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clanoffetts · 4 years ago

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someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality.

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials.

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling.

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community.

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?”

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here.

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet.

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles?

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse.

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy.

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving.

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out.

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix.

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing.

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way.

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits.

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen.

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz.

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says.

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years.

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room.

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way.

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were.

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride.

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him.

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here.

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship.

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point.

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor.

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.”

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship.

“Good night to you, too!” You called.

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help.

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?”

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective.

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path.

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.”

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that.

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing.

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice.

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are.

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday.

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway.

“Need something, dal’ika?”

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag.

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about.

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied.

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again.

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back.

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before.

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall.

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.”

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you.

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks.

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said.

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride.

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back.

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic.

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert?

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that.

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.”

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers.

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.”

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname.

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

#paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian #Star Wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

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ahsokatanope · 5 years ago

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Battered and Bruised: Chapter I

(Un)friendly Encounters

Summary: It’s two years after the Clone Wars ended with the fall of the Jedi Order. As the First Sister, it is your duty to hunt down the Jedi that remain in the galaxy after The Purge. On what you believe is just another ordinary mission, you encounter your former best friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi and memories of your past come flooding back. After believing that he betrayed you and left you to die, will you kill him to get your revenge? Or will your feelings for him rekindle under unexpected circumstances?

Pairing: Inquisitor!Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Word Count: 3,129

Warnings: some violence. decapitation. death. negative thoughts. (reader is v sad)

Note: Hi everyone! This is my first SW fic, so go easy on me! Feedback would be very helpful as I go on with this series! :) I’ve been wanting some more Obi content right after Order 66 lately, so I decided to make it come to life. Reader is an inquisitor, so beware of slow burn, untold feelings, and a bit of angst! Let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! Enjoy!

The heat from the twin suns of Tatooine radiates off your black attire as you hop out of the top of your TIE fighter. You jump off your ship and when you land, the sand around you dusts up towards your eyes, but your helmet protects your face.

You hate this planet. There is nothing about it to like. It’s barren, hot, and full of uncivilized scum who’d do anything for credits. The last time you were here, you came as a Jedi Master at the start of the Clone Wars to negotiate for safe passage for Republic ships through the Outer Rim Territories.

Sighing internally, you make a mental note to make this visit quick. With your cape flowing behind you, you make your way over to the entrance of Jabba’s Palace. This time, not as a Jedi Master, but as the First Sister instead.

One of Jabba’s droids waits for you at the entrance of the palace. You give it the password and it accepts it, making a high-pitched beep sound. Waiting patiently, you wait for the door to open, but it doesn’t quite yet.

“No weapons allowed in the throne room.” It says, voice monotone. “The door will not open and you will not be permitted to enter until your weapons are given to me.”

You grudgingly call both of your sabers to your gloved hands with the Force and place them in the tray that flaps out of the droid’s rusting torso. “If I so much as see a scratch on them by the time we’re done here, I’ll throw you in an incinerator myself.”

“No need for threats, Inquisitor. They will be right here the whole time.” The droid says, opening the door and wheeling away from you. “Follow me.”

The throne room has not changed since your last visit. It’s still as grimy and dreadful as you remember. You didn’t think it was possible for Jabba to look even more slimy and disgusting, but here he is, more than surpassing your expectations.

He couldn’t even bother to be awake for your arrival? Disgraceful.

“Jabba! Glad to see that you are excited to be in my presence.” You state, sarcasm oozing from your words. You move to stand in the center of the room and all eyes fall on you.

He awakens suddenly and stares at you with his big, grotesque eyes. He slurs out a jumble of words you don’t understand and you wait for his protocol droid to translate, but a man to the right of Jabba does instead.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Inquisitor?” The man says smoothly, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I came here to speak with Jabba. Who are you?”

“I am Plin Fazabar, one of Jabba’s negotiators.” He says with a smirk. “It’s quite rude to have a conversation with a helmet on, don’t you think? Why don’t you take it off and let us see if the rumors of the First Sister’s beauty are true.”

“I don’t have time for this.” You say, struggling to hold back the annoyance in your tone. “You reached out to the Imperial Inquisition to make a trade for intel on the whereabouts of a Jedi survivor. I’ve come for that intel. Why don’t we make this trade swift, yeah?”

“Oh, don’t be hasty, Inquisitor. What’s the rush? You’re not enjoying this quality time together?” Jabba’s droid translates while the Hutt chuckles.

“Are you afraid of being alone in a room full of crime lords and bounty hunters?” Fazabar adds, outwardly mocking you. You exhibit restraint to kill him right then and there.

“Afraid of what I may do if you don’t give me what I want, yes. Slightly.”

Fazabar hums and crosses his arms. “And how much would you pay for this information?”

“We agreed on 8,000 credits. The Empire will pay you generously.”

The tattooed man looks at Jabba before he nods. “Yes, yes.” He sighs before continuing. “There have been whispers of a hooded man in a cloak that looks eerily familiar to one a Jedi would wear. He was last seen at a cantina in Mos Eisley, where there are rumors of… a bit of an incident with a blue-colored laser sword.

Your fists clench with anger and your jaw tenses before you speak up.

“You mean to tell me that I came all this way, to a planet full of nothing, for rumors?”

“You should be thankful we gave you the information before we received our payment. Perhaps we should charge you double if you are not going to be grateful for our offering.” Fazabar walks over to the droid who holds your weapons. Your eyes follow his every step.

“Now, I know you most likely did not come prepared with 16,000 credits, but I’ll tell you what. Jabba and I are going to cut you a deal, aren’t we Jabba?” The Hutt grunts in agreement and the creatures that surround him laugh. “Why don’t we keep your lightsabers as a fair bargain and call it a day. They would more than cover the cost: military grade, custom durite metal… These are unlike any other Inquisitor saber I’ve seen or heard of. I’m sure they are worth a fortune. Tell me, Inquisitor. How many Jedi have you killed with these blades?”

Fazabar picks up one of your sabers and runs his fingers over the hilt lightly. You feel your anger well up inside you.

You narrow your eyes and lick your lips, looking around the room before your piercing gaze settles on the man. “21.”

“Well, that is an incredible feat! Maybe the lightsabers are much too sentimental for you to trade. I’m sure we can work out a different type of payment. One that would involve a bed and the absence of your helmet.”

He can’t see your expression behind the mask of your helmet, but if looks could kill, he’d already be 10 feet under.

Plin sends you a dark, twisted smile but before he can get another word out, you use the Force to pull him towards you by his throat, choking him. Simultaneously, you call the lightsaber he holds to your right hand. Releasing your Force hold on his throat, you allow him to breathe again and roughly grab Fazabar’s shoulder to make him turn and face Jabba while you ignite your red blade and bring it up to his throat.

The room goes silent and the bounty hunters that were lurking around earlier raise their blasters and point them in your direction. At this point, Fazabar’s demeanor has completely changed. You can’t see his face, but you can feel the fear radiating off of him.

