Scene 6: An Unpleasant Crisis

The one thing everyone seemed able to agree on, Empire and Republic alike, was that if the galaxy took humanoid form, Taris would be its armpit. Jerusha found it difficult to imagine that anyone had ever actually chosen to live there.

And as if it wasn't enough to have to endure oppressive humidity, endless swampy muck, and a fetid stench that she doubted would ever scrub off her skin, Quinn assured her that the true difficulty with Taris was something even more delightful. Apparently there was also an indigenous life form that had a unique way of propagating - they passed on a plague that infected creatures vaguely like themselves. This plague would then strip its victims of all coherent thought and reduce them to the same sort of mindless slavering beast that had infected them.

Lovely.

Vette had insisted that she was still not physically recovered from her injuries, despite returning to normal activity about the ship and a very healthy appetite, and suggested that Quinn should continue to accompany the warrior as she tracked down the Republic generals. Jaesa, after all, was still quite new, and would probably be more of a liability than an asset. It just made sense.

Perhaps her time among the Sith had made her more paranoid than she used to be, but Jerusha thought Vette's explanations were a bit suspect. If it was simply from a desire to get out of being stuck on such a horrid planet herself, why the insistence that Quinn go instead of Jaesa? As she sat beside Quinn on the shuttle to the Imperial Reclamations command center, Jerusha pondered Vette's behavior further. There didn't seem to be any particular benefit to the twi'lek that she could see. It just didn't make sense. With a sigh, she resolved to put it out of her mind and focus on the assignment Baras had given them.

Compared to the krayt dragons and sand demons she'd faced on Tatooine, rakghouls should not present much of a challenge, Jerusha had decided after doing a bit of research. While their fangs and claws were dangerous, they had neither scales nor chitinous plating. There were a few cases of some that had developed thick, leathery hides, but the main danger seemed to be twofold. First, they often traveled in large packs. The solution for that was simple: avoid the larger groups, and strike decisively when attacking to reduce the number of enemies as quickly as possible.

The second concern was psychological. Newly-turned rakghouls took some time to shed the vestiges of the person who had been infected. The thought of Vette's brilliant blue skin fading, her eyes losing their mischievous sparkle… Jerusha shuddered. But after reflecting that Vette was still aboard the ship, and therefore not in any danger, she cheered up again, chuckling to herself. Perhaps that had been the reason for her insistence that Quinn go along - she figured he'd be the easiest for Jerusha to take out if he got infected.

She glanced over at her partner as they traipsed along the path that squished wetly beneath their feet, and felt her smile fade as she realized that at some point, things had changed. She really didn't want to get rid of him anymore. But somehow it went even beyond that… Of course, the thought of someone you know turning into a drooling monster would give anyone the creeps, she rationalized. The plan to have Quinn monitor things from a safe distance was simply a matter of practicality.

Jerusha very carefully gave a wide berth to the larger hordes of rakghouls that lazed in the sludgy muck. She edged instead toward one that had wandered off to snack on a half-rotted corpse pinned under a collapsed girder, some distance away from any of the others. For whatever reason, they seemed to avoid the ruins, preferring the swampy overgrowth that had begun to reclaim the planet.

With a nod to Quinn and a head-tilt toward the rakghoul, she ignited her saber. While she did not have the thirst for destruction that every other Sith seemed to, she had to admit that there was something exhilarating about launching toward her prey with her saber drawn and hissing with power. The creature had just enough time to look up and snarl in mingled fear and fury before she landed and, with a flash of her blade, sliced it neatly into two oozing lumps of flesh.

But despite the ease of the kill, Jerusha stayed in her half-crouch, lightsaber ready, her senses still alert. The other acolytes had often mocked her unusual caution (and her skin tone), calling her a Jedi poser, but then, she was the one who was still alive. It was never wise to relax one's guard before being absolutely certain of victory. Moments later, a scuttling hiss proved her correct. Apparently the rakghouls didn't mind the collapsed buildings at all; they just had more places to hide. She filed that bit of information away for later and reached out through the Force, sensing a few more rakghouls approaching. No… more than that. At least half a dozen.

There might have been more still, but then she saw a flicker of movement and had to shift her concentration. The walkway she stood on wiggled uncertainly as the creatures darted toward her, their claws scraping at the aged metal with hundreds of tiny shrieks that blended into a high-pitched clatter that sent prickles up her spine. She'd felt the supports shudder beneath her feet as she landed, reminding her that the building was no longer intact and probably not structurally sound.

At first she fought viciously, hoping she could quickly finish off the pack. But by the time she'd finished off the first pair that had charged at her, three more rakghouls had joined them. Her shield snapped and fizzled, straining to absorb the force of their attack, and she realized she wouldn't last much longer if she didn't protect herself. But dividing her focus slowed her down, and the pack showed no sign of diminishing. She'd already lost count of how many she'd killed, yet they still surrounded her.

Up close, she could almost make out the remnants of the people they had been, before their eyes went wide and bloodshot and their skin withered and tightened. Her revulsion gave her a new surge of energy, though she could feel fatigue weighing her limbs down. She twisted, ducked and stabbed again. Another beast fell, but even as it did, more took its place. She wondered for a moment if rakghouls were more intelligent than anyone realized, if the creature off by itself had been intended as a lure.

But she didn't have more than that moment to wonder, for just then one of them leaped at her. It grabbed on to her saber arm, just above the elbow, wrenching it badly before she smashed it in the face with her other hand. Pain shot through her shoulder, white-hot and insistent. She pushed her agony into rage and bludgeoned the rakghoul again and again, until it dropped. It snarled again, but she kicked it aside while taking her lightsaber in her other hand, whirled, and sliced neatly through it. There was no time to beat it into a pulp the way her frenzy demanded, not with one beside her and another trying to edge around behind.

