Modding, Mauling, and Mysteries
After the revelations of the previous day, Querrick was more than a little surprised at the sudden lack of interest the crew held for his recently revealed “secret” past life. Maybe they were now scared of him? The stories of the Mandalorians certainly could warrant that, especially the outrageously exaggerated tales he’d heard being recounted by too-loud drunks in any cantina he’d entered with Balor, when he was younger.
Those stories always made him laugh. Well, scoff more like. In his opinion, Balor wasn’t worthy of such tall tales. None of them were. But, that was then. When his view of the galaxy was so much simpler. Nowadays… he wasn’t so sure anymore. And that thought bothered him.
Shaking his head, he realized that the crew being frightened of him was probably off the mark. They, like he with them, more likely simply didn’t care. So what if he was raised Mandalorian? Just made him that much more competent as a security chief.
Shaking his head again, he realized he’d been thinking too much. Nothing worse than being stuck inside his own head. What good would that do? Deciding to shake it all off, he got to work on his latest workout routine. It’d be a long journey back to Ord Mantell, after all. Might as well spend the time productively.
The journey was quiet, and Knoll was more than happy to see, that when they arrived at Ord Mantell, there was no longer any Imperial blockade blocking the Outer Rim planet. He still had no idea why there was such a thing in the first place. But he was happy to see that there would be no repeat performance this time.
The coordinates of where they were to drop off the strange barrels of Bantha powder were not exactly clear. But Butter seemed to find his way all the same. In no time at all, they were approaching a strange fortress of scrap smack dab in the middle of Ord Mantell’s massive scrapyards. Almost imperceptible at this height, Butter lowered the ship onto a tiny landing pad hidden among the massive piles of refuse.
A gruff voice then hailed them over comms, ordering them to unload the shipment and be on their way.
All too happy to oblige, to be out of this filthy mess, Knoll hurried to the cargo bay, along with Butter. As the bay doors opened, and the ramp lowered, Knoll spotted a very large Trandoshan waiting for them. He said nothing, and did not move, but eyed them menacingly.
As the last of the barrels were offloaded, Knoll was eager to return to the ship. That was when he heard Butter call out, “We will accept payment now, please.” As Knoll turned to find the droid, he saw that he was extremely close to the giant alien.
The Trandoshan simply scoffed, still not moving and said, “Not my job.”
“We will accept payment now, please.” Butter repeated, edging closer.
The Trandoshan smiled, at least, that’s how it looked to Knoll, and replied, “You’ll get paid electronically ya stupid droid. Now get off my landing platform and out of my sight.”
At this, something clearly went haywire in the droid. Butter suddenly started shouting an endless slew of profanities at the Trandoshan, sometimes in languages Knoll could only guess at what they were. After a solid two minutes of profane shouting, Knoll watched as the Trandoshan took a single step back, readied it’s hand, and then slashed Butter across the face, leaving three giant gashes with its claws.
At this, Knoll was preparing for a fight. But was shocked as it didn’t escalate to that. Butter simply went silent, backed off, and headed back into the ship. Knoll then saw the Trandoshan let out a smug laugh, before turning to head back into the scrap fortress.
Alone and confused, Knoll looked back and forth at the two individuals who were no longer in sight. His datapad then pinged, indicating that the payment had been received.
Looking back and forth again, then at his datapad, he muttered, “Yeah. Okay.” Then scurried back into the safety of the ship.
“The haran was that?” Querrick asked Knoll.
Sadra too was curious at the bizarre exchange they had watched form within the cargo bay. To her, the Cathar seemed more disappointed that it didn’t turn into a fight, more than any actual concern for his crew mates.
Knoll just gestured hopelessly, clearly equally confused.
“Well,” Querrick continued, clearly already putting the past incident behind him, “Considering we’re a stone’s throw from Worlport, mind if we stop by there? We still have all that stormtrooper armor that we can’t use until we get it modded. Must be some sort of armor smith there that can help us.”
