Starshadow III
Draven awoke in the stuffy shadows of the pod. His head was pounding, his shoulder still ached and burned. Sunlight streamed in through the open hatch. He blinked slowly as he came too, his eyesight beginning to focus on Kell who was sitting on the pod's entry frame, blaster in hand. A breeze came through the doorway, blowing more dust and sand into the pod. Small piles of it had already formed in the nooks and crannies of the pod's interior. Draven felt like his entire body was covered in a thin veneer of grit. He slowly tried to ease up, feeling shooting pains from his shoulder and letting out an audible grunt. Kell turned at the sound, seeing Draven stir and then looking past him and deeper into the pod. "Draegon, wake up."
Behind him Draegon started awake. She had fallen asleep watching him, laying against the end of the pod. After a moment she realized he was moving. "Draven, thank the Emperor you're not dead." He half scoffed, half chuckled at the remark, "I am I supposed to be?" Dravem winced as he finally managed to fully sit up against the pod wall. Draegon handed him a canteen of water and a ration bar.
"No, but when you collapsed we thought you were losing too much blood. Kell bandaged you up as best as he could." Draven absent mindedly touched his left shoulder, feeling the bandage wrapped around it. He looked down at it. It was stained a dark red, and needed changing. He slowly began to unwrap it.
"How long was I out?"
"About two days. We managed to fend them off last night, turns out lighting a fire right at the door works...if you don't mind the smoke. But we can't do that forever."
"We're running out of things to burn." Kell said from the pod door, keeping his eyes on the desert. Glancing around the pod Draven saw that anything flammable had been ripped out and piled in one corner of the pod, along with the few remaining pellets of survival fuel. He looked past Kell to the sea of undulating dunes before the pod, a bleak and barren ocean of sand for miles in any direction. But on the horizon, he spotted the rising plume of smoke; it pierced the sky like a tall tower, fading into the atmosphere as it blew away into space. It was in the direction of where he knew the Starshadow had gone down. Maybe that was thier way out.
"How much supplies do we have left?"
"About three weeks of ration bars, a handful of power cells for the blasters, maybe two weeks of water...if we're careful." Draegon answered, going through the various supplies in the pod.
"Do you think we could carry enough to make it to the Starshadow?"
Kell looked back, an apprehensive look on his face. "Draven do you think we can make it there? We have no idea how far it is to the wreck and if those...things...catch us in the open we're done for!"
"We're supposed to stay put. That's survial 101." Draegon chimed in from behind.
"I know that. Both of you." Draven winced as he finished unwrapping his shoulder. His uniform was torn, revealing a large, jagged puncture wound that had pierced deep into the tissue. Kell and Draegon had clearly tried to keep it clean, but the same thin veneer of grit was ever present. The skin around the wound was still red, and hot to the touch. Draven gingerly applied bacta to the wound, his face screwed and contorted from a mixture of pain and deep thought. He continued to clean and rebandaged the wound as he contemplated thier situation.
"The way I see it...we can either stay put, and hope those things lose interest before we run out of fuel...or...we can make a run for it and take our chances. If it were up to me..." Draven stood, "...I'd rather die on my feet."
Draven looked at both Kell and Draegon. Kell looked nervous, unsure about leaving the safety of the pod. Draegon look exhausted. If she was afraid, she might just be too tired to show it. Draven, already injured, was unsure of the path ahead. The open desert was perilous, and the Anooba would hunt them. The pod was safe, but for how long? The pile of fuel they had collected offered a few days more protection at most...and then the Anooba would inevitably wear them down. If they could make it to the ship's wreckage, they would have supplies, shelter, maybe even numbers if others from the crew had made it. He knew he could order them to follow him to the ship, but he knew what he was asking could not be done if they were not committed. No, they had to decide this for themselves.
"I am not ordering either of you to go. I will go and try to get the ship's comm online and contact the local garrison if I can. If you want to stay, you have permission too."
Neither Kell or Draegon spoke for a moment, both staring at the ground in thought. Draegon looked to Kell, who was biting his lip as he weighed the decision. Kell noticed Draegon's gaze, locking eyes with her. He gripped the blaster in his hands tightly, before nodding shakily. Draegon looked up at Draven, "We'll go with you."
