STAR WARS: TAAREN

CHAPTER THREE.

       GETTING ABOARD the hulking ship had been easy enough; yes, it involved a lot of sneaking around, but those first few shadowy corners were good hiding spots. Navigating the ship without talking to anyone, however, was harder, and Puk was constantly having mini heart attacks when Ashla followed him, so worried that she would get caught --- after all, she couldn't change her form... Apparently. Puk was still very confused about that. The protocol droid led them through the labyrinthine passages of the ship, and lower, lower, lower, into the very bowels of the craft, and Puk, as Trinek, breathed a worried sigh.

       "Where do you think you're taking us, metal man?" He asked in low clicks of the Raptoid dialogue, finding it sounded ever so ugly on the human tongue. The droid's 'eyes' lit up for a moment, and it turned to face them.

       "Well, 'Master Trinek', you very so rudely requested my help, so my first thought was to take you to the control room. You do not want my Masters to invade your planet, do you not? This is the way to do it, with minimal interaction, considering you do not seem to know any basic, whatsoever." It replied promptly, and Puk rolled his now cold blue eyes, and in the darkness, the tiny, montral-headed Ashla snickered.

       "Fine. That'll do. But you'll have to tell us what to do." Puk spat, following the droid further, and it made a noise of indignation.

       "I am a protocol droid, not a mechanic!" It exclaimed, but a hand around the droid's 'neck' did the trick. Puk had no idea how to turn off his disguise, but if he could make it think he could, then maybe it would comply.

       "I can slice your metal casing open whenever I want. So, I would do what I ask if I were you." He hissed, and even Ashla had her dagger out. She'd broken one droid, she had no reservations about doing it again. Everything on this ship was foreign. It didn't belong. Even a six year old knew that.

       "I can most certainly try, Master ---" The droid left his sentence hang empty, waiting for a name expectantly, and the boy grunted. He may have been but fourteen year old, but in this shell, in this body, he was much older. Much more intimidating. He would mimic the ways of the older Ra'ar in his village, and make himself appear bigger than he was. That way the droid would take him seriously.

       "Taaren. Puk Taaren." He replied, and the droid bowed its head.

       "Very well, Master Taaren." It said softly, and after walking a bit further, the droid stopped. "Here we are." It announced, leading Puk around the large metal core in the centre of the room. There was a control panel, and the droid stood by it. "We just need a key to open that up. If we can rewire it, then we can ---" But he was interrupted by claws slashing through the metal harshly, and even Puk himself looked surprised, standing by Ashla and staring at a human arm, but a reptilian hand, clawed fingers curled, and those blue eyes flicked to the door of the control panel, now skewed from its hinges. "Oh my word! O-Or you could just do that!" The droid cried, but Puk was still staring at his hand. Slowly, Ashla leaned over.

       "Maybe you can change when you think really hard about it." She mumbled, and Puk's lips pressed together in a thin line. He wasn't used to the lack of snout. It felt empty.

       "Yeah, maybe." Puk murmured in reply, and he let himself concentrate on bringing back Trinek's arm. He'd need it, after all. Soon, it was returned, but not without that intense, burning pain, that Puk hadn't seemed to notice when he'd somehow transformed Trinek's hand to his own the few minutes before. He smiled at her through gritted teeth, and Ashla offered one back, albeit more sympathetic. "You --- You were right." He sighed, and the droid looked from them, back to the control panel.