Distance

[Danger Arceneau]

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[SIZE=18.6666666666667px]T A T O O I N E[/SIZE]
Jundland Wastes

“Sometimes the greatest journey,
is the distance between two people.”

Dawn broke with the first rays of indigo peach light. Tatoo I broke the horizon as the mysterious mists that rose during the night began to dissipate. Already there was the sound of labor throughout the Arceneau Compound. Work began promptly at five a.m. and ran as much as it could during the cooler hours of the day. There were two eleven and a half hour shifts to cover the typical twenty-three hour period, with rotating day and night shift crews to distribute the hotter hours of the day fairly.

Alric would come to find out there was a specific routine set out for the crews on day to day activities. Maintenance on the speeders, aircraft, and the stronghold itself. Scouting parties and security sweeps. The tending of the animals mounts and the salvage runs in and out of the dunes and the mesa. There were trades to be made out with the local outposts and the Jawa Clans, not to mention the hours Danger spent talking with Flynn and Alisha through a special long distance network that somehow managed to get past the ore deposits that would block normal comm calls. Certainly was a technology that could be looked into, but as of yet, Danger had no pursuits to market it beyond her own use.

A steaming cup of tea would float its scented herbal aroma over to one [member="Alric Kuhn"], the piping hot beverage extended out to the Tetan. It was a routine he would be graced with every morning that Danger awoke at the compound. A small thing really, most would consider it insignificant. But it was a courtesy the native of Tatooine extended to the man.

Today was another day of work, if not with a bit more excitement than the rest. It would involve an excursion out into the Westerb Dune Sea and a visit to a ancient retrofitted Imperial Star Destroyer.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Twin suns and desert sand made for an unbearable heat throughout the day. The warehouse was air conditioned, but even then the space around him heated to such a degree that sweat would drip off of brow and his clothes would frequently be ruined. The former Titan had taken to not wearing his usual attire within the warehouse, instead he simply wore a pair of shorts and an undershirt that frequently became stained with sweat.

His bed was still the same pallet as before, his little cubicle was still tucked away. Many would have laughed to see the former Titan in such a state, but Alric never complained.

Perhaps it was his own stubbornness, perhaps he simply didn't care, or perhaps he was just trying to get on Danger's nerves. Whatever it was, Alric seemed to happily toil away within the warehouse, expanding his company from afar and poking his head out into the greater stronghold only every now and again to either speak with Danger, or enjoy the company of some of her guards. He had found that they were all good men, and some of them even liked him, most were poor conversationalists.

No matter what, however, there was always the morning routine of Danger bringing him tea. His hands extended to grasp the cup, though he frowned slightly at the heat of it. The Tetan had always wanted to say something about the oddity of drinking a hot beverage when it was one hundred degrees outside, but had never done so.

He supposed he owed that to manners.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Danger had her own steaming cup, but it was of Starcaf instead of tea. The caffeine would jumpstart her system,, wash the cobwebs away to get her started. It was a routine for her as much as having whiskey and a smoke. Most folk didn't realize Danger was a creature of set organization and schedules. And while living out here off the grid left a more laid back atmosphere, it didn't stop her from waking up early and drinking her stimcaf, piping hot and just as sweet.

Even this early in the morning - a nice cool morning at that - Danger was wide awake enough to catch the subtle furrowing of [member="Alric Kuhn"]’s brow, bringing three distinct horizontal lines over his forehead.

“What? Not in the mood for tea?” she’d ask, bringing her own brew up to her lips to take a sip. She was already dressed for travel; light colored desert jumpsuit that would zip up the middle. Under that was a thin beige blouse. She had a desert cowl and a gaiter hanging loosely around her neck, with a pair of goggles perched on top of her head within the waves of auburn hair.

They were well worn, with a new breathable fabric she had Arceneau create years ago for moisture wicking and breathability. One would be surprised how well the fabrics took, and considering the intense heat of the desert, it made for profit with planets with severe temperatures.

She made a half turn of her body, already moving away. The speeder was finishing getting prepped, and it wouldn’t belong before they would need to depart. Taking her datapad from the clip on her hip, her thumb would skim over it as she delved into reports and manifests.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Alric smiled slightly. "Maybe sometimes I just want a cup of caf."

