The long, slow sound of the guard's snores billowed gently through the hall, the air almost palpable even in the cell.
Wren raced by the bars, silent as a shadow.
Out of all her house, she preferred to work alone; it was safer and easier that way. Used to her law of averages, she was sharp and prepared in the field, like now. After entering through the basement she'd snuck her way along, purposefully not drawing her sword as she made her way to the records room deeper inside. The sooner she found out what she wanted to know, the better. Only Inshabel even knew she was here instead of still in her room.
She paused and backpedalled, craning into the cell. Blindfolded, she could still see anything about out to ten feet, like a bat but with vibrations from the floor.
The voice in the cell was as miserable as it was high pitched and squeaky. "Kowarrtowaaaa. Hoobini."
Glowing eyes turned, and hands were suddenly grasping the bars, as an urgent whisper sounded out. "Utini!"
"...oh, dear lord." Wren muttered, backing away and grimacing. Everything had been going so well, but this was a curveball. She hadn't seen any Jawas other than the ones that had gutted her house, both before and after. Her memories weren't very fond. She knew this particular one probably had nothing to do with all that, but her first reflex was to flinch for her sword.
"Well, what's one of you doing here?.... What is one of you doing here? What did you steal?" She asked, crouching and then turning her head to take in the sleeping guard. She didn't plan on dawdling long.
"Gawaa! Gin ti so nyo ukk ukkitidiniiii!"
The absolutely miserable looking protocol droid head on the creature's belt spoke up. "He wishes to violently protest the word steal. He is lying, if by technicality. He was locked up here for -trying- to unsuccessfully steal the miniature nuclear fusion core matrix concealed in the records room. That they didn't kill him is a wonder and a half, honestly."
"Hroy! EeeWaaa!"
"I know I could be disassembled further, you horrid little rodent. At this point I would welcome it. You have not known pain, ma'am, until your existence has been reduced to bobbing at a Jawa's crotch level with no hands and nothing to cleanse the problem. I assure you."
"Reaaawwrrh," begged the Jawa.
"Nonetheless, while the punishment is better than he likely deserves, my programming compels me to inform you he is trying to bargain his way out with you. Directly with you, in the sense of leaving, although also to you in the sense of the pitch."
Wren kept her face deliberately blank as she processed and worked through what she'd been told. Her first inclination was to move on and leave him behind without another word, but that would've been a rather cold thing to do. Besides, from what she'd heard, he'd already been where she was heading. It made the back of her neck prickle and her shoulders tense, but she still leaned forward to whisper.
"You ought to keep your hands to yourself... Alright, well, hmm. It seems we can help each other; I need to find my way to where they keep the records and you both want a way out of there. What can you offer me in return?" She murmured levelly.
"...You aren't to be executed, are you?"
"RowwwwwBottz!" the Jawa tried, the word mangled but recognizable eventually as robots. "Nooo die! Ga-waaii!"
He ran about in circles, and the snores, abruptly, began to hitch and stop.
Wren's mouth twitch before she snapped her gaze over to the guard, springing up and flattening herself against the opposite empty cell's door, hiding behind the stone lip. It was flimsy, but it was better than starting a problem she couldn't handle without being ready. Putting her fake hand on her sword's hilt, she looked back over and across to the Jawa at the other bars.
She lifted her wrap to peer at him, undecided; He was small, and cute, and lost, which melted her heart, but he was also a thief and potentially would murder her when her back was turned. Something she'd said to Trace murmured in her memory, and she heaved a silent sigh. She looked at the Jawa, nodded, and have him an unsure smile before putting a finger to her lips and tensing as she listened to track the guard. She couldn't yet see him.
Slow, lumbering foot steps sounded before a very large man of a mongoloid bent appeared in view, bleary eyed and of rumpled uniform. "Why do you squeak so loudly, you little rat thing?" came the complaint, as he bent down to peer at the alien. "You have your food. You have a bed. Toilet. That's a seriously good deal, given the boss could have just shot you. It's not like you even had to go through a trial or anything. Why can't you just let a guy nap?"
He scratched his nose and looked at the squid tattoo on his wrist before sighing. "Fine. You win. I'll just have to patrol instead. Thanks for making us both miserable."
"Houdini!"
"Your mother, man."
She poked her head out and watched him leave, waiting for the sounds of footsteps to fully fade before walking back over to the Jawa's cell to stare down at him.
"I think I will free you, after thinking it over. But after that, we'll be heading deeper in. I need to see the records they keep here- and you'll help me find them before we leave. That's all. Please don't make me regret this." She said frankly. "My name is Wren. Who are you both?"
"...How am I to get you out of there?" She continued, looking over at the lock and frowning.
"You couldn't pronounce his name. He goes by-"
"Jimhbuohwaaohtiiiiiinii!"
"Jimmbo. Just call the thing Jimmbo. I am C-2ZI, Seetwo if you will. Sito if you feel especially like personifying, but really, at this point I would settle for just a chassis so I could curl up and emulate crying," the depressed droid head answered. "I believe the door has a mechanism latch to the upper right, at forty one degrees and six feet. It is very likely sealed, of course. "
Wren studied the lock and tried the handle just in case, but it didn't budge; she scuffed it with her foot and wished she hadn't left the little kit Trace had made for her at home. It seemed an older style retrofitted for modern use, or she guessed, having never been here before. Opening it without a key wasn't just a matter of picking it. A rough plan took shape in her mind as she looked back over at the chair the Guard had left.
"It's very nice to meet you both, or it would be in nicer circumstances. I think I could swipe the keys from the guard, with a little luck, but before we begin you both ought to know- it could be dangerous for you. Bad things happen around me, and you'll be safer in... Your... Prison cell. Erm, well, nevermind. I don't suppose you've much choice, really." She said, shrugging and smiling again. "I'll be back quickly one way or another. Keep your fingers crossed."
After she'd set off, moving quickly and quietly, she looked around for any guard she could spot. All she needed was one- one to have drop their keys, or misplace them, or leave them sitting on a counter. Bad luck wasn't as terrible when it was equal, since misery loved company. Ideally her sword wouldn't even come out.
"Man, this is not what I expected when I signed up to work as a mook at a corrupt organization," the guard muttered audibly the other way, padding around with mildly surprising quiet other than his footfalls and voice. "Especially with the whole exotic Pacific island thing. Cracked had me thinking I'd be sipping martinis and enjoying the beachfront until a James Bond type came by, and then I'd probably die in some exciting way. This tour has been about as boring as working at Morpheus was, though. It'd be almost identical if all I was doing was sitting and pointing a pistol at a brain in a jar or someone in a submersion bath for twelve hours straight."
"If it wasn't for the dental, I might bug off to the Kobbers instead when they get back in town, jeeze."
Within his desk, not far from where she'd entered, really, were a set of electronic card keys.
Wren paused and considered her position; A prison system was one thing, but the fact that so far she'd seen barely any prisoners- enough to make Jimmbo stand out- made her wonder how corrupt the organization was. It made it less likely she'd be arrested and detained if discovered and more murky as to the results. If nothing else, she ought to have the House look in to it, assuming she succeeded.
Finding the keys wasn't hard- once she snuck close to the drawer she spotted them and then pulled it open with a wince before heading back quickly. Once at the cell, she opened the door and put the keys on her belt before holding it for the Jawa.
"So!... What were you going to steal the core matrix for? You're not the sort to just snatch an innocent droid-" her eyes flicked to Seetwo to him and then back. "-are you?"
"Kekketiyy, dosh quo nininni, towoy."
"The bad men had a really powerful device for powering their purposes."
"Hykkban trghaak ououh ga!"
"Once he sold the device, they would be weaker with nothing keeping their devices on, and then he could take their other things as scrap and sell them. As a 'good' act. If they didn't have spares."
"Jikk jikk borrobi!"
"No one in law enforcement knows about this place or the records yet. And a nuke is not easy to ignore as evidence goes. Besides making him wealthier, it'd be a solid reason to put some investigation into what they'd need it for."
"Hiiiiiiiighaaaaaaaaiiii!"
"Oh dear. The guard is standing behind you with a truncheon."
Wren whirled on her heel and threw her fake arm out and up; she wasn't trying to catch the weapon, just smack the guard's forearm or hand away from her, like pushing someone down in an already seated position. She backpedalled and put her hands up, holding them open rather than in fists. She had to do this quick and quiet- one guard might not have been a problem, but there were many, many more of them then there were of her.
"Hello. I'm very sorry about all this, but it couldn't be helped." She said simply, before lunging in. She batted away punches and checked him by kicking his knee when he'd come forward or his stomach when he'd rally; until she could pick the exact moment to land a decisive blow, she wouldn't batter a man just trying to do his job. He was bigger than her, but she was quicker, and more skilled. It fell on her to stay out of range.
Lashing out, she kicked the hand holding the club before she slipped to the right and threw a left hook.
