She's So Cold

Posted on Tue May 12th, 2020 @ 6:53pm by Bomoor Thort & Amare

2,769 words; about a 14 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Undervos Holdings Factory, Wastes, Sleheyron
Timeline: Week Three (Immediately after "Under Her Thumb")

OLD

The Nautolan retracted her plasma blade and kept her blaster low at her hip and trained on Yaxley. "After you," she said with a gesture to the door leading to the high bridge connecting the two major struts of the factory complex.

When Yaxley walked past and caused the armor blast door to part open with her approach, Amare holstered her pistol, glanced at the fallen guards with certainty that they were no longer potential threats, and cautiously followed her mark from behind. She had a subtle feeling there was something duplicitous about the target, something Yaxley was hiding, but couldn't divine what it was. Between that and what was to occur next out on the rain soaked connecting bridge filled the fledgling Sith apprentice with an all-too-familiar bad feeling of deep, life-threatening dread...

NEW

Yaxley led the way in front of a wary Sith apprentice outside to the fifteen foot wide steel bridge that extended about a hundred feet in length between the two primary factory facilities, or struts as the Arkanian's security staff had called them. As anticipated, the tall slick-haired human nicknamed "Sarge" had been waiting in front of the door on the other side.

Interestingly, while he was armed and armoured in some kind of light cybernetic exoskeleton that framed his uniform from his neck to his toes, he also was bold enough to stand guard alone. It was clear to Amare that the human had somehow become suspicious of her and came prepared for trouble. She could barely make out what looked to be some kind of pack on his back and, along with a heavy blaster pistol at his side, was a sheathed sword of some kind hung on his other hip. Braced just above that hip was a peculiar looking combat helmet that had a narrow t-shaped visor on it.

"Your life is in your hands, Miss Yaxley," Amare whispered to her from close behind, weapons holstered at her side, ready to cutdown both individuals in the blink of an eye. "Send your dog away, or there will be no mercy for you."

A crosswind gust rushed past across the bridge as a herald of the oncoming evening storm rumbling in their direction. Trace sprinkles of water could be felt in the wind, but as some touched Amare's lips, she could make out a faint taste of what she thought had the unpleasant rotten egg flavouring of carbon and sulfur. The taste reminded her of Korriban, but the storm stirred her nostalgia back to Korriban when Axion's Kaleesh sorcerer summoned forth his own unnatural storm. Since that epic battle, Amare had dreamed of wielding such power herself and often fantasized about introducing the Kaleesh's throat to her lightsaber to make him give up his secrets.

The Arkanian businesswoman was silent, not acknowledging Amare's threat but neither slowing her pace. Amare could still sense the burning fear within the woman, but her surface thoughts were no longer as easy to read as when she had first cut down her security guards before her. Yaxley strode onwards, only slowing to a stop when a few paces away from the chief security officer.

"Your personal ship is ready, Miss Yaxley," he nodded firmly, with heavy eyes fixed upon Amare, "Will the Jedi be joining you? I thought she might want to stay and protect the other guests if there is a killer on the loose."

The suggestion was made as an accusation, confirming his distrust of the Nautolan Force user but Yaxley was quick to deflect his hostility.

"The Jedi tells me I am the only target," she stated. Amare could not see her expression from behind, but trusted that she would detect any hint of deception. Yaxley added, "If she and I depart, then all the other guests will be far safer."

"If you say so, madam," Sarge stood firm, as though still ready to pounce, "But I would truly recommend that you take some of our own security personnel along with you. I would gladly accompany you, if that would make you feel more secure."

"Your duty is to this facility and not to me," his employer reminded him, "You are not my personal body guard."

Mentioning body guards seemed to prompt Sarge to notice the disappearance of the other security personnel that should have been accompanying Yaxley. He furrowed his brow with concern, "Then at least allow me to escort you through the facility to your ship."

There was a pause from Yaxley and she inclined her head backwards, seemingly checking this with Amare.

"Good idea," Amare agreed with a curt nod and an expression concealing her rising tension. She could feel Sarge was on to her, gray steely human eyes surgically cutting through her thin veil of deception. "The danger is close. We must hurry. I fear your brave and valiant men will not last long to an unseen lightsaber."

Agreeing with a silent nod, Yaxley allowed Sarge to join them and the three of them hurried along through to the other facility and to the private landing pad where her silvery-white interstellar sloop was waiting for her. This particular style of yacht was popular among executives, modelled after an older Huppla Pasa Tisc Shipwrights Collective Genosian design that was bought out by a GalactaWerks subsidiary.

