Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Close Encounters

@[member="Galina"]

"What are you doing? Who are you?"

The voice belonged to a Weequay. It came from behind him, but he paid little attention to it as he continued rummaging through the storage unit. He was looking for a flight suit in the appropriate size, but he was having a difficult time of it. He shrugged and looked over his shoulder at the guard, who was holding a hand to the blaster that rested on his hip. He thinks it makes him look tough. The fact that he needs to do so tells me the exact opposite is true. He's just a pawn. He dismissed the being, largely, because he was busy. Much too busy to be paying attention to anything other than the task at hand. He'd been paid handsomely for this. Several rare written works and a painting worth a small fortune, though he would never sell it.

"I'm looking for a flight suit. Have you seen one that might fit me?" Shakrin asked. "Most of these seem to be for females."

"Most of the test pilots are female. Expendable. Who are you?"

"My name is of little consequence. You intend to draw your weapon. I must warn you that it will not end well for you if you do, however."

As soon as he said that, the Weequay went for his weapon. Shakrin slid across the space between them and knocked the weapon to the side, causing it to fire into a nearby wall. His other hand slid forward and slammed, palm first, into the alien's chest, knocking him back and sending a puff of air whooshing from his lungs. Instead of falling back, he pressed the advantage, delivering a short kick to the aliens knee, shattering it. A scream of pain ripped through the room, but there wasn't anyone else around to hear it. He'd felt no one else within the immediate vicinity, which was why he'd chosen to take the chance to make his move now instead of waiting.

The Weequay fell to his knees, dropping the blaster as his hands went to wrap around the shattered appendage. A boot collided with his head, forcefully snapping it to the side and knocking the being unconscious. Shakrin lowered his foot, and immediately turned back to searching through the storage units for an acceptable pilots outfit. Eventually he did manage to find one and started climbing into it. The ship he was stealing was one that did not come with its own life support system, which left him resorting to one of those old black things that most Tie pilots wore. They were rather hideous and often chafed his horns, but he had to do what he had to do. Stealing the prototype was easy enough, the hard part had been getting the plans off their systems, and scrubbing it completely clean. That had taken a little help from a slicer, who was already departed.

Once he was all suited up, and with the copy of the schematics in his hands, he left the room and walked down the halls, holding the helmet tucked under his arm. Even though he'd taken this contract on, and accepted the payment, from the very beginning he'd intended to betray his employer. When it came to weapons like these, no side deserved them. This fighter was much too powerful to be allowed into the hands of, well, anyone. Sometimes you have to add to the bounty on your head to do what is necessary. It was an acceptable risk, and one that he'd taken many times before. No one had claimed the bounty yet, so he wasn't worried about it.

When he rounded the corner and entered the hangar, he found there was a small guard in position around the fighter. They seemed more interested in whatever betting game they were playing than him, however. He slipped quietly around them and eased himself up into the fighter without them even noticing he was there. He slipped his helmet on and fastened it into place before briefly glancing down at the men. They were quite likely to be injured, but such was the way of life. These men had chosen a side in things and now they were going to suffer for it. That's why Shakrin never chose a side, but always did things so that no particular side would benefit. He enjoyed it because it proved that he was right about the nature of the galaxy.

He'd examined all of the schematics and such for the ship when the slicer had gotten him access to them, so he knew how to fly the thing. Looking around, he found the right switch and the cockpit descended. This drew the attention of the guards, and they all jumped up drawing weapons. A lesser man would have saluted them as a way of showing off. Shakrin did not. Instead, he powered up the engines and flipped the shields on before using the repulsors to lift the fighter from the ground. He turned the ship about and pushed it out of the hangar and into the space around the space station, jetting away from it and into the nearby gas nebula, navigating based on his feelings. Enemy fighters that had been on patrol began to follow him, some of them having pilots good enough to follow him in the nebula.

The fighter he was in, a new prototype, was much faster than the interceptors chasing him. He pushed the ship to its limits, and flew swiftly through the nebula and out the other side. Once there, he plotted a jump in his navigation computer to the planet he'd chosen as his final destination for this mission. It was an out of the way world, not inhabited, and perfect for what he needed to happen. Punching the ship into hyperspace, he sat back to wait even though he knew the ship had a tracking beacon in it. In fact, he was counting on the fact that it did. If it didn't, it would rather ruin my plans.