Down he went like a sack of potatoes, although perhaps more feigned than real. Looking good for the cameras? He certainly didn't seem to be all that interested in actually bringing bloodshed to either ofthem.
Wren looked from her flame-carved wooden knuckles to the man's jaw, a little surprised that had worked at all before picking up the truncheon and tucking it in her belt. She paused and then dragged him against the wall before she turned back to the Jawa.
"...before us is the administrative wing, and to the right is another row of cells. Further back should be more cells, but many are empty. The same here... What is this place? Why did they need that advanced of a power generator?" She asked, walking over and spotting a vending machine. She patted herself before realizing she had no change and frowning.
"Here. You ought to have this." She said, holding out the club to him and trying to seem offhand about it.
"Kikikikikoawwwwwaarhhh."
"Why does a corporation need cells or a semi-remote island location?"
"Jiiinjik jup japee!"
"To do things to and with people that they don't want known about. Say, powering medical stasis pods to conduct hands on experiments, or selling what's left afterward. Organs go for a pretty penny in some places, and provable vaccines, well."
Wren closed her mouth, still shocked and troubled. She slowly paced in place before suddenly perking up and facepalming. "That's why it was such smooth goings! Nothing went wrong because it had gone wrong from the moment I started... Well, fiddlesticks." She cursed.
"I'll level with you; I was after a picture in their records, that was all. It's- well, the last one of my father. The very last one. But I think this has become too dangerous to push forward without any assistance. I'd hate to be captured and shot in a windowless room... Let's look around and then leave just as quickly as we can." She said, drawing her sword. It was a katana, but it was almost as long as she was.
Taking the club and following in the odachi wielding woman's wake, the tiny Jawa muttered to himself and tried not to stick his gloved hands in the electric boxes. It was a difficult temptation to ignore. So much to sell. But the bigger prize lay ahead. Although... this time if they caught the alien rooting around, they probably wouldn't keep him alive for testing and risk a third attempt.
The picture in their records and the fusion device would have to go a long way to equal to an exit, by Jimmbo's estimation, but he owed her for loosing him, and he always paid his debts. Fully, occasionally with interest. It was business.
Wren moved quickly and with purpose, like she'd planned out each step in advance. She darted her way through the facility, cautious and alert. Being able to see around corners helped, and so far, her rough plan to keep moving and remain unseen was working. The only problem was, the deeper they went the more guards would be present. A fight in might be avoidable, but she readied herself for the race and fight out she thought she felt coming.
Pausing behind a wall, she held up her hand and watched the man on the other side before he turned around and she waved forward, running between the gap and flattening herself once again. Behind them, the guard dropped his weapon and cursed.
Taking direction from Jimmbo, she led the way deeper in, waiting on pins and needles for things to go wrong.
Further up, and further in. Further through and further on. Every moment dripped sweat and tension, yet the building seemed, beyond token guards, almost fairly well abandoned. Certainly less active than anyone actively monitoring cameras ought to be, particularly after a recent burglary. Where -were- all of them?
The lack of prisoners, guards, and personnel were playing on her nerves; where'd taken comfort from the silence, it now seemed as oppressive as a crypt. Empty cells yawned, and it felt like danger lurked the less in evidence it was. Kneeling down behind a stand of lockers, she looked askance at Jimmbo.
"...Where is everyone? This isn't a new prison, there ought to have been at least a token few-" She looked around and then back, putting it together and horrified. "Seetwo, tell me they weren't using the free human supply here for their work. They can't have just gotten away with something like that."
"I am unfortunately not programmed with the capacity to lie, madam. Nor to conjecture. I do not know why their own staff is equally missing."
"I don't like this at all..." Wren muttered, continuing on. She waited until a guard passed before skulking around another corner.
The next corner revealed a radically alien environment, flora growing from the walls and metal floors in thick, heavy coatings. Moss, fungi, and glowing flowers cast their thick shadows across overgrown filing cabinets and broken doorways. A thick bark laden root wedged open an elevator.
This was made all the more clearly unnatural for either office or Kuwahawi outside by the red pine growing out of a very startled looking corpse's back in a guardsman uniform.
"Fgui!?"
"This wasn't here last time. Just clinical environments. I would advise further caution, madame. It seems the plants kill."
A thorny tendril roiled into the hallway they'd just crossed and elicited a shriek of surprise and pain from the guard whose notice they'd avoided. The Jawa looked around it for any trace of gunfire or the individual, and promptly proceeded to vomit.
"Are you going to be okay?" Wren asked, lifting her wrap up so one eye was exposed. Examining the environment tensed her up from how bad things had grown. Kneeling, she poked the moss with her sword tip before tracing the path to the stairs. She'd expected medical monsters and savage beasts, not a forestscape that acted predatory.
"...Be on your toes. If it gets too bad we'll leave." She said forebodingly, before picking a path through the loam.
Not having expected for either, the desert scavenger grappled with terror, confusion, and revulsion before he screwed his courage to the sticking place and followed her, albeit not without a long and nigh incessent stream of underbreath groaning. Things had seemed to be going so well when the first guard was oblivious and personable. Now he almost wondered if the cage had been safer... but that thought was dashed by the seed pods burgeoning through a shattered reinforced door. At one time, it would have been the opening to the laboratory and records wing. Now, it looked like something straight from Nurgle's better homes and gardens, or Jumunji.
Wren moved like a heron, carefully placing her steps to make sure she could draw back if she needed to. She was careful not to cut any plants with her blade, just in case every surface around them was in communication. Inshabel's gardens aside, she didn't have much experience with greenery, and so was unfamiliar with many overlarge flowers and thorned roots.
"...the air is humid." She whispered, creeping along and waiting for the inevitable attack.
When it did, she received some small forewarning, if scarcely. Ahead of them drifted a small, nigh on invisible cloud, scarcely notable spores and filigree. They induced the nervous looking man with the flamethrower and labcoat into beginning to sneeze violently before the very edge of his nose began to warp outward and shred with bulbous flora, thick roots embedding in his skull and wiggling like grotesquely engorged veins as the parasite spread. He fired wildly, literally and figuratively, as he spasmed in pain, and rather than become completely subsumed despite the visible progress, he caught the spores alight. And the roots. The flowers.
Almost immediately, seven mossy carcasses that were presumably former coworkers lurched out of the browning greenery to assault him, thorns swept wildly, and a great maw in the roof opened its sundew petals to bite him in half with its vegetative presure before downing the burning and lurching again, like a venus flytrap with actual lethal force.
"Don't... breathe... in," warned Sito, perhaps redundantly.
Wren nodded in slow horror before wrapping her cloth across her nose and mouth instead. Her eyes were very green and very concerned as she watched the room reset itself to tranquility, like the ice over a lake filled with the dead.
Heart hammering in her ears, when the vine shot out to wrap around her sword, the first thing she did was cringe back in expectation of death; trying to yank it back, she watched other, smaller vines break away from the main mass to ensnare her arm. She was caught in a tug-of-war before shifting her blade to her free hand and hacking her prosthetic off at the elbow. Watching it be bundled away, she ran a hand through her hair, cursed, and then spat on the ground.
"I liked that arm, damn you!" She yelled after the plants, shaking her sword at them. She couldn't shake her fist without dropping it.
Hardly thinking he could best such things with a nightstick he'd seen fail a guard already, Jimmbo used her distraction to take the flamethrower, itself quite as large and as heavy as the little Jawa. With a few twists, he wrapped Sito's "jaws" around it instead of the belt and slowly nudged him across one way before heading the other himself. He waved her on behind him desperately as the droid, with a weary, world resigned sigh, opened fire well away from the pair on the way to records and the last evidences.
Wren watched the gouts of fire incinerate plants before she hurried after Jimmbo, jumping a moment before the moss under her collapsed into a dark pit. She took a breath behind her impromptu mask before shoving a small tree aside and ducking some low-hanging fruit.
"It's becoming a jungle in here. I don't think the rest of the facility has much longer before it's green too." She said, using her sword to shove a battalion of ferns to the left and out of his way.
Although his translator was gone, or would be in very short order seeing the hostility of the plants, Jimmbo's squeaks were in no way unidentifiable as agreement with her statement. On the other hand, after bustling through and battling a brigade of semimobile mushrooms, the records room was in sight. Some sort of odd field emitter was translating and transmitting gamma radiation in such a frequency as perturbed the plants, not out and out killing them, but causing enough damage to the complex cellular communications network that allowed for their shared mentality, a 'internet' as much as 'hive mind' between the entities, that it preferred avoiding it altogether.
An odd field emitter that had, funnily enough, powered the devices that helped enable them in the first place, and, though damaged enough to leak now, both Wren and Jimmbo had been aware of and after in the first place.
The mini nuclear reactor might well hurt them greatly, but it might equally save their lives long enough to grab and run.
