Death, Dirt and the Nerf Rancher's Daughter

[Tiercel Habrok]

The Outer Rim...

The rugged, frontier of the galaxy. Here, there is no law but that which each world makes for itself. Amidst this sea of chaos, a lone sentinel moves. The Imperial cruiser Kalidor – four-hundred and fifty meters of her Imperial Majesty's justice, a hammer with which to strike order and obedience into the Outer Rim territories. Though her hull is scorched and scarred with the wounds of a hundred fire fights, she marches onwards, her command and crew dedicated to the noble purpose or bringing enlightenment to the dark, unruly corners of the Empire.

Star-fighters swoop and circle across the cruisers bow, running drills of formations they have learnt to heart. Aboard the command deck, officers stand above an illuminated, three-dimensional navigation display, musing over their next move. Below deck, crewmen sweat out the days frustrations in the gymnasium, or retreat to their bunks for a well earned rest. It's hangar bays are still, its shuttles remained docked, without duties to complete. All, that is, save one.

“Hyperdrives still aren't responding,” Tiercel Habrok punched another of the control's on his command console, desperately willing the Zeta-class shuttle to right itself. The ship veered to the left, though not at his command – another wave of energy from the ion storm raging around them had crashed into the shuttle. Whip-crack lightning flashed across the viewport, and the chest of Habrok's black flightsuit strained against the cockpits safety webbing as he was rocked forward.

Being assigned to an away mission with Vikki Tavik was never going to be easy, but right from the beginning – from the moment that Colonel Wystalin had chosen the pair of them for this special task – Habrok had known he was going to regret catching the Executive Officer's eye.

“All this for a bunch of nerf meat,” Tiercel muttered to himself, wondering once again just what running personal errands for the Colonel had to do with upholding Imperial law and justice. “Hope he chokes on it.”

[Vikki Tavik]

Whatever strength of self discipline that Vikki had was sorely being tested at that moment. Between the so-called "scouting mission" given by Wystalin that was nothing more than running a damn personal errand for that moron of an XO, the added insult of being forced to fly a piece of dren Zeta-class shuttle (She was one of the best damn fighter pilots on the Kalidor for frak's sake! She had flew with both Nightshrike and the prestigious Bloodfin! She held ships' records among the pilots that couldn't even be contested by the others! She was Force-Damned-Vikki-Frakking-Flashfire-Tavik! No way did Commander Jonos agree to having her out there. It must have been because she was the only female officer who had the nerve to call Wystalin on his bantha poodoo treatment of women on board.), having to deal with Habrok, and now the whole entire thing going to hell in a frakking basket... Well...

"If we make it back, Quickdraw, I'm going to personally see that he does." The words came out slightly muffled as she spoke between gritted teeth so tightly pressed together her jaw was starting to hurt.

All focus was kept on keeping the shuttle as stable as possible on it's "descent" towards Engebo V. With eyes remaining constantly switching between view port and the readings on the consoles in front of her she finally released the tension in her jaw and took a deep breath slowly.

"Remind me to make sure that pleasure is shared by the damn knuckle dragger in charge of keeping this heap from falling out of the sky... you know, like it's currently doing."

[Tiercel Habrok]

Somewhere ahead, through the swirling, churning mass of ion particles, was Engebo V. Under Tavik's control, the shuttle began to slowly – but steadily – creep its way towards the planet. For every pulse of energy that rocked them, Vikki would tweak the steering yoke, riding the storm and turning it to her advantage. Habrok watched the sensor readouts as they fluctuated from one extreme to another, the battering of ion particles throwing everything into confusion. A gunner by assignment – and co-pilot only by necessity, given his lack of clearance as an actual pilot – Tiercel felt painfully useless. It was a feeling that always seemed to grow with his proximity to Captain Flashfire.

The spikes and troughs on the sensor screens began to shrink, as the shuttle reached the edge of the maelstrom. As if belched out of the fires of hell, it lurched forward, the aft veering ahead to twist past the forward section – though it was only an instant before the thrusters fired, righting the shuttles course towards Engebo V's atmosphere. They had known from the start that the storm wasn't strong enough to rip the ship apart, but the prospect of spending hours in the heart of it – fighting to keep the Zeta-class from spiralling off into a random, careening free-spin – was not appealing. With the thick of it at their backs, Tiercel breathed a sigh of relief, his breath misting against the inside of his helmet.

“If we make it back,” he echoed, quietly. “I hope they have hyperdrive repair on this dustball.”

[Vikki Tavik]

As soon as the storm cleared, Flashfire felt her entire body ease up. Her knuckles hadn't quite gone white from gripping the controls, but the sensation was damn near close and she went about cracking the slightly achy joints on each hand respectively before letting out a slight laugh at Habrok's comment.

