Hyperspace Aboard Erinos’ Oath
Eliminate the target with extreme prejudice.
Eliminate.
The words replayed in Bril’s mind like a broken holorecord as he idly brushed his thumb across the lengthy hilt of his lightsaber, Vigil. It was a weapon that conferred great responsibility upon him – an extension of himself and his drive to protect and uplift the galaxy’s most vulnerable. Much to his displeasure, that sometimes required him to take a life in order to save another. Would that be the case today? Or would the Living Force decide that Kosst Rissokt’s flame would continue to burn for another day? Only time would tell.
His pontification on the subject came to an end when the rest of his team entered his ship’s lounge area. Only one of the three was familiar to him – Rue, whose motley appearance and radiance in the Force made him impossible to forget. The other two, he didn’t know beyond the scant details in their dossiers – knew recruits to the Brotherhood. Bril dipped his head slightly to show the horns poking out from between his chestnut-colored locs, a common greeting amongst his people. “Good to see you,” he said, addressing the hybrid first. Then, he allowed his crystal blue eyes to settle on Gand and Dolot. “Hell of an assignment for your first mission with the Brotherhood. Can’t say mine was any different, though.”
A few taps on one of his beskar vambraces caused the wall-mounted holoprojector to his right to switch on with an audible beep; a few more caused it to project a three-dimensional image of a vast swamp in vivid color. “In case anyone needed a refresher on the details of the mission: our target, Kosst Rissokt, was last seen fleeing into the swamps of Uskil south of the Colosseum.
"Although the mission directive is to eliminate him, we’ll be taking a different route with me as the lead. Such as my right as an established member of the Envoy Corps. Our goal is to capture Rissokt alive. Understood?”
He waited for the others to answer.
“This was this one’s hope in volunteering for this mission when I saw it posted.” Rue’s lilting voice was quiet, elocution exacting, and his saffron eyes struggled to stay fixed on Bril’s bright blue eyes. But they kept coming back, daring in a way the Zabrak had not seen when first they had met, then nailed to the ground as he plead for mercy for creatures that were condemned to death. “To persuade against the ‘elimination’ of anyone. If Sir Starosta Bril has changed…then I am grateful.”
He glanced briefly at those besides himself.
“Regardless of rank or station. I have no problem with you leading.” His tone, while calm and not at all competitive, had an edge. “If you would enlighten me however, is there any strategic value in taking him in alive? Don’t get me wrong I am not so callas as to ignore the value of a life, nor its preservation. but if we are significantly increasing the difficulty of this mission. I would like a straight answer, why?” Feeling the eyes in the room, this was never pleasant. But he knew these merciful types well. while he did respect that way of thinking he had to know they would be willing to do what was necessary. <@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530>
Gand strode in, slightly hunched. Standing rather tall for his species at a whopping 5’3. A set of dark clothes consisting of a dark T-shirt tucked into dark pair of pants, ran down his body. A long, dark, leather duster jacket draped over, flowing down, ending just above his ankles.
Probably the most noticeable, accenting his dark purple exoskeleton, he wore a silver respirator, dark tubes hanging down slightly, trailing down to the pack on his back. His large, dark, almond shaped eyes, reflected the lights in the room. One of his eyes contained a silver outline, that spiderwebbed inwards like veins.
Gand squinted his dark eyes, peering around to each person in the room.
Surely they hadn’t heard. Of course they wouldn’t have. Why would they? How could Gand think so highly of himself that even his biggest failure be known by complete strangers? How could Gand be so vain?
He was quiet for a minute, mentally self flagellating over his wrongful, vain thoughts.
“Gand is grateful to be here, to be back on the field. Thank you for allowing Gand.” He said quietly. Chittering his mouth as he spoke, slightly muffled as it mixed with the sound of gas being released through his respirator. Hearing every heavy breath taken in.
He nods and his shimmery almond eyes turn their attention to the display produced.
“Bring in alive. Gand has made a mental note of this. A plan?”
Though uncertain if the Human was addressing Bril or the room, Rue dared to speak up again.
“Is not the value of any life enough?” Gold eyes peeked sideways, taking in pale skin and dark spiderwebs just barely peeking from the collarbones of robes with a haunted knowing. They went right to Gand with a similar but softly pained familiarity. “For what it is worth of a plan, Master or Mistress Gand: this one– I am extremely capable of healing. And could seek out the trappings of which the data warned would be likely. My physiology can survive a great deal, including total avulsion, degloving, electrocution, heart infarction, suffocation or drowning, burning, poisons or toxins fatal to many typical Near-Human physiologies…” he rattled on, listing several pathologies and possible tortures. “This way, the risk also is not so increased for others, making it more strategically satisfying, yes?”
<@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
“Let me clarify. I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment. I only mean to convey that I do not wish to Needlessly raise the difficulty of the mission with… Never mind.”
You watch as he pulls an old, ratty, yet, surprisingly sturdy Bag from his back. Pulling out a small brown parcel. Unwrapping it to reveal a small bundle of food. He extends the parcel to Rue. “Please, eat.”
He nods a greeting to Gand, and sat in a nearby chair, seemingly Reading over the Mission details.
“If Sir Starosta Bril has changed…”
The zabrak tilted his head at that comment. He could only guess that Rue was referring to his stance toward the caxqettes who nearly overran Selen last year. Although this was neither the time nor place to discuss that, Rue would no doubt be disappointed to note that he was still resolute in his decisions on that day, especially because they had saved his tai'shan, Minnow. Exigent circumstances required difficult decisions.
After listening to the comments of each member of his team and considering the points they made, Bril started to speak again. “To be clear, I do believe in the preservation of life and thus, would prefer to bring our target in alive. But there is a strategic element to this decision, as well. Rissokt and his crew were able to infiltrate a secure vault in the heart of the Brotherhood’s space. The planning, the intel that would require … to say the odds of a single pirate crew getting that far are slim is a massive understatement.”
Bril paused to let the weight of his words’ implication hang in the air before continuing. “Someone helped them, and it was likely someone from the inside. Bringing him in alive will allow us to discover the traitors in our ranks.” And by aiding the Brotherhood in this, he’d be indirectly helping keep his friends and family safe, as well. Simple logic.
“Rissokt is extremely capable and not one to underestimate. Don’t think that because he’s on the run, he can’t turn things around and turn us into the hunted. We stay together, keep our eyes out for traps, and back him into a corner he can’t slip his way out of,” Bril turned to Rue, “Your dossier says you possess the ability to alter local weather patterns with the Force. We could use that to help flush him out.”
At the words of Rue “For what it is worth of a plan, Master or Mistress Gand….” Gand immediately jumped and inhaled a quick breath, the sound of air rushed through the tubes of his respirator. This quick inhale of breath set his lungs ablaze, and the need to cough began to rise.
Refusing to allow his inferior self interrupt Rue, Gand held onto that intake of air, focusing on the words that were being said to him.
Once Rue finished his list of abilities, Gand finally exhaled that held breath. A string of coughs followed suit. Gand walked toward the closest wall and placed his three fingers upon it to sturdy himself as he continued to hack.
“Gand is no Master. Gand deserves no title. Gand deserves no name, not anymore. Gand is… Gand.”
He pauses standing upright after catching his breath,
“Gand is male, and those achievements are impressive, but we are in this together. Gand will help. Capturing versus killing.. Gand is fine with either.”
He tilts his head downward in a slight bow to acknowledge Dolot’s greeting before turning his attention to Bril.
“Gand agrees, inside j-, -eh- connections.” He paused for a moment contemplating on the right word.
“Gand makes explosives. Both types. some for enemy, some for friends. It may be useful.” He chittered.
<@1056685516441006091> <@397252802524610580>
“Oh,” Rue mrped when Dolot passed him the food parcel, accepting it automatically with a, “Yes, Master. Thank you, Sir.”
The Human moved to sit before the hybrid could offer anything else back, and then Bril was explaining further speculation about the mission.
