Scorpion

Fight or flight… It always came down to that. Survival was bent on the fulcrum of someone’s will. There was resistance. Resistance was inevitable. But the body balanced as best it could. Fluids and electronic signals were messengers to alert the body of danger and seize or push one way or the other. Signals also deemed whether a threat was insignificant and whether impulse or instinct could be ignored. But when it came down to it, organic beings were puppets to their emotional and mental stimuli. Some were able to restrain their instincts better than others, but once a choice was made, there was no going back. Especially not now; especially when she had absolutely nothing to lose. Her mind was drowned in a mire of terror, death, muck, pain, regret, and rage. Her Zeltron empathy was over saturated and overwhelmed until everything was so present that all she could hear or feel was a dissociative cocktail of everything mashed together. As much as she wanted to continue writing it all off; as much as she just wanted to ignore it; she could no longer discard the chaotic energies that surged through her. Her body was sympathetic to the mire she was drowning in and responded in kind. It suffused her with every adrenal chemical it had to muster. And where her body lacked, the force compensated. There was little thought left toward anything other than one foot in front of the other. Her heart accelerated, her breaths were shallow and her entire body felt like it was going to explode. She was a force of will made flesh. Dots of liquid stung the corners of her eyes as the power within her threatened to break a body that wasn’t suited to it. But while her talents had no chance of culling or articulating the overwhelming power bursting through her flesh and plowing her forward, the Sith’s attempt at stopping her was touching hot magma with bare hands. The force of the pull evaporated against the nova of emotion that rushed onward. The charging beast of pure instinct knew little of the matador that tried to halt its advance and kept huffing as it rolled past. The droid however, who sought a more direct strategy, bore down on her as she shot through the cave, hoping to cut through her with a vicious strike. It's angle was precise and it's attack lethal. But even after the droid's blades bit through her long coat, her leather shoulder holsters, her kevlar shirt, and finally the flesh of her back, her feet did not stop. Her flight could not be deterred. Vibrations gave the droid’s claws an advantage when cutting through solid objects. But just as they were easy to cut in, they were easy to rip out, leaving the droid a pause that Sara did not share. Fresh blood rolled fast and hot against her cold back and reflected a deeper red via the droid's macabre optics. But she did not stop. She couldn't stop. Her top layers left in tatters behind her and splotches of blood spilling to the cavern floor, Sara shot further than the others and abruptly pushed over the lip of a large pit in the cavern floor. There was no preamble. There was no pause. Her mission was complete and her impulses were sated. The wounds finally caught up to her as she fell through the void, light saber and gun in hand. Vitality filled her lungs and strangled every breath with a disturbing sound. Her body felt heavier than usual. Her eyelids drooped and she let go of sensation as she flew deeper than she knew. Her last thoughts were of freedom as she flew toward whatever maw awaited her at the bottom with the speed of a comet flying through space. She died on her own terms. And when her body came into contact with whatever awaited her at the bottom, she was met with merciful silence. [[ Killshot submit ]]

Refuse oozed from her thrashed mo hawk, leaving an acrid trail across the crimson skin of her face, and fell to the building pool of brittle cold at her feet. Harsh needles stung outward from joints that were crudely popped into place. The pool of ice-cold water bursting from the cavern walls continued to rise, sapping sensation from her skin. But she could feel rallying strength building throughout her body. A stubborn avatar of Sara’s strong-willed persona brought flame to her rapidly chilling shell. There may have been a stronger explanation. It may have been her desperate feelings made manifest. Or it could have been the strength of her denial beating down the doom that threatened to consume her. But Sara hadn’t the presence of mind to pick out where this elusive strength had come from, nor did she particularly care. Sara’s eyes glowed with an amber fire. Her hands pulsed with restrained fury. And though she didn’t have the slightest clue how to use the saber clutched - pink-knuckled - in her clammy grip, visions of metal slag ran through her mind while her eyes lingered on the deceptive automaton and his crusty green alien friend. “One, you’re full of druk. Two, you’re full of druk. Three, you’re full of druk! And four, you’re full of fekkin’ druk! How about I don’t give either of you anything. I have the saber and I have a gun. You need me about as much as I need you.” Sara said, eyes leveled at Nok with a careful eye at Xar. “I’m supposed to believe you’d help me? Not only are the Sith likely to try and escape from this collapsing tunnel, but they wouldn’t believe you even if you tried. I threatened them. Even if the threat was empty, they’re not likely to forget. I’m not that stupid!” Sara bellowed. But you’re slightly stupid? What part of this situation makes you think we’re smart? Fair point. “And you!” Sara continued, her flaming golden eyes turning on the droid poised to strike. “You think you’re so much better than all of us, right?! Then why did you even get into this situation? You have the same weaknesses as the humans that made you!” Sara snarled. “That’s right! Lesser beings were needed to create a being that eventually fell into the same traps they would've. Oh no, the superior being is doing something dumb. Well, let me help heal your ego!” Sara’s muscles seized with invisible strength. Before the droid could move, the Zeltron’s frantic steps took her faster than she thought possible. She knifed right between the two beings before her but made no move to strike either one. The knee-high water groped with futility at her fleeing form. And, using the emerald light of the saber to guide her steps, Sara fought toward the cavern beyond while her heart continued pounding in her ears. Leena.. I'm sorry..

“Zeltron! It is good that you are still functioning.” Liar... The monstrosity’s tinny warble woke Sara from her mental internment. She sat strewn about the ragged cave as icy cold saltwater burned her still open wound. Pain screamed with abandon in her tired mind and threatened to consume her, but every stubborn instinct she had screamed in equal measure back into the terrible void. Her thermal had only succeeded in causing a bigger cave-in and more water to crash into the tunnels, cementing the fact that she was likely going to die here. But she wasn’t going to take death lying down. Sara winced as she violently wrenched her joints back into place and hissed audibly as she hauled herself to her feet, scowling at Xar all the while. She wasn’t sure when the saber hilt got into her hand, nor when her remaining slug-thrower made it into her other hand. But her golden eyes bored into the dim red of the droid’s optics. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Sara yelled. A noticeable incidental surge of anger swept outward through the force with every loud syllable, crashing into the darkness that she felt approaching, and the darkness that sat quietly belching malice through a gaping maw not far from where she stood. In this cave of madness and pain, she had had just about enough of everything. The snap hiss of the saber was inaudible over the powerful crashing in her head. And though her gun hand was shaking, she could feel as her callused fingers pulled back the hammer. “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF THESE GORRAM CAVES! Now! I’m not going to say it again.” Sara briefly sputtered, expelling seawater caught in her mouth. “STEP OFF!” The Zeltron held the saber’s blade at a lethal angle between her and Xar and stared him down with manic chaos in her amber gaze.

Sara’s mind was like a Nar Shaddaa sky-way; thoughts screamed past her perception before she could hold on. Impulses pounded against her with little care for which one took root. Still, in a flash of clarity before the crash of arms, Sara’s adrenaline fueled awareness illuminated fragments of a familiar voice echoing through the cavern passage. It was the Nemoidian. She couldn’t place who he was talking to, but the raspy lilt to his cocky posturing was unmistakable "My...name... Nok Morliss-iss. I'm… Sith-th" Kriff, Leena was right! But she couldn’t do anything about that right now. Anger boiled over regarding the tentacle-faced man that put himself between her and the troopers. She could barely understand his ill-formed attempts at chivalry, but that didn’t stop the metaphorical steam from pouring out of her ears. Inaudibly cursing at him and refusing to move, she instead adjusted the aim of her pistol so she could hit the troopers above his shoulder if need be; at least, where she thought the troopers were. It was a big mass of targets so even a wide shot might catch them. Though, with the firepower they had, the trooper’s shots would tear through both of them regardless of the shield he posed. From the sounds of their footfalls, there were quite a few of them and Sara’s past assured her that: where there were troopers, there were always more troopers. With seconds to live before the Sith unloaded their first volley, a small part of Sara thanked whatever maker deigned to create her in such a tumultuous world with another of her infamous finger-based salutes. Then she clicked the trigger of her slugthrower and hit the button of her thermal det. 5 Before she could see what happened, a red arm snaked out and hit her in the chest, sending her thermal detonator flying toward the troop formation. Her body lifted from the stone and flew cartwheeling with unseen force a good fifteen feet backward just as the tentacle faced man’s barrier braced against a rainbow of gunshots. Where the barrier came from, Sara didn’t know. Nor did she fully comprehend what had just happened. All she knew was that a few of her joints were sprained, a few ribs were broken and her gun was no longer in her hand; neither was the detonator. Good thing I have a spare gun... Priorities Sara... Priorities. 4 Mjan’s technique succeeded in keeping her from gunfire. But the occasional tock! sound of rubble falling was replaced by larger rocks that began to tumble from the ceiling. Apparently the Jedi’s technique had dislodged something. Things were going from bad to worse. And as the chorus of rocks falling from the ceiling surrounded her, Sara internally screamed at her arms to start dragging her further down the tunnel. They were the only extremities that didn’t seem to be damaged from the tumble she took. 3 She had gained some ground but it was slow going and she had no idea if her thermal was going to do anything. All she knew is there was barely anything keeping her from trouble at this point. Every desperate clawing gesture was potentially futile but her stubborn survival instinct would not let her give up. She kept scrabbling forward even as more rocks began to fall all around her. She didn’t know where she was. All she knew is that the troops were in the other direction and that was good enough for her. 2 I hope Leena is safe, wherever she is. And I don’t know if she can hear me, but maybe her force weirdness can reach out. The Sith are here. No one is safe… 1... << Capture Shot Defense >>

