Corvala

"Yes, obviously," Helge snapped. Her eyes had about them a dangerous gleam, staring demandingly at the hardly moving man in front of them. Karl felt that now was the time for sentimentality? How--- well, Helge couldn't exactly figure out how this situation appeared. It certainly wasn't amusing, nor was it ironic, but it did teeter on the edge of annoyance and exasperation. They didn't have time to be remembering their past as evoked by a moldy box of junk because at any moment, all plans for escape would become futile. 

Watching Karl rummage through the box stirred nothing within Helge's sensibilites. If circumstances had been different, it would have been certain that salty streams would be flowing down her face. She had feared and loathed that cardboard cube, always knowing it hid in the darkness of her home. When she felt utterly alone, she would sometimes open the closet door, leave it ajar, and speak aloud as if it were Karl tucked up inside, or even repairing an imaginary pipe leak. There were nights of instabilty, fueled by potent liquids, in which Helge would temporarily lose a semblance of reality. During these episodes, she would speak aloud as if all was normal, that nothing had changed, and would ask Karl what he'd like for dinner, or how work was. Once in a while she could remember the conversations the next morning, and felt embarrassed and self-loathing. There were other times while both drunk and sober, she would threaten to burn, dispose or even donate it. She never found the courage to do so, pathetically thinking that one day he'd come back wondering where his favorite shirt or book was. How delusional she was! Clinging to an impossible and false memory!

Maybe things were better this way. Perhaps fate was punishing her for her weakness and complacancy. Now was the time to reclaim her identity in this new form. It was time to re-shape and re-arrange, never again accepting the former cages in her daily life.

Helge scoffed. Fate? Yeah, right. 

"Quit stalling and let's go," Helge said, picking up her bag. "Just say it now if you don't want to come with me. We need to leave."

Helge's eyes remained locked on Karl, as if transfixed by something otherworldly. However, she wasn't exactly looking at him- it felt like she was looking deeper than his corporeal form. It was almost as if she was boring a hole into his very being with her thoughts to see what little bit of himself actually remained. No matter how hard or how close she felt she was, something seemed to deflect her mind. Her eyes shifted out of focus momentarily as she mused on his question: would she stay with him as soon as they got off of Shili? Could she even stay with him? What good would come out of doing so? Conversely, what bad? Were they still in this together, anyway? Where were they going to go? What were they going to do? Just hop on a ship and fly until it ran out of fuel? Was it worth anything to try to salvage their lives? Where would they pick up from?  Could they pick up from when he left her, or did their pasts change too much? The only option was to continue from this dead-yet-alive state, wasn't it?

Too many questions, damn it! They were only wasting time here!

"I don't know yet," Helge responded wearily, coming out of her daze. "We'll figure it out on the ship. Do you have any other homes on any other planets? Are there any safe places you know of? Any bases with the... organization you were with we could seek refuge, even temporary?"

"Finally," Helge thought to herself. Karl was finally speaking coherently and providing reasonably decent intel. Hopefully this person, who for now was faceless and yet to be under any scrutiny, could be able to pull through and help them out of the planet. Helge hurriedly found another rucksack in her room and tossed it to Karl to shove in whatever he thought was necessary for the time being with what little she had in the apartment. There was no time to ask any further questions because the moment Karl collected some things, the deep whirr of an engine has heard from outside the closed windows. Helge and Karl paused to listen intently. Heavy footsteps were stomping on the roof. Two or three blaster shots were fired, and the heavy metal door that led from the roof to the top floor slammed down to the ground off its hinges. "How did they find us!?" Helge asked hoarsely. "Do you think they have the building surrounded?" Without another moment's hesitation, Karl grabbed Helge's wrist and led her down the winding staircase. They reached the basement of the building where the tenants went to dispose their trash in the incinerator. Helge conveniently found broken pieces of wood to cram against the door handle to bar the way for their pursuers. In this area past the incinerator was a door leading out a back alley with a chain linked fence that led down a narrow alley. "They could be blocking that exit," Helge said as Karl was about to undo the door's lock. "Quick, down this hallway. There's a way into the sewers. It goes along for miles under the city, and we can pop out at its edge."

