I'd like to thank Jiara and Kyla, for reading and correcting my mistakes and giving me precious suggestions. Without their help and support, I don't think I could've done it. :) Disclaimer: All characters belong to LucasArts and Bioware. Only Artemis' personality is mine.
They had found it, finally. Another Star Map. It seemed almost like a curse how these artefacts tend to be found in remote and dangerous places: the lair of a krayt dragon on Tatooine, the depths of the oversized jungle of Kashyyyk… And somehow, she knew it wouldn't get any better. They hadn't collected all the Star Maps yet…
"Only two left!" said the man jogging next to her between two breaths, somehow thinking along the same lines that she did. She nodded, acknowledging, and was about to reply something witty when she stopped dead in her tracks. Something was wrong. Her companions froze, all senses reaching. Normal senses, that is. She closed her eyes, reaching with her sixth sense, better known as the Force. She felt her presence first, her wounds and exhaustion. Then came the life forces of her two friends, the huge Mandalorian and the soldier. She felt their wounds; the Mandalorian's progressive healing due to his Regen Implant. The soldier was favouring one of his legs and his breath was uneven. Then she felt the ground… and there was the disturbance. Part of it, at least, had taken the form of a hidden trap laid on the ground below the surface leaves and peat, a few feet away from where the soldier had stopped. She stretched her mind further and the presence of other men made itself clear. Where her eyes were failing her, the Force wouldn't.
She opened her eyes slowly, feeling her muscles tensing and adrenaline level rising. She felt her friends tense as well. The soldier, his thoughts once again level with hers, mumbled something about "it" never being an easy ride. She smiled. The invisible enemy chose that moment to reveal themselves and attack the trio. She ducked the vibroblade the man slashed over her head -a man that hadn't been there a split second before- before swinging her elbow in his floating ribs. The impact on the armor made her wince, but she heard the unpleasant crunching noise the fractured bones had made. Her blow had been hard, perhaps a little too much, and her whole arm felt numb. She used her other hand to untie her lightsaber from her belt and delivered blow after blow, dodging and parrying, until the fighter fell. She turned to another enemy, and used this short moment to take her second lightsaber with her formerly-numb hand. She let the rush of battle run through her, acting without thinking, instinctively doing what was right.
She stopped when the last enemy fell. Her battle trance phased out and she blinked back to reality. Unconscious or dead men littered the ground, six or seven of them. They wore Mandalorian armors. Her stare turned to the Mandalorian on her team, who was using his booted foot to turn one of the men over on his back. He made a deprecating sound before kneeling beside the man and scavenging whatever they could still use. She sighed and kneeled before another man, untying his armor, weapons, belts, anything that could be sold or used. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that the other man on her team, the soldier, was approaching her, or rather the corpse next to the one she was scavenging. He kneeled painfully and set to the task. He caught her glance, their eyes locking for a half-second, before returning to their respective cadavers. She pretended to be struggling with an armor strap and closed her eyes, opening her mind to the Force. She reached to him, to his body, his life force. She felt the dislocated kneecap as an element misplaced in the web of the Force. She pulled the strings, relocating the bones and tissues, healing the wound. The same was done for the broken ribs he had inherited from an encounter with katarns. Judging that he should be able to live a few more hours with the few scratches, burns and cuts left, she pulled back and continued her search for reusable equipment.
They had just finished gathering all their loot. The woman stretched out, letting out a groan of pain when a stressed muscle protested. She looked at her companions, who looked back at her. Something suddenly snapped back to her attention.
"What is it?" asked the ever-perceptive soldier.
"I forgot," she replied, "but there's a trap just over there… I think it would be best to avoid it." There was a sarcastic edge in her voice.
"No, really?" answered the soldier, a smile on his lips.
They were interrupted by another voice.
"Ah, I should've known! You kids can't behave when nobody's watching you! Look at this mess…"
"Hey, old man! You missed all the fun…" she teased him, smiling broadly.