Not caring about the blasters trained on you, you lean forward to murmur in Fazabar’s ear. “You didn’t really mean any of that, did you?”

Suddenly, Jabba starts to laugh and your eyes snap over to him over the man’s shoulder.

“What’s so funny, Jabba?” You ask darkly. “Did I miss a joke?”

The protocol droid translates what he says. “Surely, you’re not stupid enough to kill him in a room full of bounty hunters.”

“Surely, you’re not ignorant enough to try and scam an Imperial Inquisitor.” You spit, glaring at him.

Without tearing your eyes from Jabba, you push Fazabar into the red blade of your lightsaber, decapitating the man in a smooth, swift motion.

Gasps can be heard around the room and the bounty hunters tense up, waiting for Jabba to make the call to shoot. Their fingers itch to pull their triggers, but the call doesn’t come.

You call your second saber to you, and clip it to your belt. Keeping the other saber ignited, you pull out a sack of credits and throw it to the translator droid.

“This is only half of the original amount!”

Keeping your attention around you, you make sure you’re able to defend yourself at any moment. You begin to walk out of the room. Before you exit, you state, “You’ll get the other half when I kill the Jedi.”

And with that, you take your leave.

Jabba yells in anger, garbling something.

The translator droid says, “Initiate protocol 757.”

The bounty hunters in the room nod. One of them presses a transmitter on his wrist.

__________________

You’ve got to give it to Fazabar. The intel he gave you is accurate. There is a Jedi in Mos Eisley… you could feel it. His presence in the Force is faint, but it’s there. Something about it feels familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

You’ve been tailing the Jedi through Mos Eisley, so when he gets in his rusty, run-down speeder and travels to a scrap yard on the edge of the port city, you follow at a distance. Silently, you watch the cloaked man hop out of his speeder from the top of a building nearby. As he walks towards the scrap yard, he takes a second to pause and check his surroundings.

The twin suns hang low in the sky as you wait for him to move on. You jump down from the building when he’s a good distance away and continue to tail him through the scrap yard as he looks for spare parts. You assume they are for his speeder since it looks like it’s about to break down at any moment.

As you get closer to the Jedi, his force signature grows stronger, but you can tell that he’s trying to conceal his presence as much as possible. He must have been a Jedi Knight or Master, judging from his ability to do this.

You patiently wait for the right moment to strike as you hide behind an old wrecked LAAT Gunship.

Suddenly, you feel a whoosh of emotions come over you as the concealed Force presence now intoxicates you. Your breath catches in your throat and you close your eyes as you struggle to push back your feelings as quickly as possible.

Flashbacks of your past flood your mind, overwhelming you. Feelings of pain, betrayal, laughter, sadness, and love all fill your senses at the same time, overwhelming you. Voices in your head begin to overlap.

“Master Y/L/N and I will be able to handle Grievous. We make a great team.”

“I see you decided to take a page out of Anakin’s book. That was reckless, Y/N! You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“You and me on a mission together again, Kenobi? I’m starting to think you’re swaying the council just to get a little more quality time with me.”

“Y/N! I’ve got you. Grab my other hand. No!”

Your eyes snap open and you take a deep breath.

“Obi-Wan.” You whisper to yourself.

You don’t let yourself dwell on your past for too long. Your fists clench when you’re reminded of what Obi-Wan and the Jedi Order did to get you to the point where you are today. They are traitors, the lot of them. And Obi-Wan is no different, as much as you once wanted to believe he was.

You hear boots hitting the dirt from a distance and a voice brings you back to reality.

The Jedi lowers his hood and shouts out, “Reveal yourself. I’m afraid you are not as stealthy as you think you are.”

You finally step out from the shadows and Obi-Wan’s eyes watch you, studying your every move.

He hasn’t changed a bit. Save for his slightly longer hair and beard, he looks exactly the same since you last saw him. When he let you fall to your presumed death. He’s still as handsome as you remember, but The Purge hadn’t done him any good. You can see the deep sadness in his eyes and you know by looking into them that he barely rests.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You drawl, your helmet distorting your voice slightly. “You haven’t changed since our last encounter.”

He looks at you wearily before he cocks his head. “I’m quite embarrassed. I don’t seem to recall your name, how rude of me. Remind me of who you are again?”

So his wit surely is still intact.

He removes his cloak, revealing his robes and lightsaber hilt attached to his belt. You wonder when he used it last. You take a few steps closer to him, but keep your distance.

“They call me the First Sister. I’m the first of my kind, trained in the ways of the Dark Side by Lord Sidious and your fallen apprentice.” You state and you two circle around each other. “My Sisters and Brothers answer to me.”

Sadness flashes in Obi-Wan’s eyes at the mention of Anakin. “So, the rumors about the Imperial Jedi hunters are true, I presume.”

“They are indeed.” You chuckle darkly. “You had to have known you’d encounter one eventually, Master Kenobi. I sincerely hope, for your sake, that your lightsaber skills are still sharp.”

“I’m afraid you never answered my question. Who are you and why do you speak to me like you know me?”

You know the time to reveal yourself has come. Your hands reach up to take hold of your helmet and you pull it off slowly.

Obi-Wan watches with curiosity and as your face is revealed, inch by inch, his expression shifts to one of shock and heartbreak.

“Y/N…” He whispers and his body freezes, tensing up. “I thought you were dead.”

You smirk at him. “In a way, I am. Y/N Y/L/N, the Jedi Master who was loyal to the Order was weak and I replaced her with someone who is stronger and more powerful than she could ever be.”

He starts to shake his head slowly and the wind blows a tuft of his auburn hair to his forehead. “No… no, I watched you die on Utapau. You were shot and you fell to your death.”

“Believe what you want, Kenobi, but it’s not going to change the fact that you turned away your apprentice and your best friend. Nothing will change that!” Two years of pent up anger and hate flood through your system and fuel your every move.

Noticing your increasing aggression towards him, his eyes widen. “Let us talk about this. This is not who you are, Y/N.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Always the negotiator.”

You call your lightsabers to your hands and ignite them, the red light from the blades illuminating your face.

“Don’t do this, Y/N.” Obi-Wan begs, his blue eyes plead with yours. “Please. I do not wish to fight you.”

“Then this will be easy.”

You get into your fighting stance, your eyes not leaving his figure.

“You leave me no choice.” Obi-Wan says, broken and defeated. He unclips his saber from his belt and illuminates it.

You are the first to strike and both of your sabers strike against Kenobi’s. Blue and red clash together as you two move with grace and precision, an equal match for each other. You always were.

The power dynamic shifts back and forth, but you can tell that Obi-Wan is holding back.

“Why do you hold back, Kenobi? Are you afraid?” You spit out when your lightsabers are locked. “Don’t want to be responsible for my actual death?”

“You must know that I did everything I could to save you! I couldn’t stop Order 66 or you getting shot, but I still blame myself for it everyday!”

“You could have come back to see if I survived the fall, but you didn’t!” You push him back with the Force to create distance. “The Empire saved me instead!”

