Glitterstim Cowboys

Rhen Var

"No, no no no don't do that!"

He was running down the main corridor of his ship (really, it was their ship), desperate to reach the rear engine bay in time before that damn idiot did anything to make their already dire situation so much... much more worse.

The Rascal King shuddered as he descended through the layers of atmosphere, his lower hull glowing as he pushed further down. He rocked and juked, sending Markos from one bulkhead to the other. There was no end to the shuddering, and it seemed as though the wild buffeting would tear the ship apart in a matter of seconds. Their descent was barely controlled as it was, and the ancient ship had certainly seen better days. An understatement if there ever was one, to be sure. The old olive drab paint had flecked away ages ago to reveal a matte grey surface that had just not been repainted. It would happen... eventually.

Of course if they swan-dived into the snowy tundras of Rhen Var, that paint job would be more of a salvage job. If there was anything left to salvage.

Careening around a corner, Markos steadied himself with a hand to the circular doorframe.

"Hey! I said not to do that!"

He could see the bent back of his partner, hunched over a short distance away, and Markos surged ahead once more. One more doorway, and the blonde skidded low, letting his body fall so that he slid on his knees right up to the edge of an opened floor panel. He reached for a handful of hair.

"Dammit you ignoramus! You're gonna break my ship!"

Markos might have been the pilot, but if anything, this was Rocky's ship. He was the technical brains of this operation, and he wasn't about to have the cart drive the eopie on this blue milk run.

"Gnaaaghraaf!!"

Rocky shook a fist full of thermal modulator at his partner, then reciprocated the fur-pulling, taking a paw full of Markos's hair to push his head to where he could see the problem up close, which was clearly that the atmospheric field coil had been de-charged, not fried.

"Haughwrar auu wrahh auhhhhwooofgh!"

And, this was the second time this had happened, and that they'd had this same argument before and Rocky was right the first time!

"Oh come off it!"

He was manhandled with ease into staring at the issue, his features screwing into a mask of disgust at the smell.

"So it de-charged again! I thought you were gonna fix it after the first time!"

Another violent shake, and Markos tumbled the rest of the way down into the work-cubby. Landing roughly, the Lupine let out a grunt before using Rocky to lever himself back into a passable upright position.

"Why didn't it get fixed?!"

Someone seemed to forget about what happens when a direct ion blast overloads a shield coil.

"Gwohr haaaurrr!!!"

No, screw it. Since he knew so much, he could do the re-charge himself, because someone had to ease them down to the planet instead of belly flop. Waving his arms in resignation, Rocky pushed the thermal modulator into Markos' hands, and began to make his way to the cockpit.

"Grauwaah gaa nwrawww!!"

He stared in wide-eyed surprise before barking back with a retort of his own.

"You leave my sister out of this, you giant walking shag rug!"

It was a futile endeavor now, and with a snort of disgust, Markos looked down to the thermal modulator before his head jerked back up and he yelled at Rocky's back.

"And you better keep the wings up this time!!"

"Hrawauuf!"

Rocky thunked into the copilot's seat, transferring helm control to his position. Already, they were coming in too hot. The tell-tale red wisps at his peripheral vision indicated re-entry burn. For now, it was just atmosphere. Too much of a bad thing, though, and they'd cook the ship to a crisp.

The Wookiee reached up to punch flap control, which buffeted the ship sharply, but created enough drag to help to nudge their descent trajectory a few fractions of a degree out of the danger zone. At this speed, it would utterly screw the flaps, but they weren't getting out of this landing looking pretty. A red blinking light on his console droned angrily at him, and Rocky beat the console with a fist, shouting behind him. What was taking so long.

"Aawwahhgg!"

Thrusters were next, which would also help to angle the approach. Rocky set the burst to 20 microseconds, hearing the thrust kick in with a hissing whine. At this distance, the curvature of Rhen Var's surface was beginning to flatten out into a proper horizon, which meant that they were out of the woods on burning up on entry.

Now, he just had to land the damned thing.

Another sharp rock jostled him about in his tight quarters, and Markos looked up just in time to watch as an open-faced toolbox came crashing down. A spanner caught him on the knee and another smattering of tools rained hell on his feet.

"Hey! Maybe you could make things a little more bumpy?!"

Holding the thermal modulator in one hand, he knelt to scoop up a priming wrench, jamming the tip into the modulator's energizing port. It wasn't too much of a hassle, but it was the time it took to recharge the damn thing. Once the initial spark was made, the modulator was good enough at cycling itself back into working order, but it was the time it took to get there. The wrench gave a whine as it spooled up, and with a frown, Markos pulled it away as the modulator began to recharge itself after the initial jumpstart.

