Fic: Jenna's War I: Screw Up (4/6)
Title: Jenna's War I: Screw Up
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: T, to be on the safe side
Genres: Gen, Action/Adventure
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... there were also people who were neither Jedi nor smugglers nor bounty hunters nor anything else as glamorous as that. Private Jenna Melara, infantry soldier for the Alliance, was one of them. Here's her story.
A/N: Fourth chapter... and the day just got even better. As in... worse. I do hope at least some people are reading it, though (because, you know, I can see you clicking on it *big sister).
( Screw Up 1/6 )
( Screw Up 2/6 )
( Screw Up 3/6 )
Four
I hear the faint cussing again. Seems a little inarticulate, but definitely angry. I guess I need to take the risk and see where this is all coming from. Drawing the small officer’s blaster my mother left me behind, I walk over to the other side of the box and climb out. For a moment, all I see are charred remains of At and Winters and a lot of debris lying around, but when I suddenly hear a rustling sound to my side, I whirl around, the blaster pointing to whatever is in front of me.
“Whoa, girlie, are we nervous today or what?” Tarkker. I should have known. And, by the look of it, he is relatively unscathed. Bastard.
“What are you doing here?” Okay. Dumbest question of the year.
“Enjoying the sunlight and the breeze with a drink in my hand. Holy shit, what do you think I’m doing here, huh?” I guess I deserved that. Besides from asking stupid questions, my blaster is still pointing at his head. I’d be pissed as well, if I was in his position.
I put the blaster down, and my wrist is thanking me. Adrenaline can be so irritating sometimes. “Did you get injured in the crash?”
He shrugs. “Not much, and it’s none of your business anyway.” Of course it is, mister.
“Yes, it is. Now, get to the other side of the box and tell Xanas I’m looking for a splint. And see that he stays awake. He lost some blood, and I don’t want him to go into shock.” Whoa, where did that come from? I actually sound like a soldier all of a sudden.
“Wait a minute, queenie… who put you in charge, huh?” Oh, so Tarkker obviously is not as thrilled at my new character trait as I am.
“We can discuss authority issues later. What I now need is a splint and someone to keep Xanas alive. That shouldn’t be too much, even for you.” Whoa. I guess surviving a crash like that and taking care of wounds like Xanas’ does something to a person. I’m not sure if I like this, though.
“Okay, listen up, you stupid bitch…”
“Is there… a problem… Tarkker?” Both of us snap around to look at a heavily panting Xanas leaning against the cockpit wall. On his forehead, sweat is glistening, and his face looks ashen. Dammit.
Without giving any more attention to Tarkker, I rush over to Xan. Draping his arm over my shoulder, I mutter, “That was a very stupid thing to do, Private. How do you expect me to haul your sorry ass back to the camp in one piece if you keep on ruining how I patched up everything?”
He says nothing, just grins a little slurred. Then, “Sorry… Mel. Just… can’t see a woman getting insulted.”
I huff. “I swear it, one day, Xanas Farrayn III., your chivalrous attitude will get you killed. Or at least severely hurt.” I lower him down to the ground, feeling the wrist protest all the while. I can feel him tensing up, and I can’t help tensing up as well. I really don’t want to hurt him anymore, regardless of what I liked to think at times before the whole ordeal.
“Yeah, if this here doesn’t kill me first.” I pause. I know he meant it as a joke, but I feel dread building up in my stomach. What if he really doesn’t survive this? Or anyone else of us? Or all of us? Gods, Melara, get a grip on yourself, for Heaven’s sake. Your mother would be ashamed of you.
Taking a deep breath, I frown at him and say, “Stop talking nonsense, mister, or I’ll have a closer look at your leg again. Now stay here while I deal with Tarkker, right.”
He looks up at me, smirking, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn around and return to Tarkker who’s still standing on the other side of the box an staring at me with a certain amount of malice in his eyes. Good grief, we’re all on the same side, remember? “So… you feel like being up to a little baby sitter duty while I take care of my little problem here? Or do you need any medical assistance?”
I swear it, the sneer was totally unintended. Just couldn’t help it. He gives me another dirty look. “Not of the kind of ‘medical assistance’ you Army women like to offer. But thank you for the offer anyway.” Bastard. Slimy, obnoxious, abhorrent bastard. There’s only one way to counter this: Totally ignore it.
