In the wake of the Battle of Nancora, the planet was evacuated by all remaining Collective forces and the grand foundries of the Technocratic Guild rigged to explode. In their haste to secure their own homeworlds, the Clans retreated swiftly as well, leaving few forces to sift through the rubble of the utterly hostile world that had cost them so many lives to conquer.

But amongst those desolate ruins, hidden beneath layers of shattered permacrete and bent durasteel, one molten heart continued to beat a ragged pulse. Rumor has it that a rogue overseer refused the order to self-destruct, or that perhaps a cell of Technocrats have returned in secret to the planet to relight the fires of industry. Whatever the truth, Foundry Kappa-37 continues to belch its acrid smoke into the Nancoran skies from beneath piles of rubble and debris.

What is found here no longer resembles the production line it once was. Bubbling vats of molten durasteel and slag shift atop rickety rails on unmanned carts, piloted by seemingly no-one. Sudden ventings of scalding hot acids spout from cracked pipelines and vents, bathing the surreal scene in a sickening greenish tint that mingles with the rust red corrosion that permeates the bare durasteel skeleton that still somehow survives beneath the wasted surface.

What purpose all this industry serves is anyone’s guess, but in such turbulent times, gaining control of such an asset would be of vital importance to anyone’s war efforts, for the automated lathes and assembler arms left behind are more than capable of manufacturing any desired munition from blasters and shells to cybernetics and starfighters. If one can wrestle control from the half-finished cyborgs that still roam the hallways, dare the perils of the assembly line and make their way to the central control room, still hanging perilously suspended above a giant crucible of molten durasteel, they can bend this arrhythmic heart of production to their whim — or finish what the Collective had started.

Were going in, destroing the kark out of the masheen and heading out i will scout ahead a bit to make sure the path is cleer.

The text lit up Foxen’s data pad, the Nautalon raising a pierced brow at the severe lack of any grammatical care or punctuation. Or even spelling.

This was the director of the Dajorran Intelligence Agency?

Foxen hrrm’ed, typing back as Zuza began her light-footed approach of the building.

She stopped just outside of the way underground, looking at the data-pad.

I should leave you to die for these crimes against grammar.

how wood you get home i flew us here

I would take your ship.

Zuza considered the comment, looking back toward the Nautalon’s location before pinging back a final comment.

well kist

With that, the Human slipped her commlink into her back pocket. A slight smile crossed her face before finally concentrating on the mission ahead.

The building was abuzz with activity. Carts tumbled past on barely stable rails, rust infecting every surface that wasn’t in a permanent state of melting and cooling as drops of fuel and molten metals fell as if by clockwork. Zuza was careful to avoid the warped and discoloured spots of flooring, keeping low to the ground as she looked over the building. The way down was fairly direct but even from up here, the decrepit guards left behind still roamed freely. A less direct route would be ideal but the only ones she could spot were more dangerous than a few derelict droids.

Falling eighty feet to the ground floor was faster than using all the stairs.

Zuza contemplated using her jet pack boots for a few moments before beginning her descent, pinging Foxen’s datapad with her location and the plan. It’d be best to go quiet but direct for now.

It was at the bottom of the stairs that the first droids spotted her. Zuza slipped her Arbir-blades to her hand as the pair approached, shambling but functional enough. One had a saw, whirring away while the other wielded a hammer. A threat still but she was ready to smash some droids.

She let them get closer, waiting and counting before darting forward as the closest of the two surged forward, the rotating saw passing through where her head had been moments before. It left her between the pair but a jab forward with one side of her blades cut the exposed hydraulic wires in the leg of the saw-wielder, giving her the opportunity to turn, duck and back away from the hammer of the other. Zuza laughed, whistling after.

“That was close.”

She stepped back again, and again. It’s vocal device chattered in binaric bitterness and she hesitated just a moment before-

It swung widely, taking advantage of a seeming misstep just as the other droid rose to its feet and was suddenly in the path of the hammer’s swing. It crumpled the head unit of the saw droid, its eyes flickering out as it collapsed.

Splitting the blades into their individual daggers, Zuza moved forward once again. This one was in better condition than its fellow. Less exposed joints and wires, but without creating a lot of noise with her blaster there wasn’t an easy way to take it out.

So they danced, Zuza darting back and forth, using her diminutive size to dip and sway around the droid and avoid its hammer. It was leaning heavily left whenever it swung that way. This testing was interrupted by a bolt shot past her face, forcing the Arconan to stumble back. It broke the cycle she’d made with the hammer droid, another entering the field and setting her on the back foot at once.

“Kriff-”

The hammer swung right for her chest.

She stumbled back, trying to keep eyes on the one with the blaster while regaining her momentum. Another shot she ducked, but the direction brought her right back in the path of the hammer droid, and she knew in those few seconds that something was about to get broken. She could feel it, an instinct shouting at her, it was going to happen, but she didn't have time—

Pistons fired and chains rattled and something small cracked into the droid, knocking it flat. The lights of its photoreceptors winked out.

Zuza didn't stop to think about it. She just jumped over the fallen machine and ran straight for the third one. It fired at her, and her arm burned, but that was fine. The Human bared her teeth in a grin as her heart galloped and the pain was ignored to adrenaline. She lowered herself into a skid at the same time she snapped her blades back together, holding the haft out in front of her. Her sprinting momentum carried her under the droid's legs, her blades slicing out either side right through the metal while her jacket scraped the rubble-strewn flooring. It toppled behind her, and she rolled over and sprung up onto her feet, spinning her weapon about.

Oh man. Zig would've said that looked so cool.

The droid was still moving, of course, not dead yet. But instead of trying to push itself up, as she expected, the chassis of its torso just rotated all the way around, and suddenly the blaster was pointed right at her again.

"Oh kri—"

A massive metal bucket dropped down onto the thing with a crash. Zuza yelped, dancing backwards from the pancaked automaton, and craned her head back to look up where a snapped chain probably as thick as her arm dangled above. It moved along quickly in its line, minus its passenger, other buckets passing on.

Her datapad pinged, calling back her attention. She paused while panting more from excitement than anything else to look at it just in case Foxen was trying to say something important.

Have you considered doing that the same, but better?

"Hey," she pointed out, turning her neck to look for him. Bloody black and gray dude in a black and gray place. "I did fine. They're dead— well, broken. Whatever. And that's more than you're doing yet."

The Nautolan emerged from a perch a ways back, climbing down and then swinging off a chain to land beside her with surprisingly little sound for his heft. Silent as ever, Foxen lifted a hand and pointed. Zuza followed the finger to see several more mishmash rusty cyborgs further away from the other direction and up around, lying on the ground or up on a molten catwalk, all with one precise bullet hole in their chassis.

"Okay, fine, so we're even."

Your ability to do basic sums is equal to your ability to spell.

"I know sums is maths!"

She added a wink and fingergun just to antagonize him, and got an eye twitch for it. Still, it was impressive. She hadn't heard the shots. How? But then, the foundry was loud. It wasn't that they weren't trying to make noise, but to not make out of place noise. She supposed one could fire a slugthrower specifically when those carts rolled by or the machines pounded and it'd be close enough.

Not being ungrateful, she commented, "Hey, thanks for covering me."

Foxen just grunted another grunt. He flashed her a series of hand signals, not signing, but Arconan military code. Zuza at least got the basics of that.

Forward 2.

"Two what?"

Red eyes rolled. He mouthed at her soundlessly.

"Kil-o-me-ter."

"Oh okay, right!" Now how far was that?

It was like he read it on her face. Scoffing, the Nautolan hybrid took the lead, gesturing for her to follow and watch their six as he holstered his pistol.

The two proceeded swiftly from the first encounter on, having to go around a vat of acid and a couple belt lines with parts on them, eyes on the move. Foxen picked off a few more droids that were in their way, always from a distance, using the noise to hide his shots.