Sadra liked this idea. This crew seemed to get shot at much more than she ever thought possible. Some half decent protection would be nice. Luckily, the others seemed to agree, and they were soon off to the relative civility of Worlport.
Their search for an armorer was not going as well as they had hoped, unfortunately. After scouring the markets, no one seemed capable or willing to assist them. As they continued their fruitless quest, though, suddenly, Butter started going berserk once again, much to the chagrin of Sadra and the others.
They watched as Butter started shouting in the streets, asking for an armor smith, getting right into peoples’ faces demanding to know the whereabouts of the armorer. Eventually, he was becoming such a nuisance that the citizens in the streets began throwing trash at the malfunctioning droid. This did not seem to phase Butter as he continued asking and shouting, getting more and more obnoxious by the minute.
Sadra was just about to step in. She didn’t know much about droids, but she knew enough, she hoped, to at least shut him down for a minute. Maybe a reboot would get the thing to stop acting so erratic? But her thoughts were pointless as Butter suddenly slammed into a wall, not watching where he was going, knocking him to the ground.
The three watched on for a mere second, before the droid awoke, jumping back to his feet. He was no longer shouting or making a nuisance of himself, at least. But he turned to them and said, “We can do this, guys! Come on! We’ll find them!”
His personality had taken a complete change of course, Sadra noted. He was suddenly unusually enthusiastic, pulling along an unwilling and confused Querrick by the hand. Sadra couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. Their size difference and Querrick’s clearly unwilling confusion made them look like a parent pulling along a reluctant child.
Much to all their shock, Butter did indeed succeed. He had somehow found a hidden armorer his shop located deep below the storefront facade. The armor smith was a big, ugly, gruff looking Human who neglected to offer his name.
Querrick had explained the job needed, but the smith’s prices were far outside the range that they could afford. What followed was what felt like hours of pointless haggling. No one could strike a deal with the stubborn armorer. As Sadra glanced over the shop, seeing the various employees hard at work, an idea struck her.
Interrupting Knoll’s latest attempt at trying to offer their services as a delivery company to the obstinate Human, Sadra spoke up, “How much to just rent your shop?”
“Huh?” The Human asked.
“Instead of hiring you to do the job, how much to allow me access to your tools, and, perhaps, your insights, so I can do the work myself?” Sadra asked.
The Human got a look on his face, perhaps, thinking? Then replied, “Hmm… I like that idea… How’s about you do me this delivery job, then the shop is yours to use as you see fit for the next three days? Like I said, I really need this delivery done. Soon.”
“You got a deal.” Sadra replied.
The other’s looked a little insultingly surprised at the Elomin’s initiative. Sadra simply brushed the looks off. It’s not like their arguing, begging, and posturing was doing any good, besides.
“Let’s get moving boys.” She said, heading out the shop.
Querrick was glad to have that nonsense over with. That Human thought way too highly of himself. Their work was shoddy at best. Nothing like what he’d seen in the past. Nothing like what he’d known. Nothing like what he could have had…
Shaking his head, Querrick growled at himself. Why were all these lingering thoughts plaguing him lately? He knew the answer to that already, though. He just didn’t like it.
Instead, he decided to focus on the job at hand. Two crates full of weapons, ammunition, and armor. The Human obviously had a specific clientele. At least they were local. It was just an hour’s flight from Worlport. The fact that the Human couldn’t arrange this himself was baffling. But Querrick hardly cared. It was better than shelling out a thousand credits just to alter some inferior plastic.
As they approached the drop site, Querrick opened the cargo bay doors and lowered the ramp. The scene was familiar. A rural village, full of a myriad of alien species who clearly didn’t belong there. All armed to the teeth, and keeping a wary eye on the incoming ship. Mercenaries. Querrick rolled his eyes. Or bandits. Probably bandits. He didn’t bother pulling his own rifle out. No need to spook the idiots. But he kept a careful watch on all of them. Trigger happiness was a common illness in groups like these.
