Private Worth A Shot

[Inanna Harth]

A word of advice: don’t do to others what has been done to you. It’s too obvious.

Miri had instantly pulled back after delivering the headbutt, trying to place distance between them—though there wasn’t much distance to be had on the narrow tree root. Hands gripped her flight suit and tugged her forward, only to be met with her raised knee aimed to collide with his groin well before his head could make contact with hers.

Unfortunately, doing so meant she lost her balance. Whether she succeeded in rendering Mr. Perl incapable of having children or not, Miri was going down, and if her opponent didn’t let go of her in time, they were both getting an unwanted hot mud bath.

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Both thighs snapped inward, catching the knee just an inch short of the impact zone. Lips parted to flash an unfettered white grin beneath red and streaming crimson. Gotcha. She fell, he held on, he remained. Wobbling branch caught between the arch and heel of his boot, he lingered, supernaturally adhered to the branch. His grip was the only thing keeping her out of the mud.

Lightning. The sinkmud-sparing grip was now the the means from which volts assaulted the Jedi's vulnerable frame. Zaavik wasn't skilled enough to muster a lethal voltage, but enough to make a subject likely believe it would be. Lethality wasn't on the menu just yet, anyhow.

"Don't lump me in with them," he demanded, sending droplets of blood off his lips. Lightning ceased. "You'd already be dead if I was what you thought I am, kid."

The grip released.

"Do you wanna talk this over, or do you wanna drown?"

 

[Inanna Harth]

Miri was lucky, sort of. The mud was thick enough that she didn’t sink immediately, or else she probably would have drowned. The lightning had sapped her strength, leaving her barely able to move. Barely even conscious.

The mud was jarringly cold for such a humid swamp. She could hear Mr. Perl talking somewhere above her, but didn’t respond. The smell of smoke from the burning trees around them was thickening. Or was that the smell of her own ionized flesh?

“Drowning in mud is a horrible way to die,” she tried to say, though she wasn’t sure how coherent she sounded. “I don’t want to die like this…”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Maybe he underestimated how much was too much. Reducing her to hardly-coherent muttering wasn't what he'd intended. Figuring out how much lighting to pump into someone for the desired effect must have been a learned skill. Zaavik sighed with frustration. The amount of fight suddenly taken out of her would have been jarring were his jading much duller. So determined only moments ago. Pitiful now.

"Get ahold of yourself!" he shouted from the branch. Droplets showered from his lips onto the mud. One insistent swipe of his sleeve cleared most of it away. No one but herself was going to snap her out of it. "Drownin' ain't a good way to go," he asserted, having not understood her utterances.

Leave her.

Hesitation was palpable before he shouted anything else. "We talkin' or are you gonna let yourself die?"

She'll rat you out. Let her die like a rat.

Shut up.

 

[Inanna Harth]

He either couldn’t hear her, or was cruelly mocking her. She wasn’t sure which.

She tried to reach out with her arms, but there was nothing to grab onto. Only cold mud, in which she was slowly sinking. The Force would have helped her, but she’d have to have enough cognition left to formulate a plan, tell the cosmic web to do this or that to aid herself.

“I can’t,” she said, and that at least sounded clear to her own ears. She couldn’t seem to get enough air. More than anything else, the smoke was getting to her, causing a dark haze to cloud over her vision. She was slipping into unconsciousness.

“I can’t… I need…”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Damn. Damn. Damn.

Internal conflict intensified to a roil beneath the heat of wildfire. The Jedi was a threat. Knew too much, and was likely to say too much. Zaavik had dispatched several similar threats already. For his own sake, for her sake. None of them were erased with a method so callous as drowning in mud. Anyone would pick swift beheading or saber to the heart over drowning.

Could he let somone, practically a kid by comparison to himself, drown? Even if she was the enemy, it felt wrong. So, so wrong. Every time he resolved to let it happen, he couldn't. Every time he decided not to, something tried to convince him. Zaavik emitted a guttural noise of exasperation. It carried, evolved into foreign cursing and lamentation.

A metal arm penetrated the surface of the mud, locked a grip across the fabric of the flight suit. Zaavik was crouched low, strafing in three-limb simian traversal across the root. One bad shift snapped it, sent him down into the mud. One hand remained on the root, kept his upper half above the muck. Laborious writhing, and swimming eventually, slowly, painfully, and onerously forced them to stable soil.

