Your Tail Light is Out

[Galavant]

Good old Ord Mantell.

Kilian didn't actually care much for the planet, the place was a dump. The air was bad, the booze was worse, and the people were terrible by her admittedly skewed standards. But there was always a job there, and it was pretty easy to get in and out of. For what felt like the first time in months she was leaving a system without the law or some idiot hounding her the entire way. It hadn't been exactly fun times for long while now. The usual stuff like an engine failing or a crate not being fulling loaded seemed to have been happening more often. And then there was the bigger stuff. First that job on Nar Shaddaa had gone sideways after the guy in charge decided to start insulting everyone after they'd pointed out that moving Rathtar's was insane. Violence ensued, some idiot ended up in charge, and she'd decided that was a sign it was time to move on. Then some crazy bounty hunter lady had apparently stalked across a few systems with the intention of killing her. She didn't even know if she actually the target or if the woman was just that bad at her job. Kilian hadn't even noticed which made it funny to her rather than scary. The only time she'd actually tried to kill Kilian (at least that Kilian was aware of) had been at that fraked up bar on Tatooine. Since then she hadn't seen her, which didn't really mean anything. She'd started to wonder if it was connected to running out on the slugs on Nar Shaddaa somehow, but she didn't really care all that much.

And then just to round it all out the pollen on Alderaan had been hell. So it hadn't been a terribly good time, amusement from people who didn't know to hunt bounties aside. It was nice just being able to make credits moving stuff from point-A to point-B with no complications for a change. It didn't happen nearly as often as she'd like at that moment in time, but deeper down she knew it was that kind of stuff that kept her in the profession of moving goods that might not be legal in all star systems. What was the good of having a kickass spaceship if you couldn't really get to fly it every now and again? She'd tried just shipping regular old goods once. It was absolutely dreadful and the pay sucked. So if she had to shoot a few morns that came her way so be it, as long as she could actually enjoy herself when she flew her ship. The slow was relaxing to be sure, but it wasn't something that she could really do on a regular basis.

The Running Wild was running fine not that it ever did otherwise while Kilian was behind the controls, not in her arrogant opinion at least. She spent more time cleaning the inside and out of the souped up freighter than most people did their entire house in a year. The freighter technically didn't belong to her, but she'd paid in to be a "captain" in the Association, and one of the perks that came with was that you got to fly one of the Associations ships without anyone else touching it unless you wanted them to. It was pretty nice, the Running Wild was a much better ship than the she'd been flying before. The Makin' Good Time had been a good ship, but it had been built for another time. Things were getting more dangerous, and Kilian appreciated the extra firepower and guns the Running Wild had.

Everything was running fine until...

"Frak me" She swore as another ship emerged from hyperspace on a trajectory that nearly hit her. Whatever the incredibly low odds of a collision like that happening were they were still high. She had already had her suspicions that she was somehow a magnet for improbable and bad things to happen to her with increasing regularity. Although technically she supposed that she was lucky. If the ship had dropped out just a few kilometers closer she wouldn't have had time to move at all. Of course if she'd really been lucky it wouldn't have happened at all. What kind of idiot was flying that thing anyway?

Turning the Wild around, Kilian got her first good look at the ship that had attempted to run her over. It looked big, ugly, and full of guns. Kilian didn't care if it had turbolasers whoever was flying it was gonna get an earful.

"This is the Running Wild to the ship that just emerged from hyperspace. A few piloting tips. First, you should always drop out of hyperspace a little further from a planet to keep this sort of thing from happening. Second there's things engines, might wanna use them when you're about to hit something. Third if there's anything damaged on my ship you're paying for it."

Kilian half expected the other vessel to turn and shoot at her, if only to prove that they were indeed the biggest pricks in the galaxy. Instead it did nothing.

And then it did more nothing. Checking the sensors the ship actually seemed to be dead in space, like it had only even dropped out of hyperspace because some kind of automated warning had been tripped.