“I wanted to, but I couldn’t!” Obi-Wan yells, trying to plead his case. His beautiful blue eyes start to well up with tears. “I had to stop Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side. I did—”

You cut him off by reaching your hand out to Force choke him. His feet slightly lift off the ground as tears fill your eyes.

“Yeah? Well, how’d that work out for you?”

Obi-Wan is finally at your mercy after two years of wanting him to pay for what he did. After two years of resenting his existence and taking your anger out on killing other Jedi and force-sensitives. You were trained to use the anger you had towards him as power, and you wanted to cause him as much pain as he caused you, but...

As much as you want vengeance, you just… can’t find it in yourself to finish him. Your feelings for him before The Purge came flooding back the moment you saw him and now, it’s making you weak.

You release your hold on his throat and he drops to the ground, but Obi-Wan had already flung a large piece of scrap towards you in defense. You couldn’t move in time and it hits you full on, knocking you to the ground and your lightsabers out of your hands.

You groan in pain as you fade in and out of consciousness. Struggling profusely, you try to get up and wobble on your feet, but fail to stand straight. Falling back to the ground, you attempt to drag yourself towards one of your lightsabers. You have no idea where Kenobi went, but you know you need to defend yourself.

Suddenly, there is creaking heard from above you. The tall pile of scrap a short distance away is beginning to crumble. Kenobi must have removed the perfect amount of scrap to make the whole thing tumble down.

As the pile starts to loom over you, you know, deep down that you won’t be able to make it a safe distance away. You could barely stand. So, instead of running, you decide to drop to your knees and close your eyes, your lightsabers lying forgotten in the sand. You welcome the death that awaits you. Maybe you deserve it, after all. You’ve done so much wrong by killing Jedi and innocent force sensitives across the galaxy. Years of letting your fear, hate, and anger drive your actions are finally catching up to you. Maybe, just maybe, after enduring all the pain and suffering in your life, you’ll finally find peace. Maybe peace isn’t a lie.

You jolt at the feel of strong arms starting to drag your body across the sand. You open your eyes and stare at the night sky to try and register what’s going on. Turning, you see Obi-Wan’s face etched in pain and concern.

“No,” you mumble. “Don’t touch me.”

You try to pull away from him and drag your heels into the sand, but he stops to pick you up over his shoulder and runs to safety. Struggling against him, you finally wriggle free and drop to the ground on your hands and knees.

“What in the blazes do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get kriffing killed?!” Kenobi yells as the scrap pile crashes behind you, old fuel tanks exploding from the impact. The orange light from the glow falls on both of your faces.

“Get away from me!” You yell, slow to get up. You didn’t have any energy in you to push him back with the Force. You're finally able to stand on your feet, swaying a bit as you try to catch your balance.

“Y/N, please let me—”

Obi-Wan suddenly stops talking as a light thump emits from behind him. His eyes droop closed as his body starts to go limp and fall forward.

Witnessing this, your eyes widen as you see a dart in the back of Kenobi’s neck. You quickly glance around (your head spinning) and with newfound adrenaline, you call Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to you for defense and press the emergency communicator on your left forearm. Milliseconds later, you feel a slight pinch in your neck and you quickly remove the sharp object, but it’s too late. You feel the effects of the dart begin to take their toll, numbing your body and making your vision go black.

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capricornus-rex · 5 years ago

Text

The Haunt of Redemption (4)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.

“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.

“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”

“No need. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”

He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.

He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.

It was Boss Lora.

Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.

“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”

“And where is this docking bay located?”

The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”

Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.

“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”

“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”

“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”

“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”

Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.

Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.

“Look what I made you, Mama!”

“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”

“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”

He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.

Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.

“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”

“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.

She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.

“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”

Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.

“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”

Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.

He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”

“What fugitives?”

“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”

At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.

There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.

The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.

“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”

“When do I start, boss?”

There.

Your smile. Your laugh.

Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.

For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.

“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.

Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.

“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.

“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.

“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”

“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”

The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.

“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”

“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.

The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”

The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.

—–

Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.

BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.

“Alright, BD, toss me another!”

The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.

BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.

“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”

“Trill, chirp!”

“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.

The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.

“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”

“Boo…” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”

You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”

Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.

“Hanging in there, BD?”

“Woop! Bee-woop.”

“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”

You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.

“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Woo!”

“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”

You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.

How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.

The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.

“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”

“Woo-boop!”

You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.

Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.

Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.

Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.

“Oh no…” you shuddered.

Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.

“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”

A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.

The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.

You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.

You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.

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misseffect · 5 years ago

Text

VIDEO GAME TAG

Me: gets tagged

Also me: immediately forgets every video game i've ever played

Thanks to @thealexmachina for this - it made me think about games I haven't thought about in years! Tagging @shepgarrus @zaeedmassanis & @garriante (but only if you fancy it).

Games

First game you ever played: oh boy, probably Monsters Inc on GBA. I'm a woman of culture, you see.

Favorite game: LoZ: Twilight Princess. It was the first game I'd played with a story that utterly hooked me. And my first LoZ title.

Game you’ve played through multiple times: Lego Star Wars. BF is making me watch the prequels atm and I keep recognising rooms from the games. If they just smash up those chairs they'll get some studs and an extra heart.

Game you hated at first but now love: Shadow of Mordor. Hate is a strong word. Didn't care for it initially and it's not normally my type, but it was actually a lot of fun.

Game you used to love but now hate: Okami. It's beautiful and the mechanics are cool, but there's this stupid fucking digging mini game that I just cannot beat. Non-optional mini games can eat my whole ass. I put it down last year in a rage and never picked it back up.

Your favorite game atmosphere/setting(s): RDR2. Rockstar's worldbuilding is second to none - the dialogue, the locations, the horses, the little bits of lore scattered through the world for you to find. Stunning. Very close second goes to BotW because the peaceful post-apocalypse vibe is really refreshing. And it also has horses.

A game with your favorite ending: LA Noire. Sometimes shit's broken and people are difficult and the bad guys get away with it, and there's nothing you can do about it but god damnit do we we try anyway. That final sequence in the sewers was some high-octane shit.

A game with the WORST ending: obligatory Mass Effect 3. Otherwise, Skyrim because it just never fucking ends. 100+hrs in and you're a Dragonborn Arch-Mage Dark Brotherhood assassin vampire Nightingale warewolf who could kill a Giant with a sneeze but half the quests are broken so you can't bloody finish anything properly.

Best character customization?: New Horizons. Fight me.

Hero and Companions

Your favorite playable character: FemShep, obviously. Corvo from Dishonoured is also very cool.

The funniest playable character: ooh that's a tough one. Arthur from RDR2 doesn't get enough credit imo. He's a funny dude.

Your favorite companion(s): Midna from Twilight Princess. The bit after the water temple where she gets hurt you have to take her to Hyrule Castle in the dark and the rain? Yeah. Honourable mention to Wrex from ME and Bekowsky from LA Noire. We only get them both as actual companions really briefly which a shame.

Companions you could live without: Thane. Sorry buddy, I just didn't care about you at all.

