Unpredictable Trajectory

Running had never been Joy Arlette's best skill but right now it was her best option. Everything went absolutely wrong. What was supposed to be a simple historical sightseeing trip turned out to be a death trap — and Joy just activated it. Now a bunch of ancient clankers pursued her with relentless tenacity. Joy tried to reason with them, to explain that she was a lawful civilian of the Galactic Empire, to apologise for an unauthorised intrusion… Unfortunately, all her attempts were futile — these droids seemed to be quite responsible with their duties. So she ran. Her sprint didn't last long, though. Joy bumped into something — or, rather, someone. The collision was followed by the immediate and loud fall on the dusty floor. If droids lost her, after all that noise they knew exactly where she was. “Kriff,” Joy cursed through her teeth. She found herself sitting on a man. His body was protected by battered plastoid armour and his face was hidden by the helmet. All she could see were a pair of brown eyes beneath yellowish goggles. “And who are you, pretty?” “Tech,” the man replied after a short delay, his voice distorted by his helmet. “Your conclusion regarding my aesthetic parameters lacks observational data.” “Really,” Joy was still disoriented after the chase and the collapse. After another moment of silence, Tech piped up, “Your current sitting position is suboptimal.” Joy wasn't sure what ‘suboptimal’ meant in common Basic but she picked up on his discontent. “This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been on my way,” she grumbled. The best defence was a good offence, after all. “Your trajectory was erratic,” he countered. “A more predictable course would have allowed me to take evasive measures.” This man definitely had a unique style of phrasing. Joy started to assume that he could be a droid too. “If my trajectory had been predictable for you, it would've been predictable for them too,” Joy retorted. Tech suddenly grabbed her shoulders and rolled them over, pressing her beneath him. It could be hot if not a blaster bolt struck the spot they'd been lying a heartbeat ago, leaving an angry black welt on the floor. Oh, that was close… If Tech wanted to ask who ‘they’ were, there was no need now. He sprung to his feet, pulled out a pair of blasters and opened fire. It was clear now that a peaceful solution wasn't an option, so Joy followed her unexpected ally’s example. Tech turned to her and his eyes dropped to a blaster muzzle, pointed at his direction. Before he was able to analyse this situation, Joy pressed the trigger. The shot whizzed mere millimetres from Tech’s helmet and hit an enemy right in the eye. Such an accuracy was unforeseen but undeniably pleasant. He nodded reservedly and with gratitude (or it was just Joy's imagination) as they continued fighting back against the droid guards. Tech, apparently, didn't need any assistance but Joy wasn't the type to stay idle. There weren’t actually as many droids as it had seemed in the rush. Besides, they were so old that they were crumbling to dust after just a single shot. Considering Tech’s obvious mastery in aggressive negotiations, it was no surprise that a few minutes, countless blaster bolts and one electromagnetic grenade later, Joy and Tech stood side by side, surrounded by incapacitated clankers. Some of them still twitched their limbs spasmodically but they weren't going anywhere soon for sure. Joy wondered what kind of fine there was for destroying guards of the historical sightseeing. Her thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of a few new faces — helmets, more precisely. Judging by the style of their armour, they and Tech belonged to the same team. Behind them Joy spotted a white-haired girl. A child? Here? With them? What a remarkable company they were! Another remarkable thing about them was their blasters — and the girl’s energy bow — pointed at Joy. She raised her hands, ready to surrender. “Hey, you had all the fun here!” one of the newcomers, tall and broad-shouldered, kicked the droid’s remnants. Battles weren't typically Joy’s idea of fun but the big guy sounded disappointed by the fact that all the enemies were already defeated. “I would rather call it stimulating,” Tech replied, holstering his blasters. A sensible idea. Mentally, Joy shook his hand in agreement. “However,” he added, adjusting his goggles with his index finger, “I prefer being stimulated by less energetic activities. Reading technical files, for instance.” Whatever. “And you're no fun,” the big guy ughed. “The definition of fun is