That wasn't actually true. In his old age he found that he much preferred to drink tea. Maybe because it was a calmer drink, less of a bite to it. Or maybe it simply smelled better. He frowned slightly into his cup, then took his first sip. As always the liquid scalded his tongue, his face contorted and his eyes scrunched shut for a moment as he tried to get over the burning magma that was going down his throat.

Alric shook his head from side to side, then made a loud gasping noise as he put the cup of tea down.

Dear god. Alric thought. The woman is trying to kill me.

Maybe Danger just liked her beverages the temperature of a planets core, Alric had't ever really noticed until he stayed here. He frowned slightly, but then looked up at Danger as she turned. "What are you up to today?"

Things had been odd, distant as of late, at least more so than they had been before. He figured that she simply didn't want to deal with him while he was here, at least not beyond being her usual kind self. Yet there hadn't been that same odd smile, the look of confidence and enjoyment. Alric missed that look.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

The garbled choked gasp was what caught her attention, lifting her gaze from her datapad just in time to catch the grimace that would curl his tongue with a wince. That said it had to do more with temperature than actual taste. He could have simply asked for it to not be scalding temperature, but he had yet to do so.

Both of her brows rose, watching him draw the cup of tea away from his mouth as if it was a live snake.

“If you don’t want it you can just toss it,” she told him, if his reasoning was that he prefered caf. No sense in wasting time making tea if he wasn’t feeling it. Granted, in hindsight, she could have just simply left it at a more tolerable temperature.

She ambled along, taking another sip of her caf, enjoying the sweet taste of it as the formally bitter brew washed down to her gullet.

“Got some rounds to do and things to check on.” she’d say, not really delving into the rhyme or reason. “I take it you’ll be heading to Byblos soon?” came her own question, considering that she figured there had to be some meetings that required his personal attendance.

It wasn’t as if she was deliberately avoiding saying where she was going, just that it was at least a three day gig out to the ISD and back. Being alone with Alric back in the desert was not her current idea of fond galavanting. Nor was she ready to. The desert had a way of making one’s mind dwell and think in the black of the night and in the baking heat of the day.

Thinking was not a high priority on her list right now.

One step forward and then two steps back. Danger knew that it dealt more with her own demons than anything else really. Although that wasn’t to say her ire had not waned with the situation Alric had put her in. It put things in perspective. While she didn’t want him to wallow in his misery, she realized she couldn’t and wouldn’t put herself in a position again to be a safety net. She’d been extending herself beyond her comfort zone and that late night confessional gave her a sense of awareness she hadn’t before.

So she would make sure she kept her distance, much like she always had. Alric would get to stand on his own two feet soon enough, see the reasoning of getting his own place, and eventually get tired of trying to play push her buttons staying here in No Man’s Land. It wasn’t a cut off as much as realizing that she had no place to take an active role in his life.

That was the mental excuse, but as always, it went deeper than that.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"].

He frowned slightly. That voice, the tone that she spoke to him in. It reminded him of the past, of things that had happened years ago. It was absent of both Honey and Venom, it didn't hold the same inflections or small sparks. It was as if he was listening to a recording instead of talking to a person. His fingers played gently around the rim of the teacup, his thumb scraping away from of the condensation on the side of the smooth porcelain.

Blue eyes looked at Danger, eyeing her up and down.

She should have been angry, or over it by now. Instead she was cold. Was it another strategy to get him out, was she simply fed up with him? His lips thinned and his head made the barest of motions, as though he was shaking his head but only for himself.

It felt like something else, something more. When it came to his friend he had learned to trust his gut. More than once doing so had lead him into dangerD), but generally it had helped them both, at least in the end. His eyes fell towards the cup of tea, watching as his thumb twisted in slow, almost symmetrical circles. Alric didn't know what was wrong, and that felt wrong.

"Danger." Alric said quietly.

Had they ever talked? Had they ever spoken? Really spoken? He could recall a thousand memories, a hundred conversations, a dozen times in the past that Alric had spoke to Danger about his problems, about what was happening with him. Yet she had always sealed her lips.

He frowned slightly and shook his head.

"No." Answered the former Titan. "I think I'm sticking around until you get back."

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Well that will be three days from now, she mused as she gave a nod. The low timbre or his voice would prompt another glance from her, drawing emerald eyes to latch on his perturbed expression.

Right.