Querrick watched wearily as Butter and Knoll delivered the crates.
“Open it.” The apparent leader demanded.
“Butter.” Knoll replied, nodding.
Butter ripped off the tops of the crates, and allowed the leader to peek inside. The bandit leader whooped and hollered, “We got the goods boys!”
The other bandits cheered.
“Get lost!” The leader then yelled at Knoll and Butter.
Querrick watched the droid’s reaction anxiously, expecting yet another erratic freak out, but was relieved to see that Butter simply turned and headed back to the ship, with Knoll following close behind.
As they returned to the armorer, Querrick was surprised that the Human was now being so accommodating. He allowed Sadra access to one of his many workbenches and even offered advice here and there as she worked to rework the stormtrooper armor into something less recognizable.
She was finished in less time than Querrick had anticipated, and even he had to admit, it looked like she had done a half decent job, considering the materials.
As Querrick donned the armor, memories flooded him, overwhelmed him. Memories of his past, his upbringing, his one time beliefs and religion. Memories that he had mocked and dismissed. This armor was hardly the same quality, far inferior. But it was armor.
He had never had the right to wear the beskar’gam, of course. He was not yet of age. A mere foundling. Not yet of the Mando’ade. But Balor had always promised him that when he reached the proper age, and passed the trials, that he would be beskaryc, like all the others. It was never something he’d wanted then. He hated the idea of it. But now…
A feral roar suddenly ripped out of Querrick’s lungs, breaking his reverie. He then turned to Butter, an excited glint in his eye, he said, “Where’s the nearest fight club? I want to try this stuff out!”
Butter was unsure what had caused the tiny Cathar to suddenly want a fight. He seemed wholly uninterested in the idea during their last visit. But he was more than happy to lead the creature to an old haunt of his. The cantina/fighting pit was on the smaller scale. Nothing too grand. A little dingy. But it would suffice for what the Cathar seemed to want. Butter noticed he was almost frothing at the mouth, so eager to tear into someone. Again, he wasn’t sure what the cause of all this was. But he liked the change in his crew mate.
Much to his surprise, the Doctor also wanted to join them. Butter was hardly one to turn down such requests, so, he allowed the Arkanian to join them. An Arkanian in a fighting pit. Butter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such a thing. The thought entertained him.
As they entered the lower levels of the small arena (Butter had been waived right in, as the proprietors clearly remembered him), the fight promoter took one look at Butter, jumped to his feet and said, “Butter! You’ve come back!”
“I was in the area, and I felt like getting some action in.” Butter replied.
“Absolutely! No problem!” The promoter replied, “Will your friends be spectating?” He asked, eyeing the other two.
“Spectate nothing, I’m here to fight!” Querrick replied with the same frantic energy as earlier.
The promoter looked Querrick up and down (mostly down), then looked up at Butter and asked, “Is he serious? This is a joke, right?”
Querrick got into the promoter’s face, as best he could, and replied, “Put me in the ring, throw whoever you want at me, and I’ll show you just how serious I am.”
The promoter cocked an eyebrow but smiled and said, “I like your energy, kid. Throw whoever I want at you, eh? Alright.” He chuckled, “You asked for it.” He then turned to Knoll and said, “Your other friend can watch from the stands, upstairs.”
“Uh, I’m here to fight too.” Knoll replied.
The promoter stared at Knoll for a long moment before busting into a fit of laughter. “An Arkanian fighting?!” Another slew of uncontrollable laughter, “Oh, Butter! That’s a good joke!”
Butter watched the promoter continue to laugh, as Knoll glared at the man. It was a good minute before he had regained his senses. Looking up at Knoll with tears streaming down his face, still chuckling, he said, “Hoo boy… man… oh, wait… you’re… serious…?”
“I am.” Knoll replied.
