Ace stared at the wallet in his hand like Judah had just shoved a thermal detonator into his palm.
"What--?"
But Judah wasn't listening. He was already standing. Already walking toward Dro with his hands raised like this was some back-alley negotiation and not a maniac with a flamethrower. The Force spiked so violently in Ace's chest he almost doubled over.
Dro's attention snapped to Judah like a starving nexu spotting an easy kill. Ace didn't move to stop Judah, not yet, a plan was already stirring in the young man's crafty mind.
Because Dro? His attention was now locked on Judah, on his sacrifice play. Ace could
feel Dro's disappointment through the Force at how 'easy' this was. But Judah, he was buying time by unintentionally distracting the Zabrak.
However, if Ace moved, Dro's attention would be back on him. On all of them. So he stayed exactly where he was, crouched behind the rusted compressor, body locked in place, breath shallow, heart a slow controlled thump.
Dro's boots clanged closer on the catwalk. Perfect.
Ace whispered to Orvuk
"Eyes on the flamethrower."
The Noghri could take it or leave it, Ace wasn't about to dictate how a seasoned warrior handled a threat. But he'd seen enough hunts to know that giving the right person the right half second often meant survival.
Ace lowered his gaze, letting the world narrow into the thrum of metal beneath his palm. He didn't look up. The Force wove into the floor grating, thin threads mapping the tension in every bolt, every pipe, every trembling seam around them.
Meanwhile, Dro stomped another step closer, the walkway shaking under his weight. The flamethrower angled, emitter whining as it built pressure. It was enough.
Ace didn't move his hand. Didn't shift a finger. He simply focused a precise, invisible twist through the Force aimed not at Dro, but at the corroded fuel line above him. A bolt already strained by heat. Already weakened by age.
Then he nudged, creating a small metallic snap so tiny it vanished under the sound of Dro's footsteps.
The effect though? It wasn't small. Not in the slightest. A hiss of vapor sprayed sideways from the line, drifting down in a faint, shimmering mist. It went straight toward the flamethrower's intake vents. Fuel mist, coolant remnants, pressure imbalance. The perfect mix for a half-second malfunction.
The flamethrower inhaled the drifting vapor, and choked. Dro's aim faltered and Ace didn't waste the opening. With a sharp pull of the Force, he snatched Judah backward, sliding him behind cover and out of the kill-zone. Dro's head snapped toward the motion, fury rising.
"Run. Both of you. No more sacrifice plays!" His voice was low, urgent, leaving no space for debate.
Ace surged up from the compressor and slammed a focused Force assisted shockwave into the Zabrak's chest. The blast hurled Dro down the catwalk and into a bank of pipes, metal shrieking under the impact.
He didn't look to see him recover, he simply followed the others toward the turbolifts.
Judah Dashiell