The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
View Single Post
08.17.2012 , 04:32 AM |
"Medisha, you shouldn't be here." Broan helped the youngling to her feet and wrapped an arm around her shoulders: a feeble gesture of protection against the on-coming blaster fire. She turned to him, her expression blank to the point of being apathetic.
"And neither should you."
A shiver ran down Broan's spine as he heard those words. Trying to avoid her cloth-covered gaze, he looked around the hanger, appearing to assess their position. Captain Istier had found the wayward Lieutenant, it seemed, and was in the middle of presenting him to the invading Imperial forces. The man was on his knees in front of her, passive and unmoving. The chill he had just felt settled into brick of ice in his stomach. Captain Istier had a gun pressed to the back of the man's head; red hair parted by a silver barrel. She shouted something, something Broan could not quite hear over the din of the hanger. The shot was clear.
Before the body had even touched the floor, Lord Vizloch was upon the Captain. A single slash of a sabre separated her head from her shoulders. Lord Vizloch kicked it away in disgust. She turned to Broan and he could feel the anger rising from her. She flicked her wrist and a flash of red was the last thing Broan ever saw.