Several hours later, the ship came out of hyperspace and he piloted it towards the planet. It wasn't long before scanners picked up other ships following him. That was good. They'd figured out the only planet on his rather simple one shot trajectory. Not like I made it hard for them. Flying into the atmosphere, he deliberately made the ship begin to malfunction. Debris began to spin off of the vessel as it passed through the upper atmosphere. The ship was starting to break apart. He wanted it to break apart. It was all part of his plan. Once he was safely within the atmosphere, he jettisoned the canopy and climbed out. As he did so, he activated the small personal cloaking device on his arm and then jumped free of the vessel. As it flew off to crash in a fiery explosion, likely starting a fire that would burn for quite some time, he flitted towards the ground with rapid speed.

Most people would have been panicking, but he didn't. He fell until he reached the outer branch of trees, and reached out towards the limbs, grabbing hold of one. His arm jerked out of its socket, and he was forced to let go, but it had slowed his descent. He hit the next tree branch, cracking it completely, and fell downward with a thud onto the ground. It hurt like hell, to be sure, but he would survive. The Force ate some of the pain away, and had lessened his impact just slightly. He couldn't control it to do so, but he often found that if he thought about what he needed to happen, it sometimes actually worked out. This had been a huge risk, but sometimes life was about risks.

As he lay there on the forest floor, arm out of socket and broken, though not a compound fracture, he stared up at the sky above him as the cloaking device clicked off, it's small power supply depleted. The hope was that they would have seen the fighter go down, and would assume that he'd been killed in the fire, or jettisoned who knew where with all of the debris that had been coming off of the thing. He reached up with his good hand and removed his helmet, letting it roll away. There was time to rest here. It would be a while before he could use the homing beacon he'd installed in his Skipray to bring it to him. At least he didn't have to worry about the locals looking for him since there weren't any. It actually didn't feel horrid out either. He could maybe enjoy it as a little vacation. At least he slept peacefully.
 
(OOC: Sorry it took so long!)

There was nothing that was quite as familiar to her as the situation that @[member="Shakrin"] was currently in. The crash had changed her life, even now, years later still haunted by the sounds of the ship tearing apart as it hit the ground. Her family's lives extinguished in a single moment, but for some reason she had survived when she should have died. There were days now especially in the hard winters that she wish she had died then and there. Only battered and bruised she'd made it out. It was only after the fires had left it that she returned, a young ten year old. There was little but ashes of her parents left, something she buried later on but a few things had survived and kept her alive for the first few days.

It wasn't long before she figured out that the supplies she had would run out. Barely speaking basic, barely taught, the girl could read it, write it, but speak it was another story. She'd wandered for miles looking for any sign of another, but nothing. Alone. It had stayed that way for many years, until she finally had to take the life of a stranger. It was him or her, and a sharp jagged piece of metal she used for a knife, she ended it, but not without a few wounds herself. Strangers, she never trusted, and now she snapped from her sleep hearing that sound of metal ripping apart. Peeking from her shelter, she watched as the ship fell crashing not to far away.

There was something about this, that she couldn't let go. Racing almost silently through the woods her bow strung with an arrow just in case, something told her she might need it. With no idea how much time had passed it wasn't long before she came to a small clearing, looking above to the broken tree limbs and the body that lay upon the ground. Seeing his chest rise and fall she knew the being had survived, like she had, but it gave her no reason to trust. Stepping closer she inspected his injuries, but did nothing. As she was about to retreat into the bushes to watch, one misstep and a single branch snapped beneath her foot, to her sounding like a gunshot through the woods, eyes widened, hoping to remain unnoticed. With luck he might have just been unconscious, not sleeping. No way to be sure but she now backed away slowly keeping her eyes on him, bow stung and pulled taunt. There was no way she'd go through what the other alien had put her through.
 
(OOC: You don't have to apologize to me.)

The sleep was good. He'd needed it for quite some time now. Rarely did he sleep well, knowing that the galaxy itself was out to get him. That might seem rather self-absorbed, but it truthfully wasn't. It was an enlightened perspective. Shakrin was one of the few people who truly understood what the galaxy was, and that understanding put him on edge. Everyone else was inclined to be disillusioned about their surroundings, about who they were, about everyone else. Not him. He saw everything for what it was, but he still wanted to save everything that he could. It was a conundrum, to say the least. His lot in life was essentially to be the enigma, the person that no one understood, and no one could ever truly trust. He wouldn't stab someone in the back, not literally, but he might pull their feet out from under them.