"You better hope so, Ensign. Or else you'll be pulling out a manual from somewhere and taking a crash course in it."

The rest of the trip down to the surface was smooth, slightly boring by Tavik's preferences, but all the fun through the ion storm had filled her excitement meter up for the day. Once firmly on the ground, Flashfire practically ripped her helmet off and stood up.

"Alright, let's make contact with Wystali's supplier and get that nonsense sorted as soon as possible. Then we'll see about getting the hyperdrive fixed. I could care less if the damn steaks go foul on him by the time we get back, serves him right for sending us in this old tub in the first place."

[Tiercel Habrok]

Habrok was still crouched over the shuttles sensor readouts, checking atmospheric levels, when Tavik hit the access hatches release. Pistons hissed as the door rose, a wave of stifling heat sweeping into the cramped cabin. Tiercel tried to say something, but a fit of coughing stole his voice as he trooped down the boarding ramp. What lay outside wasn't so much a spaceport as it was... space. A handful of fuel pumps, a couple of rusty looking droids and a shack that had the word REPAIR on it, minus both R's. Shielding his eyes against the glaring sunlight, Habrok turned a full one-eighty and saw nothing but dirt and dust. One of the droids, a battered looking CZ-series protocol model, suddenly stuttered to life and began to shuffle its way towards them.

“What is this place?”

[Vikki Tavik]

"It's where we landed, Hotshot. Weren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the nav system?"

Flashfire cast a glance in Habrok's direction that showed she was only partially joking. To add to it she offered a rather rough slap against the back of his shoulder as she walked forward to meet with the approaching droid.

"Howdy! I am CZ-482. Welcome to Flakrock, best little town on Enge-"

"We get it." After mouthing the first word to leave the droid with the slight shock of hearing a droid even utter such a thing, aside from it's annoying shrill voice, Flashfire interrupted it's apparent hard coded introduction sequence.

"I'm Captain Tavik of the Kalidor of the Galactic Empire, this..." she motioned to the man at her side. "is Ensign Habrok. We're here on official duty and your cooperation is expected and appreciated."

No time was given for the droid to respond before she continued.

"We are looking for a Mister Davengett, any idea where we might find him?"

[Tiercel Habrok]

As the droid began another long-winded and over-enthusiastic speech, Habrok eyed the area, wondering exactly how it qualified as a town.

“You'll find Sheriff Davengett in his home, on the top of rocky ol' Flakrock Rock.”

The droid swivelled and gestured its open arms towards one of the hills that sloped up from the plain they'd landed on. Sure enough, Tiercel could make out the shape of a building at its peak, which he hadn't noticed before on account of the brightness of the sun. He opened his mouth to speak, but the droid wasn't finished.

“Might I suggest you speak with Mistress Nell, the Sheriff's daughter, as Sheriff Davengett's automated security systems don't respond well to surprise guests!”

“And where do we find her?” the Ensigned chipped in quickly.

The droid threw its arms towards the sky and Tiercel thought it might have guffawed in astonishment if it had the hardware to do so. “Why, where anyone who's anyone in Flakrock would be – the cantina!”

[Vikki Tavik]

I'm in Chaos. We died in that ion storm and I have gone to the deepest darkest pit known to mankind. First I lose the CAG position and now this. Despite the internal grumblings, Captain Flashfire was completely calm and collected in appearance.

She brought a hand up and shielded her eyes, casting another look at the residence atop the hill. Something told her that whatever yokel so-called "security systems" were in place weren't going to be a match for two the Empire's finest... well, maybe more like one and a half with Habrok around. But starting things off on a sour note with the locals wasn't how they were expected to conduct themselves. Tavik sighed.

"To the cantina, then."

A second look around the town lead her eyes to linger upon the "epai" sign, a rusted piece of metal that she could only assume was part of the backing was swaying in the slight hot breeze before it finally gave in and broke off, crashing to the ground with a dull thud.

"I don't suppose the owner of that establishment will be there as well?"

"Why Ma'am, yes he is! Flakrock Cantina, home of the best darn nerf burgers this side of the Outer Rim!"

"Right..."

[Tiercel Habrok]

They followed the droid, who moved at an agonisingly slow pace, to the cantina. It was just beyond the aptly named Flakrock Rock, squatting in the shadow of the hill. A sign that looked far too bright to be standing amidst such a sea of endless sandy-brown directed any visitors towards an open door, where the sounds of conversation and low music could be heard drifting out from. The sign simply read: CANTINA.

“Well, at least this one's still got all it's letters,” Habrok muttered to himself as he paced down towards the ramshackle excuse for a cantina. There were stray planks of wood nailed to it all over the place, at all sorts of angles, giving the impression that it had suffered under more than its fair share of dirt-storms.

The presence of the blaster holstered on his hip had never felt more reassuring to Tiercel, who eyed the place with the reluctance of a man who has yet to truly wet his feet in the filthy waters of the galaxy.