The corner of her mouth perked,"Reckon you'll sweat out those five kilos you've gained by then," came her tease, along with a half chuckle. Turning back to her datapad, her steady walk continued, crossing the threshold of the wide dung colored blast doors that lead out to the open courtyard ahead. There wasn't much wind, but what little there was would pick up a few grains on sand. It was a large compound, with pour stone fixtures scattered inside the the mix of natural defense line of the cliffs and reinforced pourstone walls.

Flynn would be up ahead, ever one to ensure that her speeder had what she needed for going out into the desert. Water, rations, bedroll, a handful of weapons did a long necked sniper rifle custom made for her. A small tent and three days supply of everything else was tucked neatly in a duffel bag attached to the end.

"Flynn can take you where you need to, " she said, more referencing Mos Eisley than anything else. Said Flynn merely stood stoic, with a face just as wrinkled as a prune and one could say just as ruddy tanned under the wide brim hat he wore. Age had done nothing to change his disposition nor his terseness.

"I'll won't be too long. "

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric didn't answer, he simply waved goodbye as Danger left.

He passed a few words to Flynn, little more than pleasantries really, more wasn't needed. Alric wasn't much in the mood for conversation, he wasn't much in the mood for anything at all really. There was an air that clung to him now, an odd thought that had come with his small realization. The former Titan held a frown on his face as he wandered back towards his small cubicle. He cut through the stronghold in no time at all, wandering past waving hands and smiling faces.

There was no recognition in his eyes, not even to the people he had come to be friends with here. It wasn't that he was angry or even upset, he was simply lost in thought. Most thought nothing of it, simply figuring that he was in a bad mood.

Eventually he found himself sitting at his desk, his arms lay on the heavy wood and his back was stiff against the chair. There was a frown on his face, a small pen being balanced on his fingers. There was a wondering, a thought, a crawling back of memories. Slowly Alric dredged up conversations, talks, anything at all related to Danger within his mind. From the bottom drawer of his desk he pulled out notebook, a plain white paged notebook bound in metal spiraling rings.

Slowly he opened it, and then he began to write.

That's where Danger would find him if she looked. Tucked within a notebook, scribbling away on his third pen. There were stacks around him now, more than a dozen of notebooks. They were of different styles, of different makes, but they had all been empty only a short while ago. Now they were filled, every page, every side, black ink. Some of it was smudged, but all of it was still legible.

The cup of tea that Danger had brought him three days before still sat there.

It held the same amount of liquid that it had when she left. There was no waste or sign of food, no drinks, nothing. There was no sign of a break to what he had done and the blackish blue rims beneath his eyes showed that Alric had barely slept in the three days that Danger had been gone. This had been his mission, his quest, and as he scribbled away within the last of his notebooks, it was clear that he was coming to a close.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Danger's shadow did not fall upon Alric's desk, nor did her voice drift in hello. The hours Alric wrote went well past dusk, the scratch of his pen fading into the hum of generators nearby. Night came, and along with it the usual switch of crews as one clocked in and another clocked out. The three moons of Tatooine hung low to the ground against the sky, with the haze of dust and sand giving them a tinge of red that dubbed them blood moons. They say that the desert spirits rise from the very earth along with the mists during such nights, each wandering to claim the souls of those they could. Tusken Raiders have a belief that sacrifices must be made to sate these spirits, offering blood sacrifices to the demons for their own protection and well being.

All things most folk took to be spacer tales, but held a level of truth to those native on Tatooine. The Wastes were dangerous, and even natives were subject to disappearing a time or two into the dune seas or at the mercy of the Sand People. Even Danger knew the risks, but she was native born and bred. With a hand quick to draw, and ample knowledge of that desert, she was on top of her game at surviving what manner of ill will befell her. Over twenty years ago, [member="Alric Kuhn"] learned that bit of information first hand. It was there that he'd dove head foolishly in the desert due to ire and come out barely alive were it not for Danger's help.

Funny, how that all started back then. Maybe that was the irony in life. Cyclic in nature, to test us when already strained to breaking.

Or in this case, not a single hide nor hair in sight of Danger Arceneau.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

It was on the morning of the fourth day that he finished. Sixteen notebooks. Sixteen notebooks, hundreds of pages, and nearly half a dozen pages. Alric had filled them all, every square inch with writing. As he finished his pen fell to the last page, ending half way up the flimsy. He frowned slightly, opening and closing his hand as though it was stuck in a certain position. Four days of writing, four days and he was finally done, his suspicion confirmed.

