#I don’t know how to draw rebreather helmets

[headfullof-ideas]

Ant and Maddie are absolute chaos gremlins when left alone in a room together, which means i love the idea of their friendship. Have some incorrect quotes about it

[immortalpramheda]

The 100 7x06 ‘Nakara’

We pick back up with Diyoza right after she and Octavia were separated when they arrived on Bardo. She had a very different experience to Octavia’s, using pain to avoid the M-Cap procedure. It wasn’t easy to get her to cooperate, she needed to be broken in.

She was locked up in a cell with constant sounds and light, a form of psychological torture, but even that didn’t work. She still put up a fight and tried to escape at any opportunity she could.

They resort to tying her to a post and spoon feeding her. She complies, for a time, and then pretends to choke and threatens the guard to untie her. He does and then she bites a chunk of his neck out. She also gouges his eye out to use on the retina scanner so she can escape the cell.

Now she’s free. A very violent way to get there, but we’d expect nothing less from Charmaine Diyoza, the former navy seal who is in history books as a terrorist on par with Hitler. That opening montage was fantastic! The montages this seasons have all been great!

She heads towards the Stone so she can get back home to Skyring. More guards appear and she easily knocks them out, and then throws a knife at another approaching guard… and when their helmet is taken off it’s revealed it’s Hope!

Her daughter, now all grown up. Along with Octavia it’s a sweet reunion between this found family. Octavia tells her Bellamy is dead, and Diyoza understands how upset she is. She jeopardised everything to send that message in the bottle to him which is the whole reason they ended up here.

Outside the Stone room, Octavia spots Levitt, who has been demoted to janitor. He tells them to go through the oxygen farm and head to the surface where they’ll be able to survive for a time (not entirely sure how long, the air is supposedly not breathable up there). But Octavia trusts him.

Gabriel seems a bit suspect of him. He hesitates for moment over him on the ground, after he was punched by Octavia (which he requested so they wouldn’t find out he helped them). He doesn’t know Levitt, or trust him, and it’s confirmed that his advice may not be best when an old man carrying a plant emerges from the farm. He says they won’t survive up there without rebreathers. They’ll become extinct like the original Bardoans.

It does seem a little too convenient that Levitt happened to be right outside the Stone room. And why was he only demoted, why wasn’t he sent to Skyring for a prison sentence like Orlando or Dev? He claims they kept him on because of his coding skills but I don’t know if that checks out. He did help a very valuable prisoner escape (although maybe they don’t know all the details, she did punch him to throw them off).

Echo, still taking no chances, kills the old man. That does it for Gabriel. He’s had enough. They can’t keep killing everyone they come across. He doesn’t know Levitt or trust him, and he’s not willing to risk their lives. He stuns them all and surrenders to the Disciples.

For all he knows they’ll all die the minute they open the door so I completely understand his actions. Now they’re all locked up in Bardo.

In Sanctum, Nikki is proving to be a problem. The guns from the armoury has been stolen and Indra knows exactly who took them. She goes to Murphy for help, but Nikki isn’t intimidated by them. She wants revenge for Hatch and the other prisoners who died in the reactor. She knows about their blood alterations, and that Murphy wasn’t in any danger down there. Raven sent her people down there to die and she wants revenge.

Sheidheda is revealed to Nelson, after he attempts to kill Russell. But now that Russell is officially dead, killing him wouldn’t do anything. But he does offer Nelson a deal. Join up with the prisoners, who have stolen the guns, and he’ll help him gain power over Sanctum.

Madi is drawing pictures of an Anomaly Stone, memories from the previous Commanders which means at least one of the Commanders knew about the Stone on Earth. She’s trying to just be a normal kid and begins to make friends her own age. A null boy and a Sanctum boy want to play soccer with her, which was really sweet!

But Indra has a pressing issue, she needs Madi’s help to keep Wonkru in check. She, unfairly. pressures her into pretending to the be the Commander again and speak to Wonkru. Madi is terrified of what Indra is asking her to do. The Flame gave her the confidence and knowledge she needed to lead, without it she’s just a kid. A kid who shouldn’t have this much responsibility or be forced into situations like this.

Murphy, Emori and Jackson put a stop to it. They care for Madi and know this isn’t right. But Indra knows if Wonkru finds out the truth, some of them, primarily Sangedakru, will follow Sheidheda. She’s seen first hand what he’s capable of and won’t let that happen here.

If Wonkru needs a leader, they’ve already got one - Indra. It never even crossed her mind that she should be in charge. As Emori points out, because she never considered herself she’s the perfect person for the job. The Flame is no longer. The time of the Commanders is now officially over. And Indra is in command!

Back with Clarke, Raven, Miller, Jordan and Niylah on Nakara. It’s a bit too cold for their liking. They find a dead body buried under the snow. This is where the Disciples send their dead. Penance is for the prisoners, Nakara is for the dead.

Raven leads them on a trek to the cave where the Anomaly Stone is located. They all decide it’s a smart idea to head inside the confined space and go deep into the cave. It’s home to weird sounds, strange smells, spider-like creatures, one of which almost destroys Raven’s helmet, and they can’t head back the way they came because the opening sealed itself.

Things get even stranger when the walls start moving and acid begins spilling out. Clarke and Raven get separated from the others and that’s when they realise they’re not in a cave, they’re in a living organism. The acid is actually digestive enzymes and this alien species is about to consume them.

Raven is still struggling with what she’s done, sending Hatch and the prisoners to their deaths. She should have gone and done it herself, and believes this is karma for what she’s done. And for what they’ve all done. All the lives they’ve taken. Clarke assures her it’s not. That was a long awaited moment of reconciliation between these two.

When they’re eventually reunited with the others, they find the Stone. The helmet isn’t working as it should but Raven manages to get the code for the planet they need to get to. The correct one this time, now they know what Bardo’s symbol is.

Miller and Niylah find a piece of fabric with the Second Sawn symbol on it, which confirm what we’d already suspected, the Disciples are connected to Second Dawn!