They did not set out until the next morning. It had taken them the rest of the day to prepare a makeshit sled and to fill their packs, carrying everything they would need to make it across. They left the most frivilous survival gear - mostly cold weather items. They had taken two collapsible fishing poles and strapped them together with a tarp to form their sled, hoping it would slide easily across the desert sand. They waited out the night, burning a fire at the pod entrance once more to fend off the Anooba. Draven could see them, staying just outside the firelight, the flickering orange-yellow flame reflecting in their red eyes like phantoms of the night. The pack was patient. They could go days without eating or drinking, sleeping during the heat of the day and stalking them during the night. The three of them knew the pack would hunt them all the way to the Starshadow. That was certain. They could only hope to outpace them during the day while the pack slept, and fend them when darkness came. The night was restless and watchful. Draven ordered Kell and Draegon both to sleep, telling them he had slept long enough due to his injury. He knew neither of them would sleep well, but it was all he could do. Slowly the night gave way to morning, the few clouds scattering and running from the twin suns burning light as they crested over the far mountains and the towering dunes around the crashed pod. It was time to go. Draven turned to wake Kell and Draegon, but both were already strapping their boots on and packing their last few bits of equipment. Neither had slept. The trio stepped off into the desert, packs shouldered high, Kell dragging the sled behind him while Draegon gripped her blaster rifle. Draven held one of the survival axes, ready to swing at any moment; ontop of his back the long antennae of the beacon rose into the air, blinking softly. Nervously they climbed the first dune, half expecting the Anooba to lunge at them from beneath the sand. They struggled up the dune, sliding a step back for every two as the soft sand gave way underfoot. Finally they reached its peak, sweating in the early morning heat. Draven stood tall, surveying the surrounding sand for any sign. The only sound was the soft morning breeze, and the trio's heavy breathing. No Anooba in sight, they all let out a sigh of relief. Far in the distance, the smoke of the Starshadow's wreck faded into the horizon. Between them and the smoke was the vast expanse of the Dune Sea. Distance was impossible to guess. For a moment they stared into the distance together, taking in the vastness of what lay between them and their salvation. Draven tightened the straps of his pack, looking at Kell and Draegon on either side. "Alright, lets get going." The trio slid their way down the dune, the pod disappearing behind it. For hours they trudged through the sand, trading the burden of the sled as they wound their way over, around, and down the massive sand dunes like a ship in heavy seas. After some time and exhausting work they began to get used to the patterns of the sand, walking up the dunes at an angle before turning and coming back down the opposite way. There zig-zag path etched into the sand behind them, the wind slowly erasing any trace of them. For what felt like an eternity they marched on, before Kell fell to his knees in the scorching afternoon sun. Draven stopped, turning at the sound. Draegon raced over, checking his vitals and reaching for her canteen. All of them had been drenched in sweat, but now the heat of the twin suns had left only salt on their skin. Draven felt his wound itch; his entire body itched from the sensation. "Ok, I think we can stop here. Theres a few hours before sunset, we can make a shelter and get some rest before...before the night." Draegon nodded in approval while Kell gulped down water from her offered canteen. Draven looked back behind and over the horizon. The column of smoke from the Starshadow didn't seem any closer than it did this morning. How many miles had they gone? He had lost track, the vast sea of dunes making it impossible to tell. He shoved his worry to the back of his mind, and dropped his back to start setting up shelter. In a half hour they had setup a makeshift tent, allowing them to hide from the afternoon sun. The sides were slightly raised to allow the wind to blow through, keeping them cool. Their shelter was atop a large, flat dune, giving them a commanding view of the area around them. Kell changed Draven's bandage once more, the wound in his shoulder not looking much better. The bleeding was much slower, but it was clear the wound was infected. It would not heal so long as they were in the desert. Kell, Draegon, and Draven were all sunburnt, the skin beginning to chaff around their lips and eyes. They were worse for wear, and still had many more miles to go. But as the twin suns began to sink beneath the waves of sand, they did not worry about the distance they had to travel. The wind began to howl as the sand cooled, the makeshift tarp shelter snapping violently in the gusts. Each of them peered into the darkness, their ears straining for the howling of the Anooba. The hours passed slowly, the moons of Tatooine rising into the night, bathing the sand in a pale blue glow. That night there was nothing but the howling wind. The suns rose again over the sand, and trio set off once more into the horizon. Draven held hope that they had shaken the Anooba, that they would find refuge in wreckage of the Starshadow, and that someone was coming for them. The light of beacon blinked softly high above his head, its quiet chirp a comfort that marked the passing of time. For days they marched, resting in the heat of the afternoon