Well....shit, Kilian thought moving the Wild in closer. Closer to still, and she started to tense up. It wasn't that the other ship had started to act threateningly, but moving in for a docking procedure with a ship that was just drifting wasn't exactly easy. It was just moving forward on momentum, headed towards Ord Mantell and a fiery crash, something that Kilian was sure whoever was inside wouldn't like. And if there was no one inside...well she was no salvager, but she was pretty sure she could do a short stint at at. Lining up the top docking port with the other vessel she brought her ship in closer, closer, closer until hard contact.

Firing the Wild's engines she brought the two ships to standstill, or as close to a standstill as one can get in an ever moving galaxy. Locking the controls, she got out of her seat, and got ready to head over. Tying her hair back in a quick ponytail she moved to the docking ring. It was small, but big enough for a person in a pressure suit to get through. From what the readings were telling her there was atmosphere on the other side though, and gravity too. She grabbed a gun, a flashlight, a nice black jacket (it was probably cold), and stuck a breathing mask on her utility belt in case there was poisonous gas or some nonsense.

Climbing up she popped the hatch and saw a whole lot of nothing. It was dark, and all her flashlight was showing her was some empty cargo bay.

Typical. I can't even have the luck of finding a derelict ship that at least has something of value on board, she thought. There was no way that she hadn't been heard, but there didn't seem to be any signs of life stirring that she could see or hear. The air smelled funny, like there was mildew and mold starting to grow somewhere rather than anything dangerous. Depending on when the ship had last been checked there probably was. Microorganisms had the easiest time hitching a ride, and could survive almost anywhere if they had water, and some even without that.

"Anybody home?" She shouted, shining her flashlight around, and pointing her gun at various inanimate objects. She certainly hoped there wasn't anyone on the ship. She'd rather just explore a derelict ship than deal with someone dumb enough to actually be on it.

@ZayPat

 

[Zay]

The flash of a muzzle. The searing pain radiating from his body. The pain of betrayal. These are the companions Mathis Aeron was left with as he landed face first in the dirt. As his face connected with the earth a plume of dust was cast into the air, and though the thin vail his eyes could see a pair of armored boots walking away from him. He tried to move his body, but the pain was too great. He was ashamed of his own weakness. Of his failure. He'd been so close to fulfilling his promise, he'd accomplished so much only to have it ripped out from under him.

"Inhale....exhale...." Mathis told himself as he laid on the ground. The pressure building in his chest made every breath hurt. He could feel the hole in his lungs. With every breath it seeped air from the opening. His breathing patter took on a lamaz-eaque pattern that involved several short breaths followed by a long exhale. Limbs quivering and cold Mathis accepted that this was where he was going to die. He was stranded on a hidden planet with no one he could call even if he could find a com station. No, he'd burned all his bridges. Turned his back on his family and left them nothing to tell them he was okay. Now he was going to die and they'd never know what happened to him.

Mathis' mouth was coated in blood and his vision began to tunnel. The edges darkening as he tried to force them open and focus on something other than the dirt inches away from his face.

"From the dirt we are made, and too the dirt we shall return." the old Nabooian proverb played in his mind as he began to give up.

"Uh... you gonna lay there all night or are you gonna get your ass up and get the hell out of here?" The familiar imperial brogue snapped Mathis' eyes open. He sat up from the dirt and realized he wasn't laying on his stomach in the alien world, he was on the lake front just outside of Theed. Confusion flooded his muddy mind and as he tried to focus on something, anything the voice spoke again.

"It's 'bout time you got your ass up." the chiding remark was quickly followed by a chuckle. Looking to his left Mathis stared into the amber eyes of his dear friend, Jarvis. Excitement over came Mathis as he looked upon his best friend. Tears welled up in his eyes blurring the already fuzzy picture. Mathis was without words, there was so much he wanted to say, but all he could manage was "I-I thought you were dead...."

The warm and caring smile that naturally rested on Jarvis' face faded and his features adopted a far more solum appearance. "I am."

The pain of the lost burst forth in Mathis' chest as a hyper realization slamming into his consciousness. Not wanting the truth, but needing to know he said, "Am I dead too?" the emotion he'd attempted to hold back before now gave way to the fear of the void.

Jarvis smiled and clapped Mathis on the shoulder. "No, my friend you're simply dancing among the angels right now."

