Caught in Enemy Territory

[Hannah]

How had this happened?

One moment, Serra had been going to pick up a handful of rebels on some backwater planet in enemy territory. Sure, it was risky, and sure, there was a a large chance that Serra wouldn’t be coming back, but for some reason she hadn’t expected that large chance to kick in. She never thought the Empire would be waiting for Rebels, did they really think we were stupid enough to travel into their territory? Well, I mean we’re desperate for troops, so it’s not like we had a choice, but how had they known she was going to be there?
And now she was about to die.

“We’re going down!” Serra screamed as her ship began to spiral towards the surface. “I repeat, we’re going down!” Serra watched with horror as her ship, (carrying not just her but a handful of others,) spiraled towards the ground, hitting the rough dirt as it skid across the floor. In a sudden horror, Serra’s eyes began to close, and the woman blacked out on some remote planet, her demise practically ensured.

OOC: Damn writer’s block. This is a really bad post, because I couldn’t really think of anything to write, sorry.

 

[Apocrypha]

Anything just out of sight, curiously, vanished - noting his eroded sense of time and the overwhelming tingle of deja vu, Rorik determined that he was in a dream. A dream, or a vision of sorts; the young Jedi was not prophetic, though he knew that the Force could speak to any beings sensitive to its beckoning. As he scanned his surroundings, he realized that they continuously shifted, transforming and becoming garbled amalgamates of his father's apartment and his quarters in the temple on Coruscant.

He was seated on the edge of his nondescript bunk - somewhere between reasonably comfortable and particularly unsavory, as it was in life - and at his side was a young woman with shoulder-length black hair, a touch or two of grey around her bangs, and a striking set of ponderous grey eyes.

Those familiar irises gazed upon him with a mixture of sorrow and admiration. A tearful smile broke out across her face - one that spoke of a tremendous amount of affection and understanding - and she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Rorik's face, cupping his cheek against her palm. The sensation was real, vivid, and comforting to a degree that startled Rorik.

"Sweetheart," she cooed gently, her voice a strange mixture of coming from a great distance and whispering directly into his ear. "You're so brave... don't be afraid." He stared into her eyes as she repeated: "Don't be afraid."

He woke abruptly and with a start, a scream dying upon his lips. Dimly aware of the fact that he was pouring sweat, Rorik swung his legs over the edge of his cot and massaged the back of his neck. The dream lingered upon his memory for just a few moments before fading into obscurity; with that, he rose from the bed and clothed himself, tying his hair back tight against his head and trudging out into the daylight.

The sun's rays nearly blinded Rorik as it loomed upon the horizon, showering dawn upon the rolling hills and plains of Dantooine; grass rippled underfoot and thorny blba trees swayed to and fro in the gentle wind as a herd of Iriaz grazed in the distance. The Jedi inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of the farm world, relishing the beauty of the landscape - he had failed to do so during his time upon Tython, and refused to make the same mistake now. He was moving on from his past, and this archaeological mission was the first step of that path: he would devote himself to his work and his training.

* * *​

"Thank you for your hospitality," Rorik said gratefully, bowing his head to the couple in front of him - nearing 'elderly,' with grey hair and weakening muscles, the Jedi had offered to assist with their morning's chores in exchange for a night's stay in the cramped shed behind their homestead. With enough room for Rorik's tall, lean figure to lay down in, the shed was more than enough.

"No, no," the older man insisted, "thank you. Ever since our boys went off to join the Imperium, we've had a real time of keepin' the place up and running - and you work good, son! Sure you didn't grow up on a farm?"

Rorik shook his head; "No, sir," he replied, chuckling. "I grew up on Coruscant - there aren't quite as many farms there as there are on Dantooine."

"I'd imagine not," he replied, glancing at the planes to the northeast thoughtfully. "Are you leaving, then, son?"

"Yes, sir," Rorik replied, turning his gaze upon the same planes. "To the Fields of Banir - I'm doing a bit of sightseeing."

"Interesting place to see sights at - but you'd better get to it. Good luck, friend."

The Jedi shook both of their hands and shouldered his leather pack, trudging off towards the northeast; towards the Fields of Banir, and the considerably old ruins of a Jedi Temple.

