Private Stranded Lights

[Maeve Linahan]

"You keep insulting my piloting skills, but why don't you try steering a ship through a lightning storm and see where that gets you?" Maeve huffed. Then again, he wasn't entirely wrong. She was a terrible pilot. She just refused to admit it.

Maeve grumbled to herself as Cale finished up, biding her time. Strangely, he stayed in the other room longer than was needed, and just when she was about to ask if he was alright, she heard his call through the door.

She sighed. "Really? What is it this—?"

Her words trailed away as the washroom door slid open, revealing Cale in a half-worn shirt. Part of his chest was exposed, as was the stump where his other arm should've been, leaving little to hide the pale scars and burn marks that slashed across his skin, mementos from his battles against the Sith, far too many to count.

Maeve hesitated, forgetting what he'd asked, but after a moment, she gave herself an internal shake and blinked. "Oh, yes. Of course."

She closed the space between them. With more care than was necessary, Maeve reached around his waist and grabbed at the loosely hanging shirt, bringing it around before she started buttoning him from the waist up. Her eyes tried not to linger too much.

"Caraya's soul, Cale," she uttered. "You're a mess."

He might've thought she was talking about his scars, but as her fingers moved delicately up to his collar, she met his eyes. "Can't even do anything without my help, can you?" She shook her head. "How have you managed to survive on your own for all these years?"

Cale Gunderson​

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

It was a strange sensation, having his scars laid bare in the literal sense, and Cale found himself looking up towards the ceiling as though that would’ve made a difference. He wished that the longest and worst of the scars had been from Sith, but the blades that had carved them had all been shades of green and blue. Somehow he worried she’d be able to tell, as though a blade’s hue made it cut any differently. When she spoke, and it was not to make an accusation, Cale felt a weight lift from his chest that he hadn’t known was there.

“You know it’s funny, you’re not the first person to tell me that.” He said with mock-surprise, eyes turning down towards Maeve. Cale was a mess though, even now, in spite of all his efforts to the contrary.

Cale took the teasing with a smile, laughing softly at the ribbing she gave him as her hands deftly closed the shirt. It was a stuffy thing if he was being honest, and he wondered how the locals thought it was appropriate wear for a task as labor intensive as farming. He kept those thoughts to himself though.

“I avoided shirts with buttons mostly.” He answered her inquiry with his usual flippant smile. He’d had Aleks, and Ronan, and sometimes his brother when he had made time to see him, but in the end Maeve had him figured out. It was funny how good she was at that, if a little frustrating.

“I suppose uh, the shower is all yours.” Cale said with a sigh, eyes flicking from Maeve to the empty bed with longing. He imagined he’d be out in minutes once he hit the surface, but he’d try to stay awake, just a little longer. He doubted she’d need his help, given her lack of absent appendages, but the water temperature controls were hard enough to figure out that she might need to ask for help.

Force Cale, is that the best excuse you can make up?

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"What you need is a live-in house droid. Maybe a valet." Maeve clinched the last button to his shirt and gave his chest a pat. "If you can afford one."

She smirked and looked up at him again. They were close—closer than usual—and when she met his eyes, she was surprised by how blue they were, like bottled lightning.

When she realized she was staring a little longer than she should've, Maeve cleared her throat and stepped away. That was enough of that.

"Well, you look decently presentable. I'll see if I can manage the same for myself, but you need to earn your sleep." She collected what clothes she left on the bed and turned for the washroom. "I would prefer if you're not a haggard corpse when the wildmen arrive, so don't bother waiting up for me. Rest, and I mean it."

She threw him a look. "If you're still awake by the time I'm done, I will beat you over the head until you aren't. Don't think I'm joking."

Maeve slid the washroom door closed. The moment she did, she shut her eyes, feeling like an idiot. No matter. They'd survived. They'd found civilization. In a day or two, she and Cale would be back in the sky, returning to their usual duties, just like before. All she had to do was make it through this evening.

