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| - "Alright, here we go. This is going to be a lot of wait and hurry up from here on. Get ready for it..." A pair of tattooed hands stretch out and ball into fists repeatedly as Drax loosens them up for the tricky maneuver he is about to attempt. One begins hovering over the control panel while the other rests on the hyperdrive's control lever and his two emerald eyes lose themselves in the expanse of hyperspace. Was he ready to go back there? Was he prepared for all of this? The pilot's answer for himself is the same one any being that trained him or led him had given, "Shut up and just do it." The stars come to a screeching halt in the sky as Drax shoves the hyperspace lever into an off position. Just as the black of space fills the cockpit windows the form of a planet shoots into view along with a large circling belt of debris. Just as things are coming to a sudden halt, he slaps another hand down to trigger the maneuvering jets for one hard pulse before cutting all power on the vessel. Now lifeless, the nimble craft drifts at a reasonable velocity towards the planet of Guritsan, slowly gaining speed as the invisible tendrils of the planet's gravity take hold of the vessel. "We're on autopilot..." Sort of. The mottled starscape of blue and white light envelopes the shift, filling the cockpit's viewport and Jessalyn's vision as she sits strapped securely in the navigator's seat behind Rendolen. As placid an expression as she can manage is on her face, though wariness and a healthy dose of trepidation are visible as well, and she keeps her hands lightly on the armrests of her chair as she braces for the switch to normal space. Her pupils dilate as the bright light swirls into pinpoints of far away stars, and she gazes down at the devastated world of Guritsan, the Force reminding her without her bidding just how many billions of sentients perished when the _Dark Eminence_ crashed into the planet not all that many years ago. "Sort of?" she echoes Drax, staring at the back of his head. "Didn't you say you crashed here last time?" "You've done this before, right?" Paul asks, his voice a little shaky. That's only because the ride is so rough, yes? Yes, of course. As promised, the Corellian has all of his equipment and needs packed in a large pack to be carried upon his back, his radioactive suit already donned. His head turns, hazel eyes narrowing as Jessalyn's words carry over to him and Paul asks in a slightly higher voice, "What? Crashed? Ummmm, hope you like to learn from past mistakes, right?" A shot was fired and Drax wasn't about to take it lying down. The Alderaanian's head spins around as he gives Jessalyn a dismissive look, "I did not /crash/. I /ditched/. There's a big difference. One involves death." Turning back around, the pilot visually checks their course as the planet starts to consume more and more of the real estate on the viewport. "I'd love to see either of you manage to walk away from a TIE fighter that only has one solar panel after having the wastelands of Guritsan as your only possible landing spot." Bringing both hands together, he cracks his knuckles and then slaps a level on the side of his chair to allow it to lean far back to make himself quite comfortable. "Just hold it together. I've made this entry before. It's going to look pretty crazy when things start heating up, but it's all show. Really." Little did the intelligence agent's passengers know that the punch line to his hidden joke was about to slap them all right in the face. "Plus, I did great in the sims for this entry when I had a crack at it a few days ago..." Frowning at this reply, Jessalyn doesn't much like their chances if they're forced to "ditch" this time, too, and she glowers at him when Drax turns around to look at her. She snorts softly, "Let's not try it and say we did." She can't help but lean forward for a better look now that the planet's curved edge begins to fill the viewport, something tickling in the back of her mind. But Jessalyn stills it and puts her trust in Drax's abilities, at least for the moment. It's not like she has much choice. She fiddles with the zipper of her own radiation suit she'd put on over her clothes and casts a glance over at Paul, sensing his nervousness. "He did great in the sims, Paul. Nothing to worry about," she says dryly. "Bitch, bitch, bitch, ever since the bantha ate the baby, say, I got a radical idea here, how about you do what you do best apparently and get us down in one piece and then, when I'm drunk enough not to care, you can brag all you want about how amazing you are and fantastic you are and how you can juggle three ships in one hand, okay?" Paul's hands are digging into the arm rests of his seat as he visually double checks his harness to make sure that its fastened securely. "I'd like to see you take on Darth Malign with a lightsaber and knock him down a bottomless pit too ... we all got something Drax. Show us, don't tell us, what you got." Looking ahead out the viewport, Drax lets a grin start to form as he hears the rather intense stress being exuded by the good doctor. "Now now, kids. Let's all behave. Things are about to get interesting..." Already, the ride has begun to get rather turbulent as the ship starts entering the atmosphere. As they get farther and farther along and the air gets denser the ship starts to rock in place. As the coating on the outside of the ship heats up, it suddenly catches fire, turning the vessel into a giant fireball hurtling towards the ground. Inside the ship, the air starts to grow hotter as the heat from the friction of the air against the hull radiates inside. Drax's hands are now firmly gripping the control yoke as he prepares to power the ship back up. "Okay, we can power up in just a few minute..." Jessalyn grins over at Paul, glad for the amusing distraction for the moment, even if it's only an indicator of his current state of nerves. But as the ship starts to shake and it feels like Jessa's bones are rattling, her grin is replaced with another frown and she sinks back into the seat, watching the fiery display through the viewport and swallowing hard as sweat starts to bead across her forehead and, more uncomfortably, beneath the radiation seat. She shields her eyes with her hand as it grows brighter and brighter and grits her teeth, waiting for something to go wrong. Snorting, Paul retorts, "Heh! I've been in a burning fire ball of death before! I scoff at death! I laugh in the face of danger. Ha, ha!" Course he jumps a little with the outside of the ship bursts into flame and growls in annoyance. "You're one of those hot shot pilots, right? The kind that can't resist showing off? Well, don't put yourself through any special effort on our account." The Corellian is less nervous any the other two think he is, but the snarky commentary is just a natural part of his nature. Heriditary, one could say. "Believe me, this ain't showing off. Showing off is doing barrel rolls at full throttle. Right now, we need to enter with no power signature and need to hold it as long as possible. It's a gamble to get as close as we can before powering hope. Hopefully, it's not too soon that we get picked up and not too late that we're the bug hitting the windscreen." Some say that the best way to cheer yourself up is to cheer others up around you. Drax had always found that the same was true when it came to fear. This time, however, the memories of the last time this had happened were too strong for him. It was the memory of the time when he only had a few moments to truly deal with his own mortality and say good bye to his loved ones. Was he feeling lucky? Could he cheat death one more time when two other lives were on the line? It was time to find out. Feeling that they had gone far enough, Drax starts to power the ship back up, his eyes flicking between the status readout of the ship and he view of flames ahead of them. A siren sounds and red lights begin to flash on the board, "Uh. We may have an issue here. Jessalyn, I'm going to need some help here. The maneuvering is dead and I can't figure out why. Any chance you're still any good with a spanner?" The pilot turns around with a worried look on his face. Flicking a worried glance over Drax's shoulder as the status lights start to come back on, Jessa is already reaching for the buckle of her harness, though the bouncing of the ship makes it somewhat difficult to unfasten it. She stands up, bracing her hands on the back of the pilot's chair to keep her balance as she scans the readouts and tries to assess what could be the problem. "I'll do my best," she offers, frowning and glancing over at Paul. "Don't let him crash while I'm gone," she says, darting out of the cockpit and snagging a toolkit before heading to the back of the ship and a panel in the engineering bay. She pries off the panel and opens the toolkit, spilling a few tools in her haste to find the right one. Reaching inside, she barks out a cry as a spray of sparks flies in her face, pulling her hand back and muttering under her breath, "I think I've found the problem." The Corellian rolls his eyes a little and continues to hold on the rough and buffeting ride. When the alarms go off, however, Paul's first comment is, "See? I was right? This is it - no more double trouble for us. One one parental unit at risk at any given time!" He is relieved, however, that Jessalyn was a mechanic long before she was a Jedi ... and a damn good one. "She kicks ass, uses the Force, /and/ can wield a hydrospanner better than a lightsaber!" At her comment to him, Paul lifts an eyebrow and notes, "I don't think I'll be able to stop him, but I'll give it my best ..." Unbuckling himself as well, Paul makes his way into the co-pilot seat. He's not as good a pilot as Drax, but he knows his way around a cockpit, and two pair of hands might just be better than one. "Great! Now fix it! And don't scratch anything while you're back there..." Drax breathes in deeply as his fingers wiggle about nervously waiting for the Jedi mechanic to execute the repairs in the back. "Hurry up and get up to shut this guy up!" He looks off to the side to shoot a look over at Paul and then sees him sitting in the copilot's chair. "Oh no... Oh no." The look on Drax's face alone is enough to warn the doctor to be exceedingly careful with his precious baby. The Alderaanian feels panic set in as he stares out the viewport again