His head shook from side to side, and his eyes wandered over towards the clock.

11:32.

Alric cocked his head to the side, looking at the date and realizing that four days had passed, not three. His lips thinned and he looked towards the cold cup of tea. Danger should have been back by now, she should have brought tea. No matter how angry or what she was feeling towards him, that was one thing she wouldn't have ignored. Alric frowned, then slowly rolled away from the desk, standing and stretching slowly. His hand pulled over his face, and slowly he headed out the warehouse.

The heat hit him almost immediately, blistering his skin and stabbing pinpricks into every inch of him. He shook, though not because he was cold. Slowly he made his way through the fortress, this time he noticed the waves, the greetings, though no smiling faces. Alric frowned, heading towards the one man that could tell him what was going on. "Flynn!"

He called out, his voice not authoritative, but searching.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

Flynn's broad shouldered form stood beside a flat holo-array, with the map of the Western Dune Sea, Jundland Wastes, and the Wound up in display. He was surrounded by five other individuals; three of which were in full Tusken Raider gear. They stood silent as the grave, hands held out in front of them with their Gaffi stick in their grip, the tube like googles that stuck out along with their breathing tubes a startling familiarity to the former Titan.

Danger had good relations with one of the tribes, a tidbit of information he'd know from his initial arrival to the stronghold years ago, and one he'd have to come to terms with as part of the security around the compound. It was their tribe that had given Danger's daddy knowledge of the Aspha mold, and they were the ones who had continued their interaction throught August Arceneau's daughter, Danger.

If a stoic nature was expected of Flynn, Alric wouldn't get anything different, save the underlying sense of tension and growing apprehension that would linger around the six.

Flynn didn't give a greeting, he was a man of few words. His acknowledgement of the call of his name was a lift of his head, a furrowed frown, then a return to the map as the Raider to his right continued on in their native tongue.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric felt a creeping unease around the Tusken's, though he kept his face straight and his back stiff.

There was no hint of indignation or anger at the lack of Flynn's lack of greeting, he had come to know the man somewhat and there was no point in getting upset. He was too old for that anyway. Instead he waited for the the man to finish speaking. The Tusken's language always sounded guttural, broken and cut in a way that made Alric shiver. The former Titan would never get used to it, no matter how much time he spent here on Tatooine.

The Tetan didn't disrupt the little meeting, being rude would only be counterproductive. This still wasn't his home, it wasn't his place.

Eventually the gargling grunts ceased, and Flynn turned his head towards Alric. "Where is she?"

Again his tone wasn't demanding, it was more of a matter of fact. Three days meant three days. Alric may have spent all that time with his nose buried and his hand scribbling, but even he could tell that something was wrong.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Flynn was thin of lips and his expression rather fierce. He gave a nod to the Raiders, who then gave a few more guttural replies. It was then that an object would be seen laying at the far right corner of the holoarray, an article of clothing rust red in color and grimy as the sand at their feet. The faint glint of a polarized goggle was barely visible,

The other two men shot out, one sticking both fingers into his mouth to let out a high pitched whistle. It cut through the compound with an impressive pitch, catching the attention of the nearby guards out by the far end wall.

Flynn's watery blue eyes turned to fix upon [member="Alric Kuhn"]'s own, and with a single terse sentence, conveyed what the ongoing ruckus and state of alarm was making the compound come to life.

"Scoutin' party found her speeder a day's ride out." Flynn's weathered hand reached down to grab his hat. There was purpose to it, and only emphasized by the way he brought his hat up to perch it on his head, as if getting ready for battle. He took the ragged fabric from the table. A closer inspection would show it wasn't red due to dye. That was dried blood.

"Boss wasn't in it."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Alric gently grasped the piece of cloth from Flynn's hand. He rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the blood that had been soaked into it. His lips thinned, his eyes shut, and a silent curse passed his lips. It was blood. There was no question to it, and he well remembered the fabric he was clutching as having been part of the outfit Danger had been wearing when she left. His hand clutched into a tight fist.

He hated this world.

He truly, with all his heart, hated this force forsaken planet.

"Any sign?" Alric asked quietly. The question was vague, but Flynn was experienced and knowledgeable enough that he would give Alric the most pertinent and worthwhile answer. Whether that was if there was a sign of who, or where, or what, Alric trusted that Flynn would answer properly.

