What if I just turn up my comms and you try again? Or just start digging real carefully. Maybe with less stuff in the way you’ll get a better read? I’m pretty darn deep in here. Just, uh, don’t cause any accidental cave-ins!” she chuckled, unconvincingly.
Sera resisted the urge to slap herself on the back of the head.
“Not that. Just tell me how you got where you are. What side you began on, how far you moved. Keep talking, and keep holding on. The more he hears your voice, the better,” Sera urged, waving the excavator team to get into position. They moved quickly and carefully, particle-saws to cut massive blocks of stone and metal into manageable chunks whirring at the ready.
They still needed a more exact fix on Vix’s position, but when Sera reached to the Force again, it slipped through her fingers like golden sand, impossible to hold.
“We will find you, Varis. Give the comms another ping, and…y’know…hold tight?” the Zabrak continued, a note of sarcastic humor in the last strain of advice. It didn’t help her feel any better.
A shadow was cast over the comm unit, and the Zabrak herself, as a looming figure approached from behind. Clad in what most would consider workout gear of a pair of red gym shorts and a black, sleeveless, moisture wicking top, Stres'trong'armis looked somewhat out of place compared to the other works. Aside from the yellow hard hat sat firmly on his bald head.
“Is that Miss Vicxa? Is she burrowing through this debris? A bold move!”
The Chiss took a moment to stretch, popping his neck as he did so and looking down at Sera, “Where do you require my expert assistance, Madame Quaestor?”
Sera hardly needed to turn around to identify the source of the voice. She only knew a few people who could cast a shadow quite so broad, and none who could match the rich cadence of Strong’s voice.
There was also the fact that only he could show up to the sight of a recent bloody battle looking as if he had just stepped straight from Blindshot’s gym. A gym that was currently rubble, yes, but still.
Sera didn’t say anything, for a moment. Standing straight, she met the Chiss’s gaze with her one good eye, expression unreadable. Then, stepping forward, the wiry Zabrak launched herself at him, wrapping his lower abdomen in a tight embrace, careful not to accidentally pierce his tit with her horns.
“…it is good to have you, Strong,” Sera mumbled somewhere into his abs, pulling back with a weary smile. “They’re going to start cutting the rubble into chunks. Once they get going, we’ll move the pieces, bit by bit until we reach Vix.”
As if on cue, the particle saws began to whirr, hissing violently as they cut through concrete and steel like butter.
“Well then I shall be ready to assist in moving the rubble…” he peered down at her.
“What happened to your eye, Miss Sera?” he asked more quietly.
“I will be fine it looks worse then it actually is, but will make sure to get my limbs looked at before I depart if that will ease your mind.” He said coming to a stop before her
“Thank you for sending Garmis and his people when you did, though I will never let him know thatpersonaly but we wouldnt have survived without his help.” To accentuate his words he left arms moved to hold out his hand which struggled to open reveiling a small mound of identification tags from those men and women who had fallen at the tower.
“I wanted to make sure they are remembered and given the proper awards, we were lucky it was one of the platoons I trained back during my time as Adile, they were good men and women we tried to recover there body’s as best we could…..those crystals beasts did not make it easy.” Muttered the Kaleesh trying go extend his arm further so that the Zaltron could take it from him.
The Nightfall Prism II hovered over the landing pad at the space port, keeping a close eye on the columns of prisoners that were being escorted to the waiting transports. the faces of the prisoners showed a defeated force, their superiority and overconfidence shattered by a bunch of mercenaries and force users. J sat at the weapons station, her weapons sensors trained on the prisoners. She fully expected them to try something stupid and she would respond in kind.
Walking down the ramp of one of the transports came a familiar site, resplendent in her purple and black armour, Edema strode down the ramp towards the feracrete floor, looking up she gave a wave to her cousin on the Prism. Edema had been away on family business, assisting her uncle in some “negotiations” that required a more persuasive touch. The negotiations had been a success so she had returned to her family, ready to help clear up the mess that had been left.
Qyreia swallowed back a lump in her throat as she reached out and took the tags. She wasn’t sure what he expected her to do with them when it was the adjutants counting up the casualties that needed the names, and the families that would get the tags and other personal effects. Underneath it all though, the weight of the emotions around her were starting to sit heavy on the Zeltron. She was only thankful she didn’t have a Kiffar’s psychometry.
“Thanks Skar,” she said simply, clutching the tags for lack of free pocket space. “And thanks for… well, what you did out there. You guys did more for the rest of us than you might know.”
“The physician said you’re supposed to stay put!”
“She also said you were to be quiet and stop annoying her,” Mune shot back. “She even threatened to sedate you.”
“I think she wanted to sedate you because you kept having panic attacks,” Carr rolled his eyes.
“I repeatedly said that I refused to stay… for reasons….”
The two siblings padded out into the open, Mune a little ahead of the younger Shistavanen. The two of them were not quiet. Mune had bandages around their head. They looked annoyed, ears back and tail lashing about irritably. The younger Cinteroph either did not pick up on the body language or ignored it. Anyone knowing Carr could guess which quickly enough. Mune turned their head, glaring daggers at the boy, “Would you stop following me?”
“I am keeping an eye on your stupid face, so you don’t go pull some other idiot move and get your idiot self more hurt!” Carr shouted.
Mune, head turned and not paying attention to anything but their brother, walked right into a post. They fell over, sprawled on the ground only a few feet from Zig and Eleceos. They stared at the sky through unfocused eyes.
“Oh. My. Gods! You can’t even walk properly!” Carr shouted, arms thrown up in the air.
“Spirits… take me now… or so help me, I will end him,” Mune muttered.
“Well? Are you getting up?”
“When my ears stop ringing.”
“Need the doctor again? Maybe she can check if any of your brains leaked out of that crack in your skull,” Carr snarked. “Oh! Hey Captain!” Carr hurried away from the prone Mune, ears perked and tail wagging.
A moment to myself, finally, Mune thought to themself with a sigh of relief. Since breaking the connection with Eleceos and Marick, the Shistavanen had been in the fort’s infirmary. The physician claimed they had a fractured skull and a definite concussion. Mune did not care; they wanted nothing to do with staying in the facility. It took Carr’s whining to convince them to spend the night. Now they were lying on the ground staring at the sky, cursing their brother’s name. When Mune had suggested they could just heal themself, the physician had snarked back, “Sure, push yourself with your fancy wizardry some more; that has worked well for you. Oh, wait, no, you collapsed.” Mune had stared before pouting like a petulant child and letting the medical staff do their jobs.
“Hey… Eleceos?” Carr grasped for the Miraluka’s name. “Mune says you’re friends. They’re enjoying the ground right now, but I am sure they say hi too.”
“I hate you, Carr,” Mune grumped.
“Hate you too!” Carr called back.
Golden fingers slipped from the knobs and switches as the red and green KST-100 Kestrel Transport settled into the spaceport. Diyrian leaned back against her seat, knotted and grime covered green curls bushing over the headrest. She closed her eyes with a deep, tired sigh that seemed to release what strained threads of energy was keeping her awake and together.
“I would advise you to turn L4-C1A back on,” the KX Security droid beside her spoke for the tenth time since last night. Blue-green eyes opened and glanced in his direction. His silver and gold plating was marred, dirt and scorch marks replacing his luster. 4R-7H3R reached out and gave her chair a squeeze with his left arm, his right stuck frozen and limp at his side as sparks occasionally sparked from the gauge on his back. Him suddenly covering her in battle as the enemy swarmed through the Turbolaser encampment, the ascendant striking him, all of it flashed through her mind. The faux-Zelosian shook her head and pressed a hand to her temple.
“Noo,” she groaned lightly, mostly at the question, a good distraction, “She gonna yell about the blood in the…” Diy gestured at the door behind them, both of them knowing she referred to the hull where they had been assisting transporting the greviously injured. Those needing medical in Estle City.
“She will understand the terms…eventually,” 4R-7H3R replied. How did a droid voice sound so solemn and tired? “If not take a break and sleep, please Miss, seek some fresh air while we wait.”
After a moment of staring out the starboard window, Diy conceded and got up. Stumbling through her ship, eyes wavering on the ad hoc med stations The Lady’s Flower’s staterooms and galley had become. Several medics lingered, cleaning up supplies and packing to go assist more on the island. Two of them stood near the hatch conversing, a taller Selenian man with shaved auburn hair and a familiar short Ryn woman whose yellow gaze quickly noted the Kiffar’s approach.
“Come, there’s still work to do…” That firm yet understanding tone the old woman uttered when she first returned to Estle as a dazed heap echoed through her mind. Vai encouraging her to push through and assist them, and not at all impatient on waiting for the next transport herself.
“Go on ahead, Ronpa, I’ll catch up,” Vai urged the young man, who frowned and shrugged before strolling down the ramp and off. “Hey, thanks for your help, lass. Some of them men might make it out with their lives now.” The Ryn flicked her tail slowly and sighed. Doesn’t matter how much one worked a combat zone, the fact lives are lost, that patients may not make it hangs real and heavy.
Diy just nodded, swallowing and not knowing really what to say. “I…yeah, anytime– can help, I mean.” Kark, she rubbed her face and leaned against the bulkhead.
“Take a breather, lass, you need it.” Vai gave a small sympathetic smile and reached up to squeeze her arm lightly. Moments like this made it easy to see the old lady’s and Jeanie’s relations, sometimes seemed carved from different rocks. Vai’s comm buzzed and a moment of quiet fell on them as the Ryn listened. “Affirmative, Med unit Usk on route,” she replied before turning to Diy, the other handful of medics hurrying past them, “Gotta go, Diy, take care, Kay?”
And with that the Ryn whistled through her nose, summoning her small droid, and jogged after her unit. The pilot watched them before leaning against the hatch’s entryway and staring off at nothing.
“I did what the Clan expected of me out there Qyeria, it was you and the others that held the fort proper. But there is still work to be done in the jungle to many of those raptors got away to cuse an issue for us. I’m going to go out there and start my hunt.” He said rolling his neck to with some auduable cracking.
“I’ll radio if I need anything, or to help guide more troops into safer areas.”
Qyreia broke her temporary malaise to put an arm on his shoulder. “Medics and repairs first. Going out there when you’re not at one-hundred percent puts you and whoever’s with you at risk.”
“Holding real tight, don’t worry…” the Mirialan replied with faux bravado, trying to jog her memory on how she’d actually crawled into this mess.
“Uh, let’s see. I went in from underneath the left wall, where it’d collapsed pretty intact. There was space to crawl in, and after that, I think a right and down. Not many options than forward to be honest, but I guess I should be in some sort of basement area? No clue how else he could have survived with the rest of the house falling down.”