A sigh, and Maeve sloughed off her filthy robe. Drawing on the Force, she turned on the shower with a flick of her hand, but rather than step into steaming water, she let the cold wash over her, biting into her skin. That was much better—it helped keep the heat in her face well away.

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

“I blow all my money on stims and booze Maeve, we both know a valet is outside of my budget. Speaking of, did you know the quartmater on Tython keeps ‘losing’ my stims? Maybe I can get some off the villagers, it’s been months.” Cale tried to distract himself and her, but failed miserably, the reality of the situation settling in.

They were close, too close maybe, but he didn’t pull away. Cale’s eyes met Maeve’s and for the briefest moment he felt an impulse to do something tremendously stupid flare up in the back of his mind. The silence felt like an eternity, but he didn’t mind at all. Then she pulled away, and the Jedi Master quietly released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His cheeks were burning, so red that even the beard might not have been enough.

“Yes ma’am, right to bed ma’am.” He snapped off a crisp salute and flashed a tired grin as she stepped into the washroom. For once, he didn’t have it in himself to fight sleep, even to bother Maeve. Cale was asleep the moment he hit the bed.

Often, when he was exhausted, the dreams didn’t come, and even without that parameter he’d been sleeping normally for the past year. This sleep was an exception though, anything but dreamless.

Beneath closed lids, his eyes darted back and forth, his mind playing images of a mask sliding down over his face, a red glow in his hands. It burned, his hands both burned. Cale looked down in the dream, through the slits in the mask and saw nothing but blackness, yet a searing pain enveloped his hands, he tried blinking it away, tried screaming, but no sound came. Light did, though he wished it hadn’t. It was red, and cruel, and angry, a malevolent glow that pierced the blackness, trapped between his hands, illuminating the miles of corpses in every direction. The blackness became purple, then red, then orange. He drew in a sharp breath, and was suddenly trapped in the cockpit of his X-Wing on Roche, pounding at the canopy as the fire spread up his legs. That was wrong, it hadn’t happened like that. None of it happened like that.

He saw Talia Farn’s face in the Jedi Temple, abject horror in her betrayed eyes, but in a blink she was gone, and Maeve was there instead. Aleks was beside her, Marek on the other side, the Nobles behind them, and half a dozen others he’d come to trust and who trusted him in kind. They all looked at him with revulsion with disgust, with fear. Their sabers came to life all at once.

Cale shot upright with a gasp, heart pounding, sweat rolling down his forehead, eyes wild and racing. He breathed, his heart slowed, and he found his center. He wondered what would change once she knew.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Barely minutes passed by the time Maeve stepped out of the washroom.

Her hair was still damp, pushed back and left to cascade down her back, and she wore the simple dress and shawl she'd been given, feeling stiff and awkward. She was used to armor, maybe a cowl to hide her face. Not this. Not the look of some village midwife.

She was grateful, at least, that Cale was too comatose to see her this way.

He laid flat on the bed, a sprawled mess. Peaceful, almost. She half-expected him to be snoring, but she didn't linger around long enough to find out if he would or not. She'd let him rest. He deserved it after everything. So, drifting for the door, she left him alone to dream.

Maeve spent the next few hours helping the villagers prepare. Reina, the young woman in charge, took to relaying orders, making sure rifles were polished and loaded, while Maeve laid out a perimeter and positioned the men at good vantage points around the settlement. Homes were barricaded, pikes erected. All in all, it was a productive afternoon.

By the time evening came, everyone was in high spirits.

She felt confident things would turn in their favor, but she knew it was going to take more than a few fortunate villagers to beat Denth's men. She needed Cale.

Maeve returned to the hut, parting open the door before slipping inside. She thought she might find the Jedi Master still dead asleep. Instead, he was wide awake.

"Ah, welcome back to the living," she said wryly, though upon closer look, she saw the sweat on his brow and sensed the feeling of panic that swamped the room, albeit faintly. Something was off, even if he didn't look it. "You slept quite a bit. Everything alright?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

Cale's eyes flicked to Maeve, frantically searching for an ignited saber that was not, and had never. A wave of fear ran up his spine, and he looked away from her, not entirely himself for a moment. There was no sharp remark, no witty retort, just a simple nod.

