Ok, so the cloaked rebel was another Jedi, it seemed. Quick thinking, too, it was obvious to him as his eyes traced the path of the missile that it would not hit the starfighter. And yeah, right there as he expected, it swerved to dodge out of the way. Knowing it would be back on their tail soon and this time, there would be nothing he could do to it as he had already fired the only heat-seeking missile they had onboard, he immediately messaged the pilot.
"Take us down, now!" he shouted into the comlink even as he threw the empty missile launcher back at the rebel he took it from and extended his hands outwards, adding his own power to the barrier the masked rebel was trying to erect.
And yet, pandemonium was beginning to ensue within the shuttle. The rebel infantryman with the missile yelped in panic as the detonator on one of the missiles sparked and sizzled. Acting quickly, Will reached out with the Force to seize the malfunctioning rocket, but then felt the presence of another, darker mind who's grasp on the Force was more powerful than his.
Well, damn.
Fortunately for the occupants of the shuttle, the soldier with the rocket launcher was a quick thinking one as well. Without hesitation, he grabbed the pack holding the missiles by one of its straps and with a grunt of effort that could be heard even over the roaring of the shuttle's engines, he threw it out as hard as he could. Luckily for them, Will hadn't closed the ramp, yet, otherwise that missile would have detonated and killed every single person aboard.
Their troubles weren't over, however. The shuttle glided down, sputtering and trailing smoke from the damaged stabilizer as the starfighter finally looped back around, but that wasn't their biggest problem anymore. In the corner of his eyes, Will traced the path of an artillery shell arching down from the Sith ramparts. It hissed and whistled angrily through the air, then...
A blinding flash and a wall of fire.
Oh, no. Not one of those things, Will thought. Yes, it was one of
those things. Just when he thought the day couldn't get any worse.
Closing his eyes, he grit his teeth, putting every ounce of strength he had into that barrier, hoping it would be enough. If he were a religious man, he'd have started praying right now. He wasn't a religious man. He was a spy posing as a smuggler, trying to do his job while also somehow making it back out alive. As the wall of fire caught up to the ailing shuttle, his thoughts went to
Karma Jayne
, to her smiles and kisses. He really hoped he'd get a chance to kiss her again.
-------
He awoke coughing, horrible, acrid smoke filling the air around him and blurring his vision. Someone was shaking him and trying to say something, but his ears rang and he couldn't understand. Slowly, the fog lifted from his mind. He was alive. In the shuttle, slumped against the bulkhead dividing the cockpit from the passenger compartment. Something in his back hurt as he drew a breath, likely a cracked rib. Or several cracked ribs, actually.
They crashed. Around them, the landscape was utterly devastated and devoid of all life, but somehow, the barrier held and they survived. No. Not all of them. The rebel with the missile launcher was gone, nowhere to be seen, he either fell from the shuttle, or... Well, there was nothing Will could do about it, anymore. The pilot was dead, too, apparently. Killed by a shard of durasteel which broke off from the canopy and impaled him through the heart.
Looking around him, he saw that most of the rebels were covered in cuts and bruises, but alive. Except for that guy who's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. And another one who lay motionless on the floor, eyes open and staring into nothing. He had hit his head against the edge of one of the seats as the shuttle crashed.
Another infantryman was screaming horribly, his leg pinned beneath a crumpled panel. Will rushed over to him, sliding his hand under the wreckage and lifting with all his strength, but the panel wouldn't budge.
Oh, the Force. That's right, he was a Force wielder, he remembered.
"I'm gonna' get you out of there," he said as he reached out and called the Force to him, channeling it into the metal slab and lifted it, just as he was taught. He reached down for the pinned rebel and closed his hand around one of the straps of his armor vest, pulling him back from under the wreckage, which he then allowed to crash to the floor with an audible clang.
The rebel's leg looked warped and twisted, blood seeping through the fabric of the trousers and coloring it a dark red, the ankle twisted around and horribly deformed. Will was no surgeon, he knew next to nothing about Force Healing and this injury was beyond his abilities to deal with, but he knew that if the injured rebel didn't receive assistance, he wouldn't last much longer.
He looked around for the cloaked rebel, the other Jedi. Maybe he would be able to help.
Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax
