Star Wars: Vodran

Trama

Odala walked quickly through the underbrush, using the force to push branches away from her face, causing them to break and fall to the ground. She had felt something inside her break, and she had to keep moving. She didn't know what propelled her, it was just such an instinct, she couldn't help but follow its influence.

"Odala," Gren called, "where are we going? Odala, we have been walking for miles, where are you going?"

She did not answer, she hadn't seemed to hear him, simply gazing into nothingness as she continued to walk. She couldn't talk if she could, the instinct wouldn't let her.

"Odala this is crazy, we need to go back, we left all of our supplies back 'ere!"

He landed a hand on the back cuff of her robes, stopping her in her tracks. Without hesitation she turned around, grabbing his wrist and twisting it. He knelt slightly, wincing in pain. It popped and shifted with the pressure.

"Odala!" Zyyacaha shouted, running forward and grabbing her own wrist. She launched a glare into his eyes, a crazed look that made him feel cold, and then it disappeared, her eyes lost their animalistic intensity.

"I-I..." She dropped Gren from her grasp, looking at her hand as though it was that of a rancor. She looked horrified, now looking at Gren and Zyyacaha.

"I'm sorry..." She whispered, before taking off.

"Odala, stop!" Zyyacaha bellowed, looking once at Gren as he held his writhing appendage, before sprinting after her.

She ran full bore through the dense trees, using her agility to slip through the trunks and branches in the low morning light. She jumped from the ground into the canopy, jumping from branch to branch, Zyyacaha in hot pursuit below.

"Odala stop! Stop running!" He shouted quickly, catching his breath. He wasn't as coordinated as she was, so climbing after her was not a possibility. He closed his eyes, and stopped, focusing his energy on her, suspending her in mid air.

"Zyyacaha let me go! Damnit Zyy, let me down!" She shouted furiously, kicking in the air, crushing the trunks around her with her anger. He lowered her to the ground infront of him, wrapping her in his arms. She was tense, muscles strained, but his touch relaxed her. She dropped slowly to the ground, as he followed her down, her breathing shallow and quick. He softly cooed in her ear, sweet things that made her smile, and for the first time, she cried in front of him. Her tears were unexpected to her as they stained his robes shoulder. She blushed, feeling as stupid and helpless as a child, but looking up, his sea green eyes looked on her with care.

"You're all right." He whispered, and softly kissed her lips. She hadn't expected him to, and pulling back saw the surprise on his face.

"I'm sorry... I just..." She tilted her head down, looking at the wood fragments by her knees. "We don't have time for this... The imperials will be back, and I don't want to lose you or Gren like we did the twins." 

Zyyacaha nodded, letting her go. She rose and turned to see Gren walking slowly toward them.

"Done beating people up I see?" He said cooly.

"I'm sorry Gren, I don't know what came over me."

"Whatever, I'll live."

She wasn't entirely satisfied with the response that Gren had gave, but he seemed genuine. Zyyacaha rose to his feet, solemnly addressing Gren with his eyes.

"It's-" he started, interrupted by a low rumble. A hard thud somewhere above the clouds pounded against their ears, and looking up, they're hearts sank, their stomachs becoming uneasy, and their legs becoming weak. As though it had come to life from a history hologram, the clouds gave way to an Acclamator-class troopship, an outdated model from the Old Republic and the great clone armies they had all heard about. It was specially marked, maroon carvings seemed to embroider the exterior, stemming from the command bridge, where a white half crescent sat over the observation deck. It was larger than life, taking up most of the sky, and coincidentally blocked the sun into a half crescent in the sky. The land around them grew dark as it passed over the sun, marking its descent. Small black objects swarmed out of it, as though it were a floating butcher bug hive, the horrible whirr of TIE fighters all too familiar as they tore through the humid air.

"Why!" Gren screamed in uproar at the incoming warship, "what threat are three Sith to you Imperial bastards? What have we done?"

"This is the price of freedom Gren," Zyyacaha muttered, calm in his voice, but not in his expression.

Odala, in her head, realized what she meant to this group. She was a leader. An idol. A savior. She stood confidently, powering up her light saber as the fighters closed in.  Silently she stood, the warm glow of sun glazing her face in the midday light. Zyyacaha stepped forward as well, unhitching his own saber. Gren's  eyes widened with surprise.

"Your not serious!" He protested.

"You're welcome to run," Zyyacaha said, his saber sparking up, "but I'm sick of running..."

Gren's expression changed to an uncertain look as he took a small step forward.

"This is crazy!" He said, joining Zyyacaha's side. Zyy grinned. Gren started his blade as well, three red blades sat ablaze in the clearing.

"Together," Odala muttered

"Together."

"Together..."

They all readied themselves as the fighters made a pass, green blaster bolts shredding through the tall Vadranian trees, more and more, until the ground was covered in burning, sizzling leaves and scurrying nunas that appeared from the brush. The TIEs flew past, four, five, six, eight, twelve; more than the fugitives could count. The sabers whined with effort as they deflected the bolts into the sky. On and on they came, until the last flew over, and the mass of fighters came curving around in the sky, rally for another pass. The mass split in two, coming toward them at two sides. The second barrage peppered the ground around them, as they had no trees to hit. Gren and Zyyacaha faced toward the two masses, Odala in between them, deflecting any strays.

"Try aiming for the pilots!" Gren shouted, grunting as he slammed a bolt back into the sky. It burned through the air, carving it's way into a TIE cockpit, and tearing it's way through the pilot. He slouched forward, his fighter veering sharply to the left, crashing into several other fighters, sending them spiraling over and crashing into the overgrowth. The fighters scattered away from the crash, some swooping too low and clipping the trees, tearing the solar panels and plating apart as they crashed.  The fighters flew through the sky in chaos, zigzagging while dodging each other, midair collisions riveting through the air, some managed to regain control, swooping for another pass against the band on the ground. Odala rose a single hand in front of her, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, a collection of three TIEs stopped still in the air. One of the three powered the ion engine desperately to try to break free of her grip, the turbines whirring the same whirr, whining under the stress of not moving forward. Odala focused harder, keeping the persistent fighter stationery. The noise of the engine shifted violently, clicking and grating deep inside the machine. A capacitor or a transistor came loose and the dull roar of the engine seared into a loud pop, and the cockpit was engulfed in flames. The pilot inside pounded on the viewport, hollering as the fire closed in on him. His black armor melting and welding to his skin. The pain was excruciating, he took off his helmet as it began to deform. His face was burning and scarring.  Odala's flat-palmed hand closed into a tight fist as she blocked out his horrendous cries, and the TIEs crushed into masses of metal suspended in the air.  The flaming TIE exploded into a floating inferno, pieces dropping to the ground and igniting small flames. Thrusting her arms forward she hurled the masses as projectiles at the other fighters, striking some which sputtered out of the sky. Amidst the explosions the TIEs had departed from the airspace, whirring with that twisted purr, and flying back to the Troopship, which was gone, having landed somewhere on the horizon. Trees cracked in the distance, animals called in fear, and a loud crash reverberated through the humid morning air. The ships door had open, the bridge extending from the side of the troop ship, and falling onto the sod, the footfalls of thousands of soldiers echoing loudly into the forest. They heard this, despite it being hidden by miles of vegetation. They envisioned the imperial soldier hoard on their way to them. And the reality of the situation frightened them.

"We need to go..." Zyyacaha said, belting his light saber and jogging toward the trees, the others following, no one disagreed.

***