As he slept, something approached. He could feel it. Not a thing, though. It was another life form. He felt her curiosity, felt her twinge of fear. @[member="Galina"] felt off to him. There was something different about her. He remained as he was, though he'd woken as soon as he felt her. It was easy to pretend to be asleep when your body was so tired that it didn't want to move. Even his eyes remained focused on his eyelids staying shut. He controlled his breathing to be slow and rhythmic so that it would seem he was still asleep, and it seemed to work, as she approached and looked him over.

She didn't touch him, though. He expected her to try and rob him. That's what most people would do if they found a strange sleeping man in the woods. Clearly this wasn't one of those that had been sent to hunt him. Who is she then? Why is she here? This is a deserted world. So many questions and the only way he'd get answers would be to ask them. He waited though, listening to her as she stood above him. Then she started to retreat, but when she did, she snapped one of the fallen limbs of the trees that he'd crashed through. In the silent day around them, she might as well have thrown a thermal detonator into the woods. Still, he didn't jump up and draw a weapon or anything, he remained lying as he was, choosing to simply speak instead.

"You should be quieter," he said, voice a whisper that still would carry to her in this quietness. "I knew you were coming before you arrived, but in the future, you should be quieter when you sneak up on someone. And don't get so close. That was dangerous."
 
@[member="Shakrin"]

Galina jumped, eyes wide completely startled by the man. For a while she only stared, her bow drawn tight, arrow strung. Had he moved he likely would have been shot by her in a heartbeat. It was so clear the girl was far from trusting. Her eyes shifted back and forth trying to work through his words, to understand. The effort clearly written upon her face, the fear, confusion as she tried to work out what he'd said.

"Do not ...understand." She managed, slowly forming each word. "Who you? Why here?" She asked, but somehow doubted the answers she'd be able to work out. His first sentences there were enough gaps in that she just couldn't put together what was said. Struggling with Basic was an understatement.
 
Interesting. It appears basic is a language lost to her. How long has she been here? She must be alone. For some odd reason that bothered him deep down. Why was she alone? Why was she stranded on this world? He turned his head a bit and opened his eyes to look at her, noticing the bow but saying nothing of it. She looked a bit on the unkempt side, but she looked rugged. She looked like a survivor. Admirable, but lots of people could survive dire circumstances. What most interested him was that @[member="Galina"] seemed to have done so without anyone at all. Even a droid could have provided someone to talk to. She clearly had known basic or she wouldn't be able to speak any of it back to him.

He looked up into her eyes and studied her. Fire. That's what he saw in them. She would fight if she had to. That was good, she needed that in this galaxy. What it also meant was that he needed to be delicate with this encounter or he'd wind up with an arrow in his chest, which would not be the best way to die. What he needed was to communicate with her in an effective manner. If she didn't understand what he'd just said, then he would have to opt for a tactic similar to when one approached a new species that didn't know basic.

Lifting a hand, he pointed to his chest. "Shakrin." She had asked who he was, that was her answer. To answer why he was here, he pointed up at the sky, then pointed to the broken tree branches above him, then to the ones around him and finally patted the ground with his hand. "Fell from the sky."
 
@[member="Shakrin"]

Galina seemed baffled, but still frightened, and holding her ground as she watched him. Quiet for a moment, but he eventually spoke. She pulled the bowstring tighter. "No move!" She demanded, but taking a step back she only watched his movement, things now seemed to make more sense to her. But the girl wasn't putting her bow down, nor easing up on the tension of the string.

Looking to the broken branches, to the sky above, to the ground. A sigh fell from her lips, frustrated. He was trying to communicate and the girl felt badly for reacting so harshly, but it wasn't without reason. "Galina." She spoke with ease. Her own name she at least seemed to know and speak.

A long silence fell before she spoke again, clearly thinking something over. "Fell from sky like you." Words again slowly spoken with care, small pauses between each word. Her eyes seemed so saddened at those five simple words. To have been alone for so long, without anyone at all, nothing but a datapad and a little bit of a shelter remaining in the wrecked hull of the ship. Pain radiated off her like a wave battering the shoreline during a storm. Something had happened to her, and whatever it was had been heartbreaking.
 