Damn you Leena… As the only anchor tethering her to this mission wriggled her way into the inky black, Sara's stomach twisted. The fingers of her right hand tightened so hard that her knuckles were pink against the cold steel cylinder that Leena pressed into them. She swallowed softly, unable to rid herself of the growing lump in her throat, and fought the burning that rose to the edge of her eyes. The hair of her mo-hawk was wet and slick with refuse, pasted to the skin of her head and face with curdled slime. But the murky tableau might as well have been miles away. Smells, sounds, tastes; all of them were silent. Everything was so blindingly present that nothing was. The only thing left was Sara’s persistent internal monologue critiquing her every move, like an entitled Hutt lord with too much to drink; sitting impervious on his dais while everyone groveled at the fringe of his blubber for the sustenance that even a single hand out would give. She wasn’t bitter at all. She let the droid’s suggestion go unanswered, but thought to the cold steel orb resting in her soiled pouch. The sound of voices disturbed her dissociation. Armored feet clamored onto the cavern’s rocky surface and echoed as they marched in step behind the ragtag group. The stocks of carbines and rifles popped against hardened cuirasses and beat a staccato rhythm of doom that charged forward to greet them. A sickly green glow outlined an ominous feeling of dread that loomed before them. Each impending hazard was the facet of a terribly soft gem that began to chip away. The gem’s luster had already been compromised. And with every broken shard, Sara’s mind took one step closer to the cosmic equivalent of bleating curses at the world and watching it all burn down while marching into the inferno with dual salutes to whatever spiritual dirt bag controlled fate and its sadistic sense of humor. Gritting her teeth, Sara clipped the saber hilt to her belt, fished the metal orb from her poop caked belt pouch and grabbed one of her slug throwers with her right hand. She spun on her heel and marched to meet the coming tide of bucket heads with a furious glare plastered across her face. Gun and grenade brandished before her, she kept her fury burning behind the amber gold of her eyes and the pronounced knit of her brow. When there was a passable distance between the tide of armor and the enraged Zeltron, Sara stopped and pulled the hammer of her long gun back with a dramatic click. The steel of her thermal detonator and her primed slug thrower were hard to see in the dark. But she aimed at the sound of their movements and didn't care if she was wrong. “THAT’S ENOUGH!!!” Sara bellowed. “I’M SICK OF THIS FEKKIN’ DRUK!” “We come to this planet to try and help the people. The hospital blows up, the authorities start firing at us, the warehouse we were hiding in blows up, we get covered in refuse chasing an ominous chortle that came from ‘the deep.’ If it's not one thing, IT’S THE OTHER! Sara took a short breath. “Now… Can you put your weapons down and act like this is a real s$%tstorm!? Or do I need to play with the red button on my little friend here and see how many bucket heads I can take out before going down in a hail of gunfire from whoever is left?!” Sara’s eyes were wide and manic. Her pheromones were emitting feelings of fury and rage. But it didn’t mean much when she smelled like the south end of a north bound Dewback. The hand holding the gun was shaking ever so slightly as nerves fought to pervade her surface thoughts. But she was sick of it. This nightmare had to end.

Sara’s eyebrow quirked at the offered re-breather. The cake of sewage on its surface was counter-intuitive considering the device's intended use. But the Zeltron’s re-breather was likely up a few levels where the droid had left it. Welp… it's better than nothing. Sludge spilled across the skin of her cheeks leaving clammy goose-flesh in its wake. The slime pooled at a spot right under her chin before dropping to the floor in messy slops. She could hear the rush of impulses charging through her brain to commandeer her gag reflex. She could feel the surge of chemicals racing up her throat. But she consciously tightened her grip, violently clenched every muscle in her neck, held her breath, shook the re-breather out, then replaced it. It wasn’t much easier but each breath got better as she became accustomed to the acrid bouquet that greeted her with every inhalation. The gas became heavier and heavier as they descended. Darkness was similarly oppressive as it shrouded around them. And though her heightened senses gifted her some advantages, there wasn’t much more to be gained from the limited visibility. In its usual fashion, the droid continued to drone about everyone’s lack of competence like it was its job. Sara began to question the droid’s capability with combat and started to assume its purpose was to make everyone else feel inferior. And if that was the case, it was terrible. Sara felt even more competent with every bleat from the tin-can's mouth. Everyone else was silent, save for Leena. But Sara was used to the guppy’s motor mouth by now and didn’t mind the background noise. A haunting chant pierced audibly through the din but Sara couldn’t decipher it so it was just another addition to the cornucopia of aural chaos that embraced her. When the group approached a narrow bridge and the droid prefaced its passage with a shot at Sara’s intelligence, she followed its retreat with a one-fingered salute and didn’t care whether it saw or not. But before Sara followed the group across the chasm, she heard a disturbing sound; no, not one sound, many sounds. It was hard to make out over the weird chant, but after the others made it across, she could pick the sounds out of the dark. The clacking of plastoid and metal plates hitting each other, and the plopping of boots as they plowed through thick sewage water, echoed through the cavern behind them. Sara’s initial thought was the Mon Calamari authorities, but it could’ve been anyone or anything. More importantly, however, why were those sounds down in the caves and coming this way with speed? Her face tightened under her mask. She flexed her leg muscles and slid across the sliver of land that stood between them, coming to a comfortable stop right behind Leena and her cocky smile. She felt the guppy's arm link through hers and pushed forward faster, hoping to accelerate the group’s march through the lower levels. When they were a safe distance away from the treacherous gap, Sara leaned toward Leena with a hint of worry etched into her face. “Leena, we have company.” Sara eyed the passage behind them and softly yanked the Mon Cal’s arm deeper into the mines.

Nasty, really, really, really, really nast-IS THAT A-no it's just more poop… Yuck! Excrement seeped through the long-coat and onto her body, chilling her and bringing sharp bumps to the surface of her crimson skin. Parts of her back stung where fresh cuts still lingered. And though infection was unlikely, the reminder was not welcome. Still, she and her ragtag compatriots were not in the best position, and waffling between what to do and when to do it was not an effective course right now. Through the overwhelming stench of feces and waste, there was a bouquet of other smells that bit at Sara’s nostrils. The Lethane smell was stronger down here, but it mingled with Methane and Carbon Dioxide. The Carbon Dioxide thread wasn’t flammable and was common on a number of planets. But Lethane and Methane were both notorious for their flammability; Lethane more so than Methane. It was a delicate moment that was covered in terrible outcomes. Isn’t that life though? Sometimes you have to crawl through the druk no matter how awful it is to get to the dim light at the end of the tunnel. Right? What am I, a motivational speaker now? What has this planet done to me? The feelings of fear and disgust were strong near her as Leena retched within arms reach and the bigger squid-faced red alien lamented a fresh emotional wound. Oddly though, between the smells scorching her nostrils and the over-saturation of negative emotions, Sara’s faculties were starting to dissociate from her consciousness, allowing her to inwardly scream while moving and doing more practical things. It was a familiar coping mechanism. Pain was a reality she understood. It was a constant in her life since the earliest point she could remember. Being a refugee, you learn to adapt as best you can, or you die. Sure there are those refugees who feel vengeful and/or spiteful toward the crime lords that take advantage of them and then act on the their vengeance, but those refugees also died more often than not. You play the game, you clean the scrapes, you roll with the punches, and you move on; or you die. Sara scrambled in the sludge, clumsily attempting to right herself. She wasn’t a really good swimmer so she was very thankful that she could feel the bottom of the chamber with her feet. But it was a bitter affirmation. There were things in the slime; things she couldn’t fathom. Of course her subconscious was eager to fill in the gaps with a number of nightmarish creatures - most of them involving tentacles - but she quickly scrambled to push those horrific manifestations to the back of her mind, refusing to acknowledge every disgusting movement she felt beneath the surface of the sludge. She caught the thin light of the droid as it came tumbling down into the waste. And when it moved toward a large crack in the chamber, Sara grabbed at Leena’s slimy figure and attempted to drag the retching Mon Cal with her toward it. The Zeltron drew together what little adrenaline was left and hoped her inherent Zeltron-ness would assist in hauling the taller and heavier alien with her toward the opening. The droid passed by quickly, bleating about the Nemoidian that Sara didn't notice depart. She held little love for the clunky machine but that did put her in a bind. It meant Sara and the others were working with limited dark-vision; she needed to remember exactly where the fissure was. Cautiously, the Zeltron reached the shore of ‘poop lagoon’ as she’d taken to calling it and ran her hands up the wall in front of her until she felt the rough rocky grips that led to the fissure. With a moment of concentration, Sara intensified her pheromone production to help the other two find where she was. Then, with one hand stuck to the wall, she grabbed at the Mon Cal’s soaked robes and helped her the rest of the way onto the shore. “Alright,” Sara started loud enough for Leena and the red-squiddy alien to hear; if he cared. “There is a fissure over here that might lead further down. I can’t promise we’ll immediately come out of the gas or that it will be any better than where we are now. But it likely doesn’t have druk falling from the ceiling or a pool of it covering the floor and that makes it a lot better than here. But… And I can’t stress this enough. DO NOT activate your lightsabers in here. The gases in here are extremely flammable and we’ll all blow up if you do. Just don’t. I know how you Jedi like your sabers, just hold it a bit.” Sara chuckled a little to herself and began climbing the chamber wall. The grips were slipping beneath her fingers, but after a series of strangled grunts she managed to hoist herself into the cavern beyond.