“Only the finest nerf burgers and sweetest nerf milk in Flakrock Cantina!” the droid proclaimed, contrary to everything Tiercel had ever heard about nerf milk.

[Vikki Tavik]

As the door to the cantina opened the two Imperials were instantly met with an overpowering odor of sweat, beer, and what could only be hoped was far overcooked meat. Flashfire's eyes narrowed at the boisterous atmosphere made up of apparently every living civilian in the town.

"Next time something comes up like this, I'm going to find a way that Adder and his damn nuggets find some way to volunteer." Her voice was muffled by her own use of a quieter tone, gritted teeth, and the general ambiance of the cantina.

Squaring her shoulders and straightening herself up as best she could in a stance that she had used plenty of times when standing before the pilots of Bloodfin Squadron when briefing them (before all that was taken away from her), Tavik brought two fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly.

The piano music came to an abrupt halt and every head turned in her direction. The glares of unnapreciation weren't entirely unexpected...

"We're looking for a Miss Nell Davengett..."

The statement purposely was left without purpose. Time in the Outer Rim may have proven that the Empire didn't command utmost respect out here the way it did in the Core, but Flashfire figured the site of two fully uniformed Imperial officers may still have an affect. Hopefully it would turn out to be the desired one.

[Tiercel Habrok]

All eyes were on them now and with his helmet tucked under his arm, Habrok suddenly felt stripped bare. Though their uniforms weren't quite as ubiquitous as those of the Stormtrooper Corps, the spoked insignia of the Galactic Empire was stitched proudly into their flight-suits.

Swallowing down a lump of anxiety that was choking his throat, Tiercel cleared his throat and was about to speak up when a voice called out to them from the bar. “Who's we?”

Nell Davengett was stunning. Or at least, in the context of the cantina she was. When everything else was so rusted and dirty, it wasn't hard to stand out. A blonde with a sun-beaten complexion, she wore a floral-print summer dress that was cinched from the waist up by a corset. Balanced against the stool she perched upon was a parasol, which might have once been delicate but was now mucky from the dirty air. Visible beneath the high hemline of her dress was a blaster pistol sitting snug in its holster.

“Well, spit it out, sugar. We ain't got all day.”

There was laughter in her drawl. By the looks of things, they had all the time in the world. Tiercel's jaw tightened.

“We're here on business with your father, ma'am.”

“What kind of business?”

[Vikki Tavik]

"I'm afraid that's classified, Miss."

It wasn't really, but even on this backwater planet where the girl they were speaking to may have been seen as some sort of authority, it paled in comparison to the order of things in Flashfire's mind. That and the term 'classified' usually seemed to impress most folk. Usually.

There wasn't a trace of doubt that the girl in the floral dress was Davengett's daughter - primitive individuals were painfully easy to read and the fact that she was the one who had spoken up was louder than a 'yes ma'am, what can I do for you ma'am' ever would have been.

"Though I can tell you that we're here on behalf of Colonel Wystalin, the name should be familiar to your father."

[Tiercel Habrok]

A sound rolled past Nell Davengett's lips, something that peculiarly toed the line between a lusty groan and a sigh of disappointment. Tiercel hesitated, wondering whether the woman was in pain. After a moment, he established she was merely saying: “Ohhh.”

Tossing blonde curls from her shoulder, she went on. “Well if it's the Colonel you're here about, then I do apologise. Roderic has always been a close friend of the family...” Her eyes settled on Habrok as she slid off of her barstool, and gave the young gunner a playful wink. “Very close.”

Once again, Tiercel was lost for words. Beside him, Tavik practically crackled with the anger he was surely was rising beneath the surface of her professional exterior.

“What say we three take this business upstairs?” Nell went on, with a half-nod towards a stairway that wound up from the bar-floor.

[Vikki Tavik]

"That would be fine."

There was a crisp nod that shortly followed, enticing another half amused look from Nell before she sauntered up the staircase. Flashfire waited until she was out of site before glancing to Habrok again.

"I think when we get back and report to the Colonel, my sidearm may just have to have an accidental discharge." Although clearly joking, the statement gave away all the anger the Captain was thinking.

Tavik prided herself on being able to control her emotions, but in front of Tiercel she rarely gave a damn. He was part of Bloodfin, and while not a pilot, that made him like family in her mind... even if he would be the equivalent of the ostracized cousin in the corner that no one wanted to talk to but would get drunk just to watch him make an ass out of himself.

Her head nodded to the stairs. "Take point, be careful. There's no telling if she's got some sort of trap set up there for us. Especially if Wystalin's been an, ugh, personal acquaintance."