subjective, Wrecker. And-” Joy was tired of being the bantha in the room. She coughed, drawing everybody's attention. “And you are..?” another one of them asked cautiously. “Joy,” she introduced herself, not sure how much of her personal information they expected to hear. “I can only assume, but, apparently, she was the one who activated an ancient defence system,” if said in a slightly different tone, it might have sounded as an accusation, but Tech stated it like a simple fact. So the droids actually were a part of the temple? Great; fines for vandalism were even bigger. “And her shooting skills are above average,” he delivered another observation. Blasters, which already started to lower, were pointed at her again. It was time to speak up, Joy decided, “Guys, I’m just a pilot. A civilian pilot.” “A civilian pilot with a blaster?” the third of them asked — at first, Joy mistook him for a droid because of his scomp link arm, but the way he moved and spoke revealed his supposedly humanoid nature. “Come on, even kids have blasters nowadays,” she glanced at the girl. “And I have all the licenses! You can find them on my datapad. It’s in my hip pack.” One of them — most likely the leader — nodded. Tech, the closest to her, moved towards Joy and pulled out her datapad. “The password-” she started, but Tech interrupted her with dry, “Unnecessary.” “Not just pretty but smart too, huh?” Joy smirked. “You have a tendency to value judgements instead of objective statements,” he didn’t even look up from the datapad screen. “Tech, stop flirting and make yourself useful,” the leader became impatient. The girl chuckled. “Your presumption is not valid. Flirting is-” “Tech!!!” now it was a choric exclamation. If not for the blasters, Joy could consider this situation funny. Tech glared at them with annoyance of a superior mind but said nothing and resumed examining Joy's datapad. Several minutes of awkward silence passed, and finally the verdict was issued: “I am positively impressed. Joy Arlette is indeed a licensed pilot. There is also the blaster license, the license for owning GX1 Short Hauler, the license for individual enterprise in cargo delivery, the official Imperial chain code…” “You have a license for everything?” the half-droid was amazed. Because of the helmet, however, Joy wasn't sure if it was a good sign or it just added a few more points of doubt to her score. “I’m a lawful civilian,” she confirmed. “...and seventeen tickets for excessive speed,” Tech was relentless. “Well, almost lawful,” Joy shrugged. The leader finally lowered his blaster. Others followed his example. Joy took a more natural, relaxed pose and stretched her stiff shoulders. “Really? You believe me? Just like that?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. The leader gave the impression of either a prudent or paranoid man — which, as far as Joy was concerned, amounted to the same thing. “And what if my documents are fake?” “You can pull a fast one on Tech but not on Hunter's intuition,” the girl noted, smiling. “I must protest-” But nobody listened to Tech. The girl stepped forward and extended her hand to Joy. “I’m Omega,” the girl introduced herself. “You already know Tech, and this is Hunter,” she nodded towards the leader, “Echo,” pointed at the half-droid, “and Wrecker.” The big guy waved to her. Their names sounded more like nicknames. Joy shook Omega’s hand, “Nice to meet you… whoever you are.” She reached out to take her datapad from Tech but he was in no hurry to give it back. Alright, let him play… “So, what is a… colourful company like yours doing in these ruins?” Joy asked. “And you, an ‘almost lawful’ civilian?” Echo mirrored her question. There was still some suspicion in him. She couldn't blame him. They probably saw her as a random woman with a blaster who almost literally fell on them from nowhere. “I crashed,” Joy, though, had nothing to hide. “No luck in repairing my ship, so I sent a distress signal, and decided to go sightseeing to blow the cobwebs away and kill some time. Last time I checked, there was nothing criminal about sightseeing.” She made another attempt to retrieve her datapad. Zero success. “Damn you. What are you reading here with such scrutiny?” “Your Commendation for Humanitarian Service during the Clone Wars,” Tech replied with disarming honesty. “You were in the war?” Wrecker's surprise was loud and palpable despite his helmet. “I thought only clones took action there.” “Actually,” Tech raised his index finger, “there were some volunteer forces. They mostly participate in evacuations, transportations of the wounded and