Her movements slightly more erratic, now that she was fighting with her weaker hand, she lunged and swept into a spin. The move neatly severed the head of the rakghoul next to her, but the other jumped backward, out of her reach. She turned further and was about to press the attack when she saw that the reason she only had that one to worry about was that the rest of the cluster had broken off and headed up the hill.

Toward Quinn.

Exhaustion pressed down on her shoulders, but it was no match for her stubbornness. There was no way she was going to let someone under her protection be harmed. She took a deep breath and let out a roar of outrage and indignation.

Everything seemed to pause for a fraction of a second before toppling into chaos. The horde that had been racing toward Quinn was now focused once more on her. Jerusha barely managed to dispatch the lone rakghoul near her before she was swarmed. She had no idea how many more might be crawling up along the crumbling duracrete walls. Fortunately there was a way to take care of that. Reaching as far as she could out into the Force, she pulled every scrap of power she could, concentrated it within her, and slammed it all down against the walkway she stood on.

There was a deep groan from the building, followed by the scream of metal tearing. The walkway tilted, and then dropped out from beneath her. As the entire structure collapsed in on itself and she fell through the air, Jerusha had just enough time to wonder how much the impact was going to hurt.

The answer was: a lot. Jerusha blinked, and immediately missed the freedom from sensation that came with being unconscious. At the moment it was manageable, a low thrum that radiated from various places on her body and overlapped to create a general halo of pain. But she could tell that any movement would send her nervous system into frenetic activity to remind her just how badly she'd injured herself.

There was a sudden sigh to her right. Jerusha flicked her glance that direction without moving her head to see Quinn kneeling beside her, head bowed. He looked up a moment later and gave her a tired smile. "Didn't lose you," he said softly.

She tensed, readying herself for the poking and prodding that always came with medical attention. While she knew it was for the best, it inevitably hurt. But she wasn't about to allow herself to so much as flinch. She might not have use of her limbs, but she did still have her pride. She tried to smile back at him, but even that faint motion was uncertain. "Of course not," she said, her voice sleep-rough. She wondered how long she'd been out. "I'm Sith, after all. It takes a lot to finish us off."

Gradually, she noticed how gentle his hands were as he applied the various ointments and stims and bandages. She let out a sigh as she let go of the tension she'd been clinging to, letting her form soften. It really wasn't bad. Actually … it felt kind of … nice. When he slipped an arm around her shoulders to prop her up, watching how her pupils reacted, she relaxed against him. "You know, you could have left me," she added.

His brows arched. "Is this where you claim that you didn't need any help and you would have been just fine on your own?"

Jerusha narrowed her eyes at him, which was as close to a glare as she could manage. It would have to do. "No, just …" She sighed again, this time from frustration. "You would've been safer," she muttered, which was as close as she was willing to get to apologizing for not keeping him safe.

Quinn chuffed out a not-quite-laugh. "That would not be much comfort compared to the knowledge that you … Well, at any rate, I wouldn't." He looked down at her again, his jaw set. "I won't leave you. So you can take that out of your strategies."

He hesitated then, but looked at her thoughtfully, like there was something else he wanted to say. Or - do? Jerusha suddenly had the wild thought that he might kiss her. The intensity of his gaze should have been chilling, but she felt quite warm and comfortable just then. Of course, the thought was completely ridiculous. She abruptly became aware of the silence, and felt her cheeks begin to burn. Perhaps she was supposed to say something. Oh dear. What had they been talking about? Oh! Leaving. Strategies. She attempted a smile. "I thought you were the one in charge of our strategies."

He smiled back at her, and when his eyes crinkled at the corners, she felt a little short of breath, though that was probably just due to her injuries. "I suppose you are right." He cleared his throat, then, carefully letting go of her and sitting up again. "Besides. Can you imagine Darth Baras congratulating me for returning from the mission, when you had not?"

Of course. That was a much more practical reason for not leaving her behind. And Quinn was always practical. It was a major reason he was so effective. One of his best qualities. It made no sense for her to be disappointed by it.

Briefly shaking his head, he looked back at her again, and added, "Or Vette. Gracious. I think I might be more afraid of her reaction than his." One corner of his mouth pulled up even further.

Jerusha smiled a little wistfully, realizing that the moment (if there had even been one) had passed. "She is indeed a formidable opponent."

Still watching her carefully, Quinn stood. "While I am glad to see that your injuries have not damaged your sense of humor, I would suggest that we head back to the ship, rather than continue ahead. You will be more effective once you have rested."

Before her body could protest, Jerusha pushed herself upright. It hurt, but not as much as she'd expected. "I'll admit, I'm not particularly excited about the thought of sticking around here. And I would really, really enjoy a long, hot shower."

Was it her imagination? Or was Quinn actually blushing? But he simply nodded once, briefly, and they walked silently back to the speeder.

Author's Note: Augh, it's both fascinating and infuriating to know what's going on underneath with these two. There's so much that they don't say, so much they refuse to reveal! I hope I set it up well enough that when things finally ARE revealed it feels like a final piece dropping into place to fit perfectly, rather than a surprise that comes out of left field and smacks you upside the head.

I love summer. I'm studying Portuguese using Duolingo, I'm in a musical at the community theater, I get to visit with friends and family, and I also have days (though not as many as I'd like) when I just stay home and don't talk to anybody. I like those days a LOT.

Hope things are going well with you, readers! Drop me a line and let me know what you're up to?