But what would it mean, to discover the traitors by bringing him in? Would it be ripping the information from his mind? Physical tortures? Would he go to court, and someone like Elly would defend him?
As the Zabrak finished though, another, higher mrRRt! of surprise escaped Rue.
“This one has a dossier? But– it is not so worthy. Oh. Unless it is being studied again and did not realize. I thought…there were no more tests on the Outside.”
He fell quiet, looking troubled, snack limp in his hold. But Gand’s coughing drew his attention.
“Is Just Gand alright? Can I help?”
<@397252802524610580> <@1056685516441006091> <@267489687902486530>
“Many thanks Envoy Erinos.”
Hesitating, Dolot turns to Rue. Almost visibly softening as he addresses His new companion. Having known many a former slave, he knew the look and the way he spoke. “Ambassador, I would appreciate it if you would Refer to me by Dolot or simply "Dot.” I am no master.“
Once again addressing the group, "I will admit I am somewhat I’ll equipped to handle the increased Logistics of a live capture. I do not have the necessary restraints for instance.” <@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
As Gand spoke, Bril watched him carefully. The mechanical respirator seemed uncomfortable, especially given the hacking cough that cut through silence that had yet to settle within the room following Rue’s comments. He’d encountered species that required respirators to breathe in Class-I atmospheres before, like Tu'Q, the kel dor mercenary he’d served alongside during his time in Clan Plagueis; typically, they only had such violent reactions when their breathing apparatuses were damaged, but Gand’s seemed fine. Was his coughing fit the result of an injury, he wondered? Or perhaps a disease? His dossier said nothing about him being of poor constitution, but Bril knew better than to trust a document to provide a full picture of a living being and all their complexities and contradictions. “Hrm.”
To Rue’s, Bril shook his head. “No tests, Rue. You’re free from that. Think of a dossier as like … a brochure of you. Something someone else can look at to get to quickly get an idea of who you are and what you can do. We all have them.” Hopefully, that would be enough to ease the subtle panic he felt building in the hybrid’s mind.
He assessed Dolot last. “Don’t worry, I have a pair of stuncuffs in my pack. And if those don’t work, well, there’s always the Force.”
A few taps on one of his vambraces’ display pulled up a holographic clone of the Erinos’ Oath’s navicomputer. “We should be arriving soon. Make whatever final preparations you need in the meantime.”
He was filled with confidence by Bril’s reasoning and pragmatism.
“I will retire for a bit to meditate and prepare. If you will excuse me?”
<@1056685516441006091><@267489687902486530> <@244244163002892288>
Rue dipped a bow to the departing man, smiling at him. “Thank you, Ma– that is, Dolot.”
“Gand is alright.” His dark eyes focused on Rue.
“Gand’s -ah lungs are, not what they used to be. But Gand has remedy when in mission to help Gand.” An enthusiastic nod.
“Ah, thank you Rue. Gand does not deserve your generosity. If Gand can be of assistance to anyone here before we land, let Gand know.”
<@1056685516441006091> <@397252802524610580>
“Gand deserves anything,” Rue insisted softly, but bowed to the refusal of treatment – literally, a bow as he had given both Dolot and Bril. As ordered, he tried to turn his thoughts to the given task rather than the anxieties of what a brochure of him would be and what it said and who all we was that had them just these four of them here or also Hunyi or Elly or even Elly’s daughters…
Gnawing his knuckles, he approached the Zabrak and the holodisplay.
“Sir Starosta wishes this one to manipulate the weather? Can he tell me what it is like there? This one knows little of Uskil…”
<@1056685516441006091> <@397252802524610580>
Bril nodded to Dolot. “Sounds good.”
He made note of Gand’s explanation, offering a sympathetic smile.
After that, he looked to Rue to address his question. “Most of the continent is tropical – high temperatures and humidity, with many rainforests and marshes covering its surface. The northernmost region of Uskil are often ravaged by intense storm surges rumored to be Dark Side in origin. We shouldn’t have to worry about those because they rarely venture as far south as we’re headed.”
As Bril continued to explain the nature of Uskil’s climate to Rue, the rest of the team set out to prepare themselves for their mission.
–
Swamps of Uskil Arx
The first step Bril took off the Erinos’ Oath’s exit ramp plunged his foot into ankle-deep water. “Lovely,” he said while shaking his head.
The swampy terrain stretched onward for miles in every direction. Just a few hundred feet ahead of them, a ship stood, albeit tilted at an odd angle; the glow of its sublight thrusters indicated that it was still on, but its exit ramp had been deployed. Bril gestured to it and said, “That must be Kosst’s.
The ship didn’t look any different than the run-of-the-mill vessel commonly used by cargo haulers transporting goods across the Mid and Outer Rim. It was so nondescript, in fact, that he suspected that this wasn’t Kosst’s personal vessel, but one he and his crew had stolen for this very heist. Moving toward it to take a closer look, Bril noticed that the landing gear not only rested unevenly across the muddy surface, but was several inches lower than his feet. He sucked his teeth before turning to trudge back to others at a brisk pace. “Let’s get moving, everyone. The longer we take, the more difficult it’s going to be to get the Oath out of this sinking ground.”
As he started down a path leading into the swamp, Bril whistled sharply. A few moments later, the high-pitched noise was answered by the piercing cry of a bird that swooped down from his ship’s exit ramp before immediately beating its dark, pearlescent wings to ascend higher and higher above them.
“Let’s see what we can find, Kesh,” he said aloud while walking. After that, anyone near him would notice that his eyes turned from a crystal blue to solid black, even his sclerae.
<@267489687902486530> <@397252802524610580> <@244244163002892288>
Stepping off the ship and feeling that familiar soup they called air in these world types. Dolot couldn’t help but wish for a different time and planet. Although when he was ON the ice world he had wished for anywhere else.
Glancing around, he took it all in. Finally settling on Bril.
“I would like to make 3 circles around the camp each further then the last. Should give me an idea of comms interference. I will scan the area while I’m at it.”
<@1056685516441006091>
A few minutes before as per Bril’s update on when the ship would land, Gand double and tripple checked all his equipment. He made sure to check the tightness of the connections of all the tubes connecting his respirator and his ammonia tanks. He added another tank to his backpack, in the off chance the group were out longer than expected. Gand at least attempts to have learned from his previous mistake, to be prepared for the unexpected.
He picks up his pack and slings it over his shoulder as he exits out the ship. Spying the ship, and out of the corner of his eye he watched Bril call a bird. Gand stepped towards the crashed ship.
“Gand would like to look at the ship. Maybe find documents or traces of where they are headed. Surely Rissokt would have made even a slight plan. If can’t find plan, then maybe Gand can find potential items moved, or other information to help.”
He takes a minute assessing the situation, realizing Bril was scouting ahead with Kesh, and overheard Dolot’s request to circle the camp,
His eyes darting to each member in the group,
“Gand goes to ship to look around, Bril scouts with bird, Dolot walk your first circle, and Rue does what Rue does. Gand requests not to go farther than first circle.”
He gives a slight nod to check with everyone, if they are okay with proceeding like this.
<@397252802524610580> <@244244163002892288>
“Sir Just Gand,” Rue began, having stopped to watch Bril’s bird fly off with a curious look, but now staring at the Gand. He fidgeted with his braid. “If it is not too great an imposition, this one– I would go with you. There are rules, you see, to be safe. My litluns use them in school. It is the ‘buddy system.’ It is dangerous if one goes alone. Allow me to accompany you, as Sir Dolot will have protection with Sir Starosta Bril here and vice versa.”
Having confirmed with Bril, Dolot began walking a circle with the wreck as a center.
The first ring is always the most tense. No scans to rely on, no familiarity with the environment to speak of, and comms often failed leaving a team separated.
Thankfully, however, walking the first ring revealed much of what he needed. The scanner plotted terrain, made not of meteorological changes, and cataloged life forms along with a half dozen other things that he knew would be crucial for the assignment ahead. At the same time he scanned frequently for communication issues that might arise.