Another few moments, and he let the priming wrench fall to the wayside, and reaching into the mass of wires and conduits with his now-free hand, he pushed the modulator into its' slot. A few more moments of hurried work, and the quick-connect wires were slotted into their ports.

"Ok! Try it now!"

"Rwauuuwwhwraa howrrau!!"

Backseat drivers, always! Doesn't like the tinkering, doesn't like the flying. Maybe he'll like the view of the mountains from the inside because if they didn't bleed off a little more inertia...

...suddenly, Rocky's readout turned green, which meant the coil was back in the saddle with a fresh charge. Finally!

"Gwoogh!" Rocky called back with authority, holding a thumbs up in appreciation, while at the same time realizing he probably wasn't doing himself any favors by feeding his partner's ego. Besides, he needed both hands, and in short order.

The surface of Rhen Var was coming up fast, but at least with a buffering atmospheric field in play, Rocky could feather the harmonics against the air resistance. It was a dirty fix, but the Rascal was as maneuverable as a Hutt going uphill in their current predicament, so it didn't have to be fancy. The Wookiee took quick stock of what he had going for him. Ailerons were bleeding power, which meant maneuvering that way was an act of Congress. Still, Rocky torque down on the stick, fighting the building resistance as he did. Now it paid to have the Wookiee do the driving, as the Rascal King slowly banked away from the first treacherous mountains in their path.

"Auughhaur mrrrooahh!"

They now had to shop around for the landing zone least likely to kill them, and Rocky hollered for Markos to take his seat. He needed a second set of eyes on the lay of the land while he worked the instruments. Plus, Markos on the trigger of the retro thrusters would be key. He needed to squeeze them with cracker-jack timing, and they only had enough thruster fuel for a handful of blasts.

It took some finagling around the shaking of the ship, but Markos was able to heft himself up out of the maintenance cubby without too much trouble. Or too much lost dignity either. A scramble as he pulled his leg up and out, and moments later he was rocking up to his feet, using the King's jerky motions to help him up. A split second later and he was off again, this time careening out of the engine bay, through the main hub, and then down the main corridor that led to the bridge. Well, it really was more of a cockpit now, as Rocky had had his way with renovating it to something more suitable to a two person crew rather than a ten person crew.

Markos let himself fall into the pilot's seat, half-fastening his crashstraps with one hand while the other reached out to dance over the forward dash. Ahead, he could see the sprawling white of Rhen Var's surface. Grimacing, he bared his teeth out of instinct. He hated the cold. Always had.

Course, the sight of the snow below didn't fully pull him from what Rocky was going on about, and he gave a quick glance to the Wookiee.

"I thought we told that old fuel clerk to top us off on our last stop?! I sure as hell know that I paid for a full tank! I mean, it's not been that long since we leveled up those things, has it?"

"Augff hnrm grnaau hawoouarrr...auuu whrouugh ougf fwruf!"

Typical flyboy. Only worried about the tank. Rocky hauled off on a litany of maintenance issues on the docket, including how they'd passed on replacing the injectors for the ailerons in order to pay for a bribe at the docking bay on Oord Trasi. And no, the main drives didn't connect to the retro thrust, or any maneuvering thrust, because those were completely different systems. The Wookiee was busy with both hands in tug of war with the yoke, so he gave a vicious series of head nods at the points of reference on the console.

Sometimes he wondered if he was here to let Markos get all the credit when things went right, and for him to clean up the mess when they didn't. Rocky trailed off in a low moan.

"Hroooah au whaauawarraugh gnoooo?"

Constructive. Be constructive. Put his eagle eyes to good use on a patch of snow to land this ungainly bird on. They were losing altitude at a lazy hemorrhage instead of a gush, so they had at least a moment to choose before gravity narrowed them down.

"I'm looking!"

It seemed to always come down to this. Reaching for his own yoke in an attempt to help, Markos strained against what the ship wanted to do, and put all of his muscle into helping Rocky keep things level-ish. It was a steady application, but there was a surprising amount of strength to his efforts now. Far more than anyone who set eyes on him would think at first glance.

"Over there," he growled out, giving a nod to the left.

"There's a flat spot that looks big enough. I hope... "

They were still dropping, but it wasn't so dire as it had been on their initial entry into the planet's atmosphere.