Able-bodied? This droid needed to work on his bedside manner. Sara watched as the Nemoidian, the tentacle-faced-guy, and Leena dropped like lumpy sacks of rabid womp rats into the void. Acclimated as she was to the low illumination in the tunnel, aided by her heightened senses and the bright light streaming from the combat droid’s optical receptors, she could not see them hit bottom. How deep was it? Would she live? Maybe they were dead? Some part of Sara clenched up thinking about that; which was odd. Sara hadn’t once spared more than a passing thought for the lives of others. It wasn’t like she was a sociopath, but her realm of focus rarely extended beyond the self. And although Leena’s incessant running dialogue drove an icy cold stiletto through the center of Sara’s brow, something inside the Zeltron - something alien - was pushing her to keep Leena safe. Wincing at the heap of new putrescence that piled on her sensitive nose and hiding a gag, she turned to the droid with a smarmy grin. “Nope!” She chirped in an enthusiastic sound dripping heavy with sarcasm. Then, with a mocking wave, the Zeltron back stepped and hopped off the edge into the deep black. Warm sludge greeted her body with a liquid glip, followed by a disgusting glop when her dive spread fresh sludge on the bodies that came before her. Welp. I’m finding new clothes after this; or washing with fire...

Sara lifted the delicate glass of her cocktail to her lips. The sand sifted between her toes and the lovely muddled Alderaanian mint was cool and refreshing on her tongue. The sky was bright and blue and there were many entertainments scattered all around her; both visual and visceral. It was a lovely reprieve after that last job. Mon Cal was it? Then there was heat. It was already hot on the beach, but the heat that pushed against her was like a ball of fire trying to rub lint off of her entire body. It was almost suffocating. The sound of coughing picked at her ears. She looked around the beach but saw that no one was coughing. The smell of lethane gas and sewage tickled her nose, turning the sweet mint of her drink into a sour sludge. And feelings of despair and pain twisted the bright sand all around her into a black pit of fetid slime. “Go! Use the force!” Leena’s words awoke Sara’s mind to the discomfort of reality and reminded her that she’d been nothing but a walking ragdoll for the past few minutes. To be honest, she was kind of surprised she’d managed to escape death. Even though she fell to the cold ground - that was harder than it had any right to be - and her body felt like a broken mess that then tried to slowly sew itself back together, she felt inexplicably ‘fine.’ She wasn’t great, she wasn’t good, but she could somehow move and articulate like nothing happened, which left a surreal taste in her mouth. It must have had something to do with that weird stuff Leena did, but Sara’s thoughts were too muddy to decipher what was really going on. The rest of their escape from the warehouse was just a big blur at this point. Out of the fireplace and into the kriffing lava… Seriously, who comes up with this druk!? “I’m sorry” The guppy’s words were quiet. Sara had trouble deciphering Leena’s body language due to the grogginess that continued to grip her weary mind, but was no less confused by what the young Mon Cal said. Sorry? Sorry for what? For bringing me to this planet when it was under quarantine because you wanted to help people? Sara, who was apparently at the back of the group with Leena, looked over her shoulder at the raging inferno that rapidly approached the group. And, whether it was the spike in Dopamine and Oxytocin derived from her fantasy, or the fact that so many crazy things had happened in such a short time, Sara didn’t flinch. She grabbed at a long cylindrical device attached to her hip and threw it down the chamber to the approaching fire. In a bright and violent poof of blue mist, the chamber was consumed with ice and rapidly cooled. The dry powder and anti-oxidizing chemicals from the CryoBan explosive dispersed and attacked the flame, depriving it of fuel and forcing it to dissipate. With no other option, the flames impotently struggled against the barrier and were sucked back up through unknown channels. It all happened very quickly and though Sara knew the grenade would be effective, she didn’t think it would cause the fire to reverse direction. Questions for another time. Two grenades down… one to go. Sara patted one of her leather pouches, where her last grenade was peacefully nestled. Then, after taking a beat to wipe her forehead, she turned back toward the guppy and the rest of the group. “Firstly,” Sara began, fishing (heh!) for a small device in one of her other waist pouches, “here, take this.” The Zeltron tossed a small device at the droid because she was still confused whether or not the Nemoidian could see. “It’s a re-breather I use when working with poison gas. It should help Mr. cough over there.” “Secondly,” Sara turned back to Leena and cocked another small smile, “If I didn’t want to come, I could certainly have taken us to another planet. Don’t waste your time being sorry, it doesn’t help any right now.” Sara took a moment to look around now that the threat of impending flames was not pushing down on the lot of them and found herself at a loss. “And I guess thirdly is, does anybody have any idea which direction we’re headed?”

Sara held her smile for a few lingering moments and almost stumbled backward into the red-skinned tentacle face guy from before that she just realized was standing there. A slight rouge-like color darkened her cheeks for a flash before Sara stuffed the impulse back inside. "You're welcome," Sara replied, letting the awkward silence hang between the three of them like an unpleasant odor. It wasn't that she didn't know what to say, so much as she wondered if she was butting in on what had previously been a private conversation. And while she wasn't adept at social graces, she occasionally respected people's need for privacy. A strong pop in the Zeltron's ear warned the alien of something bad just before a massive wave of chaotic emotion spewed upward from beneath the warehouse. It was so powerful that Sara thought she'd be brought to her knees and imperceptibly prepared her mind in response. But nothing changed. (Ever since the hospital, Sara had been biting her tongue and doing what she could to reign in any potential mental explosions -- After the destructive fallout of a burning building, it seemed important. She began to focus on the ambient emotion around her to drown out spikes in activity.) It was a nice reprieve from her usual lack-of-luck until the actual explosion of air and gas quickly followed and pushed her and the others sprawling into the air. Acting on impulse due to the numbing oversaturation of every other sensory trigger in her mind, Sara grabbed at Leena once more as the two of them tumbled through the air. She used Leena's mass combined with her own to drag them both out of the vent's yawning portal and down to the ground of the office nearby. In the chaos of it all, she could almost make out the evil monologue that echoed around them. As it was, the force of their spin made it sound like: "grphlhgfefeeffsdggfddf…" Which didn't sound like much of anything. Sara twisted with Leena until they both crashed against carpeted durasteel with Leena on top and Sara on bottom. The Zeltron choked out a breath when her back met the metal surface with an unhealthy crack and half-expected to black out, watching her world spin rapidly around her. But her enhanced senses refused to go out. They gave Sara an unnerving amount of clarity regarding every motion and every thought as the pair sailed through the air and crashed on steel in a symphony of pain. Her alien body began to slowly mend itself; fibers sowing together, vertebrae resetting, and ribs clicking back into place at an achingly slow pace. She could feel all of it. It was torturous, like blades dancing in her skull. But she'd get over it. Her brows knit as she made a conscious effort to mitigate the pain that wracked her feverishly chaotic mind. She looked up to Leena and offered a weak attempt at a smile, the corners of her mouth not quite making it all the way to the right spots. "Y-you doing alright there, guppy?" Sara choked out as her trachea recovered from a number of bronchial lacerations. She looked over as the non-quarren tentacle-faced guy jumped down the evil hole in the floor. It didn't take much to assume where they were headed next. But Sara was going to need a moment before jumping down anything, especially an unknown doom hole.