He didn't truly move, not save for his arm, and that didn't make @[member="Galina"] shoot him so he left it at that. The fear she felt was not surprising to him, and he didn't blame her for it. It was pure and genuine. For all she knew, he could be some monster from space who washed ashore in her home and he'd flay her alive at the first chance. That wasn't what he was, but she was right to fear strangers on a world that was supposed to be uninhabited. He'd have felt the same way if he was in her shoes. That bow was her defense mechanism. It made her feel safe. He made a mental note never to touch it.

She spoke again, waves of frustration running off of her. Words were not going to come easy for her, he could tell, and that meant she was going to have a really hard time understanding him. Really the best thing to do would have been to use pictures, or images, to convey what he needed, because she could no doubt recognize those much easier than she could understand his words. He didn't have any way to draw, however, and his other arm was still messed up so he wasn't going to be doing much of anything anyway.

"How long?"

Would she understand that? He felt a massive amount of pain radiating from her. So much so that he visibly winced. She was a bit overwhelming for him, but that could have been in large part due to the fact that he was tired and injured. Emotions always seemed to have more of an effect on him when he wasn't at full speed, so to speak. He pointed towards her bow, and then towards her head. Best way to distinguish.

"Won't hurt. Have no weapons."
 
@[member="Shakrin"]

Galina's brow furrowed, just wanting to understand. Wishing so much her parents had taught her more of basic before all of this had happened. Even now, just hearing her own voice seemed strange, odd. For she'd not a reason to use it for almost a decade. When there was no one to talk to ... no reason to be joyful or sing, not a need at all to speak.

A sigh fell again, the situation too frustrating, too hard. Still she felt afraid, and very defensive. On edge, would be the term. Every part of her wanted to be able to communicate, to be able to talk to him, really talk. Anything to determine for herself if he was friend or foe. Nothing she could trust, but instinctively without being aware of it she reached out through the force to touch upon his mind, but only for a second before she with drew. Instincts only, had brought about unique skills to her, ones that she still did not understand.

He spoke again and her gaze shifted back to him. Numbers she recalled a bit better.

"Eight..." Spoken with ease. The next word, she struggled with, stumbling on it. "Y-yyears."

Closing her eyes for a moment, it caught up with her just how long she'd been alone... Completely on her own, trapped in a foreign place, lost and far from home. Not a pretty thought to think about.

A step back was the reaction as he lifted his hand again. Tense, and very defensive to say the least. He pointed to her bow, then to her. "No trust you." She managed. The girl had no reason to, granted he hadn't hurt her but he was visibly injured. It was unlikely that he could have done much even with a weapon to her. Sadly, she want to trust him, to have someone else to be with her, anyone to talk to. After eight years of bitter sadness, and utter isolation anyone would crave that, but after the last visitor, she knew to be careful. And Galina had doubts that perhaps maybe this time she was too careful.

"You hurt?" She pointed to his broken mangled arm, finally releasing the tautness of the bow, but holding both arrow and bow in hand more than ready to use in a heartbeat if she needed it.
 
Her frustration was immense. And briefly he thought he felt something touch his mind, but it could have just been the Force nudging him about the situation. He didn't know. Truthfully he knew little of what he could do with the Force or what it could do to him. The most that he knew of it was that, thanks to his connection to it, he could often feel the emotions of others. It was strange to him, and he honestly wished he couldn't do it, most of the time. The pain and suffering he often felt from people tended to wear him down. There were always moments of joy, but in this galaxy they were less likely.

When @[member="Galina"] said how long she'd been alone he nodded. That would explain why she struggles to understand or speak basic. Eight years is a long time to be stuck somewhere with no one to talk to. It's a wonder she hasn't gone insane. Then she said she didn't trust him and he nodded again. He didn't blame her for not trusting him. A stranger arriving on a world that was supposed to be uninhabited. Not least of which she also didn't truly know him. At least someone had taught her to be wary of strangers before she'd been stuck on this world. That was better than it could have been. If anything, that alone might help her to survive. People in this galaxy were hideous monsters. Often it was best if you never talked to them.

"Yes," he said in response to her question. "Broken here."

Lifting his hand, he indicated the spot where he knew the arm to be broken. It was also out of socket, but he couldn't do anything about that himself either, and likely setting the bone would take priority over putting his arm back into socket. When he called for his ship the medical droid could take a look at him, though he would be grateful to have help from her if she offered it.

"I won't hurt you."
 

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