The other pilot in training took off at the sound of opportunity, and Loske referenced the kid's aptitude for instruction cheekily to her stubbourn AI-driven droid.
Frank refused to board with the civilians evacuating in the final shuttle, and the roaring of their engines meant they weren't waiting to the Jedi and the astromech to reach a mutual agreement on who did what, where. Their bickering was as endless as the sea of rotting flesh on skeletons outside.
"Ugh, you're such a pain sometimes!" The girl grimaced, her arms giving way to a shake that had been only a tremble previously.
"Get your go-go boots and rocket after him, then." She scowled, the taxing endeavour of extending herself into a shield was beginning to take its toll and her prowess was waning by the second. Frank hooted something that was a mix of testy and supportive, and whirled away after
Steve Holt
, activating his own fire-fuelled advantages.
Alone amongst the dead, Loske let her exhaustion culminate in her arms, temporarily folding them inward before snapping them back out in telekinetic burst that knocked several off their feet and over one another. She didn't linger to watch the effects though, and instead did what she could to augment her speed and run from the terrors that gathered at the doorway, clawing over one another at the luscious scent of flesh and fresh blood. Her legs pumped with adrenalized speed, and she skidded to a stop in the hangar the engineer had suggested. Frank was shaking at the feet of a rough-looking starfighters. Makeshift X-Wings, as luck would have it. Quickly made, lightly armoured. Perhaps restored from battles of Brentaal's past.
Invisible tendrils wrapped around the droid and lofted him up between the two deflector shield heat sinks, and she moved herself quickly, almost shooting past the ladder, but an extension of her palm that looped around the vertical rod swung her to the rungs and she quickly scaled them like a cat. A well-practiced exercise, but usually without the pressure of a flood of the undead behind her. They were only tens-of meters away at this point.
The ship was slow to start, the screen tired and dull, only showing black and white statuses of the ship's engines and primary systems.
"We're up and out. If the readings are blue outside, let's light up the streets." Loske comm'd over to her companion, who seemed to be settling in his fighter similarly. Their ammunition was low, probably enough for just one run, and the fuel was about half of what it should be. Not optimal conditions, but better than sitting around on the ground.
"These creatures don't register on the heat readings as red. If we see anything warm, hold your fire. I don't trust the aim of these canons.."
With a few practiced skitters over the dashboard, Loske's engines sputtered to life, jolting and belching her forward and upward to break through the roof of the warehouse. The noise was attractive to the undead, and they increased their velocity and flair for piling on another - creating an attempted mountain to claw and scratch at the nimble fighter taking off from the plateau of the warehouse.
Gala Geert