Potential impending vindication aside, Sara realized the idiocy of her comment as the last word left her lips. Even if she was right and the military, the police, the peacekeepers, or whatever force that ruled over this world were coming down on them, what could she do? And how the heck was she going to convince a room full of stressed out people to leave if they were all more invested in their mutual existential and faith-based crises. They didn’t even know who she was. Sara paused, feeling the skin of her right palm slap against the still healing skin of her forehead and winced at the bloom of pain that greeted it. Worse, Sara had no dewbacks in this race. Some of the randos gathered here had been in wars across the galaxy; wars she’d heard of but hadn’t fought in. A couple of them acted superior in ways that reminded her of the Hutts who used to hold sway over Nar Shaddaa. She couldn’t relate to a single person here. And ironically, she could relate to that. It wasn't strange to have no one. For some people, that's the only reality they understand. She felt more than heard Leena’s anger build, watching pain consume the clear yellow pools of her salmon-skinned face; that buzzing optimist from the Luridae drifting miles away like a starship without life support. Like it or not, Sara was the only one she knew here and vice versa. ((Posted with Kail’s permission)) The Cathar heard the young Jedi's words. Putting his lightsaber back on his belt he decided to follow her and wade through the people in front of them. They would speak further once they were outside of all this chaos and no longer surrounded by enemies. Sara groaned lightly under her breath as she trudged back into the warehouse. She cut the distance between her and the Cathar as he walked in the opposite direction. The big kitty from before was so focused on the fleeing Nautolan and the hemming in crowds of refugees around him that he didn’t look down to see the hilt that he strapped back on his belt had disappeared. Sara allowed herself a tiny smirk but was careful not to betray any other emotion before crossing to the office area where Leena had retreated. When she caught up with Leena, Sara carefully rested her right hand atop the young Mon Cal’s left shoulder. Sara could feel the warring emotions in Leena’s biochemistry playing tug of war in her mind, mingled with the tension from the others around her. It was a mess. All of this was a mess. Leena and Sara both expected a simple mission. But everything went to pot quickly. Not to mention, apparently there was some serious emotional baggage here. And Sara lacked almost all capability for words regarding sensitive situations like this. So, instead of just spouting words at her, Sara swung the little guppy around and embraced her. It was a simple gesture and one Sara wished she’d had when she was younger. She knew the power it had and thought, beyond words, it would help console the young fish with whatever was going on. “I can’t claim to know how much pain you’re feeling. And I don’t know much about master-student relationships. But if what you’re feeling is anything like losing a parent, then I think I can understand.” Sara said softly, her face resting only an inch or two away from Leena’s ears. She slipped Leena’s master’s saber hilt into her hand, careful that the blade part was pointed away from both of them. “But we can’t help anyone like this. I know you might not be able to trust me. And I don’t blame you. I’m hard to trust. But we can’t help anyone with anger. And separating like this is only going to make all of us more vulnerable. My fault, your fault, their fault; it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do right now, together.” Sara continued. A few small salty streaks ran down Sara’s cheek as the Mon Cal’s anger pierced her right temple. From this proximity it was hard to ignore. But Sara didn’t care. Something about this moment felt right in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Take all the time you need little guppy. I won’t abandon you, okay?” Sara said, continuing the embrace until Leena turned her away.

Sara was kind of at a loss for what to do at this point. She wasn’t a Jedi (but she could feel something spiritual and whatever that was, she’d get to it later) she wasn’t a peacekeeper, and she wasn’t in any position to force or pose a moral high ground here, considering everything else that was going on. Sara knew very little about the people around her and could only gather that everyone was reaching very real -- and potentially meaningful -- psychological milestones in this conversation. It might be sentimental to her if she felt invested in anyone’s story other than Leena or her own. But as it was, despite her racially involuntary emotional involvement, the tense back-and-forth drew Sara’s attention to literally anything and everything else in the warehouse. Which, unfortunately, illuminated a series of extremely unfortunate devices that she did NOT catch when she first came in. The Zeltron, still feeling the tug of fatigue drawing at her adrenaline deprived muscles, shifted her gaze to fill the warehouse and took stock of the refugees; most of them were not native Mon Cal or Quarren. She hazily sifted through her memories of the last few hours and a small feeling of panic began to crawl knives from the base of her spine, bringing stress fueled energy back to the weary fibers of her muscles. She didn’t think it would accomplish much, but the Zeltron approached the group carefully with her arms open wide exposing no weapons and indicating no aggression. Though her motions and expression were laced with a small amount of suppressed anxiety. “He-e-y-y, I feel like we’ve gotten to a good point in this conversation, but I think the big kitty is talking a lot of sense. We really should leave now.” Sara softly chided, throwing a meaningful look at Leena and directing her face toward the cameras. “A majority of us just walked or ran away from a burning hospital. We’re all offworlders. And although some of us may have the best intentions, they are blowing children out of the sky for violating quarantine. Can we pretend that these Dac natives are working with a lot of sense right now? Probably not. And if you were -- hypothetically speaking -- a higher up official responsible for enforcing rules on this planet and you saw a warehouse filled with offworlders; some of whom may potentially be responsible for destroying said hospital. Would you act rationally? Or would you act… Let’s just sayy-y explosively? Fiery? Vaporiz-y? If that’s even a word?” All the while Sara was saying this she too was edging toward the front of the warehouse and inadvertently joining Ro and Nia in their exit.

Sara was reticent to admit what might have happened. She wasn't sure. But what she thought happened directly implicated her or Leena as the source of this mess.; or at least the hospital exploding mess. As an empath, Sara could already feel the emotions of the world around her. But what Leena did unlocked another part of her that amplified her empathic abilities immeasurably and caused a massive feedback wave of energy. That was her working theory at least. But Sara couldn't say that. Yes she was wanted by the police, and yes this may not actually come down on Sara due to the whole thing being some freakishly and unfortunately timed accident. But something about Leena poked at her; the cheery-overly optimistic Mon Cal was now staring panic, anxiety, and trauma in the face; doing whatever she could to hold it together. It was a feeling that Sara couldn't really describe. But she didn't want to throw all of that on her right now. A look of consternation flitted across the surface of Sara's face for a brief moment before a lumbering Cathar interjected and interposed himself between the Nautolan, the flight suit guy, and Leena. Too shocked to interject herself, Sara waited while the big kitty squawked, thinking about the security forces and how they might be reacting to her theft. Don't they have quarantining to worry about... Wait, didn't we all just break quarantine?

Sara’s approach was meant to be subtle; mixed with a small army of various refugees, she was going to slip in unnoticed and wait out the local's response to her speeder-theft. There was even a small part of her that hoped they would eventually give up the search. But a good portion of the herd she was following came to an abrupt stop near the big loading door at the front of the warehouse. She couldn’t tell why from first glance due to said refugees piling in front of the warehouse door. Part of her even contemplated trying another warehouse. But when she ambled through a portion of the amassed flesh before her, she saw an individual carrying an exotic light-saber-staff-thing? He seemed to be blocking entry. She couldn’t tell whether or not he was a Mon Cal, especially from this distance. But in that flight suit he was clearly not with the planetary authorities. If said authorities came by they’d be more distracted by the saber wielder than anyone hiding in any back corners. And considering the impending consequences of her hasty actions, she wasn’t about to wait for the hammer to fall. Sara plowed her way to the front of the pack, using elbows and forearms to bar everyone from coming into direct contact with her and then waltzed through a side passage with only a rude finger-based gesture to mark her passing. She even noticed the gunner in the scaffolding; not by her body, but by the tension she felt. While navigating her way to the back portion of the warehouse, she loosely picked up the confrontation between a small feminine sounding person and what she presumed to be the man from before. She couldn’t tell, nor did she care. Sara was prepared for retaliation. But she was honestly not in the mood and didn't have the strength right now to deal with it. If they were going to shoot her then they were going to shoot her. There wasn’t anything she could really do about it. At least it’d make my migraine go away. _____________________________________________ Sara watched through a half-lidded gaze as others came into the warehouse, evidently making it past the justifiably yet insufferably suspicious flight suit guy from before. She thought she could see a few recognizable characters, yet did not get up to greet them. The less she interacted with strangers, the better it would be to get out of here and back to space. She was getting kind of itchy not being at the yoke of the Luridae. When she could feel her last eyelid close and her mind start to numb, a large lump of metal came up to bleat at her and some other figure next to her, abruptly demanding that they both follow him. Sara grunted at him non-committally in her dubious haze of fatigue. She had half a mind to reach into her coat and palm her slug-thrower in a very physical 'shove-off' gesture, though subsequently decided against it. Best not to make a scene Sara; no more than you already have anyway. Forced to acknowledge the real world, Sara cleared the groggy creases in her eyes. She finally saw Leena -- who was making her way with purpose toward the front door -- at the other end of the warehouse and realized that the ‘other figure’ receiving demands from the droid was the Nemoidian from the hospital. Small world, eh? The Nemoidian got up almost immediately to follow the droid, but Sara was focused more on the little guppy. She rolled to a standing position and walked through shambling bodies to get as close to Leena as she could. When Leena's hand reached out and a teal blade emerged, Sara took a few pointed steps back toward the edge of the refugees to get to a safe distance. From here, Sara could see the man from before and what may have been the owner of that feminine voice arguing. And it seemed like Leena was helping; or trying to. From the edge of the crowd, her back against the durasteel walls, she looked toward Leena, “Hey guppy, you hanging in there?” Sara asked, something akin to concern or worry hidden in the clear exhaustion of her facial expression.