* * *​

Closer to midday, Rorik was working up a respectable sweat as he made his way through the Fields of Banir, keeping his eyes peeled for the ruins of an ancient Jedi Temple rumored to be in the area. Cresting a small ridge littered with clusters of trees and a jagged rock formation nearby, the Jedi stopped to get his bearings, taking a knee and setting his pack on the ground. Reaching inside, he fumbled past the red-and-grey lightsaber hilt concealed within - Rorik had thought better of displaying the weapon openly on a planet in the middle of Imperial territory - and retrieved a grey, durasteel coated water container. He slid the cap off and took a few long gulps before replacing it in his bag.

"Oh, hi there," he spoke gently to the Iriaz that had wandered to within a meter of him. "It's okay," he reassured the beast, reaching out and doing his best to sooth its spirit. "You don't get a lot of humanoids out here, do you? Not the most well-traveled planet, I'll give you that." It drew nearer and lowered its great, green snout to partake of the Jedi's scent. Rorik stroked the bridge of its nose affectionately and smiled - he always enjoyed making new friends.

The Iriaz bucked and tore into the nearby brush, though, and Rorik bolted to his feet as a hissing, smoking starship came screaming into the atmosphere, roaring past overhead and leaving a black, acrid cloud in its wake.

"What the -" he murmured to himself, watching as Imperial QIE fighters slid into view, peppering the shuttle with laser fire as it abruptly nosed into the ground, tearing through a quarter-klick of grass and dirt and stones before coming to a stop. The two starfighters hustled out of sight - their job was done, Rorik knew. Now they would send a small drop team of troopers to either apprehend or kill anyone who had survived the crash, depending on why they had shot the shuttle down.

Well, if the Imperium wanted them dead, that was a good enough reason for Rorik to save them.

The young Jedi hurried toward the ship, using the foliage cover nearby as much as possible to avoid aerial detection. Perhaps fifteen minutes after their crash landing, Rorik arrived on-scene; the aft-right engine was aflame, the aft-left engine roughly six hundred meters behind the ship. Smoke filled the air, and Rorik eyed the spreading fire warily. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, forcing down the fear that threatened to take hold of his being - the fire had not neared them yet. He would just have to act quickly.

It took a bit of work, but he managed to pry the durasteel door free from the side of the shuttle. He climbed aboard, deftly moving from seat to seat and inspecting each shipmate, reaching out with the Force to touch them; none of them had survived the crash. He cursed himself, even though he couldn't have done anything -

Wait! There it was - faint, unconscious, but a beat of life. Rorik slipped aft; in the corner, a young woman lay, knocked unconscious, several lacerations on her face and head, but alive. After determining that she could safely be moved, the Jedi lifted her effortlessly onto his shoulder, carrying her out of the shuttle and out into open breeze of Dantooine. Flames licked at the shuttle, and Rorik had to fight the urge to return to the shuttle as he moved further away; it would become an explosive hazard sooner, rather than later, and within a few minutes an Imperial troop squad would arrive to search the wreckage. Beyond that, of course, the rest of the crew had most certainly perished - and there was nothing Rorik could do but accept that.

As the sound of incoming vessels blared from the south, Rorik glanced around for a place to hide with the survivor - there! It was a ways away, but the rock formation Rorik had spied earlier contained a naturally occurring cavern that ran for quite some distance underneath the Fields of Banir. It seemed, too, that the entrance was less than noticeable - the Jedi had only located it by projecting his senses outward and snagging upon a lucky wrinkle.

He hurried, using tree coverage once again and slipping inside the tight mouth of the cavern, moving deeper into the cave as the hum of repulsorlifts began to fill the clearing outside. Rorik laid the young woman against one of the smooth rock walls, glancing down the tunnel; a faint light emanated further ahead, and light was no longer visible behind him. Without knowing what lay ahead in the cavern, Rorik dare not chance running into a gaggle of hostile cavern dwelling creatures with an unconscious woman slung across his shoulder.

He hunkered down and waited, patiently, closing his eyes and centering himself, waiting for her to regain consciousness.