"Think we can stretch the glide out enough to reach- "

A two-tone alarm cut in through his words like a ton of durracrete bricks, and looking up to the overhead display, Markos furrowed his brow as a fresh wave of frustration washed over him.

"What the... He's stalling!!"

"Hrrrahwrrooo!!"

Rocky tilted back his head, painting the ceiling with his curses as he felt the nunas flip to the roof of his stomach. They'd bled off too much inertia clearing the last mountain, and were now practically skiing down the slope, given how close they were to sheer rock. Normally they'd be able to power out of a stall with a dive, but they didn't have the breathing space to do it now, and they'd run out of mountain real quick unless they could come up with a better idea.

"Gnaa hrwaaghh?"

The Wookiee's eyes trailed to the retro ignition. They'd burn up their hold card if they flamed it now, but the ventral thruster nozzles at full burnout - coupled with a full burn on the main engines - should give them airspeed and level off their descent. If they did that, they just might get into a sustainable descent. The problem was that they'd have more velocity than they bargained for the end run, and they'd have no good way to arrest what was now certainly looking like a crash landing.

It was Markos' call. Rocky's right paw carefully palmed the throttle. If Markos was in, so was he.

"Wait!!"

They'd have to worry about the consequences later. The slope was beginning to gradually even out, the King only just barely staying above the surface. The only saving grace he could see was the rocky, mountainous surface giving way to a snow-covered grade.

"I have an idea!"

A plume of snow trailed them now, rising into the air like a chaotic tail in their wake.

The engine sputtered one last time, and Markos gave an angry curse before his entire body wound tight with exertion. The control yoke was bent as far right as he could make it go, and at the same time his feet pushed the footpedals down until they bottomed out.

For a moment the ancient beast did nothing. It simply kept speeding down the mountainside, his belly coming ever closer to the snow. And then...

A creak as there was a shift in angle, and the King ever so slowly began to respond.

"Slip it! Help me slip it!"

Rocky's eyes went from adrenaline-junky to fear-shot in a moment.

"Hnnh whowrr..."

If his idea was throwing a dart at the board over his shoulder, then Markos's was doing the same after a bottle of whisky in the tank. There was no way they'd find the lift, but it was too late to do anything about it because his sidekick had already thrown his die on the table and they were spinning...

...which was literally probably what they'd be doing in seconds. Down a mountainside.

"Gnaaaaahhhh!!!"

What choice did he have but to go all in? Rocky took the controls to the juddering flaps and pushed his weight into them, fatalistically hoping that at least the reduced lift at the onset might make them easier to lock in. His shoulders shook with effort, but were rewarded two excruciating seconds later with the dull clang of durasteel. Now they were eating every bit of resistance they had, and the Rascal shook like it was having a seizure. The Wookiee made sure his crash webbing was secure, and gave Markos a now-or-never look.

This wasn't exactly how he imagined he would die.

The King laboriously listed, angling its' hulk into a sideslip as they continued to thunder down the mountainside. It was a barely controlled maneuvre that Markos gambled on, hoping to slow their descent in some way.

And somehow, by some sheer miracle, it worked. Their airspeed dropped to something just above acceptable, and as he strained against the controls, he couldn't help the small spark of hope that was beginning to form in his gut. With the yoke pulled one way and the floored foot-pedals pushing the ship the other direction, the King continued to shoot downwards, yet at a sideways approach. The snow below still sprayed up in their wake, but they were slowing regardless.

"A little more!!"

Both he and Rocky continued to hold, kept their efforts focused, and they finally dipped below the safety horizon.

"Pull him back! Straighten out!"

Like an uncoiling spring he moved, jerking the yoke back to center as he let up on the pedals.

The old ship groaned as it righted itself, and the powder spray just below them grew.

"Cut power! Kill everything!"

The belly of the King finally touched down in a skid, releasing a sudden burst of snow spray before ever-so-slightly taking to the air again.

Like a skip-stone they hit the slope, until finally the weight settled them into an uncontrolled slide down the now-shallow angle of the foothills.

"Auwhf gna waraa."

Why was he calm? Had he accepted his fate to be scraped off a mountain? Rocky moved along the power-down sequence, hitting the breakers in their standard sequence even as the entire ship shook to the point of nearly making it impossible.

Hell, why not calm? They'd gone all-in, and now it was up to physics to sort them out or not. Even if they went full burn there was nothing to be done to change the situation now.