and sees the ground growing more and more detailed ahead of them. It didn't matter if they landed, this planet was a hell that would chew them all up and spit them out. This was only the beginning. He knew that all of his plans were destined to fail miserably and it would take an enormous sacrifice to pull it all together. What in the galaxy did he even have left to give up anymore? "How we doin' back there?" Sure, he had thrust, but without maneuverability to go with it, he would only be sending them even faster into the wastelands to form a new crater there. "Just the... reversers been de-polarized," Jessa mumbles to herself, wishing she had an astromech with her to help with the repairs or at least hand her the right tool. The shaking of the ship makes her toolkit rattle on the floor and start to slide away, and she uses the Force to bring it back to her, keeping it in place between her knees as she kneels down and sticks her head into the access panel. More sparks fly, but she ignores them this time. She can sense panic that isn't hers, and works as quickly as she can, ignoring any scorching sensations and repairing a wire coupling that's been turned to slag. "Try now!" she hollers toward the general direction of the cockpit, crossing her fingers that she hasn't lost her touch. The Corellian is not such a fool to touch anything, he simply puts himself in the right place should Drax need his assistance. He gives the pilot a vicious glare at his complaint and then sits back and holds on, trying to remember again why he is here in the first place when he obviously has nothing to contribute? This was all going to be over rather quickly and it was going to take more precision than Drax could probably muster up all on his own. With a hint of panic in his expression, Drax looks numerous times between Paul and the view out front for what seems like an eternity while waiting for Jessalyn to report in. He was going to have to put his truest love on the line by placing it partially in the hands of this man. "What the hell are you doing? Get your hands on the controls, dammit. When she gives the go, we're going to pull back on the yoke as hard as we can and ease in the throttle as we do. Keep your eyes on the sensors while we do this and I'll keep my eyes on the terrain. Call out if you pick up a patrol in the distance so we can avoid it." As the voice of the female Jedi crackles to life over the ships comms, he sets to work at giving the controls a shot with one hand, hoping Paul is helping to make up for the fact that his other hand is managing the throttle. "Come on, baby... you've got this..." Feeling it as the ship's maneuvering systems kick back in and the whole vessel gives a quick shudder, Jessalyn knows she's done all she can do and rolls out of the hatchway, hastily gathering the scattered tools back into the metal case, closing it and tossing it into a locker before making her way back into the cockpit. She braces her hands on the bulkhead for support along the route, but the shaking doesn't seem nearly as bad as it was moments ago. "You got it?" she asks peering at the viewport and gulping at the sight of the planet's surface looming so close to their flaming ship. She staggers into the seat behind the co-pilot's, touching Paul's shoulder with a reassuring grip as the Corellian and the Alderaanian strive to take back control of the ship. "Well make up your mind!" Paul snaps back. "One minute it's no, then it's yes, you're worse than a virgin on a date!" The Corellian's hands reach out to take up the controls, his eyes on Drax's as he matches the pilot's motions, synching up with him. And when Jessa calls out and the ship shudders and steadies, he pulls back as instructed, his eyes flickering over to the sensors, narrowing against the shaking field of vision as he tries to register whether or not there are any ships that they should be worried about. So far, the coast looks clear. Drax does his best to pull the nose up, increasing the thrust from the engines only once the angle seems to be correct. As the engines kick in, the shuddering of the ship seems to die down as her course becomes more controlled and less determined by the atmosphere itself. "Well, I haven't shot Dr. Nighman yet, so I think we're in good shape." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he goes right back to simply looking determined while paying careful attention the course they were taking as compared to the selected landing location. As they near the spot, the Alderaanian banks the ship to the side and circles around, cautiously guiding the smoking vessel into an opening in the broken husk of an old apartment complex. Repulsorlifts kick on momentarily as the ship swivels around while hovering over the ground so that she points back towards the exit and then carefully sets down. Again, Drax cuts the power to all systems and then drops back in his chair and lets relief wash over himself for a moment. "So who wants to do that again?" The wasteland of Guritsan was one of the harshest and most desolate places in the galaxy. Even the frozen planet of Hoth couldn't compare since it at least had a breathable atmosphere. A thick layer of clouds hovers overhead, blocking out the light of the sun with a perpetual thunderstorm which lacked any rainfall. The lightning was a double edged sword, casting a bright light upon the landscape every so often, yet ruining one's adaptation to the low light levels and preventing the use of night vision equipment. Broken buildings, crumbled statues, bent signposts, and torn roads were barely recognizable landmarks of the civilization that once flourished on this crucial planet. This being his second time on the planet, Drax had come prepared. He wears a ruggedized set of light armor designed for black ops missions into areas with this sort of environment, which features a gray color for urban operations and fully enclosed breathing, optics, and environmental systems. The suit was primarily designed to be light and flexible, with sparing bits of armor in the most necessary spots, allowing the wearer to have completely free movement. Various slings hold his two matte black IR-5 blaster pistols, Sharpshooter V blaster carbine, power packs, and a couple of grenades. Held snugly against his back was a reasonably sized backpack with a few other pieces of equipment necessary for the job. Drax's heart rate was going at the speed of an A-Wing at full throttle as he walks through the small city where the objective resides. A gloved hand stays on the hand of his carbine at all times, letting the weight of it rest entirely on the three-point tactical harness on his chest. Behind his goggles, he scans out over the terrain, looking for any movement in the distance. "Paul, can you check the map against our position? How much farther do we have to the objective?" Every so often, a flash of lightning brightens the sky and Jessalyn flinches at the thundercrack, feeling foolish for doing so, but this is place is just damn creepy. It's not as if this is a planet that has always been devoid of life, just another rock taking up its humble and lifeless place in the universe. No, this place was once alive, a civilization, a people, and something very evil had stripped all that away. Now this crumbling city is the only testament to the people who lived and died here. Jessalyn carries her own backpack and her lightsaber and not much else, and she glances over at Drax when his voice finally breaks the silence amongst the trio. She frowns, turning to walk backwards a few paces to watch their backs. "I dunno. I feel like... we may not be so alone here," she murmurs more to herself than to the others, her gaze flicking around behind the clear visor. They had been warned, oh boy were they warned, of the hardships that Guritsan would hold for them. But still the walk through the ravaged, torn, poisoned landscape is worse than any Paul has had to traverse through before. Mostly it is the suit which no matter how trim and close fitting still feels bulky and unwieldy in such environs. It makes every move, every effort, a dramatic one. His breath rasps behind his respirator, sounding much like a villain of old, like damaged somewhat by a fall he took earlier over an uneven patch of ground that gave way beneath his feet. But it's still working, and that's all that really matters. For the most part the Corellian keeps quiet and follows Rendolen's lead. It isn't until the NRI agent asks him for something that Paul finally speaks up, pausing for a moment and reaching into one of the many pockets in his outfit to pull out a map and directional. He twists from side to side before he nods slightly to the left of their current position and replies, "Looks like about another few minutes, 10 or 15, if everything we know is correct." His words are no slur on Drax's work, Paul just knows from his own line of work that one is predicted in such unpredictable conditions such as these often have to be given a little realistic leeway. He glances over at Jessalyn's comment uneasily, head lifting to study the dim, dismal landscape all around them. "That's good. We're making better time than I had hoped for. We caught a lucky break that our angle coming in let us land a little closer." Drax raises his left hand and checks the time on his wrist chronometer to verify his assessment. All this time he had been hoping that this trip wasn't going to be for nothing, the possibility of which had been raised by Paul. He had hoped that this would be their final stop and that this wasn't just another lead along the trail to these crystals. Jessalyn's comment draws his focus from one bad thought to an even worse one as he considers the words of the Jedi Master. Was there a predator out there that had managed to adapt to this environment? Perhaps a platoon of Imperial troopers inspecting the landscape to ensure it was secure? Had they been found out? The unknown was an enemy that Drax had never much enjoyed taking on. His betters had instructed him time and time again that it was always best to make a tactical retreat in the face of an unknown enemy. "While I normally wouldn't say this, I really hope you're off your game right now with that statement, Jessalyn. Anything that's alive out here ain't gonna be pretty." "Our greatest stroke of luck is that we survived that landing," the Jedi muses. She tries to extend her senses, to get a better idea of what it is that has