Member
Stryder BC
MaeB
Lady Arya
BunniesOfDoom
ShankySpice
Obscene Symphony
Lewascan2
tadcfnafIt had been a whirlwind of a day, one packed with events that even Jet couldn't fully unravel. The new additions to the crew, the chaos of the heist, the white-knuckle escape, and that tense encounter with Abilene—each moment blurred into the next. Now back aboard the ship, Jet casually tossed his holojournal onto the desk in his quarters. The journal was an old habit, a tool he'd picked up years ago to keep his thoughts in order. It served him well, especially on days like this, when his mind felt like it was chasing hyperspace trails. Not to mention, it was a much better use of time than wading into the middle of Fel and Aellyn’s argument.
They were at it, voices sharp enough to cut durasteel, but Jet figured it was better this way. For all their bickering, getting it all out in the open might just force them to understand each other. Or so he hoped.
Sighing, Jet peeled himself out of his chair and moved to his bunk. The bed groaned under his weight as he sank into the well-worn crevices he'd carved over countless nights. His body protested with a symphony of creaks and cracks—a reminder that fifty-plus years and ship life weren’t exactly kind bedfellows. But as Jet’s eyes closed, he couldn’t help but relish the rest he'd finally earned.
When Jet woke, the grogginess that clung to him was a good kind, the kind that spoke of a deep, well-deserved sleep. Sitting up, he perched on the edge of the bunk and rolled his shoulders, easing the tension coiled in them. Living on bunks like these for decades had taken its toll, but for all their discomfort, they were a constant Jet wouldn’t trade for anything. This was home.
He grabbed his rifle and tool belt, then made his way through the ship to the cargo bay, his boots echoing softly against the deck plating. The workbench, cluttered but familiar, greeted him like an old friend. From underneath it, Jet pulled out a battered storage box. To anyone else, its contents would seem like junk—a collection of wires, cables, and random odds and ends. But to Jet, it was far from scrap. It was his treasure trove of possibility.
Rummaging through the box, he pulled out the pieces he needed: an emitter, some wire, and a few scraps of metal. His hands moved instinctively, a mechanic’s precision born from years of working on speeders, ships, and anything else the galaxy threw his way. This wasn’t his first time putting together an emitter; after all, he’d reassembled the settlement’s beacon just yesterday. But this time was different. He didn’t need to protect a settlement—just himself.
As he worked, Jet’s mind wandered to the alternative: that old hoverbike collecting dust in the other bay. He smirked at the mental image of himself hunched over the tiny speeder, a mountain of a man crammed onto what was essentially a child’s toy. The thought alone was enough to make him chuckle. No, he’d take his chances on foot before subjecting himself to that spectacle.
With a final turn of his tools, the device was done—or at least, it looked done. Jet wasn’t one for perfectionism, especially when time was short, and materials shorter. Testing it wasn’t an option; the field was the test. He slapped a power cell—about the size of a ration canister—into the device and flipped the switch. The hum of energy told him it was working, for now. It would need to last just long enough to get him to the settlement and within range of their beacon.
Before he could head to the off-ramp, a rapid series of beeps and whistles cut through the quiet of the cargo bay. Jet turned to see Wrench rolling into view. The little droid chirped and whistled in quick succession, annoyed as the little thing usually was by people ignoring its advice or instructions.
“She took that ol’ thing? Aellyn?” Jet’s laugh rumbled in genuine surprise. “On the hoverbike? Ha!” He shook his head, thoroughly amused by the idea. That battered hoverbike was barely functional on its best day, let alone after years of neglect. If Aellyn had gotten it running, it was either a small miracle—or sheer dumb luck. Still chuckling, Jet patted the emitter device he’d just finished building. “Guess that settles it then. Looks like I’m on foot,” he said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Wrench let out a quick, sardonic whistle that almost sounded like a taunt. Jet just shook his head, smirking.
Jet made his way to the off-ramp, boots striking the metal deck with deliberate precision. He reached out to the console and pressed the button to lower the ramp. The hiss of hydraulics filled the air, followed by the whine of the motor as the ramp descended. It groaned under its own weight, the sound echoing faintly through the cargo bay. Jet stood motionless, rifle slung over his shoulder and emitter device clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for the ramp to settle into place with a muted clunk.