“Fine. Go help Private Farrayn, and start getting settled. See if you can get a fire running, but make sure no one can see it.. I’ll see if there’s anything still useful lying around here in the meantime.” He snorts and lets his gaze wander over my body. Like he’s undressing me with his eyes or something. Good grief.
“I don’t see no higher-up who gave you a promotion of some sort around here. So you’re still the little screw-up with tits you were before we crashed.” I’m almost ashamed to admit it but I’m actually tempted to reach for my blaster and point it at his head again. Not set at stun. And certainly not in accident. Gritting my teeth, I will myself to take my hand back from the holster.
“Look, I’m not ordering you around.” Lying again to a comrade. And so blatantly. Shame on you, Melara. “All I’m saying is that Private Farrayn needs someone to look after him while I take care of my injuries. And seeing as you’re the only one around who’s able to walk and actually move without much difficulties apart from me, it’s only logical that you take care of him.” I’m losing patience here really fast, and at the moment I want nothing more than getting away from that guy and into a nice quiet corner where no-one will ever find me. But seeing this isn't going to happen anytime fast I desperately cling to every bit of patience I have left.
“Go do your dressing or whatever you need to do. But I ain’t letting myself being bossed around by you anymore, queenie. You got that?” Stupid asshole. See if I care.
“Do whatever you want. But be prepared for taking over the first watch. We need to look out for Tusken and other surprises.” With that I turn around to go… somewhere, far away from that bastard who’s got the nerves to undress me with his eyes and treat me like dirt in the same breath. And I also don’t want anyone around when I finally set to dress my wrist, because I’m sure I’ll look very absurd and very clumsy.
“You know you can’t stay awake forever,” he says and I keep looking at the endless desert, saying nothing. In some distance, we can see Tarkker’s silhouette against the starry sky. “He's still one of us, Mel.” I wonder if he’d still say that if he had seen how Tarkker looked at me an hour ago. Suppressing a shiver, I hunch over a little more. Just our luck that there’s nothing lying around with which you could built a fire.
“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous, Xan.”
He coughs, then sighs. “Dangerous? Mel, he’s one of the good guys, remember? We are the good guys. Sure, he’s a bastard, but he’s a bastard on our side. Why is it you don’t trust him?”
Because he’s a lecherous idiot who’s just waiting for his chance to get his dirty fingers on me and show me what women in the Army really deserve in his opinion. “Because I just have the feeling that he’s not necessarily here for the same reasons we are.”
He closes his eyes and leans back on the box. Shouldn’t he go to sleep or something? “And what are those reasons? Mel, we already established that my being here is the result of a belated puberty. What are your reasons? Your mother?”
From one second to another, I’m wide awake. I jerk up-right, looking at him all alert now. “What do you know about my mother, Farrayn?”
He opens his eyes again and looks directly at me. I can’t see much, only the star light reflecting in his eyes then and again, and the usual green eyes look dark like the night surrounding us. “Not much more than the camp grapevine is saying. She was a fleet Captain, some kind of hero. Died in an ambush, went down with her ship. From that I figured…”
“Oh, you ‘figured’. From some half-assed rumors. And because of that you know about all my reasons for joining. I bow to your genius, Private.” Why in all Heavens can’t I just stay calm when it’s about my mother? Or when someone hits dead on target, and I just don’t want to admit it. Besides, that was really mean, even considering it’s Xanas - bane of my existence - sitting there. He's wounded, and he lost a lot of blood, and I’ve got no right to go all plasma grenade on him like that. But it’s out, and taking it back wouldn’t make it undone anyway.
“Jen… I didn’t say that to insult you or something. I wanted to ask if what I figured was true. I know you are doing your best to cope with the situation, and as far as I can tell, you’re doing okay. I just want you to stop wrecking your head about things 24/7 and start to relax a little. You won’t do much good if you stay awake all the time, and all the time thinking about what you need to do and what might happen. So… humor the Private who was stupid enough to get himself all burned up and then go and take your sleeping turn. Please?”