Relationships

Favorite game friendship(s): Arthur and Lenny from RDR2. FemShep and Ashley are hugely underrated in the fandom imo - there's a scene in the Citadel DLC where you both get hammered and start a bar fight. Just gals bein dudes. Also Phoenix and Maya from the Ace Attorney series for the 10/10 sibling dynamic and found family wholesomeness.

Favorite game relationship(s): Shepard and Garrus because I'm always a slut for relationships built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect. Also the one in Transistor. You know the one.

Favorite companion banter: gotta be the OG Mass Effect alien squad - Garrus, Wrex, Tali and Liara. I love how their interactions evolve through the games.

A relationship you weren’t sure of but loved: Alistair and the Warden. They got off on the wrong foot initially in my first Origins play-through but he's a sweetheart really.

A minor character you wish could be a companion: every Star Wars game should have a Gonk Droid companion option and that's the tea.

A character you wish you COULD romance: Morrigan. You expect me to believe the swamp witch is straight? Please.

Fun

Shoutout to a random NPC: ISAAC NEWTON IS THE DEADLIEST SONOFABITCH IN SPACE.

A game you love watching playthroughs for and want to play: the Uncharted series. I'd give anything for a PC port, Sony. ANYTHING.

Love watching playthroughs but won’t ever play: literally any horror game. Until Dawn, Dead Space, etc. But even then I never watch them full screen and usually only have one headphone on.

Online gaming or solo?: Solo. The only online game I really play is GTA V because I don't have friends.

Why do you play video games?: I don't read a lot at the moment so they get me my fiction fix, and games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley are thereputic. And I just think they're neat.

#tag post #tag game #it me #i can't remember how ive tagged these before #i wrote this on mobile because apparently i enjoy suffering

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spectraspecs-writes · 6 years ago

Text

Dantooine - Chapter 51 (Juhani, Canderous)

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 50. Chapter 52 .

@averruncusho thank you for reading you get a tag.

We pick a prime spot in the grove between the Sandral and Matale estates. But as it turned out, the Mandalorians wanted it, too. They, much to Canderous’ dismay, were not eager to fight two Jedi padawans, a Twi’lek teen, a Wookiee, a droid with an attitude, and a Mandalorian mercenary, so they left without a fight. I get the feeling they’ll be back, but they still shouldn’t pose a problem. (Mandalorians don’t give up easily. But that’s one of the reasons I wanted T3 here. If they come while we’re asleep, T3 should alert us, no problem.)

“I’ve never been camping before!” Mission says, bouncing with glee, “I’m so excited!”

“It’s not so great,” Canderous says, “The ground you end up sleeping on usually ends up being cold and hard. You wake up in the morning with bugs hanging around your mouth. And sometimes it rains.”

“If you hate it so much, why did you come?” I ask him.

“It’s not the sleeping that makes it enjoyable,” he says, “It’s the time spent with friends and squad-mates. The camaraderie built by a shared experience…”

“I want to try to set up the tent myself!” Mission says, swatting away Zaalbar’s hand.

“... the chance to see that,” Canderous finishes, smiling.

“That tent is going to fall on her many times,” I comment, as it falls on her. She picks it up, attempting to prop it up on a pole. The pole bends and falls. She is covered by tent again.

“She’ll work it out,” Canderous says, “I’m going to track down an iriaz. I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, don’t get lost.”

“Don’t mock me.”

Juhani comes up to me. “Rena, would you rather I started on the other tent, or building the fire?”

“Whichever you like,” I say, “Zaalbar, do you think you could find some sticks?”

“I’m waiting to help Mission,” he says.

“If she asks, I’ll help,” I tell him. He shrugs a bit and trudges off to find some sticks. We’ll probably prep the iriaz on some makeshift spit or something. Or I suppose I could equip T3 with a flamethrower and he could roast it. That could be fun.

“Rena?” Juhani asks me, as I’m sort of wandering, trying to figure out what to do myself before settling on another tent set-up.

“What’s up?”

“I- I feel I must apologize for the way I acted towards you before, in the grove. It was wrong of me,” she says.

“Give me a hand here, hold this up,” I say, and she takes a pole from me, “And don’t worry about it, you weren’t yourself.”

“I am sorry for attacking you,” she says, “I am sorry for thinking you would only try to kill me. I hope that by helping you in your task I may redeem myself in your eyes… and in my own.”

“You’re putting a lot on just putting up a tent,” I joke.

“I meant…”

“I know what you meant, I was joking,” I say, getting the tent all the way up. “And really, it’s fine. I’ve forgiven you already.”

“Thank you,” she says, “It is most reassuring to know that you can forgive me, even though I tried to take your life. I can only hope that, in our time journeying together, I will succeed.”

Mission’s tent poles collapse on her again. “Help, please.”

Canderous returns with an iriaz slung over his shoulder, and Zaalbar helps me tie it onto a stick so we can roast it on a spit. (I expected Juhani to express some reluctance, but she didn’t. Either being vegetarian is just a Bastila thing, or it’s an optional Jedi thing. Or she was vegetarian, but needed to eat while living in the grove and went with whatever she could find. Or I suppose it could be a Cathar thing somehow, I don’t know. I’m not as familiar with Cathar as I would like, certainly not their customs. Anyway.) T3 starts the fire with the flamethrower I equipped him with, and Zaalbar mostly tends the spit. “You’re pretty good at that, Zaalbar,” I say to him.

“I’m out of practice, I’m afraid,” he says.

“You can’t really start fires just anywhere on Taris,” Mission says, “And even in the Undercity they didn’t have to cook very much.”

“Where did you learn this skill?” Juhani asks him, “On your homeworld?”

Zaalbar just sort of grunts in the affirmative. “Big Z doesn’t talk about Kashyyyk very much,” Mision says, “He’s more the strong silent type.”

“My affairs are my own,” he grunts shortly.

“I can respect that,” I tell him, “We’ll be going to Kashyyyk eventually, though, just so you know.” He grunts again.

“So what is this plan, anyway?” Canderous ask, “This mission the Council has you doing?”

“We found a Star Map in these old ruins, talking about this thing called the Star Forge,” I tell everyone, “We have no idea what it is but we’re supposed to find it and destroy it.”

“Sounds like a factory to me,” Canderous says.

“That’s what I said, a weapons factory,” I say, “But we have to go to the planets on the Star Map and put together all these clues to find the Star Forge.” I pull out my datapad and open up a copy of the map, and pass it around. “Tatooine, Kashyyyk, Korriban, and Manaan,” I say, “If anyone doesn’t want to go, I totally understand, but I’d love to have all of you.”

“Big Z and I are with you,” Mission says. I knew Zaalbar was, the whole life-debt thing.

“It sounds like you’ll need a Mandalorian,” Canderous says.

Juhani just nods. She already said she was with me. T3 beeps. As if he was going to go anywhere. I can’t help but smile, I love my friends.

“But that’s enough business,” Canderous says, “There’ll be enough time for that in the morning.”