Wren's face brightened at the sight of safety, and she smiled as she wiped chunks of white fungi off her boots and blade. After bending and eyeing the reactor with the critical eye of someone who knew nothing about reactors, she hurried to the files and left Jimmbo at it.
"Stan, Stann, Stano, where's..." She muttered, yanking another drawer open and riffling through it's contents. Her search became more frantic as she went on, flipping through folders in a frenzy. Only after pulling a box and sending it to the floor did she stop, downcast. It wasn't there. It had all been for noth-
Wren blinked down at a folder on the ground before picking it up and looking at a face she hadn't seen in years. Her father looked like her, the same sort of pointy chin and her nose. He wasn't smiling in the photo, and the picture was blurry, or it was until she wiped her eyes. Folding the mug shot carefully, she pocketed it before making her way back to the Jawa.
"...Do you need any help?" She asked, quietly pleased.
The Jawa struggled with the reactor core, but toted it well enough, replying with a mildly tired "Utini!"
Then he stopped and took stock of her with the photo and the wrecked desks, and his tone became entirely more bewildered and inquisitive. "Upujikajawah?"
What was this photo from? How had she known it would be here, although she'd mentioned knowing it was and coming for it? Why did she want it? Did she not possess others? Why? Why was it here? What connection did it have with this place? Who was this man, beyond the known quantity of being her parent? Did he have anything to do with this, or was it a reminescance of someone who had known him in the past? What were their feelings toward him if so?
None of these were questions the little alien could even field, but given that the large woman (at least comparably to his viewpoint) with the prosthetic had gotten him out of the cage and kept him from being plant food, he wasn't as inclined to suspicion of her as he might have been otherwise. Instead he muttered and paced out slowly towards the plants, letting the field wave affect them as he trudged his way out. He tried to make sure she remained in the safe radius as he did. "Jik! Jik!" Close! Close!
Wren heard the questions in his voice, but it took a little gathering of herself to try and answer. Circumstances, her personality, and the fact that bad things happened around her kept her closed bound. Focusing on sticking to him like glue and avoiding desiccating plant matter let her map out what to tell a relative stranger.
"...A long while ago- maybe not that long, where I lay my head, the time is weird- I was something like a princess. Not, er, actually royalty, or anything, but my father was the great, great, many many greats grandson of the man who claimed and settled my former home. It was a sizable asteroid that was over seventy percent precious metals, silver being the chief among them. Rather a frontier sort of place." She said, stepping over a wilting tree that weakly reached out to grab her boots. "It wasn't as big as some rocks I've heard about, but there was plenty of ground to cover. We all stayed in the interior tunnels, the surface was more of a tourist trap..."
Flicking a mushroom out of their way with her sword, she continued. "No illusions; I liked my life. It was simple and good. I had everything a girl could want, and more besides. I remember my parents were even going to buy me a little skimmer for my eighteenth birthday. Something to flit around the system and broaden my horizons. My mother never wanted the same sort of life for me." She briefly smiled before it died by degrees.
"...We dug too deep and woke something terrible. I think now our mines were it's prison... My last sight of home was leaving in an escape pod with my friend Inshabel, watching while it cracked and then shattered. Soundlessly. It just... Drifted apart. At first there were explosions and fires, but eventually they stopped." She swallowed. "I have a locket with my mother's picture, and one of her and my father together, but none of only him. It's silly, I know, but... I miss him. I miss them both." She said, pulling her wrap back over her eyes to hide behind.
Although fleeing for safety took priority, he listened with some degree of interest, not being all that familiar with human colonists or their relationships. Or that there were so many spacers around. Most of the beings that the Jawa group he had been with had met and sold to were one planet rubes if they were around these parts, barring one or two sales outward. It did come some degree to explaining how the picture had gotten here and this Inshabel figure knowing, as well, if more of the survivors or people related to them had migrated to the same place. They did seem to be absolutely predicated to bad luck, though, if it -was- someone else from the mining colony who had assisted at least enough to have a records locker in this place.
Unsure how to console her and well aware that most found his kind less than comforting at the best of times between their smells, predatory business, and height, he nonetheless gave her her space and "Quaaan" 'ed at her.
Were Sito there, he might have even related his own story, in of coming back to the crawler to find the children gone and nigh on everyone he knew dead. Some unknown calamity had smashed it in, pulverized everything, disintegrated much of everyone. There was evidence someone had managed to run, but Jimmbo didn't know where if so, any more than he knew what had done it. They were alike in some respects.
Jawa being by design harder to learn than Basic, however, he could not, and instead, took the sniffling warrior outside as best he could. "Jrrrrieup."
He looked at the sunlight and shaded his glowing orange eyes as they watered up.
"I'm sorry..." Wren muttered quietly, looking in the direction of the sun as well. Being outside and away from the leafy green hell had lightened her outlook a little, enough that she was able to smile at him again and sheathe her sword across her back. She held up the stump of her elbow and sighed before shrugging. It was a price she'd had to pay, although she dearly hoped Trace or someone could put hands on another arm soon.
"I suppose this makes us both felons... Well, you twice over, at any rate. Thank you. I don't believe I'd have made it in, much less made it out without your help. Are you- Well, what will you do now? I'd hate to think of cutting loose if you're to yet carry that thing for miles." She joked.
"Seeeeal," he practiced his 'English' variant of Basic, pointing at the tube. "Rads-bad! Oy!"
"Sell," he commented after. "In...ter...netti."
"Oh! Yes, that makes sense. On EBay?" She asked, half-joking. "Well... I'll help you heft it to your ship or hiding place or what-have-you, if you'd like."
He looked down, kicking a stray flower. Fortunately an actual native island one, not one of the abomination they were fleeing. "Nnno-ship."
"Hideplace near. Jawadroid speakbetter. We go?"
"I think that would be best. The sooner we get clear of... All this, the better." Wren said, looking back at the walls and portcullis behind them. There was obviously something going on beyond and above her interests, but alone- or even with a partner- she didn't want to go back in. The Kobbers weren't due back for months, and the longer it was left, the worse the plant problem would grow.
But Wren was a soldier, not a leader, and trailed along behind the Jawa at a good clip. After his first refusal to let her help with his burden, she kept quiet and every now and then put her hand over her stump, as though she were checking to see if her arm was back yet.
"Ichiiiri obaba, nobuk mitti," he chattered, at least until darting to- more throwing himself into, really- the brush with a loud scream of "Rhhaaaaouh!" at the sight of a police vehice overhead.
Without a second thought, Wren followed him in, although a little less aggressively. Even if the forces of law and order only wanted to reclaim the thief and the power core, she'd just broken into a prison to steal something as well. There were a lot of hard questions she didn't have answers to waiting with them.
Laying down in the plant cover, she briefly debated bringing him into the Dream to lay low before dismissing the idea. Besides the fact that Trace, Jack, and likely Anne weren't fond of Jawas, she couldn't just run to Inshabel every time she had a problem. This had been personal, and it was on her to see it to the finish.
"Neither one of us are going back to prison at any time soon." She promised in a mutter, eyeing the searching vehicle and trying to see if it were just sweeping the area or actually looking for something. Or someone.
The helicopter circled the building, appearing to be studying the unprecedented growth warily rather than landing. The sirens from the breaching things breaking open fire alarms and secure areas without knowing better continued to wail, and the Jawa motioned to move slowly while their attention was elsewhere. It appeared they had come on routine from the signals, aerial being quicker than boat between islands and the corporately-owned prison and research facility itself having supposedly enough manpower to deal with most anything. They didn't yet know about the pair's specific, personal actions. But if they radioed in help, the island would be swarming with suspicious policing personnel soon. It would be best to leave as quietly and rapidly as possible.
Wren nodded to him and crept through the brush, trying to step silent just in case. Sneaking and moving quietly weren't hard for her to do after practice, although she hoped no one spotted her white hair from the air. Things had gone surprisingly well thusfar, better than she'd expected. The turn in fortune could have been moments away.
"Do you have a ship nearby?" She asked quietly, briefly kneeling to pick a flower and pocket it.
"Guhhy!" The little Jawa made the motion of an oar, then bent over to pantomime climbing into something, then made the gesture, oddly, of spinning around in circles and hurling. "Gryoy!"
When he pointed to the wharf, things became unfortunately clearer, as there were watertight barrels for transporting supplies on the docks. The little thief had used one to row, with some seasickness, to his destination.
Wren looked from the barrels, back to Jimmbo, and then back to the barrels with a sick expression. "You're joking, surely?" She asked, holding out hope until he shook his head. She could just barely fit with her head over the top and her sword sticking out, but she made it. Wren gulped and clenched her fist until her knuckles turned white. She could swim, but not that well...
Clambering in without thinking to ask whether she had a transport of her own by which she'd arrived, the Jawa gesticulated. The desert native didn't like, or trust, the ocean water, but it was necessary. As unnatural as it felt and smelled. "Croy! Ichunibanki."
