Location: The Boneyard,
Iego
Objective: Investigate signs of previous scavengers within Iego's Boneyard and discover what they found before they disappeared.
Tags:
Shae'ri Mor
Erve's crooked grin remained as Shae'ri answered her observation about Twi'leks. Then slowly disappeared.
Most Twi'leks haven't endured the life I have. Erve's eyes followed Shae'ri's gesture toward her pale hand.
"Oh." That was considerably heavier than what Erve had meant.
Truthfully, most of the Twi'leks Erve had met had been dancers in clubs, cantinas, and whatever other establishments a younger Erve had wandered into with credits in her pocket and questionable plans for how to spend them. They'd generally been friendly, attractive, and considerably less likely to lead two battalions of stormtroopers into a hole beneath a graveyard filled with gigantic bones. Somehow, admitting that now seemed like a bad idea.
"Wasn't exactly what I meant." Erve scratched briefly at the back of her neck.
"But, uh..." She stopped. There had been struggles in Erve's own life. Plenty of them. The problem was that an uncomfortable number had been voluntarily inflicted upon herself. There was a difference between surviving circumstances forced upon you and seeing something dangerous, stupid, or inadvisable and deciding it sounded like fun.
Erve suspected Shae'ri had just revealed something important. She also suspected she was spectacularly unqualified to respond to it tactfully. Fortunately, Shae'ri provided an escape.
If something does jump out, I suggest you hit it hard enough that it regrets having evolved.
Erve's grin immediately returned.
"Now that I can do." She liked Shae'ri. Erve decided that rather definitively as they continued deeper. The Twi'lek could do the thinking. Erve would do the hitting.
In general terms, anyway. Erve wasn't stupid, and Shae'ri clearly wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty. But there was something appealing about the arrangement. Shae'ri could determine
whether something needed to be smashed, and Erve could concern herself with the finer details of
how hard.
The passage narrowed around them as they continued after the disturbed trail. Erve's scanner remained in one hand, her heavy saber comfortably within reach of the other. Ahead, the stormtroopers advanced cautiously. Then—
Scrrrrk. Erve stopped.
Scrrrrk. Her hand immediately closed around her saber. Metal? Claws? Something dragged slowly across stone beyond their lights. Then came the singing. Erve's expression twisted.
"What the—"
Every instinct she possessed told her to ignite the weapon. She didn't. Barely. Shae'ri hadn't drawn hers yet. The troopers hadn't found a target. Lighting a bright blade in a dark tunnel was a fantastic way of announcing exactly where you were to something that already knew the terrain better than you did. So Erve waited. Her thumb rested against the activation switch.
Scrrrrk. The sound seemed to crawl through the tunnel. Erve's jaw tightened.
"Come on..." A scream erupted behind them. Erve spun. White armor slammed against the ground. One of the stormtroopers disappeared backward with such violence that for a fraction of a second Erve could only register pieces of it—the trooper's hands clawing at the ground, boots scraping desperately across stone, his rifle falling away. Then darkness swallowed him.
Shae'ri's saber ignited. Erve's came alive almost with it.
SNAP-HISS. The heavy blade flooded the passage with light as Erve stepped forward, her previous restraint evaporating instantly. Shae'ri glanced toward her.
Here's your chance to hit something. Erve looked at her.
For one brief moment, absolute delight broke through the tension.
"See?" She shifted her saber into both hands.
"Knew I liked you."
Then Erve ran. There was no cautious advance now. No studying scratches. No scanner. She clipped the device back onto her belt without breaking stride and charged into the darkness where the stormtrooper had disappeared. Her saber became both weapon and torch, its glow throwing wild shadows across ancient supports and corroded metal as her boots hammered against the passage floor.
"HEY!" If the thing wanted prey, Erve was going to give it something considerably less cooperative. Her eyes searched for white armor. Movement. Blood. Anything.
Behind her, the others could provide discipline, tactics, and sensible decision-making. Erve had finally been given permission to be the hammer. And somewhere ahead was a nail.