Zaavik dragged the Jedi by the back of their flight suit's collar. Breath heavy, rhythmic, broken up by fits of coughing as he trudged through smoke. Several kilometers on the treadspeeder, Miri draped half-conscious over one end, brought them out of the flame's immediate influence. Dragging her down from the speeder, Zaavik placed Miri sitting upright against a tree-trunk.

Smoke was still billowing on the horizion. Zaavik took several moments to catch his breath. He paced, trying to figure out what came next. Kill her anyway? Negotiate?

Trouble was neck-deep.

 

[Inanna Harth]

She honestly thought she was a goner. Even when she felt a hand gripping her flightsuit, she thought the Sith (or whatever he called himself) was trying to speed up her drowning, pushing her under. Would it be easier to accept death if she just let herself slip into unconsciousness?…

She came to a short time later. Swampland sped past her in a blur. She was riding on the back of a speeder, alive. Weak and disoriented, but alive and out of the mud.

The speeder slowed to a stop. Hands grabbed her and hauled her off the back of the speeder. Miri started to squirm, but something kept her from actually fighting him or trying anything. Complete and utter confusion, for one, and a strong sense that she had to be smarter and more careful about this if she was going to survive, let alone escape.

He plopped her on the ground with her back supported against a tree trunk as if she were an infant being placed in a high chair by someone who never wanted kids in the first place. Not so rough that it was violent, but carelessly and with some degree of resentment.

She watched him pace, dark eyes following his movements. What was he doing? Debating whether to kill her or not? What would he do if he decided to let her live? Let her go?

Yes. He’d already offered it before she tried to pull a fast one on him. He could drop her off, and then move on. She might tell people she had seen him, fought him… been rescued by him… but it wouldn’t matter. He’d be long gone, hiding somewhere else.

But that was far more complicated and difficult than simply killing her here and now. Killing her would solve all his problems immediately.

Chewing her lip, she tasted dirt and spat. The mud had reached up to her chin before he pulled her out. When she spoke, it was in a tiny, tremulous voice.

“Is letting me live still an option?”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Good question."

Zaavik's pacing ceased with his back to Miri, looking out from their hilltop vantage point. Begrimed jacket lay draped over the back of the treadspeeder. Sleeveless undershirt hardly in better shape, exposed arms marred by weblike, conflagrative cicatrices. They spread all over, fingers to shoulders, like a grotesque canvas. Troubled confliction had rendered his aversion to leaving them visible obsolete.

Clouds had begun to fill the sky with a smoggy gray. He hoped for rain, lest his mistake grow so large it smokes him out of his hiding place. Mud-tarnished metal digits disappeared within a drypack mounted on the side of the treadspeeder. Zaavik liberated a heavy rag, tossed it sidelong into Miri's face with an unsettling accuracy for someone not even looking.

"I hope you understand that none of this is personal," he began. Hint of remorse. "It's self-preservation." He spoke like he'd decided to kill her after all. Yet, he'd just shown her a miniscule kindness with the fabric he'd donated. Not that it makes up for nearly electrocuting someone to death. Though, he wasn't trying to, not really. The Jedi could probably sense his confliction. He knew it, and was doing his best to keep it concealed.
Zaavik turned, glancing at her searchingly, looking for some notion of a tell. Did she know?

"Why couldn't you have just played along?"

 

[Inanna Harth]

The rag struck Miri straight in the face, making her flinch before dropping into her lap. She picked it up gingerly, examining the cloth, then reached into her flightsuit pocket and produced... a compact mirror, untouched by dirt. Using it as a guide, she wiped off the mud on her face and neck. The sight was almost funny for its sheer absurdity, even if her hands were shaking and her face was as white as a sheet.

"I hope you understand that none of this is personal. It's self-preservation."

She glared at him, lowering the mirror and the rag. Both her hands, thus preoccupied, lay limp in her lap.

"Why couldn't you have just played along?"

“Would you have just played along, if you were the Jedi who found a fugitive Sith?” She sighed, and the intensity of her glare faltered, exhaustion depleting her ability to be truly angry.

“I was planning on stealing your ship, leaving you stranded here, and then bringing the Jedi to arrest you. At the very least, you would have survived—I knew I couldn’t defeat you, but I could at least try to escape your grasp.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “That is assuming the NJO would even give me the time of day, let alone believe the daughter of the man who exposed their war crimes...”

