Ask The Heart is an Arrow

[Song Wren]

If Song had to describe her descent into Scipio’s atmosphere in one word, it was chaotic. Short of a nightmare, really. Her ship was in complete disarray. Worst of all, she was side by side with Valerie fucking Kryze. During situations like these, she’d learned the Mandalorian was not very comforting company to keep.

“Where exactly am I supposed to put this thing down?” Song shouted over the whir and screeches of various cockpit alarms. She could have sworn one of the engines was trailing smoke. “There’s not exactly a landing strip placed conveniently between all these cliffs.”

Song gestured through the cockpit window out to Scipio’s white mountain panorama. The ridges were sharp and steep, the canyons too narrow to pass through, and yet there she was, trying desperately to stay under the radar and lay low. She didn’t want to risk the Alternative—should they have spies or scout droids situated around the planet—to track their arrival. To succeed, she and Val would need the element of surprise on their side.

But neither did she have any idea what to expect from the planet. Song may have traveled the stars, but she'd never had the... pleasure ...to visit an icy wasteland like Scipio. If anything, she was already hoping never to visit it again.

Her ship continued to flash with alarm, whining like a bratty child. She prayed a good kick under the control panel might fix it, but nothing quite did the job. “If this flying piece of junk doesn’t shut up soon, I think I’m going to—“ As if in response, the ship violently rattled, shaking Song in her seat. Her hand instinctively clutched the buckle over her chest, only to sigh in relief as she looked at the dashboard. Thankfully, none of the engines had blown. Yet.

“Unbelievable,” she murmured, though not as loud for fear the ship might actually be listening.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

“Won’t matter if there’s a landing strip or not if this piece of junk gets blown to hell in the atmosphere,” Val replied, flipping switches indiscriminately to quell the ringing in her ears. “Seriously, how long has it been since you got this thing an oil change?”

Not that an oil change would have solved any of the number of lights that were flashing in Val's face. She pulled knobs, flipped switches, and slammed levers in the hopes of at least getting some of them to go off; but nothing she tried worked. Finally, in her frustration, she reached for a funny shaped flap of hardware and yanked. The piece came off, much to her dismay. She stared at it for a solid minute, willing it not to be real. But nothing immediately exploded. Quite the contary, every instrument that had been screaming at them finally shut up.

“I don’t think this was supposed to come out,” Val said, frozen, as if waiting for the ship to crash into the side of a mountain or the hyperdrive to engage all on its own. When nothing happened, she shrugged and tossed the piece into the floorboards. “Well, at least it stopped the ringing.”

Val strolled over to Song's side of the cockpit and peered out the frosted viewport over the Mandalorian's shoulder. Ahead, there was naught but a sea of white, endless dunes of snow and ice. As Song had said, there was nothing that could properly be classes as a "landing zone," but a good pilot (and a Mandalorian with enough grit) knew that landing pads were for amateurs. Real pilots could put a ship down anywhere.

It was in that spirit that Val pointed to a strip of land jutting out from the snow a little ahead of the nose of Song's ship. “There. Put her down there.” @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song spotted where Val was pointing to immediately. With a button switch and a sharp incline of the steering levers, she forced the ship down through a glacial canyon of white and crystallized blue, infested with jutting rocks and boulders. Had she been a more experienced pilot, the flight between the ridges would have been a breeze. But she was average at best, and with the transport already having engine troubles, Song found herself frequently bumping against the canyon walls.

It was only with a final push that they exited the gorge and crashed into a small clearing. Clumps of snow smacked into the cockpit windshield. Her seat rattled for several long moments, before finally, everything came to a standstill. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The worst was over. At least, until they had to get offworld.

Best to leave that to the Kryze, she thought glumly.

After unbuckling and staggering out from the cockpit, she raised a single finger at Valeska. “Not a word,” Song grumbled. She didn’t have to be told twice about her godsforsaken transport ship. Neither was she in the mood to argue—it was already taking her everything not to vomit right there.

By the exit ramp, she slammed on a lever and stepped outside into the crisp, cold air of Scipio. “I suppose your plan was for us just to hike over a cliffside?” Song said sarcastically, surveying the frozen wastes. “Do you have any idea where this prison is, anyways? Because I don’t remember it being invisible.”

Mountains stretched on for miles. A sea of white and grey under the evening light. The sun was just falling from its afternoon high, tinting the fog that ringed the peaks in a pale orange, and the snow had taken on a glossy sheen. It was awfully similar to Krownest, only barren of trees and wildlife, but the sight of snow-capped mountains was enough to make her heart ache for home.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

“The prison,” Val said, descending the ramp, “is carved into the cliff below us. As I said on Taris, they’re open air cells, carved at a slant so that the prisoner eventually gets tired of fighting the slide towards the edge and just falls off. Very effective way of getting rid of people you don’t like, provided they don’t have a way of surviving the fall.”

And most didn't. The flat earth beneath the cliffs were famous for the red stains that could never be washed away. The slush of ice and snow covering it was also known as the Pulp because of all the bodies that had been ground into their baser elements upon impact. Val flinched at the thought, all while admiring the utility of the place. So little had to be expended on security or technology to keep the prisoners in; because, if they wanted to live, they would stay in. And if they didn't, well, problem solved anyways.

“Fortunately for us, the prisoners we’re looking for are close to the top of the cliff,” Val continued. “Unfortunately, it’ll be rather obvious if two Mandalorians are seen flying into one of the cells from the village below.” She pointed to the structures peaking up in the distance, the obvious guard towers watching the cliff prison from afar. “So, what’s your play boss? Are we doing this dirty or are we doing this slick?”

Personally, Val hoped they were doing things dirty. Sneaking around was a lot of effort only to usually get caught anyways. At least if you went in guns blazing, you could get that part over with from the beginning. But Song struck her as a proper Mandalorian. One who liked to handle matters discreetly first and explosively if all else failed. One way or another, if Val had her way, Song would be seeing things in reverse by the time they left Scipio. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

As they both hiked through the snow, moving toward the steep bluffs ahead, Song listened intently to what Valeska had to say. Internally, she mapped out the prison complex, trying to imagine the open-air cells carved into the cliffside and the inmate they would have to break out. A plan began to shape in her mind, the pieces coming together. Being stealthy and fighting dirty would prove risky, but those were always the best kind of plans.

After all, what was a heist without the looming threat of death? If she’d come to shake up Scipio and the Alternative, then she would come in guns blazing.

“Why not both?” Song replied, smirking beneath her helmet. “Because they’re going to be a lot more interested in what I’m going to do than what you will.” She cracked her neck. “I’m thinking we split up. I can fly down and distract one of the guard towers. Put the whole prison on alert. And while they’re focusing all their attention on trying to shoot me down, you can sneak below and grab our man.”

Nearing the cliffside, she looked back in the direction of her ship, finding it was camouflaged well among the rocks and ice of the glacier. “You know who to look for, right? Pick someone who’s been inside the Vault, and try not to be flashy. I do hate sharing the spotlight.”

Song checked her things one last time, including the sword clung on her back. She wasn’t sure if she’d need it, not for this particular task, but it had been quite a while since the last time it was put to use. The blade was practically begging to be wielded again. “When you’ve got our man,” she continued, “meet me back at the ship. Do not come after me.”

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

A normal person might have balked at Song’s “plan” (if her insanity could be called a plan at all); but Val was far from ordinary. Her smile was brighter than the snow glittering at her feet and she slapped Song on the shoulder, a sign of her approval. “And here I was worried you were going to be boring.”

She slid her helmet into place. “Next time I get to do the fun shit, got me? Try not to get killed before then, too—your ship is a piece of shit and I don’t think I’m getting off this ice ball without you at the helm.”

Val parted on that half-truth. Song was definitely going to have the more entertaining role in this prison break, but Val was secretly determined to make her part a tad more flavored with excitement. And with Song providing the distraction, she would have a slight window of leeway with which to break the prisoner out in her own blazing style.

She started across the snow drifts and quickly discovered that even here, Song had the advantage. She could just fly to her destination, but Val had no such luxury. She would have to walk, trudging and arduous a journey though it may be, to avoid initial suspicion. And that was enough to make her swear that she would never willingly set foot on a snow planet again. Or, at the very least, she would learn to ask for more pay up front. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Opinion noted.” She winked at the Kryze, visible only by the tilt of her helmet, and watched as she led out into the snow and toward the cliffside. There, she would likely descend the rocks, searching for a way in, or by plucking out the nearest prisoner and hauling them back to the ship. It made no difference to Song. Her job was to make sure nobody saw her do it, which was easier said than done, but she’d mowed through enough sentry fodder not to be too concerned.

She brandished her blaster rifle Longmu, and rose into the sky.

The jetpack would take some getting used to. Since her father had gifted it to her back on Krownest, alongside a new set of armor to replace her brother’s, she had yet to properly train with it. Now was perhaps the third time she’d ever flown with it, and it was obvious as she maneuvered through the mountain fog and past the open cells. Several men watched as she did and began shouting in earnest, probably hoping she might rescue them.

She smirked. They had no idea what was coming.

Hovering to the side, Song neared one of the guard towers. The soldiers within spotted her almost immediately, and waking from whatever nap they’d been having, grabbed their blasters. An alarm sounded over the mountain. Red light flashed across her vision. She did her best to evade the blaster shots, tilting left and right like a broken pendulum, but it was only a matter of time before one struck home, or damaged her jetpack too severely to continue.

Song glanced up the cliffside, hoping that Valeska had managed to slip into one of the cells. “I hope you’ve started your search,” she said over the comms. “Because you’ve got five minutes.”

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

“Five minutes?” Val shouted into her comm, jogging towards the edge of the cliff. “This is a prisoner extraction, not a quick stop at the grocery store!”

The drop was steep, and already she had identified so many cells. So many potential options; but only one would be perfect for the job—and she only had five minutes to find them. Val cursed, internally and aloud. She deserved this, she supposed. She had gotten too used to working at her own pace, forgetting how quickly and ruthlessly other Mandalorians worked. She just had to remind herself of the pay. She would sleep better in a nest of credits.

Val’s jetpack roared to life, careening her over the edge of the cliff and suspending her in the air between Song’s distraction and the ice cells. Dozens of faces, some alien and some human, stared back at her in disbelief.

“Out of curiosity,” Val said into her comms. “You don’t have a thing against aliens, do you?”

She had already spotted one of the few Muuns in an ice cell. And he had spotted her. She didn’t know if he had sensed her intent; she just knew she had to get to him, in case he decided throwing himself over the edge to his death would be a more fortuitous ending than being kidnapped by two Mandalorians.

And that was exactly the choice he made.

The Muun prisoner catapulted to the end of his ice cell, just as Val rocketed towards him. Too little too late. He slid over the edge of his cell and plummeted towards the ground, Val screaming after him at top speed. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

“Aliens?” Song said incredulously into her comms. This was a remarkable conversation to be having in light of the carnage she was wreaking. “What do you mean ‘do I have a thing with aliens’? Wasn’t that the original plan? Listen, I don’t care if your target is a plant, just make sure they can get us into the Ice Vault and do it quickly, before I’m grafted to my own armor.”

Just as she said this, one of the soldiers in the guard tower closed in on her spot and fired. The blaster bolt struck home, red light filling her vision, but only a moment later, Song found she was unharmed. Unscathed. Perhaps by sheer, dumb luck, the shot had ricocheted off her shoulder, and the beskar within rang out like a chimed bell. Relief washed over her, followed by a jab of anger. She turned to the sentry responsible and instantly honed in on his location.

She unloaded her blaster into the tower, clearing the several guards stationed within by a matter of seconds. Too easy, she thought smugly, a grin on her face. She felt victorious, reminded of her old days as a bounty hunter, mowing through pirate encampments for credits.

“Who’s next?” she said, to no one in particular. But like her mangled ship, it seemed the universe always had an answer.

A squadron of soldiers emerged from the lower entrance. Set in black armor and breathing masks, fitting for their kind, they were armed not only with old Imperial blasters, but jetpacks, too. It didn’t take them long before they were rocketing toward her from the ground, just as the prisoner was falling toward it. Song cursed internally. Everything had gone to hell, and they hadn’t even come anywhere close to the Ice Vault.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

“Right,” Val muttered more to herself than to Song. “Alien it is, then.”

She was gaining on her falling target. Now, it was more of a question of if she would be able to pull up in time once she had him—or if she, as Song had put it, would become grafted to her own armor when her body slapped the icy ground.

As it were, she caught the leg of the falling Muun and pulled up in the nick of time, the flames of her jetpack pushing against the very ice below her to propel them back up again. Gods, he was heavy. Val accelerated, grinning beneath her helmet and on the cusp of comming Song to inform the other Mandalorian of her success, when she saw the next problem literally coming over the horizon. Ships.

Muun ships.

“Uh, Song,” Val warned. “What exactly are you doing over there? And why am I staring down a Muun patrol right now?”

Val liked her odds against most enemies; but one woman and a prisoner weren’t going to survive long against a pair of starfighters. @Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song cocked and pointed her blaster pistol at the incoming soldiers. One eye squinting, she aimed for the center flank and, sucking in a breath, pressed the trigger. Nothing. No bolt shot forward to destroy their little formation. There was only the click of an empty weapon, and the realization that she was out of ammunition. As if things could not get any worse.

She let out a sigh and reached for the sword tied to her back. “I suppose now is as good a time as any,” she whispered. Next thing she knew, Song hurled the blaster at the enemy, watching as it shattered into the helmet of one and bounced harmlessly against another. In all, she counted four targets. Four to one. And while they weren’t good odds, they were far better than those currently facing the Kryze, because as she came to blows, Song could distantly spot the pair of ships coming from over the mountains.

“Sorry, I’m a little preoccupied at the moment,” she replied over the comlink, her voice frantic and disgruntled as she spun her brother’s sword through the air, driving it into the first man who sailed into her reach. “Just get the prisoner out of here!”

With that, she flew up into the sky and, stalling her jetpack, dipped back down. The soldier she’d aimed for saw her coming and began firing at her in earnest, but it was too late. She leveled his shoulders with a clean swipe of her blade. As his lopped head plummeted to the ice, Song moved onto the next man, slamming a heel into his breathing mask. But just as she thought it was over, the fourth and last soldier caught her from behind. They wrestled in the air, kicking and punching one another like feral animals.

Then, spiraling out of control, they crashed hard into the open guard tower windows.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

It became quickly apparent that the starfighters weren’t meant for Song. Someone must have seen Val’s daring “rescue” of the falling Muun prisoner and sent a squadron after her. Which was, of course, great, because now she had to find some way to deal with them and get the prisoner back to the ship without being turned into particles by a stray cannon shot.

The fighters in question were a pair of old model TIEs, scraps the Empire had left on Scipio decades ago and which the Muuns must have requisitioned. Not impossible to deal with on her own, though the weight she was carrying made her odds slightly… less. It didn’t help that the prisoner was kicking at her, desperately trying to free himself and plummet back to his death.

“I have to say,” Val screamed at him over the roar of the wind. “You are admirably determined to die!”

The Muun replied with something unintelligible, his voice and the words they carried lost in the iconic roar of the incoming TIE engines.

“Just hang on,” she shouted back at him, and pulled into a spin just as a pair of green lances shot past her and exploded somewhere below. The TIEs had opened fire. Apparently, they didn’t care so much for retrieving their prisoner—rather, they seemed to want the both of them quite conclusively dead. And Val was determined to deny them that pleasure.

