Underling: Standing Watch

Underling: Standing Watch

Word count: ~1,200

Blithe has been out of communication with Commander Echo for nearly a standard galactic year.

Read the back story on this post by @imperial-strategist

Blithe stood sentry duty on the fourth moon of the third planet from the center of nowhere.

She adjusted the breather on her face, trying yet again to fit it snugly enough to keep out the sulfurous stench of the surrounding swamp. The breather had been designed for a near-human species, so it almost—but didn't quite—fit.  No matter how much she fiddled with it, it was going to leak. She knew this from experience, but the impulse to try to block out the nauseating smell was like an itch you can't resist scratching. Still, breathing the fumes wouldn't kill her, so an ill-fitting breather was better than nothing.

As she scanned the trees for anything out of place, Blithe ran through some simple practice motions with her electrostaff, working the stiffness out of the old injury to her right arm. They were alone on this mud ball, other than the local non-sentient life forms, the most common of which was the tooka-sized amphibians that hooted in the trees from dawn to dusk. So, security was light. Just one sentry at a time by day, and two by night when the larger of the planet's carnivorous fauna were out and about. Standing watch was more about deterring the wildlife from wandering into the cave system that hid their base than fear of detection. This planet was so far off the beaten path, it took a standard day at sublight to reach the nearest hyperspace lane. And the mineral makeup of the caves blocked all traces of what took place within from scanners, should anyone actually think to look here.

Why they were here, rather than closer to, well, anything at all was above Blithe's pay grade. Story of an underling's life, she thought.

A scurrying sound to her left snapped Blithe’s attention into focus. She cocked her head, her brows furrowing as she strained to focus past the ambient swamp noises. The source of the disturbance was behind an oversized cargo container a dozen paces away. Too big to fit through the cave entrance, it had been left under the canopy of an especially gnarly, vine-draped tree. You could fit a half dozen stormtroopers inside that crate with enough room left over for a small dewback, if you had a mind to. So it could easily hide any of this world's predators. If this had been a night watch, Blithe would have called for reinforcements before investigating further. But it would be some time yet before the scary things woke up.

The scurrying changed to a rhythmic scraping, giving Blithe the clue she needed to identify the visitor. She crept toward the crate, hefting her staff in both hands. It sparked fitfully when she switched it on, taking longer than it should to light with the blue glow that showed it was working. Blithe had bodged it together from spare parts, and it was anything but reliable. But she was much more skilled with a staff than the blaster on her hip. And, besides, if she was right about what her target was, the blaster would make a disgusting and dangerous mess.

"Come on. Come on. Stay with me,” Blithe whispered encouragement to the weapon. Then, pausing for only a moment to check for signs she had been detected, she stepped quickly around the crate, electrostaff at the ready.

The source of the noise wasn't on the ground, where Blithe expected it to be. It had climbed halfway up the crate, stuck to it by its many sucker feet, a pair of which sprouted from each of its gelatinous body segments. Alerted to her presence now, it swung its carapaced, eyeless head toward her. Caustic saliva dripped from its mouth-parts as it loomed above Blithe, the drops narrowly missing her arm. The beast was a good two meters long and as thick as Blithe's thigh, with hooked, orange mandibles as long as a human hand. It chittered menacingly in her general direction before returning to munching on the crate's welded seams. 

"Oh, no you don't,” Blithe waved one of the staff’s electrified ends at it, trying to distract it from its meal without actually touching it. “Get the fierfek down from there!”  These creatures - they called them “raspers” for lack of an official name - could wear away solid durasteel remarkably quickly. But they also dropped off bits of themselves that melted into a noxious goo when injured. That was no fun to clean up.

"No, no, no, no,” she dodged as it waved its head toward her again, "Go that way. Don't make me hurt you, kark it.” She blocked its path, repeatedly, herding it toward the ground, all the while cursing and cajoling. While it could clearly sense the humming energy of the staff, Blithe didn't know if these critters could actually hear. Regardless, a bit of cussing was good for her morale. 

As it scrambled back up the metal wall of the crate, the creature's movement became increasingly erratic and Blithe imagined the rasper was getting as frustrated as she was with their game. With an abrupt lurch, it reared a third of it's body away from the crate and nailed the staff's glowing end with a glob of acid spit that sizzled on impact. Energy arced wildly from the power nodes as they failed, shorting the whole staff out.

"That's karked it!” Blithe shouted at the rasper, which tried again to ascend the crate now that the electric foe no longer threatened it, only to be blocked as Blithe clocked it on its armored head with the dead electrostaff. "E chu ta! I just got this fixed.” Blithe smacked it again, pulling each strike just enough to avoid actually injuring it. She really didn't want to be this close if it dropped one of its segments.

"Now,” she deflected a lunge from the rasper and shook it free as it tried to latch on to the weaving staff with its mandibles. "Move, you kriffing blob of bantha snot, with your too karking many legs!” 

Blithe swung the staff behind the beast as it curled back on itself, preparing to strike at her. Then, with a heave, she swept the weapon up and away from the crate with all of her strength, launching the rasper off the durasteel surface, toward the base of the cliff. A jolt of pain shot up her bad arm with the effort required to dislodge the creature, but Blithe felt a victorious rush as the suckers lost their purchase with a dozen wet pops.

The hindmost of the rasper's segments broke free with a squelch as it hit, splattering slime harmlessly on the rocks. Defeated, the creature skittered up the sheer cliff face, acidic brown goo dripping behind it.

"Ugh! So. Many. Legs.“ Blithe panted as she watched the rasper retreat to be certain it was actually leaving. 

A rapid, sharp clapping behind her made Blithe spin around, staff raised for another fight. Two armed rebels - a human man and a twi'lek female - stood between her and the cave's entrance, applauding her performance.

Biting off a final curse, Blithe stared them down and said through gritted teeth, “Couldn't be bothered to lend a hand?”

The twi'lek rebel gave Blithe’s back a companionable slap as Blithe stalked past her, inert staff over one shoulder. 

Her watch was over and her relief had arrived. 

Shit like this never happened back on Coruscant, she thought sourly, adjusting the breather mask again, pointlessly. Well, ok, it sometimes did, she allowed. But at least there, she knew Commander Echo had her back.