She paused, her brow furrowing as she sensed some underlying connection. But the lead was vague, and she was too tired to chase it. Leaning her head back against the tree trunk, she sighed again, closing her eyes. “Please, Mr. Perl. If you’re going to kill me, do it quickly and painlessly. Don’t leave me dangling like this.” She swallowed. “Just… find a way to let my family know what happened to me, okay?”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

Clench teeth ground together like stone. "I. Am not. A Sith," he reiterated with a deliberate, emphasized rhythm. Slow, as if to make the claim as clear as possible. A look shot towards Miri, golden eyes betraying his rejection of her Sith notion. "I'm not-" Zaavik glowered. "I'm not a Jedi anymore, but I've fought and killed enough Sith to know the difference." As well as became intimately familiar with one, as of late.

Prosthetic fingers wrapped around the hilt of his saber, steadying it as it hung from the belt coupling. "Pretty shitty plan," he mocked with an oddly crestfallen timbre. "You could be the Dark Lord of the Sith and they'd give you the time of day if you had information about me." Exaggeration? Only slightly. With all the grief he'd cause the New Jedi, Strategic Intelligence, and the Alliance, getting their hands around his neck was an opportunity they'd likely already paid loads for the possibility of seizing.

Zaavik's nosed crinkled, head tilted back to give Miri a distant fish-eye as he stood over her. "Just like that? You'd really lay down and die for nothing? Even after I've spared you once already?" He scoffed, shifting his weight to one leg. Scowl became a stony frown, only the slightest inflection of feeling.

"I don't get it."

 

[Inanna Harth]

“Fine. Dark Jedi.” She waggled her fingers in a mock imitation of his Force Lightning, only to hear “I’m not a Jedi anymore”. What was she supposed to call him, then? Pink Lightning? Scary Eyes? Swamp Thing? Public Enemy? Just Zaavik Perl? “Fine, Mr. Perl.”

What an incredibly frustrating final conversation this was, if he did wind up killing her.

Without bothering to open her eyes, she muttered, “Not to sound like I’m complimenting your spooky dark power, but that lightning of yours packs quite the punch. Sure, maybe I’d go for another round with you, if I didn’t feel like my muscles were melting.” Her words were slurring again. “If you’re not going to kill me, then please go away.”

He could strand her there, for all she cared at that moment. She only wanted to sleep.

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

"Dark Jedi? What's-"

"If you’re not going to kill me, then please go away.”

"Go away!?" Perturbation resonated clear in his rose voice. Zaavik kicked the bottom of her boot to shake her back into consciousness as much as he could. "Wake the hell up, and stop being such a gonk!" Several avian creatures fluttered away from the surrounding canopy as the sounds of his shouting bounced from branch to branch. A puff of air sighed out of his chest.

"I gotta figure out what to do with you. I have questions."

 

[Inanna Harth]

She jolted at the kick, her eyes flying open at around the same time the birds took flight. As if her eyebrows couldn’t get any more slanted, they sank down and together as her expression darkened like a storm cloud.

“What did you just call me?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. It was almost intimidating, but she was too young and soft to really pull it off. She looked like what she was: a scared girl hiding behind a mask of haughtiness in the face of danger, all while she did her best to manipulate the situation so that he wouldn't kill her.

“Considering how rude you’re being, I don’t see why I should answer any questions,” she replied. “You wouldn’t answer mine. But I won’t stoop to your level. Ask."

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

“What did you just call me?”

"A Gonk," he reiterated flatly. "An idiot," he clarified.

“Considering how rude you’re being, I don’t see why I should answer any questions. You wouldn’t answer mine. But I won’t stoop to your level. Ask."

"Because you're not in a position to be asking. That... and I don't have an answer. Yet. That's why I have questions." Zaavik crossed his arms, mirroring Miri's body language in a way that would almost seem mocking. In reality, it was entirely his own mannerism. A few moments of hesitation passed, Zaavik staring down from where he stood over her. He glowered, brow furrowing with intent.

"Who else knows you're in this sector? Why were you in this sector?"

 

[Inanna Harth]

The first question was an easy yes or no, yet she hesitated. The truth was no one knew she was there. She had taken off without telling anyone, leaving behind a note of absence on Kashyyyk, but that was it.

If Mr. Perl was concerned that someone would come looking, he was wrong. And that meant he could kill her and stay in his hiding place without fear of discovery.