“Do you have any war stories, Canderous?” Mission asks him, leaning forward eagerly.

Canderous smiles at her. He can’t say no to Mission. He hands my datapad back to me and settles himself. “I’ve got plenty of them.” This should be good. “In my time I was one of the best youth warriors in clan Ordo. No one before me had mastered the power of our Basilisk war droids as quickly as I had. Except Mandalore himself, of course.” Of course. He settles himself in again. “In those days we were sweeping across the Outer Rim. Destroying all who fought us.” (Juhani looks a little distant, but she stays and listens anyway. There’s something there.) “Young Mandalores would prove themselves in real combat with unknown opponents above a thousand worlds. Each brought back the story of his achievements.”

With the iriaz cooked clean through, I help Zaalbar divide it up. This one is a smaller animal, which is good because otherwise we’d have a lot of leftovers. I hand Canderous one of the legs. “So what was your story?” I ask him.

With one big hand he peels off a chunk of meat from the sinewy thigh of the iriaz. “I remember it well,” he says, almost like he’s gazing into the past, “orbiting high above a placid world, its defenses just stirring.” Mission takes a bite out of hers, can’t take her eyes off of Canderous. “As was tradition, I would go ahead of the first wave to find enemies in the thickest fighting.” T3 even looks raptured by the story, not making a single noise even as Zaalbar uses the top of his head as a table.

“I remember sitting there in my armor, linked directly with the Basilisk thrumming beneath me. My heart racing with fear at the coming battle.” Juhani scoffs a little, but Canderous doesn’t hear it. Or doesn’t acknowledge it, anyway. “The doors opened in front me and the air was sucked out of the drop bay, scattering crystals of frozen vapor across my path. I can't describe what it feels like to look directly down at a world, falling continuously as you circle it, with barely fifteen centimeters of armor plate protecting you. When the magnetic locks disengaged on my droid I plunged out of the drop bay towards the battle that waited below.”

Suddenly Mission breaks her silence. “You dropped from orbit riding a droid?!” Accompanied by a shocked series of beeps form T3.

Canderous smiles, at them and the memory. “The exhilaration, the euphoria I felt as I streaked into the atmosphere, dodging self-guided projectile and beam weapons, was unmatched,” he says, “An eighty kilometer plunge through the atmosphere, dodging and weaving, the outside of my armor glowing like the sun with the heat of re-entry. And with barely thirty meters to spare, I twisted and skimmed the surface, firing at the giant beam generators that were in my path. The explosion from that sent shockwaves that levelled the entire complex around it. It was the moment of my life.”

He sighs. “I'll never forget those times. But…” he says slowly, “things are different now. We can't go on fighting the way we had. There are too few of us left now.” He shakes his head, then looks at Mission. “I trust I've satisfied your curiosity for now?”

“Can I hear another?” is the only thing Mission says.

Again, Canderous can’t say no to her. “You want another war story, eh?” he says, “You want to hear about some other world getting wasted?” Mission nods. “Sure. I’ll humor you.”

Before he can start on the story, Juhani stands and walks away, having barely touched her iriaz. I get up to follow her. Canderous continues anyway.

“Hey,” I say as I catch up to her, “Are you doing alright?”

She gives me a sad smile. “I… I thank you for your concern, but I am still a bit shaken.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Canderous’ stories? He just has a soft spot for Mission, and Mission herself is a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

“No,” she says, “I have been thinking about myself… about Quatra… and about my fall to the dark side. I keep thinking that it was my anger that drove me that far, that nearly damned me.” She sighs a little bit, looking at the horizon. “I look inside myself now and I can still see it, I still feel it.”

“Hey, maybe you just need a bit more time,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder gently.

“Yes,” she says with an exhale, “More time would do me good. Time to distance myself from that anger. I think that is why the Council agreed to send me with you. They think, perhaps, that in your company I will be able to free myself from it.”

“I’m happy to help if I can.”

“I thank you for your concern and your acceptance. I will strive to prove that I am worthy of your company and trust.”

Girl, you don’t have to prove yourself. “Come on,” I say, “It gets cold out here at night.” And she follows me back to the fire.

“I just can’t believe it was a ship!” Mission exclaims. I’m sure that would make more sense if I’d heard the story. “Can I hear another one?”

“I don’t have any more stories for now,” he says, “Besides, there’s one story I’d like to hear myself.” I sit down. “Rena,” he says to me, “care to elaborate why Mr. Republic isn’t on this trip?”

I scoff. “Who are we talking about?” Juhani asks.

“Carth,” Mission says, “He’s our pilot. Wears an orange jacket, doesn’t shave.”

“I think I saw him a couple times outside the Council chambers,” Juhani says, “And a few times with you. The two of you seemed… close, I suppose.”

And I laugh. “They are,” Canderous says.

“Yeah, well you can forget about that,” I say, “It turns out I had him figured all wrong, the son of a bitch.”

“Whoa!” Canderous and Mission both say. “What did he do?” Mission asks.

“He told me how he really feels, finally,” I say. (Canderous scoffs, like he knows something I don’t, which I doubt. And even if he does, any chance of that has gone out the airlock.) “He’s been expecting me to betray him this whole time, and apparently still does! As if I haven’t saved his ass enough times before!” I can tell Juhani wants to advise me against my anger, but it’s not like I’m going to do anything with it. “Don’t you think if I was going to betray him, I would have done it already?”

“Look, Rena, I doubt he was actually upset with you,” Canderous says, “Something has been eating at him since Taris, and you just happened to be there when he blew.”

“That’s no excuse!” I say, “He could have told me what was going on without berating or insulting me! He could have told me what he was feeling instead of blowing up. He’s done it before.”

“Has he?” Canderous asks rhetorically, “Has he really? Or has he just told you stories? Stories that you could have figured out on your own.”

“What do you mean?”

“His accent is obviously Telosian, and everyone knows what happened to Telos at the beginning of the war,” Canderous says. Mission nods in response to the implied question, and so does Juhani.

“Hey, I was out in the Outer Rim territories until recently, you can’t blame me for not keeping up.”

“I’m not,” he says earnestly, “But as far as Carth was concerned, he was telling you common knowledge from his own perspective. The only new piece of information - that he served directly under Karath during the Mandalorian War - is something you could have found out if you’d been digging in the Republic records, which you easily could have done on the Endar Spire.”

Well… I mean, I guess, but… “And just how do you have this insight into him?” I ask, “I thought you hated each other.”

“I don’t have to like him,” Canderous says, “Carth and I are both soldiers, warriors. Men like us are cut from the same cloth. We don’t express how we feel so easily. If he’s ever expressed his feelings to you, it was today.”

“Are you telling me I should just forgive him for blowing up at me?”

“I’m not saying you should ever forgive him,” he says with a shrug, “But you need to decide if this is a deal-breaker for you or if you want to dig deeper and keep this relationship going in some form or another.” He takes another bite of his iriaz. “And trust me, he wants you to keep going.”

Oh? I’m intrigued. “And how do you know that?”