The frequency of the juddering became less violent after a sudden jolt, and from the spall of snow out of the viewport, they were now no longer flying, but skidding. The Wookiee gave an uncomfortable glance-about, hearing the worrisome scrape of metal against rock, and he hoped that they'd decided to gamble on a bunny slope.

Of course, just when he thought that, the entire ship bucked upwards a few meters, no-doubt colliding with an outcropping under the snow pack. Rocky felt his stomach flip as they again returned to the mountain, only this time the view was turning to the left.

"Nnhh whauraau."

Now they could just experience a near-death moment without having to see it unfold. Probably better that way. Rocky turned to his partner, considering the weird helplessness of the moment. This was probably a good time to say something.

"Hnauwrr rro au wauu hnnooo rrf uuwu..."

And he meant every word of it. No more sarcasm or banter. Rocky looked over to Markos, and placed his big hand over the human's.

The shaking stopped. Rocky's eyes closed.

This is it. We're dead now.

A few moments passed, and he cracked one eye open. Then the other, giving a look-around. The afterlife appeared so very...normal.

As the King ground to a halt, metal screeching in a teeth-shattering din, Markos had screwed his eyes shut even as he felt Rocky's massive grip over his hand, and heard what he had thought would be the last words he'd ever hear. They were sweet, insomuch as sweet went with Wookiees. But the sentiment and honesty was there, and Markos had firmly believed that those words were the last he'd take to his grave.

Except...

His eyes flew open after a few seconds of creaking... of feeling the King rock a few more times before growing still.

And in that moment he let out a breath that he'd not known he'd been holding. His hand pulled out from beneath Rocky's, and the Lupine rocked back in his seat as a rush of adrenaline passed over him.

"... Hah!"

He stared at the ceiling, and the upper panel and all of its' switched and toggles and buttons. He stared at them all in a fresh, rapt fascination.

"HAH!"

Both hands came up to push sweaty blonde bangs from his eyes and back along the top of his head.

"HOOOOO!!!"

Oh to be alive!

The realization hit Rocky too, a second or two later.

"HrraruuAAAAAGGGHH GNAAAUU AUWWAAUUFF!!!"

Ecstatic, Rocky tore out of his crash webbing, standing up as his paws banged on the roof in jubilation. He pulled Markos out of his seat, drawing him into the biggest hug of a lifetime as the sheer joy of being alive overcame him.

"GHHAAAAAUUUUU!!!!!!"

"I KNOW!"

In the here and now, being crushed in Rocky's embrace didn't even bother him. The Wookiee's fur pressed against the side of his face, and Markos couldn't help but be taken up in the moment. He jumped, hollering along with his companion in jubilation at still being able to draw in air. Or well, somewhat. Spitting out a lock of chest fur, Markos pushed himself away from the towering hulk, casting wide eyes behind him and out the viewport. A wall of white met him, and despite their still dire situation, the grin on his features remained.

He looked back to Rocky, giving him a light sock on the arm.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Sweetheart."

A final exhalation of breath, as the immediate silence between them was disturbed by a series of creaks and groans as the King settled a little bit more into the snowbank he'd come to rest in. Once again he ran a hand through his hair, casting a look past the Wookiee and down the main corridor leading to the back of the ship.

"Mom's not gonna be happy 'bout the ship," he finally ventured.

The ridiculousness of his observation was not lost on either of them.

Curbing his enthusiasm a little, Rocky allowed Markos a scant amount of breathing room as he took stock of the situation. There wasn't any prevailing chemical stink. No tibanna, no ozone, and nothing like an electrical fire. No telling how much structure damage, but considering how rough they'd come down, it was a small miracle that they'd come to a landing in this condition.

Rocky pushed some raggedy bangs back atop his head, giving his shoulders a carefree roll.

"Hnaau nuwrr hrow hruuwoo ouuff grauu, au hrruuf wroo."

After all, they'd made it all work after worse spots of getting their goose cooked.

"Gnarr wrooo."

A little cocky swagger, a toothy grin, and a thumb tucked against his chest. Rocky knew he'd get the bird back on her feet again. When had he not?

Rocky's grin was infectious, and Markos gave him a firm pat on his shoulder.

"I know you will, Buddy."

There was a level of deep trust that ran directly beneath their bantering and pestering, and it was very nearly unbreakable.

"Should think about getting out though, to get a lay of things and to see where we're sitting."

Stepping away from his Wookiee companion, the blonde headed back through the long main corridor into the body of the King. He wasn't so sure about Rocky, but for himself at least he'd have to pull out the snow gear. Insulated jacket, padded trousers, lined boots, and thick gloves. There was more of course, but for a quick trip out, he'd probably only need the basics.