[Tiercel Habrok]

It was hardly surprising to hear that Colonel Wystalin might have bedded this woman. His appetite for the female form was common knowledge aboard the Kalidor, where there was scarcely a cadet who hadn't at least been on the end of a lusty glance. It wasn't a pleasant ship to serve aboard if you were a woman, but by the same token it did an excellent job of turning nuggets into cold, hard bitches who sooner cut your balls of with a hydrospanner than kiss you on the cheek.

As if reading his mind, Tavik glared towards the stares and the swaying hips of Nell Davengett, as she ascended into the privacy of the cantina's upper-levels. Suddenly incredibly aware of his surroundings, Tiercel followed with a slightly stiff gait, his weapon hand feel like it might spasm and fire off a volley of shots at the slightest provocation.

What they were lead to upstairs didn't, on the surface, appear to be a trap – unless it was a honeytrap. Nell Davengett's boudoir was just as filthy as the cantina below it, though the smell of stale ale wasn't quite as strong. Nell spread herself across the pump pillows of her bed with about as much elegance as she could muster, which was more than Tiercel but decidely less than he imagined the average woman she have at her command. She beckoned both of them to sit alongside her.

“Ma'am, is this really appropriate?”

[Vikki Tavik]

Flashfire had no desire to go sit with that... woman on her bedding. Before Tiercel had even asked his question, the Captain had taken a relaxed, though certainly militaristic, standing position with eyes focused sharply on Nell. As civil as she was attempting to be, there was no hiding that look lacking in amusement that clearly told that Tavik, at least, would not be playing Miss Davengett's games. If Habrok knew what was good for him, he'd follow suit.

Nell seemed to catch on quickly enough, letting out a small scoff of a laugh that was in some form a reply to Habrok and in others her response to the Captain's determination.

A long, drawn out breath was taken as Flashfire attempted to keep some semblance of order in her own thoughts. She had never been good at negotiating. Her people skills were practically null, except when it came to laying out a plan of attack that the Bloodfins would be going through.

"I really do hate to appear pushy, but we really are in a bit of a hurry. So, if you would be so kind as to direct us to your father..."

[Tiercel Habrok]

A heavy sighed escaped Nell Davengett's lips and with it, her whole persona seemed to deflate. With an irritable swipe at one of the plump, pink cushions on her bed, she jerked her chin towards the dusty window pane that allowed so little light into her boudoir.

“Daddy's up in our house on the hill, but he's busy tinkering with his doo-dads and whatsits. He leaves the running of the family business to me whilst he-”

Her words began to trail into silence and Tiercel, who had adopted a rigid stance to match the Captain's, frowned. Beneath the plink-plonk of the piano downstairs, there was a low rumbling rising. In a matter of moments, it had risen into the scream of atmospheric friction – the unmistakable sound of a ship making an uncontrolled re-entry. Nell leapt to her feet and ran to the window, throwing it open and thrusting her head out into the open air, just in time to see the cantina patron's pouring out into the street.

“My stars!” she gasped, jaw slack as she watched the orange, burning hulk of a now-unrecognisable space transport hurtling overhead like a meteor. Her wide-eyes tracked the vessel and its collision course to the grazing pastures in the distance. “The herds!” she shrieked. “It's heading for the herds!”

[Vikki Tavik]

As much as Vikki wanted to stand back and say it wasn't her problem, the simple fact remained that Nell stood in her and Habrok's way of completing the pointless errand run they were on. Which meant any damage to her father's assets would throw a rather large wrench in the gears of attempting to accomplish anything.

A guesstimate regarding the wisdom of nerfs to be at least self preserving enough they might actually run and avoid the crashing ship was considered, but never voiced. It was all too much too hope for.

Flashfire took a deep breath, glad that Miss Davengett was preoccupied and so couldn't see the look on the Captain's face that hovered between disgust, resignation, and was highlighted by eyes rolled.

"Alderaan's ghosts..." She managed to say the curse softly. A blessing at least before taking a deep breath and Flashfire spoke again with her usual crisp volume. "Do you have a speeder ready? I'll drive. If we're quick about it, you might be able to direct us into how to get your herds to move out of the crash zone."

The herds were unfortunately going to be top priority, keeping the majority of them alive was a task they could possibly accomplish... attempting to stop the crashing ship was right out, so any possible survivors could wait until the wreckage was stationary in whatever pit it dug itself.

[Tiercel Habrok]

In what felt like seconds, Habrok found himself in the passenger seat of a land-speeder, fumbling to fasten his safety webbing as Tavik gunned the engines. The thrusters surged the speeder forward with alarming speed – though the initial surge was lamentably brief, as the doubtlessly outdated engines spluttered and reduced their progress to a much less formidable pace. Glancing to the side, Tiercel could see Vikki just about kicked the accelerator pedal through the floor.

“Do you know anything about herding nerf?” he asked uncertainly, over the engine's roar. “They didn't teach us that at the academy!”