Wally: 327 + 433 = 667 Words
Adem: 2617 words

Tunca Tundra Region
40BBY

“Wrong. Try again.”

The voice that spoke was low and lilting, but carried no inflection or bite. Just a calm monotone that never seemed to raise any louder than it needed to.

“What do you expect us to do!?” the Tuncan hunter snapped back.

“You’re treating the targets like a regular beast. They do not think like beasts, so you need to adapt.”

The Tuncna’s expression showed exactly what he thought about being told he was doing something he’d trained his whole life to do. But Marick Tyris Arconae, Shadow Lord emeritus, didn’t seem to take offense. He had trained generations of assassins and agents and soldiers.

“I see. So you’ve prepared for the lure of their Siren Song? Are they equipped to handle their pack tactics and ability to share learned information?”

“Obviously!”

One of the combat instructors nearby moved a hand in front of his face to hide a smirk.

Marick was surrounded by three floating weapons. One was a spear, one was a set of vibroclaws, and another was a lightwhip. The Arcanist was using his telekinetic mastery to simulate the types of attacks different caxqette used.

The determined, rebellious young Tuncan, raised his blaster pistol in one hand and inverted the grip on his long knife.

“Come, then” Marick said as he folded his arms across his chest. Without any indication or movement, the weapons surged into motion and began to, in a coordinated fashion, started to attack the Tuncan from different angles. He sprinted, dodged, and fired at the telekinetic weapon attacks. He used the terrain well, accustomed to it. Until suddenly, a command forced its way into his mind.

Drop the knife.

The whisper appeared in the Tuncan hunter’s mind, and he found himself obeying. The weapon dropped, and the telekinetic vibroclaws cut into the Tuncan’s side. He hissed, and dropped to snowy ground beneath, blood staining the pristine white layer of powder.

“I’m not even good at Telepathy or Mind Tricks,” Marick explained casually. “But if a simple suggestion like that can force you to lower your guard...you need to listen to what I say about steeling your thoughts.”

The hunter grit his teeth. He knew that the outsider was right, but pride was a hard thing to swallow. Still, he rose, and took the offered medpac he was handed.

Marick nodded, but then turned his head, sensing a familiar, welcome presence. While he had missed the opportunity to truly mentor all he had hoped to, he was being given new chances every day to hopefully make up for that. Looks like he had arrived.

-=x=-

The LAAT/i transport shuddered slightly under the howling that swept across the ice fields. Adem Bol’era pressed his head to the bay door to feel the hum of the engines shift its cadence — they were landing shortly. The Umbaran Jedi took a short breath. The lander was crowded with 2nd Regiment troops, stuffed to capacity with soldiers and mixed emotions.

*Owh, kaaark, it’s gonna be cold.*
*Did I bring my thermos?*
*If I blow my tibanna canister out here, the quartermaster’s gonna leave me swimming in bacta for a month.*

All this noise made Adem second guess his decision to ride with the Dajorran Defense Force troops. At least it wasn’t a terribly long flight from Zainab, only about 50 klicks out from the city spaceport, but BD-99 insisted on an “authentic DDF experience” and the droid did ask nicely.

“*Fwoo?*” The droid excitedly shifted his feet on Adem’s shoulders.

“Almost there, buddy.” He petted the edge of the droid’s visor and looked to the imposingly tall droid standing next to him, slightly hunched to stay clear of the ceiling.

“Boss, if I may?” the droid queried in a slightly warped version of an Imperial accent, the kind many DDF soldiers had only heard their parents complain about.

“Something tells me you’re going to say something anyway, Huey. What’s on your mind?”

“You see, it’s just that if this ‘ganic pilot was flying any slower this would be an icebox, not a gunship. I think my servos are sticking.”

“You should probably stop using Imperial oil. Expired before I was born, stuff’s a hazard now,” Adem mused.

“They don’t make them like they used to,” the security droid said wistfully. “Perhaps a jacket is what I need.”

“A jacket?” The Umbaran considered for a moment. “Think they come in your size?”

“Somewhere, yes. Any good pilot has a flight jacket.”

“Noted, big guy.” Adem checked on his astromech, currently being petted on the photoreceptor by a rather nervous looking Mirialan DDF soldier. “Making friends, Kay?”

“Bwoo-oo, boo-woooooo,” BB-0K emitted soothing beeps.

“You’re afraid of flying?” Adem asked the soldier.

“I was in a transport crash when I was a kid,” the Mirialan man explained, “never really got over it. How’d the rollie know?”