The air was getting rather stuffy, especially talking as much as she was. A few errant coughs interrupted her explanation as fine grey dust choked her throat, but for now she was still ‘ok’. The hand she was holding onto seemed to relax minutely, though whether it was out of calm or simply a loss of strength she could not tell.
A long sigh escaped the Siths lips as he resigned himself to her truth. “Very well but I’m not staying long.” He said pulling away from her and making his way over to the medical station
Sera reached, at first, to her good eye; still the same brilliant blue, despite the dark, ominous circle beneath it. Then her fingers shifted, tugging idly at the strapless patch.
“A dead god happened,” she replied, her lips quirking into a wicked little smile. No further explanation was needed; it would have been interrupted by Vix’s transmission, in any case, spurring the Zabrak into a new flurry of activity.
“You heard her! Focus on the left side. Cut through, make space, someone call a med-team, and Strong…”
She turned her gaze to the Garmis, nodding at the massive slab of duracrete that the engineers were currently cutting into two chunks. “I hope your deadlift is up to form. We have a small mountain to move.”
Ele heard the commotion and saw the outline of his new friend on the ground. They’re energy was acting strange, especially in the head area, indicating a brain injury. Likely a concussion. The Miraluka headed over to make sure Mune was ok.
Kneeling down by the Shistavanen, Ele smiled.
“You feeling ok? Seems like you took a bad tumble.”
Mune grinned some, “Oh! Just resting! You know… fresh air and all that!”
Carr glanced in their direction and rolled his, “You walked in a post…”
“You distracted me!!!” Mune shouted.
The older Shistavanen grunted, sitting up slowly, vision swimming for only a second before righting itself. They grinned sheepishly at Eleceos, “The physician says fractured skull, a concussion… apparently I made it worse when we were linked with Marick. All it took was one raptor knocking me from Goremonger’s back and my head bouncing off the duracrete… insignificant as I thought it was… well,” They smirked a bit, trying to make light of it. “I cannot sit in that infirmary another night.”
Carr was growling some, annoyed.
Eleceos chuckled with a tinge of worry as well. He offered a hand to help Mune stand up.
“How about I take you back to my room? You can rest on a bed away from the infirmary and I’ll do an examination and healing session on you. I know something of not feeling at peace in a room like that.”
Mune took the offered hand, getting up easily enough, again their vision swam, eyes losing focus for a second. They sighed softly, “It would be the smart thing to do… but… there is work to be done is there not?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Carr’s voice came angrily.
“I am the elder sibling, Carr, do not even…”
Carr stomped over, lifted a hand and actually flicked Mune on the nose. The white-furred Shista shut up immediately and, eyes wide, and blinked.
“Did you just…?”
“Yes. I will do it again too!”
“You would not d…”
Carr flicked their nose again. It was a strange display. “Listen to Eleceos.”
Mune opened their mouth to argue again. Carr readied to flick the older Shistavanen. Their muzzle snapped shut and they turned to Eleceos, “Okay. We will do that.”
Zig, for once, quietly watched her crew banter, he mind drifting elsewhere.
A rustling of local flora announced the presence of Luka as they emerged from the jungle edge. They seemed exhausted, with scrapes on their limbs and dried blood caked on their forehead. Bico trailed after them, a low growl rumbling in the Nexu’s throat if anyone got close. Her behavior was quickly chastised by the Knight. “I’m fine, Bico. It looks worse than it is.”
The human wandered the tarmac before finding a familiar face. They rushed over to a female red Zabrak who was taking advantage of the beer that she called ‘barely more than spit’. She crunched the can in her fist before tossing it away.
“Looks like you had some fun, Zarkot,” Vreva mused, gesturing to the cut above her fellow Force User’s eye. She wasn’t much better off, having just as many if not more marks than Luka had.
A distance away was a more unfamiliar face to the Arconans. A tall human man with dark cybernetic eyes observed those approaching the supplies, looking for anyone who might require his assistance. He made his way towards the medical station. “V Moretti,” he introduced himself to the first person he bumped into. “I was told there might be some cybernetics that need my attention?”
As Ele and Carr walked Mune to the room, the Miraluka tried to keep tensions calm.
“The best thing that you can do right now, Mune, is heal. Without your abilities, the Clan and our Crew, would be at a significant disadvantage. And if you were to get even more injured, those who love you would be unable to avoid that pain as well. It is your responsibility to protect them, correct? Than get the rest and healing that you require first, so you’ll be able to do your duty.”
Ele them looked to Carr and waved a finger at them.
“And you, no more flicking my patient.”
Bridge of the Voidbreaker II
Doon stood by the holographical map, highlighting areas where squadrons were deployed but haven’t answered. He flicked the data across the map to send to the recovery crews. Meanwhile, chatter constantly chirped from his wrist plate. Reporting losses, requesting assistance with rubble, assuring someone’s inbound. His lips curled into a snarl as his head hung over the map. He was exhausted.
He flicked a switch on the gauntlet, killing the incoming Comms. Silence was all he needed. Just for a few minutes.
Reluctant claws dug into a mouthpiece that he took a long breath from. Sucking in as much Bacta fog as he could before releasing it in a hacking cough. How long was he supposed to keep up with it again, A week? He growled softly at the thought and set the mask teetering on the edge of the table.
There was much to do. But he needed a few moments of silence to gather himself.
Strong simply nodded as a response, pulling a roll of tape from his pocket. He wound it around his palms, flexing his fingers and slapping his hands together.
“ I trust you will find the Garmis deadlift technique, passed down for generations, to be more than adequate!” he proclaimed, moving to start shifting rubble.
Carr frowned but stopped, “Well then… you flick them then.”
“No one needs to flick me…”
Mune followed. Everything Eleceos said made perfect sense. They could not perform their duties if they were still injured. The physician had been angry they had pushed themself the way they did with the head injury as it was.
“Good luck, Skar,” Qyreia said quietly, thinking to wave but refraining as he hobbled away. He would do as he willed anyway. The Zeltron opened her hand to see the ID tags, and almost as quickly clamped her fingers shut.
I need to sit down. Someplace quiet.
It was a long walk to get anywhere without transport, but so long as she could keep moving, it would be a good distraction. She needed to clear her head. There was so much stress around her; so much anger and pain that it filled the racial-empath’s head, and she needed to just get away. maybe there would be some quiet solace at the seaport, or in one of the little parks out toward the residential areas.
Infirmary
Everything smelled wretched.
Over time Socorra had grown used to the scent of blood, sweat, puke and piss, having survived countless arenas, vendetta after vendetta, planet A to Z, an awful plague, Sith indoctrination and now crystal abomination. War was what she was forged from, the Arconae of old saw to that; there could be no weakness in or from battle.
But yet it all now made her vomit.
The desert woman’s bronzed features scrunched up in disgust before she leaned over her cot and involuntarily puked her guts out, stretching blood-soaked bandages nearly everywhere as she did so. Neither the moving nor the retching helped the amount of pain the human was in but that she was used to and would never not be.
The beskar Erinos family armor laid in pieces on the ground nearby, ripped to shreds by both crystal shrapnel and impossibly powerful raptor teeth. It wasn’t clear if all of the pieces of either had been fully removed, she couldn’t tell with the amount of bacta covering herself. Socks was down to a simple band holding her mountainous peaks in place and a tight pair of shorts keeping her somewhat modest - someone else had done that, she wouldn’t have cared.
As she looked down at her rune-covered and not so obvious expanded belly she realized the miracle that it was intact. That a tiny life in there had somehow survived the war despite her vow and devotion to see to Ruka’s survival before her own. Socorra vaguely remembered his voice, Uji, and others, shouting, freakouts, the revelation; Everything was more or less a blur after the grenade and crystal rain, but among the voices Socks was pretty damned sure Wyn had fainted somewhere.
The woman wiped her mouth with the back of her burn-scarred hand and attempted to recollect the rest of the past day and just what she felt exactly about the unexpected and poorly timed information. However, her face scrunched back up again, the scent of her own puke on her hand nauseating her even more. Socorra’s kohl-rimmed eye threatened to tear up and the laceration on her forehead danced as her dark eyebrows creased.
She needed a distraction fast and looked up at the bustling med station. Medics were hustling, carrying bodies and supplies from cot to cot, slapping bacta here and there, controlling blood loss and amputa–
–Her raven head went over the side and again her gut vomited until dry heaves. The stench, the taste, the texture…
Socorra’s hand snatched her nearby spear - thankfully still intact - and used it as a crutch to get her the kark out of there as fast as possible, wobble-barreling through the door with all due haste before the next nausea wave.
Doon ears laid flat, trying to cut out the rest of the chatter around the bridge. His eye closed, attempting to give him even more solace from his situation. With sagged shoulders, he tried to distance himself. But his mind kept coming back to the sheer number of losses. Each one. Each name he’s heard called out so far.
He felt his surroundings melt away, forming a thick, sticky mud at his feet. He couldn’t see, but he could Feel. It would take days for the news of this to reach every last family, sibling, son or mother of those that were lost. It would shatter each and every one in their own way. Each fallen tear, each anguished wail. Every choked, suppressed Sob.
He could feel them.
He couldn’t pull away. The mud was too thick, and he could feel himself sinking deeper into it. A darkness lurked below the surface of the sludge. Is this universe full of nothing but grief? The words shook him. Echoing from that dark pool below him.
He finally shook free. His eye opening and quickly darting around to take in his surroundings. He was on the bridge again. He could hear chatter, the thrum of the ship. And the sizzle of fresh tears that splattered the holographic projector that had been running hot for the day.
Doon carefully pulled his claws from new groves dug into the edge of the table. He flicked his Comms back on, trying to focus on the information flooding in as he took another deep breath from the bacta inhaler.
The workers manning the equipment watched first in amusement when the giant of a man stepped into their work area. Bets were exchanged over their closed comms, the guy working the earth mover that was meant to clear away the cut up slabs betting the loudest against the Chiss daring to step in and do his job without any gear.
‘Won’t even budge the first piece of rubble, done care how big the son of a gundark is’
Strong squatted by the duracete, working his fingers under the edges and taking a deep breath. He exhaled as he smoothly stood, legs straightening as he lifted the debris and pushed it over, letting it land with a crash that he never saw, as he was turning to the next one.
“The ground is rather unstable. Perhaps that excavator would be of better use where it will not threaten to cave in any underground shelters. I shall assist the cutting team, friends!”
Over the team’s comms was largely silent, aside from the one guy who was laughing maniacally, having placed a weeks wages on the Chiss.
The Kaleesh hobbled along his way taking care to avoid the path of others as they were moving equipment and bodys around. His eyes were ever scanning the dead and injured to see if he recognized more of the men and women he had trained but few faces were recognizable from the dust and blood. There was a small part of him that hated this bloodshed, a small part that wished for peace if only for the briefest moment to that no more had to die for battles that were not even theres.