Terrain was manageable. Weather was stable for the moment, save for the humidity being unusually high. There was a slight drop in comms stability to the west. He would need to keep an eye on that.
Satisfied, he moved on to the second ring. Having the scans from the initial ring, this proceeded much smoother. The scans becoming clearer, his understanding of the terrain and area deepening.
“Hmm, the comms drop off to the west again… Getting worse.” He spoke to himself. A habit his master Esen had always been quick to point out but he hadn’t been able to shake. “If that pattern continues Bril will need to know.
Once again satisfied, he continues towards the third ring. Starting in the west this time, his suspicion was confirmed. Comms continued to deteriorate. Finishing the ring quickly he returned to base to relay his findings to Bril and take a break. <@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
Kesh soared high above their heads, alternating between flapping his wings and stretching them outward to ride the currents of air with ease. Back home, tanarook were renowned for their flying skills, often used by Iridonian hunters to aid them in locating prey. Kesh’s eyes became Bril’s eyes, providing a completely different view of the world that most near-humans like himself would never have access to. Everything was brighter and rich with colors he’d never seen before – some flowers far below even emitted a faint glow as they fluoresced in the ultraviolet end of the light spectrum.
His loyal companion swept the area repeatedly, focusing his sharp vision on a different section of the swamp each time in the hopes of spotting their target hidden amongst the thick vegetation and murky water, but Bril knew they wouldn’t get that lucky. Help from the inside aside, Rissokt was skilled and cunning enough to have survived this long within the seat of the Brotherhood’s power. That he hadn’t already been captured and killed was a testament to the fact that he wasn’t someone to be underestimated. No flukes, only their wits, teamwork, and grit would ensure their victory today.
With their shared sight, Bril and Kesh spotted something fluorescing brightly against a collection of dark green vines. “Got you,” Bril said aloud suddenly as his eyes returned to their original color. Once his vision came fully into focus again, he looked to Dolot, who happened to be walking back up to him. “I found something. Where are the others?”
He looked around and spotted Gand and Rue further away, headed toward Rissokt’s ship. Perhaps they were looking for clues? It was a good idea; after all, the more they learned about Rissokt, the easier it’d be to f—
The zabrak’s internal monologue came to an abrupt halt when when a spike of unease crept into his mind, followed immediately by a haunting feminine voice that was urgent, yet barely registered above a whisper in his mind.
Flee
Realization set, and he instinctively reached his hand forward to pull Rue and Gand back with the Force. “Wait!”
But it was a futile effort. A chilling silence filled the space just before a piercing noise pealed from within the sinking shuttle. Then, it exploded, knocking everything within twenty feet of it backward with a concussion wave that propagated outward from the epicenter. Even worse, was the initial fireball that exploded outward alongside it, incinerating everything within its immediate vicinity and scorching what lie beyond that. Heaps of debris were catapulted in every direction, lodging themselves into nearby trees and soaring high into the sky or deep into the surrounding marshlands.
<@267489687902486530> <@244244163002892288> <@397252802524610580>
“…oes that also mean that Gand is tall for its species?”
“This unworthy Gand is overly disruptive in its height for one such as itself, correct.”
“Fascinating. This one has yet to interact with a post-adolescent Gand until now. The Masters that created it also experimented with various species that could breathe different gases besides oxygen, in the aspiration that future vessels would be able to respire on multiple planetary environments as well as in vacuum, but the litluns of Gand physiology never survived past fetal hatching stages–”
“Wait!”
Bril yelled from a short ways across the marsh, the sound as clear to the hybrid’s Kessurian senses as if he had spoken directly into his ear. Rue’s step faltered where the two were walking towards their query’s ship, just a pace or two ahead of Gand, intent on keeping his initial promise to walk into traps before the others did. He turned to look back–
Something iced and twisted in his stomach, a painful chill down his spine, burrowing into marrow with wrongness, worry. Saffron eyes widened, and he knew pain would come–
The Masters were–
No!
Gand’s respirator.
The thin hybrid threw himself at Gand, half as much a century of caring instinct as anything else, trying in vain to shield a body smaller than his own from the hurt that came for them always, always. He wrapped himself as tightly around the other male as possible, hunching close, one thin arm locking about tanks and trying to reach shoulders, the other half limb cradling a bulbous, ridged head, his long Ryn tail winding around both their lithe forms twice like a rope.
And that was all there was as pain came, fire and force.
Inertia, then impact. The pair hit the ground once, twice, skidding through the bracken water like skipping stones spun from a child’s hand. On the third impact they tore apart with a muted, fleshen crackle, Rue tossed one way and Gand rolling to a slower stop with his greater weight and heavier equipment. The world spun and flickered and blackened, dazzled too bright by the flashburn of explosive heat, ash raining down along with debris. Smoke rose from trees that now burned. The sudden booming noise was followed by silence, even the insects quieted in shock before the quagmire jungle started up again in cacophony and disarray.
Several meters away from Gand, Rue lay at odd angles in the mud. Shrapnel pitted and lined his back, shards sticking out. None, at least, seemed to have pierced either the ammonia tanks Gand wore nor his respirator tubes, but grayish steam wafted from both of them, char visible on clothes where mud didn’t cake.
As Rue and Gand walked, Gand felt a little more at ease, enjoying their light conversation, a similar sense of familiarity. It made Gand feel accepted, and almost… happy? That was until he noticed the shift in Rue’s facial expressions and movements.
Wrong.
Something was wrong. He felt it deep down in his gut,
“No. Not again.” He tried to take a step back, but the hybrid that was Rue was already on him. Gand flailed for a second, panicking, how could he be so foolish to let someone get close, and take him off guard. no, no, no. The hybrids limbs and appendages wrapped around him. Gand took deep intake of breath, holding it, preparing for his end, but.. Rue was not trying to kill or maim him, instead Rue was trying to shelter him.
He released the held breath slightly, a bit too early in confusion, as the explosion detonated, causing his breath to catch, and an unworldly squeak to be released as the two merged bodies went flying.
It took Gand a second to understand and react, slower than his training on his home planet. A mistake, one that he would need to remedy and train in should he survive this mission to see another day.
With Rue’s limbs wrapped firmly around him, he closed his dark, almond eyes, and reached out to the force, meditating. He focused on feeling the pull of the gravity around him, and tried to lower it around him, slowing their knockback from the blast. Unfortunately, Gand had only been practicing this for a short period of time, and he had only been able to do this for his usual body weight, and did not and could not account for Rue’s added, albeit light, mass, as they both skipped on the ground. Finally breaking apart, as Gand and his tanks rolled, lowering the impact thanks to Rue’s quick reflexes.
Gand rolled to his right arm, as he pushed up, clutching his stomach, trying to catch his breath… His breath… His lungs felt as if he were in an inferno, bubbling from the inside out, which he delt with on a daily, but this time- it was worse. It seemed as if acid had been poured into his lungs, and the only time he had felt like that was…. the incident back on his home planet. The incident that caused him to leave.
His eyes went wide, as his heart rate increased, and he quickly rolled over, and propped himself up onto his left side. Reaching for the respirator mask that, thankfully had not been far, of which had been knocked off to the side of his face. He swiftly slid it over, and pressed the release button on the side of the mask with his 3 spindly fingers, starting the release of ammonia once again. He sat up, gripping to the mask, his life line, and ratcheting it once again tightly behind his head with his other arm. All the while gasping, and fighting through the pain. Making a mental note to be seen by a physician to ensure his lungs didn’t take any more damage, should he survive this mission.
Getting a sense of his surroundings and finally clicking into place what had happened, he looked around for Rue.
Rue- the one who had been nothing but kind to him since he was allowed onto this mission.
Rue- the one who sacrificed himself to protect Gand and his respirator. Only moments before, Gand had mistakenly thought was an attack.