They'd both been tortured near to death by the Collective, and both had reason for vengeance; Zuza for her Journeymen that had also been hurt, and Foxen for...well, Foxen Reasons. Probably something to do with Flyndt. But Foxen had had something extra special in his encounter: according to his record of events, they'd tried to attach some machine into his head, like those cyborgs from the Technocrats, to maybe take him over.

And they were using this foundry still to make the parts.

As if to prove that point, as they went deeper, the patrols changed. Not just shambling droids, but actual cyborgs. None so advanced as the Marines from wars past, these looked more like still-walking corpses with a lot of wires. Armed ones.

Mostly with blades attached directly into their arms.

"I'm going in," Zuza told Foxen, lifting her blade again. "Cover me again, yeah?"

Foxen nodded, gun up, firmly planted. The Human activated the electro-filament with a buzz of electricity, in case she'd need the extra power, and advanced.

It was only when she heard the clatter behind her that she glanced back and realized Foxen had dropped his weapon. He stood stock still, frozen, gaze unfocused.

And she'd run right into the middle of four cyborgs with swords for hands.

Kriff again.

“SWORD HANDS!” Zuza yelled back toward Foxen, shoving one leg forward and sliding underneath a swing, ending up on the other side of the droids. But Foxen remained frozen. He wasn’t moving at all.

Kriff. What had happened?

Zuza didn’t have time to question the Nautalon’s stock still status, unaware of the fear pulsing through him. He was aware of the way his heart rate ticked up, his breathing, but the counting was a collection of information and provided no respite. The buzz of electricity was enough.

The cyborgs split, two having spun after Zuza while the other two marched on the larger but seemingly far easier target. More cusses escaped Zu, who was forced further back for a moment past one of the swords, managing to deflect the other’s slice with her blades before darting forward, using the fact that its whole karking arm was a sword to get up beside it and cut deep into flesh and circuitry. She angled, driving the blade round toward the spinal column. If it was still biological it should just-

The cyborg fell with a half mechanical screech that made Zuza’s ears ring but she stepped away, keeping light on her feet as the other approached once again. It swung wide again, intentional to push her back but…

Well, that was an idea. The mercenary turned on a heel, gears whirring in her own mind.

Foxen had had the wherewithal to step backwards, but his weapon was underfoot of the cyborgs. They were close, but a small arm wrapped around the closest one's throat.

Zuza wasn’t particularly strong, but she jumped, using the small point of contact to drag the cyborg back. It twisted in an attempt to reach her, binary whirrs spitting at her from its replaced vocal box.

Unfortunately, the one making the wide swing had been in the midst of another blow.

Struck by its fellow, it fell to the floor with Zuza still attached. She grunted, rolling away hastily and missing its blade slamming into the floor beside her by a hair. Scrambling to her feet, she cast a glance toward Foxen, yelling between heavy breaths.

“Foxen! Come on! Move!”

The other had turned around, prioritising the larger threat, but Zuza could feel her muscles burning. It wasn’t too much yet, but they were both undamaged. Kriff. The one from the beginning, was trying to drag itself forward with its arms, closing off the space they had to run. That she had to manoeuvre in. Especially with Foxen only moving a small amount, she couldn’t even use the space he was in. Not without risking a swing catching him instead.

Kark kark kark kark-

Foxen slowly tilted his head, watching as if through a screen. Zuza dipped under the arm of one of them again, observing the weirdly timed twist she made that saved her from having her foot amputated.

Another 2.31 inches and it would have at least severed her tendon.

He unclenched his jaw, mechanically, piece by piece to relieve sections of muscle, releasing his movement from the mental cage they’d been encased in.

Foxen’s first move was to slip his fingers through the rings of his Kyuzo Petar, clenching the hand into a fist. His left hand was mangled but thankfully, he was dominant in the right. It meant he could use full capacity to drive the into the divot of the neck where the spine connects to the brain.