Opening the cold-weather locker, he reached in, pulling out a bright, multi-colored knit scarf and hat combo, holding both up.

"You gonna use the stuff Teag made you?"

A sense of macho pride ran through the Wookiee, and he shook his head emphatically. He wasn't a kid anymore, and his coat had come into it's prime. If anyone needed the decorative knitwear, it was Markos.

With a bit of confidence, Rocky popped the hatch to step into the great frozen outdoors. It only took a second for him to stand there, snowflakes blowing into his fur, before he realized something.

He'd made a big mistake.

For his part, Markos had only given a shrug, moving on to pulling on his own cold-weather gear. He grabbed a pair of goggles, and as an afterthought stuffed the scarf and hat in one of the deep pockets of his down-filled overcoat. Shimmying up the ladder that led to the top hatch, the Lupine heaved himself up and out.

The first thing that struck him was the biting wind. Quite literally, in fact.

Instinctively his entire body tensed as his eyes looked out over the vast, white-washed expanse. It was pristine desolation.

A sidelong glance to Rocky. The Wookiee held a look that wasn't often telegraphed, but there was something that Markos could feel. Something that made him frown.

"What's wrong?"

So much for pride. Stinging winds and fat snowflakes finding the gap between fur had a good way of humbling you. The Wookiee whined against the gale, keeping his teeth from chattering somehow.

"Augwhawaa..."

Grabby hands gestured at the bulge in Markos' coat as he asked for the warm clothing he knew the human had brought along anyway. Rocky was a humbled, but warmer man.

"Hhrwoo."

Giving a nod to his partner, he was as ready as he was ever going to be to brave the cold. As an afterthought, he adjusted the heavy repeating blaster's strap at his shoulder. Probably not necessary. Not much could survive this icebox.

Giving another look out to the desolation before them, Markos frowned. A glance to Rocky, then he turned to the King. The damned ship didn't look too bad, but enough of it was buried in the snow to hide anything particularly terrible. And knowing their luck, there was surely a hull breach somewhere. More than likely along the underbelly.

A stray hand wandered to the blaster at his hip, and then out of habit ran his gloved fingers over the leather and metal gauntlet on his right forearm. concealed beneath the bulky material of his overcoat, the contours seemed muted.

"I'd ask if you could smell anything, but hells; even I can't get a scent out in this white wasteland."

"Harrruuf."

Rocky offered a noncommittal affirmative to Markos, squinting his eyes against the bright white landscape. Smells came clear as the bell chimed in the cold, Lupine or Wookiee. But he was right. On a world as sparse as Rhen Var, it didn't get you far.

But there were other senses. Senses they both possessed, even if they denied them. Years felt shorter in these moments, and Rocky could return to the World That Was with greater ease than his friend, because maybe it was a world he'd simply known longer.

Even if on most days he renounced it.

Through the snowy gale, the Wookiee pointed in the distance.

"Gnarruuwoo aawr harooo."

He knew it was the way. And if Markos really had to ask, deep down he also knew.

For his part, Markos gave a slight side-long look to Rocky. Even through the cold and the not-really-silence, he knew what his partner was on about.

"Yeah, yeah."

It wasn't exactly a brush-off, but it was just that all the same. He didn't have near the amount of fond memories for Ossus. Let alone the reasons he had for setting off alone with Rocky.

He pulled out of the fog of his subconscious, only vaguely aware of the massive shoulder he was draped over...

"I hope you've got your walking boots on."

"Hrrrg raaarrr" Rocky smart-alecked right back, thankful at least that he'd been an active enough padfoot to have some protective skin on his feet.

The pair of adventurers trudged on, following the contours of the gentle grade down into the narrow valley they'd nearly reached. The winds seemed to relax at the lower elevation, and the snowfall came now in a more gentle clip. As an afterthought, Rocky pulled a pair of goggles from his pack, sliding them around his head. Their misadventures around the Pantoran moons a year ago had given him a useful lesson about avoiding snowblindness. The tint adjusted on the goggles, tempering the brilliant reflection of the midday sun.

The walk turned into an hour. Into two. Into three. The journey wasn't treacherous in the valley, but there also wasn't a sign of civilization or good shelter to be seen there. And despite Rocky putting on a good game face, the cold in his feet was beginning to wick into his legs and up his spine.