In the back of his own mind Alric was already plotting out what he himself would have to do, what this meant, and what exactly he would go through to get his friend back.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Ain't the Raiders," he'd tell Alric, already starting a brisk walk. The Tetan had the choice to follow or not, but Flynn had a searching party to round up. "Signs ain't there; she left a handful for the buzzards. Chut'ka said bandits."

His purposeful walk would direct down towards the right side of the compound, following the curve of the pourstone wall that lead to a smaller set of blast doors. Flanking it stood two Tuskens on guard, and the blood stains on their bandaged gear said they'd seen a recent skirmish.

"Got a live one." his lips pursed, and the blast doors slid open to reveal a darkened room -- along with a delirious moan. Eyes would adjust to show two more Tuskens at the far wall, with a small bed in between them. There, laying on the cot was the writhing body of a Rodian, his green skin several shades paler due to blood loss and his leather skin peeling in a ravaged sunburn. So the blood wasn't the Tusken's at all. Difference was, the Rodian was clearly half delirious with heat stroke and blood loss.

Flynn's face etched itself into a deep grimace.

"Get their camp, we find the boss."

One hopes.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Good, on both counts.

Tuskens would have sent Alric into a rage, one that likely would have ended in a bad way. Bandits however, bandits he could deal with. His lips thinned however, and his eyes fell on the Rodian. His hand tightened around the cloth still in his hand, his grip turning knuckles white. Flynn came to a stop, and Alric beside him. They both stood a few paces away from the Rodian and the two Tuskens, Alric was now too focused on the man in the middle to even notice his nightmares standing there.

He remembered a similar situation he had been in with Kiran, or rather one that he had observed Kiran undertake. When the Sons of Titan were still under his control they had often conducted interrogations. Kiran had been good with them, and despite himself Alric had seen more than his fare share, mostly because he had needed to be there.

The former Titan shifted, then looked the other man in the eye. "Bring him to the warehouse."

Alric Kuhn had never been a violent man. Sure he had, in his youth, participated in underground fights, been known to rage, and even had people killed, but no one had ever considered him to be violent. Yet there was something within everyone, something that was brought out when worse came to worst, and one was pressed into a corner.

Every man had a darkside after all.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Deep in Jundland Wastes


Consciousness came in degrees.

Her ribs hurt, and there was a tightness to her arms that spoke of bad circulation. They were pulled behind her back, cuffed at the wrists. She had a few broken fingers, definitely a few broken ribs, and a purple blossom on her left cheekbone where a fist connected at knocking her out. Her shoulder lit like fire at a subtle movement, dried blood cracking as her saturated shirt shifted.

They got her good there. Right on her firing arm too. The wound was raw and she still had the slug buried in the flesh. Pain, however, was a focus. A way for her to brush the cobwebs from her head and figure out where the gorram hell she was. Shoulder burning, Danger gave a grimace, but she took a mental inventory.

Well, she was clothed. Mild relief, but just one thing checked off. She lay on her side on cold, hard, and rocky ground. It was dark, was it night? No. Her ears strained. The air was cooler than normal, a lack of a breeze, the slight echo of murmurs in the distance.

She was in a cave.

But what day was it? What time? Her lips would purse and she could taste the metallic tang of blood. She mentally cursed herself. Stupid, gorram idiot. She should have known to expect an ambush along Mushroom valley. It had been too quiet. Too still. They were on top of her before she could make a getaway.

Got a handful to regret their decision, but she ain't as young as she once was. Crack shot she may be, but even she couldn't outlast a group over a dozen. Now she was here, and she had to consider her options.

A grim realization made her choices small, but clear.

For the first time in a while, Danger considered her situation. She was born and bred here, she knew the risks Tatooine had. She knew what could happen in the Wastes. It was just part of daily life. She was prepared for death.

Difference was, the sad acknowledgement that her life could possibly extinguish a the sum of her experiences.

Alone.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

It didn't take long for Flynn to comply with Alric's request. perhaps it was the look in his eye, perhaps it was the way he stood or sounded, it didn't matter, but in a few minutes time the Rodian had been put inside of the warehouse. He had been given water, drenched in it in fact, placed in the shade and allowed to acclimate to the different temperature.

Some may have questioned that.