But he knew that would never come war would always find it way to the clans one way or another. There would never be peace for him or those around him not while those who wished them harm lived. But those were issued for another time and place for now he needed to be looked at so he could get back to what he did best and hunt and kill those enemies.
Comming to the medical center the waited for the door to slide open when it did and he tried to step through he bumbed into a woman carrying an spear similar to his own. When the two collide the Sith excepted her to stumble back and fall but the two simply bounced back a inch or two and stood still. This perpexled the Kaleesh as he looked down at the woman taking in her appearance and wounds.
“You should be in a bed not walking around.” He stated knowing that his own appearance was not much better
Sometime into the excavation procedure, the heralded med team arrived. They split off into a couple trios, one primarily focused on the found soul and the other, well, they hoped to only need to assist and not have a second patient to tend. Vai dropped her pack beside Ronpa and crouched, her hands starting to pull out a smaller med pack. She turned to him with a gesture of her chin as she checked supplies and swapped out what she needed now, “How’s the batt pack?”
“Still has some juice, but going to need to replace it if we get a few more of these,” the Selenian replied, latching said device back into the hover stretcher and pressing a few buttons. He shifted, slinging it back on his back as he stood.
“Good enough.” Vai snapped the small pack closed and clipped it to her belt. Her ruddy color tail flicked sharply as her gaze shifted to the recovery efforts, searching for the one in charge. With the dust rising and rubble shifting, she didn’t have time to find out who. The old combat medic gestured to Ronpa and the other medic before briskly walking closer to the wreckage with her small medical Droid hoovering after.
Vai hopped up on a block of duracrete nearby, her short lithe frame easier to be seen, and lifted a hand to her chitinous, holey beak nose. A shrill whistle pierced through the air, even cutting through the machinery hums and rumbles. “Hey! Clear all but the last bit that’s on them, ya hear? Do not remove it until we get in and clear them. Got it?”
Upon returning to his room, Eleceos had Mune lay on his bed. The Miraluka did a basic physical checkup on the Shistavanen, and found the basic injuries that Mune’s physician had detected. His checkup wasn’t an amazing show of his skills but enough to at least lead him in the right direction.
“The Force can greatly aid in the healing process, as you well know, but brain injuries are tricky. While I can help, you’re still going to need to take it easy and rest.”
After his lithe speech, Ele placed his gloved hand on Mune’s forehead and concentrated. He felt the warmth of the Force flowing through him and into his friend. With practiced ease, the young Jedi soothed the inflamed tissues and mended the physical damage he could. It took a time to almost his task.
As he ran his hands down Mune’s body to aid in the healing process, Ele unconsciously hummed a tune from his childhood. His melody was quite lovely and unknown to him very pleasing for others to hear.
Going to throw up, must get out, move go go go!
That was all Socks’ brain registered as she barreled through the infirmary door despite the screaming injuries and re-injuries; she was an expert at using the spear as a beskar cane now and could probably get around in zero-G with it.
There was a sound halfway between an oof and an ugh when the woman crashed into the Kaleesh, her dark, waist-long war braids flinging into the air while the rest of her did not. She looked up in a daze with one kohl-rimmed arctic eye and just.. stared at Skar in bewilderment, her face mere inches from his.
He could see Sith runes slowly actively spreading underneath the bandages where the worst of the scars would be, her bronze arms and shoulders alone sporting full rune sleeves and threatening to smother the Soulfire and Erinos crests tattooed on each.
The two Dark Jedi finally meeting after all this time… anywhere else, any other time, it might have been a literal stand off. Instead Skar found the woman only partially there, something she never would have allowed anyone to see otherwise; Shadesworn only ever showed strength and power and half-witted was akin to a moment of weakness.
The scent of his clothes wafted up to her newly sensitive nose, the stench of dried, old blood and other bodily fluids still powerful on the robes.
“You…” was all Socks managed to speak before her face scrunched up and, as if solidly punched in the gut, she suddenly began to vomit on the Kaleesh.
Mune sighed softly, trying to lay still but they kept looking around, studying the Miraluka’s quarters. When Eleceos spoke, Mune focussed on him and his words. “The physician was adamant I not try and heal myself with the Force, I believe, because it would cause strain that while concentrating… Any help would certainly be appreciated.”
Mune listened to the pleasant humming, letting himself drift into the serenity of it. Calm, warm, safe.
Carr hovered, watching with ears perked and tail swaying lazily. Unlike his two older siblings, the youngest Cinteroph was not Force sensitive. Seeing Mune at ease, and calm, Carr found a piece of floor to sit on and keep an eye on them both, unncessarily so.
“Sorry I collapsed out there,” Mune’s eyes were closed while he spoke.
The woman got one word out before the vomit came, it splattered over the chest of the Kaleesh as he stood there so stunned he couldn’t even move the smell of the bike making his nose curl in disgust. Closing his eyes he willed himself to not lash out in anger or rage it took a great deal but eventually he let out a sigh and took a step back to give her some space. Reaching up he began to undo the clasps the held his chest plate together and with a click they came undone allowing the heavy amour to fall to the ground with a pound thud. Underneath his body glove was still mostly intact save a few holes and burns but was least it wasent covered in vomit for the time being.
Bringing his eyes back over to the Sith before him he took in her demeanor and how she was recovering. He could feel the wounded pride radiating off of her like water flowing through a creek and he understood feeling. Looking around the Juggernaut made sure no one else was watched the pair before he moved to her side and began trying to move her gently out of the doorway and away from the medical center.
“Come we will find somewhere quiet away from the others.” He said firmly making it clear it was not a request.
Edema walked down the line of prisoners, her helmet hid the hare she was giving them but any of them with even the slightest of force sense would feel the hate that she was projecting. these people had attacked, hurt and even killed her friends and family, it took all her restraint not to ignite her sabers and hack down a few just for the revenge.
The Prism came in to land as Edema walked on past the prisoners of war, dejection defeat and embarrassment filled the are around them, they all had the face of a person that had been on high and suddenly plummeted to the depths, humiliated by the very people they saw as inferior. Her cousin waiting at the foot of the lowered ramp, her helmet under her arms and the biggest smile a Sephi could muster on her face
Jor shouted to her cousin as she walked towards her.
“Trust you to miss all the fun, I do hope that dad is happy, I can feel your frustration from here. Get your Sephi butt up here so i can give you a hug and fill you in. The fun is far from over, you will get your share of action yet.”
Socorra wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and mumbled out an awkward “sorry.” At least outside it didn’t smell so bad now. She was going to offer to have the armor cleaned and polished but then he left it. The woman found it strange, but picturing someone else roving around in his armor was entertaining on several fronts.
Socks sighed outwardly and reluctantly moved in whatever direction Skar was suggesting. She needed to get her addled head straight anyway and maybe the beach or something would help. A beach full of raptors probably.
And bodies, of course. Blood on the sand, in the ocean, the air… gag
As Ele worked over Mune, he couldn’t help but pick up feelings from the two Shistavanen. Carr had feelings of annoyance radiating off of them aimed at Mune. Ele understood why a siblings would feel this way.
Mune on the otherhand was actively trying to block Ele out. Some feelings still made it through. High levels of agitation, aimed primarily at their time in the infirmiry. Mune was on the verge of a panic attack, so Ele did what he could to calm them down.
“Hey Carr, would you be able to give us a moment please? Feel free to get yourself whatever you need and run it under my tab. I promise to take good care of Mune. Nothing will happen to them under my care.”
Uji remained where he had been since he’d delivered Socorra to the medical unit following her being placed in his care by the Proconsul. He watched the interaction between Rrogan and the Erinos. He nodded accepting that another Arconan had taken responsibility for Socorra and that he was no longer necessary in the role. Although they rarely spoke, Uji trusted the Kaleesh enough to allow him near his own daughter and assumed he could handle whatever Soccora needed.
Pulling a data pad from within his robes, he scrolled quickly through the messages from his wife Satsi, from the Bleu’s and the other families nearby confirming their relative safety in the after math of everything that had taken place. Many of them having gathered at the Tameike household to lock down. He needed to find Ruka, or Qyriea and let them know he would be departing as soon as a transport could bring him back to the mainland. Slipping the data pad back into the pocket he’d taken it from, he set out across the camp looking for anyone he recognized that could point him to where either of the leaders were.
Carr looked a little skeptical but, with a heavy sigh ge got to his feet. “Fine. I’ll go find something to do.”
Mune’s eyes followed the other Shistavanen on his path out the door before turning them back on Eleceos. They gave a quizzical arch of a brow. “He is just worrying over nothing,” Mune said softly. “I promise there is nothing to worry about, no matter what you may be picking up.”
They tried to smile reassuringly but it was a little frayed along the edges. Tired. They sighed, resting back against the blankets. They inhaled deeply, focusing on the breath then letting it out through their nose. Calming. Centering. “I do not mean to make you worry. Or him. Or anyone for that matter. I will recover, I always do… without doctors jabbing me with pointy things and putting me through head scans and…” Mune cut themself off.
Ele concentrated his efforts on soothing Mune’s mind. The body will heal easier if the brain isn’t running wild.
“You do not make me worry. I worry because you’re my friend and you’re in pain. And it is Carr’s job as your sibling to be concerned for you.”
Ele spoke with a soft voice, trying to remain a soothing presence for the Shistavanen.
“I can tell that you have some misgivings for doctors and hospitals. I do understand the discomfort they can cause, hence why I brought you here. If you would share with me your reasoning, perhaps I could help you.”
He continued his minstrations along Mune’s body and head, keeping a constant but level influence of the Light Sides healing potential.
“If it is too personal, I understand. But having shared a mind with you. I feel like I might be able to better understand.”
Mune’s grin widened some, “Yes, we did share minds for a time, but I made sure that all the doors were closed and locked for a reason.”
Even so, the Shistavenen studied the Miraluka, thinking. After a moment, they glanced past to make sure Carr had not returned, then spoke haltingly. “I do not stay in hospitals, or infirmaries, because of past… experiences. I do not talk about it often or openly because it… still haunts me… I suppose.”
They turned their gaze to the ceiling, the surface quite fascinating right now. Anything to focus on other than the memories. But… “It is very personal… but… I also know as sensitive as you are you will glimpse it… accidentally, one day. And I rather it be my choice to share it.”
So Mune started talking, explaining to Eleceos some of the intricacies of their past. Their father, a geneticist, having done things to Mune and their elder sibling whom none in the clan had ever met and hopefully never would. Mune spoke of spending days and weeks in a lab, being jabbed and scanned and put through tests. How just the smell all labs and hospitals and infirmaries seemed to have could cause them anxiety. There was plenty left unsaid, still more traumas, but, Eleceos wanted to know specifically why the fear of hospitals… “I spent years in a friend’s lab not so long ago, before returning to the Brotherhood. When the same lab that scarred me infected me with something… so… i refuse to stay in them. And trust me, you do not want to glimpse the memories, even accidentally.”