Butter watched the promoter struggle to keep from bursting into another fit of laughter, before replying, “Ok, Arkanian, what’s your name?”
“Doctor Death.” Querrick quipped.
Again, the promoter burst into a fit of laughter. “You’re in!” He managed to say, “Butter, you know where to go. Show your friends.”
Butter nodded and led the other two to the turbolift that would lead them straight into the fighting pit.
“Oh, and Butter!” He called back to them, “No killing anyone this time!”
Butter pretended he had not heard the man.
“That was rude.” Knoll mumbled under his breath.
“They’ve never seen an Arkanian fight.” Butter replied, “Would you like to know the odds of you dying tonight? It’s high.” He continued without waiting for Knoll’s answer, “It’s very high.”
As Querrick rode the turbolift, the adrenaline was pumping in his system. He could hear the raucous crowd now. They were bloodthirsty. He could sense it. And he was determined to give them a show. As he rose, he found himself inside a cage. A series of cages, really. The fighting arena was encased in a large metal cage, covered in some sort of electrostatic shielding, but along the edges of the arena, were various smaller cages. Each one, Querrick realized, housed a different fighter, himself included.
Querrick eyed the other opponents edgily, eager to be unleashed. Luckily, his door was the first to spring open, and the promoter announced over the loudspeakers from an unseen location, his name. As Querrick entered the ring, he could hear the cheers turn to laughter. He heard the mocking of his size from the various drunken spectators. Instead of sending him into the blind rage he normally felt, it only added to his focus. He would prove them all wrong. He would prove to them his strength. On their way to the fight club, Butter had explained that these fights were barehanded, no weapons. Butter had lamented the fact that he could not use his vibroknuckles. But what they all failed to realize, even the droid, was that his entire body was a weapon. They’d learn soon enough.
After a long moment of the crowd laughing and jeering, the promoter then announced Querrick’s opponent. The name was drowned out by the sudden eruption of screams and cheers from the stands as a masked Nikto waltzed out of his cage. The Nikto’s mask was attached to a ludicrous crown. He also wore a crimson colored cape, topped with ridiculously large, spiked shoulder pads. In one fell movement, he tore the crown mask from his face, and detached the cape, letting it all fall to the ground, revealing a ripped, muscular form covered in only a small pair of wrestling trunks.
His opponent clearly thought highly of himself. And Querrick couldn’t help but flash a fang filled grin.
In the next instant, a bell dinged, and the Nikto charged at Querrick with all it’s might. Unable to move out of the way quickly enough, Querrick was slammed against a wall of the cage. Much to his pleasure, though, the new armor absorbed most of the impact. This test run was turning out to be just what he was hoping for. But now it was time for something more.
Querrick kicked the Nikto off of him putting just enough distance between them for Querrick to land a swift left hook. Striking the Nikto square in the side of the head, the creature dropped, disoriented from the force of the punch. Especially a force coming from such a deceptively small frame, Querrick had no doubt.
Stunned, the Nikto quickly scrambled to his feet. The shock on his face was obvious. The rage apparent. He clearly wasn’t expecting the fight to go like this. Throwing a right hook of his own, Querrick quickly blocked with his left arm, and before the Nikto could react, Querrick countered with an uppercut. The force of the blow actually lifted the Nikto off the ground by a few inches (Querrick knew the retelling of this story by the drunken crowd would exaggerate the distance by a good measure, which he was fine with), and sent him careening to the mat once more, only this time, the Nikto was not getting up, having been knocked out cold.
A referee that Querrick had not noticed earlier rushed up to the Nikto, slammed the mat ten times, counting the whole way, then called for the bell, raising Querrick’s arm in triumph.
The shocked crowd erupted in cheers (and some boos) as they hailed the victor. Querrick took it all in. He cared little for the opinions of drunken strangers, but he relished the feeling of victory. The feeling of his fists striking flesh. The feeling of power and knowing that he was the stronger fighter. It was a high that he’d never get enough of, and he knew it.
