The Short Fic Weekly Challenge Thread!
View Single Post
03.04.2013 , 04:18 PM |
Double posting cause apparently brain decides that it has ideas
The Ride In
Ajacksa - bh
(timeline wise, set at beginning of Hutta)
The curved alusteel wall was the only thing that shone in the Hutta transport. Ajacksa self-consciously dropped her hand away from her newly shorn, newly copper-colored hair, her newly green eyes shifting away from the distorted image of herself in the metal. The Rattataki across the aisle in the battered transport grinned a little wider, his eyes tracing over her generous curves. He was slouched across the opposite bench, one arm casually draped across a bundle, the other resting on one of his splayed legs within easy reach of the tied-down blaster he had strapped to his thigh.
She shifted on her seat, her stomach in knots as they dropped down through the atmosphere. The battered armor she'd scavenged from the repair pile in the guards' room in her family's apartments didn't fit right. She pulled at the gauntlets nervously, yanking them down to cover the bare skin on her arms. She needed bracers. She looked over at the Rattataki. His armor fit him - matched the gunmetal gray tattoos that striped his face. You could tell it was a set, probably made to fit his wide shoulders and narrow hips specifically. She looked at the helmet that was sitting next to his hip. She needed to get one of those. She glanced up at her wavery reflection in the metal - needed to cover up those freckles. Her face shifted in the reflection, shadows forming under her eyes, on her cheeks, giving her a dark cast. She looked away again, her eyes catching in the Rattataki's silver ones.
"First time on Hutta?" he asked, sitting forward on his seat. His voice was a low raspy growl, his eyes glittery. She'd never seen a Rattataki in person before running into a couple on the Hutta orbital station. Her tutors had included them, of course, in her lessons on the sentient species of the galaxy. Violent with monochromatic coloring. That was the only thing she remembered. Her tutors would not have mentioned the air of menace that lay about them like a shroud. She couldn't shake the thought that she'd been safer as a terrified debutante running heedlessly from her stepfather's assassins.
She raised her chin, praying her voice didn't shake. "I don't share my business," she said shortly.
Cool, calm. Remember, Jack, appearance is everything. She grimaced as her mother's words bounced into her head. Different context, same weapon. Appearance had gotten her to this point. Old bounty hunter had spotted her facing down a pack of her stepfather's mercenaries, had mistaken her scavenged armor, taunts, and instinctive aim as that of a professional. An opportunity. On Hutta. All she had to do was keep pretending. Become a bounty hunter. Last place in the galaxy they'd ever look.
"You take money for your business?" the Rattataki asked in that raspy voice, openly eyeing her body, "How much?"
How much? He didn't mean...she felt her cheeks flush. Compensate. Give him a show. She was fairly sure that when her mother had insisted she take acting classes, it had been to strengthen the family's ties with the Coruscant art snobs, not to prepare her to face down violent criminals, but she was absolutely sure she'd never had to be more convincing. Her heart was pounding in her ears.
She sighed loudly and pulled the blaster on her hip. Jack pursed her lips, hiding her racing pulse. "If business involves this gun in my hand, then yes."
He grinned and leaned back against the metal wall; his unblinking silver eyes were unnerving. "I got no problem with that.
He had no problem with...oh she was so out of her depth it wasn't even funny. What was she doing here? Think quick. She rolled her eyes and put the blaster away, turning to adjust something that didn't need adjusting on her pack. Ignore him. He doesn't exist. The harsh chuckle across the aisle was not reassuring.
Jack silently thanked the stars as she felt the transport land. She continued ignoring the Rattataki till he'd picked up his pack and headed down the ramp. Her heart was pounding as she gathered up her few belongings and headed for the door where yellowed light and dank air poured in.
Hutta stank. It stank like rotting things, chemicals, and blaster fire. The cybernetics hidden in her jawbone chimed in her ear, reading off a list of minor poisons in the atmosphere. None immediately lethal, most deadly, given enough time. Somehow, she suspected pollution was rarely the main cause of death around here though. She paused in the doorway, catching sight of the tall Rattataki as he strode through the nearly empty hanger. He belonged here, whereas she...
Jack blinked back a couple tears that were stinging her nose and glanced back into the transport. Her reflection in the curved metal looked back at her: scared, desperate, and out of her element. She swallowed, hefted her pack on her shoulder, and left the transport, staring down the couple space port workers who glanced at her. She had a part to play, her survival depended on it.
Interesting piece of trivia: if you make a bt4 female cyborg some of the cybernetics don't work on some of the faces leaving you with a cyborg who looks outwardly human.
aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?
My Name is Solomon Crae
The Man in the Box