Eleceos gave Mune his full attention. He didn’t interrupt, ask questions, or make any noise in response to Mune’s story. He waited patiently taking in all the information.
When Mune was finished, Ele took a few moments to remain silent. He would not show the Shistavanen pity, as he himself would find that insulting. Someone as strong and willful as Mune wouldn’t want their image changed because of knowledge of their past. Ele would always respect that and honor their friendship.
“I understand. Your thoughts and feelings on this are valid. I mean this as your friend, and in no way as a signal of shame, but I am sorry for what you’ve been put though. I have so much respect for who you have become despite your adversities.”
Ele felt his power growing weary and slowly cut his connection, instead just gently soothing Mune’s muscles.
“I will be available to you as a substitute for hospital care. Know that with me you need never fear such actions. I value you for you, not for what I could learn from you.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. It is in the past. Though Carr does not know and I would like it to stay that way… for the time being.” Mune stared at the ceiling of the room, deep in thought, the memories near the surface again. They sighed softly, “It is… kind of funny… in a way. I rely on those same powers that drove my father to do what he did… to me… to my elder brother.”
The Shistavanen chuckled some, “Thank you, I appreciate you listening. Know that I appreciate you too.”
Carr came tromping back in, “Hey guys! I got some kind of tea that is supposed to be good for healing and soothing!”
Mune winced. Carr padded over and put two of the beverages down, one for Mune and Eleceos. “I thought it could help! Or… you know… whatever.”
The Sith lead the way for the pair weaving in and out of the moving throngs doing his best to steer clear of most of more wounded pack of people. It didnt take them long to reach a part of the base that had already been cleared out and as mostly devoid of extra personnel clearing rubble and pulling bodys out.
There were a few left over crates that stood alone in in the open and that’s here he lead the woman
“Sit.” He spoke moving nearby unlciping the water canteen from his belt and placing it on one of the crates for her to drink from if she was willing. But for now he gave her some space wait for her to sit and clear her head
Fort Blindshot Residential Amenities
Part of Marick wished that Dajorra on a whole were a safer place. He liked to think that without Clan Arcona’s presence, Selen and the other worlds would be worse off. But sometimes, he wondered if that was the truth. Or was that simply the narrative that had been ingrained in him since he first set foot on Selen as a stowaway trainee all those years ago.
The former Shadow Lord and Dark Councilor had seen devastation on a scale that few could comprehend. Entire systems, planets, populations reduced to ashes at the snap of a finger from the hands of Dark Lords of the Sith and their rivals. He, too, had been a harbinger of death and was in no way absolved or above that responsibility. Yet for all his power, and all his knowing, he was still, at the end of the day, just another body in a vast and every growing galaxy.
Still, there were those that needed him. There were still ways he could make a difference. Nothing would ever fully erase his slate or forgive the things he’d done, but he was still standing. Against all odds. And he would continue to fight and protect those who could not protect themselves.
Life before death, journey before destination…
Ashen, annoyingly fine hair parted to reveal a tranquil, stoic visage. The Hapan’s bright blue eyes stood out against the faint shadows of fatigue creasing his otherwise radiant features. He had changed into a simple black bodysuit with gray fatigues and a gray long-sleeve shirt. No outward wounds were visible, but he worked with an air of somber seriousness that he had not realized was creating a ward-like bubble around him.
He blinked a few times as he looked up from the bandage he was wrapping for an Eldar Ranger. Her codename was “Twitch”, and she’d lost her entire squad to one of the Crystal Ascendents. She had continued to fight, even after what she had witnessed, and had volunteered to help despite her injuries.
“Try not to move it too much,” Marick explained. “Force Healing can do wonders, but your own body will need to do its share of the work for someone with your skills.” Rangers tended to use their bodies in more taxing manners than the typical citizen. The truth was that he just wasn’t as good as Atyiru or Wyn when it came to this kind of stuff. He did field triage at best, hardly a real medic.
“Thank you, Lord Tyris,” Twitch replied.
“I told you, Marick works fine.”
“Understood, my Lord,” she replied with a tight smile.
Marick sighed as he looked around the residential facilities. The personnel that took up residence on the island military complex, separate from the barracks that housed the garrison, were mostly the families of the AAF enlisted. While most had been evacuated, some had stayed to fight and gave their lives so others could make it away from the Children of Mortis’ invasion.
A small group of children had been gathered together into one of the larger recreational rooms that had been filled with cots and supplies. The children, fortunately none too young as to not stand or sit on their own power, were being attended to by medics and social workers.
Marick unknowingly balled a fist at his side as he watched them. Orphans. Something sank inside his chest, a wave of unfamiliar melancholy he thought he’d long learned to suppress. Perhaps Atyiru had been right–even the hardest of hearts of stone could soften over time and learn to beat again.
“This one is named Mr. Fluffalufugus,” a small, bright voice filtered through the ambient din of commotion. Marick turned to see a small girl with a basket on wheels sitting next to one of the orphans. She handed a stuffed loth-wolf plushie towards the crying boy, who looked to be a year or so older than her.
Kirra Araave Tyris smiled as the Selenian boy took the toy and held it close to his chest. “He will protect you, just like Papa will,” she explained with a bob of her head of white messy hair.
Marick felt the wave of unease dissipate almost instantly. Not from locking it away or suppressing it, but because of the hope he saw and held every time he looked at his daughter. Her life, from the day she had been born, had not been easy or simple. And yet, she never frowned (unless she sensed someone else was unhappy) or complained (unless the yams were being rude to the other vegetables).
Kirra patted the boy on the head, then took her basket-on-wheels to the next cot. She glanced over her shoulder at Marick and flashed a big toothy grin and waved.
“She’s an interesting kid,” Twitch said from beside the Hapan.
“You should see her mother,” Marick replied quietly. He shook his head slightly. “Are you sure you’re up for helping with this, Twitch?” the Master Arcanist questioned.
“Oh no, how horrible. You want me to help transport the recently orphaned children to a shelter you built just outside of Estle City? Oh, no.” She rolled her eyes.
Marick nodded once. While he had fostered many initiatives in his time as a Shadow Scion, Lord and eventually Dark Councilor, this project seemed to finally be the right one.
He could not prevent war and conflict from plaguing Dajorra. What he could do, however, was provide a home for those who lost, and to help give a future to those who might not have one otherwise.
It was the least he could do.
Life before death…
The woman sat as ordered, although more or less on her own accord rather than the whims of the Kaleesh. She had stolen Rrogon’s memories some time ago yet had difficulty bringing them to the forefront, and everything in the back screamed to be wary of him. Socorra was not sure what it was or why, other than always be wary of the machinations of a Sith.
Or anyone, really.
Especially hers.
The desert native sat in silence, with her braided head cocked sideways as she studied her raptor-tooth mangled arm that bandages weren’t really doing much for. Socks was fairly sure a limb shouldn’t look like that, but it didn’t hurt. Actually there wasn’t much feeling at all.
She grunted and nodded to her own thoughts. If Rrogon expected word vomit then clearly he didn’t know who her mentor had been.
Eleceos chuckled at Carr’s re-entrance. He was finished with what he could do for the moment, so he stopped his work and stepped back from Mune.
“I’ve done what I can for now. You should feel better. I still want you to take it easy. And Carr, stick by them please. A concussion is never anything to mess around with.”
Ele walked over to the other Shistavanen. He graciously accepted the beverage with a friendly smile.
“I can certainly tell you care about Mune. I wish I had siblings like that. The only close family I ever had was Atyiru, and that was fleeting. Until I tracked down the Clan, and she came back, I was alone.”
Carr pulled a face, “Ew. That is too mushy for me… gross. I don’t care about Mune… their just… family.”
Mune rolled their eyes, sitting up and smirking. “Oh spirits. You do! You care!”
“Shut your dirty mouth!”
“You totally do!” Mune teased, grin widening.
“Shut it! You’re gross! You too! You’re both gross!” Carr crossed his arms and pouted quite dramatically.
Mune chuckled lightly and stood. They waited for the world to shift under them but it stayed steady. They eyed the other Shista before adding insult to injury, “Love you too, little brother.”
“Ugh!” Carr stomped out.
“Hey! Are you not supposed to keep an eye on me?!” Mune laughed then shifted their gaze to their friend, “Thank you, Eleceos. I appreciate your medical help, and your listening. It is nice to talk. Perhaps we should rejoin the others? Carr will follow, he has been my shadow since the battle.”
Zig had to keep herself busy somehow. So she had found a workbench, grabbed a plasma torch, and started to tinker with a few pieces of broken technology.
Her ears twitched a bit as she remembered she should probably be checking in on more people. She pulled up her datapad and tapped out Doon’s communicator code. She pressed send, and waited to see if he’d answer.
Doon doesn’t notice the beeping from his communicator immediately. His ear flicked a few times before he caught it over the drone of the other Comms. He runs his paw over his face and snout before answering. He peered down at the screen, head tilted so his hood eye could see it properly. “This is Doon.” He answered quite straightforward.
Diyrian sighed deeply and stared at the jagged holes in her flight suit, poking a finger through one sadly. She’ll have to get it patched, no, burn it and buy a new one. That’s how we handle our problems. Another sigh, the faux-Zelosian shrugged and zip the suit up fully, letting it hug her shoulders more securely.
Returning back to barely people watching, a prowling nexu caught her attention as it circled around two people. Bico? Her eyes widened as she focused on the figures, Luka and the airdropped Zabrak. Hopping down the ramp, Diy jogged towards them, slowing down when she neared.
“Luka?” No ‘babe’s, no quirky quip, her tone while normal was edged with concern. Her ocean gaze was asking if they were okay.
Zig held up her datapad and made sure she was framing her whole head in the camera. “Talk to me, Doon,” she smiled as best she could. “Did you re-open any injuries or have any set backs? Are you hydrating?”
The Shistavanen thought for a moment, going over a quick self check list. He was in armor, even if he didn’t need it on the bridge. So it was Unlikely he could have reopened his chest wound. Set backs? There were plenty. Water? … there would be time for that later. “I am fine. No major setbacks that couldn’t be addressed. I have water here. I’m also not the one you should be concerned for. I’m still in the safest place of this entire ordeal.” He glanced around the bridge, making sure everyone was, in fact, fine before looking back down at Zig. “Do you have anything to report on your end?”
Zig slouched a bit. “No casualties from the Voidbreaker crew, mercifully. The ship, like you said, she’s tough as nails and will be okay. On the AAF front…” she looked at all the damages and then at the injured soldiers hobbling or being wheeled to transports off the island. “Doon. How do you do it?” she asked, exhaling slowly.