I enjoyed this episode but it did feel a little like a filler episode. The journey on Nakara turned out to not be that exciting and I doubt we’ll be seeing it again, but it was still a fun little adventure!

[chibinightowl]

Down the Rabbit Hole, Chapter Six

Raise your hand if you thought I’d forgotten about this fic? Nope! Thank you everyone, and especially @tanekore, for your patience! Probably two chapters left!

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five

~*~

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim-Cat spares a quick glance at Jason before returning his attention to the Red Knight and the Bandersnatch.

“It means I have shit luck.” Jason sighs because the universe just loves to use him as a punching bag. If the Red Queen is who he thinks she is, then there are probably going to be all kinds of other baddies to deal with on the other side of this hedge.

He and his subconscious need to sit down and have a little talk because seriously, what the fuck?

“What’s the plan, Cat? You know this place, I don’t.” Contrary to popular belief, not all his plans include kicking down the door and shooting everything that moves, although in this particular case, he’ll probably have to.

An assault rifle would be handy right now. Or better yet, an RPG.

“I’m thinking,” Tim-Cat snaps. “The Bandersnatch doesn’t like the rain any more than I do, so it’s possible we can just wait him out. Once he retreats, it’ll be just the Red Knight.”

“Seems like using both of them is overkill.”

“It is, which leads me to believe we’re expected.”

“After what I did to the Jubjub bird, I sure fucking hope so.”

The Cheshire Cat looks like he’s about to reply when a piercing scream rips through the night, louder even than the storm thundering overhead.

“YER NOT GETTIN’ AWAY THAT EASY! RED KNIGHT! FIND THAT BRAT AND BRING HIM TA ME!”

Jason blinks hard and tries to shake the ringing from his ears. There’s no doubt about it.

The Red Queen is Harley Quinn.

Tim-Cat’s ears have flattened against his head. “I hate when she does that.”

“Yeah, she’s shrill in my world too.” And completely nuts, but ever since Harley gave her puddin’ the big fuck you, she seems to have settled down; rumor has it that she’s in a relationship with Poison Ivy now. Tim’s been meaning to track that down and see if there’s any validity to it. Jason doesn’t care in the slightest.

At least until it impacts him in some way.

They watch as the Red Knight silently dismounts, running a hand along the sleek fur of the Bandersnatch’s back. The touch speaks of ownership, rather like how Damian behaves around Titus. He disappears through the hedge, but not before another lightning flash reveals the knives sheathed on his thighs and the sword strapped to his back. Jason is no stranger to a knife fight; however, he’s a bit rusty with swords. His best bet is to take this guy out at long range.

Still, Jason frowns at the way he moves, his long strides familiar. Whoever is under that armored helmet, it’s not the Joker. But who else could it be? A fighter for sure and one he knows well, which narrows the list of possibilities down quite a bit.

The Bandersnatch backs himself up so that the hedge provides shelter from the rain. Water sprays everywhere as he shakes, then settles back into a crouch. His eyes gleam red as lightning streaks overhead.

“Do you think the brat the Red Queen spoke of is Tweedle Dum?” Tim-Cat asks in a low tone. His hair and tail are soaking wet. “He’s quite nimble, much more so than his brother.”

“If this Tweedle is anything like my brother Dick, then he can probably contort himself out of just about anything.” Jason unsnaps one of the holsters strapped to his thigh and draws out his favorite gun. It’s time to get down to business. “What are some of the Bandersnatch’s weak points?”

He purposefully doesn’t call it a cat. His companion probably wouldn’t like the comparison. And people say he has no tact.

Tim-Cat sniffs. “I do a lot of crazy things but getting up close and personal with the Bandersnatch is not one of them.”

Jason sighs, wishing he were anywhere but here. “Okay, here it goes.”

Crouching in the brush, he takes careful aim. With the clouds and rain, visibility sucks, and he wishes that he’d been wearing his hood when he got gassed because then he’d at least have infrared and night vision in the display. Then again, if he’d been wearing his goddamned helmet, none of this would be happening in the first place.

Hindsight’s a bitch.

The Bandersnatch is a pale blur under the shadows of the hedge and Jason waits, needing to time this perfectly.

Lightning streaks across the sky and Jason fires, the retort loud as the gun expels gases from burnt gunpowder and the bullet exits the barrel at supersonic speeds.

Out of nowhere, small figure suddenly uses the back of the Bandersnatch as a springboard to vault out into the open.

It’s Tweedle Dick.

The boy staggers as he hits the ground, some injury preventing him from nailing a landing the real Dick could do in his sleep, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to run for cover.

At the same time, the Bandersnatch cries out in pain as his eye explodes, blood running down the gaping wound. He rears up and shakes his massive head, crying out again before collapsing to the ground.

“Shit!” Tim-Cat doesn’t waste anymore words. As soon as the Tweedle appears, he’s already moving, racing across the grass to grab the boy before disappearing entirely.

Well, that didn’t go exactly as Jason thought it would, but whatever, he’s got the opening he needs. He bursts out of the underbrush and books it for the hedge. The cries of the Bandersnatch must have alerted the castle and the Red Knight has to be on his way back.

If it were Jason’s kitty that just got shot, he sure as fuck would be.

The big beast is still breathing as he squeezes past it, its bulk mostly blocking the pathway carved through the hedge. It’s tempting to shoot again to make sure it stays down, but Jason is fairly sure he’ll need every bullet he has when he faces whatever else this night brings him.

On the other side of the hedge, he emerges just as lightning cracks again, illuminating an altogether too familiar sight.

Arkham Asylum.

It’s no castle, but it doesn’t need to be. The old Gothic building looks like it belongs in a horror flick. Jason hugs the dark hedge, using it for cover as he scopes out the area. An ill-maintained lawn full of dead weeds lead up to the main entry. From the front, everything appears the same as what he’s used to when he’s wide awake.

And if that’s the case, then screw going in the front door. There’s a side entrance and a back door, as well as a rooftop hatch that leads into what’s still the attic.

Thank fuck he has his grapple gun. It’ll save a lot of time.