The planet stretched out before him, a harsh and unforgiving landscape painted in muted tones of browns and grays. The horizon was dotted with jagged cliffs and sparse vegetation, the kind of terrain that promised a treacherous trek. Jet took a step forward, the weight of his boots pressing into the compacted soil. His body tensed instinctively, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. He wasn’t taking any chances—not with predators lurking.
The emitter hummed softly in his hand, an untested piece of ingenuity that Jet couldn’t fully trust just yet. He adjusted the power cell’s connection, ensuring it was seated tightly, though he doubted it’d last for much more than the trek ahead. His rifle’s presence offered some reassurance, but he knew better than to rely on it as his only line of defense. As far as he was concerned, if the emitter didn’t work, his aim was his last resort.
Jet moved cautiously, his steps measured and deliberate. His mind worked overtime, calculating distances, possible escape routes, and the emitter’s radius all at once. The air around him was still, almost unnervingly so, as if the hostile creatures that prowled this planet were watching from the shadows, biding their time. Every few steps, his head tilted just slightly as he listened for anything out of the ordinary.
The settlement was still a ways off, visible only as a faint shimmer in the distance, likely caused by the heat rising from the ground. It didn’t look much closer than it had when he’d started, but Jet kept moving forward, trusting his steady pace to get him there in one piece.
The emitter’s hum seemed louder now, or maybe Jet’s ears were just attuned to its sound. He kept it angled slightly outward, hoping its signal would hold true. The device was the culmination of all his experience and ingenuity, but as far as he was concerned, the real test would be whether it could keep those kriffing predators away. His grip tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “Don’t let me down.”
Jet’s boots pressed into the soil with every cautious step, his senses on high alert. The hum of the emitter felt weaker now, sputtering irregularly, but it was too late to turn back. The settlement shimmered faintly on the horizon. Then he heard it—a low, guttural growl that sliced through the quiet and froze him in place.
The sound came from his left, deep and resonant like thunder rolling through a canyon. Jet turned his head, his rifle shifting in his grip, as his gaze locked on the shadowy form emerging from the underbrush. It moved with predatory grace, low to the ground, its glowing eyes burning like molten embers. Jet’s breath hitched. One of those damned cats.
The creature began to circle him, growling deeply as its tail flicked with violent intent. Jet kept his rifle raised. His eyes darted to the shadows, watching for signs of more predators, knowing all too well that these kings of the food chain often hunted in packs. He forced his feet to keep moving toward the settlement, careful not to turn his back on the beast. The predator growled again, louder this time, its muscles coiled like springs.
Then it lunged.
The cat closed the distance in an instant, claws outstretched. Jet threw himself to the side, rolling hard against the ground, his emitter slipping from his grip. The creature’s claws tore into a nearby tree, splintering the bark and embedding themselves deeply. It snarled, thrashing to free itself as Jet scrambled to his feet.
He raised his rifle and fired two quick shots, the deafening cracks echoing. The first round struck the creature’s flank, the second grazed its shoulder, but instead of deterring it, the beast roared angrily. Its molten eyes locked onto Jet with renewed ferocity as it ripped its claws free from the tree and crouched low, readying itself for another attack.
Jet braced himself, muttering, “Oh, kriff..”
The cat leapt again, its powerful form colliding with Jet and sending him sprawling onto his back. Before he could react, the creature was on top of him, its molten eyes inches from his own. Jet managed to wedge his rifle horizontally between them, using it like a crude barrier to keep the snapping jaws at bay. The predator snarled and swiped at him, its claws tearing into his jacket and grazing his skin. Jet strained against the weight, his muscles burning with the effort of keeping those fangs away.
The rifle groaned under the pressure, its metal bending unnaturally. Then, with a sickening crack, the weapon snapped in two. The jagged pieces split in each hand.
Without hesitation, Jet thrust his mechanical arm into the creature’s maw. The beast recoiled, growling frantically as its teeth scraped against the unfamiliar metal.
He drove the splintered weapon into the creature’s snout with all his strength. Blood sprayed across his face as the beast roared in agony, thrashing violently but refusing to let go of Jet’s arm. He stabbed it again, this time forcing the jagged edge deep into the sensitive flesh of its mouth. The predator choked and stumbled backward, pulling Jet upright with a sharp tug.
Seeing his opening, Jet jabbed the weapon one final time, driving it into the beast’s throat. The predator howled, releasing Jet’s arm as it staggered back, blood dripping from its snout and maw. It stared at him for a long moment, its burning eyes dimming slightly, before slinking off into the shadows with a guttural growl of defeat.
Jet stood there, chest heaving, his mechanical arm slick with blood and saliva, the once-pristine metal was now scratched, dented, bent, its surface marred by the creature’s powerful jaws. It looked less like the reliable tool he’d depended on for years and more like the contents of his scrap box—a patchwork of parts and pieces. The jagged piece of rifle was still clutched tightly in his hand, his body aching and his jacket torn to shreds. He wiped his face with his sleeve, muttering under his breath, “Next time, build a bigger kriffing emitter.”
He flexed the arm experimentally, feeling the grind of misaligned components. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold—for now. Jet muttered under his breath, “Guess I’ll be adding this to the repair list.”
Clutching the jagged halves of his broken rifle in his other hand, Jet shuffled forward, his steps heavy and uneven. Every muscle in his body ached, his jacket hung in tatters, and his face was streaked with dirt and blood. The settlement continued to shimmer in the distance, a promise of safety that now felt agonizingly far away.
The broken rifle pieces felt heavy in his grip, their sharp edges a reminder of the fight he’d just survived. Jet tightened his hold on them, his knuckles white. They weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. If another predator decided to test him, he’d be ready—or as ready as he could be.
As he trudged forward, relief began to wash over him, but he didn’t let it slow his pace. Jet kept moving. The settlement was close now, its walls coming into view. Jet straightened slightly, his grip on the rifle pieces loosening as the promise of safety finally felt real. Only then would he allow himself to breathe, his shoulders sagging as the tension began to fade.
Jet glanced down at his arm, the battered metal glinting faintly in the light. “You held up,” he said quietly, speaking more to himself than the arm itself. Then, with a weary chuckle, he added, “Barely.”
He turned toward the settlement gates, his steps still heavy but his resolve intact. The fight had left its mark, but Jet was alive—and that was enough for now.
They were at it, voices sharp enough to cut durasteel, but Jet figured it was better this way. For all their bickering, getting it all out in the open might just force them to understand each other. Or so he hoped.
Sighing, Jet peeled himself out of his chair and moved to his bunk. The bed groaned under his weight as he sank into the well-worn crevices he'd carved over countless nights. His body protested with a symphony of creaks and cracks—a reminder that fifty-plus years and ship life weren’t exactly kind bedfellows. But as Jet’s eyes closed, he couldn’t help but relish the rest he'd finally earned.
When Jet woke, the grogginess that clung to him was a good kind, the kind that spoke of a deep, well-deserved sleep. Sitting up, he perched on the edge of the bunk and rolled his shoulders, easing the tension coiled in them. Living on bunks like these for decades had taken its toll, but for all their discomfort, they were a constant Jet wouldn’t trade for anything. This was home.
He grabbed his rifle and tool belt, then made his way through the ship to the cargo bay, his boots echoing softly against the deck plating. The workbench, cluttered but familiar, greeted him like an old friend. From underneath it, Jet pulled out a battered storage box. To anyone else, its contents would seem like junk—a collection of wires, cables, and random odds and ends. But to Jet, it was far from scrap. It was his treasure trove of possibility.
Rummaging through the box, he pulled out the pieces he needed: an emitter, some wire, and a few scraps of metal. His hands moved instinctively, a mechanic’s precision born from years of working on speeders, ships, and anything else the galaxy threw his way. This wasn’t his first time putting together an emitter; after all, he’d reassembled the settlement’s beacon just yesterday. But this time was different. He didn’t need to protect a settlement—just himself.