"Gnauwaauwuh!" he whined, his words coming out in a puff of steam as he stopped walking. The cold was sucking out his energy, and he was too tired to even chatter his teeth. The Wookiee sat on the ground with an exhausted thump, sinking down a few inches into the fresh snowfall. He rolled onto his back, and began to push some of the snow lethargically into a pile.

Markos watched his companion with only a partially detached sense. More than anything though, there was a longing in his own eyes behind the goggles he wore. He wanted to sit down also. He wanted to make snowpiles, and burrow nose-first into a mound of snow...

He shook his head of the bizarre thought. It had come unbidden.

"Come on, Rocky," Markos stared down at the Wookiee.

He could certainly understand the despondent feelings he was sensing. The lack of any sort of habitation on Rhen Var was more than discouraging.

"Maybe there's something over that range, up ahead?"

It was a hollow bit of encouragement, and after another few moments he too slowly sank into the pile that Rocky had pushed together.

"We made the landing," he propped himself on an elbow, "... so that means we won't go out like a couple of frozen popsicles, right?"

"Hnaa naa hraww wraa nguuhhhwwruuf."

Rocky nodded, shaking some snow out of his hair as he sat up. He may be the brains of the outfit, but Markos was the heart of it. He'd always been a great guy, even when he was little. Maybe because he'd been one of the youngest Padawans on Ossus, that was why he'd taken a shine to the Lupine from the start. It could sometimes be daunting to grow up in a village where everyone was not only older than you but could also read minds or levitate boulders with their mind.

The Wookiee gave the snow bank a push with his paw, noting that the compacted snow no longer gave ground.

"Hnnnnn wrroo."

Sitting up even more, Rocky pushed more snow into the pile. Then more. Slowly the pile took on a curved shape, and with it, an idea formed in his head.

"Auu hrrurr gnaawaawarroo grroooaahh!"

The snow had a little dampness. Not too much to become slushy ice, but enough to make sure it could hold together if pressed. With enough of that layer pushed and pressed the right way, they may not have to gamble on pushing on to the end of the valley today. They could make their own shelter! The spark of discovery brought an easy underbitten grin to Rocky's face, who always seemed most at ease with the world when it gave him problems he could sort out with a few tools and some know-how.

An hour or so of work yielded the two a decent enough shelter. And just in time, too. The sun was beginning to dip lower, just barely meeting the edge of the mountain range.

Pausing, Markos sent a look up to gauge how much time they had left of usable sunlight. By his estimation it wasn't much. A few minutes later found him leaning back, hands going to undo the buttons of his thick jacket.

"You better make sure to bundle all my clothes up tight this time," he halfway looked towards Rocky.

"Last time we did this everything was soaked with melted snow."

"Gnaaagnaurr hrrowaarff grraaghh mrooa maahhrruuooggh?"

After all, Markos was the metamorph, so why did metamorph planning always fall to him? A flimsiplast rubbish bag in the bug-out pack. A pretty cheap way to avoid a whole lot of trouble. Rocky was too cold to be irritated though. He shrugged his shoulders even as he began to spark the small can of heating element in the center of their makeshift igloo.

"Owwrauuw hauwruuf." he gestured for the Lupine's weatherproofed jacket, already pulling a bundle of elastic ties from his pack. A scant few other supplies had already been laid out along the igloo wall, including the can of pseudo beans. Rocky gave the shameful can a glance, shaking his head. How hard should it be to actually have real beans. That was scraping the culinary barrel enough already.

Shedding his overcoat, Markos handed it over. Next came his gunbelt, and after that he almost reverently undid the fastenings of his gauntlet. The artful display of etched phrik and stamped leather was carefully placed in Rocky's outstretched hands. The rest of his clothing came off in layers until Markos knelt in their makeshift igloo, naked as the day he was born. His body was lean; certainly not a perfect specimen, but there was at least some muscle on his slender frame. His height made him seem almost scrawny to some, but there was strength in him that many never expected a man of his build to possess.

He shivered involuntarily, his arms wrapping around his shoulders as he canted his head to the side, an audible pop coming from his neck.

Already his teeth began to chitter.

"We got this, yeah?"

Rocky gave his friend enough decorum to at least find a patch of igloo worth looking at. At Markos' search for reassurance, the Wookiee gave a sagely nod.

"Hrruu."

What else was there to say? They were joined at the hip. Brothers in that way that so often defied blood. They'd survived Ossus. Survived way worse than this. A bit of ship trouble and some cold wasn't going to shake the foundation.