Karl and Helge trudged along the flooded tunnels in relative silence at a relatively moderate pace. Karl led the way with a miniature flashlight he found in Helge’s closet as Helge hung back by about two feet. The sewers had become flooded due to a torrential storm that had passed through Corvala recently, and the water levels were much higher than they typically would have been. The only sounds that were heard so far were their own grunted cursing and the echoes of their splashing through the area. At this point, they were more or less fully recovered from the wounds they received from their scuffle at the hospital (oh, bitter irony!) and were focused upon their next objective. Helge wondered who Karl’s contact could be, whether or not this person could be trusted, and whether this person was a him or a her. She shook her head roughly as if to expel the creeping thoughts of suspicion. It didn’t matter anymore what happened in the past- it wasn’t like anything could be done about it now.


The pair didn’t exactly know this city from below, but their sense of direction seemed to be heightened as a result of their transformation. They were able to faintly hear the mobilization of the troops above, feel the vibrations of their footsteps, and figured out which direction they were headed. Karl and Helge were then able to maneuver through the tunnels in a way any and/or all trackers would be unable to sense them. They continued on, deeper and deeper, until they thought it was safe enough to exit and scope the area.


They eventually came across a rusty looking ladder. Putting a finger to his lips, Karl climbed first, his weight causing it to squeak and groan. With one rung to go he paused, listening intently to the goings on inches from his head. Deeming it still enough, Karl pushed up on the man-hole cover, shoved the heavy metal disc aside, and pulled himself up cautiously. He looked around in every direction and saw nothing- no civilians, no foot soldiers, no speeders, no droids. Karl’s eyes narrowed, but he knew they had to keep moving. He shined the flashlight downwards to signify for Helge to follow. She met him at the top with a dour expression. “How do we even know that was water down there?” she nearly snarled. Karl shrugged and added, “Eh.”  

Karl and Helge walked down the barren street cautiously- they smelled dead flesh, much more dead than their own, and it was very close. They stopped at the corner and saw the figure of a lone soldier a few yards ahead. It was a Schiff alright, but one of a seemingly much lower caliber than them. It seemed lost, gripping its gun tightly to its chest. Was it brain dead? Lost? Not wanting to lose this opportunity, Karl took off his rucksack and dropped it on the ground after he removed his transponder. “Turn this on as I take this guy down,” he instructed. “I need to access my contact’s information, and I need to do it fast. Those guys can track me through it, and we only have enough time to get the number. I’m going to steal his so we can call through that instead in case the system is being monitored. Turn mine off as soon as we get the number. Understand?” Helge nodded and did as Karl said. He dashed to the unaware monster from behind at an incredible speed. He snapped its neck as a child would do with a pencil, and ripped the creature’s transponder from its pocket. Karl dashed back to where Helge was and shouted for the number under the name “Treblinka.” He typed it into the stolen device as she read it aloud. Helge switched off Karl’s transponder while she watched him pace impatiently as the other one continued to just ring and ring…

There was a throbbing in Helge’s lower lip that she had yet to realize until the call between Karl and his “Informant” was over. During this time, Helge heard every word, and a sense of dread was increasing more and more. She had no idea who this person was, what their objective was, and why they were so willing to conceal them from those other monsters. She paced back and forth, anticipating another attack at any moment. A trickle of sour tasting blood slicked Helge’s left incisor, a result of biting down too hard, and she was horrified by the sensation. She spat immediately, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Hopefully this cut would heal as fast as her bullet wounds did. She felt Karl gazing at her, and his eyes appeared to give off a feeling of… nervousness? Apprehension? She couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Was he more afraid of what was next to come than she thought? Did he say something he thought she would be upset about? Whatever it was, they could talk about it later. They had the rest of eternity more or less, right?


