DISCLAIMER

I do not own any of the characters in Star Wars or The Hobbit. Nor will I ever have any claim to either of these fine stories. The only character I own is Tracyn Skirata herself.

This story is a reworking of the original 'Gift from the Skies' which I wrote in early 2015. Hopefully, a second try will prove more fruitful

Chapter One: Where it all began

Dammit ... when did things suddenly go so wrong? I had been trained better than this.

long hours and countless raging battles had led me to this very day - and yet things had gone completely to pot! I could hear the alarms blaring. Warning me of the damage to the left wing of the Kom'rk class fighter that I was currently piloting. Somehow, someway the damned pirate in the battered b-wing had gotten a lucky shot at me! They had to be feeling mighty pleased with themselves, it wasn't every day some space jockey got a hit on a Mandalorian pilot! Sparks flared as searing hot laser fire battered my craft and the whole frame seemed to shudder beneath me as it struggled to stay aloft. I had to fight with the controls just to keep the nose of the craft from lurching starboard, the engines sputtering as power fluctuated through the electrical systems. But, as much as I struggled there was no denying the fact that the damage the B-Wing had suffered was too great. I might not be able to physically the gaping holes in the fuselage of the craft, but the control panel to my left was certainly telling me in no uncertain terms that the craft was now unflyable - and the further peppering of hot laser fire from the pirate wasn't helping matters.

I would have to land, and the planet looming on the horizon seemed as good as any - in fact, it was the only option though I wished my options where better

My cat and mouse flight with the pirate had taken us both into unfamiliar and uncharted space. Far from the hyperdrive lanes, and too far to hail for help - It was just the kind of bad luck that seemed to prevail every one of my hunts in the last few months. Determined not to go down without a fight I gave the controls a slight tilt toward the port, and ever so slightly downward - causing the Kom'rk to pitch violently toward my adversary in such a manner that it caught him by surprise. For a moment the blaster fire stooped, and I allowed myself to envision the gormless look of shock on that unknown person's face before I opened fire - peppering the front of his craft with red-hot light.

I didn't stop, not even when the fuel tank of the b-wing caused a brief but bright explosion that was short-lived in the vacuum of space. It might have seemed a bit like overkill, but I wanted to be sure my opponent couldn't follow me down to the planet - and while I knew that the pirate was now dead it felt good to vent my frustrations at the nothingness of space.

Only once the anger had faded did I stop firing, and only then did I allow the craft to turn toward the looming green and blue globe that floated idly below me. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but notice just how tranquil the planet looked, an oasis in the depths of space that would provide me with a quiet place where I could repair my craft. Hopefully, it's atmosphere would be just as pleasant as it looked, but I knew that appearances could be deceptive - it might look nice but the atmosphere might be terribly toxic so I took the precaution of pulling on my helmet.

'Just in Case'

My father's mantra drifted through my thoughts in that soothing baritone voice. He had always known what to do - a font of wisdom and strength that I ever strove for and always fell short of. Details where what kept you alive, and taking precautions was gospel. His advice had kept me alive so far, and I knew that it wouldn't serve me ill now as I focused my sights on the flashing symbols superimposed onto the heads-up display of my helmet. The ground was coming up fast now - an untouched wilderness of trees as far as the eye could see.

It was a pristine landscape that was free from the ravages of human hands, something that was very rare in the galaxy these days given just how determined people were to strip every planet of their precious ores. If the situation had been less dire I might have admired such a landscape, but I was too busy trying to wrestle whatever inkling of control I could out of the yolk. The Kom'rk was no longer responding well to input, and with the ground coming up to meet me the only thing I could do now was brace for impact. Alarms blared from every corner of the craft, A low tone popping in every now and then at certain atmospheric levels - I didn't need the tones to know that impact was imminent.

I pushed the yolk back as far into its housing as I could, and ducked my head so that I could cradle it between my legs and arms in a protective manner. I could only hope that the craft was still strong enough to stand up to a violent landing, but that hope was a slim one - I could feel the rattling of metal panels as the air buffeted against them. The most likely scenario was that my aircraft would fall apart on impact - something I didn't have to contemplate for long as the world suddenly slipped into chaos. My gut came up into my stomach at the sudden sensation of G-force hitting my body as the craft hit the ground for the first time. Part of my brain was aware of the fact that the spaceship was tumbling wildly 'feet over tail' and it was almost enough to cause me to vomit, and I couldn't help but wonder if the last thing I would ever be aware of was the taste of bile on my tongue.

Hardly the most glamorous of ends.

G-forces gripped my body once again as the craft made contact with the surface of the planet, decelerating the craft even more and causing a spray of water against the viewport. I had enough presence of mind to let out a curse before the uncontrollable spinning of the spacecraft caused me to blackout.

Drip ... Drip ... Drip

The sound of water dripping from some far corner of my consciousness was the first sound that I was aware of. It was a little confusing at first, as I could barely remember why water should be dripping inside an aircraft. Then I remembered the crash landing, and I could hear the groan that slipped past my lips as I forced my eyelids open. The dim light that permeated the viewport was enough for me to see that the cockpit was still somewhat intact, though it was far from undamaged. Metal panels stuck at odd angles from the walls, and wires dangled down from the ceiling in such a way that I felt like I was sitting inside the insides of some live beast - it's veins threatening to pull me ever deeper into its flesh. The state of the craft was the least of my concern, such damage was easily fixed. However where I currently was was certainly an issue.

Beyond the viewport, I could see drifting throngs of seaweed and the odd fish staring at me with bug-eyed wonder. Dappled light played over what I now knew to be the seabed, and it took me a few moments of deduction to figure out that while I wasn't that far down - I was down deep enough that any thoughts of recovering the craft were slowly forgotten. The sensation of water swirling against my legs was a harsh reminder that if I didn't move soon, then I too would be forever stuck at the bottom of the ocean. Convincing my aching body to move was just as hard a task as opening my eyes had been, everything felt like it took ten times longer. My teeth pulled at my lower lip as I focused past the pain, pulling myself from my seat and turning in the cramped space to grab my pack.

I shouldn't have taken anything, but I couldn't leave it either. My pack had all the supplies I needed to last in this environment for as long as it took to get help. My fingers entwined around one of the thick straps, pulling the pack free and hefting it into my lap so that I could grab an item stashed beneath it - a small beige pack. It didn't look like much but it was my ticket to the surface above me. Some might call the item an antique - I called it a lifeline that should be in every pilot's emergency kit. With both items in hand, I finally pushed the button that would open the canopy, a sudden wash of water surrounding me and making me thankful for the fact I'd put on my helmet. The atmospheric seal would keep the water out long enough for me to break the surface - long enough for me to get to breathable air.

Once the mass of swirling water had calmed I pushed myself free of my craft and pulled the tag on the smaller parcel. It worked as expected, the sphere expanding as air it's interior - the buoyancy is enough to pull me upward despite my heavy armour and pack. It would take me awhile to swim to shore given the bulk of the pack and the buoyancy aid - the task of holding onto both sapping my energy so quick that by the time I reached the shore all I could do was collapse into the surf.

I was tired, aching and stranded. But at least I was alive, and for now, that's all I could have asked for. At that time I didn't really think about my future, and if I had I certainly would never have guessed it to take the path that I would soon come to tread.