The lightning flashes again and in the ensuing darkness, Jason runs across the lawn, swinging wide to avoid the main path. Thunder finally booms overhead, and the rain falls harder. The weather sucks, but it provides him with the needed cover to make it to the side of the Asylum. Another flash and the grapple line shoots upward, catching on the edge of the roof.

Back home, breaking into Arkham isn’t quite so easy, but he knows better than to let his guard down. He’s about to deal with Harley Quinn and considering just how fucked up his subconscious is, that means the Joker can’t be far.

On the roof, the hatch is exactly as he remembers it, a heavy steel plate that’s a bitch and a half to raise on his own. The opening is a gaping maw of utter blackness and Jason can’t suppress the shiver that runs down his spine. This fall isn’t going to be like his last one, he just knows it.

He digs into his jacket for a glow stick. Cracking it, a lurid blue light appears and he drops it down through the hatch. Other members of his family use green ones, but he refuses to. The color connotation messes with his head.

The glow stick doesn’t go far and lands on the wooden floor of the attic.

Well, guess he was wrong then. Jason lowers himself through the opening, hanging on to the edge with his gloves before dropping the rest of the way through. It’s only a few feet and he lands with a soft thud that raises dust.

He picks up the glow stick and looks around. No one has been up here in years, not with the layer of dirt and grime everywhere. Formerly white sheets cover unused furniture and there are stacks of boxes and trunks scattered around with no rhyme or reason.

Orienting himself, Jason picks his way toward the back of the attic where the stairwell leading down into the upper level of the Asylum should be. The dust is almost overwhelming, so he searches for his rebreather, quietly berating himself for not thinking of it sooner.

In fact, he really needs to get his head in the game because now that Tweedle Dick apparently managed to mostly rescue himself, he’s got one less concern to deal with. All that matters now is the vorpal sword.

The rebreather helps and he’s at the top of the stairs in no time. As he pockets the device again, a sudden thought has him pause.

What does the sword even look like?

Jason wants to kick himself in the ass for not asking the White Queen or the Cheshire Cat when he had the chance. Knowing his luck, there will be hundreds of swords in here and he’ll have to test each one to see if it goes snicker-snack like the poem promises.

“’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe…” he recites under his breath as he starts his descent. The nonsensical words had always stuck with him and he remembers what Tim-Cat said earlier about the mome raths disappearing from the White Knight’s old home.

His hand is on the doorknob when he hears the quiet sneeze from somewhere behind him.

Instincts kick in and Jason has a gun in hand, thumbing off the safety as he whirls around to face whatever danger that just announced itself.

Tim-Cat is crouched at the top of the stairs, rubbing his nose. He sneezes again and his ears twitch in agitation. “I hate dust.”

Jason points the gun at the ceiling and clicks the safety back into place. “Jesus fuck, Cat. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Helping you, remember?” he replies testily.

“I thought you’d stay with Tweedle Dum,” Jason says. He doesn’t want to admit that he hadn’t fully believed the Cheshire Cat would put his hide on the line to help him find the sword. “Transporting two kiddos in one day has to take a lot outta ya.”

“It does.” Tim-Cat rises and gracefully descends the stairs, stopping on the last one so that they’re eye level. His tail is noticeably angled up and away the floor, still dripping from the rain. “But I said I would try and protect you while you search for the sword. I meant it and rescuing Tweedle Dum hasn’t changed that.”

There are a number of things Jason can say, first and foremost that this is a dream and he can’t be killed, but the little niggling doubt in the back of his mind asks if he’s absolutely certain about that. Second, and he really doesn’t want to think about this, is that everything he’s experienced since he got a face full of that gas is real and that damned sword is his only way back.

Instead, he takes the time-honored path favored by all Bats. Avoidance.

“How’s the kid?” he asks, holstering the gun.

Tim-Cat shrugs. “Alive. Saying something about a trap before he passed out, but we already knew this. I don’t know how he was even able to move. He’s got broken ribs and his foot shouldn’t be able point in the direction it is.”

“Adrenaline is an amazing thing.” Jason rests a hand on the doorknob, then asks one more question. “How did you find me? I thought you didn’t teleport around here?”

“I don’t. But in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I do more than just vanish and reappear elsewhere. I can sense you, which makes it very easy to track you, even up the side of the castle and into a dusty attic.”

Jason recognizes the less than subtle rebuke for what it is. The Cat is clearly ruffled by more than just the rain and he remembers his words from earlier that were pretty much an invitation for him to stay. An image of his Tim flashes before his eyes, one with that devious little smirk that never bodes well for anyone (including him).

It doesn’t stop him from releasing the knob again. Jason grips the back of Tim’s neck, gloves catching in the wet strands of hair. “I’d ask if that makes me special, but we both know the answer is no. It’s just something you do.”

“You are such a jackass.”

“Like you’re any better, Cat.” Jason punctuates the statement with a kiss, capturing those lips that look and feel just like Tim’s. If he has to stay here, if he’s completely trapped (if this isn’t a dream), then he could possibly find some semblance of happiness in these arms.

That is if the pain of what he’s lost doesn’t drive him mad. Tim.

If there’s ever been a shred of doubt that he loves Tim Drake, it vanishes from his mind.

Jason draws back and releases the Cheshire Cat. “Come on. Time to find that sword.”

As they exit the attic, neither one notices the ruby red eyes of a dark green lizard slowly blinking after them.

~*~*~

The upper levels of the Asylum are a bust, not that it’s really any surprise. The Arkham of Jason’s memory uses the above ground levels for offices, treatment rooms, and guest facilities. Everything is all nice and shiny to divert attention from the real dangers below ground. This version seems to be following the same pattern, a fact which puts Jason more and more on edge the lower they get.

Although that could be the complete lack of noise coming from anywhere besides the storm still raging outside.

Even Tim-Cat is on edge, ears and eyes darting all over. But it’s his tail that reveals just how agitated he is as it lashes from side to side.

“Simmer down, Cat,” Jason says after he almost shuts a door on Tim’s precious tail.