A Sith might have dug into this mans mind, A Jedi might have persuaded him to talk, a Wookiee would have torn off a limb, and Kiran likely would have simply suggested the Rodian tell him what he wanted. Alric Kuhn would do none of these things, he couldn't. It would have been easier, unquestioningly so, but he was not a Sith, he was not a Jedi and he was certainly not a Wookiee. All he could do was what came naturally to him, and in that dark pit, that abyss that he now swam in, it came all too easily.

Slowly he wandered into the warehouse, his footsteps rang out within the echoes of the massive building, his form was barely lit, and his silhouette seemed to creep over towards the Rodian. It was impossible to say what the delirious alien saw, but by the terror in his eyes Alric guessed it was some sort of nightmare.

The Former Titan stood over the man, his lips turning down into a scowl.

"Hello." His voice was calm, eerily so. "My name is Alric Kuhn. You took my best friend."

It didn't take long, perhaps an hour or less, but Alric walked out of that warehouse.

Blood stained his knuckles, his white shirt was colored with splashes of bright red, and the scowl on his face told of a journey through the deepest pits of morality. A piece of flimsy was stuck between his index and thumb. On one side was a scribbling of black, on the other were clear numerical digits in a precise sequence, it too had splashes of red, pressed by fingerprints. The former Titan scowled, then slowly wandered over towards where Flynn stood, surrounded by armed men.

"She's there." He stuck out the piece of flimsy Flynn, offering him the coordinates of the bandit base. "Five minutes. We go."

Perhaps he shouldn't have been calling the shots, perhaps Flynn would be insulted, but there was no way Alric would let his friend die. There was no way he would let Danger be alone. It didn't matter what this planet threw at him, it didn't matter what happened, Alric would save his friend. His scowl deepened as he turned and wandered towards his ship, still nestled within the fortress.

He'd come prepared this time.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Danger might be feeling every one of her years, but that didn't mean she was one to lay down and give up.

No there was still a lot of fight left in her, and in that she required that she take stock of her situation and think of how she could get herself out of this. Yeah, chances were high on death and low on living, but it didn't mean this was the end of the line.

Two hours or so had passed, she couldn't quite tell time in the semi light area she was in without the sky as a reference point. One had come to check on her, but she had pretended to still be unconscious. There was the low murmur of a language; basic mixed with Huttesse. Not surprised there. Her lips drew to a thin line. Was this the cause of one of the Hutts? If so which one? And what were their orders?

They hadn't killed her outright, so either they knew who she was or discovered who she was after. The lack of her cowl and her neck gaiter pretty much made her very recognizable face visible, despite the growing blossom of purple on her cheek.

Were they going to ransom her? Or what else?

Every second was spent trying to narrow down on as much information as she could, using the pain of her slugshot and the stinging prickling of her growing numb arms to be a focus.

They had started with about fourteen..... she took down five. That left nine if there was no one else...

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"]

Five minutes, that was what he had said.

It took him three.

Alric returned to Flynn's side with no little amount of hardware. He truly had prepared for Tatooine. Last time he had come here it had been in a shirt and shorts, the time before that it had been in a suit. This time he had brought another suit, though it was far more suited to the task. It was combat armor, the kind that someone would wear into battle. Originally it had been designed for long term infiltration missions. The Suit had Thermal Gel, temperature regulators, and even a water recycler for long term outings.

Yes. It recycled fluids. The suit had been meant for Saeva Incorporated soldiers. They would drop in behind enemy lines, spend weeks causing havoc, and then the main invasion force would arrive. When Alric left for Tatooine he had appropriated one in case he needed it. It was a note on how much he distrusted this world.

"Lets go." His voice was modulated, the armor shifting slightly as he moved to the front what could only be described as a raiding party.

The ship they were taking was a small one, a gunship designed by some company or other. Alric didn't particularly care in that moment, he pulled the blaster from his thigh and checked it over at an almost expert level. When he had told Danger he had got some training, he hadn't been lying. The last twenty years of his life Alric had not been idle. He was no soldier, but he could do this.

Slowly, the ship lifted from within the fortress. "How long?"

"Fifteen minutes."

The location was about a days ride out via speeder, but the gunship had the benefit of being spaceworthy. The ship would press into high orbit, make a large arch, then drop back down onto the planet towards the location they had been given. It was simple and fast, they needed fast. Alric nodded to the man that had spoken, then reached above himself to grab onto the loop above him. I'm coming, Danger.