Rue- who now lay in the mud awkwardly with shrapnel jetting into his back.
Rue- the one who Gand now owes his life to.
Gand quickly rushed up, causing him to slip and slide around, further covering his clothes, in thick mud. He shuffled and slid his way over to Rue. Using his one arm as an anchor, as he grasped a nearby tree limb, and used the other to lift with all his might to get Rue free.
Once Rue was free, Gand dropped to his knees, “Ambassador! Gand is so sorry. Gand did not see the trap. Gand’s mind was elsewhere. Gand was taught better than this. Gand should have known better than this. Gand messed up, Gand keeps making mistakes. Gand was bad.“
The acidic burning in his lungs dwindled, the fire subsided to a slight dull pain, thanks to the ammonia in his system, as he continued to self deprecate at Rue’s feet,
“Let Gand help with your back, Gand knows medicine. No- Gand is not good for the Ambassador. Gand overlooked an explosive, and Gand set off a trap. Forgive Gand. Though Gand does not deserve forgiveness.”
“S-shh, shh, shh, pe-petal…it is al-right,” Rue wheezed, a wet sucking noise hitching in each of his words, his breaths. The metal trembled as his shoulders rose and fell. He was limp in Gand’s hold. “Shhh. Not yo-ur fault. Shhshh…this is all-right. Will… heal…when…re-moved…” He smiled at Gand, teeth red, gaze concerned, face tight with pain under the mud but little showing. “Gand is. Good. Are …hurt?”
Jogging up to Brill, Dolot was just about to report when…
“Wait!”
Bril’s yell shook him. Not because of the force of it, rather the desperation. A desperate plea Dolot was all too familiar with. Turning to see Rue lunge at Gand…
As his green eyes widened his ears, no, his head filled with a deep ringing. Before his consciousness could reboot, instinct was roaring to life. Searching for enemies, calculating the size of the blast, where his friends stood at the time of the explosion and their odds of…
His feet were already moving when this thought hit him.
Reaching Gand first. “90 percent.” He spoke but he couldn’t seem to hear the words as they left his mouth.
Next he assessed Rue. “42 percent.” He heard these words. They rang in his soul. It had been a while since he had a patient with that low chance of survival. “Certainly not the lowest.” This statement seemingly made to reassure himself.
Pulling the medical kit from his bag he flung it open. “Gand!” As Gand flinch he suddenly realized he was yelling he readjusted his tone. He didn’t know how Gand would handle this situation and he couldn’t have him panic.
“Gand. Do a self diagnosis. Are you hit? Can you move? Can you breathe?” Not even waiting for an answer he turned to Bril and asked him to lay out a tarp or even better, a gurney. “We need to move him back to the ship.” <@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
Only now did their surroundings begin to settle again, contracting into a tense silence that made him uneasy. A Force-assisted jaunt made quick work of the paltry distance between Bril and his teammate, placing him directly in front of Rue as Dolot covered him from the other side, and knee deep in water steeped in scarlet – Rue’s blood. One glance confirmed that the hybrid was in rough shape. Fortunately, though, he’d shown himself to be far more resilient than he looked, and Bril knew from his dossier that his Force healing was nigh-unmatched.
“Remove the shrapnel. Quickly.” The curtness of his command was not merely because he didn’t want Rue to bleed out, but also because he knew that they weren’t safe, yet. The haunting sensation of impending danger scratched at the back of his mind, reminding him to remain vigilant. Thank the Force that the explosion hadn’t done more damage than what it had. He should’ve known better than to let them approach that frakking ship without checking it himself, first. What a stupid mistake.
Removing the metaphorical veil that kept his potent Sense in check, Bril opened himself up to the Living Force. Countless living creatures danced to its rhythmic, eternal drumbeat. For his fellow Force-sensitives, their dances were complex and layered, while the most simplistic lifeforms among them that slithered and scurried through the surrounding muck were far simpler. It didn’t take long for him to get a bead on a presence that stood out amongst the rest; its dance was spasmodic and laced with malice. A mind set to murder was hard to miss. And he was close.
Rustling sounds preceded the glint of something metal in a distant treeline, causing Bril’s muscles to tense as they primed themselves to defend his preoccupied team. “Heads low!”
Three daggers appeared from the trees, and cut through the air apace, each spaced apart enough to make blocking them all difficult. But Bril was ready this time, snapping his right arm upward, then down to deflect two daggers with his beskar kom'rk (vambrace), only to pivot his torso just enough to send the final one sailing harmlessly past his shoulder and into the collapsed husk of a dead tree a few feet behind them.
Ping. Ping. Thunk.
The zabrak didn’t hesitate to retaliate, sloshing brackish water about as he trudged forward while unclipping his lightsaber, Vigil, from his belt. The amber blade crackled to life in the midst of his spin, extending down to briefly vaporize any stray splashes of water that came near it before rising up when Bril hoisted it above his waist and hurled it directly at the tree from whence the three projectiles came. The saber warbled as it flew through the air on a curved trajectory that culminated in it splitting the top of the tree in two, causing the surrounding ecosystem to once again erupt into a clamor as gravity pulled the severed half down into the murky waters below.
Bril extended a hand to catch Vigil by its hilt when it returned, never taking his eyes off the spot where the tree had fallen. But much to his displeasure, Rissokt was nowhere to be found amongst the debris.
“He’s here somewhere, but I can’t pinpoint his location,” he said to the others, “It must be this place. This planet is steeped in the Dark Side of the Force, and it’s clouding my senses. So, stay on guard.”
“Will…heal,” Rue gagged out, looking to Dolot as Bril sloshed off, out of his sightlines, before his worried gaze returned to Gand. “Like Sir says– ple'ase. Pull…out…” Another ragged, choked exhale. “Just need. Out. And…set my…t-tail.”
The long limb was crooked at an angle that was unnaturally bent, a sharp degree turn instead of sinuous movement– one or multiple of the vertebrae must have snapped when he was trying to hold himself and Gand together and they were tossed apart. It was likely only Gand’s lightening himself had aided them as long as it had.
With the sudden attack and counter attack, Dolot knew he didn’t have the luxury of a sterile environment. He would have to trust Brill to protect them. As soon as Gand set his tail Rue moved. That was unfortunate.
Dolot began drawing the force close. He felt the dark lean in the force on this planet was going to make this easier. Directing his mind in to Rue’s, taking hold. With the added boost of the dark side he was pretty sure he could hold Rue still. It will depend on him.
Reaching deep in to his mind and calling a memory to the front. Flourishing his hand, he spoke to Rue, “You are Happy. You see what makes you happy.” Dark flashes, lightening to reveal a few children…
A sudden sucking sound! A wet sound that was felt more than heard as the shrapnel was pulled from his back. Dolot flung the metal aside and began to gather the prepared gauze and tape when he noticed that Rue was already healing. Astonished he furrowed his brows… “84 percent!” He whispered to himself.
No matter, he knew what he needed to do, now directing his Healing to Rue. If he had this he would just do what he could to help him.
<@244244163002892288> <@1056685516441006091> <@267489687902486530>
“Gand’s systems are operational.” His dark almond eyes peeled off of Rue for only just a moment, to answer a response to Dolot, grateful of his and Bril’s quick presence. That feeling was short lived as they started to get knives thrown at them, though thanks to Bril’s quick reflexes and combat readiness they were given a heads up.
Not entirely sure what direction to go, does he fight with Bril? Or does he help Dolot with Rue?
Just need. Out. And…set my…t-tail. rang through his head like an echo, his attention shifted to Rue once again. Shifting off his emotions, like a light switch being turned off.
“Gand stay with Ambassador. Gand help.” He knelt down, picking up Rue’s dislocated tail as gently as he could, assessing it, seeing how it should align like a puzzle that needed to solved.
“Gand set tail. Gand is sorry for pain.” Without waiting another moment, Gand sets the tail back in line, with a series of cracks and pops.