“She just does,” Adem smiled warmly. “Look sharp, you’ll be on solid ground right about…” The LAAT/i shuddered slightly as it settled upon the snowy earth. “Now.”

The atmosphere of the transport became excited and frenetic as the 2nd Regiment arrived together, arranging the gunships in a circle around the Tuncan outpost. The troops wasted little time in spreading tarpaulins between the LAAT/i’s and the outpost to provide some relief from the howling wind. Solid ground was more like slushy earth as the gunships’ repulsors beat it into submission. A cool, steady presence lingered outside the camp, though it felt smaller than it should have been. The snowy Tuncan wind broke across the surface of a small structure in the distance.

“Hand me my scope, Nines?” The droid chirped affirmatively, handing Adem his electrobinoculars. The structure faintly shimmered under the snow, telltale of a stealth field that would have gone unnoticed, if not thought to be looked for.

*Marick.*

The Umbaran filled his lungs with chilled air and figured he was lucky he’d noticed the presence of the Encanis II and his mentor at all. He hadn’t seen much of him even since his return to the Voidbreaker and deploying as an Exarch, and Adem couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched even more carefully than usual. He and the droids followed the group of soldiers filing into the tent for their briefing.

“...ure is a highly adaptable and virulent threat to the Tuncan people and way of life,” a Selenian chieftain explained, the briefing had already commenced. Huey had a point, they *were* late. Adem sensed a tinge of apprehension coming from the chieftain as the DDF soldiers' numbers swelled around him. “The caxqette cares not for maintaining our ancestral hunting grounds nor ensuring its continued population. I am here to ensure that the forces of Clan Arcona understand what these monsters cannot,” The chieftain passed his bright aqua eyes over Adem’s group and narrowed them. “That includes timeliness, Jedi.”

“Let’s not waste more time on this formality, then,” a familiar voice cut in. Marick’s lean figure strode up to the holoprojector, not a step wasted. Without comment, he presented a series of images and footage of mangled creatures, most dead, and a handful arguably worse. Attention immediately diverted from Adem’s group back to the holoprojector’s grisly display. “What you’re looking at now areis autopsy holos of local fauna over the past ten days. Locals, tell us what’s wrong here.” A fairly young Selenian man stood up, closer to teenage than not.

“Your name?”

“Sunguvuk, sir,” the Selenian said excitedly. “Do you see the quills in this one?” Adem looked closely at the bristled shards sticking out of the herbivore’s throat. They looked deeply embedded, much further than something a tangle with a predator would do.

“You see, there is a predator on these planes we call the Unega,” Sunguvuk went on. “Very popular in children’s stories to keep them from sneaking around at night. Offworlders probably know them as… er…”

“Nexu?” Marick suggested.

“Yes! Thank you. Most Unega kills aren’t this bloody. They’re ambush predators, and typically they go for the neck.” He made a gesture round the back of his neck, making grasping motions and odd choking sounds for effect. “Normally you don’t see quills tangled up in their prey, maybe in another Unega in a dispute, they’re very solitary and territorial, you see-”

“Sunguvuk!” the Tuncan chief said sharply. “Get to the point.”

“Right! Right. Erm…” the Selenian grew flustered. “The only way the quills could get this deep is if they were injected by great force, and perhaps from multiple Unega. When something unnatural like this happens, a caxqette is likely to blame. The Unega is an apex predator; if we let this go unchecked, the entire tundra is likely to follow suit.”

“Which is why all of you are here,” Marick said with finality. He motioned for Sunguvuk to sit back down. “As you know, this is a joint operation and DDF forces are expected to act the part. As such, you’ll be operating in small groups, minimum of two. Local guides will be paired with scouts, larger teams will consist of search and destroy squads. The latter will sweep the tundra with overlapping comms range at all times. Scouts will probe the ice fields and caves, we need more actionable intelligence before we risk committing forces. You know your assignments, all teams will be departing in the next thirty minutes.” Marick looked to the Tuncan chief, who nodded affirmatively.

“My tribesmen, you know what is at stake. No less than your home and all you love,” he said, then cast his gaze over the Dajorran forces. “Our guests, I hope you value the trust we have placed in you. I pray you find our strength in yourselves, and our people learn much from the warriors who defend our world. For the troubled times ahead of us, we must grow together. Dismissed!”

The soldiers and Tuncan tribesmen filed out of the tent, grumbling about the cold and complaints about the weight of monitoring equipment abounding through the group. Marick remained. To Adem, his emotions were as inscrutable a mixture as ever, though at least there was that increasingly familiar aura of warmth that had grown in intensity as quickly as his family had.