Rocky kept his eyes away. He'd never been asked not to look, but it seemed wrong to somehow.

A long exhale, and Markos let his shoulders sag while his arm fell away, knuckles dragging lightly through the packed snow. His brow furrowed then, one corner of his lips coming up in a strange expression as his outward breath became a labored groan punctuated by the first ugly sounds of stretching tendons and joints snapping out of their sockets. The blonde fell forward, placing more weight on his outstretched arms as his back arched up. The vertebrae in his spine shifted beneath pale skin, his ribs pushing outward like a splayed hand before coming back in. He gasped, head dipping low as his dishevel sandy mop of hair spread down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. Like a wildfire the golden hue of his pelt spread across his body. Hands that had once been hands were now massive paws as his legs reformed themselves.

Minutes later the blonde vornskr stood, slightly hunched as he angled his head to the side.

He looked up, tawny eyes on Rocky. A moment passed before he lurched forward, legs still a little unsteady. His mother had always said that he'd managed to retain the gangliness of his youth when Changed. Long legs and a lazy stride, seemingly oversized paws that followed him into adulthood...

Perhaps she was right.

He hurfed then, trying to cover the panged memory of his mother with nonchalance.

And as he sidled up to Rocky, the Lupine lifted his head to give the Wookiee's arm a nudge with his nose.

"Annnhwrraau naarrrhrwoof hurrghawaraa."

Rocky gave his head a sheepish nod as he shrugged. This felt weird. It always did. But you know what felt weirder? Hypothermia. And even in vornksyr form, Markos couldn't match Rocky for shagginess.

With a grumble, the wookiee laid out the small travel tarp in his pack. It didn't offer much, save for keeping wet off the fur. That was enough.

At least he got to be the big spoon, Rocky thought with a weary chuckle.

With a knowing whurrfle, Markos shuffled back to allow Rocky enough room to maneuvre, and once the tarp was set out he edged back forward. Rocky sat down heavily, and the Lupine was soon to follow. He huffed out a breath, circled in place a few times, and settled himself down into as tight of a ball as he could all while trying to scootch as close to his friend's larger body as he could. With his bony tail curling around his body, Markos let out a low grumble of unintelligible sounds.

This other side of his friend had always been a curiosity to Rocky. He couldn't parse what the lupine actually said, but he was reasonably sure that he understood enough of the tones and inflections of the yips, barks, and other sounds to get a read for what was on Markos' mind. At least the comprehension worked just fine the other way around.

"Hnrrauu gnauruuff..." the Wookiee monotoned, shifting his body to accomodate the lupine as he curled up. In short, the sooner they nodded off, the better chance they had of getting a decent bit of sleep before first light. No sooner did Rocky set the agenda before he fell asleep like a rock. Surprisingly, the makeshift igloo did a good job of keeping the elements out. The rest was taken care of by body heat and fur. Sure, a mattress would've made the ramshackle almost homey, but it wasn't bad as far as roughing it went. Rocky slept soundly.

A bit too soundly.

What woke him wasn't the creeping glow of rising sun against the snow on the entryway. It was something cold and metallic prodding him roughly in the shoulder. A drowsy eye cracked open, slowly fixating on a familiar sight that his brain was slow to process.

It was the barrel of a blaster.

He was dreaming again. The one with the white tooke. He always chased it, yet never seemed to be able to catch the damnable thing. In the world of his subconscious he dashed after the small rodent as it bolted, changing directions rapidly. And though he kept up well enough, he couldn't ever really catch it.

In the world of the living, his twitching body seemed to jerk, his legs spasming as they played out the chase that his mind was teasing him with. Laying on his side, Markos jerked as he continued to dream, and it wasn't long before a series of stuttered yips escaped his toothy maw, ears shifting back and forward.

So close... he could almost catch its' back legs...

The Lupine shot into the waking world just as his jaws closed around the tooke's tail, and with a bark he burst awake, panting. The first thing that he noticed was the distinct lack of food in his mouth, and sitting up groggily, the shaggy vornskr lolled his head to the side to look down at Rocky, yellow eyes slowly shifting to the blaster and the person holding it.

"Nee bakwa tu tak sawa Kanjiklub kobatko!"

Huh??? Rocky gnuuurred in incredulity, to which the Gotal behind the blaster responded by priming the weapon as a sign that he meant business.

"Sobak! Tu waacha!"

The huttese was easy enough to parse, but this jittery buffoon had mistaken him as one of Kanjiklub's goons...somehow.