“Well,” Helge said in a tone straddling impatience and perseverance, “You are absolutely sure we can trust this person, right? We’re not going to be ambushed once we reach Saarlan, right? You know, I have so many questions about this- about you, who this person is, why we’re being chased like criminals, and why we’re risking our lives in the first place, but now isn’t the time for that. I want answers from you, Kitch. I expect some once we meet this “Treblinka,” if that is even their real name. Let’s get moving.”


Without waiting for any input from Karl, Helge began walking in the direction towards Saarlan. Though she had never been there before her transformation, she just innately knew how to get there just by her senses and by their surroundings. They began their journey at a decent pace, careful to avoid major streets and crossings. They were able to avoid several makeshift checkpoints that were erected to catch them by climbing on top of buildings and jumping over roof tops. They decided to avoid the sewers from then on, fearing that eventually the Schiff scouts would get wise to their plans. As they reached the outskirts of the city, they noticed the largest check point of all with soldiers peering inside of passing vehicles leaving Corvala. However, there was a flaw in this set-up: this area was right below a government building, easily accessible by a certain fast food restaurant’s large erected emblem that was situated beside it. The driver was free to pass after inspection, open road ahead for miles. Karl and Helge merely jumped on to this official looking structure and bided their time until a large army supply truck drove by. They knew how long it would take for the soldiers to do their task, and after that, they were free to hitch a ride atop said truck. They went unnoticed by the inept guards, their fall masked by the revving of the vehicle, and decided to stay in this fashion for as long as the driver went towards their desired destination.

Neither Karl nor Helge seemed to be listening as the one named Hälgel continued to chitter on in the back of their transport. The vehicle wasn’t luxurious, the journey to the next town certainly wasn’t, and their situation was farthest from. It would seem that the couple was in silent agreement in this: they just wanted to be left alone. Ironic, isn’t it, how the past few years were spent immersed in mental isolation, and now that they were together again, they didn’t seem to have to have anything to say anymore. Nothing about their reunion went how they had fantasized during those never ending nights. Of course, given their experiences during the last thirty six hours, one couldn’t blame them. They could, however, blame the other for being caught up in this mess of monsters versus humans. To be fair, this game wasn’t so straight forward- it was a group of humans who made the monster serum. Human scientists, behind the veil of research for humanity’s sake, were the ones who had injected bystanders at their whims with the liquid monstrosity. With pencils in hand, they were apt to watch these subjects reel in pain whilst furiously scribbling figures. They watched the transformations take place, executing those who proved to be “unsuccessful” for the endeavor of the day. And even though at the present moment, it was a batch of monsters like themselves hunting Karl and Helge down, they weren’t unconvinced that it was humans who most likely sent out the orders to eradicate them. Though they were new to this game, they were swiftly learning that this was all rigged from the start.

The woman continued to speak while she was checking her gear as her counterpart continued to eat and nod in assent to whatever it was she was talking about. Karl and Helge, sitting side by side, had their heads down during most of the ride. They swayed with the motions of the truck and lightly bumped shoulders as the driver drove over the rocky terrain. Each time their limbs made contact faint sparks of recognition would be felt by them both; for the first time since their ill-fated reunion they were touching without some mortal threat looming near. Who could say what these sparks encompassed. Resentment? Hatred? Crippling despair? Inexpressible violence? Desire? An overwhelming need to grab each other by the hair, savagely rip of their clothes and take each other right here, right now, in the back of a dirty military truck? Proclaim that they never stopped loving the other, and even at this moment, despite everything that has happened, they can again be the lovers they were always meant to be? Whatever it was, whatever they imagined, neither of them moved away. Whatever they were feeling, it remained only as that.

