First Reply A Wing and A Prayer

[Chanter Straye]

Location: Wildspace
Planet: Unknown

Chanter hit the ground in pitch blackness. The sounds around him were confusing, he couldn’t see, the air was choked with smoke and either there was a fight going on or something else that made wherever he was shake and tremble.

Emergency alert! Emergency Alert!

He coughed shuddering with cold, whatever had happened he was freed of his prison. He heard other voices, presumably others that had been like him, frozen as trophies. He felt another shake, then heard a groan above him and threw himself to the side blindly, the next instant a crash and the screaming started. Blood. Death. Misery. These things clouded the air and there was naught he could do.

He did however smell fresh air and started to crawl. He tried to gather his wits, even as his heart pounded, the last thing he remembered was the fat Hutt telling him he was to be added to his collection, right before he was kicked down and the liquid poured over him. He had no idea where he was then stored, no idea how long he’d been held captive, but he did know one thing. Whatever was going on wasn’t a rescue.

Had he been abandoned? Probably. It wasn’t the first time nor the last, but damn he would like very much to be able to see. Another shake rocked the building, no sound of a firefight, an earthquake? Wherever he was had a breathable atmosphere, presumably a moon or planet, it didn’t smell like Nar Shadda so it meant the bastard had just stashed his over sized macabre plaque somewhere. He growled as light hit his face, the thought making him want very much to sink his teeth into the giant slug.

On the heels of that thought, he found himself falling as the ground beneath him gave way. The next instant blackness met him again. When he came to he really wished he hadn’t. His body screamed its multitude of complaints so he knew he wasn’t dead.

“Damn...” He croaked breaking into a fit of coughing after that.

He slowly pushed himself up from a sitting position to stare at a wasteland of torn and broken earth. The earth had raged and had spared him, but as he looked at the smoke, he saw one lone hand draped over a rock and knew that he had only been the lucky one. The place he’d been likely had some catastrophic event due to the land bucking its rage and that must have freed all of them. He saw no ships, just a ravaged wasteland. Naturally he regretted wanting to see, a kinder mercy would have been to have died, but no. No. As per usual he was doomed to some sort of misery.

He painfully stood up and took stock of his person. He had no weapons, not that he quite needed them right then. All he had were the clothes on his back. Not that he really needed those either. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. Probably a concussion, but blessedly nothing broken. He just couldn’t change skin just yet, not till most of the biting pain was done which was inconvenient. He was going to need shelter, food and water, maybe he would get lucky and find civilization. He really could use a drink. Badly.

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

Thumbing the nameless thingamajig (OK, so maybe it wasn't truly nameless, much like he didn't truly have an engineering degree), the Miraluka eyed the planet dubiously - or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he observed the ever-shifting nature of the Force in the general direction of the planet, its patterns telling him close to nothing due to a lack of anything even resembling formal training.

"Well Reginald, what do you think? Nuclear detonation? Asteroid crash? Boring old earthquake?"

"This unit is and continues to be designated Aut-L, the frailties of your organic mind notwithstanding."

"Didn't answer the question there, Reggie, but oh well. The early bird catches the... sandwich?"

"Worm."

"Whatever."

Manoeuvring his definitely-not-ramshackle starfighter into the planet's atmosphere and grinning with satisfaction as the shield continued to function (a marked improvement from yesterday when reentry had blown a capacitor), his gloved hands not-so-expertly guided it towards the destination, seismic sensors continuing to beep as sensors are wont to do. His sensors, anyway.

One big whathaveyou? Check. The absence of first responders? Check. Finders keepers? Double check.

Chanter Straye​

 

[Chanter Straye]

The smell of hot metal on the wind met his nose long before the speck of something in the sky turned into, a sight of hell. What in petch is that… A flying cock?

From below the bastardized amalgamation of something that used to be familiar looked indeed like a piece of anatomy. Till he realized that what he saw was four engines. The word ‘ship’ could only be loosely applied and the bigger it got, the worse it looked. However, despite the fact it looked to be held together by sheer virulent spite, it was a mode off this rock.

Of course it meant walking back to where he had narrowly missed being goo, but if it meant maybe getting away in one piece? He’d cling to it. Probably quite literally ‘cling to’.