As if to offer something by means of apology, he rummaged in his pouches until finding an extremely crushed and dubious looking tophat, which he offered her. A smaller, second hat fell out of its greasy interior between them.
Wren took the tophat and straightened it out, examining it and then putting it half-cocked on her head. She briefly smiled again before gulping and putting a hand to her mouth, looking a little green. They were maybe eight feet from the wharf.
Standing and trying not to crowd the Jawa by plastering herself against the opposite side, Wren crossed her fingers as they went to sea, hoping they'd end up on a familiar and safe shore.
As safe and familar a shore as came to view some hours past was not particularly either, it turned out, being the first of several floating tundra chunks.
Wren continued to shake and shiver as they bobbed up, before she hissed and gingerly got out. Stand-sitting for hours had been torture on her legs, and when she dipped her knees popped. In between her teeth chattering she adjusted her clothes and checked her sword.
"Well... I'd take this over being back among the plants." She said, lifting her wrap and scanning around with her eye.
"Tottilitotawakakakakaaki," whined the Jawa, poking at the snow in confused fear. The desert native bundled up as best he could and peered at her with huge orange eyes before asking, "G-g-g-g-g-Gee Pee Ehs? HavehaveGPS? Welostlostthink"
"No, I travel rather light. I thought I'd be in and the. out." She admitted, kicking a lump of dirt and ice off towards the nothing out there. She swallowed and then sighed, sliding her wrap over her mouth. "We need to find shelter... I hate to, but I don't think we've much choice anymore. I'll have to call home."
"Well, it won't matter if we freeze. I hope there aren't bears around, that wouldn't do. There are trees over there, but they look dead... Hmm. Help me find a spot without wind. We ought to get away from the ocean anyway." She said, before an errant wave splashed up and soaked her boots through. She clenched her toes and pursed her lips.
He clambered out and beelined for the dead trees, setting to against them with the paddle until a small, slightly frigid branch broke off. He set it like a wall and looked up at her and her big sword. "Cutmake notfreeze?"
"Yes- They look brittle, but they'll do. Can you start a fire? I'll get this sorted..." She said, gathering some longish branches from the ground and setting them across in a lean. She snapped a few of them to layer it together, but after linking to another tree she had a six foot space that was covered except at one end, like a rectangular wooden teepee.
She wiped her hand on her pants before seeing how Jimmbo was getting on and laying her sword next to her while she scanned the wastes. It was too quiet for her liking.
After partially disassembling a pocket watch in a bag, the scavenger rotated the machines with a pen knife and ground the tiny gears rapidly against a twig until sparks began to fly, then to catch. He carefully sheparded the flame to the much larger heat source and replaced his extremely makeshift-and-probably-stolen tools with a joyful "UTINI!" as the searing fire began to spread. The noise attracted notice, as did the heat, a great, mildly frost ridden shape looming up out of the snow. Not a bear, nay, but a truly, utterly, shockingly fat seal.
A lion seal, rather, albeit a monstrously large one, obesity aside, even. Close on to thirty feet of length stared out at the pair hungrily, the fire reflected in its huge limpid eyes as the Jawa's dancing turned to cowering.
Wren immediately put herself between the Jawa and the seal, flourishing her sword once before keeping it by her side. She eyed it back grimly, focusing on the teeth the size of her blade and gulping.
"Keep near the fire. If it comes for us, I'll fight it here amongst the trees and draw it's head away from you." She said, much more solidly than she felt. "I can drive it away, perhaps, but I doubt my chances of killing it." She set herself and her long blade, slowly taking sideways steps to put herself at an angle to the fat seal.
Deceptively slowly it ponderously flopped in until the moment it struck with surprising speed. Lurching and feinting a bite to the right, the great thing slapped at her with its left fore flipper as the Jawa chittered and huddled next to the fire before rummaging at his tool pockets again and all but screaming. Finally, he pulled out some greasy rags, trusting in the one handed swordswoman, and a bottle of industrial grade cleansing oil, and ignited both before throwing them at the creature and flailing with impotent desire to assist in the task of not-getting-eaten.
Wren nimbly danced away from the flipper, stepping back and then leaping forward with her sword in a stab. The metal punched through easily enough- but the seal's blubbery hide was deep enough that the wound wasn't that deep. It's return chomp nearly clipped her, but she crouched low to the ground in time. Whirling over behind a tree, she paused and took stock of their situation.
Briefly darting out left, she went right instead, trying to sidle around and attack it from a less mouthy area. Again cursing her arm as she almost tripped on a stick, she once more ran toward it with her blade at the ready.
"Khaziiiiiik!" Jimmbo cried, impaling the flaming things starting to smoulder out on the snow on a stick for the firewood and stabbing the sea creature's tongue when it turned to try to shoulder rush and crush Wren. The lowing sound of startled pain almost made the cowardly thing feel glad as he ran through its thrashing limbs and back to the safety of the fire as she'd ordered in the first place, hands over his head and cowering, although not so much so as to not already be beginning to rig more painful little things to deter the predator. Jawas had not survived so long by fighting head on, or by not fighting at all.
Ducking and dodging weren't enough; a misstep saw Wren slapped hard by it's tail, sending her flying and landing on her back beside Jimmbo. Getting up with a wince, she turned on her heel and smashed the tip of her sword through another bottle of cleaner before stabbing the fire. Parts of her blade caught alight, and she turned back to the fight with a worried frown.
Once more she stabbed and used her long, long weapon like a screen, keeping the edge and tip ready to keep attacking while still moving and trying to force it away from Iimmbo and her both.
Looking to her bravery and away, the scavenger wrestled with his thoughts for only a moment. Valuables would not help him if he was too dead to claim them. She was a fearsome warrior, and one that, one armed, might still be able to best the creature, but she would be hurt badly, maybe even die. And for what? For him? She hadn't had to help him. She hadn't even known there was anything wrong in the facility. He already wouldn't have the reactor if not for her.
It almost singed his brain to think it, but maybe a friend was worth more than treasure, and this treasure could possibly keep her alive.
When the seal next opened its mouth, Jimmbo hurled the purloined portable down its maw alongside the last remnants of their pitiable little fire in the snow before tackling her. And bouncing off. There was no way he could knock her out of the blast radius, certainly the gamma one. Fortunately for both, the thing was fat enough to contain both... if not the smell of char.
Wren blinked, and then blinked again before sitting up and taking a deep breath-
"Hrrrrrrrrrrgh." She groaned, her shoulders drawing up in distress. She was covered in seal from head to toe, and the wet warmth felt hideous. She shuddered and shot to her feet, looking over at the thing that had been a seal not that long ago before spotting Jimmbo. Cleaning her sword off and sheathing it, she wiped swathes of gore off her as she staggered over.
"We did it!... Hooraaay." She smiled weakly. "That was good thinking. Thank you. I'd been wondering if my luck had finally completely ran out. I don't suppose you could repair..."
Wren sat back down, feeling woozy. She was having trouble catching her breath, and she briefly closed her eyes and bowed her head to get herself back together.
Jimmbo groaned from the ground back, not at all in an understandable language, and shivered. His geiger counter was beginning to sound off like the percussion for a modern intense metal band. Crawling and hoping this world didn't sport wampas, he patted her sitting shoulder and shook for warmth.
Wren flinched away from his touch before looking apologetic, finally standing and making her way to the shelter. It had survived the fight, although it was leaning against the tree a fair bit more. She turned back to him and sighed.
"I think if there's a time to call home, it would be now. You can watch if you'd like, but, er... Keep an open mind?" She suggested, before going inside. Once amongst the sticks Wren drew a circle on the ground and began drawing lines with her finger. A rough door shape took center stage, surrounded by orbs and lines of power. Wren began to mutter something, a simple unending cant that rose and fell seemingly at random. Outside, the fire turned pink.
Having no wit or ken of magic beyond the dealings of his people's Shamans, and very little of that, the Jawa watched with mixed trepidation and doubt, and a sprinkling of curiosity.
As the circle began to run like molten silver, a simple pink orb appeared in it's center. It looked like a pearl, and didn't move except to silently float. Wren let out a sigh of relief and knelt closer to whisper.
"Inshabel? It's me. I think I've found my way into a bind. I and... A friend need help."
She paused and listened to something like wind chimes before nodding.
"Alright. I'll see you soon... Thank you." She said, turning to him as the orb winked away into nothing. "There's an ice fishing shack nearby, to the east; if we can reach the door, we'll be safe. Do you think we can make it?"
The orange eyes inside the hood threatened to bug out, but he retained his sanity and nodded instead, before the shivering thing picked up one of the burning sticks and stuck close to the swordswoman's leg. She would be the one to know where it was, after all.
Wren raced by the bars, silent as a shadow.