“You’ve been in the game longer than I have. You’ve lead packs, crews, jobs. Is this just how it always is? Even when you win, you still feel like a chunk of you was torn away, so, why do we do it? Why do we choose this lifestyle over others?”
Doon stared hard into the screen, his glare hiding a twisting tearing feeling he felt inside. He has lead before. And it never ended well. Still, he did understand something about leading. “Why do Leaders lead?” He pondered for a moment, trying to form the proper words in basic which lacked much of the nuanced Growls words for this type of philosophy that Shistavanen has. “Everyone leads for their own reasons. Internal drives, or external motivations. Recognizing why you lead may help you lead better. But My answer will not be the reason you lead.”
He pauses for a few moments, rogue rolling between his teeth. “I lead, because that is my duty. It is my duty, because I know I will lead better than I will follow anyone. I was born for it. Trained for it. It comes naturally. But beyond duty, you have an obligation to those you command. As they must rely on each other in battle, trusting the soldier next to them with their life, they must rely on you for more than that. Not just for their own well-being. You lead the fight. You must do everything you can to keep that fight alive. No matter the losses, each one of them trust you to continue the fight. We have not failed the dead, not yet. Only when we stagnate, when their monuments crumble, when the fire of hope dies, when they are abandoned and all they fought for is is forgotten. That is when we fail them. As a leader, you must never let that fire go out. It may fade in the eyes of the lost, but never in the hearts they inspire. A good soldier knows they may die. But they know that you will give that death meaning. That is why I lead.”
He closes his eye for a moment, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his memories calm. “You will lose a part of yourself as you lead. That is our sacrifice. But that is nothing compared to what the lost have given.”
Zig was quiet for some time. She listened intently to the grizzled veteran’s surprisingly deep words. She had figured out long ago that Doon was much more than what he appeared to be on the surface. Society as a whole was quick to right off ‘brutes’, but Zig knew better.
Still, the words hit her, and while the pragmatic engineering part of her mind digested and squirreled the wisdom away, she still felt something in her stomach turn. “How do you know that you’re worthy of that trust?‘ she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper. "What if while everyone praises you, and says you’re doing good, but still you feel small and weak…” she trailed off, fidgeting intensely with a hydrospanner between her clawed fingers.
Again, Doon considered her words. His golden eye took in her stance, her worried words. He could tell her the harsh truth he knew: A bad leader would end up with a vibroknife in the spine, while someone else takes the position for the crew. Such is the way of pirate gangs and mercenary ships. Instead he carefully worded a more digestible, supportive stance. “You look around. You count those who rally under you. You count those who fell under your command. No one comes here to war for a cause they don’t believe in. No one fights under a banner they do not trust. Weakness is irrelevant. Strength is shown in many ways. While I may be able to wrestle with the strongest, you are far more capable of developing relations. My strength can pry a door open. Your strength can get the guard to open it for you. I offer strength in order and trust in reliance. You offer strength in bonds, laughter and joy. They are not exclusive, but complimentary.”
He shifts his weight slightly, attempting to get more comfortable. “You are not weak. You simply need more experience to see that. And when you do, your leadership skills will improve even more.”
“Thanks Doon,” Zig smiled, and hoped that the holocam was distorted enough not to show the thin trails of water running down her cheeks. She leaned back, still holding the datapad up in front of her. She closed her eyes, rubbed at one with the back of a closed fist, sniffled once and then let out a slow exhale. “I appreciate all of that. Make sure you rest. If you want to join the rest of the crew, some are out hunting raptors, others are around the starport helping where they can. Thank you for holding down the fort. I don’t think we would have held the Starport without your efforts.”
She closed the datapad feed and then lowered it softly to the work bench. She looked around for a new part or piece to weld, something to focus on. Her hydrospanner slipped and fell to the floor. She glanced around, saw no one really paying attention, and then dipped down to grab it.
Once down, she stayed there, sitting on the floor and scooting under the protection of the workbench. Her unbraided hair formed a protective curtain in front of her face. She sat there quietly, and replayed the last two years of her life.
She remembered her first sparring with Karran. Remembered Sera’s smile and warm welcoming. She remembered Alaisy, mysterious and alluring, somehow giving her the time of day. She remembered striking back at the Dawn Conclave, their battles with the shadow monsters of Selen. The Voidbreakers victories played in contrast against their loses. She remembered finding Karran, the pain he had went through.
She remembered the Crystal Ascendent nearly killing her. It would have, had Sully not saved her.
She flashed to the new Ascendent. With weapons powerful enough to pierce beskar and rival even an Elder Arcanist.
Her head tilted back, hair parting slightly, and her sand-yellow eyes stared forward. She held her composure and would not let it slip, even in the safety of her temporary hideout. She continued to think.
“I would say hold tight,” Sera grunted into her comms as another sizeable load of shattered concrete was quickly and carefully dumped to the side. “…but I know you’re doing that already. Just a few more moments…”
The excavation team was making quick work of the small mountain of rubble currently stacked atop Vix’s position. Strong had a lot to do with that, of course; he could move perhaps as much as any of the heavy machinery they had present, with far greater dexterity and care. With the excavation team sawing away, and Strong playing the part of organic bulldozer, Sera was left assisting where she could; tagging on to lift the heaviest loads, staying out of the way of her more professionally gifted subordinates. Effectively…she was useless.
Unless…
The Zabrak steeled her hearts, and took a deep, dry, rattling breath. Her one good eye, reddened from dust and unshed tears, squeezed shut. Sera reached out to the Force, and felt the wall once again. Stony, cold, implacable, blocking her sense, blocking the song. But, this time, she refused to budge. This time, she wound up again, and pushed.
The wall broke like a dam. And with it came a flood. Grief, anger, pain, exhaustion, the finale to the symphony of war. Urgency, like thousands of wires held under tension, the minds of the dig team moving in synchronized, frantic tandem. Strong, steadfast, stalwart, as per usual. Deeper, Vixca, her spirit literally buried beneath the rubble, but still tangible, still bright, washing over the dimming life of the man she held. He was still there. Still breathing. But fading…fading…
“To the left. Under the fourth column. Only a few feet further. Just…just…dig carefully…” Sera’s voice hitched as she spoke, the flood continuing unabated. For, it was not only Vixca and her single survivor. More souls stood out beyond her, bright and desperate notes of sound that pierced the cacophony around them. They were…agonized, broken, twisted.
And terrified.
“…there’s four more beneath them. One is…critical,” the Zabrak continued, her brilliant blue eye flashing open, her voice retaining a note of steel. “We need more excavators. And…and a trauma surgeon. Now.”
She did not wait for anyone else to carry the order out. Still riding the note of urgency, the razor-wire scream within her hearts, she sprinted to find the people that were needed…before time ran out.
Arcona’s youngest Summitter had been missing. Well, less missing and more purposefully avoiding all the people saying she should rest. People were hurt, raptors were still hanging out in the jungles and the Voidbreaker had apparently got a hole larger than the one the ascendants should have been karking themselves with. So she’d left the medbay with little resistance, new patients constantly incoming making a easy exit for a short Human despite the large metal brace weighing her down from the thigh down.
It had been longer than Zuza intended to make the journey. Hours. The island was quite big and well, maybe Avery had been partially correct about the state of her leg. The brace had seemed unnecessary, having no visible injuries on it, but every step hurt and there was a weakness she wasn’t used to. Turns out having a chunk of the interior of your thigh muscles stabbed/eaten/exploded out of was really bad. And then running round a battlefield on said leg when the muscle hadn’t quite fully healed yet… was worse. Significantly. So it was quite a trek that had the young Rollmaster actually using the stupid crutches.
Until she made it to the Voidbreaker anyway. She didn’t want them to be worrying, there was enough injuries as is and a stupid repeat strain.. internal rip wasn’t a problem for them. So, Zu slipped the crutch into her belt and limped her way around outside the ship, looking for anyone or the entrance ramp into the hangar. Whichever came first.
Until whatever came first turned out to be the crutch itself swinging unexpectedly on her hip. She didn’t even notice the movement until it slapped her encased knee and by then it was too late. Zuza yelped as she tipped forwards and landed face first into the ground with her arms flailing in the moments of panic before impact.
Doon erupted into a hacking cough as the communication closed. He raised a paw to cough into as he began settling, mostly ignoring any moist mist that bloodied his palm. Instead, he watched as the communicator fades into a Black Mirror. He blinks at himself, once more feeling a dark tug. Empty words from an empty man.
He set the communicator down, and lifted the mask to his maw. He took a pain breath of bacta while reassessing the map infront of him. Most of it has been worked out, with little more to gain if he continued sitting around screwing with it. He pushes away from the hologram and addresses the room, bacta fog leaking between his teeth as he spoke. “Acting command stepping off the bridge. Keep those alerts routing to our crews.” With that, he left the bridge, walking slowly as to not loose his breath. One paw clutched the inhaler, the other occasionally twitched near the hilt of his Saber that quietly clanked against his armored thigh as he walked.
Zig could have sworn she heard a familiar yelp, paired with a clattering of plastic against plated flooring. Maybe she was imagining it. But, maybe someone needed her help.
She exhaled slowly, then tucked her unbraided hair back behind her ears, but left it straight and down. She puffed at a some stray strands and crawled back to her feet. Her ear twitched as her head caught the edge of the table just as she rose.
“Karkin…” she mumbled as she rubbed the side of her heard and gripped her fallen hydrospanner.
When she looked over towards the boarding ramp to the Voidbreaker II she froze in place and blinked a few times.
“Zu…?” the Zygerrian asked carefully, though she could clearly see the Rollmaster…rolling on the floor.
There was a delay on response as Zuza stilled in place, contemplating if this was really happening.
It was.
She raised her head from the floor and tilted it to see Zig atop the boarding ramp and offered a strained smile, “‘sup.”
Strong cocked his head as he heard orders ringing out, halfway through tossing another heavy slab of duracrete. He grit his teeth and instead pivoted, dragging it away and squatting in place to set it down with care. Without pause he moved to the next chunk in the way, the knowledge that they were nearly through invigorating him further.
Zig tried to keep a straight face, but failed instantly. A smile pulled at the corner of her lips, then it broke into a full on smile with fangs as she chuckled, “Clearly not you…” she gingerly crouched down and offered a hand.
Zuza propped herself up on a elbow before taking Zig’s hand and between the two of them, the short Human was soon back on her feet with crutch back in hand.
“Thanks. Though, where is everyone? Thought this place would be crawling with folk.”
Zig glanced around. “Some went to go hunt raptors. Others are helping clear the rubble. I know Mune, Eleceos and Carr were around here somewhere…uh, I was just um helping with some boring engineering stuff before you got here…” she went to go tug at her braid but realized that there was no braid, so it just looked like she was awkwardly tugging on her own head.