The cyborg dropped, Zuza too busy to have noticed it on her flank as the other swung more and more furiously. She fluttered from side to side, waiting for an entrance. She heard the crash, glancing sideways in shock and hissing in pain as she missed a step in the bladed dance she’d been sharing. It was a shallow cut, across the width of her stomach, but her flight suit saved her from being gutted. Her back finally hit the wall and Zuza dropped down, ducking beneath the blade and wincing at the scrape of metal on metal, clicking to split her Vibroabir into its two daggers so she could wield it much smaller. She rolled forward, a cry escaping her throat but drove the dagger into its ankle.

Just as Foxen finished ripping the Petar from between the spinal nodules of the cyborg and had swung round himself, he then drove the blade into its back between the third and fourth rib toward the centre. The heart must have been mechanical in nature judging from the crack it made against the blade, but that simply led to a quicker end as its circuitry failed. It spasmed against him for a moment before he pushed it sideways.

Zuza grimaced at the crash of the cyborg hitting the floor before laughing slightly.

“That was pretty close there.”

Foxen pointed at her dagger, still alight with electricity.

Zuza frowned, looking down at it. She ran through the events leading up to the fight but shook her head, not understanding why but clicking the field off while she worked out what to wrap her wound with.

But Foxen nodded. What? It took her a moment, realising what action she’d done to cause the movement. Turning the electric off.

“Oh, the field? Is that what...” Zuza trailed off, internally cursing. That was bad timing to find out about but he nodded again at her question. Oh well, she knew now. “I won’t turn it on again.”

He made a small noise, a hrm or...something. Zuza was already moving to pull the torso piece of her armour off. The wound was superficial but still bleeding and it kriffing hurt. She tore her shirt, using the vibroblade while deactivated to make the cuts so she could use the fabric as a bandage. There was already blood on the shirt but it’d do for putting pressure.

The other cyborg was slowly approaching but a throwing knife was embedded into its skull. Foxen waited patiently as Zuza bound her wound, pulling the jacket back on after and clambering to her feet.

They managed to navigate to the core with relative ease after that. The guard patrols switched paths and patterns but slow and steady progress worked in their favour as the pair remained close.

The core room itself was underwhelming in Zuza’s mind, a very simple room that resembled the server rooms on the Voidbreaker II. Oh well.

At least the power source was obvious. Faulty wiring had caused the protections to be little more than a wisp of smoke in terms of protection and Zuza reached forward, grasping the nodule. The Collective were effective in their creations. This wasn’t the only thing powering the station but without it the other batteries would run dry.

Or so Zig had said.

She looked to Foxen, waiting for a confirming nod before yanking on the power source. It came free with surprising ease. Though it had had three encasings that were electronically locked before whatever breaker had lost connection to those so it made more sense.

“Right, let’s go-” Zuza froze for a moment as the building became silent. “Uh oh…”

A shuddering creak echoed from some forgotten corner. Crashes followed.

The Arconan pair broke into a sprint.

Blaster shots, buzzsaw blades, and other bits of shrapnel flew over their heads.

Or at least over her head. Foxen wasn't so lucky, being so karking huge, and a much bigger target. Lots of small wounds appeared on his headtails as they ran, dodging and leaping and climbing over obsolete obstacles of metal and slag. One bolt crashed into his back, but thankfully his jetpack seemed to take the brunt of it; and it didn't explode, so that was pretty nice a bonus.

The noise of metallic and flesh footsteps became a roar, especially as the factory fell quieter around them without the main power source. Foxen had tossed an EMP grenade over his shoulder as they left the control room, effectively frying all the rest. Now the foundry was ghostly, and the sounds that followed them all the more potent for it.

Zuza had no idea where they were even running to. She was hopelessly lost, couldn't recall the schematics of this place they'd studied. Foxen seemed to have no such issue, grabbing her arm at one point to redirect and taking the lead. They ran, and eventually, came to a wall.