“You know,” the Hapan began, “the Encanis II has room, we wouldn’t have minded flying you here.” Adem laughed a little while BD-99 simply raised a clamp of culpability. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Adem could see Marick eyeing the gauntlet on his left wrist, sensing his twinge of annoyance that it didn’t match the right side. “It’s just a… tinker project I’ve been sourcing the parts for, might come in handy.” The dull gray armor plating of the gauntlet had faint, silvery swirls throughout, just enough to catch a perceptive eye.

“Where’d the beskar come from?” Curiosity or concern could not be distinguished in Marick’s voice.

“Wyn dropped it off, he wouldn’t say more. That and I forgot to ask.”

“That’s a first for him,” Marick lightly snorted, letting the rest of the moment pass in silence. “Caxqettes are much worse than old droids and crime lords, you know.” Adem’s jaw twitched and his molars brushed together for a moment.

“If I don’t face them on my own terms here,” the Umbaran said calmly, “I won’t be ready if and when it’s not my choice to fight them, right?” His composed affect masked his desire to take a defensive tone, the act likely finding no purchase against his mentor’s keen perception.

“Thought you might say that,” Marick replied, a small smile curling one side of his mouth, just for a moment. “You’ve met your partner already, he’s just outside.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Afraid not,” the Exarch said, shrugging. “The tribal leadership needs me on hand to coordinate a response to the intel your teams gather.” Marick sensed the low hum of anxiety from Adem. “For your own sake, don’t look at this like it’s a test. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a match for these things. Just keep your guard up, and don’t let them get into your head.”
“Never liked the idea of being a seedbed for a genetic abomination anyway.” Adem turned and passed through the door of the tent.

“I’ll tell them to get some caf ready on the Encanis II for when you get back.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t bother, they’re going to insist.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

The Umbaran squinted as he passed out of the command tent, the sun harshly reflecting off the snow. He only noticed the young Selenian from before thanks to his warm, excited presence radiating all the more as he stepped outside.

“Hello!” he said, a little too loudly and a little too close to Adem’s ear. Nines shifted across Adem’s to perch on his shoulder and peer past his head.

“Hi, uh…” Adem collected himself, “Sunguvuk, right?”

“You remembered?!” The Selenian looked to be closer to a teenager in appearance and affect than not, and his gregarious behavior all but confirmed it. “Please, only my mother calls me that, my friends call me Sunny. Err, my offworld friends anyway.” How appropriate.

“Any idea where my partner for this exercise is, Sunny?”

“You’re looking at him!” Sunny made a small hop and his equipment rattled. “I’m something of a wildlife expert, you know.”

Adem and Nines exchanged glances. “Uh-huh.” At least he seemed nice enough; there was probably no harm in indulging Sunny’s excitement. “So which way, oh guide?”

“Bweep!” Nines hopped off Adem’s shoulder and projected the area map on the ground. Sunny awkwardly tried not to step on it. He pointed at the edge of a valley a few kilometers north.

“Do you see here, the way the earth folds and cracks at the foot of the mountain?” The Selenian spoke more comfortably with a reference point. “That is the Angat Valley. There is a series of caves beneath the ice fields, you see, and many mammals tend to rear their young there until they are old enough to hunt on their own.”

“Predators too?”

“Predators especially!”

“Lucky us, huh?” Adem said. The pithy comment didn’t seem to land. In fact, Sunguvuk looked a little wounded.

“I’m sorry,” the Selenian said defensively, “I don’t understand sarcasm very well, and I assumed Jedi might have a similar interest to mine, Unega social behavior is quite fascinating for me and-”

“Relax, Sunny, relax. I want to hear it, just pace yourself. It’s a long hike.”

“Yes, yes!” Sunguvuk brightened. He handed Adem a carabiner tied to the end of a cord he was also connected to. “A lifeline between the both of us. Helps keep us from losing each other when the snow gets bad.”

“Thanks.” As he fastened himself to the lifeline, the Umbaran’s eyes caught a dazzling glint of sunlight off the reflective durasteel of the carabiner.

“You are squinting quite a lot, mister Jedi. Do you have allergies?”

“If you consider light an allergy, maybe.”

“Oh!” The Selenian acted quickly, cutting a strip of thin cloth from the warm-looking scarf wrapped about his neck. He drew it taut between his thumbs and motioned towards Adem’s face. “Yes, Tunca snow has a harsh albedo, ah? I had a cousin who went snowblind, not a good time. Yes, yes, just over your eyes.” The cloth was surprisingly soft and smelled like trees, but far away...