Out of all her house, she preferred to work alone; it was safer and easier that way. Used to her law of averages, she was sharp and prepared in the field, like now. After entering through the basement she'd snuck her way along, purposefully not drawing her sword as she made her way to the records room deeper inside. The sooner she found out what she wanted to know, the better. Only Inshabel even knew she was here instead of still in her room.
She paused and backpedalled, craning into the cell. Blindfolded, she could still see anything about out to ten feet, like a bat but with vibrations from the floor.
The voice in the cell was as miserable as it was high pitched and squeaky. "Kowarrtowaaaa. Hoobini."
Glowing eyes turned, and hands were suddenly grasping the bars, as an urgent whisper sounded out. "Utini!"
"...oh, dear lord." Wren muttered, backing away and grimacing. Everything had been going so well, but this was a curveball. She hadn't seen any Jawas other than the ones that had gutted her house, both before and after. Her memories weren't very fond. She knew this particular one probably had nothing to do with all that, but her first reflex was to flinch for her sword.
"Well, what's one of you doing here?.... What is one of you doing here? What did you steal?" She asked, crouching and then turning her head to take in the sleeping guard. She didn't plan on dawdling long.
"Gawaa! Gin ti so nyo ukk ukkitidiniiii!"
The absolutely miserable looking protocol droid head on the creature's belt spoke up. "He wishes to violently protest the word steal. He is lying, if by technicality. He was locked up here for -trying- to unsuccessfully steal the miniature nuclear fusion core matrix concealed in the records room. That they didn't kill him is a wonder and a half, honestly."
"Hroy! EeeWaaa!"
"I know I could be disassembled further, you horrid little rodent. At this point I would welcome it. You have not known pain, ma'am, until your existence has been reduced to bobbing at a Jawa's crotch level with no hands and nothing to cleanse the problem. I assure you."
"Reaaawwrrh," begged the Jawa.
"Nonetheless, while the punishment is better than he likely deserves, my programming compels me to inform you he is trying to bargain his way out with you. Directly with you, in the sense of leaving, although also to you in the sense of the pitch."
Wren kept her face deliberately blank as she processed and worked through what she'd been told. Her first inclination was to move on and leave him behind without another word, but that would've been a rather cold thing to do. Besides, from what she'd heard, he'd already been where she was heading. It made the back of her neck prickle and her shoulders tense, but she still leaned forward to whisper.
"You ought to keep your hands to yourself... Alright, well, hmm. It seems we can help each other; I need to find my way to where they keep the records and you both want a way out of there. What can you offer me in return?" She murmured levelly.
"...You aren't to be executed, are you?"
"RowwwwwBottz!" the Jawa tried, the word mangled but recognizable eventually as robots. "Nooo die! Ga-waaii!"
He ran about in circles, and the snores, abruptly, began to hitch and stop.
Wren's mouth twitch before she snapped her gaze over to the guard, springing up and flattening herself against the opposite empty cell's door, hiding behind the stone lip. It was flimsy, but it was better than starting a problem she couldn't handle without being ready. Putting her fake hand on her sword's hilt, she looked back over and across to the Jawa at the other bars.
She lifted her wrap to peer at him, undecided; He was small, and cute, and lost, which melted her heart, but he was also a thief and potentially would murder her when her back was turned. Something she'd said to Trace murmured in her memory, and she heaved a silent sigh. She looked at the Jawa, nodded, and have him an unsure smile before putting a finger to her lips and tensing as she listened to track the guard. She couldn't yet see him.
Slow, lumbering foot steps sounded before a very large man of a mongoloid bent appeared in view, bleary eyed and of rumpled uniform. "Why do you squeak so loudly, you little rat thing?" came the complaint, as he bent down to peer at the alien. "You have your food. You have a bed. Toilet. That's a seriously good deal, given the boss could have just shot you. It's not like you even had to go through a trial or anything. Why can't you just let a guy nap?"
He scratched his nose and looked at the squid tattoo on his wrist before sighing. "Fine. You win. I'll just have to patrol instead. Thanks for making us both miserable."
"Houdini!"
"Your mother, man."
She poked her head out and watched him leave, waiting for the sounds of footsteps to fully fade before walking back over to the Jawa's cell to stare down at him.
"I think I will free you, after thinking it over. But after that, we'll be heading deeper in. I need to see the records they keep here- and you'll help me find them before we leave. That's all. Please don't make me regret this." She said frankly. "My name is Wren. Who are you both?"
"...How am I to get you out of there?" She continued, looking over at the lock and frowning.
"You couldn't pronounce his name. He goes by-"
"Jimhbuohwaaohtiiiiiinii!"
"Jimmbo. Just call the thing Jimmbo. I am C-2ZI, Seetwo if you will. Sito if you feel especially like personifying, but really, at this point I would settle for just a chassis so I could curl up and emulate crying," the depressed droid head answered. "I believe the door has a mechanism latch to the upper right, at forty one degrees and six feet. It is very likely sealed, of course. "
Wren studied the lock and tried the handle just in case, but it didn't budge; she scuffed it with her foot and wished she hadn't left the little kit Trace had made for her at home. It seemed an older style retrofitted for modern use, or she guessed, having never been here before. Opening it without a key wasn't just a matter of picking it. A rough plan took shape in her mind as she looked back over at the chair the Guard had left.
"It's very nice to meet you both, or it would be in nicer circumstances. I think I could swipe the keys from the guard, with a little luck, but before we begin you both ought to know- it could be dangerous for you. Bad things happen around me, and you'll be safer in... Your... Prison cell. Erm, well, nevermind. I don't suppose you've much choice, really." She said, shrugging and smiling again. "I'll be back quickly one way or another. Keep your fingers crossed."
After she'd set off, moving quickly and quietly, she looked around for any guard she could spot. All she needed was one- one to have drop their keys, or misplace them, or leave them sitting on a counter. Bad luck wasn't as terrible when it was equal, since misery loved company. Ideally her sword wouldn't even come out.
"Man, this is not what I expected when I signed up to work as a mook at a corrupt organization," the guard muttered audibly the other way, padding around with mildly surprising quiet other than his footfalls and voice. "Especially with the whole exotic Pacific island thing. Cracked had me thinking I'd be sipping martinis and enjoying the beachfront until a James Bond type came by, and then I'd probably die in some exciting way. This tour has been about as boring as working at Morpheus was, though. It'd be almost identical if all I was doing was sitting and pointing a pistol at a brain in a jar or someone in a submersion bath for twelve hours straight."
"If it wasn't for the dental, I might bug off to the Kobbers instead when they get back in town, jeeze."
Within his desk, not far from where she'd entered, really, were a set of electronic card keys.
Wren paused and considered her position; A prison system was one thing, but the fact that so far she'd seen barely any prisoners- enough to make Jimmbo stand out- made her wonder how corrupt the organization was. It made it less likely she'd be arrested and detained if discovered and more murky as to the results. If nothing else, she ought to have the House look in to it, assuming she succeeded.
Finding the keys wasn't hard- once she snuck close to the drawer she spotted them and then pulled it open with a wince before heading back quickly. Once at the cell, she opened the door and put the keys on her belt before holding it for the Jawa.
"So!... What were you going to steal the core matrix for? You're not the sort to just snatch an innocent droid-" her eyes flicked to Seetwo to him and then back. "-are you?"
"Kekketiyy, dosh quo nininni, towoy."
"The bad men had a really powerful device for powering their purposes."
"Hykkban trghaak ououh ga!"
"Once he sold the device, they would be weaker with nothing keeping their devices on, and then he could take their other things as scrap and sell them. As a 'good' act. If they didn't have spares."
"Jikk jikk borrobi!"
"No one in law enforcement knows about this place or the records yet. And a nuke is not easy to ignore as evidence goes. Besides making him wealthier, it'd be a solid reason to put some investigation into what they'd need it for."
"Hiiiiiiiighaaaaaaaaiiii!"
"Oh dear. The guard is standing behind you with a truncheon."
Wren whirled on her heel and threw her fake arm out and up; she wasn't trying to catch the weapon, just smack the guard's forearm or hand away from her, like pushing someone down in an already seated position. She backpedalled and put her hands up, holding them open rather than in fists. She had to do this quick and quiet- one guard might not have been a problem, but there were many, many more of them then there were of her.
"Hello. I'm very sorry about all this, but it couldn't be helped." She said simply, before lunging in. She batted away punches and checked him by kicking his knee when he'd come forward or his stomach when he'd rally; until she could pick the exact moment to land a decisive blow, she wouldn't batter a man just trying to do his job. He was bigger than her, but she was quicker, and more skilled. It fell on her to stay out of range.
Lashing out, she kicked the hand holding the club before she slipped to the right and threw a left hook.
Down he went like a sack of potatoes, although perhaps more feigned than real. Looking good for the cameras? He certainly didn't seem to be all that interested in actually bringing bloodshed to either ofthem.