“Gand is satisfied with that, though Gand suggests Ambassador should get checked by medic at the Ambassador’s earliest convenience.”
Noticing Dolot start to pick away at the glass in Rue’s back, Gand stayed knelt, bowed his head and closed his eyes. Focusing. Reaching for the force inside him now, much stronger than before with the gravitation. This time, he required much more focus, but this time he was able to actually help.
After a few seconds of clearing his mind and reaching, grasping, a near invisible wall appeared starting from Gand, and then spread outwards to the others. His breathing increased, as maintaining this wall was slightly exerting him, but he looked around to Dolot, to Rue, and then to Bril, weighing, if this was the right decision to do. His gaze landing back on Dolot, just there if he needed Gand further.
Blood and ash swirled in the water. The black surface undulated with metallic crimson and the chromatic slick of coolant and fuel, clouded by mud churned with each movement made. The swamp had been disturbed.
And the interlopers were not the only ones present.
“We need to move…” Bril called over his shoulder, warning again. His senses were as much a quagmire as that they stood in; this place steeped and strange in the Dark Side, the overly humid air heavy with the promise of violence, with scintillating sparks of so much emotion: betrayal, panic, worry, hope, focus, even happiness, pain, malice.
Hunger. Rage.
What…?
The Zabrak couldn’t afford to take a hand from Vigil’s hilt, hefty as it was, in order to provide any telekinetic assistance or counter. He could either guard against more projectiles, or throw the blade again.
“Ninety percent!” called back Dolot, a perhaps confusing status report to most, though Bril’s older brother often used numerical reporting himself, and so the Zabrak could interpret, at least, that that was positive and likely speaking to either Rue’s condition or time until they could move. “Astonishing…”
The Sith bent low over their patient to minimize his profile, being the broadest of the lot of them if not the tallest. Rue was kneeling out of the water now, panting shallowly, and his breathing sounds – at least, to the naked ear – had improved. The only evidence of his impalement were the tears and stains in his layered clothing.
“Can you stand?” Dolot offered, feeling his own wave of tiredness from assisting Rue’s healing, though much less than he would have attempting to seal wounds of this degree on his own instead of with the three of them. It was incredible, how quickly and completely Rue had healed.
“This one– thinks so–”
- Gand offered one three-fingered, spindly hand to the fantastical hybrid, which Rue took to leverage himself upright. He stumbled as he stood, seemingly unable to straighten entirely, at a bit of a lean.
Through grit teeth, Rue offered, “This one is alright. Gand did a very good job setting its tail,” he assured, even though Gand was more soldier than medic, and had never had to set a tail before, being Gand. “Speed is more necessary than accuracy. This one had to fuse three of its caudal vertebrae. It will have to re-break them later to reset them. This is fine. It occurred near daily due to this one’s healing factor when the Masters broke the phalanges or other similarly small bones. All will be well. Please– go. This one will be slow. It can hide.”
“Gand will not leave Rue,” it was almost a snap, at least coming from Gand, with the tone of an officer issuing an order. He immediately softened his voice again when Rue flinched. “Gand is sorry. Gand misspoke. But also Gand owes Rue its worthless life. It will not leave Rue.”
“Very much not,” Dolot agreed, quickly assessing as the water churned further away. “I’ll carry you. Come.”
The Human moved to stand in front of Rue, quickly slinging his pack of supplies back on and strapping it the other way around on his front, freeing his back. He offered it, and Rue stared in comprehending a moment.
“Everyone… something is coming!” Bril called.
“Get on!”
“Move–”
“Sir Starosta–!”
The swamp erupted.
Not with blasterfire or another explosion, but movement. From the shallow depths ripped free a sinuous body, massive, glimmering green with crystal imbeded in its scales. A rusted, algae-coated metal collar sat around its upper body, the symbol of the Shadow Academy barely legible any longer. It was easily larger than Rissokt’s ship had been. Larger than Bril’s.
- The dragonsnake opened a maw full of serrated teeth and hissed angrily right before it lunged.
“Gah!”
Jaws smacked into Gand’s barrier, which spiderwebbed with shining cracks all over. The animal pushed forward, slithering, tendons extending wide and upper and lower jaws nearly vertical as it moved to swallow the protected Zabrak whole like a large egg.
Bril quickly leapt backwards with a Force-enhanced jaunt, rejoining his teammates, causing the dragonsnake’s maw to snap closed on empty air.
“Osik'la!” he exclaimed in a Mando'a curse picked up from his family. “They aren’t supposed to get that big!”
But it was radiating that hunger and anger he had senses earlier. Not the murder that was solely their target, but anger nonetheless for being disturbed so.
“It must have eaten very many vegetables,” Rue commented perfectly seriously from his place now on Dolot’s back.
Across the bog, more of the same species, though a little smaller and collarless, emerged from the waters. Based on their trajectory, it seemed they were chasing other prey, likely Risskot.
“Go,” Bril said, saber raised before him in a guard. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“If Gand runs,” Gand began, “it cannot focus on shielding you, Sir.”
“I won’t need it,” Bril said with confidence, though it was threaded in uncertainty. He closed blue eyes, focusing on the creature before them and reaching out in the Force to connect to it. “On my mark, go! If you have anything for cover, use it now so we can retreat. We go west as Dolot suggested and regroup.”
He pressed against the dragonsnake’s mind, its will. Echoes of experiments and hatred, years past, bubbled at the surface. Escape, hunting and being hunted, and brooding its own nest. Rage. Pain. Hunger.
-
Bril was not strong enough to force such a creature as this to do anything, but he focused on the last of those most basic emotions, shoving it away. Perhaps if he could just convince the beast they weren’t that appetizing, it would join the hunt for the Trandoshan and leave them alone.
For a moment, the dragonsnake seemed to hesitate. It drew back its massive head, scenting the air.
That was all the opportunity they were going to get.
“Run!” Bril yelled.
Gand and Dolot took off, splashing heavily towards the denser trees, both weighted with equipment and their fellow healer. The barriers around them all dropped. Bril spun on his heel and sped after them.
Senses screamed again. A shot flew through the air, and he was too slow to properly turn to parry. Instead the plasma splashed into his saber hilt, burning his fingers and shorting the blade. At least the phrik alloy deflected most of it, even as the Zabrak hissed in pain.
But Rissokt’s shot cost him, too. The alpha dragonsnake swerved with incredible swiftness and dove back into the water, emerging a moment after near where the bolt had come from. It roared, and more shooting followed.
The group hit the trees, and darkness fell. Pure blackness. For a moment, the team was lost. Then came Gand’s voice, their way finder:
“Gand will cover us. Follow Gand. This way.”
Dolot reached blindly to grip Gand’s shoulder while Bril did the same thing, coming back with a fistful of Rue’s clothes and matted hair. He apologized softly, and received a soft word in reply, as well as a cool, soothing sensation over his burnt hand.
- “Save your energy, Rue. It’s not worth it.”
“It is to me,” whispered Rue back, and added, “this one can replenish itself from the Goddess’ light. It only needs time.”
“Sir Dolot, may Gand see your scanner’s coordinates?”
“Not you too,” the Sith said more to himself at the honorific than anyone else. Still, in the magical darkness, he passed the device up. “Will this be awhile?”
“No, we will exit Gand’s darkness in several meters.”
“Then let’s move,” Bril issued. “We’re not done yet.”
“Envoy Erinos. I was about to let you know Comms drop to the west. I wasn’t sure why then but seeing that storm I am now 65 percent sure that is the cause.” Turning his Datapad to reveal the earlier scans. “I suggest we head slightly south to this high spot. if flooding occurs, this should give us the advantage of movement. If Sir Gand can set traps we can catch the target off guard and rush him.”