He's actually asking me for something. Knowing him, it cost him. Xanas Farrayn III. who always gets everything he wants with just a smile and few nice words - more so if his opposite is female - sinking down to actually asking for something… And me desperately wanting to give in his urgings… Just shows how screwed-up both of us are at this point of the whole mission.
I sigh. “Fine. Yes, my mother was a Captain for the Alliance. Yes, her ship got ambushed. Yes, she went down with it, making sure most of her crew were getting away safely. No, I didn’t join because I thought I needed to prove something.” Now lying to a wounded comrade. Melara, how far down are you going to sink here?
“Then why did you?” Why do I still feel like he doesn’t believe me? Oh, right, because even I don’t believe myself.
“It’s complicated… On Chandrila, democracy is everything. I dare say it’s not a coincidence that our leader is a Chandrilan of all peoples. We are raised to firmly believe in it, and defend it at gunpoint if necessary. So when the Empire started invading my planet step by step, I… I wanted to do something. I joined there, and I trained there, and then I was sent to Tatooine. And now I’m trying to prevent the Empire from doing what they did to my world or Ghorman or Alderaan. As a simple Private. Way to go, Melara.” I’m a bit surprised at myself, because the last part sounded like I meant that more for myself than for Xanas.
He seems to have noticed it himself, because he strains to lift his hand up and puts it on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it. For a while, neither of us says anything. Then, “Mel?”
I turn to him. “Mhm?”
“She’d be proud of you.” I close my eyes and lean my forehead against my rifle. I know he didn’t mean to insult me or anything, but I just heard that phrase a little too often to actually believe people weren’t mocking me or using it as a careless cliché.
“Yeah, whatever.” I hear him take a deep breath again to reply something, but I cut him short by saying, “You’re already past your bedtime, Private. Don’t make me beat you to sleep. Or drug you.”
“Same goes for you, Private,” he says, but has his eyes closed. When I check a little while later, he’s breathing as evenly as a heavy wounded man can breathe while asleep. Hoping to the Gods that he will wake in the morning, I settle in for one of the longest nights of my life.
~*~
TBC in Chapter 5.
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: T, to be on the safe side
Genres: Gen, Action/Adventure
Summary: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... there were also people who were neither Jedi nor smugglers nor bounty hunters nor anything else as glamorous as that. Private Jenna Melara, infantry soldier for the Alliance, was one of them. Here's her story.
A/N: Fourth chapter... and the day just got even better. As in... worse. I do hope at least some people are reading it, though (because, you know, I can see you clicking on it *big sister).
( Screw Up 1/6 )
( Screw Up 2/6 )
( Screw Up 3/6 )
Four
I hear the faint cussing again. Seems a little inarticulate, but definitely angry. I guess I need to take the risk and see where this is all coming from. Drawing the small officer’s blaster my mother left me behind, I walk over to the other side of the box and climb out. For a moment, all I see are charred remains of At and Winters and a lot of debris lying around, but when I suddenly hear a rustling sound to my side, I whirl around, the blaster pointing to whatever is in front of me.
“Whoa, girlie, are we nervous today or what?” Tarkker. I should have known. And, by the look of it, he is relatively unscathed. Bastard.
“What are you doing here?” Okay. Dumbest question of the year.
“Enjoying the sunlight and the breeze with a drink in my hand. Holy shit, what do you think I’m doing here, huh?” I guess I deserved that. Besides from asking stupid questions, my blaster is still pointing at his head. I’d be pissed as well, if I was in his position.
I put the blaster down, and my wrist is thanking me. Adrenaline can be so irritating sometimes. “Did you get injured in the crash?”
He shrugs. “Not much, and it’s none of your business anyway.” Of course it is, mister.
“Yes, it is. Now, get to the other side of the box and tell Xanas I’m looking for a splint. And see that he stays awake. He lost some blood, and I don’t want him to go into shock.” Whoa, where did that come from? I actually sound like a soldier all of a sudden.
“Wait a minute, queenie… who put you in charge, huh?” Oh, so Tarkker obviously is not as thrilled at my new character trait as I am.
