SWTOR ficlet: A Leg Up
Dec. 3rd, 2018 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladykf
“I found it! Master? Maaaaster! Maaaaaaaaaaaster!”
“I heard you, Padawan.” Gen-ji'al assured him, adjusting his communications device. Balmorra wasn’t his favorite place, but certainly not the worst of them, either. “You have coordinates?”
“Yeah! It’s just left. Well, up and left…”
Gen-ji'al arched a brow, even though his padawan couldn’t see his face. “Zak, just-”
“Leeeeeeeeeeft! Go left, Master.”
“Zakku'an, give me the coordinates,” he requested, moving in the direction mentioned.
“It’s fiiiine, you’re almost there… closer! Closer, not more left. THAT WAY - yes, Master, almost… don’t let that droid see you, gods, do I need to come down there?” Zak huffed, and he could just picture the look on his face. “There! Up, up up up! Closer… cloooooser, that’s it… thaaaaaaaaat’s it… THERE!”
Thank the maker. Gen grabbed the part and hurried back to get the lift up to his padawan, giving him an unamused look as he applauded enthusiastically. “Just get us in so we can put it together.”
“Right! On it!” His padawan cheerfully bounded ahead, putting the parts into place quickly. “Here, gimme that… so, we’re making a droid, right?”
Gen-ji'al felt a terrible sense of foreboding. “That is what you’d said the mission detailed….”
“Well, yeah, I mean, I figured….”
They watched the machine finish reassembling the prototype, a click and whirr - and then weapons were brought online. “ANNIHILATION MODE: ACTIVE.”
“… frak.”
“… and that is why we were late.”
Sahare eyed her brother, the small kolto patch by his eye and his hair entirely free for once, likely to help with the headache giving little lines around his eyes. It would be really, really rude to laugh.
She did anyway. He was her brother; he’d get over it. “Let me get you a drink… stars, you two are like something out of a holovid.”