her instincts blaring. Blowing out a nervous breath, Jessalyn nods her agreement, her eyes still scanning the torn road behind them, the empty gaping windows that stare out like black eyes. "I hope so, too," she sighs, turning around again and jogging over to keep up with the pace. "Or if something is out here, maybe it's not interested in us." She peers over Paul's shoulder at the map and frowns, peering between the landscape around them and its representation on the map. "There's something else." It becomes clearer as she focuses in her search for other life forms, but that's not what this is. "The crystals. They're imbued with the Force. I can... see them," she says, excitement trickling into her voice and she glances up at Paul as she squeezes his arm. The Corellian can't help but grimace. Ohhhh, he just had to say they were doing better than he hoped. That'll jinx it. But he says nothing, just hold steady, shifting the weight of the pack on his back about slightly, his equipment so tightly packed that the contents don't even shift within it. Paul hopes much as Drax does that this mission will be a quick one, that X does indeed mark the spot. He just isn't /pinning/ his hopes on that. There have been too many times when he has been in a similar situation to this, right on the verge of success, only to find that it is merely another crumb in an every continuing trail. Paul is well familiar with the sort of creatures, nightmares, that can be born in a place like this, mutated and desecrated and dangerous beyond expectations. He doesn't hesitate to draw his weapon, holding it at the ready as his eyes narrow and study all the possible hiding places around them. It may not be the twisted jungles of Mandalore, but is certainly as dangerous and there are still plenty of places to hide from prying eyes. Turning back to Jessalyn, Paul asks, "You can see them ... you mean hypothetically? Or you actually sense them ... right now??" "Oh please. I stuck that landing in a TIE with one solar panel and barely functioning ion engines. There was just a minor issue caused by the unusual heat levels from our particular method of entry this time around." The news from Jessalyn, on the other hand, sets Drax at ease and soothing his nerves. "That's fantastic news. I'm glad we didn't come all this way just to have to head someplace worse." Just about the only place that could be considered worse would be the spice mines of Kessel and there was no way in hell Drax would go back there again. Looking around, the Alderaanian starts to inspect the area ahead of them and finds that one particular structure keeps grabbing his attention. It was a building that seemed to have fared the destruction quite a bit better than those surrounding it. It was one unit on what used to be a storage facility where any number of beings could rent units to store various items. One unit had managed to stay intact and while it's normal sliding door had been blown away, the blast door behind it still stood. As he points ahead, the agent's voice crackles to life over his suit's built in com system to ask, "Call me crazy, but is that it up ahead?" Without waiting for an answer, his hand bucks forward to scoop up the handle to his blaster carbine while he picks up the pace. No sense waiting around for something to go wrong. Jessalyn's helmeted head dips a couple of times as she nods emphatically. "Yes, I sense them, right now," she says. "We're on the right track." She barely restrains a scowl as Drax speaks up again, rolling her shoulders with irritation. But then she notices the building that's attracted his attention, and she starts paying more attention. "Yeah," she concurs after a moment. "Yeah, that's it." Her lightsaber comes to Jessa's hand and she takes the lead, the crystals shining in her mind like a beacon against the dead cityscape. If there had been something else teasing her perceptions, alerting her to danger, it's now drowned out by the rippling energy projected by the crystals, their power calling to her, tingling down her spine. "Conveniently," Paul adds dryly, "you happened to have a worlds-class mechanic on board today, or things might not have ended so smoothly this time ..." No offense, but today's landing was not a one-man feat. The Corellian just barely avoids rolling his eyes, but that's only because he's using them to look for danger at the moment. Unlike Drax, Paul waits for Jessalyn's confirmation before moving forward. He stays to the back of the pair, providing cover as it were, making sure that no one, or thing, is following them as Jessalyn leads the way with her sight. And though it is precious new to him, Paul takes a moment to reach into himself as well before extending outward with his new found ability to wield the Force, trying his best to use it to heighten his senses, to bring him into a greater awareness of what might be lurking about them as they move toward their goal. "We're rolling sixes all the way today, there's no doubt about it. Let's try and make the best of it while we're still in lady luck's favor." As Drax approaches the building, he switches his optics to infrared for a brief moment to look around for visitors or energy sources and then switches back to the unfiltered view. His eyes closely examine the front of the storage unit, taking careful note of the control panel for the door that seems to have short circuited long ago. A flash of lightning illuminates the area in white light and at that very instant, Drax sees the form of Darth Malign standing in front of the door, mouthing the word "Mine" as the lightning pulsates for an extra second or two before dying. A knot forms in his chest and a cold chill runs down his spine as the vision fades, leaving a bewildered Drax standing still a good ten feet away from the building. Breathing heavily to calm himself down, he wills himself to takes a few more steps towards the building. Did he know they were here? Was his luck about to change? It didn't matter what he had to do, but Drax Rendolen was not going to be trapped on this forsaken hellhole again. The emotion in his voice hidden by the com unit, Drax speaks up, "Jessalyn, you think you could slice this thing open? I don't think it's going to open." "See?" Jessalyn can't help but point out as she glances over her shoulder, preening as she reaches the door and leans one hip against it, "aren't you glad I came along?" She might have been about to stick out her tongue, too, but Drax's sudden distress makes her pause and frown. "Sure... you all right? Just stand back." Jessa motions with one thick-gloved hand for them to back up. To her credit, she does at least try the doorpad, in case by some miracle it is unlocked and functioning. It's always silly to use a saber when it's not really necessary. But Drax's prediction turns out to be correct, and her lightsaber comes to life with a snap-hiss of blue-green light. With practiced care, she dips the tip of the blade into the gap between the door and the closing mechanism. A few sparks fly, and the blast door whisks open, revealing an empty dark nothingness. But within that darkness she can sense the crystals thrumming through the Force, even more strongly than before. "Do you feel them, too?" she asks over her shoulder, her green gaze seeking out Paul's even as she takes a first few tentative steps into the storage building, her lightsaber held aloft to prove some illumination for her passing. Sweet Maker! Paul actually winces as Drax keeps praising their luck and good fortune, his frame tensing slightly as he just waits for the proverbial axe to fall and cut their heads of ... or for appropriate irony for him, his hands. He stands back a bit from the rest, positioning his frame such that he can see what Drax and Jessalyn are doing and watch the space around them, frowning slightly. His hazel eyes flicker over Drax for a moment before flickering away again at the hesitation from the overly-confident agent. He watches, illuminated for a moment by the ocean water light of Jessalyn's saber, watching as she cuts open the door, his eyes lifting to hers as she asks him her question. His head tilts to one side as he concentrates, a very slight smile touching his lips, barely visible behind his mask as he nods. "I ... I think so ..." While Jessalyn works at the door, Drax's thumb drops to the safety of his weapon and flicks it off. He points the barrel dead ahead and into the blackness of the storage facility with an attached flashlight illuminating the area in front of him. The barrel flicks rolls from side to side as he walks cautiously inside and then focuses his attention on the remains of a crude turbolift, the doors of which now hung open to reveal an empty shaft. "Looks like we're going down..." Cautiously, the agent approaches the opening and uses his gun-mounted flashlight to check the depth. "Doesn't look more than a few floors." Dropping his gun to be held up entirely by the harness, he moves forward and after dropping to the ground, sets his feet on the emergency access ladder in the shaft. Rung by ring, the Alderaanian starts to make his way to the bottom, where he takes up a position with his carbine now back in his hands and his light scanning around the room. Inside, he sees that part of the ceiling has come down in the middle, covering whatever may have been there. "Paul, you've got some of those snazzy tools with you, right?" The hum of her lightsaber is a reassuring sound in the darkness, and she regrets having to extinguish it to follow Drax down the ladder. She hesitates as she hooks the weapon back to her belt, glancing back at Paul, her face illuminated within the helmet's casing. Jessa can't help but smile in response as he feels the crystals' power, too, and she waits for him before she starts down after Rendolen. When it becomes apparent that their path is blocked, she eases over to the side of the ladder and clings to the edge, leaving room for Paul to pass by. "How bad is it?" she asks Drax. "That's why I'm here, right?" Paul returns drolly, shifting his shoulders which bear the weight of his equipment. He glances into the darkness and follows on through, ready to do his part in this venture, moving carefully through the severely damaged structure, his eyes wary as he looks for any pitfalls or weakened points in their path. His eyes meet Jessalyn's for a moment longer, his smile crooked but there before he shifts his weapon back to it's holster and