“We can discuss authority issues later. What I now need is a splint and someone to keep Xanas alive. That shouldn’t be too much, even for you.” Whoa. I guess surviving a crash like that and taking care of wounds like Xanas’ does something to a person. I’m not sure if I like this, though.
“Okay, listen up, you stupid bitch…”
“Is there… a problem… Tarkker?” Both of us snap around to look at a heavily panting Xanas leaning against the cockpit wall. On his forehead, sweat is glistening, and his face looks ashen. Dammit.
Without giving any more attention to Tarkker, I rush over to Xan. Draping his arm over my shoulder, I mutter, “That was a very stupid thing to do, Private. How do you expect me to haul your sorry ass back to the camp in one piece if you keep on ruining how I patched up everything?”
He says nothing, just grins a little slurred. Then, “Sorry… Mel. Just… can’t see a woman getting insulted.”
I huff. “I swear it, one day, Xanas Farrayn III., your chivalrous attitude will get you killed. Or at least severely hurt.” I lower him down to the ground, feeling the wrist protest all the while. I can feel him tensing up, and I can’t help tensing up as well. I really don’t want to hurt him anymore, regardless of what I liked to think at times before the whole ordeal.
“Yeah, if this here doesn’t kill me first.” I pause. I know he meant it as a joke, but I feel dread building up in my stomach. What if he really doesn’t survive this? Or anyone else of us? Or all of us? Gods, Melara, get a grip on yourself, for Heaven’s sake. Your mother would be ashamed of you.
Taking a deep breath, I frown at him and say, “Stop talking nonsense, mister, or I’ll have a closer look at your leg again. Now stay here while I deal with Tarkker, right.”
He looks up at me, smirking, “Yes, Ma’am.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn around and return to Tarkker who’s still standing on the other side of the box an staring at me with a certain amount of malice in his eyes. Good grief, we’re all on the same side, remember? “So… you feel like being up to a little baby sitter duty while I take care of my little problem here? Or do you need any medical assistance?”
I swear it, the sneer was totally unintended. Just couldn’t help it. He gives me another dirty look. “Not of the kind of ‘medical assistance’ you Army women like to offer. But thank you for the offer anyway.” Bastard. Slimy, obnoxious, abhorrent bastard. There’s only one way to counter this: Totally ignore it.
“Fine. Go help Private Farrayn, and start getting settled. See if you can get a fire running, but make sure no one can see it.. I’ll see if there’s anything still useful lying around here in the meantime.” He snorts and lets his gaze wander over my body. Like he’s undressing me with his eyes or something. Good grief.
“I don’t see no higher-up who gave you a promotion of some sort around here. So you’re still the little screw-up with tits you were before we crashed.” I’m almost ashamed to admit it but I’m actually tempted to reach for my blaster and point it at his head again. Not set at stun. And certainly not in accident. Gritting my teeth, I will myself to take my hand back from the holster.
“Look, I’m not ordering you around.” Lying again to a comrade. And so blatantly. Shame on you, Melara. “All I’m saying is that Private Farrayn needs someone to look after him while I take care of my injuries. And seeing as you’re the only one around who’s able to walk and actually move without much difficulties apart from me, it’s only logical that you take care of him.” I’m losing patience here really fast, and at the moment I want nothing more than getting away from that guy and into a nice quiet corner where no-one will ever find me. But seeing this isn't going to happen anytime fast I desperately cling to every bit of patience I have left.
“Go do your dressing or whatever you need to do. But I ain’t letting myself being bossed around by you anymore, queenie. You got that?” Stupid asshole. See if I care.
“Do whatever you want. But be prepared for taking over the first watch. We need to look out for Tusken and other surprises.” With that I turn around to go… somewhere, far away from that bastard who’s got the nerves to undress me with his eyes and treat me like dirt in the same breath. And I also don’t want anyone around when I finally set to dress my wrist, because I’m sure I’ll look very absurd and very clumsy.
“You know you can’t stay awake forever,” he says and I keep looking at the endless desert, saying nothing. In some distance, we can see Tarkker’s silhouette against the starry sky. “He's still one of us, Mel.” I wonder if he’d still say that if he had seen how Tarkker looked at me an hour ago. Suppressing a shiver, I hunch over a little more. Just our luck that there’s nothing lying around with which you could built a fire.