"Yeah I'm alright." He forced his legs to move, and got himself out of the bed, awkwardly stretching as his mind played back the nightmare's end over and over. It wasn't real, he knew it wasn't, yet he still felt the sting of shame as he rose and rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Is everything ready? I'm sorry if I slept through the preparations."

The apology must've sounded as strange to her as it did to him, but he played it off as best he could, flashing a small smile in an attempt to ward off any further inquiries. Knowing her, it wouldn't work. Cale needed Denth's men to show up ASAP, nothing short of a fight was going to get him away from things this time.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Cale's answer made her squint at him in doubt. She didn't believe him when he said he was alright, but she didn't pry or press further. Whatever was on his mind, that was for him alone. She'd let him have that—for now.

"Preparations are almost ready," Maeve told him. "Reina's gathered all the men and women who can fight while everyone else will join the village elder outside the settlement. They'll stay in the forest until the dust settles."

"But you have nothing to apologize for—as long as you're ready to fight. I need you conscious. Not half-exhausted after a night spent nearly drowning." A raised eyebrow. "Then again, you've got enough bags under your eyes to pack a trip to Nal Hutta. You sure you're alright?"

Cale always looked tired, though. She supposed that was just part of his charm.

She cocked her head back to the door. "Come on, 'Master Jedi.' It's about time we—"

Maeve was interrupted when Reina burst into the hut, her trademark rifle slung over her back. She was dressed for battle, hair thrown up in a tight braid and sporting an old Republic-era clone trooper chest plate. Maeve would've killed for armor instead of the half-dress she was wearing, but the villagers needed the protection more than she did.

"The wildmen are here," Reina said. "Just past the tree line."

Cale Gunderson​

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"I'm always ready to fight." There wasn't even a trace of his usual humor. Cale was grim and taciturn. Maeve had seen him work once, but that had been against a Sith Lady, fully immersed in the Dark Side of the Force. He'd found it was hard to gauge how capable a killer a person was from duels like that. Their last dancing partner had been able to meet their blows and counter with her own, she'd been able to withstand the force and fury behind their strikes. Unless they were truly blessed, these Wildmen wouldn't have any such saving graces.

In his dream, she'd seen his work, and he wondered how Maeve would respond in the waking world. When Reina came in to inform them, Cale was silent, stirring on his nightmare and what was to come. He gave Maeve a nod, and moved through the open door. The air was cool but not biting, and unlike the night before, there seemed to be no looming threat of a massive storm.

He missed his armor, not even the stuff he'd donned on Illum, but his real armor. The white plating emblazoned with the burgundy Jedi crest he'd worn on the sands of Korriban, into the maelstrom on Roche, against the tide of living dead during the Dark Harvest. The armor had saved him time and time again, because in the end, he hadn't been skilled enough to survive without it. After the mask, after the darkness, Cale had hardly ever needed armor. It was like his body recalled what it had done, put it to muscle memory, and used it for its own.

Cale was dangerous because of the time he'd spent a puppet. He always wondered if that meant he'd always been that way, or if that was one 'gift' of his time in bondage that he'd never be able to be free of. He missed his old armor. He missed knowing that his life was contingent more on it holding than his own capacity as a killer.

The saber flew to his hand, and Cale made his way toward the treeline.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve let Cale walk past her through the door. His face was severe, mind heavy. Whatever thoughts were swirling in that head of his were for him alone, but still she wondered. Earlier that morning, he'd been in such high spirits, eager to tease, but now, not so much. Was it something she said?

She ignored the thought. Of course he was fine. He was just getting into the mood to fight, that was all, and she needed to do the same. To focus.

Maeve followed him and Reina outside the hut and onto the grassy road that wove its way through the settlement. Men and women had taken positions on a few rooftops, but most had settled behind a series of fortifications around the village, from crates to piled bags of rice.

Night hadn't arrived just yet, but it would soon.