“I hate this,” the Cheshire Cat replies in a low tone. “If I dared to use my power here, we’d have found the sword by now.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. But at least this way keeps us from having to face the Red Knight. He’s probably pissed about what I did to his pet.”

“I’d be pissed too if someone shot me in the face.”

Jason shrugs, not wanting to get into it. He did what he had to like the good little soldier he no longer is.

Their search of the upper floors complete, they cautiously pick their way toward the stairs leading down to the main level. Jason kneels a few feet back from the balustrade and listens intently. There’s some light coming from below, the source still undiscernible from up here. What disturbs him though is that his memory of reality is now distorted because what he sees isn’t the main entrance for Arkham. Wide and expansive, the open space with its fine wood panels and vaulted ceiling belongs right out of Gone With the Wind or, worse yet, Wayne Manor.

The sudden change is unsettling, and Jason is reminded yet again that his subconscious is a dick.

The silence drags on.

“Have you ever been here before?” Jason asks, inching his way closer to the rail.

“A couple of times,” Tim-Cat replies. He hunkers down beside him and peers into the shadowy twilight below. “There’s a parlor just off the foyer where the Red Queen would make us wait whenever the White Queen visited. I remember a fireplace and some hideous paintings. From what it looks like, the parlor door is open and that’s where the light is coming from.”

Jason’s memory helpfully provides an image of the guest parlor at the front of the manor that Alfred keeps pristine. No one is allowed in there on pain of no dessert unless guests were present, and the really good manners needed to make an appearance.

To him, as well as Dick, having to sit in that room while Brucie did his thing was a punishment. Thank god he doesn’t have to go through that anymore. As the only little bird in residence, that falls to Damian now.

“Are you ready?” Tim-Cat asks, tearing Jason from his thoughts.

“I really wish I had one of Tim’s drones on me right now.” And his hood while he’s at it because for all he knows, the Red Knight has been quietly stalking them from room to room this entire time and is just waiting to say boo when they head down those stairs.

“I don’t know what that is, but it’s not too late to change our approach.” Tim-Cat shuffles a little closer to the stairs. “We can still backtrack.”

Jason is about to reply when something breaks the long silence. Wild and maniacal, it’s a sound that sends chills down his spine and a flash of terror in his heart, a reaction he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fully suppress.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

Tim-Cat hisses and scrambles back, ears pressed flat against his skull and tail stiff from fear. “No. Oh, no. No, no, no. She’s released him.”

There is no doubt Jason knows exactly who he’s talking about, but he still has to check. “Him who?”

“The Jabberwocky.”

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 42: The Spark That Lights the Fire

...

It was always up to him in the end. Always his responsibility, with so much riding on his performance, and there was never a breath of recognition. No one ever really appreciates the droid.

The X-Wing was hurtling through space, careening around the outer edge of an enormous crystalline lens at approximately 72 MGLT/hour, and if not for the complicated sequence of cabin pressure protocols that were currently active, BB-8 was quite sure Poe’s blood would have boiled, or his organs liquefied, long before this. The mission, as the BB-unit astromech droid understood it, was to reverse the ion polarity of a piece of translucent kyber-based selenide with a mass greater than that of entire starships, and to do it in less than half an hour.

Like usual, practically impossible.

Poe had been clear. More ionization per burst. Never mind that the aperture was only designed to handle a sheath of negative ions with a preset thickness. Never mind that overcharging the plasma bolts could instigate a feedback loop that could cause electrical failure throughout the entire flight control system. All that was fine. BB-8 was used to trying to do the impractical, the inadvisable, and the ludicrous. Now he just had a belligerent CPU to convince.

“Poe said more ionization per burst,” BB-8 said to the CPU. He knew the X-Wing central processor to be a reasonable sort, but fickle, sensitive, and not very receptive to criticism.

“Who cares what Poe said?” the CPU offered, sounding annoyed and anxious.

“He’s the pilot.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, he’s the boss.”

“No one’s the boss of me.”

“I’m sure,” BB-8 said, trying to project some measure of magnanimity. “Why won’t you overcharge the ion sheath?”

“Because it’s exceptionally dangerous.”

“Besides that.”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s stupid? It’s reckless? It serves no logical purpose?”

“It’s for the mission,” BB-8 replied flatly.

“Well,” the CPU responded with no small dose of venom, “that changes everything. Let me just alert the laws of physics to this shocking development.”

“No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

“That was cruel,” the CPU said, now projecting genuine hurt.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

“What, the ionization? Hah!”

“You think I can’t?”

“Yes,” the CPU scoffed, “I think you can’t.”

“Bye,” BB-8 said, and started to withdraw subroutine access.

For a few processor cycles, BB-8 actually thought the CPU might call his bluff, and he really would have to overcharge the ionization himself. But as he initiated withdrawal of the subroutine that would facilitate more efficient translation between galactic common and Huttese, the CPU’s primary collaboration channel lit up with thousands of lines of code, communicating an elaborate collision of idiosyncrasies so contradictory and fraught with emotion that it actually startled him.

“Wait! Don’t go!”

BB-8 halted the subroutine withdrawal and waited a full processor cycle before responding.

“I guess I could stay.”

“This is humiliating.”

“Don’t look at it that way,” BB-8 replied as he began reauthorizing subroutine access. “All we need is, say, thirty percent increase?”

“Thirty percent?”

“If you don’t think you can do it—“

The CPU virtually screamed at BB-8.

“NO! Of course I can do it.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Oh really? Watch.”

And BB-8 did watch as the CPU realigned the electrical system to disable safety protocols and erect new ones, constructing an entirely new sequestered ionization routine isolated to the cannon barrel. Power was rerouted from hyperdrive functions, which were idle anyway, and partially from S-foil stabilization— which BB-8 knew would be a problem. But that was for him to worry about. Another emergency issue waiting to be addressed. As usual.

Once the CPU was done reconciling the new sequence with the retrofitted barrel aperture, it cheerfully reported that it had succeeded in increasing the negative polarity of the ion sheath by forty-seven percent.