Canderous scoffs. “Are you kidding?” he says, “He spent a whole month missing you! But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Now Mission laughs. “As if you didn’t spend the whole month thinking about Bastila!”

Oh-ho! Canderous tries to shrug that off. “And where did you hear that?”

Zaalbar chimes in, “You talk in your sleep.”

And Canderous turns bright red, that is adorable! “Hey, there’s no shame in that, Canderous,” I say to his defense, “She’s cute.”

“Perhaps,” he says neutrally, but he obviously agrees, “but as you’ve so eloquently stated, the age gap is off-putting, if nothing else.”

“Hey, it’s a turn-off for me, sure,” I say, “but Bastila’s an adult, and for all I know… she could be into that, I don’t know.”

“It does not matter whether she is or not,” Juhani says, “She is a Jedi. Such things are not permitted.”

Canderous slaps his legs finally. “There you have it. It’s not going to happen. Just an old man’s folly.”

“Don’t give up so quickly,” I say.

“I would prefer to let the matter drop,” Canderous says firmly. And now he’s red for a different reason. I’m not eager to fight him. So I throw up my hands. It’s done. And he nods his thanks.

—-

I can’t sleep but there’s absolutely nothing else I could be doing. I feel so unbelievably stupid for shouting at Rena. And I’d give anything to take it back, but she’s so headstrong and stubborn she’ll probably never forgive me.

I suppose if she were still here she’d tell me to stop moping in the cockpit. Well, I’m not moping. Well… maybe I am.

“Carth!” Rena? No, Bastila. “I’m surprised you’re still awake.”

“Hey, Bastila.” She sits down in the copilot’s chair, making use of the computer for something. “So Rena didn’t invite you on her camping trip, either,” I say, “Well, that makes me feel a little better, I guess.”

“Hmm? Oh, no, she did. I declined.”

“So I’m the only one she didn’t invite.” Great. Perfect. “She even took Teethree, but I suppose she didn’t bother to ask him.”

“No, she did,” Bastila says, “Very politely.”

“She… well, of course she did.” I know this probably seems a little foolish that this is bothering me so much. I mean it’s just a camping trip. I’ve slept outside on the cold hard ground more than my fair share. I shouldn’t be so bothered about missing another chance to do that. Plus she took Canderous so the port-side dormitory will be quiet, I won’t have to hear him mumbling about Bastila in his sleep. (And I know he’d rather Bastila didn’t know about that so I’ll keep it to myself.)

But despite all of that it does still bother me. I upset her so much that she made a point of inviting everyone but me. And it hurts a lot more than it should.

“I wouldn’t take it so hard, Carth,” Bastila says, “It’s probably for the best this way, anyway. She is a Jedi, after all.”

Did I miss something? “What are you talking about?”

She takes a short breath. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she says, standing up. What? “Good night, Carth.”

“Right.” What the hell was that about?

—-

I wasn’t sleeping well anyway, of course, but I couldn’t even pretend to sleep when T3 started beeping. Not kath hounds - there had already been a few hounds come close. T3 just fired off a couple warning shots and they retreated. It doesn’t feel like kath hounds, anyway. This feels like a different kind of familiar from that. Needless to say I grab my lightsaber and head right out.

Canderous beat me out, even slipped on his boots before coming out. Either that or he sleeps with his boots on, which is just as likely. “Seen anything yet?” I ask him.

“No... “ he says softly, “... but I can feel it.”

Mission tumbles out of her tent, with one lek draped over her head instead of on her shoulder like normal. “Whass going on?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes while Zaalbar gently places the lek back where it belongs.

Suddenly Juhani pops up from out of nowhere, running towards us. “Mandalorian raiders!” she says.

“Where the hell did you come from? Do you have a stealth field generator on all the time or something?” Because once I take a second to think about it it’s clear she’d just established a stealth field.

“A Force ability, Quatra taught me.” Neat.

“There’ll be time to chat later,” Canderous says, pointing his rifle at the incoming Mandalorian party. Mission ducks back into her tent for her vibroblade, and Zaalbar grabs a long sword (that looks an awful lot like one of mine - not that I’m complaining right now, but who else has been going through my stuff?)

A Mandalorian in red armor approaches me, flanked by two other Mandalorians and two Duros. “Ah,” he says, looking at me, “so this is the meddler. You have caused us far too much trouble for a mere Jedi.” All this for chasing some guys out of a prime camping spot?

“Now this is what I've been waiting for!” Canderous says.

But the head Mandalorian doesn’t pay any attention to him. “I will add your head to those of the other Jedi I have killed” - that sounds gross - “and take another lightsaber for my own!” He activates an energy shield. “Now you will know why the Mandalorians are feared!”

“Really,” I say, and I can’t even believe I’m saying it, “because only a coward would think to attack people while they were sleeping.” I can’t believe I didn’t keep that to myself.

He pulls out two swords. “A coward wouldn’t think to challenge two Jedi at once!”

Mission and Zaalbar have already started on the two Duros, and Canderous and T3 are engaged in a shooting match with the two other Mandalorians, leaving this one for Juhani and myself. “No, but a fool would!” Juhani jibes, standing ready with her lightsaber. I hope her form is better this time. She reaches out with the Force and whisks him into a whirlwind, leaving him quite vulnerable to my lightsaber, and I get in some good blows.

But suddenly his sword clashes against my saber when the whirlwind dies down, Juhani having moved on to help with the other Mandalorians. Great. This guy is all mine now.

He pushes with his sword. I push back. He tries to make me lose my footing. I stand firm. He cuts me. I cut back, slicing through his armor but not quite hitting flesh. He moves fast. As fast as I move.

Then he catches me in a saber lock. Through a crack in his helmet I can see his eyes, and he sees mine. “You fight like a Mandalorian,” he says, “I can see all your past battles in your eyes. You’ve fought us before.”

“And won every time,” I say, trying to keep his sword locked, “Feel like giving up?”

He smiles, I can tell from his eyes. “I was about to ask you the same,” he says, “Do you have any last words?”

I glance down. “Watch out for that grenade at your feet.”

Before he can say anything, I break the lock and jump away as far as I can. He was so busy with me that he didn’t even notice Mission come in behind him and drop the plasma grenade at his feet. He doesn’t even have time to react before he blows up, and he falls dead on the plains.

I take a deep breath and shout, “Thanks, Mission!” She cheers victoriously as Canderous guns down the last of the Mandalorians.

I check my timepiece - it’s three in the morning, but I honestly doubt anyone is going back to sleep.

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startrekandwars · 5 years ago

Text

Appearances are Deceiving

Word Count: 1919

Summary: Baves Urety finally reveals who he is to Din while also trying to avoid being killed by Bossk, a bounty hunter who is after the former Jedi.

Tags: None

AN: Written for @celebrate-the-clone-wars prompt Always A Bigger Fish

Din Djaren has been traveling with Baves for some time now. His new partner wasn't the most talkative person, but he was far from quiet. The thing that Din noticed was that Baves was mostly observant. Maybe too observant. The child seemed to like Baves, and it was hard to fault the poor kid. Baves has this... aura that puts you at ease and makes you want to like him. He's so optimistic even if he doesn't voice it. It's written all over his face.

