Chapter 5 – Sudden Yet Inevitable
As we headed out of the warehouse and down the path toward Drelliad Village, I unsnapped the cover of the satchel that hung crossways over my chest. It was made of a durable heavy-weave fabric, and seemed pretty light. Given that, and the fact that I was just starting out, I figured there wasn't much in it. There were about a bajillion different compartments, which was awesome, except that most of them were empty.
But I wasn't too concerned. I mean, c'mon, nobody dies in the starting area, unless you hit a nasty bit of lag when you've just opened fire on a fresh group of mobs. Even so, it was a little discouraging to see that all my worldly goods consisted of nothing more than two medpacks.
I refastened the cover and turned to Skavak as we jogged along. "Don't suppose you have any supplies," I said. I didn't even bother looking at the med droid we passed – I knew I didn't have a single frack* to my name.
He didn't reply, and I looked closer, puzzled. "Uh, Skavak?" I said, stepping closer and peering at him.
Oddly, he did this weird backpedaling thing so that he ended up beside me, rather than facing me. "Let's keep moving, Captain," he said. But he just stood there, instead of actually heading any further.
Right, I realized. I'm the PC. So with a broad grin I jogged down the pathway and toward a small group of Republic troopers crouched behind a barricade that blocked the way to Drelliad Village. One of them looked up as I approached and furtively waved me over.
"Headquarters, this is forward recon, do you copy? Headquarters!" His other hand was cupped over the receiver in his ear – the explosions probably weren't helping the signal. Shaking his head, he scowled. "Blast. Thought I had 'em. … You look like you know your way around a blaster. Y'wanna be a hero?"
I already am a hero. You just don't realize it yet. But of course, I was playing a smuggler, so I had to play it smooth. I put my hands on my hips and grinned. "What's a hero make these days?"
He chuckled. "More than me, citizen," he said dryly.
Blaster fire rattled at the barricade they'd set up, and I quickly dropped into a crouch, as I wasn't entirely sure what the mechanics for environmental damage might be. "Well then, what is it that you need?"
A faint glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. "A crack separatist militia has taken over this village." Sensing my skepticism, he shook his head. "Now we're not talking dumb grunts and farmers. They've got experts in there with serious jamming equipment."
I nodded slowly. "Any idea how to solve that problem?"
"Figure I got one option left: Ask you for help, Miss…"
He paused, and I reached out and offered him my hand. "Captain Aurielle," I corrected him, trying not to be too snotty about it.
"Sergeant Blyes. Well met, Captain. My mission is to deliver information about the seps' numbers, weaponry, and position, but I can't report anything through this interference. I need those separatist jammers neutralized." He peeked past the barricade, then gestured at some sort of antenna tower just past the entry to the town. "So if you're headed into the village anyway, maybe you could handle it for us. If you waste those separatist jammers, report back here. I'll see if I can requisition some equipment you can use."
Equipment sounded great – I knew that my gear was shoddy at best, even though I was supposed to be this fantastic pilot. You always start out with trashy gear. So I nodded again. "Well, I don't want to make any promises, but I'll do what I can." I tried for a charming smile. "Wish me luck – and give me some cover fire?"
Blyes grinned back at me. "We can manage that!"
I turned to look over my shoulder at Skavak. "You ready?" I asked, not sure what sort of reply – if any – I might get.
But he shrugged. "We got someplace to go?"
It sounded like the best I was going to get, so I took a breath, nodded one last time to Blyes, grabbed my pistol, and headed around the barricade.
The so-called "crack separatist militia" … well they may not have been dumb grunts, but their gear was as crappy as mine and they weren't particularly talented or even well-trained. Their baseline MO seemed to be 'stand out in the open and shoot at folks you don't recognize.' I tried not to think about what that meant about Blyes and his crew.
In addition to the small clusters of seps guarding the tech stations, there were some patrols scattered through the town. For the most part, we were able to avoid them. There was a fair amount of debris to hide behind; it looked like the fight to take the area had been pretty brutal. I tried not to think too much about that, either.
There was a lone guard outside the control tower – he went down pretty quickly. We edged up to the doorway and I looked in while Skavak kept watch for anyone approaching. There was a long, narrow hallway that led into the building. I could hear voices ahead, but I couldn't see anyone. Great. It's a freaking deathtrap.
"Guess we'll just have to go in guns blazing and take everybody out," I muttered to Skavak.
He smirked back at me. "Aw, Captain, you say that like it's a bad thing."
Aren't these supposedly your allies? Damn, son, you are really a piece of work, I reflected. Not that I needed the reminder. But I just sort of shrugged. It didn't feel like a good time to wax philosophical about the generally-casual attitude toward killing random antagonists. Yeah, it was kill or be killed, but while my character might be a savvy, battle-hardened veteran, I wasn't.
And of course, Skavak probably wouldn't be the most sympathetic ear for that conversation anyway. So with blasters drawn, we headed down the hallway. In a matter of moments, the seps were down and I went up to the console room to reprogram the main station. Let's pretend I have some idea what I'm doing. So I typed in NEW PASSCODE.
ENTER PASSCODE _
Hm. I might be able to manage this. I pondered for a moment, then grinned to myself and typed in QTRA!T0R. Snitches get stitches, you jerkass. What can I say, I hold a grudge. The screen cleared and the words PASSCODE RESET appeared in the middle for a moment before blinking out.
"Well aren't you just something else." I turned around to see Skavak eyeing me with grudging approval.
So I put on a coy half-smile and sauntered toward him. Ugh. Here goes nothing. "Oh, I'm just full of surprises," I murmured.
Skavak stepped toward me and slipped one arm around my waist, pulling me close. "I just bet you are," he whispered back. He was warm and strong, and he smelled kind of good, too, and I was abruptly annoyed with myself for only being somewhat repulsed by him.
Focus, girl, focus! I took a breath and carefully refrained from clenching my jaw and – dammit! – I kissed him.
It took every bit of my concentration to relax in his arms. I'll grant that the man wasn't a bad kisser, but deep in my gut I had this panicky sense of wrongness. It's one thing to smooch a guy you're not particularly interested in, but it's a very different matter to smooch one guy when you're really interested in somebody else. It just … well, it just isn't right.
But as it turned out, I didn't have to struggle with my moral dilemma for very long, because it was only a moment before I felt a sudden, sharp, burning pain stab at me, just below my ribcage. And then everything seemed to fade, and I was floating away into a gentle darkness…
[AN: So raise your hand if you saw that coming a mile off! Hahahaha... but isn't that so often what life feels like? You come up with this great idea, like "oh, I should do THIS next time!" And then you get a next time, and you put your idea in play, and you get to learn firsthand that your brilliant idea is - well - not so brilliant!
Wow, it's been ages since I updated this thing. Of course, I did finish off a couple of shorter pieces, and I'm still trying to finish up "Best Laid Plans." Anyway, please don't think I've given up on that - or this! With the holidays fast approaching, it's anybody's guess how much time/energy/mental stamina I'll have to devote to writing. I'm so blessed to get along well with my family, so I'm hoping that it will be a way to recharge from the grind of teaching and grading and calling parents and nagging students to do their work.
The title is a shoutout to Firefly, for anyone who was wondering. I started with some Alice in Wonderland references. We'll see where it goes from here.
Oh, and
*A frack is slang for a deci-cred, or 1/10 of a credit. Also used in the general sense of 'worthless.'
And as always, reviews - by which I mean "say hello please!" - are not only welcome but eagerly hoped for. Chances are there will be lots of pointless refreshing over the next couple of days. But! With your help, it can be less pointless!]