In space, none can hear you scream.That of course does not mean that you can't witness spectacles among the stars.Particularly explosive ones.In a Galaxy Far, Far Away...
Were the vacuum of space to be filled with sound, the sector we deign to look upon would be humming with large engines, 'pew'ing and 'blam'ing from unending blaster fire, and exploding along with the battle crafts falling in combat. The starlit mess was the latest mess to stem from Imperial breakdown.
With wide-scale defeat caused by the re-emerging of the Jedi, the Empire had been fractured. Their ranks divided as they came to oppose one another in the ensuing disarray.
Which brings us the cacophony of explosions and blaster fire.
It is unfortunate that the vacuum of space makes this warfare go unheard.
... Let's fix that issue...A White Flash...
One blink, and the fleets were disappeared.
Life was good.
Alluria hummed cheerfully as she dusted her client's couch from top to bottom. Easier said than done being only six inches tall but height deficient shark maid had reason to have her spirits up.
Kelly was off-planet to compete, though Alluria didn't really care for what. At least that super strong blowhard Rosinda, always one to show off her 'majesty' and 'greatness' (get an ego-check, lady!), went off with her. The giant monster couple of Saber and Natasha were off to see the sights in the former's home country of France, ensuring their stomping around was someone else's problem. Her neighbor Opal was also off on a business trip with Cthulhu himself. Alluria was actually curious about the stoic secretary's ventures. There was also zero sign of either Zora or Eris. Being on the clock, the going-ons of the ethereal seductress or the prideful predator were of no concern to her.
And with the grey and red dragoness Qetesh curled up and sound asleep like a kitten (right down to the appropriate size, lucky hussie with those powers of hers p>~<p) on the couch's arm rest, Alluria's day was throughly clear of any and all shenanigans. Life was good.
It would stay good.
Which was extra since this gig was going to pay well.Then it stopped being good.
As she skipped over to the final side of the green couch, the very final portion of the whole living room, she felt a slight irritation. Like a rough shove. Only coarse. And without any actual push.
It really wouldn't bother her. But her ears were picking up a lot. Yet she couldn't quite see or feel what it was the cause.
Then Alluria made the mistake of looking down. Something tiny (that was saying a lot!), raced under her skirt.
The uniformed shark girl quickly looked over her shoulder. Tiny thingies that kinda looked like triangles cruised along under her tail (barely bigger than her fingernail), which was raised stiff in shock. Squinting a bit, she spotted some specks encircling the tiny triangles. Intently looking on, her ears could now make out the -whoosh- and -vrooms- the mysterious miniature visitors.
One day of calm she asked for. Why. Just why.
Maybe there's be little disruption from this random interruption.
The fleets ceased their fire in confusion. All around them, the confining infinities of outer space were replaced with a more finite lair with large stretches of confusingly garish colors or patterns. Above them, something seemed to sway with life.
The former allies were joined once again in sheer awe and mutual befuddlement.
All the same, the all parties had a battle to resume.
Locked and loaded, both sides resolved to ignore the scenery change and resume fire.
Oh how naive the Alluria of five seconds ago turn out to be. High-pitched squeals erupted from the funny shapes, which began to zoom around her like gnats and flies. Their noises irritating her ears, her eyes swearing that brief flashes of red and green could be made out from the onslaught of annoyance.
Her ears were picking up on a lot of nothing. Is this what army of her would sound to a normal person?
Dismissing her thoughts, the miffed meido glances upward. Greeting her vision are tiny flashes, like firecrackers raining upon fireworks atop a triangular thingy. Past the faint booms and crackles, the thing too small to describe zips past the otherwise unnoticed chaos. The downed craft nails Alluria between the eyes, barely impacting the bewildered tiny.
Alluria remains still before blinking back with irritation. Her eyes were beginning to sting ever so slightly. Something unpleasantly familiar hit her nose as well. It was barely a trace but she couldn't help thinking back to the odd mechanic or two that employed her service. Realizing that smoke and oil were her latest minuscule grievance to her day, Alluria shook her head and let the scraped triangle on it fly apart and away.
Fed up with the action around her, the soft-spoken maid simply turned tail and walked over to her nag of supplies nearby. She made her way single-file. Sternly, single-file, unflinching. Reaching in, Alluria stuffed her feather duster back in.
Digging into her supplies, Alluria's hand reaches down to the very bottom of her bag. Feeling out what she needs at long last, the frill-dressed madam ring her arm out. In her hand is a simple wooden cylinder. Alluria swings her hand out, the cylinder expands out at each end into a simple staff. An extra adjustment later, and the shark maid was armed with her trusty broom.
The Imperial remnants had provoked the highest of the high. A goddess beyond the Imperial comprehension brought upon her wrath. She was resigned to clean up the ensuing carnage.
Alluria races back into the action.
An explosion rings out, a series of scrap mildly disturbs the cloth of her panties. Scrap hits the ground.
Something in the sudden action caught the fleets' collective attention. And all the whirring, buzzing, whoosing, zooming, and booming was suddenly drawn upon her. Alliuria roared proudly at the challenge.
Nearby, a curled-up Qetesh simply slept through the whole thing. The dragon remained curled like a kitten, the ordeal below far beyond her notice.
---Not close but not far...
She woke surrounded by total blankness. Not darkness, no. Or even blackness for that matter. The skies she woke to were a monotonous pink while the ground beneath her, as she quickly came to notice, was nothing but flat blue plains.
Clad in black, the surviving pilot is pleasantly surprised by her survival. Getting a feel for the smooth and firm surface beneath her, she stands.
The pilot removes her helmet, the head gear in question having the Imperial symbol imprinted across each end of its forehead in white while red lines ran under its eyes like tears. Her status as an Ace TIE Fighter pilot worthless in her current predicament, the survivor tosses her helmet to the wayside.
Seeing nothing better to do, the former piloting ace walks on. There had to be something to live off of.
Peering into the distance, the sole ex-Imperial spots a nature caving along the ground ahead, heralded by a vague blackness. A hope for refuge awaited down the clear path.
And so, the pilot wandered forth. Hope was all she had left.
Feeling something faint, Alluria spares a moment to rub her panties. She did not appreciate would could possibly be an itch down there.