Wren looked from her flame-carved wooden knuckles to the man's jaw, a little surprised that had worked at all before picking up the truncheon and tucking it in her belt. She paused and then dragged him against the wall before she turned back to the Jawa.
"...before us is the administrative wing, and to the right is another row of cells. Further back should be more cells, but many are empty. The same here... What is this place? Why did they need that advanced of a power generator?" She asked, walking over and spotting a vending machine. She patted herself before realizing she had no change and frowning.
"Here. You ought to have this." She said, holding out the club to him and trying to seem offhand about it.
"Kikikikikoawwwwwaarhhh."
"Why does a corporation need cells or a semi-remote island location?"
"Jiiinjik jup japee!"
"To do things to and with people that they don't want known about. Say, powering medical stasis pods to conduct hands on experiments, or selling what's left afterward. Organs go for a pretty penny in some places, and provable vaccines, well."
Wren closed her mouth, still shocked and troubled. She slowly paced in place before suddenly perking up and facepalming. "That's why it was such smooth goings! Nothing went wrong because it had gone wrong from the moment I started... Well, fiddlesticks." She cursed.
"I'll level with you; I was after a picture in their records, that was all. It's- well, the last one of my father. The very last one. But I think this has become too dangerous to push forward without any assistance. I'd hate to be captured and shot in a windowless room... Let's look around and then leave just as quickly as we can." She said, drawing her sword. It was a katana, but it was almost as long as she was.
Taking the club and following in the odachi wielding woman's wake, the tiny Jawa muttered to himself and tried not to stick his gloved hands in the electric boxes. It was a difficult temptation to ignore. So much to sell. But the bigger prize lay ahead. Although... this time if they caught the alien rooting around, they probably wouldn't keep him alive for testing and risk a third attempt.
The picture in their records and the fusion device would have to go a long way to equal to an exit, by Jimmbo's estimation, but he owed her for loosing him, and he always paid his debts. Fully, occasionally with interest. It was business.
Wren moved quickly and with purpose, like she'd planned out each step in advance. She darted her way through the facility, cautious and alert. Being able to see around corners helped, and so far, her rough plan to keep moving and remain unseen was working. The only problem was, the deeper they went the more guards would be present. A fight in might be avoidable, but she readied herself for the race and fight out she thought she felt coming.
Pausing behind a wall, she held up her hand and watched the man on the other side before he turned around and she waved forward, running between the gap and flattening herself once again. Behind them, the guard dropped his weapon and cursed.
Taking direction from Jimmbo, she led the way deeper in, waiting on pins and needles for things to go wrong.
Further up, and further in. Further through and further on. Every moment dripped sweat and tension, yet the building seemed, beyond token guards, almost fairly well abandoned. Certainly less active than anyone actively monitoring cameras ought to be, particularly after a recent burglary. Where -were- all of them?
The lack of prisoners, guards, and personnel were playing on her nerves; where'd taken comfort from the silence, it now seemed as oppressive as a crypt. Empty cells yawned, and it felt like danger lurked the less in evidence it was. Kneeling down behind a stand of lockers, she looked askance at Jimmbo.
"...Where is everyone? This isn't a new prison, there ought to have been at least a token few-" She looked around and then back, putting it together and horrified. "Seetwo, tell me they weren't using the free human supply here for their work. They can't have just gotten away with something like that."
"I am unfortunately not programmed with the capacity to lie, madam. Nor to conjecture. I do not know why their own staff is equally missing."
"I don't like this at all..." Wren muttered, continuing on. She waited until a guard passed before skulking around another corner.
The next corner revealed a radically alien environment, flora growing from the walls and metal floors in thick, heavy coatings. Moss, fungi, and glowing flowers cast their thick shadows across overgrown filing cabinets and broken doorways. A thick bark laden root wedged open an elevator.
This was made all the more clearly unnatural for either office or Kuwahawi outside by the red pine growing out of a very startled looking corpse's back in a guardsman uniform.
"Fgui!?"
"This wasn't here last time. Just clinical environments. I would advise further caution, madame. It seems the plants kill."
A thorny tendril roiled into the hallway they'd just crossed and elicited a shriek of surprise and pain from the guard whose notice they'd avoided. The Jawa looked around it for any trace of gunfire or the individual, and promptly proceeded to vomit.
"Are you going to be okay?" Wren asked, lifting her wrap up so one eye was exposed. Examining the environment tensed her up from how bad things had grown. Kneeling, she poked the moss with her sword tip before tracing the path to the stairs. She'd expected medical monsters and savage beasts, not a forestscape that acted predatory.
"...Be on your toes. If it gets too bad we'll leave." She said forebodingly, before picking a path through the loam.
Not having expected for either, the desert scavenger grappled with terror, confusion, and revulsion before he screwed his courage to the sticking place and followed her, albeit not without a long and nigh incessent stream of underbreath groaning. Things had seemed to be going so well when the first guard was oblivious and personable. Now he almost wondered if the cage had been safer... but that thought was dashed by the seed pods burgeoning through a shattered reinforced door. At one time, it would have been the opening to the laboratory and records wing. Now, it looked like something straight from Nurgle's better homes and gardens, or Jumunji.
Wren moved like a heron, carefully placing her steps to make sure she could draw back if she needed to. She was careful not to cut any plants with her blade, just in case every surface around them was in communication. Inshabel's gardens aside, she didn't have much experience with greenery, and so was unfamiliar with many overlarge flowers and thorned roots.
"...the air is humid." She whispered, creeping along and waiting for the inevitable attack.
When it did, she received some small forewarning, if scarcely. Ahead of them drifted a small, nigh on invisible cloud, scarcely notable spores and filigree. They induced the nervous looking man with the flamethrower and labcoat into beginning to sneeze violently before the very edge of his nose began to warp outward and shred with bulbous flora, thick roots embedding in his skull and wiggling like grotesquely engorged veins as the parasite spread. He fired wildly, literally and figuratively, as he spasmed in pain, and rather than become completely subsumed despite the visible progress, he caught the spores alight. And the roots. The flowers.
Almost immediately, seven mossy carcasses that were presumably former coworkers lurched out of the browning greenery to assault him, thorns swept wildly, and a great maw in the roof opened its sundew petals to bite him in half with its vegetative presure before downing the burning and lurching again, like a venus flytrap with actual lethal force.
"Don't... breathe... in," warned Sito, perhaps redundantly.
Wren nodded in slow horror before wrapping her cloth across her nose and mouth instead. Her eyes were very green and very concerned as she watched the room reset itself to tranquility, like the ice over a lake filled with the dead.
Heart hammering in her ears, when the vine shot out to wrap around her sword, the first thing she did was cringe back in expectation of death; trying to yank it back, she watched other, smaller vines break away from the main mass to ensnare her arm. She was caught in a tug-of-war before shifting her blade to her free hand and hacking her prosthetic off at the elbow. Watching it be bundled away, she ran a hand through her hair, cursed, and then spat on the ground.
"I liked that arm, damn you!" She yelled after the plants, shaking her sword at them. She couldn't shake her fist without dropping it.
Hardly thinking he could best such things with a nightstick he'd seen fail a guard already, Jimmbo used her distraction to take the flamethrower, itself quite as large and as heavy as the little Jawa. With a few twists, he wrapped Sito's "jaws" around it instead of the belt and slowly nudged him across one way before heading the other himself. He waved her on behind him desperately as the droid, with a weary, world resigned sigh, opened fire well away from the pair on the way to records and the last evidences.
Wren watched the gouts of fire incinerate plants before she hurried after Jimmbo, jumping a moment before the moss under her collapsed into a dark pit. She took a breath behind her impromptu mask before shoving a small tree aside and ducking some low-hanging fruit.
"It's becoming a jungle in here. I don't think the rest of the facility has much longer before it's green too." She said, using her sword to shove a battalion of ferns to the left and out of his way.
Although his translator was gone, or would be in very short order seeing the hostility of the plants, Jimmbo's squeaks were in no way unidentifiable as agreement with her statement. On the other hand, after bustling through and battling a brigade of semimobile mushrooms, the records room was in sight. Some sort of odd field emitter was translating and transmitting gamma radiation in such a frequency as perturbed the plants, not out and out killing them, but causing enough damage to the complex cellular communications network that allowed for their shared mentality, a 'internet' as much as 'hive mind' between the entities, that it preferred avoiding it altogether.
An odd field emitter that had, funnily enough, powered the devices that helped enable them in the first place, and, though damaged enough to leak now, both Wren and Jimmbo had been aware of and after in the first place.
The mini nuclear reactor might well hurt them greatly, but it might equally save their lives long enough to grab and run.
Wren's face brightened at the sight of safety, and she smiled as she wiped chunks of white fungi off her boots and blade. After bending and eyeing the reactor with the critical eye of someone who knew nothing about reactors, she hurried to the files and left Jimmbo at it.