makes his way down the ladder after Drax. Once on the floor he waits, scanning the area before asking bemusedly, "Is it ... are they here?" While he can just slightly sense the crystals with his newly born powers, he cannot get a directional on the sensation at all. The hum of her lightsaber is a reassuring sound in the darkness, and she regrets having to extinguish it to follow Drax down the ladder. She hesitates as she hooks the weapon back to her belt, glancing back at Paul, her face illuminated within the helmet's casing. Jessa can't help but smile in response as he feels the crystals' power, too, and she waits for him before she starts down after Rendolen. When it becomes apparent that their path is blocked, she eases over to the side of the ladder and clings to the edge, leaving room for Paul to pass by. "How bad is it?" she asks Drax. "That's why I'm here, right?" Paul returns drolly, shifting his shoulders which bear the weight of his equipment. He glances into the darkness and follows on through, ready to do his part in this venture, moving carefully through the severely damaged structure, his eyes wary as he looks for any pitfalls or weakened points in their path. His eyes meet Jessalyn's for a moment longer, his smile crooked but there before he shifts his weapon back to it's holster and makes his way down the ladder after Drax. Once on the floor he waits, scanning the area before asking bemusedly, "Is it ... are they here?" While he can just slightly sense the crystals with his newly born powers, he cannot get a directional on the sensation at all. The room ahead was originally a large, barren room with a concrete floor and metal bulkheads on the walls. Four thick columns bear the load of the ceiling, each one spaced out evenly from the others. What had once been a pristine and sterile room has now been spoiled by several small cave-ins, which leave piles of concrete and dried clay in mounds strewn about the room, the largest of which exists in the center and measures half of the previous height of the room. As Drax examines the room, he considers the situation, "It could be worse. I think at this point things are stable." As Paul asks the question regarding the position of the crystals, the agent fights the urge to look over at him while answering, "You tell me. You two are the ones who are feeling these suckers out. I'm just arranging transportation. You have anything that can scan these mounds to find it? Or can mysticism tell us the answers?" With Paul at the bottom of the ladder, Drax pushes forward into the room, moving to the right side and keeping his weapon focused to the other side while he keeps his back to the wall. "It looks clear in here." Jessalyn gives the NRI operative a bland look. "He was asking me, hotshot," she says, stepping away from the ladder and following Drax into the room. The crystals have an immense amount of power, Jessalyn can feel that even now, their presence blocking out almost every other ripple that stirs the Force here in such close proximity. She steps over the fallen debris, shining a light over the columns, the ceiling, and then settling on a mound of fallen concrete and dried mud. As Jessa extends her hand toward the mound, she can feel the hairs stand up along her arm, even beneath the protective suit, and she licks her lips nervously. "Here," she says, pressing her gloved palm against the lower left quadrant of the fallen debris. She glances back over her shoulder toward Paul and nods briskly, her voice tinny through the helmet's speaker. "They're here. Maybe... a meter or more deep?" The Corellian lifts his eyes upward, studying the structure from an archaeologist's perspective .... is this a tomb on the verge of collapse? His expression suggests that he doesn't trust their location quite as much as Drax does. Paul snorts as Drax pompously assumes that he was talking to him and doesn't even respond, since Jessalyn does so for him, his attention shifting to the Jedi Master. Shifting the pack off of his back, the scientist carefully lowers it to the ground before crouching down, efficiently and quickly removing the contents thereof. Craning his head over his shoulder as Jessalyn indicates where he should dig, he quietly but firmly notes, "Alright, you guys let me do the digging on this. If they're not in some sort of protective case, we don't want to accidentally smash them while trying to recover them." Pulling on a special pair of gloves over his protective ones, Paul slowly and carefully starts to remove the debris. Special mini repulsors spread along the fingertips and palms allow him to move objects that would normally be rather heavy and difficult with relative ease. "Just make sure the ceiling doesn't fall down on top of me. I'd rather not get buried alive ... again." "My bad. Carry on." Drax reaches the back wall and begins circling around and moving towards the middle of the room. He steals a moment to look at the mound indicated by Jessalyn and lets his gun drop down on its harness as he takes on a more relaxed stance than his previous. As the two discuss the possibilities of the crystals, he simply nods his head and offers a quick "You got it, doc." Taking slow steps in the direction of the door, the Alderaanian looks up and around the room. Pulling an arm in, he then leans to one side and lets his backpack swing around and then down to the ground. Reaching inside, he pulls out a few glowsticks and rolls them into various places. "The faster the better. This place gives me the willies." Paul's experienced comment about this facility's unstable structure makes Jessalyn lift her head again, shining her light at the places where the pillars meet the ceiling, looking for any cracks or movement while the scientist empties the contents of his pack. A thick layer of dust covers everything in the room, though a good amount of it has taken to the air again thanks to the scuffing of their boots on the floor. "Need some light?" she offers, swinging the flashlight back around as Paul starts to lift away chunks of debris, and she leans in closer to watch, oblivious to Drax's movements around the room, though appreciating the additional illumination as he turns on a few glowsticks. "Patience is the first virtue of a Jedi," Jessa notes with a grin for Paul, while Drax mutters his displeasure. "But maybe not when the ceiling is going to collapse on us. You think it's gonna stay put as long as we don't cause a ruckus?" "Mmmmm," Paul returns distractedly, "tell me about it. I just want to find the rocks, pack them up, and then pack out." As Jessalyn offers to shine a little more light on the situation, Paul once again grunts in appreciation, the lights attached to either side of his head not quite sufficient to the task. His head lifts to study the ceiling again before he grunts and notes, "Probably. I'm grateful we don't need to do much more digging than this. I think so long as nothing or no one shows up to shake things up before we make good our escape, we should be alright. But you never know. Our weight alone could potentially set off a reaction or be just enough to make a weak spot give way ..." As such, the Corellian works carefully rather than quickly, just to be safe. But after a few more minutes of carefully digging, something not rubble appears. "Hold on ... think se got something ..." "Personally, I'm hoping that since this place has lasted as long as it did, through what it has, that it's reasonably stable at this point." Drax continues meandering around the room, now turning around and leaning against one of the pillars with his back to the wall. His head perks up as he hears the report of possible success, hoping to catch a glimpse of these crystals that they had all been hoping to find. The faint sound of a rustle whispers out from the direction of the turbolift, now drawing the NRI agent's attention. Drax pushes off of the pillar and starts walking around the far side of it, taking the long way towards the entrance and exit. Just as he is coming around the corner, three twisted figures lance out into the room at surprising speed, each one letting out a high pitched scream that could peel paint off the walls, if there was any. Each one was a lean with sinewy muscles quite apparent through their dark skin. While they look very much like mutated humanoids, they move on all fours, their long nails scratching at the floor as they move about, darting from side to side as they each select a target. The former commando's reflexes kick in as he raises his carbine and snaps off a few quick shots, walking them along the trail of one of the beasts as it enters the room. Though her nerves are on edge at the thought of the whole place coming down on top of them, Jessalyn is soon too enthralled with watching Paul at work to worry about it overly much, holding the flashlight over her shoulder and directed into the hole he's carefully carving out of the debris. She leans in as he seems to have found something, but that whispering noise also gets the Jedi's attention. Her ears suddenly alert, she straightens back up and peers into the dimness as Drax moves off to investigate. "Be right back," she murmurs, setting the flashlight down next to Paul and edging away from him toward the wall -- until she catches sight of the creatures as they dart into the room. She watches them for just a split second as they seem to to decide where to strike first, and so she draws her lightsaber and ignites in a swift movement, giving a hoarse battle cry in an effort to draw the creatures' collective attention. Drax's laser bolts, the ones that don't strike a moving target, collide with the wall near her and she scowls as a fair amount of dust and debris comes clattering down around her, and she charges the center of the chamber with her lightsaber whirling. "No shooting!" she yells at Rendolen. "Cover Paul!" The Corellian is more focused on the work before him than the sounds of possible approaching hostiles. But of course one doesn't have to be listening too hard to hear the screams that these three let out. Spinning around Paul places his back against the rubble that he was displacing, hands reaching for his blaster,cursing loudly when the repulsor field interferes with his ability to draw his weapon. Jerking off the glove his hand drops to his hip, scrambling for the weapon and jerking it free. Maker knows if he's in time or not to protect himself. "No shooting??" Sadly Paul is willing