The older man smiled back, wrinkles creasing around his eyes. "Now let's get out of this place. My arthritis is killing me…"
"If you say so, but let's get rid of this trap first…"
She kneeled beside the trap and was about to start disarming it when a low growling interrupted her.
'Let me undo this, woman.' The Wookiee from the elevator had stepped in and was currently disarming and removing the trap. The woman backed off, her arms raised in an innocent manner. "Convenient" she muttered to no one in particular, though she heard chuckles. The Wookiee rose, the remnants of an evil-looking trap in his hands, and motioned them toward the elevator. They followed him, eager to leave the place before more trouble showed up.
They dumped their extra equipment on the floor of the primitive elevator. The Mandalorian sat down heavily and his weight rocked the rising nacelle from one side to the other. Their Wookiee guide shot him an angry look that he ignored completely.
"Don't mind me," he said roughly, "I'm gonna sleep these scratches off. And besides, the ride is boring," Without further ado, he settled himself propped on the pile of armors and dozed off.
The old man sat down, complaining about his old this and that. After what seemed like an unending struggle, he finally stopped muttering and said that for once he would follow the example of the not-so-young-anymore, and he slipped into Jedi meditation.
The soldier and the woman exchanged a glance. She shrugged and sat down, followed shortly by him. He grabbed a stray Medpac and opened it.
"Thanks," he said, unwrapping a pack of kolto-saturated compresses.
She stared at him, puzzled.
"The… healing," he explained. "Thanks."
"Oh, that…" she shrugged it off, "it was nothing."
She smiled at him and he couldn't help but smile back. That was so characteristic of her; a smile so contagious it spreads to everyone around her, remote or close, faster than a plague. She laid back, resting in the aftermath of the jungle events, and he returned to his kolto compresses.
He looked warily at one of his hands and winced. The said hand was shaking uncontrollably and there were unhealthy burns through the gloves. He had taken a bad blaster shot just below the wrist. He removed the glove carefully and assessed the damage. Apparently, the woman caught his grimace and she leaned toward him slowly.
"Mhm, that's not good."
"Nu-huh," he replied.
"Can I take a look at it?" she asked.
He nodded and she took the Medpac from him.
"Let's see…" she muttered to herself. She examined the wound very carefully, not wanting to cause him any extra pain. While she busied herself with his wound, he let his eyes wander. Her hands were calloused and rough, yet agile. Her nails were dirty and uneven. She had a scar on her right thumb. He followed her arm, noticed that one of the straps on her armor was broken. Behind her, the Mandalorian stirred but didn't wake up. His eyes returned to the woman. Her hair was a mess; with the occasional leaf here and there, mud and sweat tarnishing its natural glow. Her eyes were focused on his hand, brow furrowed in concentration. He noticed that her ears were pierced. Another small scar just below her ear. A sharp sting on his hand brought him back to his wound. She had just put some kolto compresses on the wound and was now wrapping his hand with gauze. She raised her head and looked at him apologetically. He saw her close her eyes softly, like when she entered her Jedi trance. Not this time, gorgeous, he thought. He reached for her chin with his free hand, interrupting her before she sunk too deep into Jedi meditation. She opened her eyes, surprised.
"Keep your strength, you look like you need it as much as I do," he explained. "We'll fix this burn on the Hawk, no hurry."
She pouted, amusement in her eyes. The spark disappeared quickly though and she frowned, her glance fixed on his forehead.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You've got a nasty cut there. Don't move."
She took a compress and raised herself on her knees to have a better look at the cut. He felt the cold sting of the kolto on his skin. He looked absent-mindedly at her breastplate, dirt spots here and there, dried blood, scratches, until the realization that this was her breastplate struck him. Not that he hadn't seen anything like it before, but it still felt embarrassing or disrespectful to be staring fixedly at a woman's armoured chest. Since she was almost blocking his view, he simply closed his eyes, breathing in the mixed scents of the jungle, blaster oil, drying blood and, most of all, her perfume.
