Reckless

The job was supposed to be quick and easy, but of course, it wasn’t.  It had been meant to be something of a training expertise for Corvan.  Get in, slot the guy, get out and get paid.  Alarm klaxons rang in Tronn’s ears, only muted by his buy’ce as he rappelled down the wall of the estate.  The building had been built on the side of a cliff with a sheer drop off into the jungle below.  Corvan was supposed to have met him here by now.  They had set their chronos to sync up and planned it out so that they would be making their exit at the same time.

Tronn had waited a good, long five minutes while he hung beneath the balcony of the speeder landing platform to see if Corvan would show up.  He had used up all his padding now.  The kid was on his own.  Not that Tronn believed he would be in too much trouble.  He had been raised by kriffing Death Watch and had an uncanny ability to stay alive despite getting himself into lethal situations.

Tronn bounced off the side of the duracrete, moving lower towards the jungle canopy below.  He’ll be fine.  Stop worrying.

An explosion that shook his molars made him look back up, gripping the line to keep himself from sliding further down.  Part of the estate had blown up, a red fireball where a wall had been moments before.  Tronn could see debris flying every which way.  He thought he saw a piece that looked suspiciously like a body come towards him. It was only as he saw the glint of blue on the chest that he knew what he was seeing, or rather whom.

The Mandalorian’s yell of alarm was lost in the explosions that followed as he watched the armored figure sail right past him and disappear beneath the treetops.  Tronn loosened the slack in his hands and followed swiftly, face tight beneath his helmet.  The fall was an uncontrolled one.  He might have been knocked out.

Branches and leaves clawed and scraped at Tronn’s dark beskar as he continued to descend, the wind whistling by while the explosions continued and the alarms grew louder in intensity.  He dropped down to the ground, unhooking the line from his blaster and holstering the weapon before striking out to see where Corvan had landed.  He still had his blaster in his grip.  He followed the sound of cracking branches to a denser part of the jungle.  

If it hadn’t been for the night vision he had his helmet on, he would have tripped right over his colleague.  Tronn crouched down beside the figure, immediately checking for vitals.  He felt something cold start seeping into his blood when he pressed his thumb to the kiffar’s wrist and felt nothing.  He checked the pulse in his neck too.  That cold feeling was growing stronger.

Tronn ripped off Corvan’s buy’ce.  It was hard to make out any change in skin tone at night, but his sensors were showing a lack of vitals.  Swearing, he folded his hands together and knelt closer, slamming his fist down on the kid’s chest.  He’d done this before countless times with other colleagues and other kids.  Some of them didn’t come back.  Others did.

“Don’t gar ash’amur bat ni, ad,” he grunted, hitting the chestplate repeatedly at an even rhythm.

The minutes ticked by slowly as he kept on hitting, sweat falling down from his cropped hairline and into his eyes while his mouth went as dry as the Dune Sea.

“Olaror bat, ad—“

Tronn rammed his folded hands down hard, swearing that he’d go right back up to the estate and slot every last survivor up there—

Corvan let out a gasp, his entire body giving a convulsive twitch.  Tronn withheld the fist he had been about to slam into the kid’s chest again.  The kiffar’s eyes rolled around as he seemed to be orienting himself before he focused on Tronn’s familiar buy’ce.

“Hey, what’s up?” he croaked.

Tronn could have screamed at him for being so kriffing stupid to get himself—momentarily—killed.  He wanted to shake him by his shoulders and lecture him about sticking to plans and checking in when he was supposed to to avoid situations like this.  Instead he gathered him up into his arms and treated the kid to a crushing hug.

“Shab, don’t scare me like that, ad’ika.”

He could hear Corvan still wheezing as his body was sliding back into its normal syncopations.  He didn’t hug him back but he didn’t blame him for that.  The kid had been nearly dead and was still stunned.  Tronn heard a snort by his head where Corvan was pressed close to his shoulder pauldron.

“Are you crying, Old Man?”

“Shut it.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum too, buir.”