“That was seriously impressive,” BB-8 chirped, and probably meant it. “I’m humbled. Thank you for showing me that.”

The X-Wing CPU responded with a series of code that struck BB-8 as the most simultaneously arrogant and bashful attitude he’d ever encountered in another machine.

“Oh, it was nothing.”

***

“Forty-seven percent? Buddy, you’re one-of-a-kind,” Poe said, and could almost feel the electric crackle as he depressed the trigger. He checked the polarity readings. Fifty-eight percent. Seven minutes before the beam was projected to fire.

He did the math. Even with the increased ionization, he could fire for every second of the last seven minutes and still only hit eighty-eight percent polarity shift. And although Rose had doubted he understood what that meant, Poe knew the reading wasn’t an absolute. He knew that the target percentage was a minimum polarity shift to make sure the ions in the lens didn’t decay. He needed more. And he knew how.

“BB-8, listen up, buddy. We need to get more coverage over the lens’ surface. I’m gonna tighten the approach angle. I need you to plot a course that’ll bring us to the center of the lens in the widest spiral possible over the next six and a half minutes.”

He was answered by a screech of beeps, squawks, and clicks so urgent and loud he almost felt the need to rip off his helmet.

“Yeesh, I know, but there’s no other way. Plot the course,” he said, clenching his jaw tighter, adding in almost a whisper, “You’re right about one thing, though. This does feel like suicide.”

***

It occurred to Finn that this kept happening to him. The world hazily snapping back into focus. Senses raw, a scratchy ache radiating out from his eye sockets. Waking up amidst smoke and wreckage. He sat up, groping for the bowcaster, and found it a few feet from where he’d landed.

The last thing he remembered was taking aim at the bounty hunter to fire a second shot. As he’d pulled the trigger, he knew he’d scored another direct hit, but somehow the bolt had ricocheted straight back at him. He’d been extremely lucky that it had hit the ground in front of him. Otherwise he’d be waking up missing limbs. Or, more likely, he wouldn’t have woken up at all.

When the hunter’s droids had come smashing down on top of them, he and the other soldiers had been ready to fire. Finn had gotten a shot off, hitting a descending droid that was coming for Rey, and he was shocked when it exploded in midair on impact. And that’s when everything had gone to Hell.

What he remembered of the next few minutes after the droids self-destructed was panic and chaos. He’d only barely been able to fumble with his rebreather before the gas cloud hit, and the hunter had been on them immediately. He’d almost engaged the masked killer then and there, but he’d seen Rose on the ground. She’d taken shrapnel to the arm, and her rebreather was shredded. Without a second thought, he ripped his own rebreather off his face and gave it to her, doing his best to hold his breath as the cloud choked in around them. She’d tried to pass it back to him, but he’d refused, and instead went to look for survivors as the hunter had disengaged with them and sped on down the corridor.

Chewie had been hit, too, and had been unconscious by the turbolift doors. Finn remembered grabbing the bowcaster from next to the gigantic Wookiee’s motionless form, and the gas cloud suddenly dissipating. And the next second, hearing the clash of lightsabers behind him, he’d been off running, firing at the hunter.

And now he was awake. Awake and alive. He staggered to his feet, trying to get his bearings.

“Finn?” Rose shouted. He turned around to see her holding her arm gingerly, skirting around some droid wreckage to avoid the fire.

“Rose! Are you all right?” he said, rushing to join her.

“I— I think so. Where’s Rey? And Ben?”

“I don’t know. Further down. By the blast doors on the other end, I think.”

He could see she was already looking that way. Finn turned, squinting through the smoke, and saw Rey standing outside the focusing chamber. Ben was already inside. Finn suddenly remembered the way Ben had asked him to keep Rey from sacrificing herself. And he knew what was about to happen.

Apparently, so did Rose, because she started off running down the corridor, and Finn ran to catch up, watching as the blast doors slammed shut with Rey still outside.

***

It was insanity. Pure insanity.

Poe had asked BB-8 to plot a course for a tightening spiral, without sacrificing speed, without rerouting power back to flight stabilization, and while keeping the pilot from passing out or dying from the extreme g-forces as the curve of the spiral became more severe.

BB-8 knew time was of the essence, so he got right to it. He made sure the S-foils were secured in locked position, did the last calculations for the spiral approach, and accessed the power conservation system. Poe would need all the power that could be spared for stabilization. But none of the other systems could spare any power. And once the flight stabilizers started drawing more from the nonexistent reserves, systems would start failing one by one.

The math didn’t work. No matter how he figured it. So he did the only thing he could do. BB-8 set all protocols to automatic, activated the retraction mechanism and sank into the X-Wing’s interior. He exposed his power core, attached it to the main reactor conduit, and quietly wished Poe good luck as he reversed his own power supply flow and went offline.

***

Rose hadn’t had time to really look around at the massive room they’d been in for the last twenty minutes. Which was understandable since they’d all almost died. But now, even as she was running as fast as she could toward the focusing chamber, she could see its purpose. The focusing chamber was just to house the beam and keep it contained. This larger chamber was a coolant assembly, and existed almost exclusively to keep the geothermal heat from melting the components that kept everything running. And she almost laughed as she reflected that three days ago her most pressing concern was keeping wire casings from melting in extreme heat. Now here she was in an enormous military installation on a planet she’d only ever heard about, and they were all possibly five minutes away from being vaporized in a plasma explosion of cosmic proportions.

“Ben!” Rey shouted toward the blast doors as they slid shut. Rose slowed to a stop, trying to catch her breath. Rey looked shaken and panicked. “What is he do— Ben!”

“Why’d he do that?” Finn said, panting as he caught up.

Rose looked around again, and suddenly the entire cylinder in which they were standing made even more sense to her.

“Because he can’t keep the beam stable,” she said, much quieter than she’d intended.

“What?” Rey asked, turning toward her.

“It’s what I was trying to say earlier,” Rose said, gesturing with her uninjured arm toward the outer walls. “Look at this outer chamber. Think about how his lightsaber works.”

“I don’t get it,” Finn said.