Well… Kriff The grinding of broken glass beneath her knee-high boots joined the growing din of panic that started to swell all around her. Sara’s head throbbed dully to the tune but was mercifully void of its previous dysfunction. The explosive decompression of her pent up emotional baggage continued to echo through her body as she stood poised for action at one of the clinic’s four way intersections. But her emotions -- shockingly -- were placated and back to their usual haze. The presence that Leena’s overt gesture of assistance brought out, sat quietly at the back of Sara’s mind, pushing down on her head like a bag that was gradually filling with sand; quiet and brooding but swelling with each passing moment. Sara’s amber gaze surveyed the chaos that pulsed outward from the center of her feet with grim indifference. The orderlies that were discarded on the floor didn’t stir from their unconsciousness and deciphering the sensory bouquet that surrounded her, she realized that the disastrous outward expression of her internal chaos was starting to have other effects. Amid the disjointedness that followed her ‘tantrum,’ Sara’s ears caught the sound of shoes shuffling against steel coming from somewhere close. Sara gripped the synthetic black handles of her slug throwers with instinctual ease and dexterously flipped them to point directly at the unknown figure scuffing its way down the hall. It stopped about a foot away and almost directly at the end of the barrels of Sara’s long-barreled handguns. Sara was trained enough not to let her impulses guide her trigger fingers; even though dark whispers played a discordant kloo horn in her mind. It was a large green humanoid; hard to tell if it was Nemoidian or Duros in the low red light of the Clinic’s emergency lighting. But that wasn’t surprising. She could vaguely remember seeing a Nemoidion or some kriff earlier when she was pushed away with a mysterious droid. What was odd was the precise distance the man placed between them. He wore a blindfold, yet his face was pointed directly at hers. He held no cane nor any exterior guides to give the illusion that he relied on any other form of prosthetic. It was odd. She recalled rumors of a race of blindfolded people that could see through the force. And though this wasn’t what the rumors mentioned -- seeing as how this man was green and stood a foot taller than her -- she was surprised at the amount of awareness that an apparent blind man had in such a dire situation. And if her hackles weren’t already on high alert, she might have given him the benefit of the doubt. But this was a different story. “Is someone there? I heard a noise. Is everyone all right?” “You know I’m here. If you didn’t, you would have barreled right on past me or started to grab at things to get your bearings. As far as everyone in the vicinity, no. No one is currently ‘alright,’ as you so quaintly put it.” Sara hissed through half-gritted teeth, maintaining her lethal posture. Before the man could respond, a series of rapid-fire events took place like a revolving door of crazy. Leena came barreling through the halls like a clumsy tornado carrying the worry of all who lamented in the clinic with her. She seemed to sense Sara’s pain and wanted to help. And though Sara considered the prospect for a moment, the dangers of losing herself in euphoria only to tumble straight back into this pained existence would do a great deal more harm than good. So she waved off the guppy’s attempts at soothing her, recoiled when Leena pushed her at the blind man, and watched as the guppy scuttled away only mildly processing the warning she gave before she scurried off again. Then, just as she came by and exited, a large Cathar bustled in behind her and echoed her warnings. In the midst of all the comings and goings, Scorpion’s nose tingled. A hissing noise filtered through the corridor and rose quickly to the top of her priorities. It was almost sweet. The smell tickled the cilia of Sara’s nose. It wasn’t immediately familiar, but it was leaking from housing units in the walls that were attached to respirators. Hissing, sparking, and a stampede of bod- “Everyone. Please follow the red looking lady to the nearest exit immediately! No one tramples her or you will never make it out and you all will die! Orderly fashion and respectful distance and she will protect you and lead you to safety!” Oh you kriffing moron... Sara, uncomfortably familiar with how close she was to the Nemoidian, distanced herself from him as hundreds of sick fish started to flail uncontrollably toward where they thought the exits were. They were galvanized by fear. And it was odd that she wasn’t doubled over in pain. Maybe the overwhelming number had pushed her so far past sensation that she was oddly numb. Anyway; muse later, escape from the doomed building now. Sara raised her gun in the air and released a shot into the solid durasteel ceiling making a horrible concussive sound that echoed through the hall. For a small moment, there was no sound save the hissing of gas. The Mon Cal stopped moving and looked at her almost more afraid of the gun than the tragedy that waited for them. “The exits are there!” Sara said, pointing at the north and east ends of the clinic. “This hospital is going to explode. Get out while you can.” The hoards of people rushed for the front and east doors like a swarm, fighting each other for leverage over their neighbor. But Sara didn’t move; not right away anyway. First, she let the hoard rush for the exits while she walked over to an empty gurney. Second, she tested the gurney for durability and wheeled it slightly. Third, she grabbed three moderately sized surgical steel trays and strapped one to her right arm and one to her left arm using medical tape and straps. Last, she positioned herself in front of the series of doors to the back loading dock. It was kind of a slap job, but it would do what she wanted. With a couple of shots, the doors to the back loading dock were locked open just in time for the raging inferno to rush through the halls, pushing anything and everything forward. To give a small incentive, Sara left a present a few meters behind her and used the bed straps to hold on for dear life. With a huge grin that she didn’t deserve, she hunkered down and braced the bedpans, letting the wildfire and the concussive boost shoot her through the hall and out the back of the clinic. The wild gurney plowed through meandering hospital staff and unlucky patients that didn’t quite get that whole ‘the hospital is going to explode memo’ but the bed hurtled forward with ferocious speed. It was almost impossible to maintain the bed’s maneuverability, but with what little she could, she controlled the direction with a shift in weight and let physics do the rest. The bedpans got extremely hot. Her face started to burn up. She knew she’d need a new coat after this. But the smile never left her face. It was all worth it to ride a hospital gurney out into the streets of Dac with fire and explosives at her tail. The gurney, ragged and ruined, squeaked itself to the middle of the loading dock, narrowly avoiding a large vehicle and small vehicle parked side by side. Whoof! That was a thing. Sara plopped to the ground and rolled around, beating the flames out of her mohawk and trying to roll the fire out of her coat. Worth it! She started to strip the bed pans off her body and take stock of her remaining equipment. As she did, she glanced toward the clinic with adrenaline filled eyes. It wasn’t really the appropriate context to greet a burning hospital. But nothing could be done. It was slag and that meant that hundreds of sick people weren't going to make it. Nothing doing. I hope those guppies listened. Sparing one last look at the burning building, Sara eyed the hospital’s courier speeder. _________________________________ I don’t owe these people anything I don’t owe these people anything I don’t owe these people anything Sara murmured the mantra under her breath as she positioned the hospital’s courier speeder closer to the starport. She could see the Luridae from where she sat, but a big sign made her stomach sink. !!!NO SHIPS LEAVE DURING QUARANTINE. THOROUGH SCANS WILL BE ISSUED AND WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BLOW YOU OUT OF THE SKY!!! Now what am I going to do? Kriff. This was just supposed to be a simple job. Why did things have to be so complicated? Sara activated her comm device. She tried - in vain - to get a bead on where Leena had gone, considering she was the only one Sara really ‘knew’ on this planet. But when she was tuning the frequency, she caught an interesting signal. Refining it, it was clear that Sara’s methods were not as hidden by the panic as she thought. >>// Looking for a red skinned humanoid female recorded on clinic surveillance just before the explosion. She stole valuable clinic property and is to be arrested for theft.//<< Welp. Looks like it's time to get scarce. There were no sirens yet, which was a good sign. But Sara wasn’t about to stick around. According to the med techs she overheard an hour or two ago there was a warehouse district nearby. It was used for all kinds of storage. People wouldn’t look for a stolen medical vehicle there… would they? She didn’t stall long enough to debate. She sparked the ignition once more and throttled the speeder, veering off toward the warehouse district to ditch the evidence and hopefully find a way to get out of this mess. _______________________________ When she got to the warehouse district, she could see where a lot of the desperate patients had gone. They ran in droves toward empty warehouses or medical warehouses potentially in a misguided attempt to hoard medical supplies. Sara didn’t pay them any mind. She idled the speeder alongside a crowd, parked it parallel to another building and hopped out. Then, despite her better judgement, she blended with a crowd of refugees as they filtered into the warehouse district.