sun, staring into the watchful night. Draven had lost the use of his shoulder as the infection took hold. His left arm was now useless, barely able to hold even the lightest items. Kell was struggling, the heat wearing himd down. Draegon, stronger than the both of them, was so burnt that her skin had become raw and bloody. The nights were cruel, the wind ripping at thier skin. They dared not to sleep, lest they be set upon by the Anooba they were sure lurked in the darkness. The nights had come and gone without so much as a single howl or yelp, not one sign of the pack that had hunted them. It tore at their minds, the exhaustion and dehydration tortuing them with hallucinations of eyes watching them from afar. The fifth day, the column of smoke seemed so near that Draven swore at times he could reach out and touch it. The sun had scorched their skin, the heat and the struggle of walking across the Dune Sea breaking them down bit by bit. They had slowed to a crawl. Empty canteens jangled on the sled, each of them now a reminder that time was running out. Kell, struggling to climb another tall dune, fell to the sand. Draegon came to him, Draven waiting as she checked his pulse. She looked at Draven, the sadness in her eyes telling him all he needed to know. He was alive, but barely. Draegon and Draven set camp for the night, keeping Kell beneath the shade of the tarp and comfortable. They kept watch, Kell's breathing ragged. Both of them knew what needed to be done, but neither had the strength nor courage. The suns rose again once more. They did not break camp, instead staying beneath the tarp and waiting, hoping that Kell would come to. Kell stirred as the suns began to set. "Where am I?" he said weakly. Draegon came to him, holding his head up and trying to give him some water. He coughed and sputtered, unable to swallow properly. "Tara?" Draegon furrowed her brow, looking to Draven. "Tara, I'm sorry..." Kell began. Draven closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain. Draegon tried again to help Kell drink, but Kell launched into a coughing fit once more, retching onto the sand next to him, staining it red. Draven opened his eyes, moving to try and hold Kell still with Draegon. Kell struggled for a moment, his eyes cloudy and glazed over. At Draven's touch, they cleared for only a moment. Kell relaxed, locking eyes with Draven. For an eternity the wind and the flapping of the tarp was the only sound. "I'm sorry, sir." Draven struggled to maintain his compsure. "Its ok. You can rest." Kell closed his eyes, nodding his head. Draegon and Draven slowly lowered him back to the sand. The next morning, Draegon and Draven set out once more into the morning sun, sliding down the dune. Behind them, one of the survival fishing poles stood high atop the dune, bearing the crewman rank plaque, watching as they faded into the horizon.
They did not set out until the next morning. It had taken them the rest of the day to prepare a makeshit sled and to fill their packs, carrying everything they would need to make it across. They left the most frivilous survival gear - mostly cold weather items. They had taken two collapsible fishing poles and strapped them together with a tarp to form their sled, hoping it would slide easily across the desert sand. They waited out the night, burning a fire at the pod entrance once more to fend off the Anooba. Draven could see them, staying just outside the firelight, the flickering orange-yellow flame reflecting in their red eyes like phantoms of the night. The pack was patient. They could go days without eating or drinking, sleeping during the heat of the day and stalking them during the night. The three of them knew the pack would hunt them all the way to the Starshadow. That was certain. They could only hope to outpace them during the day while the pack slept, and fend them when darkness came. The night was restless and watchful. Draven ordered Kell and Draegon both to sleep, telling them he had slept long enough due to his injury. He knew neither of them would sleep well, but it was all he could do. Slowly the night gave way to morning, the few clouds scattering and running from the twin suns burning light as they crested over the far mountains and the towering dunes around the crashed pod. It was time to go. Draven turned to wake Kell and Draegon, but both were already strapping their boots on and packing their last few bits of equipment. Neither had slept. The trio stepped off into the desert, packs shouldered high, Kell dragging the sled behind him while Draegon gripped her blaster rifle. Draven held one of the survival axes, ready to swing at any moment; ontop of his back the long antennae of the beacon rose into the air, blinking softly. Nervously they climbed the first dune, half expecting the Anooba to lunge at them from beneath the sand. They struggled up the dune, sliding a step back for every two as the soft sand gave way underfoot. Finally they reached its peak, sweating in the early morning heat. Draven stood tall, surveying the surrounding sand for any sign. The only sound was the soft morning breeze, and the trio's heavy breathing. No Anooba in sight, they all let out a sigh of relief. Far in the distance, the smoke of the Starshadow's wreck faded into the horizon. Between them and the smoke was the vast expanse of the Dune Sea. Distance was impossible to guess. For a moment they stared into the distance together, taking in the vastness of what lay between them and their salvation. Draven tightened the straps of his pack, looking at Kell and Draegon on either side. "Alright, lets get going." The trio slid their way down the dune, the pod disappearing behind it. For hours they trudged through the