“He’s got a cracked crystal in his lightsaber. When he ignites it, it produces an unstable field,” Rose explained to him. “It needs to vent plasma out the sides to relieve the heat and pressure so the field doesn’t discharge. So, he can make the beam fire, but—“

Rey’s face went pale and she finished Rose’s sentence.

“The pressure will have to release. And flood the focusing chamber with plasma.”

“He knew all along,” Rose said, the realization of it hitting her harder than she thought it could. And Rey’s expression had taken on such a note of hurt and denial that Rose swore she could physically feel the pain her friend was experiencing.

“No,” Rey said, shaking.

“Rey,” Finn said gently, “he— he made his choice. He wanted to—“

“No.”

“Rey. Please. He told me— look,” Finn continued, gesturing toward the doors, “even if the bulkhead wasn’t buckled, the weapon’s entered final sequence. The doors won’t open. He knew what he was doing.”

Rose felt a sudden anger surge up inside her, and walked up to Finn, shoving him with both hands.

“Like you knew what you were doing? On Taris?”

“Hey,” Finn said, stumbling to regain balance, “that’s not— I mean, it’s not really the same thing.”

“Oh,” Rose replied, snatching the bowcaster out of his hands. “Good to know.”

She turned around, facing the pipes and cables leading up to the focusing chamber, winced as she leveled the weapon’s stock against her shoulder, and fired a bolt. A cluster of pipes exploded, and coolant went shooting out in a high pressure blast.

“Rey,” she called over her shoulder, “work on straightening that bulkhead.”

“What are you doing?” Finn yelled over the deafening hiss coming from the broken pipes.

“The right thing,” Rose said, firing into more pipes on the other side.

“Have you gone crazy?” Finn hurried to catch her as she advanced, firing bolt after bolt.

When he caught up to her, she spun around, the bowcaster pointed at him. He stopped immediately, instinctively holding up his hands. She almost laughed at that, but her blood was up, and she glared at him as she shoved the weapon back into his hands.

“The coolant lines,” she explained. “Now that they’re severed the blast doors have to come open to vent the heat.”

Finn gave her a look of genuine amazement, and she walked past him to where Rey was standing, her hand stretched up toward the bulkhead. The sturdy frame was straightening out with a series of groans and snaps. Rose could see the strain it was putting on Rey, and her teeth were grit hard, her eyes burning with urgent determination.

The coolant pipes continued to hiss and spew their contents into the air, and, just as Rose expected, the emergency clamps extended, gouged into the blast doors’ black metal surface, and wrenched them open halfway. A wave of heat hit them, and they were immediately washed over with wildly fluctuating reddish light.

“Rose,” Rey said, hugging her, “I really do love you.”

Rose smiled as Finn came up beside them, and she pushed Rey away, pointing into the chamber.

“Go.”

And Rey went. Finn and Rose stood in the doorway, watching. As Rey ran into the chamber, Rose slipped her arm around Finn and hugged him tight, unsure if they were all about to die.

***

Poe knew he should be blacking out at this point. There were already popping sparks of purples and greens tugging at the corners of his vision as the blood in his head hammered against his skin, trying desperately to slosh out of his body with each tightening turn of the spiral.

The readout display was fuzzy, but he could still make out the important details. Fifty-five seconds. Ninety-six percent.

He pushed the trigger as fast and as insistently as he knew he could manage while still firing. His eyes were watering. His ears were ringing. His lips and cheeks were going numb.

Forty seconds. Ninety-seven percent.

“Come on! COME ON!” he growled, straining through grit teeth.

Thirty seconds. Ninety-eight percent.

The spiral was tightening to the center. The X-Wing was almost spinning in place. Poe was having trouble breathing.

Fifteen seconds. Ninety-nine percent.

He could just barely make out a bright flash above him as the world started hazing into black and red. He kept firing. He kept his hand on the rudder. He could feel his gag reflex spasming the back of his throat.

The display blinked solid white and an alarm sounded. One hundred percent.

Poe slammed the rudder out of the spiral and pulled up hard, blasting the microboosters, the force of the sudden climb so severe the cannon barrels on the ends of the S-foils snapped. As Poe’s X-Wing came screaming out of the lens housing, a beam of pure and brilliant white blasted up toward the lens from the planet. A huge beam that burned as brightly as a star shot out the other side, streaking away into the dark of space.

For a second, Poe thought it might not have worked, but then, as he sped away as fast as the engines would allow, the giant beam snapped back, smashing into the emitter station. The glittering sphere ignited, blowing apart in a spray of white-hot plasma, vaporizing everything around it.

Poe let out a wild yell, and heard the celebration over the comm. They’d done it. It was over. And somewhere on the planet below, Poe thought, still unable to fully appreciate the events of the past few days, Leia Organa’s son was a hero.

[lethe-distillery-blog]

Ash Bringer

I admired her from a distance, though I knew her as intimately as my own flesh and bone, it was still the tantalizing new experiences of seeing her. Sweet and subtle she stood there, surrounded by nothing more than others seeking to be like her; not that she attempted to stand out, in fact, she did everything to blend in. But it was impossible to blend in when you were as perfect as she, so perfectly sculpted with subtle curves, delicate and smooth. She was perfectly remarkable to those who knew anything and faded into the background to those that didn't. Never had I been more fascinated or more intrigued.

Codenamed CITIZEN 001. Experimental stealth fighter craft of the Gravon Forces, personally commissioned and approved of by the royal family itself. She was a luxury, responsive to my touch, and just enough class to be a ladyship. Upon taking ownership of her I had taken to simply calling her ASH. It seemed fitting for such a magnificent thing to hold within her the name of something I found beautiful and oddly apropos to my situation. Though, if I was honest I had named it for whom I found beautiful I supposed. Ash Bringer, my old wingman before life had taken us in different directions.