The pain piercing a point between her ears stifled any resistance she could conjure to Leena’s seemingly emphatic need to care for her. But Sara’s eyes opened wide and her cobalt black eyebrows bent toward the bridge of her nose; a subtle indication of how she truly felt. Leena’s hands felt cold and moist against Sara’s warm skin. Her big fishy eyes were a little off-putting at this range but Sara tried not to think about it. She let Leena help her because she had nothing else. But she didn’t really know what this fish cou-- Through the cold suckered dermis of Leena’s careful hands, electricity spun the fibers of Sara’s skin. The back of her neck bloomed to life as thousands of soft needles crawled from the base of her skull down to the base of her spine. Slowly -- almost impossibly so -- the turmoils of the hospital, her own anxiety, and several hundred miserable voices, were silenced. A billowing array of clouds replaced her prickly animosity and cushioned her thoughts in blissful peace. It was surreal. Sara had touched something similar at a time so long ago she couldn’t recall, but this was far beyond her understanding. She felt detached from… everything. It was serene and utterly addictive. Had she been anywhere else, she would have lost to the warmth and surrendered. But misery loves company. An orderly’s abruptly timed arm slammed against Sara’s delicious haze, interrupting her visceral denial and directing her toward the back receiving area with a droid that she didn’t even notice was there before. Dr. Zeltron? These people were really desperate... With each foot gained on cold steel, she could feel the distance growing. The depth of her gaze distorted and the fluorescent lights above her got brighter and brighter until they hurt her eyes. She desperately wanted to keep the fluffy clouds billowing around the edge of her mind. But Leena’s touch was gone. She needed to move. The corridor grew even more unwelcoming. A chorus of coughs, wheezes, and gut-wrenching gurgling sounds echoed from rooms and chambers as they passed. The smell of druk and urine mixed heavy with sanitary alcohol. It was an acrid reality that grew step by step. And although Sara was holding vital medical supplies, she felt as if she were a piece of furniture, much like the droid ambling about beside her. Still, she had her orders. Orders? Who even are you anymore? The tingly expression of Leena’s overzealous need to help clung for dear life at the foundation of Sara’s spine. And when she crossed the last threshold to the loading dock at the back of the clinic, Sara’s consciousness broke apart. The euphoric clouds vanished, retreating from their protective silence, replaced not by the hundreds of pained voices from before, but by an entire planet filled with pain. Millions of anxiety riddled thoughts and emotions fought down Sara’s exposed consciousness causing her knees to buckle and slam to the cold durasteel beneath her. Bacta patches and the like went scattering across the floor and her hands shot to catch her from falling all the way to the cold sterilized steel. Her head was a freshly worn acid burn. The pain of a planet in jeopardy sung songs of madness. And though her kind were trained to deal with emotional turmoil, her spirit and mind were not prepared for this kind of surge. Like a pilot light from ages past, the light that Leena ignited would not so easily burn out. Sara gripped at her head to try and contain the explosive sensation which pushed her the rest of the way toward the ground. Chloric streams of sapphire poured from her eyes and ran tracks down her cheeks. Her lungs contracted wildly and she curled in on herself to try and stifle the sensations before they could overwhelm her. The nurses and orderlies nearby heard Sara’s plaintive cries and rushed to assuage her. They crowded her and began to grab at her, to try and get her out of the way. Sara felt them. Their flabby arms pushing and dragging, trying to control her, trying to manipulate her. Who did they think they were? What were they to her? With one blow to the neck they would die. With a few trained motions their bodies would litter this sterile hallway. Their blood would line the floor and their viscera would decorate it like a grim museum. How dare they touch her! They had no right! “GET OFF OF ME!” Sara screamed, her amber yellow eyes glowing faintly. A powerfully chaotic nova of despair coruscated from Sara’s body, shocking the hospital staff and climbing higher still. The fluorescent lights in the hallway glowed so brightly that they exploded with violent force, littering the halls with glass and chemicals. When the nova reached the junction box and compromised the electrical veins of the hospital's vital systems, it sputtered briefly and then popped, sending the clinic into darkness and turning off the machines keeping hundreds of innocents alive. It took a moment for a dull red light to replace the bright fluorescence and the backup generators to compensate. But the damage was done. The orderlies and nurses that attempted to grab Sara were unconscious and burned on the ground. And while Sara’s hands and parts of her face were slightly abrased, she was mostly unscathed. Her consciousness was rife with chaos. Whispers of darkness fought to the surface of her mind but now that a lot of her emotional buildup had released, it was easier to maintain. Either that, or a lot of the despair that she felt was now silenced. Regardless, she didn’t care. She fought fatigue until she stood at the clinic's intersection and readied herself for what came next. This was going to get bad really fast. They deserve-Aaaaand you're done.

After sussing out whether the guppy was a threat, Sara spent the next few hours of travel in silence. Bored, the Zeltron mercenary side-eyed the guppy as she squirmed against her restraints in apparent excitement, despite what waited for them. You don’t order or ask for supplies of any kind because you have a surplus. That’s something that Sara learned very quickly. That meant that Dac had a shortage. And that meant there was a reason; Sara suspected the reason was not a pleasant one. But she had a history of unpleasant surprises so that wasn’t anything new. Sara didn’t really do ‘happy.’ And because of her own struggles showing positive emotion, Sara was amazed by the amount of positive energy buzzing from the little fish. It was almost endearing; almost--and only for about five minutes. But after an hour, it was clear that the guppy ran on bubbles and wore her passion on the sleeves of her robe like a naive activist on some kind of wild stimulant. For a time the Zeltron even wondered whether or not the girl had an off switch somewhere. It was a pleasant reprieve from the silent void of space and the oppressive sting of negative emotions that Sara was accustomed to, but it wore thin quickly. By the time they arrived, there was a shallow indent of the ship’s steering yoke on her forehead. Sara silently cheered for the conclusion of their trip but wore a mask of indifference that was betrayed only by the indent that still stood out on her red skin. When no stevedores - droid or otherwise came to assist them - Sara’s brow furrowed. Instinctively, her right hand slipped beneath her coat and tightened over the grip of her slug-thrower. The air of the dock was thick with silence. It was a nice change that the army of miscellany that assaulted her at every port of call was gone, but something was very clearly up. But the guppy was moving. So if she was moving, Sara needed to move. Sara helped her load the sled, but her amber eyes never left the empty spaceport. This does not bode well… __________________________ As they rounded the corner toward the clinic, a swarm of angry hornets began to sting the underside of Sara’s scalp, causing her to wince and almost drop her side of the sled. Pfassk. Whoever thought it was nice to make all Zeltron’s empathetic needed a good boot upside their goofy head. She’d struggled through worse, but every step toward the clinic poked the hornets, turning up their aggression until they hit well beyond a reasonable cap, which kept her occupied. And while Sara could physically see where they were both going, she felt detached from everything. She completely missed the guppy writing both of them off as Jedi. And she almost missed being handed a case of bacta and some hygienic protective equipment. “I’m better at making wounds… actually.” Sara said, groggily, her head filled with icy sorrow, fiery pain, spiky anger, acrid envy, and a wickedly explosive gray stew of other emotions all at the same time.”But I might be able to make something work. I’m getting paid right?” Sara winced. She contemplated the amassed victims and thanked whatever deity that would deign to bless her that she had an amazing immune system. But this was a disaster. How could they possibly make a dent? Sara… What did you get yourself into?

