Jump to content

Bothawui


Tarrian Skywalker

Recommended Posts

In the skies above Bothawui, The Crate dropped out of hyperspace. In the cockpit, a single alarm blared. I grumbled to myself, fumbling under the control panel until my metal fingers closed on what I was looking for. With a yank, I pulled out a metal cylinder. The alarm died away.

 

Last time I buy a pressure reader from a swap meet.

 

"We're here!" I called out.

 

 

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

As I followed the jawa Kiv through the city, I began to consider his companion. I made it my business to read people. Well, not their likes of dislikes and stuff. Or their temperments. Or really their personalities in general.

 

What I meant was I knew how to read how dangerous a person was. And this tusken was dangerous. He walked with the kind of energy and stance that said Hi, if you cross me I'll skin you, fold your skin into a hat, and look dang proud of myself wearing it. Not a bad person to have around, so long as they stayed on task, and a heap of trouble if they went off book. 

 

I'm mixing my metaphors, and maybe I was just being a little paranoid, but having two of those kinds of people hanging around together seemed like a recipe for trouble, and the jawa probably wouldn't help matters. 

 

On 6/27/2022 at 8:30 PM, Klu Kiv said:

“Anywho, this is Grees.” Kiv introduce the squib. A young-looking blue-hair squib, who’s bloodshot eyes revealed many sleepless nights during the past few weeks of war time. “Good friend, good friend. You ask him, yes? He get you it, yes yes…”

 

Kiv sat down in the booth and patted the seats next to him, indicating for one of the others to sit, and for negotiations to begin.   

 

I'll admit it, I felt a little nauseous at the sight of that blue, furry face. I don't like squibs. Shoot me for it.

 

"Alright," I said. "I'm looking for food packs, air purifiers, and water purifiers. As many as you can, don't care if they're used." I thought for a second. "Except for the food packs. Those need to be unused," I added.

 

On 6/27/2022 at 9:53 PM, Wyvernfall said:

The third drunk, realizing the potential totality of overreaching bantha poop he and his comrades may have stepped into fell back leaving a distance of several feet between he an the Tusken, an empty bit of floor in the otherwise packed bar. With his rifle leveled at Rru, the drunk man shook. Before he could respond, the tired bar owner had waived over a lair of hulking Abyssian bouncers. One grabbed the rifle, expertly twisting it from the drunk’s hands while simultaneously grabbing him about the neck and lifting him from his feet.

 

The other swung at the Tusken, intent in the same. Used to drunken brawlers of all calibers, the Abyssian was powerful and practiced. Rru, swung his gaderffi about, ready for yet another attacker; but before he could do so, the entirety of the bar about them erupted in a chorus of cheers and taunts as the excitement of a fight broke up the monotony of another dreary day.

 

What in the- Did someone actually start a barfight?

 

Deep down, I knew what had happened before I even saw the two bouncers standing in front of that brown bedecked murder man. 

 

Great, I thought, and I honestly couldn't tell if I was exasperated or excited. It was a very odd feeling.

 

I turned to look back at the squib. "Don't make me track you down," I said, wagging a metal finger like a disapproving mother.

 

I walked towards the two Abyssians, while the tusken swung that club of his while shuffling through the puddles of blood and teeth on the floor. Quickest (and most fun) way to end this I figured was to put down the biggest guys in the bar and clear a path for me, the tusken, the jawa, and our contact to leave. That those guys happened to be the bouncers was pure happenstance.

 

It also occurred to me as I walked over that I could have just left the tusken alone. I didn't need to get involved. I could have just covered the squib and finished our business.

 

Ah, screw it. How often did you get the chance to fight Abyssians? No one could take a punch and keep on swinging like those cyclopes?

 

"Hey," I said, coming up behind the bouncer holding the rifle of the drunk. Then, with a quick chop, I cut down with my hand into the gun, knocking it to the ground, and with two swift punches I down the drunk and got the bouncer good and mad.

 

I grinned.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

The downside of brawls when you're actually good at fighting is that they don't last long. Sure, it's fun to punch big, tough, thugs in the ego, but once people understand that you are actually dangerous they tend to back off. Or double down with blasters. Either way, the fun is over pretty quick.

 

I suppose that's why bar brawls are the best. Nothing suppresses a creature's survival instinct like alcohol, and if you get them good and mad they'll just keep coming.

 

On 7/7/2022 at 11:45 PM, Klu Kiv said:

Kiv had to stop before breaking into a sprint. “Hmm… thanks to you two, we may be wanted. Got to be sneaky. Good thing you have Kiv. He be very sneaky when needed. You have problem with sewers you two?”

 

I grimaced.

 

hated sewers. With a passion. With a raw, unbridled passion.

 

It wasn't the smell necessarily. It was the work afterwards. The long tedious work. As it turns out, you can't just power wash cybernetics the same way you take a shower. No matter how careful you are, that stink and filth gets in every little crack and crevice and joint and sits there for weeks. You had to take apart every single piece and clean it separately just to get rid of that stench.

 

But...getting into a firefight with law enforcement really didn't sound like a good idea either. A bounty hunting license would probably get me in more trouble than not here. No legitimate bounty to track, so I'd be seen as a violent thug who let loose for the fun of it.

 

Which, to be fair...

 

I stopped next to a sewer grate, and wrenched it off.

 

"Alright...let's go."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Gross...gross...gross...