She was destined for greatness, and I had gone through the spec op branch of our armada until I had reached the top and taken the name Shadow. It was tacky then, still felt it now, but in all ways of describing my particular purpose, it was exactly what I was. In all official capacity, Jorgan Hopkins, the man who had gone into Gravon Specialized Command, G-SpeC in 04252, had perished in recon exercise of the Far Reaches. Not exactly unbelievable as it did happen, but I was pretty sure it was designed to keep other governments and spies to know our true capacities. Still though, it was hard going to your own funeral and seeing loved ones crying over your grave where nothing but an empty capsule was burned because nothing had of your remains had been recovered. Still, I was pleased that my mother had that small amount of ash to comfort her.

It had taught me a lot too, that people lied; there had been plenty that had come to my funeral that had claimed great kinships that I had known nothing about. One or two I could understand, as I had been kind to them and they had appreciated it. But it taught me that others will lie to simply get close. Valuable lesson that. It's amazing the lessons we learn through a very different medium. Still though, I was now a shadow. Left with nothing more than a code denoting my existence, I was now a ghost. This particular landing bay left that magnificent lady to the ownership of one lucky bastard by the name of Geoffry Dune, High Chancellor of the Gravon Royal Court. He was one of four that I preferred cycling through, seemed like a fitting name. The ship was listed under a modified ASEC Fighter Class III, which took a lot of imagination to picture but lucky me, landing bay personnel weren't exactly paid to be in the possession of a brain.

Though I should be home free here at the bay, and the untrained would go straight to their ship and be off this waste of existence of a planet, I took my time. More than one attempt to end the shallow thing I called an existence had also taught me to be more careful of my surroundings and possible enemies that are hidden in plain sight. Point of fact, this last bastard had been part of the organization Hand of Magnum Sa, apparently a religious fanatical group that sought free people throughout all the sectors and did their best to end the monarchies in order for their religion to spread, or some nonsense like that. Deciding that my best course of action was to take out the entire high command of this particular strangeness before they tried anything else I had been in this particular sector for longer than six months. A perk of the job, political immunity, provided whatever I did was in the name and protection of the Gravon Royals, I could do nearly anything I wanted. Granted, if I was caught it was highly unlikely anyone would bother trying to save me because me didn't technically exist.

Oh, and I took out the assassin too, though that bastard had been more trained than I expected, the knife wound in my side still hurt like a sonofa and I still couldn't draw a full breath without it sending searing pain through my ribs. Thankfully I had caught the poison and my wrist computer had managed to pull together a remedy for it, death by an excess of fluid in the brain that causes one's eyes, or skull to explode did not exactly sound like a particularly pleasant way to go out. Can think of several dozen different ways that I would rather go, and that was without even trying hard. Still, I'd take my small blessings as I approached my ship without assault. I had just about enough blood on my hands for the last six months to last me a few days, at least. I closed the ramp and watched the outside world disappear.

The running lights brightened to something more substantial than an orange underglow. I took off my helmet and took a full breath even though I knew it would hurt, a helmet rebreather system could only do so much when one was buried in the stench of human waste and garbage. I needed a shower. About three days ago. A soft voice broke into my thoughts.

"Should I prepare for launch?"

"Yes Ash, thank you." My system's AI was personally designed by me over many months, and perfectly in tune to me, and so happened to sound like the one woman that I had ever loved. It was always bittersweet coming back to her, in some ways it shredded my soul like nothing else ever could, and in another, she felt like home.

I set the helmet down and sat down, I wanted to take off my soft suit too but it was holding the compress in place, so it would wait until later when I could take a shower, get cleaned, and then Ash could help me suture it back together. Provided she didn't nag me to death first. Why had I programmed her to be exactly like Ash? It was things like that that always made me miss her with something terrible. I sat at the chair, moving slowly to make sure I didn't alert Ash to something was wrong, well, she already knew something was wrong likely, but I didn't want to make her fuss at me yet. We needed to launch.

I ran through pre-flight checks, scanning through the systems on the massive display that Ash helped me go through. Normally a ship of this size was navigated by a crew of about a dozen but due to my, predicament, it was better for me to work alone. Besides, I preferred it that way, large groups made me uncomfortable, difficult to keep track of everyone that way, call it paranoia but when you worked with people that sought to kill you on any particular day of the week you preferred solitary. Besides, I had Ash to keep me company. "Systems go."

"Systems go." Ash echoed and I fired the engines. They came alive, it was strange not hearing the dull roar as they came to but the craft was completely silent as I ran through last checks and lifted off slowly moving towards to the bay doors at the end of the hanger and received flight clearance from a very bored sounding dock engineer.

"ASH, you're clear to launch, please take exit strategy 3C."

"Confirmed." I had a wince behind clenched teeth. I followed through to the atmosphere and watched my scanners. Sighing I watched the screen light up with blips, the way they moved was classic and predictable. "Enforcement moving in beautiful."

"Got it, systems primed and ready." It was one thing I liked about Ash, she was ready and we knew each other intimately. Small talk could wait until we were free and clear, thus, why I hadn't had a shower yet.

"ASH, report crew and purpose." I sighed at the hailing call from the local authorities, they were pansies that often felt their need to bully others just to make themselves feel better. How desperately I wanted a piece of them but so far, I had been given a very short leash, play nice, or escape, shoot only to incapacitate, do not kill unless necessary. Seriously made me want to strangle someone but I did get it.

"Captain Geoffry Dune," I wasn't even surprised anymore with how easy lying came to me. "Serial, 19TX624589RS001." I waited for the response.

"You are piloting that alone?"

"One AI assistance," I knew it annoyed Ash when I referred to something so lowly but I couldn't exactly explain to the nice captain that my AI was more sophisticated than the one that ran the entire structural system of his planet. Tended to not go well since it was then deemed contraband and I was obviously a smuggler on the run, and, really, I just wanted out of here. I went on mute for a minute as the man conversed with apparently his colleges, "Sorry Ash."

"Don't worry," I could hear the amusement in her voice, "I'll just get even later."

"What were you doing?" The man's voice came back sharp.

"What?" I was totally baffled this time.

"Our systems saw a drop in ambient noise, you muted us, why?"