“No,” she answered at last. “Nobody knows where I am.”

Her response to the second question came without any reluctance. “Like I said, I’m looking for my father. He… had to leave. Go into hiding.

“He angered a terrorist group. The Silver Jedi put him in charge of arresting their leader, and he failed and it got personal. They started sending assassin droids, and he had to keep moving to evade them, and it just got ridiculous, and—“ She cut herself off to keep from babbling. “He wanted me to stay with my mother, but she doesn’t want me around. My stepmother’s not much better. So I’m trying to find him so I can be with him.” She took a deep breath. “That’s all.”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

A simple yes or no was what he wanted. Instead, Zaavik was subjected to far more detail than he cared for. Time wasn't abundant, but thankfully she made herself brief just before he could have a conniption over it. A contemplative, throaty hum came when he confirmed the absence of deception. At least, no deception that he could sense or visually pick up on. Miri being an excellent liar wasn't off the table, but somehow he doubted it of a Jedi. Then again, that's where he learned to do it himself.

Skepticism was force in his expression, more as a precaution than anything genuine. Nimdok started to really ring a bell when she told the story, though. There had to be something to it, he figured. Good enough for now. "And if I let you go," he began warily. "You're gonna tell the first person who will listen about me, aren't you?" All things considered, Zaavik had a feeling her already knew the answer to that.

 

[Inanna Harth]

The irony of her present predicament was no longer lost on Miri. Telling the story of how her father was being hunted put Mr. Perl's situation in a new perspective, one that made her rather uncomfortable. But it wasn't the same. Her father hadn't murdered someone in cold blood, hadn't fallen to the Dark Side, and he certainly wouldn't ever go so far as to kill the daughter of the terrorist leader he had angered. Even if... she had been foolish enough to try and pick a fight with him.

Miri glared at Mr. Perl, unwilling to admit out loud that she had made a mistake. "Even if I said I wouldn't, I could be lying," she said. "So whether I say I will or won't tell, it doesn't matter."

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

The frown looked genuine. Not that she'd taken Zaavik as sincere to begin with. At his side, a hand rested on the pommel of his saber as it hung from his belt coupler. "Why are you so unwilling to advocate for yourself?" he asked, a sudden glimmer of empathy through conflicted considerations.

"Are you just resigning yourself to it?"

 

[Inanna Harth]

“Obviously not.” Her glare went soft despite itself, and her voice broke a little. “But I’m clearly too stupid to live. All I would’ve needed to do was not say anything, pretend I didn’t know who you were, and none of this would have happened.”

She was the sort of person who needed things to go according to plan. When things went wrong, especially if it was her own fault, she would trip over her own feet rather than adapt and overcome. She didn’t know where to start picking up the pieces of this mess.

“What is it you expect me to do? Attack you, so you can kill me without feeling bad about it? Do you want me to keep acting haughty and superior so you can at least enjoy cutting me down?” She set her jaw. “I’m not going to give you the pleasure.”

Zaavik Perl​

 

[Zaavik Perl]

That, in fact, had been his hope, that she'd either catch on and pretend or simply be unable identify him. Too stupid to live felt unfair despite their adversarial positions. The way she assumed he would enjoy her hypothetical murder felt unfair too, but he doubted she'd see it his way. She was convinced he was an absolute evil by virtue of having stepped to a different side of the duality. It wasn't so long ago that he had the same black and white view of it all.

"I've never enjoyed killing anyone. I'm not gonna start with a child." Genuine offense coupled with a defensive firmness resonated in his tone. She was showing a defiance that was starting to feel oddly familiar, as were several other aspect of this particular Young Jedi. He knew why, but wouldn't let himself wholly assemble the thought. It was already steering his actions whether he liked it or not.

Could he bring himself to erase the threat she posed? Could he kill someone so young? He couldn't take her word for anything, so letting her go was a risk. Then again, staying here was never meant to be permanent. She could rat, and he'd be long gone. His presence here would surely be a lead, but nothing he couldn't slip away from.

A begrudging sigh hissed out of a tense expression. Zaavik walked back to the treadspeeder and pulled something out of the drypack. He returned with a large, rectangular device in his hand. An underhanded toss gingerly sent it over to her. A distress receiver. "Find a high place. If you're lucky someone will pick up the signal and come for you."

Leaving it to chance. He wasn't going to kill her, but he wasn't going to save her, either.