A gift from grandmother, she spent a…

…no, the branch tore a hole in…

…your best, Sunguvuk, the soldiers will be watching…

“Are you okay, mister Jedi?” The cloth gently tightened around Adem’s eyes, chasing away his reverie. “Are you allergic to pashmina, too?”

“It’s fine, Sunny, thank you. I’ll bring goggles next time.”

“Very good idea! Off we go, I’ll lead the way!”

Adem tapped his comlink. “Huey, roll data retrieval. This is gonna be a long one.”

“Do try to keep all your fingers,” the droid answered, “and bring me back a pelt to wear or something, I can feel my ankle joints weeping for a heater.”

“Go bug Marick about it, Huey, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

-

Step by step, meter by meter, and story by story, the duo trudged along the tundra. The snowscape seemed as infinite as the void of space and nearly as silent, if it weren’t for the steady rhythm of boots in the snow and the howl of the wind over the mountains. Initially they’d had the company of other teams, which diminished as the group surged out of the camp and fanned out. For the last hour, Adem and Sunny had been completely alone, pushing into the valley to conduct the bulk of their survey.

“...so he’s pointing the cutter between his knees and behind him, right?” Adem says, recounting an incident from his days in the Umbaran doonium mines, between breaths of chilled air.

“The plasma cutter?” Sunny asked nervously. “Why would he do that?”

“S-like I said, show-off thought he knew what he was doing. So he’d modified the trigger to work on pull and release-”

“Oh, good heavens…”

“And this frakking moron lets go of the trigger while his leg’s in front of the cutter, right,” the Umbaran continued, chuckling a bit, “and it just *shears* his leg off at the hip!”

“Oh no, was he okay?” the Selenian asked, clearly disturbed but remaining polite.

“He basically went home in a bucket,” Adem went on, pulling back his laughter. BD-99 let out an exasperated warble. “What? The cutters we used weren’t that different from lightsabers, honestly, bet whatever prosthetic he’s got now even has some nerve endings left to hook up to.”

“Have you heard from him?”

“Nah, Dajorra’s not the kind of place people on Umbara would know, won’t be sending me any Life Day cards, that’s for sure.” Too late, he sensed Sunny’s discomfort with his story. “Sorry, people back home think that kind of thing is ah… well, funny.”

“Oh, I see,” Sunguvuk replied. “It was a little funny, it seems like he had it coming.”

“And how. Cutter’d show the caxqettes what for, that’s for sure.”

“I would sooner trust a Jedi, myself!” Sunny said cheerfully. “I’ve never seen a lightsaber, not up close.” Adem smiled at the Selenian’s eagerness to know more about his preferred topic, but tempered himself a bit.

“Problem is, seeing it would probably mean we’d be fighting a caxqette.”

“Ah, yes, not ideal,” the young guide trailed off, his gaze focusing in another direction. “See that?” He pointed towards a splash of color in the snow.

Adem

-=x=-

Marick checked his chrono. He was not one for pacing, and if there was any hint of concern or worry, it was not visible on his stoic visage. He did fidget, but that was normal. He busied himself with helping attend to the injured. As the years passed and his responsibilities had...shifted, he found himself falling more and more into the role of field medic. Perhaps it was a result of trying to spend as much time with Atyiru as possible, even though he knew she wasn’t...going away again. But he had been able to do so much good with his hands and his skills and his mind.

Wrap up the wound. Clean, sterilize. Funnel the Force. The Elder Arcanist could refill his reservoirs without consciously thinking about it at this point, so there was no risk to him over exerting himself. He shared his knowledge with anyone that asked. Another hunter challenged him, and he obliged and helped teach the methods he knew. If they couldn’t resist the siren call, then they could at least be aware of it. Carry a knife to cut your bicep, a quick stab to ‘snap’ yourself out of it.

He hasn’t checked in. Something is wrong. I can sense him faintly, but...no. I can’t go rushing in after him. He will never grow or overcome his own challenges. But if he needs protection...no. I am best utilized here. I need to trust him.

He wanted to pretend that making decisions like this had become easier over time. That his experience and patience and knowledge made it more black and white.

But that would not be the truth, and so he worried, in his own way, as he attended to the injured and used a mixture of the Force and regular medicine to treat them.

And if something threatened their encampment? Well, the Caxqette’s or whoever was controlling them would have to answer to the Gray Fang.

(to be finished later for character canon, submitting here)