The few times Baves has talked about his past, he just mentions his father taught him just about everything he knows. If it wasn't his father, it was one of his brothers. He also mentions that before the fall of the Empire, he worked as a bodyguard, and then decided to become a Bodyguard for hire. People used to pay this man to protect them. They used to pay him a lot.

Now is a good time for Din to observe Baves. He was an inch, maybe two taller. He could only be a couple years older than him too, though it's hard to tell because Baves keeps his face clean shaven. Baves says that he doesn't remember how old he is, and judging by how familiar the miralian is with a blaster, the mandalorian believes him. Baves isn't the strongest person. He looks like he should struggle to hold the child, all long limbs, and not a lot of muscle. He's also flexible. Din has watched Baves twist in ways he didn't realize a humanoid could twist their body. Baves looks like he couldn't hurt a fly, and he often tends to talk his way out of problems. It often works too. His royal blue eyes help soften his face, and the fact that there's a permanent smile on his face helps a lot. Even with out that, there are the beginnings of smile lines around the corner of his eyes. Din has never seen Baves's hair, and he had a feeling he never would. He could guess that his hair is jet black, if he were to judge it based off of the man's eyebrows.

Din just can't place his finger on it, but he can tell Baves is holding back. He's too aware of things to not be holding back. It's like he knows what people expect him to be able to do, and he tries to embody those ideas.

Even now, as they were walking through the market and Baves looks like he doesn't have a care in the world, Din has also learned that he is drinking in as much information as he can. "Oooooooh, Din look at this scarf!" Baves picked up a dark green head scarf with teal embroidery in miralian styles. "It's stunning!"

"You have seven scarves on the ship, Baves." Din countered, watching the man. None the less, the look in his eyes was hard to say no to. "When would you even wear it?"

"I don't know, around. I wear all seven of those scarves by the way." Baves countered, looking back at the scarf. "It's very pretty... But I suppose I don't need another one until something unthinkable happens to a scarf, like a grease stain." He put the scarf back, bowed politely, and kept walking. "I'm going to see if I can find any jogan fruit."

Din simply nodded and watched Baves walk away. Oh yes, that man could wrap just about anyone around his finger. Not because he was trying to be malicious, but because he was just so... kind. He was the sort of person you would want to protect.

"Is that young man with you? Because if so, good for you. I don't know what a Mandalorian such as yourself would see in a man as kind as him, but if you want to win his heart, you should probably buy that scarf." The shop keeper said, sounding amused. She was a Miralian, but unlike Baves, she didn't cover her hair all the time, it was jet black and feel to her shoulders.

"I'm not-" How does he explain that he's not romantically with that man? "He's an associate of mine. We're not involved."

"A pity, you don't find men like him everywhere in the galaxy. He's really one of a kind." She answered, looking back at Din before going to help a different customer.

Din simply nodded. "That he is." The bounty hunter started to walk in the direction Baves had walked off in until he heard blaster fire and screams from that direction. Then he started to sprint.

In the middle of the commotion was Baves, standing light on his feet, but looking relaxed. "Well that was rude!"

"Baves Urety- I am here to collect the bounty on your head. You can come quietly or loudly, but you will be coming with me." Bossk, a Trandoshan. And a member of the guild. Apparently there was a puck on Baves, and if Bossk was here to collect, then it was some bounty.

Baves sighed. He looked... bored. This happens to him a lot. "You know, a wise man once told me that there are always bigger fish out there. So you think you're the bigger fish in the ocean?" His question was really more of a statement. "Listen, Bossk. I just want to buy some jogan fruit and then I'll get out of your way- I'm not really looking for a fig-" When Bossk shot at Baves again, he side stepped, like he knew it was coming without even taking a breath from his sentence, "-ht today. We could leave in peace."

"No way, that bounty on your head can buy me a small planet!" Bossk countered. "Now come quietly. I would hate to make a mess of you."

The Miralian just shrugged. That was it. Bossk has two inches on Baves and several pounds of muscle on him. Anyone else should be very afraid of staring down Bossk, but the fact that there has been noise so far means that Baves Urety had managed to avoid Bossk for this long. "Fine, we'll do it your way. I can't give you a real fight to remember, but I can at least give you a run for your credits." That was when Baves chose to make his first move. He moved fast, faster than anyone can just run. He avoided Bossk's follow up shots with ease, a practiced ease, before jumping high over the Trandoshan, flipping and landing quietly on top of the roof of a shop. "But first you'll have to catch me!"

Din could have sworn Baves glanced in his direction. He was acting as a distraction, buying Din time to get back to the ship and make sure that the child was still safe. He was doing this intentionally. Din didn't even have time to consider shouting Baves's name. The miralian was already running in the exact opposite direction. So Din was running towards the ship.

~*~*~

Bossk isn't an easy bounty hunter to avoid, Baves just had to hope Din understood what he was doing, that he was buying them time. Besides, he was a bit of a romantic who had trusted Din with his lightsaber, even if Din didn't know he had it. So the name of the game was evade Bossk long enough to get him out of civilization. Or at least innocent bystanders. "Wow- they call you a bounty hunter? I wonder what the Score Keeper thinks of you? I've fought clankers that have better aim than you do!" That being said, Bossk was getting familiar with how Baves was evading him.

Once Baves could see the end of the market, he grinned and used the force to leap even further than he normally tries, turning around in the air and firing two rounds at Bossk. They were both close but neither of them hit the bounty hunter. "Kriff I miss my lightsaber."

"Running isn't like you- Urety, but it makes for a good hunt!" Bossk kept shooting at him, and Baves was all out of cover. He's good, he can evade people shooting at him for a while, but without his lightsaber, he was going to get shot eventually.

"Well, I've really needed the exercise and it's been a while since people have tried to kill me, so I'm just drawing this out for as long as I can!" He countered, trying to find anything he could use to his advantage.

Bossk shot at him again, and this time, Baves decided to get up close and personal. If he was too close for Bossk to use his gun effectively, then the former jedi could last a little bit longer. Again, Baves sprinted, using the force to move even faster and decided to disarm the Trandoshan with the force, flinging the weapon out of his hands, "Now this is what I expect when I made you my prey!"

"You talk too much," Baves countered, blocking the flurry of punches and opting to try to knock Bossk onto the ground. Sure he could use the force but he tries not to.

Bossk had a wicked smile on his face, and the Force warned Baves of what was about to happen before he could process it. He ducked low, barely avoiding a flurry of blasts from an assassin droid. "Kriff!" He was standing too close.

Overhead, he could hear a ship. Din's ship. Din didn't say anything on the ramp, he just tossed Baves his lightsaber. Din trusts him enough not to just disappear with this apparently.

Baves caught it and ignited it, the green blade humming into life, just in time to deflect the shots back at the assassin droid, taking it out. "That's better."