Unsure how to respond he simply decided to remain silent. He was in a dream state, that much he was sure of. But what was happening to his physical body he could not know. Removing his hand Jarvis said, "I'm hear to remind you of my final wish." Bitter resentment and tinge of self-loathing entered Mathis' being. Before Jarvis could explain he cut him off.

"I know what you asked! That's how I got here!" his explosive reaction didn't seem to faze Jarvis in the slightest.

In a quiet and resolute voice Jarvis said, "I challenged you to live. To set your sights for more than a desk job. I gave you the motivation you needed to step out from your parents destiny for you and allowed you to carve your own." The words hung in the air and Mathis didn't try to argue. He knew Jarvis was right. He'd simply found it easier to blame his dead friend rather than own the actions he'd made.

"You need to wake up." Jarvis said. Brow furrowed Mathis looked at his friend confused. "Wha-" Jarvis cut him off, his voice growing supernaturally loud. "You need to wake up!" a sudden push in the center of Mathis' chest shoved him to the ground. He yelped in pain, but the reaction was caused more by the fear of the unknown than any actual pain.

"WAKE UP!" the voice of his closest friend was so loud in his ears that he was forced to cover them with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and when silence over took him he slowly opened them to the darkness he'd left when he'd lost consciousness. Face in the dirt and pain surging from his body Mathis settled into a grim determination that rivaled that of men on the battlefield.

Focusing all of his might into his upper body Mathis screamed with primal indignation as he willed his body to comply. Slowly, deliberately he began to rise. He sucked his knees underneath him and got to all fours. His blurred vision pulsed and he felt dizzy. Steading himself for a moment he waited until the dizziness passed before looking up to his surroundings. He was back in the Mandalorian raiders camp. The group had called themselves the Gray Skulls. They'd nearly killed him several times, but with the combined effort of Kanto and himself he'd survived.

He knew there was a ship, but he had no idea if he could pilot it. In this situation he wasn't sure he had a choice. Crawling on all fours in the pitch black of night Mathis systematically searched the camp ground until he came across the ship. Along the way he found many of the bodies he'd help to destroy. The thought crossed his mind to pick up a gun or a piece of armor, but that would have only added to his burden. Pushing onward and taking far more breaks than he'd wanted, Mathis, was starting to lose hope. That's when his left hand ran across one of the three landing pads used by the Mandolorian's ship.

Relief washed over him like a tsunami. Using the leg as a makeshift brace Mathis pulled himself up. Keeping on hand glued to the ship he maneuvered around the vessel until he came to the landing ramp. From there he stumbled up the ramp and into the ship. Continuing his left handed search pattern, Mathis looked for the infirmary. The lack of oxygen was beginning to make him sluggish and his mind was fighting him every step of the way. He found the infirmary and quickly located an occlusive bandage Looking down at the bloody mess that was his torso he knew he'd have to clean and apply the bandage to stop the infection and stop the air from leaking out of him.

Taking a Kolto injector Mathis stuck it to the area above the gunshot and pressed down. Screaming in agony as the pain medication poured into his bloodstream he knew he had to apply it three more times before he could clean. Removing his shirt the rest of the way he bunched it up and bit down on it. Applying the applicator he tried to relax the best he could and then pressed the injector. He repeated the process two more times and then wiped the area with a disinfectant wipe. Then applied the bandage.

Instantaneously air filled his lungs and he took his first full breath. The air was sweet and if he could, Mathis would have drank in as much oxygen as he could, but he knew he had to get off of this planet. Delighting in the ability to breath for a moment longer he laid on the floor and allowed the cold floor beneath him comfort his aching body with a metallic embrace.

Rolling over from his back and pushing himself up Mathis struggled to get back to his feet. His body had been deprived of oxygen for too long, and his motor functions were suffering heavily. All of his muscles screamed in agony and his stomach felt like he'd been gored by a bull. Managing to stand for what he knew would be the last time until he received medical treatment, Mathis stumbled into the cockpit and sat down in the captain's chair. Flipping switches and preparing the ship for take off was easy, but once the ship was ready to go Mathis realized he'd have to pilot the vessel.