A sudden tug on the elevator's rope made the nacelle swing. Losing her balance, she tumbled over him. He was taken by surprise and all he could manage was to fall back, cushioning her fall. He was stuck under her weight, his head level with her neck, pain coming in waves from his burnt hand that was pressed between their bodies. The Mandalorian woke, took his repeating blaster and shot in the air at whatever had caused the disturbance. The Wookiee started roaring after the Mandalorian.
'Human fool!' The huge creature started toward the man.
"Shut up, carpet!" Apparently, Wookiees don't intimidate Mandalorians.
The Wookiee growled aggressively, pointing his bowcaster towards the Mandalorian. He was interrupted when something fell loudly on the floor of the elevator. The woman wrinkled her nose.
"Eww. What's that?" That thing really is disgusting, she thought.
"Supper," answered the old man, no longer meditating. She chuckled.
A whisper reached her ears.
"Artie, not that I dislike the position but my hand hurts."
She returned her eyes to the soldier, acknowledging their entanglement with a start. She scrambled back to her feet and moved toward the dead creature. She nudged it with her boot. It was rather squishy, aside from the part that was now burnt crispy.
"Yuck."
The Mandalorian cut in. "That thing was gnawing at the cable."
She eyed him, a smirk on her face. "Good reflexes." He smiled back.
"We're almost there," the soldier said, pointing up.
She looked up and saw the shape of the walkways. A feeling of dread seized her, and she looked apprehensively at the approaching platform. They slowly levelled with it. The Wookiee anchored the elevator to the platform and waited for his cargo to get off. Another woman was waiting on the walkways, a Jedi, according to the double-bladed lightsaber hanging from her belt. She was sided with a young blue twi'lek, who was nervously playing with one of her headtails.
"So," the woman said dryly.
"Well, we're alive…" started the soldier.
"Not that, Carth," retorted the woman, "The Star Map. Have you found it?" She turned her face toward the armor-wearing woman. "So, Artemis?"
Artemis, Artie for short, sighed and forced a smile. "Of course we found it Bastila; we wouldn't have come back if we hadn't found it…"
"Good." The other woman, Bastila, was a bit shorter than Artemis, but her stare was strong and unforgiving.
"And look Bastila," Artemis added, "I even brought back an extra." She gestured toward the old man, who was now standing and painfully stretching his back.
"Oh, great," Bastila said, rolling her eyes, "another mouth to feed."
The old man looked at her, startled.
"It's also a great pleasure meeting you, milady Bastila. I'm Jolee Bindo." He hadn't even tried to hide the amusement in his voice. She looked back at him sharply and was about to answer something when the Mandalorian's low voice interrupted her.
"What's the plan now?"
"Well," Carth said "Let's get off this thing first. Mission, come and give us a hand unloading all that stuff." He gestured toward the small mound of armor and goods.
The young twi'lek nodded and reached for the closest Mandalorian armor. She seemed relieved to have something to busy herself with. They finished emptying the floor of the elevator quite quickly.
Artemis looked at each one of them and stopped her eyes on Bastila. "What's our mission status?"
The other woman glanced back at her. Her face froze in concentration for a second. "Well, we have the Star Map. There are only the internal matters of the Wookiee village left to solve, I believe."
"Zaalbar!" blurted the twi'lek.
Artemis looked at her, noticing the worry that was obvious on the young girl's face. Zaalbar was the twi'lek's wookiee friend. They had been together during harsh times and were now practically inseparable. Mission and Big Z. Artemis smiled at the girl. This was almost done, she thought. Almost. There was only the family feud left to resolve. This realization lent her strength. She smiled at her team.
"Mission, you're coming with me and Bastila to settle this." Before Bastila could voice any opposition, Artemis went on. "Canderous, Carth, carry all this stuff back to the Hawk. Jolee, see if you can get anything done for supper." She eyed the carcass of the creature with a smile, which Jolee returned. She went on. "I really hope to be done for supper, you know…" She pushed Bastila forward, Mission on her heels.
The three men left on the walkways resumed their activity. The soldier, Carth, his hands on his task but his eyes on the women, heard Jolee mutter something about women that had them laugh. Then, as ordered, they headed toward their ship, the Ebon Hawk.