Dolot pauses for a little too long as he considers his plan. “Considering He has been here longer, he may already be aware of the Terrain so i can’t guarantee success. The advantage we gain, however, out way the risk in my opinion. I also see that while the rest of the team are quite skill in combat. I will be better suited as support. My battle meditation has been a point of focus in my training. <@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
“Gand is just Gand. Gand deserves no title. Gand has not earned that yet.” He nods reassuringly, his almond eyes closing, as if he were smiling under his respirator. A little quirk he picked up in his short period of time being off his home planet.
“Gand understands. Gand has many explosives. Gand suggests to use C-10 Stun grenade or flash grenades, to ensure that we can bring the target back alive. However, Gand also has concussion grenades that might damage, but wouldn’t damage as much as regular grenades.” He takes a deep breath, calming his excitement before continuing.
“However, these explosives don’t have a way to detonate remotely, which brings Gand to his favorite newest edition,” He drops his bag down to the ground unzipping, and pulls out a hand-sized dark sphere.
“This is a Denton Charge. Gand only has one of these. Denton Charges can be detonated with a remote detonator or set up on a timer. However, when activated it will glow bright red, so might need to cover with mud. On top of concealing it, this is a very powerful explosive, that could damage the target if detonation is not timed… ah-, correctly.”
He unzips his backpack, holding it open for the others to see, revealing an entire bag filled with nothing but explosives,
“Gand has one C-10 stun grenade, two flash grenades, and two concussion grenades.” He rambles on muttering slightly under his breath, “-and an anti-vehicular mine, but Gand does not think we need that at the moment.” his eyes circling, looking over his shoulder slightly, before landing on the muddy ground.
He snaps back, realizing he was rambling, “So-,” he nods to Dolot. “We travel further to the South, Gand will plant this Denton Charge, we wait for Rissokt, detonate, and then capture.” He pauses,
“For back up plan, everyone gets their choice of other explosives Gand has, all Gand asks is to not explode him, or flash bang him, Gand already has a difficult enough time seeing.” His free hand gestures to his dark, right eye, of which has a silver outline spiderwebbing inwards like infected veins. Surely his attempt at a joke.
<@244244163002892288> <@1056685516441006091>
“We would not hurt Sir Gand,” Rue said with sudden seriousness from his position piggybacked on Dot. His iridescent brows formed a deep furrow. “This one…does not entirely understand what is going on, with the setting of trappings. It has never held an– ‘explosive’ nor ‘bang.’ It also does not wish to harm, even lesser harm. It will not take a grenade.”
“Traps are an ambush tactic. It means… an enemy has set up devices in an area meant to hurt or hamper others. Usually using tripwires, explosives, or things like that,” Bril offered to Rue quickly.
Gand added, practically buzzing and clacking with knowledge, “A flash bang involves ignition of metal compounds that cause an exothermic reaction and also produce great intensity of light, possibly also sound, in order to baffle a subject. These reactions can reach temperatures that also may burn a subject in close vicinity and can permanently burn eyes from the flash itself, such as Gand’s.”
He cut himself off there, but could clearly have said more on the subject. Rue’s frown deepened.
“If truly necessary to protect…this one is capable of creating such blinding flashes with your Force. It does not need the grenades. It suspects it would in fact misuse them and that we do not have time for operations lessons. The storm is indeed coming.”
The temperature, so humid and hot as Dolot had lamented, had already shifted dramatically. The air held a charge, such that it seemed to spark around the trees…
Lightning crACKed nearby. A thunderous boom followed, and the roiling boil of sinister, black clouds overhead swirled with a malice almost palpable. The sensation was a prickle along skin, a glare like some god’s great eyes.
-
The light spread under his lavender skin, not unlike the black veins that Bril would see rising and ripping when his own Master truly tapped into the Dark Side. But these were quicksilver and warm and alien all at once, disconcerting as the faint glow ghosted from Rue’s mouth as well, a vaporous emanation to every exhale. He was whispering to himself, a song or some prayer.
Above them, the storm churned. Clouds reshaped and shifted at uncanny and otherworld speeds, forcibly, swirling and heaving into a spiral, into a hurricane. Rain and wind whipped into a holy fervor, pummeling the swampy ground, seizing trees and ripping free boughs and branches, raising what was a mire into a tide.
But over them, around them, it was quiet. The eye of the storm.
“Ninety three percent,” Dot breathed, eyes wide.
Having made his high assessment, Dolot carried Rue through the corridor. Ahead of them, a few pops sounded just over the rain.
They passed the traps that had clearly been set up in preparation for our arrival.
Finding their place on high ground, right where the earlier scans had revealed. He set Rue down to do his work. Dolot was amazed to himself that in a place so full of darkness, this Kessurian hybrid could call forth such light and beauty.
After shaking his head and confirming that Gand had set his traps and a quick nod from Bril. Dolot stood between Rue, and the corridor he was creating.
“Envy Erinos, Sir… Mr Gand, please stay forward of me.”
Kneeling on the ground. A strange hum could be heard. A lost song, just far enough away to make one think they were imagining it. Yet, somehow right up close as if whispered in their ear.
Dolots eyes were now focused sharply, on not only his comrades. Rather the battlefield as a whole.
“This is your fight now. I will be your humble foundation.”
<@244244163002892288> <@267489687902486530> <@1056685516441006091>
Fluttering wings and an upset screech heralded his avian friend’s return. The creature flapped as it landed on his arm, which he barely raised in time, having to remove one hand from his claymore saber’s hilt. The Zabrak shushed soothingly at his disturbed companion.
“It’s okay, Kesh. We’re safe here. Keep your eyes open for us, okay? Let me know when you see Rissokt. Watch over us.”
Bril lifted his arm and the bird lifted off, circling around and around their epicenter before he flew down the trapped corridor of swampland, scouting.
The tense seconds ticked by into minutes as their heartbeats and mines synchronized, shared breaths baited. The water rose below them, higher and higher up the slope of the land.
“Steady.”
Pale blue eyes met Gand’s mismatched, spider webbing pair, receiving a confirming nod back. The detonator for the grenade was ready in hand, as was another explosive. Those Bril had taken weighed on his belt. The water rose.
They waited, and waited, ready at any moment as the water rose—
“No,” Rue whispered suddenly, the light flickering in his eyes and mouth. “Oh, no, no no no no, no, I didn’t mean– no, Goddess, please—”
“Rue?” barked Bril, hyper alert and gripping his weapon tighter. “What’s wrong?”
“The animals,” the hybrid gasped, golden, shining tears spilling down his cheeks. “T-the a-animals, the plants, they're— I’m hurting them. They’re drowning. Blown away. Scared. I-I-I feel— them. No! No we have to stop!”
Before them, lightning struck.
ccCraaBOOOOMckckcssss…
Brightness whited out everything. Heat washed over their skin, and the stink of burning and superheated ozone suffused their pocket of calm as that bastion wobbled. It was a visible waver, as their vision cleared, the uncanny barrier of where the torrential, driving rain simply stopped. The storm rattled closer, spraying them in water, wind whipping through their clearing. The dark clouds caved in, leaning close, hungry.
- “Eighty-six percent… forty-three percent…Sir Bril?” Dot was muttering vaguely to himself, gaze unfocused ahead, as if through a dream, but a grimace had come to his features.
“Osik,” Bril cursed, turning to Gand but briefly, trying to remain vigilant of their surroundings. “We have to calm him down. Any suggestions?”
Gand’s long, dark fingers clacked together in thought. He bowed as he approached the distraught man where Dot had deposited him.
“Sir Rue…this unworthy Gand will assist you in tending to the animals after this is over? Gand’s tanks have a limited number of hours that it can exert itself, but Gand will spend them all in assistance,” Gand offered brilliantly.
It was an inspired attempt, but Rue was inconsolable, and justly so. With Dolot linking all their minds, Bril could feel the pain, not just Rue’s grief, but the very same things the hybrid was sensing: death, panic, fear. Wild and primal and animal. Destruction. The beasts like the aquatic dragonsnakes that had attacked them were likely to survive, but surely their environment was being upheaved, and all the other, smaller fauna…
Death on death on death and ruin.