She looked Zuza up and down and then frowned. She almost pressed more and was going to say things like I should have come see you, you shouldn’t be walking, but stopped short as she met the Rollmaster’s eyes.
She doesn’t need me coddling or fawning over her, and probably doesn’t want to talk about the wound…
Instead, she tried a different tactic. “Nice little scratch there. No worries- I hear chicks dig scars,” she smirked. “Dare I ask how the other guy looks?”
“Considering the VB looks as bad as people were sayin’, it needs all the boring stuff you can give it.”
Zuza had already been preparing a defence as Zig trailed off. She shouldn’t have been fighting, or walking, or out of the medbay or come sit down for a minute.
But then Zig didn’t do any of that.
She smiled, relieved and leant back on the crutch to flick her hair back stably, “He’s a bit melty. Uh, few missing bits and bobs y'know? I hear chicks dig short hair, so it looks like we both got an upgrade hey?”
Luka gave a reassuring smile and brushed their fingers through their bedraggled curls. “Not as bad as it looks. Sure the doc will say the same. Those beauties have quite a bite, and my usual charms don’t quite cut it. A shame, really.”
The female Zabrak looked between the two of them, observing their interaction over her light beer. Finally she spoke up. “That’s Zarkot. Always picking up strays. You one of ‘em, missy?” She seemed less interested in what Luka had been up to, her focus roaming over DIY. “Quite a time we had, huh?”
Eleceos drank his tea before smiling to Mune. He had enjoyed this time as well.
“Going out and helping the others does seem a better use of our time. I shall follow your lead. I want to keep an eye on you regardless.”
As Ele right on what he said her gender sheepishly.
“Well…not an eye…but…. you know what I mean.”
Mune chuckled softly. They ledteh way back through the ship, bringing their tea with them to savour on the walk. Carr of course beat them outside. He had intended to go complain to the captain that Mune was being annoying but… the younger Shistavanen had seen she was busy in conversation with Zuza and decided to respect them by keeping his distance. At least he had respect for Zig. He turned to see Mune and Eleceos coming down the ramp.
“Ugh… why are you following me?” Carr crossed his arms and scowled.
“Making your job easier, you cannot stay by me if you are out here and I am inside, now can you?”
“Fine. Whatever. So you know though… I don’t care.” Carr huffed.
“My mistake,” Mune grinned. “I suppose Eleceos and I can believe you.”
“Karkin’ right you can. Now drink your tea so you get better quicker,” he demanded. “And none of your fancy Force mojo. I trust Eleceos’ ability to heal you and stuff but… Just don’t. Or else I’ll tell the captain to order you not to.”
“Right, okay. I will make sure you need not bother the captain then.” Mune grinned over their shoulder at Eleceos, “Maybe we should ask the captain where we are needed?”
Zig flushed, and quickly looked away, then back at Zuza. “I missed you,” she said quietly. The Zygerrian stepped forward bravely, kissed the shorter woman on the nose, pulled back, and then turned to face the gaggle lead by Carr.
“Private-Deputy-First-Class-Second-Mate Carr Cinteroph,” the Captain drawled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Been looking for you.”
She nodded at Eleceos and Mune.
“Whatever it is you think I did, Mune did it.” He pointed at the older Shistavanen with bandages still around their head.
Mune arched a brow, “Cares so much he automatically tries to diverte the blame to me…” they muttered to Eleceos with a grin.
“Sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to interupt you and Miss Lottson. I was coming by to askif you would order Mune to… stop… being… dumb.” He scratched his cheek with a claw, seeming to realize just how wierd that whole request sounded. He glanced at his sibling then back at Zig, then back at his sibling… and back to Zig. “So… umm… nevermind. What can I do for you Captain!”
Doon’s meandering path brought him past many doors. Each one caused him to wonder if there was still someone planning to come back to them. He shook his head of the thoughts in an attempt to keep a clear mind.
His twitching ear caught the distant voices before he saw anyone. Zuza, Mune, Zig. He left the belly of the ship and approached the ramp, taking yet another breath from his inhaler to make up for the constant walking.
From the distance he was at, he warily eyed Mune. If anyone was going to uncover him, it would be the white Shista. He was tired, and likely to slip up. But at the same time, Mune should be even more exhausted. Maybe he’d be fine.
His face was its normal stern half snarl as he bears the group, nodding to them in general. He remains silent for the time, not wanting to interrupt.
Zuza grinned as Zig pecked her nose, managed to lean forward enough to press a return kiss to the Captain’s chin before slowly adjusting herself to face the group.
“Dumb huh?” The Human chuckled, shaking her head in amusement but not taking main stage and letting Zig do her captain-y things. She had her own duties really, but the new kids had all survived. They could do round up later when there wasn’t medics breathing down her neck.
Her eyes quickly spotted the movement of the larger shista hanging out back, and offered him a return nod.
Zig narrowed her eyes towards the young Shistavanen. “For starters, we can talk about ignoring orders and hopping into one of the gunnery officers controls.”
She tapped clawed fingernails against her forearm. “The officer in question apparently stepped away on the threat of…” the Zygerrian glanced upward as if recalling the wording from the report, “‘… a threat of his datapads browsing history being sent to his husband.’”
She raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Carr. “Sus.”
Carr paled some under all that fluff, “Sus for sure. Mune, why would you threaten such a thing!?”
Mune’s grin turned into a full-on smirk, “Yes… why would I indeed.”
Carr looked absolutely indignant then carried on, “Well, who ever made the threat doesn’t matter. I saw a post left unmanned and totally wanted to ensure the safety of the crew! It was my duty!”
Mune tried to remember if they had ever been a troublemaker like their brother. They shook their head, memories of sneaking into an old library after curfew, clear as day. Books did not blow things up. “I do not believe you have duties of the… shooty shooty… nature… At least I hope she has not given you duties of that nature.” Mune’s gaze shifted to the Captain, a steady gaze that said you better not have. Or perhaps even oh gods say you did not. Either way, Mune looked tired while giving the look.
Mune did not seem to notice Doon’s presence.
Eleceos stood back as the Munr and Carr shared this humorous moment with the Captain. The Miraluka didn’t want to intrude on this slight teasing of the young non-crewmember. The back of his mind tingled though, alerting him to a new presence. It wasn’t the shorter female Zig had been speaking too, so Ele turned to see a large figure having left the ship.
Taking a few steps back, he wasn’t noticed as all attention seemed to be on the Cinteroph siblings. Ele walked over to stand next to what he could tell was an injured and large Shistavanen. It was Doon Sulvir, whom he mainly knew from reputation only as they’d never really spoken.
‘May I offer some assistance to you, Doon Sulvir?’
Zig tried to keep a serious face and expression as she met Mune’s eyes. It faltered slightly as she smiled. “The only ‘duties’ I’ve assigned the kid are to not break anything. So, technically, he followed his instructions. I just guess I need to be more specific when giving out orders to Executive Freedloaders.”
Doon’s eye followed the approaching figure, having forgot he was there at first. It took a moment for him to process who it was, and what exactly that meant from him. He could feel Eyes on him. But not eyes, not from Eleceos. His realization caused him to flinch and withdraw, but not physically. Doon’s presence faltered as he overcorrected, turning into a black hole to the blind force user.
He took a step to the side to face Eleceos, inspecting them. Hoping his efforts where enough to not give him away. He shook his head, then paused and opted to speak with a soft rumble. “I am fine.” He certainly was not fine. Not long ago he was skewered through with a Beskar spear, one that barely missed his heart and instead pierced a lung. He was being held together with constant infusions of bacta fog for his lung. But that wouldn’t cure this ailment long term. Beyond physical, he was still dealing with the efforts of the battle, and under the weight of the losses he helped track. That was back lit by a general unease, one that caused him to flinch away from the other force users sense.
Mune’s features relaxed in relief. “I am glad.”
Carr pulled a face, “Executive freeloader?!”
Mune ignored him, “Thank you for keeping him in line. I am sure he appreciates your kindness, Captain.”
“R… right! Of course! Thank you Captain… or… whatever. I really was trying to help you know.”
Mune turned to say something to Eleceos but saw their friend had wondered over to… Doon? Mune waved to the larger Shistavanen, giving him a warm smile before shifting their attention again.
“Captain, Eleceos and I were wondering if we were needed anywhere in particular?”
Carr looked annoyed again.
“Of course… I know to be careful and take things easy with the injury… or my brother’s face will get stuck with that glare and scowl on it.”
“I feel those particular orders.” Zuza chuckled, although at least Carr was more amusing in his attempts than some of the doctors had been.
There was a high-pitched giggle before the lightest of touches was felt on Uji’s shoulder from behind.
“Tag, you’re it!” the female voice taunted. Lost in his own thoughts, by the time he looked with his own eyes she had vanished into thin air, the very concept well known to him. <@272527052396298242>
Even standing on a rock and whistling didn’t grant the short Ryn much attention. To be fair, it was difficult to hear much over the mechanical wurr of machinery and crash of stone. Vai frowned and narrowed her eyes as she crouched to hop back off the block she stood on. “If I have to wrestle them to karkin’ stop, I will.”
Ronpa chuffed quietly, the only break to the serious focus on his face. “I don’t doubt it–”
A flick of her tail and a raised finger cut him off. Vai pivoted, yellow gaze falling upon a Zabrak close to the front. Upon hearing what Sera said, the medic beckoned the other trio to debrief them. They were indeed expecting more than one patient. Sending those three after Sera, Vai nodded to Ronpa and the human woman assisting them before moving briskly towards Strong.
Another shrill whistle to the Chiss in hopes of grabbing his attention.
Diy gave a relieved sigh and reached out one arm for a side hug and squeezed. An echo of her trademark grin appeared, wavering slightly at the mention of the creatures, of crystal. “Pretty hard to charm a rock, Babes…”
Releasing him, she turned her gaze towards and up to the tall Zabrak she fought along side yesterday eve. A mix bunch of emotions welled up, once again the reminder of the fight, relief the woman had literally air dropped in to assist, annoyance at being called some stray to take in – some line she at one point info her life wouldn’t of minded or perhaps used herself. Apparently, Luka and her knew each other?
“I…yeah,” Diy leaned against Luka’s shoulder, managing to flash a genuine looking grin. “Certainly was a damn time! Gotta say yer entrance was quite memorable, Miss?” She inquired for a name.
Zig nodded along and glanced sideways at Zuza. For very selfish reasons, she wanted any excuse to stay near her. But, for the time being, she was still Captain and so folks looked to her. She considered Doons words and her own musings in the back of her mind.