As he worked, Jet’s mind wandered to the alternative: that old hoverbike collecting dust in the other bay. He smirked at the mental image of himself hunched over the tiny speeder, a mountain of a man crammed onto what was essentially a child’s toy. The thought alone was enough to make him chuckle. No, he’d take his chances on foot before subjecting himself to that spectacle.
With a final turn of his tools, the device was done—or at least, it looked done. Jet wasn’t one for perfectionism, especially when time was short, and materials shorter. Testing it wasn’t an option; the field was the test. He slapped a power cell—about the size of a ration canister—into the device and flipped the switch. The hum of energy told him it was working, for now. It would need to last just long enough to get him to the settlement and within range of their beacon.
Before he could head to the off-ramp, a rapid series of beeps and whistles cut through the quiet of the cargo bay. Jet turned to see Wrench rolling into view. The little droid chirped and whistled in quick succession, annoyed as the little thing usually was by people ignoring its advice or instructions.
“She took that ol’ thing? Aellyn?” Jet’s laugh rumbled in genuine surprise. “On the hoverbike? Ha!” He shook his head, thoroughly amused by the idea. That battered hoverbike was barely functional on its best day, let alone after years of neglect. If Aellyn had gotten it running, it was either a small miracle—or sheer dumb luck. Still chuckling, Jet patted the emitter device he’d just finished building. “Guess that settles it then. Looks like I’m on foot,” he said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Wrench let out a quick, sardonic whistle that almost sounded like a taunt. Jet just shook his head, smirking.
Jet made his way to the off-ramp, boots striking the metal deck with deliberate precision. He reached out to the console and pressed the button to lower the ramp. The hiss of hydraulics filled the air, followed by the whine of the motor as the ramp descended. It groaned under its own weight, the sound echoing faintly through the cargo bay. Jet stood motionless, rifle slung over his shoulder and emitter device clutched tightly in his hand, waiting for the ramp to settle into place with a muted clunk.
The planet stretched out before him, a harsh and unforgiving landscape painted in muted tones of browns and grays. The horizon was dotted with jagged cliffs and sparse vegetation, the kind of terrain that promised a treacherous trek. Jet took a step forward, the weight of his boots pressing into the compacted soil. His body tensed instinctively, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of movement. He wasn’t taking any chances—not with predators lurking.
The emitter hummed softly in his hand, an untested piece of ingenuity that Jet couldn’t fully trust just yet. He adjusted the power cell’s connection, ensuring it was seated tightly, though he doubted it’d last for much more than the trek ahead. His rifle’s presence offered some reassurance, but he knew better than to rely on it as his only line of defense. As far as he was concerned, if the emitter didn’t work, his aim was his last resort.
Jet moved cautiously, his steps measured and deliberate. His mind worked overtime, calculating distances, possible escape routes, and the emitter’s radius all at once. The air around him was still, almost unnervingly so, as if the hostile creatures that prowled this planet were watching from the shadows, biding their time. Every few steps, his head tilted just slightly as he listened for anything out of the ordinary.
The settlement was still a ways off, visible only as a faint shimmer in the distance, likely caused by the heat rising from the ground. It didn’t look much closer than it had when he’d started, but Jet kept moving forward, trusting his steady pace to get him there in one piece.
The emitter’s hum seemed louder now, or maybe Jet’s ears were just attuned to its sound. He kept it angled slightly outward, hoping its signal would hold true. The device was the culmination of all his experience and ingenuity, but as far as he was concerned, the real test would be whether it could keep those kriffing predators away. His grip tightened, and he muttered under his breath, “Don’t let me down.”
Jet’s boots pressed into the soil with every cautious step, his senses on high alert. The hum of the emitter felt weaker now, sputtering irregularly, but it was too late to turn back. The settlement shimmered faintly on the horizon. Then he heard it—a low, guttural growl that sliced through the quiet and froze him in place.
The sound came from his left, deep and resonant like thunder rolling through a canyon. Jet turned his head, his rifle shifting in his grip, as his gaze locked on the shadowy form emerging from the underbrush. It moved with predatory grace, low to the ground, its glowing eyes burning like molten embers. Jet’s breath hitched. One of those damned cats.