- The Zabrak grit his teeth against the sheer depth of that pain, the grief. It was hollowing his chest out. It felt like both his hearts were breaking. His stomach cramped. He was caving in from the inside and no no no.
But they had to. If Rue wavered now, in the eye of the hurricane they’d created, not only would they lose their target, they would all likely drown.
“Rue,” Bril snapped, putting all the authority he could into his words, hating what he was about to do. Was this what Jax, Foxen, and Minnie had all warned him of? The burden of leadership? Of making the best of only terrible choices? Of taking what he knew of his team and applying it, no matter how manipulative? “Rue, keep the storm going. That’s an order!”
-# “…b-but…”
The man’s voice was so small.
He hated himself for this.
“YOUR MASTER COMMANDS YOU, DO AS I SAY!”
Rue flinched so hard it might as well have been a lightning strike all its own. But the effect was immediate: he went ramrod straight, trembling in place, silent, head bowed in supplication. Their calm heart snapped back into perfect place around them, and outside it, the wind howled and writhed.
Death and ruin. But they’d survive. They’d get back to their loved ones.
I’m so sorry, the Zabrak thought to himself, his double heartbeat drumming with regret. But it wasn’t the time for it. He would have to try to repair this later.
- A shriek across the rising waters heralded the buzz of warning that skittered across his consciousness. Bril’s head snapped around just in time to see the flash not of the storm’s light but of metal reflecting it. The thrown knife sliced across his neck and the fabric there, stinging fiercely but fortunately not severing anything vital. The Arconan lunged sideways and spun his saber about, vaporizing the two knives that followed before they could reach Gand.
From through the storm’s wall came their target, finally in the flesh. He was completely soaked, his scales and skin visibly stripped by the gale force winds where battered armor didn’t cover, bleeding head to toe, rivulets of diluted red running down his lacerated form. His chest heaved, nostrils flared in a murderous rage, serrated teeth bared. A long, wicked blade dripped in his hand, small knives in the other.
Malice oozed from Rissokt’s mind like deadly magma, threatening to consume everything it touched with its torrid embrace. Normally, Bril would have had no problem buttressing his mind against the intense emotion and killing intent – he was no stranger to such emotions, after all – but much to his frustration, he found that Rue’s total dejection over his return to being merely a thing meant only to obey, and his own guilt over dehumanizing him were far too potent a distraction for him to properly defend against their adversary’s oppressive psychic presence. Frustration grew and ignited into a proper flame, causing the zabrak to grit his teeth as the pull of the Dark Side crept its way into his mind once again.
This old friend, back to offer its hand again.
It called not just to Bril, though, for the psionic link established between the four of them by Dolot’s use of Battle Meditation provided a bridge for the honeyed invitation to spread to the minds of his teammates, as well. Who among them would give in to the temptation? Imagine what they could do here, together, if they just let. it. in.
The rebuke echoed across their shared mental space like a thunderclap, momentarily interrupting Dolot’s concentration long enough for Bril to sever himself from their link.
A wet, hacking chortle brought the group’s attention backed to Rissokt, who was clutching his blood and muck stained torso while he laughed. “This one has a few screws lose. The rest of you lot are better off helping me put him out of his misery before he kills you first.”
Rue was silent, shaking like an akro reed in the harsh winds of Iridonia while he maintained the bubble of calm amidst the storm that raged all around them. Bril doubted he’d even heard what Rissokt said.
Dolot ignored it, gritting his teeth with a determined look on his face to maintain his concentration. He attempted to reach out to Bril’s mind again, to connect him, but the team’s leader had blocked him out. After what he’d just felt, maybe it was better that way.
Gand lowered his hand to the lightsaber clipped to his belt and kept it there. His other hand wasn’t far from the concussion grenade on the other side. “This Gand, as wretched and undeserving of Starosta’s camaraderie as he is, will not betray him.”
Rissokt scoffed and spat a mix of blood and spittle to the side. “Suit yourself, you’ll die right along w–”
The rest of Rissokt’s words faded when Bril slipped his cortosis helmet onto his head; the images of his allies and their enemy, the sensation of the murky waters he was standing in, even the smell of ozone and the clamor of the storm that raged just beyond the borders of Rue’s influence … everything became like sand washed away in a powerful wave, leaving only the Force.
Bril’s saber sliced upward with frightening speed – a blur of amber to the others but to him, naught more than a resonation in the Force, singing a tune set by the kyber crystal embedded in its hilt. Rissokt managed to bring his weapon, which resembled a large cleaver with a crimson electro-plasma filament running along the length of its edge, up in time to parry the surprise attack aside; however, before he could retaliate with an attack of his own, Bril advanced with a downward cut followed by a thrust toward Rissokt’s gut. Each movement was fluid, yet precise, truly representative of a master of lightsaber combat.
Rissokt held his own, though not without great effort due to his own wounds. He did just enough each time to avoid having one of his limbs severed by the aggressing Arconan, though he made no attempt to retaliate, instead continuing to move backward while defending. And just as it seemed like he would walk directly into the detonation zone of the concealed denton charge, he pivoted away to avoid another sweeping attack from Bril’s oversized saber.
Was Bril intentionally straying from their plan? Or was something else happening?
Gand stood in the back, slowly waiting for Rissokt to step back within detonation range, but just enough room between him and Bril so Bril wouldn’t be affected. Gands breaths went shallower and shallower as he watched with anticipation, his spindly thumb hovering just over the button.
As Rissokt pivoted away, Gand’s breath caught, as he noticed and felt Bril struggling to keep speed and progress with Rissokt. Perhaps it was his wounds.
Gand scrunched his non-existent eyebrows and gently laid the detonator on Dolot’s thigh. “Dolot, when Rissokt crosses past those trees, Gand needs you to press this button. Gand will go help Sir Bril.” He closes his dark,almond shaped eyes in an endearing manner, giving potential reassurance to Dolot, before turning and grabbing the hilt of his lightsaber that were holstered at his waist. As Gand turned Rissokt had just pulled a quick maneuver leaving Bril to use all his remaining strength into pushing away from himself, as Rissokt pushed in towards Bril. Thanks to the poison that Bril suffered, his strength was slowly depleting and Rissokt’s blade pushed closer and closer. Something needed to happen. Gand squinted his eyes, peaking just out from over his respirator, as many plans ran through his mind. Gand could throw an ichor potion on the ground at Bril’s feet so he could absorb the healing, strength and endurance boost. Another plan would be to high tail it over there and hopefully Bril can out last Rissokt. Seconds all Gand had were seconds to decide, just like before during the incident. The same incident in which he decided wrongly and it left him with permanently damaged lungs and demoted back to the name of Gand, he was no longer Syndrix- Gand squinted his eyes further, as he reached into the pouch at his side, and pulled out a small breakable container. He took a split second to calculate the distance, the storm, and his strength to not hit Bril. He stepped forward, using the momentum from his body, as he threw the Ichor potion as it landed near Bril, splashing up his leg. Content now that the ichor potion was seeping into his skin, boosting his healing and strength, Gand kicked his body into high gear and ran towards Bril, hand on holstered lightsaber. As Gand made his approach he made mental calculations of the distance, his speed, and the knife still bearing down upon Bril. Yes, the ichor was giving a boost, it just needed more time. “Gand wont make it. Gand wont make it.” He started to shake his head and a muffled scream could be heard as the anxiety took over him, still furthering his trek onward towards Bril. As the blade seemed to be nearly upon Bril’s skin, Gand was still too distant, too far. The blade sank closer and closer, but a blurred mass filled the space of Rissokt. -Not a mass, but Kesh! Kesh swooped in, and started attacking Rissokt’s eyes, pecking at his head, clawing at his shoulders, anything to sway this attacker off his master. Leaving Rissokt a bloodied, scratched, up mess. This resulted in Rissokt removing his blade from against Bril’s saber, but alas he used it on the bird. Slicing and stabbing. Caws and pained cries were heard as Kesh fought valiantly, but was no match for the blade. The last vision Gand had before finally making it to Bril’s side, was the blade piercing through Kesh’s lifeless body. Gand unholstered his saber and flicked it on. He stood with one hand on his hip, and held his saber precisely, and elegantly, deflecting Rissokt’s blade. Never making any actual attacks, purely defensive. Slowly, very slowly Gand was pushing forward, making Rissokt take steps back. Gand was moving him to the treeline.