She inclined her head and let the missile sticking out of the top of her jetpack spring free. It screamed ahead, puncturing the “eye” of one of the incoming TIEs, and sending a plume of flames high into the sky. The blast of the explosion threw her back, but also knocked the remaining TIE off-course. Val yelled as she fought to control her jetpack again; and, when she succeeded, throttled back towards the safety of the cliff. She had shaken her pursuers for the moment, but she would be ready when they came back again.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

The Mandalorian hit the ground with a loud, painful thud. She rolled, raising her forearms to cushion the blow, but she could already feel the bruises forming on her ribs and the lance of pain in her left wrist. Nothing a little bacta spray couldn’t fix. Still, now Song was stuck inside the very prison complex she and Valeska had hoped to crack open, and without the freedom of the sky.

She almost missed wearing her brother’s old armor. At least then, the heavy plating and bindings underneath would have absorbed the shock of her landing.

She staggered to a rise. River’s blade was impaled in the soldier who had so stupidly tackled her midair, his blood pooling around him. Song looked down at him as he breathed his last. “That’s mine,” she said. Then, without hesitation, she pulled it out of his chest. The sentry barely flinched, and with a final cough, his eyes took on the glossy sheen of death.

As she wiped the blood from her sword with the man’s clothing, a squad of armored droids poured into the guard tower. They surrounded her, blasters raised, voices shouting. The rough landing had already done enough damage on her ears, and the mechanical demands for her to surrender only made matters worse. She was so tired of being told what to do. Tired of having a gun pointed her way. Tired of dealing with one beating after the next.

There was no telling if Valeska had survived. No word if she’d escaped with the prisoner. Had they really traveled all the way to Scipio, planned every detail, only to fail at the first stage? She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it. So instead, she settled for the unbelievable. The impossible.

Song’s grip on her sword turned iron.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

Five minutes had come and gone, and Val hadn’t the faintest clue where Song was. The other Mandalorian hadn’t uttered a word over the comms since their last transmission. For all Val knew, she was captured or dead; but she’d also learned never to undersell the skills of a fellow Mandalorian. And it was that thought that drove her to finish the mission, Song or no Song.

She landed on the cliffside, dropping her prisoner into the snow as she crashed into the ice. The Muun immediately sprang up and beelined for the edge, determined to throw himself off again. “Oh, come on!” she shouted. “If you’re really that determined to die, I’ll kill you myself when we’re done with you.”

She aimed a wrist at him and launched a whipchord from her gauntlet. The thin rope wound around the Muun’s long legs and sent him crashing, face-first, into the snow. Again, his words of protest were muffled, as he chewed through a mouthful of snow. Val used that moment to reel him back towards her; but, before she could drag him very far, the familiar whine of an incoming TIE filled her ears and she whirled in the direction of the remaining fighter.

Val threw herself out of the way just as a jade spear of energy knifed through the air and exploded where she had been standing. Her whipchord dragging the Muun out of the blast zone was all that ensured his survival as the TIE barreled passed for another run. She was honestly surprised he hadn’t tried to throw himself in front of its cannons yet—it would have been a far more effective way to die.

Instead, she was able to pull herself back up right and glare down at him. “Do stay here, won’t you, while I take care of that?”

His nod was curt, but all the signal she needed to release him from the chord and rocketed upward into the sky.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Song began with the droid closest to her. A sharp decapitation, its head sailed through the air and shattered against the wall in a burst of wires and mechanical parts. That was when the blaster bolts started flying.

She dropped and spun in a circle. Her sword, flashing through the air, cut through their legs like butter, sending them into the ground. One legless droid tried crawling toward her, but she raised her boot high and caved in its head. Although this was her chance to escape, maybe to leap from the broken windows and back into the sky, her jetpack had been disabled. Damaged from her midair fall. There was no easy way to get out of this situation, other than by fighting her way out.

The Mandalorian would have to escape the old-fashioned way.

She continued down the line of droids, plunging deeper into the prison complex. The hallway she entered was dank and cold, likely carved out by the very inmates that had once been imprisoned there, and it was swarming with armored droids—Imperial, too. She had a distinct feeling the Alternative had a hand in all of this, especially considering the TIE fighters that were currently hot on Valeska’s trail, but it made no difference to Song.