As he walked, the worse and worse he noted and he had to talk himself out of just walking away and trying to find something, someone, anything, else. What once was a proud republic starfighter was just… How? How could anything have done such a thing? He planted himself in full view from whatever consisted of a cockpit and waited. Hopefully the pilot would resolve himself and maybe, just maybe he either wouldn’t shoot or jet off before he got a chance to bargain.

However he had very serious reservations about just what he was fixing to do. Gods help him.

Zelannia Arcrin

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

One big pile of building-become-rubble awaiting his eagre hands? Oh, what a lovely day, and it seemed whatever had caused the devastation had calmed down to boot! Presumably, anyway, perhaps it would be best not to stick his head into any cave-like-formations just yet.

Starship shuddering as it met ground with something that could never ever in a million years be called elegance, Crowe opened up the cockpit...

... and found himself looking at a still-living person... a very big person.

Facial features still hidden by the seemingly visorless helmet, he paused for a moment - but only for a moment - before jumping out of the cockpit, climbing down, placing his hands on his hips and staring (presumably; no visor, remember?) at the... human?

He had never been very good at telling the difference.

"Heeeello there? Just, uh, standing there? You're not dying, are you? Shell... shock?"

Chanter Straye​

 

[Chanter Straye]

When the being stepped off the ship and chattered at him he was at a loss. Was this person part droid? Honestly he was still dealing with a close look at the flying death vehicle. “I need you to get me off this rock and take me to the nearest starbase. I’ll pay you for the trouble when we get there.”

In one piece. He added silently. He needed to get in contact with his superiors again as well as get caught up on current events while explaining just what the hell happened to the Op. He was liable to get his tail chewed, but it wasn’t like there had been any way to anticipate what had happened.

He stared down at the ‘kid-thing’ willing him not to deny him else he would have to use force. He was in no mood to play games and he didn’t care what had to be done. Even if he got snarled at for kidnapping a pilot and ship long enough to get off this hellish hole.

Zelannia Arcrin

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

Having arrived at the point where a person with eyes might squint, Crowe simply stood silently with his face tilted in the human-probably's general direction for a second or two before replying in an entirely too cheerful tone. "Very demanding! I shall be nice and assume it's just shock!"

Looking about the ruins, the Miraluka scratched his neck through the thick leather of his jacket before turning back to the tall man.

"You don't happen to have a, uh, sleeping coffin? Carbonite something, maybe? Cryo? Only one seat, you see, and I'm afraid it's occupied by yours truly. Unless you count Reggie, but he's a droid's head linked directly to the ship, no room for more."

Seemingly having said all he needed to say, Crowe turned as if to begin sifting through the ruins before suddenly spinning on his heels.

"Oh, right! Manners! I'm Crowe - who are you, strange large man from the rubble?"

Chanter Straye​

 

[Chanter Straye]

The Lopara was not deterred in the slightest. “Chanter Straye. And if I have to contort my body to fit in that space so you can fly me off this rock I will. However, I could just sit in your cargo hold, as I said you’ll get compensation for your trouble.”

Getting away, getting back where he belonged, was important. Problem was, he didn’t think this individual was going to comply and he was going to quickly start getting less nice. Gentleness wasn’t in his nature and he was far better and just taking what he wanted than asking.

Zelannia Arcrin

 

[Zelannia Arcrin]

"That's a name! Not bad, not good, right in the middle."

Turning back to the rubble, he began to poke and prod as if expecting a golden opportunity to leap out and tackle him, though he was just barely socially conscious enough to continue the conversation while doing so.

"Cargo hold? It's less cargo hold..." Hitting the side of the ship, a hatch beneath the cockpit sprang open - how? Ashla knows. "... more place where I shove small parts of salvage that aren't immediately useful to me. Hmm... the fuel pods are bigger, could move it about, leaving one empty..."

True enough, the "cargo hold" might just barely be able to fit the man, if he squeezed in so tight he'd be unable to move, but the various starship components, consumer electronics, malfunctioning blasters, and plastic dolls (???) would probably have to go.

Chanter Straye​