Maeve stopped by an overturned wagon beside Reina, studying the forest ahead. There was nothing worth mentioning yet, but she could feel them just behind the trees, lurking and watching. Like a hundred eyes were staring at her from the dark. They seemed to know that this time, the town wouldn't give the tribute they wanted, so Maeve clutched her own lightsaber as the sun went low.

"Just what is it that they're waiting for?" she murmured.

It wasn't until the question left her lips that she heard a roar, then saw the rancor.

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

"That, if I had to guess." Cale answered bluntly. His mind raced with memories of dark witches riding their enthralled rancors across the battlefields of a galaxy on fire, he remembered walking beside them, watching them feed. Those had been monsters, this was a pest. If a rather large, dangerous, and hard-to-kill one. Cale stepped forward, and didn't stop.

"When they show their heads, kill them." He called back to Reina, counting on Maeve to be beside him soon enough. It was a hideous beast, drooling, massive, hungry, but it didn't strike the same fear into him to once did. Cale came to a stop on the outskirts of the village and lifted up his hand. The Jedi Master cleared away the thoughts of darkness and of Maeve alike, thhen closed his eyes. Aside from the roar and the rumble of footsteps, Cale found the force, felt it all around him, and let it give him the strength he'd need.

His fingers curled, as though grasping something as the rancor advanced, he took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled. Cale's eyes snapped open, and with a yank of his hand, he tore one of the trees up, roots and all, and pulled it forwards to crash into the rancor from behind.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Ashla's Light," she sighed. "Why is it always us?"

An uninvited Sith guest, a crash landing, a near-drowning, and now this? It was like wherever she went with Cale, trouble was sure to follow. She couldn't explain it, only that it seemed this particular misadventure had come with more surprises than she'd anticipated.

No matter. She and Cale would overcome them, just as usual.

Following him out onto the bare field surrounding the village, she sensed the Force mount inside him, strength like she hadn't felt since their battle with the Sith on Tepasi.

Sleep had been kind to him, clearly.

The tree tore from the ground and shattered against the rancor's back. It let out an ear-splitting roar, eyes blazing with fury. As it whirled about in fury, Maeve could briefly catch its rider, holding steadfast onto the creature's back. With a hard lash, the rider commanded the rancor forward, and now it charged towards them, each step shaking the ground.

Maeve ignited her lightsaber. "Good work. You made it angry."

Cale Gunderson​

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

"Funny." Cale shot back, calling his saber to his hand, the blade coming to life with a hiss. He wasn't worried, not about Denth, or the Wildmen, or even the rancor. He'd trusted Aleks, but there had always been a layer of worry to it, the concern of a teacher for a student, or whatever one wanted to call it. That was not the case with Maeve. It was a different sort of trust, the kind he'd have walked towards hell itself with.

What could he say? She was good in a fight. And good company, if he was being honest.

"Let it come for me, you take care of the rider." Cale shot forward before there was any time to argue, rushing the lumbering beast with blade at the ready, coming in close enough for the furious beast to pull back a mighty hand and slam it down right on top of the Jedi Master. The shadow of the beast's fist swallowed Cale in darkness, and the very earth shook with the force of the blow.

But, Cale was not a red smear in the grass. The rancor's fist had been arrested less than a meter above his head, seized by the invisible hand at the end of his absent arm, and brought to a complete and sudden halt. There was surely some sharp remark to be made, some jab to throw at the rider, but Cale just swung his saber upward, and took off one of the Rancor's fingers as the blue blade cut and arc through air, flesh, and bone. If it was angry before, it would be livid now.

Cale shot back as the beast slung another blow down with its free hand, soil exploding all around him as he narrowly dodged the deathblow. It roared, the Rancor's cry filled with pain and rage. It was going to kill him, or die in the attempt.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Wait, you want to deal with the rancor on your own?"

Maeve felt the sudden urge to grab him by the arm and pull him back, but it was too late. Cale was already charging for the beast, drawing its attention with his shiny lightsaber. She couldn't believe him. Did he have a death wish?