Trash was trash.

She took them out one by one. Dodging and weaving between the flash of blaster bolts, she drove her sword into the chest of a second-generation battle droid. She skewered its insides, causing oil to spill out on the tiled floor, and turned it into her own personal, makeshift shield. More bolts continued to launch her way only to shatter harmlessly against the droid’s back. Once she was close enough to another, she cast it aside and cut through them next.

Over and over again, she moved down the hallway, running alongside walls or sliding across the tiled floor, making her way deeper into the prison. They needed a distraction, after all, and Song would deliver.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

Val was too small a target for the remaining TIE. Even behind her helmet, she could smell ozone as green lasers streaked past her; but none of them got close enough to hit their mark. But her greatest advantage was also her weakness. She was too small to dent the fighter’s hull, and she had wasted the last of her rockets on the first one.

That didn’t mean she was out of options.

“Song,” she said into her comms calmly. “You’re going to want to take down their communications if you haven’t already. ‘Cause if we don’t have their attention yet, we’re about to.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Val tucked her limbs tightly against her body and rocketed back towards the compound. Her plan was a working one. If she couldn’t blow the TIE up, she could make it blow itself up. But to actually pull that off would require a bit of theatrics on her part.

The TIE did as she believed it would, following her closely, forcing her to weave left and right to avoid being vaporized. As she closed in on the compound, it would be a lot less willing to unload its payload where the pilot’s comrades were currently fighting Song. Not that Val had the same compunction.

She aimed her body at a narrow gap between one of the watchtowers and the main processing facility and shot forward. The TIE followed, but, just at the last second, she pulled up, nearly scraping the tower as she ascended. The TIE could not move so quickly, and, in the ensuing confusion, its pilot lost control, crashing through the gap in such a way that its wings were sheared off, leaving only the cockpit ball to fall to an explosive end.

“Pursuit dealt with,” Val shouted over the comms, already veering back around towards the cliffs. “Heading back to collect the prisoner now.”

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

In the aftermath of her massacre, Song stood in the center of the hallway, panting and out of breath. Tar and black oil dripped from the edge of her blade. It was like she’d been transported back to her old life as a bounty hunter, fighting for her life in the dunes alongside Kanan, or in the dark streets of Nar Shaddaa tracking down spice dealers and Syndicate gangsters. Her eyes felt bloodshot. Adrenaline coursed through every vein in her body.

Only the mechanical sound of Valeska’s voice in her ear snapped her back into reality, almost as if a bucket of cold water had been splashed over her head. The communications, she repeated. Take down the communications.

Song didn’t bother replying or waiting around. She dove even deeper into the complex, wandering the hallway until coming across a door plated in titanium. She scoffed. Like that would be enough to stop her. Whereas the fuel lines in her jetpack had been severely damaged, the missile attached above was not. So, after stepping back at a safe distance, she leaned over and aimed toward the door. She swore the security camera posted above it had flinched, like a pair of eyes widening.

She fired.

The hallway violently shook. The door caved in easily enough, blowing through whatever guards had been waiting behind. And Song, undeterred, strode clean through the soot and smoke. Inside, she found the nearest control panel and sliced it apart with her brother’s sword. When she was finished with the rest, making sure the screen above was dead, she paged Valeska, “Communications are down. I’ll meet you back at the ship shortly.”

She turned, not just to leave, but to find a new jetpack to steal.

The Mandalorian spotted several hanging by a near empty armory. A prison guard, clearly injured, was crawling toward it in a pitiful attempt to escape. Song didn’t bother finishing him off, and instead reached for the jetpack first. She looked at him sternly. “Mine.” Then, she attached the piece of machinery to her back as the man watched on. It wasn’t Mandalorian, but it would serve her purposes for now.