That was it. Just a bloody wall. The opposite wall of the factory, sheer blackened steel all the way up to the catwalks above and then to the broken ceiling and crumbling girders. The Human stared at it dumbfounded for a moment before twisting back around, looking for some exit or secret.

"What do we do?" she asked, assuming the Nautolan had a plan. He was messing with his jetpack, and it sparked, engine blown a hole in. The man hissed quietly, then began looking around too.

So Plan Aurek was scrapped, then.

Hopping from foot to foot, Zuza craned her neck back, spurred by adrenaline and the sound of their enemies -- a lot of them, not just one big machine or something -- growing. They weren't that far off.

"What if, uh, I got it! Throw me!" She pointed up at the catwalk. "You're strong enough, right? That can work! I'll lead them away from up there and you can sneak out."

And she'd get to fly, kinda.

But Foxen wasn't looking at her like he appreciated her awesome idea. He was looking at her like she was an idiot. Which, hey. Rude. He snapped his pad out, typing at the speed of light and sticking it in her face.

Bodies are NOT aerodynamic. CLIMB, Lottson.

"Climb what?"

The hulking Nautolan gestured for her to wait, then backed up a pace. He drew more throwing knives. And another and another. Then he aimed, arm cocking back, chambered.

Fwoo--CLANNNRRkkrrrrr! went four remaining blades, one after another after another. They stuck out of the metal of the wall a good bit each, embedded by sheer force, each about the same width apart. Altogether, they made what could've been recklessly called handholds up to the catwalk.

Zuza was so down for that plan.

Though the first one was kinda high.

"You gonna throw me up to that one?"

She got another grunt in response, this one seeming much more annoyed. Nonetheless, Foxen did move over to the wall and put his back towards it, cupping his hands together in front of him to make a stirrup and crouching in the familiar position of giving someone a boost.

Or throwing them.

"Frak yes, let's go," the Human said, glancing over her shoulder for their enemy. Sheathing her blades, she tossed her hair out of her face, jumped in place a bit, then blew out a breath and ran straight for Foxen.

Her leg kicked up, foot smashing solidly into the meat of his hands as she pushed off with the other. Then her stomach jerked up to her tonsils with the sudden momentum of the Nautolan lifting back to his full height and tossing at the same time. Zuza sailed upwards, yelping and laughing, and had to scramble to actually grab the damn knife instead of just enjoying it. The metal cut into her hand, since it had no proper gripping handle, not crafted for this sort of thing, but that was fine. She ignored the pain, dangling for a moment before she got her feet against the wall and walked herself up, breath puffing hard.

It was almost a full jump to the next one, and still barely any space for two hands to grip, and nothing but the flat surface for her feet. She scrabbled, but managed, an extra strength bolstering her leaping muscles, pulling herself up again and again.

Below, a gunshot fired.

The sudden noise nearly had her falling. The Human twisted to look back down, seeing Foxen well advanced from the wall and holding a rigid posture while firing one pistol. She followed where he aimed to see the whole mass of cyborgs and Technocrats climbing over vats and around piping and belts to converge on them, like some junkyard undead tidal wave. Every time Foxen shot one of them dropped, usually taking a few others with it because of where it was placed, but that was nothing to the whole.

He'd run out of bullets or be overtaken before making a dent.

"Foxen!" she yelled down, and cursed, not sure how to help. She had to get up. Scowling, Zuza turned back to her task, pushing her muscles harder, hands slipping with blood that spattered on her face, knees bruising. Higher, higher, so close!

The Human made it to the last knife-hand, then dangled a moment before with a last surge of strength and determination throwing herself for the catwalk. She slammed into it around the ribs, scrabbling to get her fingers in the grating before she slid all the way back off, legs kicking in open air. Clawing up like a kowakian monkey-lizard, she got her knees onto solid ground -- metal, whatever -- and panted raggedly.

No time for resting.

