Episode X Dark Hunter

Investigation

"She is alive." A woman's voice.

"Banged up, but she'll live." A man.

Footsteps.

"Dess."

Pressure on her back—a hand, perhaps.

"You must survive." The woman.
"Patch, wake up." The man.

A dream.

***

"Don't . . . call me . . . Patch." Videsse's voice was weak as she spoke through her dry mouth, but the sound waves crashed into her eardrums and throbbed through her head, the pain rebounding rhythmically in her skull. She became aware of her neck as she felt its muscles tighten and begin a spasming cascade down her back; a waterfall of pain and strain rolling.

She cried out in agony, causing not a waterfall, but now a tsunami of torture starting in her ears and descending distally to her toes. She bit her lip and tried not to make a noise to save herself from another convulsion of pain. It worked with the sharp bolts of pain, but as she ascended out of her stupor, the dull pain that she was swimming in began to rise. Nothing was free from it: her hands, arms, head, legs. The ache rose like the tide. She gasped and held her breath.

Her eyes opened, letting in a deluge of light from the late afternoon sun. Another swell of pain passed over her whole body and she closed her eyes reflexively. Tears began to pool in her goggles. She laid that way for another half of an hour, hopelessly undulating in the waves of turmoil.

Finally, she attempted a trial of moving her fingers. Even that was unbearable. However, she forced herself. The dust that had covered them began to move, and her hands emerged. She squinted her eyes to only allow a sliver of light and rolled her head from one side to the other. She groaned and bit her lip almost to bleeding.

With another huff her elbows lifted, and her arms weakly pushed her body up to her knees. More red dust fell from her like a fine shower. Her cramped muscles revolted against the movement but eventually softened enough for her to rise to a half stand. She leaned to the left, her arms hanging limp with exhaustion.

She squinted through the light to see the remains of her dwelling. The shelter was gone, nothing but black and burnt remnants of plastocrete and the fading wisps of smoldering fires. The Vigilance was gone and with it her droid. It all was swept away, everything except the two dead men. They were lying face down and their black capes feebly blew in the gusts of wind.

Videsse took one aching step, and then another, like a dead woman coming out of a grave. Her limping, undead body traversed the twenty meters, a distance that may have been twenty kilometers for Videsse, and yet, with difficulty she found herself collapsed on her knees next to one of the dead men.

Whether from the pain or the whiskey or both, Videsse leaned over and promptly vomited onto the ground at the man's side. She cried out in agony again, experiencing a new sensation of pain at her inner core. She wiped her mouth and then propped herself up, taking a dozen deep breaths before investigating the body.

She labored to roll the man to his back with heavy breaths and frequent breaks. The dead man was starting to get stiff.

"I must've been out for hours," she said to herself after recognizing the rigor mortis setting in. Her voice was not as intense in her ears as it had been. It was a welcomed development, but still, she winced at the sound of it.

The faceplate on the dead man was smooth and featureless with two bands that fixed snuggly to his ears. Videsse unfixed it and placed it on the ground next to her. The man's face was a deep orange, with open, white, pupil-less eyes. His stark white, long hair lifted and fell in the wind. Videsse had never seen a species like this before. She checked his belt to see if he had a lightsaber like the other man. There was none. His only weapon was the rifle. In fact, there was nothing else on him that would give any indication of who he was and why they came for her ship—just a black robe, a simple belt, vague mask, and his rifle—not even a commlink.

After him, Videsse eventually finished her examination of the other man, with the same results. The only difference was that his white hair was braided. Those were the only insights she would get.

When the pain subsided to a bearable level, she realized how thirsty and weak she was. She was in no condition to walk to the Eyrie, so the harvester was going to have to do.

"But first," she said to herself, though did not finish her thought out loud.