Not About Angels

[Tydeus of Tion]

The caustic smell of electrical fire hung thickly over a series of grim scents. Death was not beautiful. It was ugly and reeked of emptied bowels. Upon cresting the berm, Korr's features went rigid as cast-iron.

The outpost was on fire. Bodies lay scattered here and there, seemingly at random. An experienced eye could tell how they died. Two Trandoshans cut down in the crass, securing a landing zone. A Mandalorian fallen inside a doorway, holding it to his last. Half the building was burned out. Whatever wasn't permacrete resembled little more than crumbled or melted char.

A breeze caught embers floating through the air, sent them spinning like fireflies to fall among the stalks of rippling grass.

Ryan's lips pressed together into a firm line. He bent down to inspect the corpse of a fallen T'doshok. Blast vest had been pierced by a scatter gun. Looked like a ten gauge. The corpse wore the same equipment as the ones who had attacked him on the Wheel. A chill crept along his spine, turning sweat to prickling trails of ice. His hypothesis was now confirmed. They must have intercepted her transmission. Stretching out in the Force, he searched for any sign of life. It only took a moment.

"Red..." Korr rose and watched her search through the bodies for a moment. "...Red. They're all gone."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

Under the afternoon light, that almond shaped eye seemed to flare gold for the briefest moment. A trick of the light to be sure, the angle of those rays. Standing amidst that carnage, that fine tremble turned into a visible shake. She didn't need the Force to tell her that, but it still clawed its way with those icy talons and dug into her senses. Even now, the thick coppery smell of blood hung like a heavy cloud, making her believe it seeped its odor into her clothes, hair, and skin.

Nostrils flaring, the Hunter swallowed hard. That did nothing to quell the coiling tension that wound her muscles tight and sent a swirl of air whirl-winding around her. One would figure it was the wind, another far more attuned would realize it wasn't. As soon as it began it dissipated, as if barely held in check. She could feel it, the bubbling anger. That righteous anger that sought to be fed. A whisper from the past murmured in the back of her mind, resonating with a certain strength that brought a chill down her spine.

Only the dead have seen the end of war…

Biting her lip hard until it bled, Skye swung her gaze around, unable to meet the Jedi but acknowledging the statement none the less with a jerk of a nod. Spinning on her heel, she took purposeful strides towards the nearest Trandoshan body. Holstering her pistol, she took precise motions to crouch down and take in as much detail as she could. Her suspicion would prove correct much like the Grand Master's. They were a part of the cult that had worked so hard to cut him down.

That they managed to intercept her communication and arrive here first was chilling; and a problem. In the rear of her mind, a voice told her she must care for the dead. Yet another warned that staying long would do them no good. What was so important about Korr? Were they still here? Her head came up, cherry red ocular scanning the distance. It was all she could do so she didn't turn into a raging mass of emotions. The withdrawal of her drugs plus this was enough to set her off. She didn't need that. Not now.

"Search the other Trandoshan." her voice was terse. Stoic. Her profile seemingly chiseled from cold velmstone; blanched and glossy smooth from the faint sheen of sweat. An exact opposite from the fiery woman that had so boldly walked into the blade the Jai had held up when she called his bluff. She began to search pockets, move up and down for anything that could be a clue or cue.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Korr stood there, silent, a growing frown splitting his forehead. Pieces fit slowly together in his mind: mercenary T'doshok, willing to ignore the great game in order to take their own lives; high level military-grade decryption capabilities; plans for the construction of a capital ship; the single sentence in Sith. Click.

He did not need to search the Trandoshan, of he already knew who'd sent them. The One Sith wouldn't have bothered with shadow games. They'd have come for him personally. No, there was a different threat at work here. Castoffs from the old Empire and the failing Techno Union. Entities who moved people and corporations across an unseen board. They'd be confident enough to send operatives to torch a Mandalorian held outposts because they knew all Ryan could dredge up as evidence was his own suspicions and a sense in the Force that his conclusion was correct.

Grimacing, Ryan turned to the bounty hunter. There was no good way to go about explaining this to her. Best to just rip off the bandage.

"This is my fault, Red," he spoke evenly, detached. "There are forces at work here that I don't fully understand. I'm not the target, what I carry is: a data chip containing a set of blueprints. I didn't kill your friends, but I might as well have pulled the trigger myself."

The crushing weight on his heart added on a few pounds, a familiar burden grown only heavier through the years.

"If they were willing to assault a Mandalorian outpost, there's no telling what more they'll do. We need to leave."

Leave before more people died. They hadn't assaulted the outpost for no reason. That wasn't how this group operated. For instance, where was the gunship that had brought the Trandoshans?

A high whine grew infinitely louder and a shadow fell across Jedi and Hunter. The descending shape bristled with weapons capable of obliterating tanks. A model straight out of the now defunct Fringe Confederation. The missing gunship. It hovered low until it could fix a forward repeating blaster on the hapless pair.