to risk building collapse before he's willing to risk evisceration, his weapon held out before him as he tries to find a target he can actually hit that isn't Jessalyn or Drax. "Yeah, I'll just sing them a song," Drax grunts into his com unit as he holds back from firing for a moment and shuffles swiftly over towards the mound where Paul had been working just seconds ago. Reaching the mound, the agent crouches down next to Paul and starts to try and track the creatures as they run madly around the room, occasionally darting in towards a particular individual and zipping past. "Paul, one of us is going to dig that crystal out and one of us is going to cover the other." As one of the creatures looks to be heading straight for the pair, he directs his carbine towards it and snaps off a controlled shot towards it, causing it to dart to the side at the last second. "I don't think my gun works well as a shovel, though." The light from Jessalyn's blade seems to draw the attention of the pack of creatures as more often than not, they appear to make advances towards her. Each pass is a little closer, each one testing her reactions and observing the results. Finally, one of them makes a zigzag path towards her and commits to leaping at her, its claws outstretched and mouth opening to let out another loud scream which echoes inside of the enclosed space. While she has the attention of two of the creatures, Jessalyn circles slowly, keeping them fixed on her lightsaber, and she frowns as the third goes after Drax and Paul, letting it go for now, and hoping Drax's aim improves. One of the mutants makes a lunge, finally, coming too close to the deadly blade, and with an ear-ringing screech one of those slender, clawed limbs drops to the floor as she carves neatly through its arm. Howling in pain, it falls over, enraging the second creature who darts first to an adjacent wall, springing from that vantage point toward its prey. But the Jedi is prepared, and after she sinks a booted foot onto the spine of the fallen mutant, she springs nimbly upward, meeting the leaping creature in mid-air and slicing off its head in a bright arc of blue-green fire. Landing lightly, she crouches as she waits to see if the first maimed mutant is finding its second wind, the gruesome visage of her victim tumbling at her feet. Yet all at once the third mutant, veering away from Drax's shot, makes a sudden leap, landing on Jessalyn's back with claws extended, and sending them both rolling across the floor in a blur of flailing limbs and humming lightsaber. The Corellian actually laughs as Drax tells him how this situation is going to go down but he doesn't obey right off the bat, asking first, "You really think that is a good idea? I mean there is three of them, there are three of us, so that makes us kinda evenly matched since they are, y'know, crazy, mutated, zombie death monsters that probably want to eat our livers and our eyes, not necessarily in that order." There's a horrible scream as Jessalyn gets one of them, or at least wounds one of them. Blinking Paul amends, "Okay, two to three. But maybe I should just keep shooting to be safe?" And with that one of those ... things, darts over to the side and Paul takes a shot at it ... and misses. He does not, however, miss the pillar that it darts behind and the ceiling shakes a bit as the bolt strikes, the floor above them creaking ominously. "Or maybe not ...." And with that, and without another moment of hesitation he passes his weapon over to the agent and turns around, redonning his glove and digging faster and harder. "Oh, we'll kill them, but I don't want to stick around and wait for their friends and family to show up." As Drax's last few shots miss the mutation headed straight for them, he curses aloud as it lunges at Jessalyn and begins to brawl with her. His mind races as he plays out the various scenarios in his head, the greatest risk being weighed is that tearing the Jedi's suit would expose her to the harsh environment. It wasn't going to be pretty, but there was only one way to deal with this. Dropping his gun and letting it hang on his chest, he tugs a stun grenade off his belt and removed the pin from the trigger, letting it land near where Paul is busy digging away. The seasoned black ops shooter holds the grenade, letting part of the timer run down before he tosses the device towards the cluster of Jedi/mutant. Half a second after it lands near the mass of beings an explosion is heard as blue sparks shoot out in all directions, wrapping themselves around and coursing through each of the beings that are unfortunate enough to get caught in their reach. Grappling with the creature, Jessalyn rolls several meters over the floor as she struggles to get control of the fight, distantly aware of a cool sensation on her back where the suit's been ripped, a thin line of blood beading along the cut. As they roll once more, the creature ending up on top of her this time, she draws back a knee and thrusts it into the mutant's crouch, not much caring about fair fight rules at this point. As it howls in agony and reels back, though, the stun grenade comes rolling into their midst, and the next thing she can see is a flash of brilliant white light as her ears fill with the sound of an explosion and everything goes dark. Brilliant blue energy coruscates for a moment over her limp body as well as those of the mutants, and then they are all completely still. Friends and family ... sounds like a holonet deal. Friends and family are free with just three easy payments! Ahhhh, if only it were that easy. "Yeah, I'm voting no on the human barbeque," Paul concurs as he seems to have uncovered a smashed piece of furniture, pieces of that jerked out and tossed aside for what looks like a most promising fancy box glittering amidst the dirt and dust. "Besides, I didn't bring any sauce with me ..." It's a good thing that his back is turned when Jessalyn gets jumped, or the Corellian wouldn't be able to focus on what he was doing. He does look down with trepidation when he espies that grenade, but there is a breath of relief as it proves to be a stun one, not a concussive one, his hands digging faster and harder and decidedly less carefully now. After all the crystals won't do either him or Drax any good if they don't extract them while still alive. Reaching in, Paul shifts the gloves off as he tugs the box free. He doesn't hear anything after the stun blast, so quickly he opens the metal box to get a look at what is inside of it. Opening it up, his voice is audible on the comlinks as he takes in a shocked breath, holding it for a moment. Three crystals lie upon a bed of black velvet, and even as new to the Force as he is, Paul can feel the power of them rolling over him, the small aches and pains that he had been experiencing fading away either in comparison or in reaction. They glow like a banked fire, shifting and sparking inside from a deep red to a bright orange, licking like flames. Each crystal is about the size of a human male's finger in length and circumference and it's clear that the box was designed especially for their protection, as their unharmed condition proves. Snapping the lid shut, Paul twists in place and notes tersely, "Okay, crystals acquired, I'm guessing bad guys eliminated, now we go?" His head lifts then, eyes narrowing as he asks, "Wait ... where's Jessa?" As Paul works frantically at bringing up the crystals, Drax inspects the bodies on the other side to ensure that there is no movement and then walks around the mound, two emerald eyes focused intently on the work that is being done there. As the box is pulled up and opened, he feels his chest turn in on itself as he begins to ache. The Alderaanian feels as if he experiences a moment of mental clarity as he looks back and forth from the crystals to Jessalyn's crumpled form laying on the other side of the room, all the while his hand wraps itself around the handle of his carbine without his knowledge. The movement ceases as his gaze now rises to Paul, the bearer of the crystals as any emotion that may have existed on his features behind his mask drain from him. His barrel swings to point at the doctor's back and just as he starts to realize the situation, Drax pulls the trigger and sends a stun bolt flying at the archeologist, the blue haze of the bolt illuminating the lenses of his goggles as it flies from the barrel of his gun. A lifeless, inhuman voice crackles over the comms once more, "Nice work." The Corellian had spun around the box clutched to his chest as he starts looking for Jessalyn's form a bit frantically. And when he spots her, his gaze lifts to Drax for a moment before he asks incredulously, "What the hell are you doing? Did one of those cannibal humanoid underground demons hit you in the head or something?!" He heads over to Jessalyn's side, cursing darkly when he realizes that her suit has been torn open, asking, "Sweet maker ... she's exposed .... I think I have some patch material in my kit Drax, can you bring that over to ..." But he doesn't get another word out, his head turning toward the NRI agent right when he hears the blaster go off, his whole world lighting up for a moment before going completely black. The box tumbles from his arms and clatters over the floor as Paul collapses next to Jessalyn. As Paul slumps over and hits the ground next to Jessalyn, Drax watches with no visible reaction. Cautiously, he takes a few steps forward and aims his carbine down into the cluster of stunned beings, sending three rapid fire bursts of red blaster fire into each of the mutated residents of the planet. The Alderaanian takes a moment to breathe as he releases his gun and then takes a few steps back to open up his pack, pulling a medkit, several suit patches, and some emergency rations from his bag, which he then stacks next to the pair of stunned humans. "Look, I'd like to think you can hear me right now. Maybe you can and maybe you can't. I've had it both ways, myself..." As Drax talks, he continues to move, now taking hold of Paul's bag and tools and tossing it over into the turbolift shaft. "This isn't personal. This is just a part of my job." The agent moves back over to the pair and takes hold of Jessalyn's bag, taking out her rations and leaving them in the pile with the other supplies and then tossing it over into the turbolift shaft. "I'm facing very real, very ruthless opposition and I need to be just as ruthless