The creature began to circle him, growling deeply as its tail flicked with violent intent. Jet kept his rifle raised. His eyes darted to the shadows, watching for signs of more predators, knowing all too well that these kings of the food chain often hunted in packs. He forced his feet to keep moving toward the settlement, careful not to turn his back on the beast. The predator growled again, louder this time, its muscles coiled like springs.
Then it lunged.
The cat closed the distance in an instant, claws outstretched. Jet threw himself to the side, rolling hard against the ground, his emitter slipping from his grip. The creature’s claws tore into a nearby tree, splintering the bark and embedding themselves deeply. It snarled, thrashing to free itself as Jet scrambled to his feet.
He raised his rifle and fired two quick shots, the deafening cracks echoing. The first round struck the creature’s flank, the second grazed its shoulder, but instead of deterring it, the beast roared angrily. Its molten eyes locked onto Jet with renewed ferocity as it ripped its claws free from the tree and crouched low, readying itself for another attack.
Jet braced himself, muttering, “Oh, kriff..”
The cat leapt again, its powerful form colliding with Jet and sending him sprawling onto his back. Before he could react, the creature was on top of him, its molten eyes inches from his own. Jet managed to wedge his rifle horizontally between them, using it like a crude barrier to keep the snapping jaws at bay. The predator snarled and swiped at him, its claws tearing into his jacket and grazing his skin. Jet strained against the weight, his muscles burning with the effort of keeping those fangs away.
The rifle groaned under the pressure, its metal bending unnaturally. Then, with a sickening crack, the weapon snapped in two. The jagged pieces split in each hand.
Without hesitation, Jet thrust his mechanical arm into the creature’s maw. The beast recoiled, growling frantically as its teeth scraped against the unfamiliar metal.
He drove the splintered weapon into the creature’s snout with all his strength. Blood sprayed across his face as the beast roared in agony, thrashing violently but refusing to let go of Jet’s arm. He stabbed it again, this time forcing the jagged edge deep into the sensitive flesh of its mouth. The predator choked and stumbled backward, pulling Jet upright with a sharp tug.
Seeing his opening, Jet jabbed the weapon one final time, driving it into the beast’s throat. The predator howled, releasing Jet’s arm as it staggered back, blood dripping from its snout and maw. It stared at him for a long moment, its burning eyes dimming slightly, before slinking off into the shadows with a guttural growl of defeat.
Jet stood there, chest heaving, his mechanical arm slick with blood and saliva, the once-pristine metal was now scratched, dented, bent, its surface marred by the creature’s powerful jaws. It looked less like the reliable tool he’d depended on for years and more like the contents of his scrap box—a patchwork of parts and pieces. The jagged piece of rifle was still clutched tightly in his hand, his body aching and his jacket torn to shreds. He wiped his face with his sleeve, muttering under his breath, “Next time, build a bigger kriffing emitter.”
He flexed the arm experimentally, feeling the grind of misaligned components. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold—for now. Jet muttered under his breath, “Guess I’ll be adding this to the repair list.”
Clutching the jagged halves of his broken rifle in his other hand, Jet shuffled forward, his steps heavy and uneven. Every muscle in his body ached, his jacket hung in tatters, and his face was streaked with dirt and blood. The settlement continued to shimmer in the distance, a promise of safety that now felt agonizingly far away.
The broken rifle pieces felt heavy in his grip, their sharp edges a reminder of the fight he’d just survived. Jet tightened his hold on them, his knuckles white. They weren’t much, but they were better than nothing. If another predator decided to test him, he’d be ready—or as ready as he could be.
As he trudged forward, relief began to wash over him, but he didn’t let it slow his pace. Jet kept moving. The settlement was close now, its walls coming into view. Jet straightened slightly, his grip on the rifle pieces loosening as the promise of safety finally felt real. Only then would he allow himself to breathe, his shoulders sagging as the tension began to fade.
Jet glanced down at his arm, the battered metal glinting faintly in the light. “You held up,” he said quietly, speaking more to himself than the arm itself. Then, with a weary chuckle, he added, “Barely.”
He turned toward the settlement gates, his steps still heavy but his resolve intact. The fight had left its mark, but Jet was alive—and that was enough for now.