The striated tapestry of piercing white and blue came violently to a halt, allowing the tableau of planetary bodies that decorated the big black obsidian to resume their silent watch. Sara clicked a few switches on the right half of her control panel and listened to the familiar hiss of contingent systems that compensated for the hyper drive as the ship came to a slow drift on the edge of Calamari space. The Luridae took a bow-ward shift and instinctively Sara’s right hand grabbed the yoke, arresting the ship’s momentum. She took a moment to listen to the distress signal in its entirety, now that it was accompanied by a comm message, and scanned the horizon with her amber eyes, looking for any sign of ambush or pirates moving in to take advantage of what could potentially be a big payday; or… a big pain in the butt. When she spotted the source of the signal, she let out a small sigh. It appeared to be a standard medical freighter. It also appeared to be in working condition, which was a big red flag. Sara reached over to initiate a diagnostics report using her ship’s sensor suite. It wasn’t a surefire way to suss out what was wrong, but it would give her a basic idea. And, from the readout, it looked like the freighter was perfectly fine. But it was completely out of fuel. “Huh. Looks like someone didn’t plan properly. Or it could still be a trap,” Sara mused aloud to herself while keeping a steady watch on her weapon systems. She leaned the yoke forward and watched as the Luridae edged closer, warming to the hum of her baby’s thrusters. Then she carefully adjusted the yaw to match the other ship’s docking port with the clamps on her freighter’s starboard side and initiated the docking sequence all the while keeping her eyes on a swivel and listening for her proximity sensors. Once on the other side, there would be no turning back. But never let it be said she didn’t try to be aware of her surroundings. Once the docking procedure was initiated, Sara sauntered to the starboard port of her freighter on the wings of yet another thundering grumble from her stomach. I really wish I wasn’t doing this on an empty stomach, but it is what it is. Sara checked herself briefly, making sure her weapons were fastened and her gear was in order. She listened for the clunk and hiss of the decompression and then took a ready stance with her slug-throwers at the door. Her fingers hovered over the triggers just as the doors opened and she took one step forward as she heard a squeak from the other side. Quick on her feet, Sara swung her guns toward the unknown assailant. But it wasn’t what she thought. A small Mon Cal looked up at her with a mixture of unknown emotions written across her fishy face. And although Sara was prepared for the worst, she honestly had no idea what to make of this. A lance of fear and uncertainty worked into the area above the Zeltron’s left temple while she stood and looked at the little girl. It was clear Sara’s presence - while expected - was not what the little girl expected. Sara eased her slug-throwers into her holsters one at a time and held her hands out toward the Mon Cal in the hopes of communicating a peaceful message and removing the lance of fear lodged in the side of her head that was quickly building to a very painful headache. “Hey, hey hey… It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” Sara grunted, recalling the message she listened to and looking around the unknown ship and spotting a few unopened ration packets nearby. Her stomach lurched almost immediately at the sight of food, but Sara kept her edge. She took stock of her exits one more time before relaxing her stance and coming once again to stare at the frightened little fish. "Alright lil guppy, I'm going to be brutally honest with you. I was almost hoping this was a trap so I could raid you for money and supplies. But seeing as how you transmitted a distress signal, you likely don't have a lot of money. I mean the medical supplies would fetch a pretty good price, but despite what you might be thinking right now, I'm not THAT heartless." Sara said with an even tone. Even though she could tell the gist of what people were thinking, she wasn’t super adept at talking them down in a crisis. “Huh. Well, I was really hoping you weren’t a pirate. I mean wouldn’t it be better, feel better I mean, to help all the sick people down on Dac?” Sara blinked for a moment. It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought of how all this must look from the other side. It was kind of odd. Scorpion did raid empty freighters from time to time because there were a lot of bills to pay to stay in the air. But she was not - strictly speaking - a pirate. However, standing here in her dirty clothes, with her days old smell, and two slug-throwers poised to end what ended up being a child with expensive cargo, she wasn’t painted in a flattering light. But she had to work with what she had. "Provided you don't mind me grabbing a bit of food," Sara continued commenting as she grabbed an unopened ration pack and started to snack on it, "you have two options." “Help yourself to some of the rations.” "I could tow you to the nearest fuel depot where both of us could fuel up, or we could move your supplies to my boat and come back for your freighter another time. It's not ideal, but it will take twice as much energy to tow your ship with mine and fuel isn't cheap. So, what's it gonna be?" Sara stood patiently while the little Mon Cal made her decision. Worst come to worst, Scorpion had food and could leave the guppy to her fate. But Scorpion could see the care in the little guppy’s eyes. This was important to her. “It’d probably be faster to cart these all aboard your ship. I know. I know. You could probably just fly off and leave me to rot, but something in the force tells me you wouldn’t do that. Maybe one day I can return the favor or if it is money you are really after, I am sure the Jedi Order would reimburse you for your troubles. Who knows maybe you’ll want to stick with me and help the folks planet side. I could always use another helping by hand. Maybe we could get a drink or go for a swim or something. I’ve been told the seas of Dac are not something one wants to miss. Have you ever been there? I haven’t. I mean, I was born there, but I don't really remember anything. My earliest memories are of the Jedi. I bet you’ve been there dozens of times. Maybe you could show me the places I just have to see.” Honestly, Scorpion had never been to Dac either. There wasn’t much of a reason for her to go. She’d been to other destinations in Mon Cal space but never Dac. She tried very hard to stay out of the bacta trade. It might have been lucrative and straight in its own right, but it was also extremely dangerous if you got caught on the wrong side. “Alright guppy. Let’s get the show on the road then. Show me where the stuff is and we’ll get it all carted over.” Sara chose to leave the ‘Jedi’ mention in the air and re-package that another time. It wasn’t important right now and if they both sat there interrogating one another nothing would get done. As it was, it took a few hours to disable the distress beacon and transfer all relevant cargo to the Luridae. When it was all said and done, Sara stuck a tracer on the Mon Cal's freighter tied directly to an encrypted signal on the Luridae's sensor suite and gathered the guppy before locking up and initializing another jump; this time aimed at Dac. “Oh, and the name’s Scorpion by the way.” Sara said as she punched in the coordinates and ran through the last countermeasure before initiating the jump. “You might want to sit down.”

Pure pazaak! Pure pazaak? Really? What was this spacer thinking? And why was he programmed to repeat the same phrase before and after every hand? If anyone had to live with this nattering every day, they'd probably have shot the holo in the face a long time ago. Whoever wrote this Rand.exe persona was probably a little loose in the brainpan. Sara stared long and hard at her cards. Her brow sloped closer to her eyes, flattening the faint wrinkles on her forehead and sighed through her nose. Her left hand kept her head from slamming into the metal of her dining table as the hum of her ship kept her idle thoughts at peace. Her other hand kept her bundle of cards from slipping to the table. There was a total of eighteen laid out on the table between three cards. And, in Sara's hand, she had: a plus/minus one, a plus/minus two, and a plus three. She knew she had the game in the bag and one more win would cement her streak. But she didn't see the point. This had been going on for hours. This was barely better than twiddling her thumbs. And if she had not invested in this holo-unit, she would probably be adding to the black marks on the ship's hull barely five feet away. The holo asked for a hit. '3' Pure pazaak! "I SWEAR BY THE FORCE THAT IF YOU…" Sara furiously intoned, clutching her right hand and sending her cards flying all over the floor. Her sweet amber eyes filled with murderous intent. Her thoughts were a hive of aggression and were just about to come to a head when a prick of sensation outside her perceptive bubble belayed the rising tide. Her cheeks flushed and her fist clutched even tighter. But, for the moment, her tirade was done. A loud beeping noise came from her cockpit, accompanied by a subtle groan from her stomach. A lazy glance noticed the hollow bags of rations left open nearby and despite the liquid fury still simmering beneath her skin, she decided there were things more worthy of her attention. Sparing one seething glance for the simulation still in progress, Sara got to her feet, paused to shake out her leg that had fallen asleep, and made her way toward the Luridae's cockpit. "What is it baby? Something good?" Sara cooed as she activated the transmitter on her dash. Her monitor fizzed for a moment before displaying the signal of a ship out in Calamari space. The signal was weak, but it was clearly a distress signal and not a job. Dang… Sara leaned against her ship and wiped her face with an open palm. She looked out at the empty void and lost focus, her gaze drifting toward the stars. "Well, it might be worth checking out." Pure paz-- Faster than she thought possible, fatigue plaguing her for the past few hours, her slug-thrower leaped to her hand and the holo-projector went up in smoke. Wasted creds "Anyway, time to see what this is about." Sara entered the coordinates into her navigational computer and initialized a hyper jump to the area; as close as the drive would take her anyway.