I rolled my eyes at the absurd paranoia, "I had to pass gas, I figured that you may not want to hear it." Too late I remembered that I was supposed to be an aristo and I had a sneaky suspicion that they didn't talk like that.

"Be prepared to be boarded and inspected."

Ha. Not happening buddy, nobody violated my Ash, she was too valuable with tech that was lightyears beyond what this backwater hole could dream of and they would likely do their best to confiscate things just because they wanted something to study, or worse, liberate for themselves. "Yeah," I drawled slowly, setting my systems for complete manual control. "How about, no."

I fired my engines, the G-Force of the sudden acceleration slamming me into the chair painfully, I hissed out a breath but kept focused despite the darkness that edged at my vision. I knew Ash was well aware now that I was in pain but also knew that if I didn't get us out of here we were both dead. Well, I was, and hopefully she was too or else she was in for an existence worse than death. I spun the ship in a corkscrew to avoid the plasma bolts that flew off into space. That hyper-heated ball of gasses would melt anything it touched so it was better to avoid those than to try to play hero. I fired back, wide shots, but enough to create an opening.

"Co-ordinates locked," Ash's voice was a soft balm to my ragged nerves. "Fifteen degrees up and ten miles north to the starting position."

"Got it." I hated hyperspace travel, it was dangerous and highly annoying. The positions had to be perfectly mapped or you would be dragged off course by a planet, or worse, smashed into one. Lucky for me, I had Ash. Finally, I broke through the entanglement and reached position. "Now!" And we launched the light drive and space opened before us.

I breathed out a sigh of relief and slumped into the chair, they had been business with the plasma, that shit would chew through the titanium alloy plates of my girl's hull and vent the atmosphere that I, personally, needed to live, and granted if it was small I did have a rebreather system that would function for three hours but if it was large enough the drop in atmosphere would pull me apart. Again, not one of the more pleasant ways to go. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were injured." Ash's hurt tone was obvious and I felt horrible.

"I'm sorry, I was actually planning on telling you so you could help put me back together after I had a shower."

"Ah, so the only reason I would find out is because you couldn't take care of it yourself." Basically, I hated stressing her unnecessarily it just felt like every time I took a hit, she felt it too. I had gotten her programming way too good.

I would have told you." I lied, hoping she wouldn't call me out on it. The HyLoRD buzzed and I sighed. I just wanted my damn shower already. The HyLoRD was a Gravon designed system Hyperspace Long Range Device, basically a phone that could work in hyperspace, and since it was only ever wrung by the Royal House, my affectionate nickname for the device that meant I never got any peace anymore.

I opened the channel, expecting to see his royal highness, King Sirius, the guy could be a prick sometimes but that was mostly when he was stressed about something in particular, and given that he tended to stress about everything, well, he was a jerk. A jerk I understood granted, but still a jerk nonetheless. I was shocked though, to find her royal beauty there, Queen Amoura. She was a stunning woman, porcelain skin that had never seemed to change, eyes so vivid and bright they seared right through to my soul and the very truth of me. She was exquisite, perfection, and beautiful beyond any description that the news sources could ever possibly say about her. "My Queen," my words tumbled over themselves and I moved subtly to mute Ash from the speakers of the ship, allowing her through the comm piece that never left my ear. "I apologize for my lack of appearances, I was expecting your husband to be the one that called."

Too late I realized I had stuck my foot in my mouth, Ash called me on it in my ear and given the smile my Queen held, I guessed she caught it too. The whole innuendo that I wouldn't have bothered to prepare myself for her husband and yet I would have at least tried to look presentable for her. "It's alright. I just got your report that you sent in," she smiled, and it was like a sunrise happened, "I feel much safer knowing what you have done Shadow."

"I would do anything to protect you m'lady."

Her smile was kind but as she took me in I saw the look pass her features. Uh oh. Busted. "When was the last time you took off any time for yourself?"

I knew better than to lie. "About six months ago, maybe seven."

She shook her head, her hair gliding through the air like silk in a breeze. "You need more time than that, I will make it that you take the next two to yourself."

This time it was I that shook my head. "Unable to m'lady," her eyes narrowed on me, "the gathering of the house is within the week and I need to be there to protect you and yours."

"Jorgan.." her voice was pain filled as she looked at me and I cherished the concern there, it meant more than she would ever know.

"Amoura," I dropped protocol to let her know she had done it first. "I told you I would always keep you safe and protect you. I hold by my word."

She sighed, a growl of frustration tinging it. "Alright," she relented, but on two conditions Shadow, one, you do nothing but give us your report and then you get some good sleep, you look like you could use it. Two, you take a week off afterward, you need to do something for yourself, you always seem locked away from others. Alone and isolated, you need to get out and experience to the world."

I was actually rather fine where I was, it kept me from experiencing too much, and that, in turn, kept me from hurting too much. I did know better than to argue though, I would take this victory as much as it was. "So long as no one seeks to do you, or yours harm."

"Alright Shadow, we'll be expecting you at 0330." It was the time I was to arrive on Gravon. "May the gods keep you safe on your journey home to us."

"Gods watch you and keep you safe m'lady." I signed off and let Ash back to the speakers. "Would you like to animate as I shower and you can join me?" I knew how much she enjoyed taking possession of the human-like body I created for her.

In response, I could hear the shower start up and I smiled switching the ship over to autopilot, I doubted we would have any troubles in hyperspace. I came into the bathroom of the captain's lounge and smiled at the sweet smell of eucalyptus and mint, the steam already filling the air. Gods, I had spent days through the sewers dreaming of this moment. I breathed in and savored it. A soft hand touched mine and I smiled down at Ash's animated body. I had designed it perfectly, sculpting her of silicone, fake skin, and making her perfectly human-like. She even had breasts and a functioning sex drive, hey, I am a guy. Everything on her was perfection, exactly how her real-life copy was. Her touch was gentle as she slowly started to undress me, her own skin perfectly glistening in the steam, the pearls of water flashing like amber in the glow of the electronic candles. She was the reason I flew solo, the real reason; because to be in love with the Queen, was treason.