Private Breath Between Stone

[Lumiya Dara]

The canyon did not welcome them. Instead it loomed; vast and indifferent, it's jagged walls rising like the ribs of some ancient, long-dead beast. Wind moved through it in uneven currents, not constant but pulsing; like breath drawn and released by something unseen. Dust whispered along the stone, catching in the fractured remains of the transport where it had carved its way down into the depths.

The descent had not been natural. Lumiya became aware of that before she became aware of anything else. Not through sight. Not through sound. But through absence. Consciousness returned to her in measured increments: controlled and deliberate. Pain followed, distant and catalogued rather than felt. The sharp edge of it dulled beneath discipline, filed neatly into something manageable, something irrelevant. She did not move immediately. Instead, she listened.

The transport groaned around her, it's ruined frame settling in slow, reluctant shifts. Somewhere nearby, a system sparked; irregular and unstable. Beyond that, the wind....though even that seemed inconsistent. It rose, then fell, not with any natural rhythm that she could place.

Her eyes fluttered open. Smoke drifted through the fractured interior, thin and wavering, pulled toward the broken hull where light bled in from above. The angle of it told her enough. They were deep - far deeper than any controlled descent would have allowed.

Memory soon followed. A stable flight. Clear trajectory. No external interference. And then - A pause. Not in the engines. But in the Force. The recollection settled into place with quiet precision. The pilot had faltered - yes. Slumped forward, life slipping without warning. But that alone did not account for the way the moment had felt. The subtle disruption. The absence where there should have been presence. As though something had….withdrawn.

Or been taken.

Lumiya exhaled slowly, her breath steady despite the lingering haze. Now, she moved. Metal protested softly as she shifted, extricating herself from the contorted remnants of her surroundings. Each motion was efficient, economical and untouched by panic. There was no place for it here. Only assessment. Only control.

Beyond the fractured hull, the canyon stretched in both directions. It was endless, uneven, and exposed. No immediate path upward. No clear signal of rescue. Isolation, then. But not emptiness.

Her gaze lifted slightly, not searching the wreckage now; but the space beyond it. The unseen. The intangible. That same absence lingered at the edges of her awareness. It was faint. Elusive. And wrong.

For a moment, she stilled completely. Then, almost imperceptibly she reached for it.
Somewhere within the shattered transport, a faint sound broke the stillness. Movement.

Survivors...

Tag: Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Vorr'kath. The Iridonian word bubbled to the surface of Xuko's consciousness a few moments after the unpleasant sensation first registered on his senses.

Xuko was no stranger to pain- the various scars on different parts of his body spoke to his resilience- but usually he had some say in the matter; some failure that led to a wound and with it, a lesson. The crash he'd just survived offered no such lessons, other than reminding him that in a contest of ship vs. ground, the ground always wins. Groaning softly, Xuko unbuckled himself from his seat and staggered towards the cockpit to give the pilot a piece of his mind. Nothing major was broken, as far as he could tell, but he was bleeding badly from a gash on his forehead and his ribs protested whenever he breathed too deeply.

Although he could vouch for it personally, his trip offered more evidence that this crash had been a particularly brutal one. Just as well that there'd been the prompt to buckle in for atmospheric reentry and landing prior to the crash. Twisted metal, the severe angle of the ship, and occasional showers of sparks from destroyed systems greeted him as he navigated the crashed transport.

Xuko didn't encounter any others on his way to the cockpit, but that was hardly surprising. The Zabrak wasn't entirely certain how many had been on board. Himself, the pilot, and... maybe others? He'd been one of the first onboard the transport and had spent most of the trip either meditating or practicing saber cadences in one of the back cargo holds. Even if he had come across other survivors, Xuko knew that he wouldn't be in a position to help them. Healing was not something that he was proficient in.

Having finally made it to the cockpit, Xuko found the pilot slumped over in his chair. A quick check for a pulse confirmed what Xuko suspected; the pilot was dead. So much for telling him off. But as he was turning to leave the cockpit, the Zabrak's eyes zeroed in on the reason for the pilot's demise; a small hole, perhaps a centimeter in diameter, burned through the viewport and roughly equal with the pilot's chair.

A blaster bolt.

Some pieces fell into place even as more questions arose. The ship, a few dozen miles away from its destination and presumably in safe territory, wouldn't have had its defense shields activated. And because it was a transport, it was not designed to defend against high-powered weaponry such as the sniper rifle that had pierced the cockpit. And if someone had been furnished with the transport's flight plan...

What Xuko didn't know was who was after the contents of this transport, or why. The Zabrak certainly hadn't been made aware of any precious cargo, but then again, not all precious cargo was material goods. That, at least, lent credence to the idea that there were others besides him and the pilot on the transport. It also lent a sense of urgency to Xuko's search as he realized that whomever had downed the transport was likely headed this way; either to steal the cargo...

....or to find their target and finish the job, if needed.

Slipping slightly on the sloped steel of the ship, Xuko found his way to an exit, his hopes sinking as their predicament became clearer. First he heard the low murmur of voices mixed with sobs of shock as a small group of survivors clustered around a young woman about his age who seemed to be functioning as a healer. A healer was good. Their current location was not.

"We need to move" Xuko said, glancing around the group of survivors before finally resting his eyes on the healer. "Can everyone walk?"