Time passed, but it didn’t matter to the newly turned Schiff. They eventually made it to the new city, this resort town the elite military figures spent their holidays. To Karl it looked too clean, too rustic, too simple, too boring, even. The perfect place for Helge and me to spend the rest of our lives- if we had the luxury of staying on Shili… “Welcome to Saarlan,” Markus said jovially as the truck paused in front of a non-descript jazz club. “As you can see, the cobble stoned rode is too narrow for the truck to fit, so the rest of the journey has to be on foot. The hotel is this way.” Markus motioned with his rifle, and strapped it to his back. The driver elected to stay inside to “keep guard” (he said as he eyed the club) and the other four hopped out the back. As they began walking up the sloped stone rode, Hälgel made a call on her transponder. Soon, very soon, Karl and Helge could get some answers. Primarily, after spending years being involved with countless dangerous missions, Karl would finally get to see the face behind the hauntingly distorted voice.

*It was several days before the Togruta nurses allowed her into the realm of the outside, but eventually the strange blue alien had passed all of the tests administered to determine a clean bill of health -- as far as the Togruta could identify. Syren was as physically healthy as any Togruta or Human on Shili, which did not mean that she was at all healthy, merely that the Togruta had no idea how her physiology worked. Since the well meaning healers had nearly killed her twice, Syren thought it best to hedge her bets on obtaining a clean bill of health while visiting here.

Syren strolled around the garden in silence with an equally silent partner. The tall man accompanied her as sunlight gleamed down. Syren felt the tiny symbiotes in her skin and hair rejoice at the radiation. She already felt better photosynthesizing, but at the same time, she knew that it was a temporary fix. Her symbiotes had access to food now and would stop stealing energy from her for a short time, but in the end she would still feel the malaise and general discomfort coming over her from not being connected to the billions of other lifeforms across the galaxy.*

"Besides being trapped in quarantine on a planet that you are exiled upon, you seem uncharacteristically melancholy." *The man remarked towards her mood in deep tones. Syren quirked an eyebrow at him before replying.*

"Besides all that, you say? I would have to think on it for half a moment, but it may make me seem uncharacteristically broody or contemplative." *Syren stopped at the base of a tree and stretched her arm up to a lower hanging branch. She hung for a moment swinging gently back and forth. All the while, the tall man eyed her carefully. After several minutes of swinging, Syren pulled herself up into the tree and started climbing slowly. She needed to work some of the tension of bed rest from her muscles. And get away from his stare of pity.

Surprisingly he followed her. Syren poked her head out of the crown of foliage with verdant hair streaming behind her in a brisk wind. Her skin rippled as the wind hit it, the natural stripes darkening and seeming to widen in order to blend better with the green of the trees. The man pulled up on the branch beside her. Since he was an Epicanthix, his skin and hair did not make such a wild display in the play of the light or wind. Instead he very carefully folded a hand over hers and stared into the sun at the horizon.

Syren did not flinch away, but she did not seem any more comforted by the gesture. After a moment he coughed gently.* "So, your thing that you do. The um, feeling the feelings thing. It's gone? You are like everyone else in the galaxy now? No more superpowers?"

*He spoke with an air of nonchalance, as if losing one's connection to the Force was no big deal. The levity was forced, and Syren did not need a metaphysical connection to the universe to feel that.

After a short pause she took in a deep breath and spoke softly but unmistakably:* "Bitch please. I breathe underwater, who needs superpowers?"

*First Reed blinked in disbelief, then he felt his mouth hang open just a smidgen, finally he let out a dry chuckle.*

"Well." *He let his voice carry back to the orderly hovering at the edge of the garden.* "I don't ever recall the Togruta having much of a soft spot for slavers." *Reed crossed his arms over his chest, more of an intimidation tactic... not that a herglic would find much intimidation from a puny humanoid like Reed, but all the same, Reed could not overcome his biology. He quickly noticed and uncrossed his arms, allowing a hand to come up to his chin as if he were thinking.* "Who wants her? And how in Panatha's name do they know to get a hold of me to find her?" *The last part was said in an undertone. Reed was puzzled. And Syren would be interested, maybe, then again, maybe not. He glanced up into the tree looking for the blue aquatic ape that was Syren. Unfortunately, she was beginning to blend into the tree. Chromatophores... or some such nonsense. He sighed, but turned his attention back to the bulk of the herglic.