Planet-Eater 83 (Patreon)

‘SHUT UP’ she countered, weakly. Her face was burning up. By this point, enough blood must have been flowing to her face to make her blue. A great big pit had opened itself in her chest and she felt more ashamed than she ever had. ‘BAD ESCAPE—ASTEROIDS—YOU IN WAY’

‘Oh! Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry!! I didn’t even think of that! But, um, I did kind of assume you could fly, which you apparently technically could, but then into my mouth which is weird, though I’m sure you’ve got your reasons, but you seem like you need some help to move, so… Do you maybe want me to pull you out of there…?’

She was so embarrassed. Her whole face was burning up. Her ears might as well have been melting off her skull. This was the worst. Somehow, even worse-er than before! Wow!

“Command it to pull us out,” Ruckle said. “And to bring us somewhere safe.”

“It’s. Not. That. Simple,” she bit out. In the corner of her vision, another tentacle began approaching them, just trying to…

‘DON’T TOUCH US,’ she sent. 

‘O—okay. In that case, I’ll just…’

Slowly, the abyss began to shrink away. The teeth came back into their sight, and then slowly moved away, until they could finally see enough of the creature to be able to tell that it was using its fanned-out tentacles to swim away slightly, taking them out of its mouth without actually touching them.

She felt like breaking the glass with her fist. Or with the Force. That would’ve been cool.

The massive eyes watched her nervously.

‘You seem kinda mad… why are you mad? Is it something I can help with?’

The meekness. The I-just-want-to-help-ness. The absolute puntability of the creature, coupled with the fact that it wouldn’t listen to her commands, made every hair on her body stand up. And now she was starting to get a headache. Wonderful. 

‘Is it because I haven’t introduced myself? Hello! I’m Mort! I may look big and scary, but I’m actually really nice and love humans! Not for dinner, though. U—unless you’re having dinner with me? That would be nice! Not that I’m asking for a date or anything, I don’t really do that sort of stuff, I just’

‘SHUT UP’

‘...Huh?’

‘PLEASE SHUT UP’

‘Oh. Um… Okay, sure! I can do that. But… Can I protect you first? From asteroids, that is. My tentacles are really good for that! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you, so no more harm will come to you!’

At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to tell the creature to go away. Go away, and never force her to listen to its horrific voice ever again. That was all she wanted. But if she told it that, then they would most likely die. And that would be bad, she had decided. And so, gritting her teeth, shaking with rage, clutching the railing with all her might, she bit out, one word by one,

‘DO. SO. YES.’

‘Really? Oh, great! I was worried you’d say no, for some reason… But that’s good! I’ll be quiet for a while. I’ll actually be… Oh, Fern’s calling me again! I’d better go to him, but, um… I’ll talk to you again in half an hour! Until then, I’ll be sure to keep you protected, yes-siree!’

Slowly, the tentacles of the creature began to envelop the ship again. Her crewmates were alternating between frightened gasps and trying to ask her whether or not this was by her command, but she was busy trying not to bite her own lip off as the stars outside were blotted out, eventually leaving them in total darkness, save for their flickering, meagre lights.

A beast dared to not only ignore her demands, but also presumed itself to know better than her? She would not stand for it. Somehow, she would put it under her control. She couldn’t tell how, but…

“Um, Byrea?”

“Yes, Yoric?”

“Uh… Everything alright? I don’t mean to pry into your Jedi-business or whatever, but… That didn’t look like how it usually goes. Normally, you’d just, yanno, wave your hand and the thing would follow your every command. Meek as a paarthian wildcat.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s how it usually goes, when it isn’t like that.”

“Like what?” Ruckle piped in.

“It just—” She waved at the window. “It’s horrible! You couldn’t hear it, but that was the meekest, suck-uppiest voice I’ve ever heard! All it could say was please and sorry and it just… Urgh! Gross. Ew.”

“Isn’t that what you usually want from a beast?” Yoric asked, leaning on the railing. “A pliable beast that does everything you ask of it?”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but not like that. This was just… wrong. It almost spoke like a person. But like a gross person. Like a slimy little ensign fresh out of the academy. If I have to hear that voice again—”

“You’ll have to eventually,” Ruckle said. “Right now, it’s our only real means of escape. ‘Sides, isn’t it good to be an amicable fella? If it’s desperate to please us, then let it. Ask if it’s seen that big snow planet you were trying to find.”

“Duh, of course it hasn’t,” she spat back. “It’s a big dumb octopus that eats rocks. Why would it have seen Ilsa? Might as well ask it to bring us to Mon Calamari.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it,” Ruckle said with a shrug. “Who knows? It might turn out to be a great asset to the cause.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Oh no, the imperials are onto us! Go, big space octopus, kill them all! At your service, my lady. And then bam, whoosh, smash, splatam! All dead.”

Yoric, running a hand through his hair, allowed his teenageness to show by smirking at her little enactment. “That actually doesn’t sound so bad. One big space octopus versus a star destroyer. Who wins?”

Byrea frowned. She hated when Yoric made good points. “It’s not like we can bring it anywhere,” she countered weakly. “What’s the use of a weapon that isn’t portable?”

“Strap a hyperspace module to it,” Ruckle suggested. “A few thrusters here and there… Would be expensive, but not impossible. And with you to command it to do our bidding?”

“This is ridiculous!” she cried. “What’s next? Rancor parachute jumpers? Sarlacc torpedoes? Come on, get real.”

“Whichever the case,” Ruckle said, “right now, it’s our only chance at surviving. ‘Ain’t no imperial cruiser gonna run by us and arrest us out here. It’s death, or getting help from this thing. So, what’ll it be?”

“Death,” Byrea grumbled, only half-joking, her arms crossed. 

Ruckle patted her on the back, chuckling. “Always with the theatrics. Come on, do you really want to see us all die slowly that badly?”

“I’m actually kind of okay with dying,” Yoric helpfully chimed in. She decided to reward his assistance by punching him in the arm. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll do my best, I guess.”

“Atta girl.” A pat on the back from Ruckle was all the reward she needed. 

At least, for now.