“That doesn’t make him any less dangerous, Xan.”
He coughs, then sighs. “Dangerous? Mel, he’s one of the good guys, remember? We are the good guys. Sure, he’s a bastard, but he’s a bastard on our side. Why is it you don’t trust him?”
Because he’s a lecherous idiot who’s just waiting for his chance to get his dirty fingers on me and show me what women in the Army really deserve in his opinion. “Because I just have the feeling that he’s not necessarily here for the same reasons we are.”
He closes his eyes and leans back on the box. Shouldn’t he go to sleep or something? “And what are those reasons? Mel, we already established that my being here is the result of a belated puberty. What are your reasons? Your mother?”
From one second to another, I’m wide awake. I jerk up-right, looking at him all alert now. “What do you know about my mother, Farrayn?”
He opens his eyes again and looks directly at me. I can’t see much, only the star light reflecting in his eyes then and again, and the usual green eyes look dark like the night surrounding us. “Not much more than the camp grapevine is saying. She was a fleet Captain, some kind of hero. Died in an ambush, went down with her ship. From that I figured…”
“Oh, you ‘figured’. From some half-assed rumors. And because of that you know about all my reasons for joining. I bow to your genius, Private.” Why in all Heavens can’t I just stay calm when it’s about my mother? Or when someone hits dead on target, and I just don’t want to admit it. Besides, that was really mean, even considering it’s Xanas - bane of my existence - sitting there. He's wounded, and he lost a lot of blood, and I’ve got no right to go all plasma grenade on him like that. But it’s out, and taking it back wouldn’t make it undone anyway.
“Jen… I didn’t say that to insult you or something. I wanted to ask if what I figured was true. I know you are doing your best to cope with the situation, and as far as I can tell, you’re doing okay. I just want you to stop wrecking your head about things 24/7 and start to relax a little. You won’t do much good if you stay awake all the time, and all the time thinking about what you need to do and what might happen. So… humor the Private who was stupid enough to get himself all burned up and then go and take your sleeping turn. Please?”
He's actually asking me for something. Knowing him, it cost him. Xanas Farrayn III. who always gets everything he wants with just a smile and few nice words - more so if his opposite is female - sinking down to actually asking for something… And me desperately wanting to give in his urgings… Just shows how screwed-up both of us are at this point of the whole mission.
I sigh. “Fine. Yes, my mother was a Captain for the Alliance. Yes, her ship got ambushed. Yes, she went down with it, making sure most of her crew were getting away safely. No, I didn’t join because I thought I needed to prove something.” Now lying to a wounded comrade. Melara, how far down are you going to sink here?
“Then why did you?” Why do I still feel like he doesn’t believe me? Oh, right, because even I don’t believe myself.
“It’s complicated… On Chandrila, democracy is everything. I dare say it’s not a coincidence that our leader is a Chandrilan of all peoples. We are raised to firmly believe in it, and defend it at gunpoint if necessary. So when the Empire started invading my planet step by step, I… I wanted to do something. I joined there, and I trained there, and then I was sent to Tatooine. And now I’m trying to prevent the Empire from doing what they did to my world or Ghorman or Alderaan. As a simple Private. Way to go, Melara.” I’m a bit surprised at myself, because the last part sounded like I meant that more for myself than for Xanas.
He seems to have noticed it himself, because he strains to lift his hand up and puts it on my shoulder, lightly squeezing it. For a while, neither of us says anything. Then, “Mel?”
I turn to him. “Mhm?”
“She’d be proud of you.” I close my eyes and lean my forehead against my rifle. I know he didn’t mean to insult me or anything, but I just heard that phrase a little too often to actually believe people weren’t mocking me or using it as a careless cliché.
“Yeah, whatever.” I hear him take a deep breath again to reply something, but I cut him short by saying, “You’re already past your bedtime, Private. Don’t make me beat you to sleep. Or drug you.”
“Same goes for you, Private,” he says, but has his eyes closed. When I check a little while later, he’s breathing as evenly as a heavy wounded man can breathe while asleep. Hoping to the Gods that he will wake in the morning, I settle in for one of the longest nights of my life.
~*~
TBC in Chapter 5.