No, she thought. He's buying you an opening.

Maeve groaned, then ran forward as well. As she did, she caught more wildmen pouring out from the forest, circling around the rancor and descending on the settlement. Fortunately, Reina and the other villagers were already prepared, and at her order, opened fire at the men, bolts flying through the air. The battle had officially started in earnest.

Maeve dashed through the grasses on the rancor's flank. Part of her, strangely, felt a tug of worry for Cale, but he seemed to be handling the beast better than expected.

She shoved her concern aside. At the first opening she saw, Maeve leapt onto the rancor's back, nails digging into its armored skin. Inch by inch, she climbed up to where she saw the rider, a bald man who clung to two chains lashed to the rancor's head. An easy kill—if he hadn't spotted her and pulled out a blaster pistol in seconds.

A bolt shrieked over her head and she cursed. She was going to need a little more time.

Cale Gunderson​

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

The bursts of blasterfire from the Rancor’s back drew Cale’s attention for half a heartbeat, eyes darting up to the streaks of red in the night air. She was still there, the Force still flowed through her, strong and true. It nearly left him though, the Rancor’s mangled claw swiping at him, capitalizing on the brief distraction to nearly land a blow that would’ve likely pulverized most of the bones above his waist if it didn’t outright tear him in two

Cale didn’t jump back though, he moved forward, calling on the Force to grant him a blitz of speed forward, then letting it rush back through him. Push and pull interlinked, and again phantom nerves came to life as he slung the most vicious punch of his life into the Rancor’s abdomen.

Its thick hide rippled with the blow, blood vessels and musculature bursting and tearing with the force of the strike. If it survived, the strike would leave a brutal contusion that would throb for weeks. The Rancor cried out, and rather than striking at Cale, its unmauled hand rushed to clutch the impact point as it lurched forward in agony. He moved again, clearing from its grasp as it stumbled, looking for Maeve.

Hopefully, the rider’s aim would be for shit now that his mount was wailing. Cale wasn’t sure how many more tricks like that he had in him, but he’d find the strength if he had to. There was no way forward but through.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve struggled to hold on while the rider fired one bolt after another at her, eager to burn a hole through her face. Growing desperate, she ignited her lightsaber and smacked aside what shots she could, one hand hanging on, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep at it.

Not until the rancor screamed and lurched to the side.

The rider's attention shifted. He swung sideways, then fought to bring the beast back under control, snapping at its chains. Had Cale thrown another tree? No matter. Whatever he did, it bought Maeve the opening she was looking for, and without a second thought, she climbed up the rancor's back, coming to a full stand when she neared its neck.

By the time the rider turned back, she already shoved him over the side.

He shrieked as he fell, just before he was promptly crushed by the still wailing rancor. Although riderless, it was still a mad beast, blind with rage, and there was only thing left for Maeve to do.

She plunged her lightsaber right into its skull.

The rancor seized up, then staggered. She'd scorched clean through its brain, and after a few moments of awkward lumbering, the massive creature eventually slumped into the grass, steam pouring from its mouth. Maeve retracted her lightsaber and stepped off its head like she was descending from a small pedestal.

"Well," she said. "That was certainly easier than I expected."

Cale Gunderson​

​

 

[Cale Gunderson]

The creature fell into a heap, and Cale's mind buzzed with the strain of exertion, saber humming in his hand as he stared briefly into the lifeless eyes that had only just burned so brightly with the fires of unrestrained fury. He did not wonder if there was another way that he'd missed, he did not consider that the beast was only following the will of its rider. It was dead, and that was all there was to it.

"Don't get ahead of yourself." He cautioned, eyes on the tree line, looking for the other Wildmen who'd only just been there. "I don't think Rancor's are native here, are they? What kind of person is Denth if he shipped one in?" Grim seriousness didn't particularly suit him, but it hadn't left Cale regardless. The clothes he'd been given were now stained with sprays of dirt, and a spatter of Rancor blood that the thing must've spat up when he hit it. By the night's end, he'd need another change, but hopefully not into another one with buttons.

