Warrior ◊ Star Wars

chapter one; still hating on sand

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....an unfamiliar sight orbited just outside Jakku's atmosphere. A large star destroyer sat in the dead of space. Among its crew was an unwilling soldier alone in an abandoned transport pondering over the massacre he just witnessed. In it's brig, an imprisoned pilot was interrogated as he desperately hoped his companion continued his given mission without him. Miles below the ship on the planet's surface, a round astromech sped through the desert unknowingly on a course to cross paths with two scavengers who, in the present moment, looked upon the wreckage of a forgotten era.

The quiet wind whistled between the metal, whispering against the forgotten vessel. It cast large shadows on the ground, providing much needed shade for travelers, if there were any. Mara found it refreshing, shielding herself from the direct heat of the sun, but still feeling the over abundance of warmth.

She stepped into the fractured ship, taking in its vast interior. The dark space presented a rusted hull, aging and broken. It groaned under its own weight, the weathered cruiser not suited for decades of sandstorms after its defeat. In its youth when the Empire was the controlling power in the galaxy, the ship would've been a fearsome foe. It probably tumbled from the sky, under heavy fire, the explosions beacons to signal its demise. Its crew probably wished they were anywhere but their current predicament, not welcoming their untimely deaths.

Mara closed her eyes, allowing a wave of nostalgia to wash over her briefly. When she opened them, she looked upon the piece-of-junk battered star destroyer in a new light; it was a treasure chest of things just waiting to be salvaged. 

Ever since Rey had found her two years ago in the middle of nowhere, the woman had been forced to adapt to the life of a scavenger. To see everything that was broken or old with new potential and unseen value. Sure, it took a few months of Rey telling her repeatedly not to throw everything rusted to the side, but she'd adapted. Sort of.

There were still things that were just crap.

Mara looked back over at Rey, who was finishing pulling their sleigh of sorts up the hill of sand. As she set it down and approached her, the blonde pulled out the ever-familiar flat, circular coin.

"Heads, I use the rope." She told her companion, who nodded.

The coin was Alderaan currency, old and a little bent, but overall useless. The two had found it about six months ago and now used it to determine minor disputes; who climbed the rickety bar or, in this instance, used the rope instead of climbing the whole way.

Mara tossed the coin in the air, waiting for the turns to settle the little question. Rey seized the opportunity to quickly snatch it mid-air. The girl smiled to herself as she purposely positioned it to the tail's side. She held it in front of the blonde's face, smirking, "I get the rope I guess."

Mara plucked the coin out of her grasp with a sigh, "Aren't you a genius."

Rey simply pulled goggles down to her eyes and started to secure the wraps around her head, "Or I just know when to take an advantage when I see one."

The blonde knew that a life spent finding scrap metal among the dunes and fending off unwanted attacks had taught her friend that.  She just kept pretending to grumble, finding the situation more amusing than annoying, "Or you're just a cheater."

As Rey started towards the rope, which had been set and readied the last time they'd been there, Mara pulled down her eyewear, not bothering to cover her head with wraps. To her, they were just unneeded unless of sandstorms.

Rey had made it a good thirty yards up by the time Mara had climbed her three. She had already almost fallen once, the aging, weakened metal interior breaking immediately under her grip. She cursed under her breath, partly at the fallen hand-hold, partly at the non-existent second rope that'd be a great help at the moment. And she still had yards to go before the first main converter.