Jumping up, Zuza started shouting, sprinting down the catwalk back towards the center of the factory, banging her rifle on the handrails. "HEY, HEY! UP HERE! HIIII! COME AND GET ME IM THE ENEMY UP HERE! GETTING AWAY! YOOOO!"

Her taunts echoed downwards, and while she saw they caught some attention, blaster arms and rotating heads turning towards her, it wasn't hardly all of them. Her plan wasn't working!

She'd basically left Foxen for dead.

No!

"Kriff!" exclaimed the Human, chest rapidly falling, brown eyes wide, looking between her rifle and the mass of cyborgs in a moment of pure panic. The sounds of the gunshots changed, and she turned to see a ways back against the wall as Foxen fired a different weapon now, perhaps the other out of ammo. Couldn't he climb the wall too? Why did he let her just go? This was such a bad plan! It never would've worked! Why didn't he suggest something better? Why save her?

Her eyes skittered over now unmoving hanging chains and massive buckets, like the one he'd shot down to protect her, and another idea sparked.

No think just do!

Holstering her blaster, the Human broke into a run again, back the way she'd come. She took a pale silvery grip into her hand, bloodied palms slipping over roughly carved birds in the hilt.

And ignited the blade, aquamarine light spearing the red and orange, choking smog darkness.

She ran, then jumped, snatching onto the thick chain that held one bucket and hanging on tight. She slashed out with her lightsaber.

And cut through the line of chain above, that hooked them all together into the mechanism.

"FOOOOooooooxEeEEEENNN!" she screamed as the whole assembly dropped, sharply at first before the chain pulled taut and then the bucket was swinging like a pendulum racing right by where the Mandalorian was backed up. "GRAAAAB OOOOON!"

Everything was too much of a blur for her to see how he reacted. She was busy swinging like a wrecking ball towards the ground, stomach lodged up in her nose, air whistling past her face, holding on for dear life.

It was great.

She did feel a weight grab on, and squinted open her eyes to see the big black Nautolan swinging around as he precariously hauled himself up the bucket and to the chain, looking at her like she was crazy. Or maybe not. Hard to tell with those eyes.

They skimmed over the mechanical zombies, and then away, up and over, the opposite apex of her arc. She laughed wildly, happy in success. They'd get away.

And then they started to fall back down.

Because of course they would.

Kriff.

She didn't get a chance to yell about not having thought this all the way through. Maybe they could hop down closer and run again--

Foxen grabbed her. Full on just grabbed her, yanking her into his arms. She yelped, and then yelled when he just let go. They dropped into open air.

And then a pair of silver metal wings shot out on either side of him with a button press, and they were actually flying.

"THISISAWESOME!" Zuza shrieked, nauseous as her stomach kept flip flopping, suddenly arrested again from the jetpack's wings catching the air. They glided over the enemy crowd, then further, back towards the core, further than that. The engine wasn't working, but the wings held, and it let them soar in a low plane far enough away to give them room to breathe.

They nearly crashed into a vat, but did touch down otherwise safely in a bit of a rough tumble. As soon as ground was underfoot, Foxen dropped her on her ass, making grunts and hissing noises and gesturing for her to follow. The intent was clear.

Run.

They kept karking running. All the way back through the rest of the factory, sped on by knowing they'd only evaded the hoard, not escaped. They climbed and burst their way out into the Nancoran badlands, hot and dry and craggy, and Foxen pointed back in the direction of where they'd hidden the ship. They were both winded by that point, Zuza visibly moreso than Foxen. Still had to keep going though.

"H-hey," the Human said eventually, a few 'kilometers' into their hike. "Nice moves."

The Mandalorian shot her a look. He took out his datapad while jogging, and somehow, his message still didn't have a single error.

Confirm. Not bad yourself. Reckless and idiotic, but serviceable bladework. And thank you for coming back for me too.

Do not reply to me in writing again. Seeing the atrocity will just reset my 1 oz of respect for you as a combatant.

Zuza stuck her tongue out at him and got sand in her mouth for it.

Worth it.