"Stan, Stann, Stano, where's..." She muttered, yanking another drawer open and riffling through it's contents. Her search became more frantic as she went on, flipping through folders in a frenzy. Only after pulling a box and sending it to the floor did she stop, downcast. It wasn't there. It had all been for noth-
Wren blinked down at a folder on the ground before picking it up and looking at a face she hadn't seen in years. Her father looked like her, the same sort of pointy chin and her nose. He wasn't smiling in the photo, and the picture was blurry, or it was until she wiped her eyes. Folding the mug shot carefully, she pocketed it before making her way back to the Jawa.
"...Do you need any help?" She asked, quietly pleased.
The Jawa struggled with the reactor core, but toted it well enough, replying with a mildly tired "Utini!"
Then he stopped and took stock of her with the photo and the wrecked desks, and his tone became entirely more bewildered and inquisitive. "Upujikajawah?"
What was this photo from? How had she known it would be here, although she'd mentioned knowing it was and coming for it? Why did she want it? Did she not possess others? Why? Why was it here? What connection did it have with this place? Who was this man, beyond the known quantity of being her parent? Did he have anything to do with this, or was it a reminescance of someone who had known him in the past? What were their feelings toward him if so?
None of these were questions the little alien could even field, but given that the large woman (at least comparably to his viewpoint) with the prosthetic had gotten him out of the cage and kept him from being plant food, he wasn't as inclined to suspicion of her as he might have been otherwise. Instead he muttered and paced out slowly towards the plants, letting the field wave affect them as he trudged his way out. He tried to make sure she remained in the safe radius as he did. "Jik! Jik!" Close! Close!
Wren heard the questions in his voice, but it took a little gathering of herself to try and answer. Circumstances, her personality, and the fact that bad things happened around her kept her closed bound. Focusing on sticking to him like glue and avoiding desiccating plant matter let her map out what to tell a relative stranger.
"...A long while ago- maybe not that long, where I lay my head, the time is weird- I was something like a princess. Not, er, actually royalty, or anything, but my father was the great, great, many many greats grandson of the man who claimed and settled my former home. It was a sizable asteroid that was over seventy percent precious metals, silver being the chief among them. Rather a frontier sort of place." She said, stepping over a wilting tree that weakly reached out to grab her boots. "It wasn't as big as some rocks I've heard about, but there was plenty of ground to cover. We all stayed in the interior tunnels, the surface was more of a tourist trap..."
Flicking a mushroom out of their way with her sword, she continued. "No illusions; I liked my life. It was simple and good. I had everything a girl could want, and more besides. I remember my parents were even going to buy me a little skimmer for my eighteenth birthday. Something to flit around the system and broaden my horizons. My mother never wanted the same sort of life for me." She briefly smiled before it died by degrees.
"...We dug too deep and woke something terrible. I think now our mines were it's prison... My last sight of home was leaving in an escape pod with my friend Inshabel, watching while it cracked and then shattered. Soundlessly. It just... Drifted apart. At first there were explosions and fires, but eventually they stopped." She swallowed. "I have a locket with my mother's picture, and one of her and my father together, but none of only him. It's silly, I know, but... I miss him. I miss them both." She said, pulling her wrap back over her eyes to hide behind.
Although fleeing for safety took priority, he listened with some degree of interest, not being all that familiar with human colonists or their relationships. Or that there were so many spacers around. Most of the beings that the Jawa group he had been with had met and sold to were one planet rubes if they were around these parts, barring one or two sales outward. It did come some degree to explaining how the picture had gotten here and this Inshabel figure knowing, as well, if more of the survivors or people related to them had migrated to the same place. They did seem to be absolutely predicated to bad luck, though, if it -was- someone else from the mining colony who had assisted at least enough to have a records locker in this place.
Unsure how to console her and well aware that most found his kind less than comforting at the best of times between their smells, predatory business, and height, he nonetheless gave her her space and "Quaaan" 'ed at her.
Were Sito there, he might have even related his own story, in of coming back to the crawler to find the children gone and nigh on everyone he knew dead. Some unknown calamity had smashed it in, pulverized everything, disintegrated much of everyone. There was evidence someone had managed to run, but Jimmbo didn't know where if so, any more than he knew what had done it. They were alike in some respects.
Jawa being by design harder to learn than Basic, however, he could not, and instead, took the sniffling warrior outside as best he could. "Jrrrrieup."
He looked at the sunlight and shaded his glowing orange eyes as they watered up.
"I'm sorry..." Wren muttered quietly, looking in the direction of the sun as well. Being outside and away from the leafy green hell had lightened her outlook a little, enough that she was able to smile at him again and sheathe her sword across her back. She held up the stump of her elbow and sighed before shrugging. It was a price she'd had to pay, although she dearly hoped Trace or someone could put hands on another arm soon.
"I suppose this makes us both felons... Well, you twice over, at any rate. Thank you. I don't believe I'd have made it in, much less made it out without your help. Are you- Well, what will you do now? I'd hate to think of cutting loose if you're to yet carry that thing for miles." She joked.
"Seeeeal," he practiced his 'English' variant of Basic, pointing at the tube. "Rads-bad! Oy!"
"Sell," he commented after. "In...ter...netti."
"Oh! Yes, that makes sense. On EBay?" She asked, half-joking. "Well... I'll help you heft it to your ship or hiding place or what-have-you, if you'd like."
He looked down, kicking a stray flower. Fortunately an actual native island one, not one of the abomination they were fleeing. "Nnno-ship."
"Hideplace near. Jawadroid speakbetter. We go?"
"I think that would be best. The sooner we get clear of... All this, the better." Wren said, looking back at the walls and portcullis behind them. There was obviously something going on beyond and above her interests, but alone- or even with a partner- she didn't want to go back in. The Kobbers weren't due back for months, and the longer it was left, the worse the plant problem would grow.
But Wren was a soldier, not a leader, and trailed along behind the Jawa at a good clip. After his first refusal to let her help with his burden, she kept quiet and every now and then put her hand over her stump, as though she were checking to see if her arm was back yet.
"Ichiiiri obaba, nobuk mitti," he chattered, at least until darting to- more throwing himself into, really- the brush with a loud scream of "Rhhaaaaouh!" at the sight of a police vehice overhead.
Without a second thought, Wren followed him in, although a little less aggressively. Even if the forces of law and order only wanted to reclaim the thief and the power core, she'd just broken into a prison to steal something as well. There were a lot of hard questions she didn't have answers to waiting with them.
Laying down in the plant cover, she briefly debated bringing him into the Dream to lay low before dismissing the idea. Besides the fact that Trace, Jack, and likely Anne weren't fond of Jawas, she couldn't just run to Inshabel every time she had a problem. This had been personal, and it was on her to see it to the finish.
"Neither one of us are going back to prison at any time soon." She promised in a mutter, eyeing the searching vehicle and trying to see if it were just sweeping the area or actually looking for something. Or someone.
The helicopter circled the building, appearing to be studying the unprecedented growth warily rather than landing. The sirens from the breaching things breaking open fire alarms and secure areas without knowing better continued to wail, and the Jawa motioned to move slowly while their attention was elsewhere. It appeared they had come on routine from the signals, aerial being quicker than boat between islands and the corporately-owned prison and research facility itself having supposedly enough manpower to deal with most anything. They didn't yet know about the pair's specific, personal actions. But if they radioed in help, the island would be swarming with suspicious policing personnel soon. It would be best to leave as quietly and rapidly as possible.
Wren nodded to him and crept through the brush, trying to step silent just in case. Sneaking and moving quietly weren't hard for her to do after practice, although she hoped no one spotted her white hair from the air. Things had gone surprisingly well thusfar, better than she'd expected. The turn in fortune could have been moments away.
"Do you have a ship nearby?" She asked quietly, briefly kneeling to pick a flower and pocket it.
"Guhhy!" The little Jawa made the motion of an oar, then bent over to pantomime climbing into something, then made the gesture, oddly, of spinning around in circles and hurling. "Gryoy!"
When he pointed to the wharf, things became unfortunately clearer, as there were watertight barrels for transporting supplies on the docks. The little thief had used one to row, with some seasickness, to his destination.
Wren looked from the barrels, back to Jimmbo, and then back to the barrels with a sick expression. "You're joking, surely?" She asked, holding out hope until he shook his head. She could just barely fit with her head over the top and her sword sticking out, but she made it. Wren gulped and clenched her fist until her knuckles turned white. She could swim, but not that well...
Clambering in without thinking to ask whether she had a transport of her own by which she'd arrived, the Jawa gesticulated. The desert native didn't like, or trust, the ocean water, but it was necessary. As unnatural as it felt and smelled. "Croy! Ichunibanki."
As if to offer something by means of apology, he rummaged in his pouches until finding an extremely crushed and dubious looking tophat, which he offered her. A smaller, second hat fell out of its greasy interior between them.