 

The word ran through my head in a silent mantra.

 

The squelching, the slime, and the stink, all conspired to tickle my gag reflex. I focused as hard as I could on just not throwing up, if for no other reason than to not embarass myself in front of my new partners. That's why I didn't notice what was swimming behind us.

 

I saw the tusken climb up onto a pathway that I had completely missed in the gloom. That tusken had sharp eyes or something, because even seeing him clamber up onto it, I still could barely make it out.

 

I reached out for the path, but jerked to a stop a few inches from it, my foot caught in a particularly sucky spot. I yanked my foot up, but whatever I was stuck in didn't come loose. I jerked again, and kicking, but still the weight that had settled on my foot remained. I turned to pull my foot out from whatever had snagged me by hand, when I saw the shadows swirling through the water. At that point, I came to a sudden realization.

 

I wasn't stuck. I was grabbed.

 

No sooner had I realized this fact then the creature decided to play with its new toy. I found myself suddenly lifted straight up out of the muck and dangling by my foot in the air, being waved back and forth like a toddler with a new doll. I made several grabs for the tentacle, but the rapid shaking threw me off just enough to keep me from getting a grip.

 

"HEY!" I called out, not sure what they'd do but hopeful they could do something.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

I only caught a glimpse of the second creature moving towards the jawa before the flailing of the tentacle that held me turned everything into a blur again. I honestly found myself hoping the little guy would be alright and somehow make it out.

 

Not sure what came over me. Might just be all the blood rushing to my head.

 

CRACK!!!

 

The sound of the gunshot echoed wildly through the water-filled tunnel. I wasn't sure what the tusken had hit with his long rifle, but whatever it was it made the dianoga holding my recoil in pain. For just a brief moment, it held me still as it cringed.

 

And that was enough.

 

I bent at the waist and wrapped my metal fingers around the slimy, slippery tentacle. It was too wide for my hands to close around it completely, and so slick it would slide out of my grip the second the creature started moving.

 

However, I knew one thing the creature didn't. Grip is friction, and friction is just slipperiness vs force. It had slipperiness, but I had force.

 

My fingers tightened like vices, and the rubbery flesh indented, and then tore as my hands made their own holds in the creature's cartilaginous limb. As my metal digits embedded themselves in the tentacle, the dianoga gave something of a moan that clearly denoted pain, and its grip on my leg instinctively tightened. It began shaking me, aggressively this time, like a child waving their arm when they find a spider crawling up it. Even as my head swam, my hands did not let go. Instead, they began to twist. With a tearing noise, I twisted the tentacle in two, and dropped down.

 

I only briefly registered the boom and accompanying flash of light of the tusken firing another shot as I dropped down onto my own dianoga. The tunnel wasn't deep, and it didn't realize yet that it needed to run. Fine by me. I landed on its head, and the killing instinct took me, the instinct that bypassed all thought when I was in a fight for my life, and separated everything into Need to Kill and Don't Need to Kill. With a brutality that didn't even slightly resemble my echani training, I extended my armblades as I landed feet first on the dianoga's bulk, and began driving them into the slimy meat again and again and again.

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

I stumbled off of the dead dianoga, head pounding, waiting for the adrenaline spike to go down. This was a big one, it would take a minute.

 

It didin't take long to realize that my companions had survived their encounter with the other beast, and I'll admit I was a little surprised. The tusken, sure, I fully expected him to survive. He was the kind of guy that would break a dragon's tooth, to borrow an arkanian saying. But the jawa?

 

Well, maybe I was being a bit harsh.

 

Rodents had their own ways of ensuring they didn't get stepped on.

 

___________________

 

I looked over the crates. With my finger, I started ticking off what I thought might be needed by a caravan on that hellscape of world. Portable shelters, certainly. Weapons? Better keep to the simple ones, none of that high tech nonsense. Slug throwers, basic blasters, and anything with an edge. Air and water filters definitely. Couldn't get enough of those things where we were going.

 

My eyes landed on one large box, easily the size of a human body. Frowning, I scrubbed the grime off the label. My eyes widened. A smile crept across my face.

 

I pointed down at the crate.

 

"This. We'll need this."

 

The label read [JOBEN T-85 SPEEDER BIKE]

  • Like 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...
On 8/9/2022 at 8:40 PM, Klu Kiv said:

“So, you got what you need, we got what we need, we good, yes scary cyborg lady? We can leave now? I know big cousin would like the open skies again.”

 

I arched an eyebrow at the little jawa. Oddly enough, he'd come through. And not in a small way.

 

"Yeah," I said. "We load up, and we're out."

 

_______________________________________________

 

I sat in the cockpit, cords dangling from the ceiling and hooked into my cybernetics waving back and forth as my hands moved over the controls. I usually didn't like charging while I worked, but I wanted to make sure my power cells were absolutely topped off before we hit our destination.

 

No telling what would be waiting for us there.

 

Well, that wasn't exactly true.

 

I knew it wouldn't be anything good.

 

"Takeoff!" I called back to The Crate's passengers.

 

With a roar of thrusters, the old, repurposed ship of the Republic fleet nosed up and off the planet's surface. Breaking through the clouds, the indicator blinked on that we were safely outside the gravity well.

 

"Here we go," I muttered.

 

The Crate disappeared into hyperspace.

 

(Continued on Glasignis)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...