Sarge drew close to the Yacht's entrance and unlocked the vessel for his employer, being one of the few members of staff with the security key, "I do wish you would let me come with you, Miss Yaxley but I am pleased to have escorted you thus far."

Yaxley nodded and drew closer to him, creating a dangerously wide gap between Amare and her prey, "Thank you, Sarge. You and your staff have been extremely professional and their performance will be noted."

The Arkanian's hand began to slide down her side, almost invisibly, but subtly detectable to the Nautolan Force user. Suddenly, Yaxley jumped forwards and partly shielded herself behind the security officer, while producing a small hold-out blaster from whatever concealed pouch she had been reaching for.

"She's the assassin!" hissed Yaxley, with great urgency, readying her blaster to fire around Sarge's larger body, "She killed the other guards and she's wants to kill me too! You must protect me."

Without hesitation, Amare drew her weapons into her hands with a quick pull of the Force, blaster in the right hand leveled at Yaxley, shoto saber alight and held defensively at a diagonal angle in her left hand.

"You're making a huge mistake," Amare sneered at her as Sarge's weapon was drawn at her. "Think about it. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already. I've had plenty of opportunity." Then she added to manipulate Sarge, "At any moment, a rouge will appear behind you, a man powerful enough to kill you, her, and possibly me in seconds. Do you want to risk your client's life on an unproven accusation, or would you rather get her to safety as quickly as possible where the Jedi can protect her? Think carefully. Your whole life and career has come to this moment. Choose wisely."

"From where I'm standing," Sarge began to slowly raise his own heavier blaster to chest height, "You're the only threat I can see."

He angled his head back slightly, "Quickly, Miss Yaxley; get into the ship and take off. I will buy you some time."

Yaxley hesitated for only a fraction of a second at the man's decision to lay down his life for her before nodding, "Thank you, Sarge."

Keeping her blaster pointed at Amare until the last moment, the Arkanian edged back into the ship and set about prepping it for take off. From the cockpit, she heard Sarge saying something in his strong Corellian accent that provoked a hissing reply from the Nautolan. Yaxley hit the ignition and the small ship's engines sprung to life. She risked a glance out of the window to see Sarge holding a thermal detonator up in the air with his blaster now pointing towards it.

Where her chief of security had sourced the explosive from was unknown to her, but she was glad of his valiant attempt at a last stand. She looked away, afraid of whatever the outcome would be. She threw on the auto-pilot, not caring at all about setting any co-ordinates just yet. She just needed to get off Sleheyron.

In the instant Sarge armed the grenade, the Nautolan assassin had let her sidearm slip out of her hand and then snapped that same hand up with a sharp pushing motion. The thermal detonator shot out of Sarge's grip just before his fearless attempt at a suicide-kill failed to connect, the blaster bolt sailing off harmlessly into the storm-laced sky. The little metal ball of doom smashed against the cockpit window and erupted into a jagged blanket of destructive fire. Yaxley had shielded her eyes from the explosion, but instead of being incinerated, her window was tough enough to hold together and protect her, albeit with many deep cracks.

Seeing Sarge fall to one knee as he guarded himself from the blast, the Nautolan assassin wasted no time and used the Ataru training she practiced with her mother on Mustafar and leaped towards Sarge with her diminutive lightsaber. Still, the human was canny enough to react and opened up with his pistol, but the Force user had slapped aside three blue blaster bolts in mid-air with her weapon like they were mere firebugs getting in her way. Sarge had barely a blink of an eye's time to discard his firearm and bring up his own sword just as the shoto blade had crashed down towards his head. He brought to bear a single-edge dark metal sword that actually managed to firmly stop the green energy blade that fell upon it.

Just as the ship's engines warmed up, close to liftoff status, a hand-to-hand exchange ensued, each slashing and blocking the other in a furious exchange of blows. Sarge deftly managed two parries and one riposte which he reversed with the same motion to slash low at Amare's thigh. Before it could connect, he was pounded with a quick telekinetic lash the likes of which he had never felt before, akin almost to a strong sudden gust from a tropical storm. Managing his footing, he slid along the wet metal of the landing deck as the rain started to loose itself upon the factory.