Wren took the tophat and straightened it out, examining it and then putting it half-cocked on her head. She briefly smiled again before gulping and putting a hand to her mouth, looking a little green. They were maybe eight feet from the wharf.
Standing and trying not to crowd the Jawa by plastering herself against the opposite side, Wren crossed her fingers as they went to sea, hoping they'd end up on a familiar and safe shore.
As safe and familar a shore as came to view some hours past was not particularly either, it turned out, being the first of several floating tundra chunks.
Wren continued to shake and shiver as they bobbed up, before she hissed and gingerly got out. Stand-sitting for hours had been torture on her legs, and when she dipped her knees popped. In between her teeth chattering she adjusted her clothes and checked her sword.
"Well... I'd take this over being back among the plants." She said, lifting her wrap and scanning around with her eye.
"Tottilitotawakakakakaaki," whined the Jawa, poking at the snow in confused fear. The desert native bundled up as best he could and peered at her with huge orange eyes before asking, "G-g-g-g-g-Gee Pee Ehs? HavehaveGPS? Welostlostthink"
"No, I travel rather light. I thought I'd be in and the. out." She admitted, kicking a lump of dirt and ice off towards the nothing out there. She swallowed and then sighed, sliding her wrap over her mouth. "We need to find shelter... I hate to, but I don't think we've much choice anymore. I'll have to call home."
"Well, it won't matter if we freeze. I hope there aren't bears around, that wouldn't do. There are trees over there, but they look dead... Hmm. Help me find a spot without wind. We ought to get away from the ocean anyway." She said, before an errant wave splashed up and soaked her boots through. She clenched her toes and pursed her lips.
He clambered out and beelined for the dead trees, setting to against them with the paddle until a small, slightly frigid branch broke off. He set it like a wall and looked up at her and her big sword. "Cutmake notfreeze?"
"Yes- They look brittle, but they'll do. Can you start a fire? I'll get this sorted..." She said, gathering some longish branches from the ground and setting them across in a lean. She snapped a few of them to layer it together, but after linking to another tree she had a six foot space that was covered except at one end, like a rectangular wooden teepee.
She wiped her hand on her pants before seeing how Jimmbo was getting on and laying her sword next to her while she scanned the wastes. It was too quiet for her liking.
After partially disassembling a pocket watch in a bag, the scavenger rotated the machines with a pen knife and ground the tiny gears rapidly against a twig until sparks began to fly, then to catch. He carefully sheparded the flame to the much larger heat source and replaced his extremely makeshift-and-probably-stolen tools with a joyful "UTINI!" as the searing fire began to spread. The noise attracted notice, as did the heat, a great, mildly frost ridden shape looming up out of the snow. Not a bear, nay, but a truly, utterly, shockingly fat seal.
A lion seal, rather, albeit a monstrously large one, obesity aside, even. Close on to thirty feet of length stared out at the pair hungrily, the fire reflected in its huge limpid eyes as the Jawa's dancing turned to cowering.
Wren immediately put herself between the Jawa and the seal, flourishing her sword once before keeping it by her side. She eyed it back grimly, focusing on the teeth the size of her blade and gulping.
"Keep near the fire. If it comes for us, I'll fight it here amongst the trees and draw it's head away from you." She said, much more solidly than she felt. "I can drive it away, perhaps, but I doubt my chances of killing it." She set herself and her long blade, slowly taking sideways steps to put herself at an angle to the fat seal.
Deceptively slowly it ponderously flopped in until the moment it struck with surprising speed. Lurching and feinting a bite to the right, the great thing slapped at her with its left fore flipper as the Jawa chittered and huddled next to the fire before rummaging at his tool pockets again and all but screaming. Finally, he pulled out some greasy rags, trusting in the one handed swordswoman, and a bottle of industrial grade cleansing oil, and ignited both before throwing them at the creature and flailing with impotent desire to assist in the task of not-getting-eaten.
Wren nimbly danced away from the flipper, stepping back and then leaping forward with her sword in a stab. The metal punched through easily enough- but the seal's blubbery hide was deep enough that the wound wasn't that deep. It's return chomp nearly clipped her, but she crouched low to the ground in time. Whirling over behind a tree, she paused and took stock of their situation.
Briefly darting out left, she went right instead, trying to sidle around and attack it from a less mouthy area. Again cursing her arm as she almost tripped on a stick, she once more ran toward it with her blade at the ready.
"Khaziiiiiik!" Jimmbo cried, impaling the flaming things starting to smoulder out on the snow on a stick for the firewood and stabbing the sea creature's tongue when it turned to try to shoulder rush and crush Wren. The lowing sound of startled pain almost made the cowardly thing feel glad as he ran through its thrashing limbs and back to the safety of the fire as she'd ordered in the first place, hands over his head and cowering, although not so much so as to not already be beginning to rig more painful little things to deter the predator. Jawas had not survived so long by fighting head on, or by not fighting at all.
Ducking and dodging weren't enough; a misstep saw Wren slapped hard by it's tail, sending her flying and landing on her back beside Jimmbo. Getting up with a wince, she turned on her heel and smashed the tip of her sword through another bottle of cleaner before stabbing the fire. Parts of her blade caught alight, and she turned back to the fight with a worried frown.
Once more she stabbed and used her long, long weapon like a screen, keeping the edge and tip ready to keep attacking while still moving and trying to force it away from Iimmbo and her both.
Looking to her bravery and away, the scavenger wrestled with his thoughts for only a moment. Valuables would not help him if he was too dead to claim them. She was a fearsome warrior, and one that, one armed, might still be able to best the creature, but she would be hurt badly, maybe even die. And for what? For him? She hadn't had to help him. She hadn't even known there was anything wrong in the facility. He already wouldn't have the reactor if not for her.
It almost singed his brain to think it, but maybe a friend was worth more than treasure, and this treasure could possibly keep her alive.
When the seal next opened its mouth, Jimmbo hurled the purloined portable down its maw alongside the last remnants of their pitiable little fire in the snow before tackling her. And bouncing off. There was no way he could knock her out of the blast radius, certainly the gamma one. Fortunately for both, the thing was fat enough to contain both... if not the smell of char.
Wren blinked, and then blinked again before sitting up and taking a deep breath-
"Hrrrrrrrrrrgh." She groaned, her shoulders drawing up in distress. She was covered in seal from head to toe, and the wet warmth felt hideous. She shuddered and shot to her feet, looking over at the thing that had been a seal not that long ago before spotting Jimmbo. Cleaning her sword off and sheathing it, she wiped swathes of gore off her as she staggered over.
"We did it!... Hooraaay." She smiled weakly. "That was good thinking. Thank you. I'd been wondering if my luck had finally completely ran out. I don't suppose you could repair..."
Wren sat back down, feeling woozy. She was having trouble catching her breath, and she briefly closed her eyes and bowed her head to get herself back together.
Jimmbo groaned from the ground back, not at all in an understandable language, and shivered. His geiger counter was beginning to sound off like the percussion for a modern intense metal band. Crawling and hoping this world didn't sport wampas, he patted her sitting shoulder and shook for warmth.
Wren flinched away from his touch before looking apologetic, finally standing and making her way to the shelter. It had survived the fight, although it was leaning against the tree a fair bit more. She turned back to him and sighed.
"I think if there's a time to call home, it would be now. You can watch if you'd like, but, er... Keep an open mind?" She suggested, before going inside. Once amongst the sticks Wren drew a circle on the ground and began drawing lines with her finger. A rough door shape took center stage, surrounded by orbs and lines of power. Wren began to mutter something, a simple unending cant that rose and fell seemingly at random. Outside, the fire turned pink.
Having no wit or ken of magic beyond the dealings of his people's Shamans, and very little of that, the Jawa watched with mixed trepidation and doubt, and a sprinkling of curiosity.
As the circle began to run like molten silver, a simple pink orb appeared in it's center. It looked like a pearl, and didn't move except to silently float. Wren let out a sigh of relief and knelt closer to whisper.
"Inshabel? It's me. I think I've found my way into a bind. I and... A friend need help."
She paused and listened to something like wind chimes before nodding.
"Alright. I'll see you soon... Thank you." She said, turning to him as the orb winked away into nothing. "There's an ice fishing shack nearby, to the east; if we can reach the door, we'll be safe. Do you think we can make it?"
The orange eyes inside the hood threatened to bug out, but he retained his sanity and nodded instead, before the shivering thing picked up one of the burning sticks and stuck close to the swordswoman's leg. She would be the one to know where it was, after all.
I'm really digging this format of introducing a new Ven char by way of giving a spotlight to a Brine char who didn't get much love the previous year.
ReplyDeleteSaying that though, Seetwo was the best and how DARE you two kill a fat seal BI
You never know, my man, Seetwo was only implied dead... but that seal went kafwoosh, sure aye.
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