From inside the unburnt parts of the outpost came a squad of Trandoshans, blasters all raised. They moved to encircle the two humanoids, black eyes merciless, fangs all bared in expressions of triumph. Amulets dangled from all of their necks, oddly reminiscent of Red's own necklace. Korr couldn't feel them in the Force, senses slipping over them like sand through fingers.

One of them spoke.

"Give usss the plansss, Jedi."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

Fault?

There was little time to discuss where the blame lay. However, the fact that Korr had hidden the details of the data chip, that he had played the card of ignorance in his pride. Then again, hadn't she?

"A little late for that..." the Hunter murmured low, her voice edged with the rolling waves of anger that crashed through her body. Arm snapped up, locking in on the Trandoshan who spoke. She scowled, the hard expression that lined her marble features directed a blazing look that could kill.

"I don't think so." Skye uttered in a low growl, her clammy visage blanching another shade. The tremble in her hand had her tightening her grip on her bryer pistol.

It would be easy. So easy. That righteous indignation, that flare of the injustice of it all would surge through Skye's veins like wildfire.

There was a terrible glint within that bright cherry ocular patch. Her lips thinned, straightening into a determined line. One that would indicate to the Grand Master beside her that she would not be so quick to depart. Cogs turned, that pewter eye narrowed. They were there. Fuzzy, but within her scope. A small whirl and the cybernetic took stock of each of their positions.

"How about I blow the heads off your buddies, and you tell me who sent you to hunt him?"

Of course, they laughed. The Trandoshans thought they had the upper hand. They didn't realize just how frayed that last string holding Mertaal together was. Or that every second that ticked by would saturate and overflow her senses in the Force.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Gray eyes hardened, taking in the gunship and T'doshok kill squad. Korr clenched his teeth until he felt as though they might break. He longed to follow the huntress' lead, ignite his sabers and tear into their midst. He chose to do the opposite.

"No," he said curtly.

Maybe they could take them all on, or maybe they would die in a hailstorm of blaster fire. Ryan was prepared to die, but such a death would serve no one. Her least of all. He sensed her destiny was not yet complete. The road she walked was a treacherous one. I will not allow her to die on a path half tread, felled by a band of mere mercenaries.

The wash of the gunship's repulsers nearly drowned out his words.

"No," he began again more clearly, "I've hidden the plans. I will surrender my weapons and lead you to them, provided she and I are unharmed."

The Trandoshan who had spoken before flicked out a forked tongue, tasting the air. Korr wondered if the thing would just decide they weren't worth the trouble and shoot them. The reptile spoke.

"Thisss issss acceptable. Tosss your weapons on the ground."

Ryan did as he was told, slowly reaching to his belt and unclipping the hilts of his lightsabers. He paused, both sabers in his hands. It would be so easy to activate the blades and throw them, watching as they carved through the mercenaries. Air drew into his lungs, then rush back out. Cannot risk it. Not now. He tossed the lightsabers out in front of him, then looked over at [member="Skye Mertaal"], hoping she did the same with her assortment of weaponry, though it was undoubtedly vast.

One of the mercenaries pulled out a pair of stun cuffs and approached. Korr held out his hands expectantly. The cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. Another of the Trandoshans stooped, collecting his lightsabers. The one who'd cuffed him grabbed him by the elbow and started pushing him toward the gunship.

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

The Hunter's fingers flexed with a knuckle-white grip upon the Heavy Bryer pistol, her lips thinning into a firm straight line. There was another whir, a zooming in and out of the cybernetic. The way that her eyes glared at the Grand Master said that she wasn't too pleased by his decision. Was it foolish to attack the Trandoshan squad and the gunship? Definitely. Did she feel it warranted? You better believe it.

Yet Korr saw it fit to surrender, and when the thud of those lightsaber hilts hit the ground with a thud, Mertaal swore.

"Gorram it!" her jaw flexed, that nerve ticking with indignation as the click of the safety secured the blaster. It hit the dirt a second later, followed by an expression of ire that twisted her sweaty, pale features. Anger blazed in her eye, brows scrunched up and upper lip a half snarl when the stun cuffs bound her hands in place.

"Watch it!" she snarled, sharp and aggressive as if the Bounty Hunter were a hissing Bha'lir with her fur on end, ready to swipe with her claws if granted the opportunity. Not like the Trandoshan cultist considered the woman dangerous when cuffed. A firm shove and Skye stumbled forward, eliciting another ornery response. One that ended with large reptilian fingers digging deep upon her punctured collar.

It felt as if ice shards were driven into her skin. Unable to help herself, she gave a choked cry in pain, flinching as she was thrust forward into the ship alongside Korr. The way that the cybernetic ocular flared an uncompromising crimson hue said that the particular cultist had just been placed on a list for a special kind of hell.

They were shoved into what could only amount to be a make-shift cargo hold. The gunship had not been fitted to accommodate prisoners like the Shadow Phoenix. These cultists did not generally take hostages. Now they had two.

And one was seriously pissed off.