Lumiya Dara

 

[Lumiya Dara]

The sound of approaching movement drew her attention before his voice did. It was not abrupt. Nor panicked. But measured. Deliberate enough to belong to someone still in control of themselves. Lumiya’s focus shifted from the unseen to the immediate, her awareness narrowing as the figure emerged through the fractured interior. His presence altered the space; not forcefully, but distinctly. Where the others had gathered in uncertainty, he moved with purpose.

And he was bleeding.

Her gaze caught it without meaning to; the line of red at his brow, too stark against skin, too fresh to ignore. The reaction was immediate. Subtle, but real all the same. A tightening in her chest. A faint pull of dizziness that threatened at the edges of her awareness before she steadied it, drawing in a slow, controlled breath. Not now.

Her hand moved before she had quite decided to act, fingers slipping into her medical kit and retrieving a small bandage that was both simple and practical. The motion was quiet. Automatic. She stepped forward only to falter immediately. Not physically. But in thought. The others. Her gaze flickered past him again; to the injured, the ones who had not risen, the ones who could not. The bandage remained in her hand. Unplaced.

His words settled. We need to move. The instinct to answer did not come. Not immediately. Instead, her gaze lowered briefly - to the bandage she still held - before lifting again, returning to him with a quiet, searching uncertainty. “They can’t all walk.” It was not a refusal. Nor an agreement. It was just truth. A small pause followed, her gaze flickering once more toward the group gathered behind her. “There are fractures,” she continued, softer now, more precise. “Shock. Internal injuries that we can’t see yet.”

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bandage, the edges crumpling faintly under the pressure. Moving them would help. But moving them could also make things worse. Another breath was carefully taken. “If we move too quickly…” she added, the words trailing just slightly before she steadied them, “…we may lose more than we save.” Her eyes lowered again just for a moment before lifting, this time with something quieter in them. Something closer to apology than doubt. “I don’t know where we are yet,” Lumiya admitted. “Or what’s coming.” A pause before she continued softer with: “But I can’t leave them like this.”

Only then did her hand shift slightly, the bandage still there, as though she had not yet decided whether to offer it or keep it for someone who might need it more.

Tag: Xuko Pagoi

 

[Xuko Pagoi]

Fractures? Internal injuries? Xuko was confident that his current state had been described fairly accurately, and yet here he was; upright and moving. Despite the healer's words, Xuko decided to push the matter- partly to gauge the healer's backbone, and partly to determine if this was a case of the other passengers don't want to move or they truly can't move.

That said, he didn't want to make this a public argument, especially in front of the other survivors. Seeing an opportunity in the half-committed bandage, Xuko wordlessly gestured towards his head wound and walked a few paces away from the others, waiting until Lumiya joined him before beginning. The wound itself wasn't bothering him, but at least they had the appearance of privacy for a quick conversation.

"I'll tell you what's coming" he said, his voice low and steady. He wasn't threatening her, just sharing his guess. If she was to make the best decision for her patients then she needed all the information. "The same people who killed the pilot and caused us to crash. They're after something- or someone- on this transport." A pause to let that sink in. "It is a choice of trying to save some rather than none. Are you sure that they cannot be moved?"

Two hasty plans were beginning to form in Xuko's mind; if they could move, then they'd seek out a cave or other shelter within the canyon, as far away as they could get from the wreckage. If travel was not an option, then they'd have to hole up within the wreckage of the transport and make a stand there.

Neither option was particularly tempting.

"My name is Xuko, by the way."

Lumiya Dara

 

[Lumiya Dara]

She followed when he gestured. Not immediately; but without resistance. The bandage remained in her hand as she stepped away from the others, her awareness splitting in two: one part present with him, the other still tethered to the injured behind her. The distance did not feel like separation. Only responsibility stretched thinner.

When he spoke, she listened. Fully. Her gaze did not waver from him, though it softened. Not in ease, but in understanding as his words settled into place. Someone had done this. It was not accident. It was not failure of the transport itself. It was intent.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the bandage. Trying to save some rather than none. The phrasing lingered. It was not wrong. But not complete. “They can move,” Lumiya said at last, her voice quiet, but steadier now. “Some of them.” A small pause followed. “Others can’t. Not without making it worse.”

Her eyes lowered briefly - not in avoidance, but in thought - before lifting again, more focused now. “If we force them to keep up, we’ll lose them,” she continued. “Not later. But on the way.” The words came more easily now; not because she was certain, but because she understood what was at stake.

Her hand shifted slightly, and this time she did not hesitate. She stepped closer; but just enough, and reached up, the bandage finally finding it's purpose as she pressed it gently, and carefully, against the wound at his brow. Her touch was light. Efficient. Grounded in something steadier than the moment around them. “You’re right,” Lumiya said softly as she worked. “We don’t have time to stay here.”

A thoughtful breath was taken before she continued “But we don’t have time to lose them either.” She withdrew her hand, though her gaze lingered a moment longer, as if confirming the bandage would hold. “We move the ones who can,” she said, quieter now, but clearer. “And we make it possible for the others to survive until we can move them too.” A pause. Not with uncertainty, but with consideration. “There’s cover in the wreckage,” Lumiya added. “And shade along the canyon walls. It’s not enough, but it’s something.”

Only then did she step back slightly, the space between them returning; but changed now. Less uncertain. Yet still fragile. “My name is Lumiya,” she said, almost as an afterthought; but not an unimportant one.

Tag: Xuko Pagoi