Swallowing the newly accumulated blood in his mouth he clinched his jaw and pulled up on the controls. The ship lurched forward and Mathis knew instantly that he wouldn't be able to maneuver the ship any other way than up. As the ship shot through the sky, it began to tremble under the planets gravitational pull. The vibration felt like a form of torture, and as the ship started to breach the final layer of atmosphere the ships blast shield came down and he was blanketed once again in darkness.

The g-forces from take off brought him inches from consciousness. With a final push of the control stick Mathis was able to break trough the atmosphere and enter space. Weak, exhausted, longing for sleep, his hands fumbled with the controls and as he passed out his hand slapped the hyperdrive button. The last thing he saw was the star-scape stretching into star-lines.

Suddenly, his body was thrown into the console before him. His eyes snapped open just long enough to utter a surprised expletive that's normally associated with excrement. His head slammed into the controls before him and he lost consciousness immediately. In the back of his mind he could hear the voice of an angry being screaming at him from what seemed like a great distance. The voice stopped and everything was silent for a time.

Mathis was just beginning to usher his consciousness back into his body when he heard the same voice calling out in the ship he'd stolen. Fear and relief grasped him. If he'd stumbled upon someone who was half decent, just half decent he was saved... if he'd found an average spacer he was fraked. Hoping beyond hope that the person that had boarded the ship wasn't a vulture swooping in to devour him, Mathis uttered, “Help....”

@Galavant

 

[Galavant]

"Haar'chak" Kilian muttered to herself as she heard the plea for help coming from the cockpit. It looked like she wasn't going to be able to just take the ship and go on her merry way after all. Of course she could just pretend that she hadn't heard anything, go back to her ship, and then go off on her merry way sans free money. That was what she was inclinced to do because a) it was probably a trap, b) if whoever it was, was injured it would make a mess on her ship, and c) it was probably a trap. But after a few seconds mulling it over, Kilian decided to press on towards the cockpit. If there really was someone in trouble she'd hate to leave them like this. Not because she really gave a damn about them, but because she wouldn't want to be left like this. Kilian couldn't think of a worse way to do than to be stuck in a dead ship with nowhere to go, and no way out. Just thinking about it sent shivers up her spine, and she certainly didn't want to accrue negative karma on an issue like that.

Headed cautiously towards the cockpit, Kilian had her gun trained in the pilot as soon as he came into view. Her eyes kept darting from side to side and up and down looking for signs of a trap. There didn't seem to be, of course there wouldn't be if it was a trap worth a damn. The little trail of blood on the deck was the only thing of note however, and as Kilian appraoched the source she started to wonder if the pilot was even still alive at this point.

"Oh shit," She said softly seeing the extent of the injures. Holstering her pistol, Kilian wasn't sure what to do. No one had ever complimented her medical abilities before, but that probably had something to do with the fact that of all the times she could recollect giving aid to anyone seriously injured they'd died. So there was that. She wasn't even sure she had the equipment on the Running Wild to help him. Maybe enough to keep alive long enough to get back to Ord Mantell and find a doctor who wouldn't ask questions. Maybe.

That was assuming he survived the trip to her ship however.

"Well burc'ya I don't what the hell happened to you but I guarantee if you live this is gonna hurt a helluva a lot worse," She said to the hopefully not dead guy. Having been stabbed rather badly in the back before (literally not figuratively), Kilian had some intimate experience in being moved without proper equipment from place to another whilst injured. It wasn't a lot of fun.

Unstrapping him from the seat she only had one question.

"Can you walk?"

If the answer was no, he was liable to be in for a world of hurt. If the answer was yes, he was still liable to be in for a world of hurt as she doubted that he'd be able to get down the ladder in the airlock under his own power.

Either way she'd help him get that far, by doing that awkward dragging by the shoulders thing that all the medics and do-gooders did in the shows. Or if he could walk she'd simply prop him up. Once they got to the airlock though she plan was to...well if he had the muscle power have him basically hold on to her for dear life. And if he didn't it was going to be interesting trying to keep a barely dead man on her back with his arm's draped around her neck, and he'd probably fall to the deck and die, which meant it would all have been for nothing, and she'd have to spend hours cleaning that part of the ship.