It was also a moment of realization… he could not resist what he was…
When Querrick had suggested participating in a local fighting arena, the idea had piqued Knoll’s interests. He was, after all, quite skilled with his hands. However, the idea had become less and less appealing as time went on. And after watching Querrick’s bout, Knoll was losing even more confidence in himself.
And now, it was his turn to enter the ring, as the cage door slid open. As Knoll walked out, the promoter announcing his ridiculous moniker provided by Querrick, the crowd laughed even harder than they did for the Cathar. This irritated Knoll, but he tried to focus on his opponent. Not dying was a little higher on his list of priorities, over not being embarrassed.
He had to do more than a double take when he saw his opponent, though. It was a Human female. At least, he thought it was a female. He didn’t realize the females of that species could be so… built.
As the fight began, the female wasted no time taking a swipe at Knoll. Luckily, his reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. Dodging the blow, Knoll countered, not with a fist, but a quick swipe at an easily reached pressure point on the neck. The strike caused the woman to suddenly drop to her knees, temporarily paralyzed. With two more swift jabs to the throat, the woman was down and out. And Knoll sighed a breath of relief. It didn’t matter how muscular the woman was, an unarmored Human was an easy target of his style of “fighting.”
As the referee counted the woman out, he held Knoll’s arm up in victory. However, Knoll noticed a distinct difference between his victory and Querrick’s. The crowd was utterly silent. After what seemed like an eternity, the silence was broken by a single, halfhearted “boo.” This caused a wave of boos to suddenly come crashing down upon the doctor. The crowd was livid, apparently not impressed with Knoll’s sophisticated style of combat, they were now hurling empty (and not so empty) bottles at the giant cage (which harmlessly bounced off thanks to the shielding).
“Are you not entertained?” Knoll muttered under his breath, now annoyed by the boors in the audience, as he meandered back to his own little cage, making room for the final fight of the night.
Querrick watched the final fight from his cage, at first with interest, but quickly grew bored. Butter was showing off, taking his time. He was fighting a big, ugly, tattooed Shistavanen. And he was clearly not having any problems. He’d choke slammed the dog so hard into the mat that he actually bounced back up, this was followed up with Butter juggling the creature in the air, flying back and forth with his servoboosters, punching the alien with each pass, maintaining his altitude.
The droid then caught his opponent, mid air, continued flying around the ring, grating the creature’s face against the cage as they sped by, stopped in the middle of the ring, and threw the alien, like a dart, into one of the cage walls.
The wall itself broke, but only gave way a slight bit, before being bounced back by the shielding, causing the wolf man to bounce with it, back into the ring.
Somehow, the Shistavanen got back to his feet, only to be speared by the droid, flying at full blast. The creature got knocked back down, and Querrick could definitely hear bones snapping, as he folded in on himself, not moving now.
The referee didn’t even bother counting, simply raising Butter’s arm (or, trying to), and calling for the medics.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but Querrick just rolled his eyes. The Shistavanen may as well have been trying to punch a star destroyer. Butter was a droid. That wasn’t real strength. It was machinery. He was just glad the machine was on his side.
With the fights ended, the turbolifts lowered, and Querrick found himself back in the lower levels, with Knoll and Butter.
“That was some fightin’!” The promoter hollered, approaching the three, “Butter, you’re welcome back here any time! You’ve got an open invitation to be a regular! Think about it!”
Butter looked at the others and replied, “I would enjoy that, but I have other obligations at the moment. Thank you.” He then took a credit chit from the promoter.
“Well, offer stands. That goes for you too, kid!” The promoter replied, looking at Querrick now, “Any time you want to come back and show off those furry fists of fury, you’re more than welcome!”
Querrick replied with a laugh, and a nod, but said nothing, as the promoter handed him a hundred credits.