“I’d say try to stay out of the way of the nice engineers working on the ‘breaker II,” she gestured with a thumb towards the Minstrel-class space yacht. “Which means, at the very least, no one should be hacking any of aforementioned nice engineers personal devices to use as leverage to get something they want but aren’t supposed to have. Savvy?”
She didn’t look directly at Carr, and in fairness made eye contact with everyone (or blindfold contact, in Eleceos’ case), but she did let her naturally dark-outlined yellow eyes finish on the young Shista.
The Kaleesh waited idely by as he watched his fellow Sith compose herself. He watched as her eyes fell to the mangled and destroyed arm at her side. Looking down at his own he couldn’t begin to understand what she might be feeling but he could at least emphasize with her a little bit.
Coming closer the Kaleesh knelt down and extended his hand to hover over the wounded arm of the woman.
“If the medics and doctors cant help this then I might be able to. If you would allow me that is.” He said calmly waiting for her response
The massive Cythraul matriarch moved about the camps and facilities, assisting the young, the old, and the wounded after the battle, having seen her own fair share of combat. The wounds would heal and the blood, mostly the enemy’s, was concealed by the midnight black fur. The children didn’t notice and enjoyed her company and the mother space-wolf would often go out if her way to make them happy.
With a huff of exertion Akua slowly lifted herself on all four legs, gently lifting the group of excited children settled onto her back. They giggled and laughed as they held onto her fur like reins, their little feet swinging and flapping at her sides.
After taking them around to the refreshment area she brought them over to where Kirra was with the others. Despite having fought many, many wars with Akua at her side, Socorra had left her beloved companion with her young niece for extra protection this time.
Akua sidled up to the toddler, paused with the youths aboard, then bent down and sprung back up. The kids squealed with laughter as they popped into the air before safely settling back down into the comfort of her warm fur. As slowly as the Cythraul had risen she also laid, allowing her precious cargo to unload and deliver themselves.
After greeting each child and offering them toys from her small cart, the little one-eyed girl offered a plushy to the massive wolf that towered above her.
“Aunny Sawks needs you,” she stated matter of factly, white ringlets bouncing with her enthusiastic nod. With a giggle she booped and bapped her on the nose with the plushy.
Akua was confused by the stuffed toy but at least understood the message to leave and find her wolf-mother. Gently mouthing the tiny toy on the end of her giant maw, she half-bowed and sprinted to Marick nearby to let him know she was leaving the camp. With the toy flapping in the wind as it hung from her muzzle, the Cythraul charged through the camps and into the open grounds.
Karran approached the group hesitantly with a clear look of relief on his face, especially when he saw Diy. In all of the chaos, he’d not heard much news about many of his friends and loved ones. But he breathed much easier seeing familiar faces, but also an unfamiliar face. He resolved to wait to make his presence known, so as to not intrude.
It did not take long for him to also make not of Vreva’s presence as well. She was difficult to miss. Though they had only met once, she had made quite the impression, and he did not forget impressive people.
“Ah.. sure?” A dark eyebrow raised slightly as she watched the Kaleesh closely.
Nodded sat her reply the Sith closed his eyes and concentrated on the Force within himself and in the area around the pair and began to draw it into his body letting it flow through and out of his hand to try and mend the arm of the woman before him. As the energy escaped his body the fatigue hit him like a wave almost instantly but he pressed on not wanting to leave the job half done.
He paused mid motion, arms flexed, muscles corded and veins clear from shoulder to hands.
“Madame Vai!” he exclaimed cheerfully, turning to toss the chunk of debris towards his growing pile. “A pleasure to see you well.”
“We can talk pleasures later, Stres'tron'garmis,” Vai waved him off with a flick of her tail. Her yellow eyes firmly held his red gaze. “I need ya to let us through when you uncover the lass, understand? Can not move what’s crushing the man until we get to him ‘n’ give the okay.”
The Force flowed from Sith to Sith and the woman’s arctic eye opened wide. It had been some time, years, since she had felt healing through darkness. Like a familiar scent from long, long ago it brought memories of much different times, much different people, a whole different clan and Brotherhood entirely.
It reminded her of who and what she came from and the dark lessons learned along the way. Strength, power, glory.
Socorra looked up at Rrogon Skar Agrona and nearly smirked. The fog lifting slightly, she recalled his memories now. If only the DIA Director had the patience for idle mischief.
The crushed and mangled arm did not heal but did not grow worse either. Some of the smaller wounds mended themselves and turned into Sith runes before the Kaleesh’s eyes.
A commotion in the distance grabbed the attention of her single eye and she peered around the muscled wall with a furrowed brow. “What is that,” she questioned, the exotic Socorran accent rolling off of her tongue. But as soon as she asked, she knew…
“Oh no…”
Instead of attempting to shove the Juggernaut to the side, the other Juggernaut stood and moved…
“Akua, no! Aa'kua aa'kua!” Socorra shouted as her wolf-daughter plowed through the trees and underbrush at all-out speed, aiming for the pair sitting on the logs. The woman braced for impact but the Cythraul skidded to a stop in front of them, kicking up sand storms and dust clouds and shoveling a trench where her front paws slid. Before Socks looked up she was already covered in giant licks and nuzzles and nearly lifted off of her feet with a salivary, furry greeting.
So much for strength, power, and that darkity dark osik.
“Far be it for me to argue with a medical professional of your caliber, Madame!” he jovially replied. “I believe I am almost through, so please prepare yourselves!”
Vai nodded and turned to her team and catching their gazes. She signaled for them to get ready, jerking her chin towards Strong to indicate they go when he calls – a call they certainly won’t miss in this din. Ronpa shifted the hover-stretcher strapped to his back, while the human woman did one last check of her supplies.
“We make sure the lass is safe first, then move to the man,” Vai instructed. She shifted her attention to their third medic, “See to her if no critical wounds. Ronpa and I can get the lad.”
The woman nodded. With their marching orders settled, they waited for Strong’s signal.
“Hey! That sounds like an accusation!” Carr grumped.
“She was talking to all of us,” Mune said with a smirk, “Though, if you feel it is about you… perhaps that is something to reflect on?”
Carr opened his mouth to retort before snapping it shut again and staying quiet.
“Good, hello Doon.”
Mune padded over to the larger Shista and the Miraluka, leaving Carr to grumble. Approaching Doon always reminded Mune how small in stature they were in comparison to other Shista. They smiled up at him before reaching out to clasp Doon’s forearm. If allowed they’d draw the taller Shista down to brush whiskers and the side of their muzzles, and draw in each other’s scents. Mune remembered the surprise the other Shista had expressed when shown the greeting the first time. Intended as a way to refamiliarize oneself with a close friend, or family.
“Letting your body heal, I hope?” Mune asked, releasing Doon’s forearm.
“No rush, take your time…” Vicxa coughed into the comms as another stream of dust and pulverized duracrete slithered through the cracks and landed on her face.
Doon bent forward as Mune tugged on him, allowing the smaller Shistavanen to greet him. His eye closed, nose twitching as he waits. His sense of smell was nowhere near where it was before he lost his eye and ear. Still, he was able to recognize the scent of another Shista.
He went to rumble a response, but it got caught in his throat as he stood straight again. He suppressed a hacking cough, managing to keep it to a clearing of his throat. “I’m fine.” He responds again, hoarsely. His eye opens and darts around at the others, not sure if they were familiar with Shistavanen greetings like that.
The Hunt is on
Location: Crater Jungle
Edema, Jor’ana and Sho’la flew low over the jungle, it would be the first time all three had worked together as a trio, let alone gone actually hunting. Edema was used to hunting people for bounties so hunting actual prey would be interesting. The shuttle’s beacon transponder was on in case any of the others wanted to catch up and join them, but they had better be quick, or the prey may all be gone. The Nightfall Prism II flew low and slow, its main ramp open and ready to drop off the three huntresses. The Shuttle would fly over the jungle to keep overwatch and provide scan data should the team need it, and when required it would collect them and their catch.
Edema watched as the trees raced below them, it was exhilarating. She had missed recent events so it would be good to try and make up for it by engaging some of the reptilian pests that were now roaming the jungle. It was also good to be with her cousin and her partner, the three of them together made her feel like they were invincible.
Jor looked over at her cousin and Sho’la, her helmet hid her eyes and expression but she was smiling. It was good to see Edema happy, connecting with her old love had re-lit the flame that had been fading in her soul, Jor was happy. Turning to look at the jungle she saw the clearing they had picked as a start point coming up, soon they would leave the safe metal confines of the Prism and jump into the teeth of the jungle, she relished the thought.
Sho’la stood beside her girlfriend and love, her heavily armored robes drifted around her blue coloured body, he lekku twitched as the shuttle flew low over the trees. The armour had been a gift from her love, heavily protected but still enough for her to move around, Edema could not bear to see her love harmed, so until she could acquire a beskar harness suitable for her, she had given her these beautiful armored robes. The blaster at her hip gave her a sense of comfort as did the other gifts that adorned her wrists. The Ancient Sith Lanvarok had been another gift from her love, worn on her left wrist it had been modified to fire explosive disks and tailored for her lack of significant force abilities, while the Twi’lek had some fringe force abilities, her strength in the force was limited at best to the point where she was still unconvinced the tests had been right. On her right wrist sat a gift from Jor’ana, Edema’s cousin and given the closeness of their relationship, one would have thought them to be sisters or even lovers, but as she was learning, this was just how sephi are when they are closely bonded in family, and she was fine with it, She loved Edema enough that she knew she could get to enjoy being with Jor also, the very thought of being in a relationship that was so close with 2 people actually thrilled her and made her lekku twitch.
The gift from Jor was an ancient but well maintained Mandalorian gauntlet mounted projector weapon, this one was unusual for it had been modified to fire clouds of Cryoban and had a grapple launcher mounted underneath, The tank of the chemical was mounted on her back and linked via an armored tube. While she was not as heavily armed as her sephi companions, she was carrying more hardware than she would ever have been able to afford before. She looked ahead and saw the clearing coming up, it would soon be time to leave the safety of the shuttle and enter the world below them.
The Shuttle came up to the clearing and dropped low enough to allow the hunting part to leave the ramp, as soon as they were clear the ramp closed and the Prism gained altitude. The hunt was on and the three made their way into the trees to find their prey.
There was one final slab overhanging Vix’s position; an apex of flooring that was likely the only thing that had prevented her survivor from being crushed in the first place. Sera flanked Strong as the excavators descended on it, eying the massive chunk of concrete warily.
“We are right on top of you, Vix…uh, metaphorically. Hold a few moments longer,” the Zabrak urged, looking to Strong. “Ready, big guy?”
“Keepin’ on keeping on…” the Mirialan replied, blowing some dust out of her face. The rumbling of heavy machinery had been slightly unnerving at times, but she’d been in tight spots before. At least this one promised to have an extraction not involving lightsabers. Or so at least she hoped.