sand, trading the burden of the sled as they wound their way over, around, and down the massive sand dunes like a ship in heavy seas. After some time and exhausting work they began to get used to the patterns of the sand, walking up the dunes at an angle before turning and coming back down the opposite way. There zig-zag path etched into the sand behind them, the wind slowly erasing any trace of them. For what felt like an eternity they marched on, before Kell fell to his knees in the scorching afternoon sun. Draven stopped, turning at the sound. Draegon raced over, checking his vitals and reaching for her canteen. All of them had been drenched in sweat, but now the heat of the twin suns had left only salt on their skin. Draven felt his wound itch; his entire body itched from the sensation. "Ok, I think we can stop here. Theres a few hours before sunset, we can make a shelter and get some rest before...before the night." Draegon nodded in approval while Kell gulped down water from her offered canteen. Draven looked back behind and over the horizon. The column of smoke from the Starshadow didn't seem any closer than it did this morning. How many miles had they gone? He had lost track, the vast sea of dunes making it impossible to tell. He shoved his worry to the back of his mind, and dropped his back to start setting up shelter. In a half hour they had setup a makeshift tent, allowing them to hide from the afternoon sun. The sides were slightly raised to allow the wind to blow through, keeping them cool. Their shelter was atop a large, flat dune, giving them a commanding view of the area around them. Kell changed Draven's bandage once more, the wound in his shoulder not looking much better. The bleeding was much slower, but it was clear the wound was infected. It would not heal so long as they were in the desert. Kell, Draegon, and Draven were all sunburnt, the skin beginning to chaff around their lips and eyes. They were worse for wear, and still had many more miles to go. But as the twin suns began to sink beneath the waves of sand, they did not worry about the distance they had to travel. The wind began to howl as the sand cooled, the makeshift tarp shelter snapping violently in the gusts. Each of them peered into the darkness, their ears straining for the howling of the Anooba. The hours passed slowly, the moons of Tatooine rising into the night, bathing the sand in a pale blue glow. That night there was nothing but the howling wind. The suns rose again over the sand, and trio set off once more into the horizon. Draven held hope that they had shaken the Anooba, that they would find refuge in wreckage of the Starshadow, and that someone was coming for them. The light of beacon blinked softly high above his head, its quiet chirp a comfort that marked the passing of time. For days they marched, resting in the heat of the afternoon sun, staring into the watchful night. Draven had lost the use of his shoulder as the infection took hold. His left arm was now useless, barely able to hold even the lightest items. Kell was struggling, the heat wearing himd down. Draegon, stronger than the both of them, was so burnt that her skin had become raw and bloody. The nights were cruel, the wind ripping at thier skin. They dared not to sleep, lest they be set upon by the Anooba they were sure lurked in the darkness. The nights had come and gone without so much as a single howl or yelp, not one sign of the pack that had hunted them. It tore at their minds, the exhaustion and dehydration tortuing them with hallucinations of eyes watching them from afar. The fifth day, the column of smoke seemed so near that Draven swore at times he could reach out and touch it. The sun had scorched their skin, the heat and the struggle of walking across the Dune Sea breaking them down bit by bit. They had slowed to a crawl. Empty canteens jangled on the sled, each of them now a reminder that time was running out. Kell, struggling to climb another tall dune, fell to the sand. Draegon came to him, Draven waiting as she checked his pulse. She looked at Draven, the sadness in her eyes telling him all he needed to know. He was alive, but barely. Draegon and Draven set camp for the night, keeping Kell beneath the shade of the tarp and comfortable. They kept watch, Kell's breathing ragged. Both of them knew what needed to be done, but neither had the strength nor courage. The suns rose again once more. They did not break camp, instead staying beneath the tarp and waiting, hoping that Kell would come to. Kell stirred as the suns began to set. "Where am I?" he said weakly. Draegon came to him, holding his head up and trying to give him some water. He coughed and sputtered, unable to swallow properly. "Tara?" Draegon furrowed her brow, looking to Draven. "Tara, I'm sorry..." Kell began. Draven closed his eyes, his face contorted in pain. Draegon tried again to help Kell drink, but Kell launched into a coughing fit once more, retching onto the sand next to him, staining it red. Draven opened his eyes, moving to try and hold Kell still with Draegon. Kell struggled for a moment, his eyes cloudy and glazed over. At Draven's touch, they cleared for only a moment. Kell relaxed, locking eyes with Draven. For an eternity the wind and the flapping of the tarp was the only sound. "I'm sorry, sir." Draven struggled to maintain his compsure. "Its ok. You can rest." Kell closed his eyes, nodding his head. Draegon and Draven slowly lowered him back to the sand. The next morning, Draegon and Draven set out once more into the morning sun, sliding down the dune. Behind them, one of the survival fishing poles stood high atop the dune, bearing the crewman rank plaque, watching as they faded into the horizon.