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

Val’s jetpack was running low on fuel. Not that she would need it for any more quick escapes—not unless the Muuns sent reinforcements, and she sorely hoped they wouldn’t. By the time she reached the shelf of the ice cliff, it was already sputtering out, depositing her roughly into the cold ice. She half-expected to find the Muun prisoner had finally taken his life in her absence, but he was more or less right where she left him, cowering a few meters away in a bank of snow.

When he saw her approaching, he skittered back, as if he were about to run. Val drew her weapon and pointed it at his head, shaking her own to let him know what a bad idea that would be. She was in no mood to pursue anyone else today.

“What could you possibly want to have gone to these lengths?” the Muun rasped against the cold winds.

“To be completely honest with you,” Val replied, “I don’t need a great deal of motivation to go to these lengths. But as it were, we need something from you. And when I say you, I mean the Ice Vault.” She cocked back the barrel on her gun. “But we’ll discuss that when my partner arrives… any minute now.”

She hoped Song would arrive in a minute, at least. The other Mandalorian had been suspiciously quiet over the comms, and that generally didn’t bode well for missions such as these.

@Feng Mian

 

[Song Wren]

Like the first time she’d used her jetpack, this new one took some getting used to. It was old Imperial tech, like everything else used in that godforsaken prison, and even if she knew the gear inside and out, the fact still remained: it was shit.

By the time Song returned to the ship—a long time, at that—Valeska was waiting for her on the docking ramp with a lanky Muun hogtied a few paces away from her. Behind them, smoke rose in columns from the ruins of the facility they had just wasted. Overseeing the carnage, Song distantly wondered why they had even bothered with a distraction. If destruction was the point, they could have just attacked the ice cells and been done with it.

Instead, she’d lost the jetpack gifted to her by her father and dulled River’s blade with droid parts. Everything was a mess.

Her eyes trailed up the ramp to where Valeska had deposited the spoils of her trial. The Muun was nothing impressive. He wore standard prison garb, nothing that would suggest he was once a banker, or even an employee at the Ice Vault. She hoped he was worth all of this trouble. She was already certain they were going to have to fight their way off of Scipio now. Nothing they did would avoid scrutiny.

Annoyingly, Valeska was utterly unperturbed. She did realize they still had work to do on Scipio, right? Breaking into the Ice Vault was the whole reason they came. Now, security would be crawling all over the bank, and Song’s chances of getting the sword were diminished. It wasn’t necessarily Valeska’s fault—Song was just as responsible for the destruction as she had been—but she needed something to blame, something to be irritated at, and Valeska’s casual attitude was giving her probable cause.

“So much for being stealthy,” she said bitterly. “That was an absolute disaster.”

@Mockingjay

 

[Valeska Kryze]

“It could have gone much worse,” Val replied, painfully unaware of Song’s annoyance thanks to the helmet covering her head. “Those TIEs, for example. Old, barely any upkeep. I mean, have you seen some of the hardware the New Republic is using these days? That would have been a problem.”

She stood and strolled up the ramp, reaching lazily for the Muun’s bindings so she could drag him back up into the maw of the ship. The warmth she found there was welcome. Her armor had a degree of thermal protection; but Scipio was not unlike other ice-laden planets. There wasn’t good enough armor in the entire galaxy to keep out that kind of cold forever. The Muun in her grasp shivered. She wasn’t exactly sure what Muuns were made of, but she was surprised he hadn’t keeled over from hypothermia yet.

“I already tried interrogating the fucker,” Val said, slipping her helmet off once they were safely inside, the ramp closing behind them. “He is surprisingly resistant to beskar-covered fists. Figured you might have a method of loosening his lips.”

The prisoner coughed, sputtering phlegm onto the hard floor of Song’s ship. “You’re both wasting your time,” he said. “You’ve got no leverage over me, and I’d just as sooner dive over the cliffside and be done with this all—so by all means, keep punching me. See if it gets you anyways.”

Val gestured to him as if to say See? “He’s been spouting off some version of that speech since I took care of that last TIE. I told him my partner could be very convincing. So, go ahead on then, be convincing.”

@Feng Mian