to be able to stay alive and be successful. It's just the way things are. You don't survive by flinching or thinking twice. You don't survive by being nice. This isn't a forgiving job. I need these crystals to get closer to Malign so that I can end all of this sooner. I'll steal them back once they've served their purpose." Finally, Drax drops down next to Paul and picks up the box containing the crystals and slides it into his backpack, which he sets to strapping on and tugging at the straps to pull it in as tight as can be. "I don't think what someone does for a living reflects on who he is as a person." The agent was now moving towards the turbolift, himself and pauses at the door to look back. "I survived here for damn near a year, so don't think for a second that I feel bad for you right now. Enjoy a little taste of hell. You get used to it after a while." With nothing left to say, he steps backwards into the turbolift shaft and into the darkness to make his way up. Minutes after Drax has fled the scene a sudden explosion erupts at the very top of the shaft, sending debris down to fill the doorway and spill into the room. Dust and a few loose rocks fall from the ceiling as a slight tremor is felt down below. It's a shame she has to miss Drax's monologue, since Jessalyn could have added it to the long list of other villainous confessions she's heard over her lifetime. But she doesn't stir during his speech, nor when he ascends the turbolift. Only when the walls give a gentle quaver and she feels the distant explosion from above does she open her eyes, staring into the dusty darkness, her head hammering with pain each time her heart beats. Sitting up gingerly, she tries to get her bearings, seeing the dead mutants, and Paul next to her. "Drax?" she calls out a couple of times, since he's the only one unaccounted for. Clambering to her knees, she gives Paul's shoulder a rough shake, feeling a little frightened until she calms herself and senses that he's only unconscious, and not dead. She lets the Force gather around her and flow through her fingertips, willing him to awaken. Consciousness returns slowly and oh so uncomfortably, neither Paul's mind nor body ready to be present once again. His eyes flicker open and a low groan escapes his throat as he rolls over onto his side, his mind trying desperately to recall just where the hell they are and what the hell happened. It all comes back in a flash and with a gasp Paul lunges up and forward, his eyes seizing upon Jessalyn mere seconds before his hands do. "Jessa! Your suit, it's ripped!!" The rest filters in as well, but really it's just not that important ... not just yet." Frantically he starts looking around for his pack, which brings his gaze to the caved in section of the building, a dark oath escaping him. Strong hands grasp at her, and Jessalyn frowns at Paul from behind the protective visor of the radiation suit. She swallows hard, trying not to let his panic fuel her own and raps, "What? Are you all right? What happened?" She tries to glance over her shoulder to get a look at the back of her suit, remembering now that it had been ripped in the tussle with one of the mutants, but the helmet prevents her from doing so. Her green gaze follows his toward the turbolift -- or where it used to be. Seeing only a monstrous pile of rubble there now, her heart skips a beat and she glances nervously at Paul again. "Where is Drax?" she asks, dreading the answer as she gets to her feet shakily and goes over to what appears to be a pile of supplies left behind. Making a quick mental note of what's there -- and what notably isn't -- she fumbles around till she finds the package of suit patches and returns to Paul, her hands shaking as she holds it out to him. "Help me," she murmurs, turning her back and closing her eyes, trying to get a sense of how much radiation she's already been exposed to. Taking a long breath that echoes through the suit's breathing apparatus, she stills her racing thoughts, drawing on the Force to stop the poisoning in its tracks. Scowling at the pile of rations that has been pulled out, the missing packs, it doesn't take Paul long to realize the obvious. "We've been betrayed. Drax took you out the stun grenade and he shot me in the back and took the stones. Maker knows why or for what purpose, but the NRI agent has either been turned or was always a double." Paul's voice is dark and angry as he rummages through the stuff left behind for them, breathing a soft sigh of relief when Jessalyn finds and hands him one of the suit patches. Why did Drax take the packs in the first place?! It wasn't like they had anything of great value or that would give them a way to recapture Drax. Without realizing it, the Corellian has pretty much started muttering a litany of angry, guttural curses beneath his breath as he gets up and settles himself behind Jessalyn. "Hold still," he snaps irritably as he examines the tear in her suit. His fury with Drax, with Jessalyn, with himself ... and his fears for Jessalyn make anger the only way for him to focus and concentrate, to do what must be done. Screw all that meditation shit that Luke kept yammering on about. Right now anger is the only thing Paul can allow himself to feel. Bright, hot, warm, anger. "I don't suppose the back-shooting bastard left us anything helpful like, oh, radiation medicine? "I'm holding still," Jessalyn says as calmly as she can, resisting the urge to snap back at him as she feels Paul's anger. She finds herself worrying about it more than she normally would have, knowing what could happen if he acts on it. While he patches up her suit, she thinks about what's just happened, shaking her head slowly and tipping her head back to look up at the ceiling as she realizes for the first time she doesn't sense the crystals anymore. "He took the crystals... took them to Malign, I bet," she says wearily. "Gods, I'm such a fool. And he took your stuff because there was probably something in there that had a power pack." She holds out a hand, palm-down, and a medkit skids across the dusty floor towards her. She opens it up and searches its contents, holding up a vial and peering at the label. "As a matter of fact," she replies, "the back-shooting bastard did. There's a limited supply, but, hopefully we won't need more with the radiation suits." While Paul revels in his frustration and anger, she focuses on what has to happen if they're going to get out alive, though admittedly his vengeful curses are more than a little distracting. "That cave-in looks pretty bad. I don't know if we can dig our way out," she admits quietly. "Do we have anything that can be used as a... communications device?" Simmering quietly, Paul's hands work on the patch quietly and efficiently. He knows that his anger isn't helping matters, so he just keeps to himself for the moment, waiting for the rage to give way. Working on sealing the patch helps, giving the Corellian something important and crucial to attend to and focus on. Once he finishes, his hands rub over Jessalyn's back lightly, as if checking the seal,, but she can tell by the pressure, the way that he strokes, that the gesture is meant to be soothing and reassuring. "Okay ... all done. I don't think you've been exposed for very long." Hopefully it will be alright, is the words that are not spoken, but are clearly heard. Paul doesn't know, after all, that Jessalyn has the ability to purge herself of the radiation poisoning. When she hands him the vial, he sighs softly and prepares it, adding the fluid within to her respirator before sitting back for a moment and staring at the rubble blocking them in. "Well, I guess he's not a /complete/ bastard ... he left us food and medicine when he could have just as easily killed us." Rising up with a groan, Paul walks over to the rubble and sighs before noting, "Well, he didn't take my gloves ...." which fire up again with a soft hum. The Corellian doesn't waste time, but starts to use the repulsor field gloves to move the heavy rocks and debris out of the way. Like earlier, the gloves allow him to move objects that would normally be too heavy and difficult to move alone. But it's still going to take a long time to dig them out. "I have no idea ... look around while I dig?" Not missing the reassuring touch, Jessalyn manages a small smile and says, "Thank you, Paul," as he rises and goes to inspect the pile of debris blocking their escape. She stands up as well and starts to take a closer look around the room, stepping over the corpses of the mutants as she spies a dark alcove she hadn't noticed before. Grabbing one of the glowsticks, she presses forward, seeing a wall and what looks like a control panel of some sort. Brushing the dust off with her fingers, she studies the blank monitors and readouts, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "No power packs, except... well, for the ones in our life support systems, and the one in my..." She grins slowly and unfastens the saber from her belt, and happily finds a multitool left behind in her pocket. A moment later she's taken the thing apart and removed the power cell, and soon the control panel lights up with an array of red and green flashing lights. Jessa gives out a triumphant little cackle and glances over to where Paul's removing the first layer of rocks. But each time he pulls one free, more rubble comes tumbling down the tall shaft to take its place. It seems the entire shaft is filled with heavy chunks of concrete and thick boulders, the debris of Rendolen's explosion. "I can't figure out why he left us alive. Maybe really all he cared about was the crystals and he didn't mean us any harm, but... these suits only have two or three days of life in them. We're gonna have to work fast." "Well, I'm open to suggestions?" Paul offers, not really seeing that they have that many options. They have no explosives with which to blast their way out, though that would likely only get them buried in deeper anyways. Jessalyn could use her lightsaber to help hack the debris down to more manageable sizes, but it could still take them days, maybe even weeks, to dig themselves out. "If the bastard didn't mean us any harm, he wouldn't have sealed us in alive. A quick painless death is infinitely preferable to a long lingering one of suffocation, starvation, and/or radiation poisoning. Yeah, sure, he's allllll heart. Sadly the Corellian is sorely lacking in the technical skills