@ZayPat

 

[Zay]

Nearly dead and clinging to consciousness with the veracity of a pissed off rancor, Mathis Aeron fought to stay alive. His limbs had started to grow cold in the time he'd spent on the stolen ship. The thought of moving was a sick joke and the idea of it was curler still. His mind was sluggish which was something the young scholar wasn't used to. He was having trouble stringing together thoughts. Every time he started to think about something the thought would simply drift away and he would be left perplexed by his loss. The cycle simply continued until he heard the foot falls of a stranger.

Mathis thought he remembered calling out for help, but that felt like ages ago. His eyes were open, but they wouldn't focus. His gut hurt like hell, but the pain seemed distant. He remembered the Kolto he'd injected and prayed that the separation form the pain was due to that rather than death seeking to end his suffering. Slothfully pushing his morbid thoughts from his mind, Mathis attempted to look toward the footfalls that were growing closer and closer.

Logically, he knew there was no one on the ship when he'd commandeered it. Emotionally, Mathis knew there was a Gray Skull Mandalorian Raider stalking down the corridor toward him. Probably hulking and hunchbacked, covered in pock scars from poor hygiene or steroid use. If he was subjected to the ugly mug of a roided out mandalorian in his final moments he would truly be cursed. He would welcome death and kiss it's face for stealing him away into oblivion and away from the brutish features of his imagination's executioner. As Mathis set his jaw and indigently pushed himself up from the ground to look his murderer in the eye before death, a final act of pride before his fall. He was shocked to meet the eyes of an angel.

"Truly I have passed on to the next life. Even the angels reach out to comfort me." he muttered as his body sagged slightly.

In his near death delirium Mathis didn't have the ability to differentiate an angel for a spacer. Mathis looked like he had one foot in the grave. His cheeks were sunken in and the pallor of his skin was ash grey in the iridescent light cast by the console behind him. Blood trickled from his head where it had intimately embraced the controls with a violent slam that had furthered his cognitive mind from his body. His head was most likely concussed, but he wouldn't find out until later. As his savior moved to help him up, pain exploded across his abdomen. In his right mind he would have cried out in agony, but in his current state he could only whimper.

Feeling the firm grasp of Kilian's arm on his, he knew it was time to get up. His arms and legs were weak from a lack of oxygen and burned like he'd just finished a triathlon. Mathis was never really sure if he was able to get himself up or if Kilian had been forced to carry him the entire way to her ship. As he stood the remaining blood in his head decided to vacate and he blacked out. As he fell into the void he muttered, "It was a lucky shot..."

The next few days were filled with various images that Mathis wouldn't totally comprehend until he recovered. He remembered being dropped, then picked back up followed by a few expletives in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. He remembered white light pouring down on him and when he tried to look down he was forced to lay back, but not before seeing the bloody mess that was his gut. He tried to panic, but a voice simply ordered more kolto into his system and he'd slipped back into his slumber. For a time Mathis felt as though he was floating. As if he'd been set on his back in the crisp blue waters of Naboo. He had dreams, nightmares really, of Aria shooting him, of the mandalorian's he'd been forced to kill, and of the treasure that had been ripped from his grasp.

For what seemed like an eternity he felt nothing. There was darkness and darkness alone. No sound, not shadows, just black. Mathis felt nothing for the darkness, he wasn't afraid or uncomfortable with it, he simply was. He'd accepted the darkness as the end. His absolute. Until a single beam of light shown into his eyes. The light was blinding, and it made him restless. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn't. It was as if someone was forcing them open. He tried to call out. To demand to be left alone, but his voice wouldn't call out. In a last ditch effort he threw up his hands to shield his face only to be thrust back into the realm of the conscious.

Confused and frightened, by the sudden existence of the surrounding world Mathis stared dumbly into the eyes of a bothen. The furry creature released his grasp on Mathis' face and chuckled. Looking over it's shoulder the bothan said, "Told ya he wasn't dead."

@Galavant