dead, and supply deliveries.” Joy's new acquaintances exchanged glances. There was something about this commendation but she couldn't grasp what exactly. Were those glances a bad sign? Or was it something personal? “Is something wrong?” she asked cautiously. Might they be separatists? The war officially ended but there was still tension and distrust between people in the Galaxy. Not everyone accepted the defeat and the rise of the Empire. They glanced at each other again and after a brief hesitation Hunter took his helmet off. Echo and Wrecker did the same. Hunter’s face seemed vaguely familiar to her — perhaps they’d crossed paths before? But she would never have forgotten a man with such a striking feature — a tattoo covering half his face. But if she looked past his face paint… “You're a clone!” Joy finally realised. “We all are,” Echo corrected her. She looked closer and recognised the truth of his words. Echo’s features were much paler and sharper but with due attention it was possible to identify his clone origin. “And what's up with you, big guy?” Joy leaned towards Wrecker. “You don't look like a standard version. An exercising and protein enthusiast?” He laughed good-naturedly at her question, “Ha! I’m enhanced!” there was genuine pride in his voice. “We were a part of the experimental batch,” Tech explained, giving her datapad back. Unlike the others, he still had his helmet on. “Do you ever take your helmet off?” Joy asked. “Affirmative,” Tech replied but, obviously, he didn't take a hint. She rolled her eyes. Omega let out another chuckle, reminding of herself — the strangest member of this squad. Joy bent forward. “And you, little one? Don't tell me you're a clone too!” That was supposed to be an innocent joke but Hunter placed a hand on the girl's shoulder in a protective gesture before she could say anything. “She is with us,” he said firmly, discouraging any objections. “That's all you need to know.” “Got it. None of my business,” Joy backed. She was still curious but knew better than arguing with an experienced soldier. “You still didn't tell me what you were doing here, though. Or is it a great secret too?” “We are on a mission,” Omega blurted out, depriving Hunter of the opportunity to beat about the bush. “In search of some statue.” “Actually,” Tech just couldn't stay aside, “it's an idol of a pre-republic Nu’hu civilization. It is made of aurodium and inlaid with rainbow gems. The earliest reference…” But Joy turned a deaf ear to the lecture, more interested in the currency value of the relic. Aurodium was invaluable in itself but rainbow gems increased the cost by a fortune or two! She gave clones a side-long glance. Could they truly appreciate what they were dealing with? She couldn't help but daydream a bit, imagining life on easy street. The huge mansion, exquisite food, the fanciest clothes, and a bunch of servants, fulfilling her every whim… Maddeningly boring. “...religious architecture lacked symmetry as well as sharp and smooth forms due to the Nu'huian concept of divine powers, which rejected the idea of them having specific forms. The same goes to the art of sculpture. That's why all of their idols differ from one another, and for a modern person, they might look unpretentious…” Joy unexpectedly found herself listening to Tech's discourse closely — after all, she had originally come here for sightseeing. His descriptions matched what she had seen — bumpy and raspy walls, weird-shaped columns, asymmetrical halls… And what she took for a piece of rubble, must have been a sculpture. Wait a minute… “Does your idol look like a mud lump with eyes?” All eyes turned to Joy. “You've seen it? Where?” Echo inquired. Not just saw but actually interacted with it — and now she began to suspect why droids attacked her; guess, to kick an ancient sacred idol wasn't a good idea, eventually. “How about this — I will show you the way and you will help me with my ship? Win-win,” Joy offered a deal, looking at clones expectantly. Hopefully, they’d accept it — there wasn't a heavy traffic in this part of the Galaxy, so she could wait for a response to her distress signal until old age; and she wasn't really eager to spend her youth on this wasteland. Everybody looked at Hunter, awaiting for his decision. So Joy was right in her initial assumption — he was the boss here. “You have a deal,” Hunter nodded. “Lead the way.” “Great!” Joy brightened and turned to the passage from whence she came. She waved her hand, inviting them to follow her. “Come on — fun is waiting for you there!” She winked at Wrecker. “You don't want to miss it.”