department. There will be no brilliant patching together of circuits to create a communication device coming out of his bag of tricks. His head turns, astonished that she's managed to bring something in this hunk of junk back to life, asking a tad breathlessly, "Whatcha ya got there up your sleeve?" The flickering lights reflect off the clear shield of the visor's faceplate as Jessalyn inspects the display, looking for something she can rig, and she begins to tap at a console until a bright blue sphere appears in the center of a monitor, radiating outward like the pulse of a beacon. "I'll need more power if this is going to work," she says, more to herself than to Paul, chewing for a moment on her lower lip. A plan begins to form in her mind, though it's not one she particularly relishes, and as she turns slowly away from the alcove, she can feel sweat beading on her forehead with the fear of what she's considering. Jessa crosses the floor over toward Paul and puts her gloved hand on his shoulder. "You won't like this, but hear me out," she says. "I'm gonna need one of the power packs from the radiation suits to give the signal enough of a boost to get out of the system. We can use mine -- " She holds up her index finger, anticipating a swift denial -- "I can put myself into... a kind of hibernation where I won't really need more than a tenth of the air I normally would. And I won't need any food or water, so that will double your supply. It actually makes a lot of sense, if you think about it." Drawing back, Paul places his hands on his hips and shakes his head before sighing and turning, heading toward where Jessalyn is working. Stripping off the gloves he hands them over to her and notes, "These are pretty much useless I think. Go ahead and take their power units if it will help." He turns to around to start searching through the rubble for anything that might be of use, anything that might help them. Straightening as Jessalyn lays a hand on his shoulder he turns, frowning slightly. But when she makes her suggestion, the Corellian just stares at her. Oh yeah, he doesn't like this idea. Not the tiniest little bit. That anger is back once again, practically bubbling over but he doesn't protest. Yet. But it's only a question of time. "And this will be helpful ... how? We're on an Imperial planet. If you send a signal, all it will do is get us found by Imperials, who will in turn deliver us to the Emperor, who in turn will execute us both. No offense, but I'd rather die here and now than give /that/ bastard the satisfaction." "Yes, it will go to the Imperial authorities, but not to the ones here," Jessalyn says, taking a small step back from him and gulping in spite of herself. "I have the code to the Force Marshal's private channel. No one else will be able to listen in on it at all." She tries to smile despite Paul's anger making her wary. "Having a Padawan in the Empire does have its advantages, you know? Do you think I -want- to turn us over to the Emperor?" She turns away from him, not wanting to be the target of that anger when it comes boiling over, but it appears there's no one else around to take the brunt instead. Taking the gloves, she starts picking apart the power cells, going sullen and quiet as she works, her shoulders hunched over the console. Frowning, Paul counters, "The Force Marshal? Padawan in the Empire? What are you /talking/ about?" None of this means anything to the Corellian, since no one has seen fit to tell him of such complicated machinations, and why should they? Sounds like a need to know basis sort of thing, and he certainly is not one who needs to know. Of course the root emotion here is fear. Fear for Jessalyn. Fear for Sabine. Fear of sitting around, eating up food and oxygen alone, for Maker knows how long, with his lover lying on the ground in some sort of self-induced coma which maybe she can bring herself out of and maybe will keep her alive .... or maybe it won't. Maybe she'll just die. Maybe they both will ... but at least she won't be awake for it. "Look, you can't just remove your power cell from your suit. The suit circulates the oxygen and without any power it can't do that. You might only need a tenth of what you would normally, but a tenth of nothing is still nothing." Very quietly, Jessalyn explains, still huddled over the work at the console, popping out one of the disc-shaped power cells and holding it between her thumb and forefinger. "Ian Inrokana... you've met him, though he hasn't been around much of late. He's a double agent inside the Imperial High Command, and he's my apprentice. I didn't tell you before for obvious reasons, but... he's made it possible for me to get in contact with him through his encrypted channel." She starts typing something on a keyboard, composing her message to the Force Marshal as Paul points out the flaw in her plan. Pressing her lips thinly together, she gives a slight nod of her head. "All right, we'll have to hope this is enough then. Scratch around maybe and see if there's anything else around here that might have some serious juice." She turns around and finds the courage to face him again, touching his arm and damning the gloves and the suit that keep her from feeling the warmth of his skin. "It will be all right. Trust me." The name is familiar and with that her words start to fall into place, comprehension dawns, and while he still doesn't 'like' it, he at least understands her logic a little better. Paul has a hard time believing that she'll be able to send out a signal into Imperial space that only this one person will be able to receive and translate, but he says nothing, just shakes his head and starts digging around, trying to find anything that Jessalyn might find useful. He stops though as Jessalyn touches his arm, his hazel eyes meeting her green ones through the separation of glass, defeat already gleaming in the depths of his. "How is this going to be 'all right'? Even if by some miracle your double agent padawan gets this signal, even if he somehow finds us before the Imperials do, finds us before we run out of food and air, we still have lost the crystals and what's worse, we've lost them to forces unknown. Maybe Malign, maybe the Emperor, maybe some new player we don't even know about yet. We might survive this battle, but we have utterly lost it in the end, and there is nothing 'all right' about that." Just like with the artifact, Jessalyn had failed again, and his reminder cuts her keenly. Her green eyes grow watery but the tears don't fall as she returns his gaze. She'd come along merely because it was so important that this mission succeed, and yet she never saw the betrayal coming. "You're right... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I screwed up... again." Blinking back her tears, she turns away and curses as she feels them coursing a cold trail down her cheeks. Returning to the console, she finishes splicing in the power cell from the second glove, a tangle of wires coiling around her gloved hands as she works. The least she can do is make sure that he... that they both get out alive, but her heart sinks as she thinks of the months of research and planning into this mission that have now been wasted. Now it might be too late to reverse the effects of Malign's curse, and Jessa's shoulders shake with quiet sobs that she tries to keep muffled as she powers up the beacon array and sends the message off into space. In times past the waterworks have been the ticket to apologies, to breaking the Corellian's anger and making him feel regretful and guilty. But not this time. Jerking his arm away Paul snaps, "Oh don't! Just /don't/! You didn't fragging screw up, this isn't your fault, so don't make out like it was. Just stop spouting all that overly optimistic Jedi crap at me and be /real/. This is a fragged up situation and nothing short of a miracle is going to make it alright. so we just deal with the facts, face the music, and move on." Spinning around the Corellian kicks out at a piece of rubble that is sadly much heavier and harder than it looks. He then spends about a minute hopping around, cursing a blue streak before limping over and sitting down in a huff, not looking at Jessalyn, though he mutters over the comlink, "If there is something I can do to assist or at least be useful, let me know." Well, Jessalyn wasn't looking for an apology, but Paul's right that she's busy blaming herself. When he jerks away she scowls at him but goes back to work, taking a moment to attach the coordinates of their position to the message, her ears burning at his words and turning her tears from guilt-ridden to angry in ten seconds flat. She should have seen the betrayal coming, but she didn't. She shouldn't have trusted Rendolen, even if he had been Lahanna's friend. But she keeps her opinions to herself and grits her teeth. "Fine," she mutters into the comlink, though she winces as he starts swearing again and she glances over to catch him hobbling across the floor. "I'll try to be pessimistic," she adds to herself, not letting that particular line go over the channel. For a little while she sits and watches the readout on the array, worrying that the range isn't enough, praying there might actually be a response. But her luck in that regard has fallen short. "I alerted him about Rendolen," she says after a long while. "If Ian gets it, he'll pass the message on to the Temple." Drax has the confidence of a lot of people back home, and has the skills of an NRI operative and an intimate knowledge of the Temple's layout. And he also has Kiri's trust, which unnerves her most of all. Finally, she tears herself away from the control panel and shuffles toward where Paul is sitting. She drops unceremoniously to the floor, crossing her legs and leaning her elbows on her knees. She's not in the mood to increase his ire, so she simply keeps her mouth shut, a little pissed off that this is the way it appears they might be going out. And mad at each other, too. Life just isn't fair. They should probably be as still as possible. Save their strength and their oxygen. Without something to react to, to feed off of, Paul's anger has begun to fizzle and dissipate, leaving him with a uncomfortable lack of something to do. Arms crossed over his chest, he watches Jessalyn work and then watches her come back and sit. The silence goes on for a long while, the Corellian's thoughts turning and turning till he finally speaks up again. "Your