Identity Real Name: Corra Xui (Core - ah | Zhw - ee) A.K.A: Corra Homeworld: Corellia Species: Omwati Physical Description Age: 18 Height: 6’ 0” Weight: 140lbs Skin Color: Pale Blue Hair: Pearl White (Iridescent/Soft) Eyes: Light Blue Center with Dark blue flecks and Rim. Sex/Gender: Female Equipment Clothing or Armor: She wears: - A hip length dark, soft, brown leather Jacket. Underneath that: she wears a small dark, olive green, woven blouse and underneath that, a white tank top. - Light brown slacks. - Comfortable dark brown ankle boots. - A pair of metal necklaces she wears around her neck for decoration and a metal bead that she likes to adorn her hair with. Weapon: DL-44 Blaster Pistol Common Inventory: - 500 Credits. - A personalized wrist-mountable Datapad that she bought for school. - A fully functional Comm Unit. Faction Information Non Force User Alignment: Chaotic Good Current Faction Affiliation: N/A Current Faction Rank: N/A History: Known Skills: = Major in CompTech: Corra was taught a bit about Computer Technology at school and has some proficiency at working her way through Computer programs. She doesn’t have much of a resume though and although she has an advantage due to race, she is still inexperienced. // -- Due to School she has a basic knowledge of recent history, is proficient in Galactic Basic, The Omwatian language, and Huttese. = (Minor) Small Arms Training: Realizing his daughter might get herself into trouble some day, Corra’s father decided to proactively teach her how to shoot a side arm. She has a 2/5 accuracy rating and doesn’t practice as often as she probably should. Background: Decades ago Corra’s Grandparents moved to Corellia after the Omwati peoples joined the New Republic. With their devastating loss at the hands of the Empire, it was easier to adapt to life in the New Republic, but there were still many challenges. The traditions of Corellia were odd to them and remained that way for several years, but Corra’s Grandparents traveled the galaxy in search of opportunity and change. The Omwati were an intellectual people that sought knowledge wherever they went and Corra’s family was no exception. She was born in a small house on the Outskirts of Coronet. She can still remember the beauty of the sun as it passed behind Corellia’s brilliant skyline. She had an average early life. People were used to aliens and didn’t really give much thought to her surreal physiology. With blue skin and white iridescent hair she tended to stand out, but she got bullied as much as any other child did. That, in part, helped her feel like part of the community. She didn’t like it, but no one liked bullying. She got a scar on her cheek from a childhood injury and due to her species’ proclivity for frailty, the scar hasn’t faded much. Her parents loved her with as much love as they could spare and when it came time for her to graduate from school, her parents pooled together a small allowance to send her to Coruscant and give her some money to live on. They wanted to better realize a future for her. Corra always said how much she wanted to visit the Core, so what better planet than the most prominent Core planet in the galaxy. Her parents had as much faith in their child as other parents kept in their progeny, but they couldn't possibly know what would happen to her on the city planet...

Scorpion Identity Real Name: Sara Corion A.K.A: Scorpion Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa (?) Species: Zeltron Occupation: Smuggler/Mercenary/Freelance Pilot Physical Description Age: 24 Height: 5’ 7” Weight: 127 lbs Hair: Midnight Blue Hairstyle: (See above picture) Eyes: Gold/Amber (Honey) Sex/Gender: Female Skin: A rich crimson Skin Markings: - - Scar: A cut from a vibro blade across her right eye. Her Zeltron healing worked quickly to heal the wound, but the severity of the wound prevented her from completely healing, leaving behind a deep gash. - - Tattoo: 2 Tattoos. One tattoo is a full arm sleeve on her right arm that features a lot of mechanical based imagery and aircraft parts. It is topped off by this shape on her right shoulder: The other tattoo is a mysterious brand that she had before she was a refugee. Equipment Clothing or Armor: Head/Neck: - A big pair of goggles hang around her neck most of the time, especially when she’s in or around her ship. The eye pads are roughly treated and heavily weathered. Each lens is opaque, making them extremely difficult to see through. Jewelry: - 4 piercings on her right ear and 3 on her left; a special piece of jewelry on her right ear is comprised of two gold rings chained together; one ring in the top of her cartilage and another ring rests in one of the three open spots in her lobe. - A gold septum ring. - A golden stud through her bottom lip. - And, although most people don't see it, she has a small obsidian bar through her tongue that clicks against her teeth when she talks. Torso: - A short-sleeved tightly-woven brown Kevlar shirt. - Thick shoulder straps of rough dewback leather lead to large underarm holsters on both sides of her body. - A black long coat with deep side pockets; the exterior is made from synthetic fibers that have seen extensive wear. The interior is laced with soft and matted razor cat fur to keep the wearer warm while soaring through space. Waist: - A burnt brown leather belt covered in a myriad of scorch marks. A number of satchels hang from the belt on both sides. Arms: - A full sleeve tattoo crawls the length of her right arm and a small, black, leather, fingerless glove sits on her right hand. - Her left arm is covered (save for a small opening at the wrist for her launcher to fire out of) by a long-sleeved, fingerless, black, leather, glove that attaches (and detaches) to her Kevlar shirt at the shoulder, leaving only a very small portion of her red arm exposed. Inside the long glove and fastened to her left wrist is a small mechanical launching device. It fires small dart-like projectiles and can only load one cartridge of darts at any one time. She typically carries four spare cartridges (each one containing about 10 darts) in her waist pouches.The device features a standard launching mechanism, but the darts carry a special venom that comes from a variety of Onderonian scorpions. ** This device is why Sara has the moniker 'Scorpion.' Legs: - A pair of kevlar shorts that are darker brown than her shirt with two pockets (one on each hip). They cover her posterior and the upper part of her thigh but stop about halfway before they reach the knee. - A pair of black cloth leggings underneath the shorts with nothing fancy about them. The leggings have small and moderately sized holes riddled throughout with singed edges. Feet: - A pair of brown (same brown as her shorts), leather, steel-toe, long boots with a sturdy heel; the boots start at her knees with an articulated knee-pad and go all the way down to her feet. Her boots have a mess of straps on them. These straps fasten the boots to her calves and conceal two small sheaths, one on either boot. Weapon(s) : - Two long-barreled metal (handgun) slugthrowers in her under-arm holsters. - Two small knives hidden in her boots. - 1 Thermal grenade, 1 Concussive Grenade, 1 Cryo Grenade, 4 cartridges for her wrist launcher (Waist pouches) (Concussive and Cryo grenades were used on Mon Cal). - Wrist launcher Common Inventory: - A beaten up Data-pad that stays in her ship while she is away. - A re-breather (for her work with poison gas) - A standard communications relay device - A variety of spices (cooking spices, not drug spices). (In one of several pockets) - A hydro-spanner (attached to her belt by a strap at her hip) - Enough credits to keep her ship in the air and to keep food on her table, and that is all that matters. Faction Information Force Sensitive Alignment: True Neutral Current Faction Affiliation: None Current Faction Rank: N/A History Known Skills: Pilot – [Good] Self-taught from a young age, she knows her way around most ships and can make it out of a scrape if it comes down to it. Poisoner - [Adequate] after purchasing her poison cartridges from a black market dealer, she's tried to reverse engineer them with... mixed results. She's still working on it. Cook – [Passable] Being alone in space doesn't lend itself to great cooking. So, to save money, Sara learned to make do with whatever she could. She isn’t an all-star cook, but she's pretty good for cooking solo meals. Small Weapons – [Good] She can use knives to a point ( Heh ). She isn’t a skilled knife fighter nor is she an expert at small guns, but she knows which end goes where and she knows how to use them if she needs to. This also applies to her wrist launcher. She has skill, but she's nowhere near master. She's almost guaranteed to miss every third shot. Reading People/Pheromones – [Racial Traits] Being a Zeltron gives her a little bit of an advantage when meeting people. One, her body produces pheromones which generally lend to an easy get-out-of-jail-free card if and/or when she gets caught. Two, she can project emotions onto others and read them. The latter ability has varied success, but she's been able to successfully use it to dodge scary customers and avoid potentially lethal contracts. Background Before Sara was left to her own devices on Nar Shaddaa, she was the daughter of a business mogul. Realizing that a daughter born out of wedlock would be a PR nightmare for them, the mogul gave Sara to a Hutt in exchange for protection. Sara was branded and marked as the Hutt's property. Fortunately, this was days before a raid that rendered the Hutt powerless and dismantled the corrupt slug's power structure. But, not giving up without a fight, the Hutt's forces pushed the invading force away in a last ditch effort. Sara's saviors were shot down over the Smuggler's moon and crashed on the lower levels. With no other alternative, Sara was given to a family of refugees to keep her safe. Sara grew up as a refugee on Nar Shaddaa - another result of the great conflict - and had to scrounge what she could to survive. Eventually, whether it was serendipity or just dumb luck, she found herself sponsored by one of the criminal powers on the Smuggler's Moon. The crime lord saw her tattoo/brand and took note that she was Hutt property. He viewed this as a power move against the Hutts and used Sara to gain leverage over a Hutt lord on Nar Shaddaa without letting Sara know what the brand meant. He didn't really like her free-spirit and their relationship was appropriately strained. But he could not ignore the drive hidden beneath Sara's rough exterior. Her incorrigible momentum didn't always produce success, but Sara learned. She won her freedom from the crime lord in a game of chance. Rumor is that she cheated, but there are several conflicting stories about it. Ever since then, Sara has taken odd jobs here and there, taking cargo across the trade ways. It's not pretty, but it pays the bills. Ship Registration Name: Luridae Class: Light Freighter Model: YT-2000 Manufacturer: Corellian Engineering Corporation Length: 29.4 meters Armaments: Dual laser cannon turrets (2) Armor: Standard shielding, except on the chem lab areas. She has added, with the help of friends, interior shielding to help protect the inside more than the standard to prevent an accidental breach due to chemical experiments. Anti-Personnel Defenses: There is a small remote-operated turret on the area above the cockpit. It shoots standard rounds for a high caliber infantry weapon and isn’t intended for attacking an army or small fighters. It is mainly set-up to repel loan sharks or womanizing individuals. If needed. Appearance: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/YT-2000_light_freighter