"Hrrau hnaagh auwagwaag!"

"Neekta taaku!"

...and then it became abundantly clear that his accuser had absolutely no idea how to speak (or at least hear) Shyriiwook, and was absolutely not in the humoring kind of mood. Grudgingly, Rocky raised up both paws in supplication.

As he considered the whimsy of the cruel force that had landed them in this predicament, Rocky painted the situation in his mind as he best saw it.

A Wookiee who could understand basic and huttese but speak neither.
A Lupine who could do the same but speak nothing at all.
And a Gotal who knew huttese (and probably basic too) but had no one to speak to.

My entire shitty kingdom for a protocol droid, Rocky thought darkly.

A string of garbled jibberish escaped past a row of pointed teeth, starting low at first and rising in volume the more that he pulled the tired cobwebs from his brain. A Gotal with a blaster pointed at both him and Rocky was something that thankfully helped to speed up the process. Sadly, their situation was far less than ideal, and the young Lupine ended his unintelligible, throaty rambling with a huffed breath. How to even begin fixing this?

Where was a protocol droid when you needed on? Or hells, even that old vox translator that Rocky used to always tote around on his knapsack would've been welcomed.

Sadly that old thing was back on the King, no doubt in pieces atop the Wookiee's workbench.

Without options, Markos fell upon old habits he'd had growing up. After so many times being in trouble with his mother and father, he'd learned well enough to adopt the apologetic look and tone; it usually only work a quarter of the time, and more often than not it was a slam dunk with his father; not so much with his mother.

Ears drooping and tail falling still, the vornskr let his head hang low, eyes looking up at the Gotal in that universal anooba pup stare.

Rocky rolled his eyes at the sappy display. Apparently Lupines were able to have an effect on humanoids that Wookiees did not. The Gotal seemed to give Markos the benefit of the doubt, at least. That gave them at least a little wiggle room. Rocky's eyes brightened as he stumbled upon an idea. Time to take advantage of the cute factor.

"Hwarrha aughrraww!"

Still with his hands up, he spoke mainly to his partner, hoping that Markos could get the necessary window to rummage through the rucksack for the datapad. Speaking by text would be annoying, but a lot less annoying than a smoking hole in your forehead.

Markos understood well enough, angling his head to the side as his body fluidly followed the motion, sending him down to his belly, then his side in a half-roll. His neck stretched, nose rooting into the rucksack's opening. His tail lazily slapped the snowpacked 'floor', as his teeth finally closed around the datapad that Rocky had asked for.

Only, as he pulled back up, snout leaving the sack with 'pad firmly held in his jaws, the Gotal let out a warning, his weapon shifting quickly to the Lupine in menacing fashion.

A whine at the motion, and Markos' ears fell, his body freezing lest their captor decide to pull the trigger.

Tawny eyes shifted sideways to Rocky then, unsure exactly where to go from here.

Okay, so it was going to take a hard sell.

Rocky approached the situation with maximum gentleness. No sudden movements. He carefully pantomimed the act of typing on a datapad, then turning the imaginary pad around for the Gotal to read. There was a chance this could still end up being lost in translation. He did his best to appear non-threatening, which was hard to do when you were seven feet tall and...wookiee-ish.

There was a moment of dawning understanding behind the Gotal's eyes, and Rocky flashed an underbitten smile and a nod of his head.

"Hnaaurr."

Reluctantly, the Gotal tilted the barrel of his gun slightly off center. "Nee kuta."

Whew. The all-clear. Rocky turned to his Lupine buddy, now free to pull the pad from Markos's jaws. A swipe with a furry forearm across the screen cleared away a bit of drool, and he began to quickly peck out a message, turning it to the Gotal when finished.

"We aren't with Kanjiklub. We're freelance spacers."

A wide, toothy grin accompanied the message as it was turned to the Gotal, and Markos fixed his eyes up, never letting their intruder's trigger finger from his sight. Sitting up, the vornskr wrapped his long, bony tail around his massive front paws, and the Lupine cut a surprisingly regal figure. His blonde coat seemed almost white in their snowy surroundings, and afforded him a deceptively pristine appearance.

To the Gotal's credit, he glanced at the text long enough to read each word. Of course his gaze went back to Rocky, then shifted to Markos. The rifle seemed to lower a fraction of an inch, but it didn't sweep away entirely. There was curiosity in his eyes, and his head angled to the side as he rattled off another string of words.

"Ge haatu tu tahko jonaama, abowaana."