“As for you…” He continued, “You’re style… It may not have been their cup of caf, but I thought it was great. Now, I can’t pay you as much, the crowd didn’t really get into it, but, I’m gonna add a little more, just ‘cus I think you deserve it.”
“Thank you.” Knoll replied politely, “And thank you for this… unique experience.”
“Any time Arkanian!” The promoter replied, “Y’all come back now, ya hear?”
The next day, while resting aboard the Mythosaur, Knoll noticed that they had received a message. It was from a woman named Sirena. She apparently ran a local caf shop nearby, and was looking to hire them for a job. There were no other details, but at this point, neither Knoll or the others really cared. After so many random job offers, this seemed completely normal to them.
After sending a reply to agree to hear her out, Knoll, Querrick, and Butter left for the caf shop. Knoll was rather shocked as they entered, the ship was much cleaner than anywhere else he had been on Ord Mantell. He instantly felt more at ease in a place like this, and he was suddenly anxious to meet the owner.
He did not have to wait long, as a Human woman, dressed in exotic finery, something that belonged more in a place like Coruscant or Serenno, rather than this filthy backwater planet, appeared, and greeted them.
“You must be the crew of the Mythosaur.” She said, approaching them with a lithe walk, “I’m Sirena.”
“Dr. Knoll Dinn.” Knoll introduced himself, “And this is our pilot, Butter. And our security chief, Querrick. Our technician, Sadra, is, uh, indisposed at the moment.”
“A pleasure to meet you all.” Sirena replied in a soothing voice, “Please, have a seat.”
As they sat, Sirena began, “So, here’s the problem I’m facing. I own a little YT-1300, I use it to run my goods.” She gestured to the cafe behind her, “To various clientele across the galaxy. It’s mostly piloted by my R4 droid, Rendill. But, a few days ago, I lost contact with Rendill. He was keeping me updated about some problems on his route, something about an asteroid belt, but he suddenly ceased all communications. I think he may be stuck in that asteroid belt. Aside from the fact that I don’t want to lose my droid, or my ship, that cargo is very valuable to me. And I need to get it back, at any cost.”
“And you thought to ask a delivery company for assistance?” Querrick interrupted, confused.
Sirena shook her head, “You’re not the first people I’ve contacted about this. No one is willing to help me. But, I’ve heard your reputation. The people of this town like to talk. You sounded like a group that could handle themselves. And, like I said, I’m desperate. I can offer you three thousand credits up front.” She added, abruptly.
Knoll looked to the others, both of whom seemed to nod in agreement. It seemed like good, easy money, to him. “Sounds like a simple enough job.” He replied, “We could probably head out tomorrow.”
“Excellent!” Sirena almost shouted, “I’ll be at your ship first thing.”
“Oh.” This gave Knoll pause, “You’re coming with?”
“Yes.” She seemed hesitant, “Honestly, I hate space travel. It makes me quite nauseous. But I have to see that shipment for myself. Is that gong to be a problem?”
There was an unmistakable nagging at the back of Knoll’s mind just then, but he saw no reason not to trust this woman. So, he simply replied, “No, that shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll have to do a security check on you before taking off, of course. Want to make sure you’re not bringing any contraband onboard, or whatnot. But, no, that should be fine. As for the illness, I may be able to help you there.”
“Thank you so much!” She said, “And that would be great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sadra had been hard at work at the armor smith’s for days now. It was exhausting, grueling work. But she couldn’t deny that she liked it. It was good to work with her hands. Kept her mind free, focusing just on the task. It also gave her a break from her bizarre crew. Of course, the trade off was the leering gaze of the armorer and his employees.
They had all been very helpful in her working, but sometimes Sadra felt they were being too helpful.
By the time she had finished her own armor, the last set, she was fully prepared to leave, when the armorer spoke up.