Dolot stood there. “Well this went sideways.” Should he stop meditation? Gand was the only one he was affecting at this point.
Switching gears, as he dropped concentration ha finally noticed the detonator left him by Gand. “OK I’ll make the opportunity if I can’t find one.”
Drawing the darkness in Dolot prepared himself. Unlike Bril, he was quite used to the dark side. How to limit it, and how to use enough light to keep it in balance. And since this place had an abundance, he would partake.
Bursting up from his position in the mud, using the force to lighten himself and propel every movement.
Reaching Rissokt slightly faster than Gand. He realized what Gand was trying to do. Dolot sat slightly behind Gand. Pivoting as needed. If Rissokt started to vear off to his left. Dolot would be there to stop him.
Dancing around Gand. Only igniting his saber when necessary.
Closer, and closer. “GAND PUSH!”
Fainting to the left Gand force pushed Rissokt back as Dolot raised his hand.
BOOM!
Flame and force erupted, a bloom of burning light in the tempest dark.
Crimson flared across the bracken risen waters, there-then-gone like the flashes of lighting and the explosion Rissokt himself had set off in his ship. For as quickly as the Trandoshan was flung one direction by Gand’s telekinetic assault, he was immediately thrown another, the grenade’s detonation sending his body careening across the clearing. He skipped over the water twice like a stone and then slammed into the ground and didn’t rise again.
For a moment, stillness. Silence. Just sanctuary in the storm. Gand and Dolot were deafened save the ringing in their ears as they each hooked an arm under Bril and pulled him back to higher ground, out of the tide. The Zabrak’s muscles spasmed, and as soon as he was released, he collapsed back down. With a quick shared glance, the two medically-trained men set about respective tasks, Dolot moving with his saber still ready to check Rissokt for a pulse and roll him out of the water to ensure he didn’t drown. Gand, meanwhile, carefully removed Bril’s cotorsis helmet, checking his face and eyes for signs of injury and alertness.
When he pulled it free, Bril was crying.
The tears flowed freely down tattooed cheeks. The Arconan’s gaze, while normal in its pupil dilation and response, was fixed back down the corridor they’d made. Back towards where his loyal companion had fallen.
“I felt him die,” the young Aedile rasped, an echo of Rue’s earlier words. Being in the helm, shut off from everything and yet completely immersed in the Force itself– he’d felt Kesh’s life empty.
“Gand is sorry, Sir Starosta. Can Sir follow this unworthy Gand’s finger, please?”
Blue eyes tracked movement even though the Zabrak didn’t want to look away from where the feathered form floated. He shook himself suddenly, lifting a bracered arm to ward Gand’s ministrations away. “I’m– I-I’m fine. My body just stopped– responding right. But something you did, it’s getting better.”
“Sir should consume this additional potion, to be certain.”
Dot drifted silently up next to them through the bog.
“Rissokt is secure. And alive.” He nodded over at the limp Trandoshan, who was propped upright and bound with the group’s stun cuffs. Dot held Rissokt’s weapons. “Fifty-six percent, I would estimate. He will require medical treatment if interrogation is still our intent.”
“Yes.” Bril grit his teeth visibly, rising as he finished the potion Gand offered him and wiping at his face. “When this hurricane ends, we’ll head out.”
And speaking of…
The Zabrak forced himself to turn to the last member of their team. Rue was still on the ground, crusted in mud and blood, having assumed a bowed position that prostrated him with forehead to dirt. The faintest light that rose from his pores and the bubble of calm around them were the only indicators he was even breathing, so still was he, tail crooked at an angle.
“Rue…Rue, I’m sorry. You can let go now. It’s okay. You can stop.”
Silence. But around them, the wailing gales began to slow. The beat of the rain eased. The churn of the clouds cracked open, easing away for a single column of weak sunlight.
“…Rue, hey. Please answer me, you’re worrying me.”
-# “Yes, Master.”
Bile rose in his throat. “I’m not your Master, Rue. I’m sorry, I just needed you to focus. But I’m not. And we’re all okay.”
-# “Not all.”
It was so hard to hear him, but Bril knew he meant the animals. The plants. Kesh.
“I know.”
“Sir Rue.” Gand inched forward, and Bril retreated, flexing his hands into fists and loose again, glaring at Rissokt’s unconscious self. “Gand meant its promise. We can try to help together, if Sir would tolerate this simple one.”
“This would not be efficiently using our time,” Dolot commented, but he didn’t seem to exactly be protesting.
The storm continued to weaken. Their bubble became a blur. A gradient fade into water retreating back to the unnamed seas of Arx. The humid air settled and stilled like a heavy, damp blanket, tepid, sticky and suffocating.
Silence. Stillness.
And sunlight.
Rue rose, each joint creaking, and stumbled forward. Gand caught him, making a fretful clicking.
“Sir Rue should be careful if Sir is still unbalanced due to this one’s inferior bone setting techniques–”
“Help me please,” Rue murmured, and nodded vaguely towards Rissokt. “I need. To touch. And bring Kesh here.”
“What?” Bril snapped back around, brows furrowed. Dolot merely shrugged and turned, gesturing with his hand to summon the small body from its watery grave, dripping as it floated over. Gand didn’t hesitate in the slightest, acting as a brace while the duo hobbled over to their query. “What are you doing?”
“This one has already sinned so greatly today,” the hybrid intoned, face low, gaze flat, as Gand lowered him down. He put his sole hand on Rissokt, and Dolot obligingly lowered Kesh’s body into his lap. “What is one more, then?”
Again, a glow rose from his fingertips, and the trio could hear the whisper in the wind, the susurrus of the rent trees, the hymnal of Light that hummed in the sunlight amidst the Dark-steeped swamp. As they watched, Rue’s eyes whited out again, and Rissokt stiffened as if shocked, the color and life leeching from one of his bound arms, green-orange scales going gray and flaking off. The limb went limp, deadened.
And in a flurry of feathers, Kesh shot into the air, hooting and cawing.
“Kesh!” Bril cried, mouth agape, as his avian friend swooped and nearly crashed into him. He’d have taken out a few gouges had Bril not been wearing bracers. As it was his talons just screeched on the beskar'gam, and he flapped and shook his little birdy head and puffed up in every possible direction, beak clacking. His wings were wild, his squawks indignant. It was…very much like a bird throwing a fit.
“Quite right, you are,” Bril found himself, somehow, laughing, pressing his horned forehead to Kesh’s. He got pecked for his troubles. The Zabrak turned to look at Rue. “That was– how?”
But the hybrid wasn’t watching. He stared at Rissokt, and cupping the Trandoshan’s face, the man’s wounds slowly sealed. Not completely. But some. Rue wobbled and slumped, then rose, shaking, again.
“Sacrifice,” he whispered, and turned away, trying to plod off– to where, who knew. Just away, perhaps.
Gand bowed to Bril, then Dolot, and went with him, staying under his half arm like a doting nurse. Dolot examined Rissokt, then turned to Bril.
“What now?”
The Zabrak swallowed, definitely getting one of Kesh’s downy feathers in his mouth as he did so. He looked after the fractured bits of his team and their captured target, around at the marsh now full of small, innocent corpses, and felt as if he stood torn between each half of the Force itself.
“…we go home,” he answered, half-hollow, half-hallow. “Report back.”
They’d succeeded, after all.
Hadn’t they?
-x-x-x-