She'd catch the red in his cheeks the second time, beard or no.

"We should go into the trees, find a straggler, see what we can learn." Cale said, though diplomatically enough as to indicate that he was open to alternatives. "Good work up there." He added, flashing a small, knowing smirk.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Says the man who charged headfirst at a rancor," she said, shaking her head with a rare, if not near-invisible, smile. She nudged the dead beast with her foot. "I wouldn't know whether they're native here or not. It's not like I've done a complete study of the species."

It hadn't been the first time she fought them, though. The Outer Rim was littered with their kind, between Felucia and Dathomir, and even became invasive to other planets thanks to criminal warlords eager to pit them in arenas. Perhaps Denth was responsible for this one.

Maeve dusted her shoulders, ignoring the blood that flecked her own dress. "Thanks for the compliment, but most of that was your doing."

He'd distracted the beast, survived a head-on collision from its clawed fist, and judging from the wound in its gut, he seemed to have punched it with his own hand. No wonder the rancor had gone out of control the way it did.

All that was left now was the rest of the wild-men. Then, Denth.

Maeve turned her attention back the settlement. Reina and the villagers had, miraculously, managed to fend off most of the raiders, and with the rancor dead, many were already fleeing back into the trees, back to where they came. Catching them wouldn't be easy.

Fortunately, she and Cale wouldn't have to.

"Looks like we've got a straggler already," she said, nodding to the village. Reina had managed to hook one of the wild-men, who was hollering and thrashing viciously underneath an iron net. She tilted his head at Cale. "Would you like the honors?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

Cale shrugged off the acknowledgement of his own actions. Thumbing the ignition of his lightsaber and letting the blade collapse back into the hilt with a hiss. He returned the weapon to its proper place with clinical, practice precision, a sense of incompleteness setting in as soon as the weapon left his hand. Cale knew it wasn’t gone, knew it’d be back in his hand before the sun rose, but even still it nagged at him.

When he saw Reina’s quarry, and heard Maeve’s offer Cale’s fingers twitched at his side. There were ways to make even the most hardened, dogged foes talk, but none of them that he knew were adherent to the Jedi’s way of doing things. He’d never done them of his own accord, but some things once seen could never be forgotten.

“No.” He said to Maeve, looking from the captured Wildman and back to his companion. “You’re the Shadow, you taking a crack at him. I’ve never had an affinity for that sort of work.”

Was he lying? He didn’t even know. Cale hoped he wasn’t.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Your loss."

She strode towards the thrashing wildman and knelt beside him. There were many ways to draw information out of a man. Torture, for one. But that was a method she rarely pursued, not when it reminded her too much of her own childhood, trapped in that miserable cage, left to rot with her dead family.

She'd known Valery Noble could filter through the memories of Sith like sifting sand, but Maeve wasn't quite as practiced in the technique as the Councilor—not without turning her victim's head to mush. That left only one other option for a Jedi like herself.

Maeve reached out and smacked her palm against the wildman's forehead. Not too hard, though it was enough to make him stop screaming and twisting against the net, and he looked up at her in confusion, blinking rapidly.

"Calm down and listen," she said, her voice smoother than water. "Either you can tell me where your master is, or I can crush your testicles into a fruit spread. I'm feeling generous this evening, so I will give you twenty seconds to answer. Understand?"

Cale Gunderson​

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[Cale Gunderson]

Cale couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that came when Maeve struck the wildman out of his frothing stupor and back to reality. The expression that spread across its face both pathetic and genuinely amusing. He wondered if the thing knew enough to actually answer Maeve’s questions or if it’d just stare up at her with the same dumbfounded expression until she got tired of trying.

Her threat made him cringe at the mere thought, but if the wildman could understand them, Cale was sure it must’ve realized by now how easily Maeve could make good on the threat.

“Wouldn’t try calling her bluff if I were you.” He chimed in, coming up beside Maeve and looking down on the restrained Raider.

Maeve Linahan