“You know… you’re pretty good at this.” He said, uncharacteristically sheepishly, “Better than anyone I got, honestly. I’m not sure what you’ve got goin’ on right now. Can only guess, considering what brought you here in the first place, but… well… I was wonderin’ if you might consider taking on a job here? Permanently. It’s good work. It pays well. And I’ve got a generous benefits program.”
Sadra didn’t miss the emphasis on the word benefits, and repressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Thanks.” She said with as much politeness as she could manage, “But I’m not really in a position where I can change jobs at the moment. I appreciate the offer, though, and all your help these past few days.”
“Of course.” The armorer replied, forcing a halfhearted smile, “Offer’s always on the table, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Sadra replied, making to leave the shop.
As Sadra made her way back to the ship, she received a comm from Knoll explaining the new job.
“How far away is this asteroid belt?” She asked.
“Looks to be about a two day’s journey.” Knoll replied.
“Perfect.” Sadra answered, knowing full well she’d sleep the entire way there.
During their flight to the asteroid belt, Knoll had tried his best to learn more about this oddly refined woman from Ord Mantell, but succeeded very little in learning anything of importance. And their journey was over before it had even begun, it felt.
After much deliberation, they had decided that the ship was a loss. It was wedged into a very large asteroid, and the damage was visible from the Mythosaur. Gigantic holes punctured the ship, leaving it open to the vacuum of space. It would obviously never survive a trip being towed through hyperspace. Their only hope now was to space walk into the smaller freighter, and recover the cargo, one crate at a time.
With Knoll opting to stay behind, Butter led the way, attaching a guide wire the others could use to shimmy their way into the neighboring ship from the Mythosaur’s open docking tube.
Querrick watched as Sadra and Sirena made their way in. He followed close behind, but was suddenly paralyzed as he entered the tiny spacecraft. Without realizing it, he began to pace back and forth at the torn open entryway, eager to be gone from this place. And even more eager for there to be no danger here, so he could be gone from here.
“I think I see something!” The woman, Sirena shouted, “Yes! It’s Rendill!”
Sadra looked to see a very damaged R4 droid in the narrow corridor of the busted open freighter. It seemed to be attempting self repairs, but it clearly wasn’t doing a very good job of it.
“Rendill! I was so worried about you!” Sirena shouted, rushing up to the droid.
Much to Sadra’s surprise, and, she was sure, to the surprise of Sirena, the droid hit Sirena with a shock of electricity, as if defending itself.
“Do something! He’s gone haywire!” Sirena shouted.
Sadra could see a bundle of loose power cords sticking out of the heavily damaged droid, and yanked at them, causing the droid to instantly power down.
“What was that about?” Sirena asked, rubbing her injured hand.
“Not sure.” Sadra said thoughtfully, “But I may be able to repair him.”
“That would be wonderful!” Sirena replied, “But first, try to see what you can find in the ship’s logs.”
Sadra glanced around at the heavily damaged interior, and said, “I’ll see what I can manage.” Heading towards the cockpit.
Sirena had found the cargo, and was now having Butter transfer it out of the damaged ship and to the Mythosaur.
All too eager to be away, Querrick quickly made his way back to the safety of the larger, functioning ship, and took on the roll of taking the crates from Butter in the other ship, and moving them to the cargo bay.
As Sadra tried, and failed, to get anything out of this completely scrapped husk of a ship, she noticed an odd alarm, indicating that the airlock (which was pointless now) had been opened, then closed. Seconds later, she could spy the R4 droid, floating out in space, through the ship’s cockpit. Before she could even question in her own mind what it was doing out there, it exploded in a fiery ball of flame and metal.
“What the hell?!” She shouted.
Shortly after the explosion of… whatever it was, Querrick hadn’t been looking that direction, he felt yet another rumbling. This one sounding much bigger. Just then, right in front of the doomed YT-1300, sprung a colossal space worm, erupting from the asteroid below.
“Haar’chak!” Querrick shouted in surprise, instinctively drawing his blaster rifle.