Strong considered the final piece, stretching and cracking his neck one last time before grasping the edge and pulling up with a slight grunt. Levering it up, he switched to a single hand to hold it up. His other reached down into the swirling dust and….
“Miss Vix! It has been some time!” said the Chiss with a modicum of relief as he pulled the Mirialan out by the back of her shirt, holding her up to eye level, a broad smile on his face.
The sensation of the rock lifting off her back was relieving in a way she had not expected, a quite literal weight having been taken off her shoulders. The next moment, someone was grabbing the scruff of her jacket, pulling her up even as rays of light finally reached the injured man’s face. Their fingers parted, a muffled yelp of distress ending swiftly as the light illuminated the bloodied man’s face, his crusted lips twisting into a stupefied grin. Dangling in mid-air by the Chiss’ meaty arm, Vix slowly rotated in place. “Haia!” she coughed, fine rock dust shedding off her clothes. “Strong was it? Though I guess that goes without saying….” she muttered, glancing at the bare blue bulging bicep. “We have got to stop meeting like this. Unless this is how you pick up girls on the regular?”
The big man flushed slightly, “Ah, hah! Ahem,” he cleared his throat and set her down gingerly, before turning his focus to the slab he’d been holding, moving it to the side and glancing down into the hole.
“Mistress Vai, it would appear you have a patient.”
“He’s pretty banged up, but lad’s got some solid grip strength I’ll give him that,” Vicxa murmurs, looking at the mild marks on her wrist. It seemed he’d been even more harried than her when the earth started moving during their excavation.
“It takes strength to survive,” Sera murmured, kneeling by Vix and Strong’s side. “To do it alone…would have been an even greater burden.”
The Zabrak gave the Mirialan an exhausted, pointy-toothed smile, her good eye sparkling. Then, she bowed her horny crown to the shorter woman, a sign of respect.
“Sera Kaern. It’s good to meet you…Vix?”
“Always a pleasure to meet new folks,” the Mirialan replied, wiping off her red-painted cybernetic on her pant leg and offering a shake. The arm was gone from the elbow down, and she made no attempts to hide it, the metal of the replacement limb worn and chipped under the bright red paintwork. “You win some and you lose some, huh?” she added with a hint of condolence. “But as long as you get to see the next dawn it still counts. Or half a dawn…”
Ele could feel the unease, and stress emanating from the Shistavanen. He was surprised to notice the large figure becoming a void is the Force, almost in reaction to his presence. It was a surprised, to be sure. Ele had heard of Sulvir’s distaste for Force Users, and realized the powers he had were probably a new development.
Giving a small smile, he spoke gently.
“I won’t tell anyone.” Ele turned away from the Shistavanen as he looked over the ruinous battlefield. “I do have medical training. With your injuries, I’d would be deeply honored to assist in your recovery, if you so chose to allow it. Though, if you’d prefer not, I would understand.”
Ele turned back and made “eye” contact with Doon.
“We are clanmates, after all. That means we’re kind of like… family.”
At Strong’s beckoning, Vai signalled to her comrades and slid down into the rubble pile. Ronpa and her shifted past the trio gathered, while their third medic moved to examine the Mirialan woman. The old Ryn crouched beside the man and immediately started examining him as her gloved hands pulled out an IV bag and tubbing. 5T-AN1U, the IT-S00.2 med droid, hovered over and scanned his vitals. It chittered away its findings and recommended treatments actions with an authorities beep.
“Already on it, Stan,” Vai grunted while inserting the IV and starting fluids. She turned to Ronpa who had set the stretcher down and was securing the man’s neck. The droid’s findings were listed off in quick procession, multiple fractures in the legs and ribs, possible crushed spine, multiple abrasions and contusions, swelling in the brain and internal bleeding in the abdomen.
Once they did what they could and needed prior to complete extraction, Vai whistled again. “Alright, time ta get this man out.”
Doon gazed down at Eleceos, his golden eye narrowed slightly. Was he seen? He let out a half rumble as he glances over at the nearby Destruction. The offer wasn’t something he immediately wanted to accept. Though, he felt the need to give him an opportunity to try to help, and perhaps discuss exactly what he had “seen”.
“I’ve been looked at prior… But that was before the battle. The bacta fog is only abating coughs, not so much of the pain. Where do you work at?”
Mune gave an encouraging smile, “Eleceos is a fantastic healer. He has helped my head some as well.”
Eleceos gave Mune a friendly thanks.
“I have been told that I do give good head work. So I’m glad that our session worked for you.”
He turned back to Doon.
“I can work put of any facility, or we can go to a more private area. I’ll do a quick examination, a slight Bacta bathing, but mainly the energy from the Force will do the heavy lifting of healing you.”
Mune’s agreement eased some of Doon’s worry. He rolled his tongue over his sharp teeth as he eyed the white haired man again. “Privately would be preferred.” He glances around at the others once more before adjusting his chest piece. Was it getting heavier?
His lip curled into a slight snarl, annoyed with his own shortcomings. All he did was walk outside and he already felt winded. “I’ll follow you.” He managed, claw tapping the bacta mask. “What exactly does the examination and bacta ‘bathing’ mean?” He questioned. The last time he went in for heavy treatment, he was quite unconscious.
“Well, as I am blind in the traditional sense for most sentients, my examination will be a mixture of consent approved physical touch, and well as the use of the Force to help determine the extend of your injuries. As a professional, any information gleamed from this will be private between myself as a medical practitioner, and you as a patient.”
Eleceos wanted to ensure that anything he discovered would remain between the two of them. Doon’s privacy would remain intact.
“As for the bacta bathing, it is just a technique where I would use an amount of bacta to quick start the healing process, and then the Force would be utilized to help assist your bodis natural healing abilities, speeding up the process. I would use some of y own energy to help cut the cost on your own stamina. Is this acceptable for you?”
With a labored breath, Doon sighed and nodded. More force, more healers. “Fine. That will be acceptable.” The last time he nearly died, he was dragged into a dusty hut by locals and barely stabilized after days of work. He spent months recuperating alone.
He cast his glance around at the small group that had formed. Eleceos wasn’t wrong. They were sort of a family. A pack. As much as Doon preferred his pack to be more tight knit, it was functional. He was on his feet working not a few days from near death thanks to them.
Something shifted inside Doon that caused his lips to twitch, and his breathing quicken. These people were close. But Doon never quite felt the same, being what he was. A lost, lame wolf exiled from a pack. But these people have accepted him as their family. He speak softly, his usually grumble underlaid with a soft whine. “Thank you all.”
“Just get better soft paws. Eleceos is an amazing healer, you’re good in their hands.” Zuza smiled up at the Shista, glad he seemed to be more open to accepting help and just, others in general these days.
Zig nodded a long, content to listen to the others. Her thoughts were elsewhere, conflicted. Should she tell everyone now? Would there be a better time?
Mune met Doon’s eye, filling their gaze with warmth and genuine kindness. Mune stood on tiptoe, not making that big a difference considering their difference in height, and whispered to the big Shista, “We are not lost anymore, Doon. Nor will we ever be again if I have a say…”
Mune backed away from Doon again, the smile still in place. Eyes still warm. They had become rather attached to the other Shistavanen. It was nice that there were a bunch of them on the Voidbreaker, after so long not interacting with any of their own kind.
Carr watched them curiously before turning his gaze back to Zig. “Umm… is it just me or are people here… more weird than me?”
Zig blinked once. She played Carrs words back and tried to get herself sorted. “Who wants to be normal? Normal means something is off or wrong,” she explained as she rubbed each of her arms like she was staving off a shiver. “Doesn’t get much weirder than the Voidbreakers, that’s for sure”
Carr cracked a wide grin, “Totally agreed. Thank you, Captain, for letting Mune bring me on board.”
He eyed her for a moment, brow raising in a question. “Are you okay? If you’re cold I can run inside to get you a jacket.”
“That’s very sweet, kid, but I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind.” She found the scarred helmet she had been carrying around. “I’m going to have to do some work on the beskar. It was a lot of work to get the ear-molds in place, but now the entire front vizor took a nasty hit from that Ascendent’s lightsaber. How did it even punch through beskar…”
Carr frowned some, watching her. He shrugged off his own jacket and with his ears down and blushing, handed it to Zig. The kid was trying to be a gentleman but looked awkward and could not meet her eye. “Here. And… you know… don’t worry. You have Ms. Zuza and the others and… well… me… I guess. I can help some, you know?”
Zig smiled at that, and took Carr’s coat carefully and then draped it over her shoulders like a cowl. She didn’t put her arms into the sleeves, but it did offer some insulation from the spaceports chill. “Such a gentleman. This doesn’t get you out of cable-management duties in the engineering room, though.”
Carr huffed, “I know… I know…” The grin came back to his muzzle, “I’ll even make sure to be on time!”
Zuza snorted, and did her best to hide her laughter in her elbow. Zig expected people to be on time for that stuff? Hah!
Eleceos gave Doon a nod. A hug didn’t seem to fit the situation, and he wasn’t close enough tothe Shistavanen to do said action without express permission. Ele respected boundaries.
“I will go and prepare a room for your healing session. Join me when you are ready, and comfortable doing so.”
As the young Jedi smiled and walked away from Doon Sulvir he began to pick up on the heightened emotions of his faithful Captain. Whatever was bothering her was deeper than something cosmetic, it was affecting her core. The Miraluka stepped towards Zig and gave a salute to his leader.
“Captain, it is good to be in your presence again. I am sure everything is alright, but as the ships Counselor, if you would like to talk or just someone to listen to you, feel free to let me know. Whatever is on your mind I would be more than willing to ease your burden.”
Zig would have met the Miraluka’s eyes, but still managed to meet his attention by looking directly at the blindfold. She’d found that treating Miraluka like they were like everyone else worked well in most cases. “Understood. Thanks, Ele,” she said, though she realized that the Miraluka was probably letting her off easy.
Doon nodded at the others, acknowledging their words and wishes. He takes a slow breath and follows after Eleceos, trying not to break out into Coughing as he walks. “Thank you, Eleceos.”
Mune watched Doon go and smiled tiredly. They padded back over to where Carr was hovering by the Captain, noticing the Captain with the other Shista’s jacket draped across her shoulders. Mune arched a brow but did not comment.
“Behaving yourself, Carr?”
“Heh… are you?” He sniped back.
“I may return to my quarters to rest my eyes,” Mune turned their gaze on the Captain. “If I am needed, do not hesitate to call on me.”
“I’ll come with, call me if ya need me!” Carr grinned wide to Zig, then grabbed Mune’s hand, making the older Shista blink uncertainly for a moment before letting their brother guide them.
Zig watched them go. She looked down at her helmet. She would tell them. For now, she took the time to reflect and just stayed quiet.