They went right at it again as Amare dove into melee range yet again, this time Sarge being far more aggressive having lost his patience, striking hard at the shoto to stagger the surprised would-be assassin, quickly ceasing the young sea creature's sword hand. Amare struggled, attempting to kick the human's armored shin closest to her, but Sarge was unfazed as he had what he perceived was the advantage of technology and superior military-trained physicality over her. With great ease and a cold grin crossing his lips, he applied heavy pressure just below the wrist, cutting off the flow of blood to her fingers. He pulled her close and drove an exoskeletal-enhanced knee into her gut, causing the shoto to fall and deactivate. Taking her by her throat, Sarge hoisted Amare into the air with one cyber-assisted hand, the tip of his sword primed to impale her.

Yaxley gazed out through her damaged window, and smiled with deep tentative relief to see the danger was about to end. To her bewilderment, however, something caused Sarge to hesitate. The Arkanian could see him, turning to his right slightly, then to his left, as if distracted by something unseen nearby, and it certainly did not appear to be the lightning in the distance. In the very next second, one of Amare's hands moved from struggling with Sarge's vice-like grip, and unleashed a blinding electric flash at the sword which conducted energy to Sarge's hand forcing him to drop it and the Nautolan so that he could grasp at his burned hand wracked with searing pain. Amare's knees buckled as she tried to catch her breath and get up, and, much to Yaxley's horror, lunged at Sarge's broad chest, pushing him, making him stagger back, then fall heavily onto his back. Yaxley saw the assassin's hand was aglow in scarlet red light pressing tightly over where his heart was. With her other free hand, Amare reached out to her side without looking, summoned her shoto with her power, ignited it, and brought the bright green energy dagger down for the coup de grâce.

Yaxley looked away just in time to avoid seeing the fatal stab as she frantically punched the liftoff command on the pilot's console. The compartment behind her sealed just as she could see a series of red blaster bolts firing at Amare to cover Yaxley's escape; Sarge's reinforcements having arrived seconds too late.

The ship lifted off with ease, and Yaxley wondered if the vessel was even space-worthy with so much damage to the cockpit window. Still, she was off the ground and allowed herself a chance to collapse into the chair and breathe and consider her options to tap into her many on-retainer resources and go off-the-grid for a while, possibly even months or years if necessary until she could--

Her thoughts were cutoff as she heard on the starboard side of the external hull plating. Yaxley sprung out of her chair, staring to her right, and then she staggered back with a yelp of terror when Amare appeared outside, a gloved hand gripping the rim jutting above the window. With shaking hands, Yaxley clumsily drew her blaster, nearly dropping it in the process, and leveled it at her vicious attacker. Amare reached out with her free hand and attempted to apply pressure with the Force on Yaxley. It seemed to be enough to make Yaxley work harder to breathe, but not enough to deliver any life-threatening effect. The hand then shifted to the visible yoke by the console, and forced it to turn hard to port.

The ship spun violently on an axis as it was over the adjoining sea near the factory, sheer bluffs chipped and sharpened from millions of years of salt water erosion. Yaxley was heaved to her left, attempting to reach for the yoke, but failing that, she leveled her blaster with one hand, aim wavering against the centrifugal force weighing down at her. She squeezed the trigger, first shot damaging the reinforced material to a near-breaking point, then a second blasted a hole near Amare's head, causing tiny shards to slash at the Nautolan's face drawing blood and causing the blue murderer to cry out in pain, then a third shot sent a larger shard into Amare's shoulder. The Nautolan lost her grip and, just as she was thrown off the window, her power's direction had shifted and threw the yoke to starboard.

Whilst the effect of the shift had almost stabilized the ship, before Yaxley could reach up and correct her course, it was already too late.

The Nautolan had fallen at least a few hundred feet into the cold embrace of the Sleheyron waters, mildly polluted as it was with nutrients that spawned a thin veneer of purple-red algae on its surface on the coast near the factory. Her body was motionless, blood spewing from the thick shard lodged just below her shoulder joint. For half a minute, she sank deeper into the depths. In her unconscious mind, a low, rumbling male voice she had never heard before, called out to her...

Hear me, daughter...to know the truth of your existence, you must die...only in rebirth...through the Lost One's power...can you find your way home...

Amare awoke with a startled gasp, a volley of air bubbles bursting out from her mouth, as if awakening from a bad dream. Her lungs tried to breathe in through the water as she jerked the shard loose from her right shoulder. After a brief muffled scream, she pushed herself up to the surface with her one good arm. She allowed only her eyes to peek above the placid surface, and in the reflection of her dark oily orbs was fire. Yaxley's ship had crashed head-on into the side of one of the bluffs, a blazing charred mess of metal and starship fuel spewing a curved pillar of flame and smoke reaching up into the sky. Amare could not sense the life of Yaxley, and slipped quietly under the water, back into the depths, her task finally complete.

END

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