hot seat squad

Phew. Del felt that in his joints, knees already beginning to complain from his crouched position. He thought it’d add to the realism of their facade to let his pains manifest instead of using Imperial supplies to ignore them, though he was still on the fence about his commitment to it. “Good. Testing another one this close to the encampment seems like a bad idea.” Most of this seemed like a bad idea. Any reservations were kept to himself; it wasn’t his place to question any facet of this mission.

                   is the                            blood on your hands                    dry? is it slowly                            disappearing?

               mine isn’t.

Gideon had already crouched down to scoop Del’s arm back into his hands, choking back a grunt with the exertion of lifting another man to his feet. At least his friend was short his armor; although was in and of itself a concern. Where had that armor, and all of its tech, ended up? 

His own helmet worked to protect his lungs from the smoke and collapsed rubble, but he knew he had to expedite getting Meeko somewhere safe. Safer, at least. Distant groans only compounded the implied danger; people were still alive somewhere in that back hallway. 

Del’s legs were simply refusing to support his weight, and Gideon was left with a quick decision. “Hold on,” Was the only warning Meeko got before he was ungracefully hefted over shoulder. 

Oof. He’d be regretting this tomorrow, but there was an objective that needed to be accomplished, and he was going to see it through. Gideon was able to ignore the pulled muscle as he focused on carefully navigating the debris; and then once outside, not tripping down the steep terrain. 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight of the small enclave and tucked into a culvert along the canyon walls that he stopped, sliding Del off of his shoulder with considerable care. Between the planet’s climate and the stress of the situation, Hask felt like he was going to melt in his suit. One hand moved to the chin of the helmet, flipping the small catch that released the seal before pulling it off to reveal his flushed face. 

“You still with me?” 

He braced, but the air still left his lungs with a dry wheeze as he collided with Gideon’s shoulder. Getting oxygen back after that, with smoke and dust and tiny bits of separatist lingering in the air, was a challenge, but Del had enough time to gather himself while Gideon made his way outside.

With the situation mostly defused, Del’s ability to ignore the pain lessened bit by bit. For all that he was grateful for the lift -- he could never have walked, or even crawled, out of there himself --every point of contact with Hask’s body felt like murder, every jostle a prayer for a dunk in the bacta tank aboard the Corvus.

Not for the first time, he thought he might be getting a little old for this sort of work anymore.

It was easier to take breaths once outside. The surface was a barren warzone, but a welcome sight after being held prisoner for what had to have been days, judging by how much the landscape had changed. The Empire had decimated this planet, as promised.

Gideon propped him up with such gentleness, Del knew he had to look like shit as much as he felt it.  “More or less. Not... one of my more successful moments.” The small amount of pride he held had been wounded: pride in his work, or even his ability to convince people not to beat the stuffing out of him with metal pipes. Quietly, he added, “Thank you. I didn’t expect a rescue.”

“… that ‘bacta tank is half full’ attitude of yours? It’s good… It’s really good.” She shakes her head playfully. “Which is exactly why I’m not buying it into it. You’re not fooling me, Meeko, we all know you’re secretly a cynic at heart.” Iden feigns a pout.

“Don’t you dare change.”