idea ... it's not without merit. Show me what do - how to monitor the message, respond in the right frequency. Then you should do that thing where you drop into a coma-like state. Save your resources. At least one of us should if we can. It betters the chances." He doesn't have to say what for. Right now Paul is thinking of Sabine and Kiri. There's no guarantee that Ian will make it to them in time. But if Jessalyn can buy some time, use less of her suit's energy and resources, then maybe the children won't become orphans. It was the same reason she'd come up with the plan, so Jessalyn had expected him to see the logic of it once he got over being angry. But it doesn't make it any easier, and a lump forms in her throat that she has to fight back as she thinks of the children. "Okay," she chokes out, glancing toward the array from her spot on the floor. "I got it boosted as much as it's going to go without more power. If there's a response, you'll hear it. The alarm will blare... just flick on the response switch and it'll send out a beacon showing them where we are." Now that he's given her permission, though, Jessa dreads the thought of going into the Force-induced coma. What if she never woke up? What if she woke up only to find Paul dead and herself trapped here with no food or oxygen? She wishes he was adept enough for her to teach him the technique, but it's one that requires too much control and finesse, and if he attempted it, he could accidentally put himself into a coma he could -never- be brought out of. Her helmeted head bobs very slightly. "I'm going to give you the phrase that will wake me up," she says very quietly. "Try not to use it until absolutely necessary. I might not be able to pull this off twice." Paul doesn't know enough to realize that perhaps Jessalyn is overestimating her abilities ... and for as long as he is alive and conscious, he can monitor her life signs and make sure they remain stable and steady. He nods and replies, "I won't use it unless necessary." he's already made up his mind on how he will leave a message informing whoever finds them how to wake her up, in case he is past being able to do so himself. That way, if it comes to the worse, she'll literally die in her sleep, peaceful and unaware. Her breath sounds a bit hard and labored as she inhales very deeply, summoning up her courage as well as the Force, telling herself it's the right thing, the smart thing to do, and trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. She doesn't really want him to snap at her again. "Thanks," she says as she pats Paul's leg hesitantly, then she scoots about on the floor in an attempt to find a space where she can curl up out of the way. "If you have to use my suit... I won't blame you," she says after a moment, chancing a glance in Paul's direction. In the darkness his face is illuminated by the helmet's lighting, and she bites down on her lip to keep it from quivering. "When you want to wake me up, just say... -jhansri-." She starts to explain the word's meaning as 'fledgling falcon' in Corellian, but remembers with a chuckle who she's talking to and then amends, "It was kind of a nickname when I was little." By the expression on his face it's clear that Paul will never choose to take Jessalyn's suit, the very idea an affront to him, but he simply nods in response, his expression tightly controlled. This is the right thing for her to do, the smart thing, and knowing that it may well save her life is the only reason Paul is agreeing to the matter now. Because if she leaves the power cells in, her suit will be able to keep her alive long after Paul's fails. "Jhansri," he repeats once with a nod. "Got it." Rising up, Paul follows after Jessalyn and asks, "Is there anything I can do to assist you, or is it easier if I just get out of your face and let you concentrate?" Her expression softens when Paul follows her, and she shakes her head even though the expression on her face is pensive. "No... but..." The dim blue-white lighting just seems to pick up her exhaustion and the lines on her face that mark her worry, but Jessalyn smiles at him gently as she settles onto her side, resting her weight on one elbow, and then extending her gloved hand toward his. "I'll feel better if you're close by, though," she admits. Her other hand unconsciously clenches in a fist against her heart and she takes another deep breath as she fights off her fears. But her voice is tiny and far too young when she murmurs, "I don't want to die." Taking up Jessalyn's hand, Paul notes with quiet certainty, "You're not going to die. You're just going to go to sleep. Believe me, I would join you if I could." He squeezes her hand, resenting the gloves that separate them out of necessity. "You'll be just fine. A nice snooze and then you'll wake up to a cozy ship and tasty food and rescue-dom." Or never wake up at all. The Corellian is at even a greater risk of dying than Jessalyn, but he feels strangely calm about the idea. Lately death has felt like a close companion that comes for tea on occasion, forgetting the point of his visit and then leaving. It's probably not a good sign, to be so resigned to such a possibility, but it's easier for him to contemplate his own death than that of someone he loves. Which brings Paul to the other important thing he has to say. "I love you, Jessa." Just in case one of them, or both, don't make it out of this mess. Resting her head as comfortably as possible in the crook of her arm, Jessa does feel reassured by Paul's words and his presence, and she clings to his hand as he wraps his gloved fingers around her own. "You're not allowed to die on me, either," she points out huskily. "I mean it. Stay alive for me." Jessalyn doesn't want him to die, she would give herself in his place gladly and without regret if death came for him. It's too hard for her to say that now, though, so she lets him sense her thoughts through the Force, along with her feelings, the warm surge of her own affection and care. As she closes her eyes, she can feel the wet stain of her tears down her cheeks, but she smiles, gathering up a memory, a moment of sensory delight, and for a few, sweet lingering moments Paul experiences the very real and convincing sensation of being softly kissed. "I love you, too, Paul," she answers, tightening her fingers around his. This Force thing ... sometimes it's just a little too freaky. He can feel her thoughts, her feelings, and is terrified that she can sense his in turn - his doubts, his fears, his acceptance of his own death so long as she is safe. "Aye, aye, Captain," he returns softly instead, giving her a wan smile and a nod. He isn't going to do anything stupid after all. He'll hang on for as long as he can. He already has a few peculiar thoughts about how he might be able to manage that. The kiss however, makes paul jerk in surprise and blink, one hand lifting to his face before it hits the visor. Oh, right. Duh. He quirks the corner of his mouth and teases mildly, "Hey, that's cheating ..." Though she can sense that he is afraid and nervous, Jessalyn knows better than to go digging any deeper to discover the source of his doubts and fears. Those are his own to keep or share as he sees fit. She respects the boundaries he's put in place, but when she herself is afraid, it's harder to find the words and so she sometimes relies on the more intimate and instinctive Jedi mode of sharing. Perhaps one day he'll get used to it, if they get out of here. When he reacts to the kiss, she laughs quietly and shrugs. "Well, in moments of dire need, sometimes one has to cheat," she says gravely, her eyes dancing behind the visor. "Just be glad I'm not up to anything naughtier, or I might make you faint." She jokes with him, relaxing her weary frame in a slow and methodical manner, and even as she continues to talk, she starts preparing herself, drawing on the Force and meditating upon what it's going to take to gain control of her body enough to put into stasis. Paul might be able to feel the energy rushing around them as Jessalyn gathers it to herself, her eyes slipping shut. "Heh," he offers with a soft chuckle, "Promises, promises..." But he continues to hold Jessalyn's hand, keeping her company as she brings the Force in around her, his fledgling abilities sensing the power that bends about him like a fast moving stream, one part of his mind studying the sensation with curiosity and perhaps a touch of that awe that Jessalyn was looking for from Paul during her first attempt to teach him, the rest of his mind focused on her. But he says nothing more, not wishing to distract her further from what appears to be a difficult process. Eyes closed, one corner of her mouth tugs upward as he teases her back, and Jessa briefly considers all the little sensual tricks she might teach him -- no, she -will- teach him -- once they are safely home again. "Mmm. Hold on to those promises," she murmurs, her voice slurred and fading away on a breath. There are other things she'd like to tell him now, but she doesn't share those through the Force or any other means, perhaps because she is clinging to the belief that they're not going to perish. She still dwells for a moment on how she would have gladly spent the rest of her life at Paul's side, and how happy she would have been as his wife, allowing just that one pang of regret. But the demands of her meditation very soon melt away all her thoughts, filling them with nothing but awareness of her body's workings, and after a few moments her breathing and her pulse come to a distinct halt. There's a brief moment of pure panic as Jessa seems to just ... cease. Only a quick check of her suit's readout shows Paul that she is breathing, that her heart is beating ... just dangerously below normal levels thereof. He stares for a long time, his eyes shifting back and forth between her face and the read out before he finally lets her hand go very gently, as if the lack of pressure could wake her up again. Likewise he shifts away a bit oh so quietly and lies down as well. He's tired from the hike, he's tired from the digging, and he's tired and sore from being shot by Drax's blaster. As such, it isn't as hard as one might think for the Corellian to will himself to sleep. It won't do as much good as Jessalyn's 'nap', but it will lengthen the amount of time he has left a little and right now, every bit counts.
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