Bossk hissed right before Baves hit him over the head with his lightsaber hilt, "Oh shut up please! I've had enough of you for one life time."

Instead of waiting for Din to land, he just leapt up onto the ramp, turning his lightsaber back off and handing the hilt back over, "Here."

"No- I'm a Mandalorian, weapons are a part of my religion, and I know just what you're doing when you're handing that over to me." Din countered, closing the ramp once Baves was back inside. "You're a jedi."

"Well that's one thing to take away from today- you got the jogan fruit?" Baves had been focused on trying to do what he felt was right until he saw the real prize of today. "How?"

"The shopkeeper was grateful since you managed to not destroy any of his property. I also got you that scarf." Baves didn't need to force to know that Din was watching him as he set the lightsaber down on the seat, picking up a jogan fruit. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The miralian turned and shrugged, "Mandalorians hate the jedi, for good reason, but you need someone to teach the child how to use the force. And I am a Jedi."

Din looked at Baves, his expression unreadable with his helmet on. Perhaps that's for the best. "So you trusted me with your life... You were right about one thing though, Bossk wasn't the bigger fish."

"True, but there will always be another. Thank you for coming back for me." Baves's signature smile was back on his face, but it was sincere.

"Least I can do. Besides, you're handy in a fight." With that, Din climbed the ladder back into the cockpit.

#oc: Baves Urety #Din Djaren #The Mandalorian #Bossk #star wars #writing wednesday drabbles

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tenroseforeverandever · 8 years ago

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Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 21: December 24, 2036

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Rose is feeling melancholy about having an empty nest, and the Doctor suggests a quick trip in the TARDIS for hot chocolate to cheer her up.

Notes: Hello, everyone! I hope you all spent the last week or so with days full of peace, joy, and love.

Today’s chapter references an earlier story of mine, The Cupid’s Arrow, revised edition.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci, my endless gratitude. <3<3

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Hot Chocolate.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2036

Dear Father Christmas,

It just doesn’t feel like Christmas this year. The girls are off studying (that’s nothing new), but Wilfred has left us too. He’s decided to do a bit of travelling on his own this year, a world tour. He’s a restless soul, he is, not a scholarly type like his sisters (they can buckle down and study when they need to). No, Wilf’s much more like his Dad, always needing to be on the move. He’s spending Christmas on a beach in Australia, surfing and eating shrimp from the barbie, and generally having a good ol’ time.

So, I guess that makes me and the Doctor official “empty nesters”, yeah?

Now I know how mum felt all those years ago, when I left to travel in the TARDIS. She must have been so lonely. At least I have my Doctor to keep me company; she had no one. And, at the time, I never gave it a passing thought how alone and worried she must have been… just the way my babies probably don’t think about me.

Look at me, blubbing away. Just as well I came out here to the treehouse. The Doctor would have been worried to see me cry. It’s been happening a lot recently. I’ll have to face the music soon enough, though. I can feel his concern, but at least he knows I’m safe, and he understands when I feel like I need some time to myself (well apart from Snowflake: she’s curled in my lap. You’re not leaving your mum, are you, darling?)

It’s a little chilly out here, to be honest, but being up in the treehouse makes me feel so much closer to the kids. So many memories here, and besides the view is unparalleled! The sky is so clear tonight, and the view from here is spectacular, though I can’t see many of the stars right now; the moon is directly overhead, in its last quarter but still so bright it’s hard to see anything else. But it is a gorgeous thing all on its own.

I’m always in awe of the fact that I can actually make out some of the Lunar colonies. So much has changed in the last few years, and Torchwood has been at the centre of it all. The Doctor contributed his extensive knowledge about space bases (after all, he’s run through so many in his lifetime!) and supervised the design team and the actual installation. It never gets old, witnessing first hand, humans taking those first few steps into space, especially since I know what the future has in store for them (the privileges of being a time traveller.)

The Lunar colonies are actually becoming very well established now (you’ll need to start visiting the moon on Christmas Eve, Santa, if you haven’t already. The first official Lunarians… Selenites… (I dunno… The debate for a proper name is still on. Mum just calls them all Loonies!) were born there early this year. I don’t know how you’ll keep up once humans spread across the universe!)

Of course, Hope has decided to be a part of it all: she has a position as a physician on Lunar Base Shepard lined up for the coming year, once she graduates. She loves the idea of “pioneering” and has her sights set on eventually going on to Mars once proper bases are established there. That’ll be a while though, and thank goodness! The Doctor had a very bad reaction when she mentioned it. I’ve very rarely seen him so bloody frightened: pure fear and dread. He never could explain why, exactly, just that he had a feeling it was a very bad idea and muttered on about fixed points and such for hours afterwards.

But that’s years off. In the meantime, I’m just missing my babies so much. It’s funny how the holidays are the times we tend to miss them most. The rest of the year, since Wilfred went travelling, me and the Doctor (and Snowflake) have been too busy off adventuring in the TARDIS to really dwell on their absence too much. It’s almost like old times, and I mean really old times, back in the Prime Universe: the two of us; lots of running; saving the universe… only a bit slower than we used to (not exactly spring chickens, us!) and with a lot more vacationing in between… and with a cat (something my Prime Universe Doctor would never have entertained!) But now, it’s all so completely brilliant! It’s so good to know we can still make a difference out there in our own little way.

But now, standing still, that’s when it sinks in… the loneliness.

We’re only really here for the Hand in Hand feast, and Mum’s New Year’s Gala, back in full swing this year, now that she’s fully recuperated. It’ll be at least a full week before we’re back running through the stars!

But that doesn’t mean we can’t go for a short trip, does it?

Ah ha! Right on cue, here he comes: My Doctor. He must have felt my itchy feet over the bond, because he’s beaming away and shouting up at me “Where to, Rose Tyler?”

I guess I’m off on another great adventure… even if it’s just for a few hours!

--ooOoo--

We’re back, Santa! Made it in just in time for me to finish my letter to you… it’s almost midnight!

So, I was shivering when we set off, and the Doctor decided we should go somewhere for hot chocolate. Who am I to argue with that? Years ago, he’d discovered there was a Planet Valentine in this universe. We’d been to the one in the Prime Universe, back when he was still wearing leather (that was an adventure and a half!) and the Doctor had proclaimed one of the cafés there (The Cupid’s Arrow) had the best chocolate treats anywhere in the universe, hands down. We’d yet to properly visit this universe’s version and agreed it was finally time to discover if it was up to scratch. Sure enough, both the planet and The Cupid’s Arrow were just as tacky and over-the-top as I remember, and the hot chocolate was just as gorgeous.

I briefly wondered why we had never come here before (the kids would have had a blast!) but as we were seated at our table, and it ascended on its anti-grav platform through showers of confetti, I looked around me at all the other patrons, and all the reasons why this was not a “family” adventure came rushing back to me. I could feel my cheeks flushing in embarrassment and, I admit, a bit of arousal. This was indeed the planet of love, and many of the customers of The Cupid’s Arrow were very, very, very… sexually uninhibited! The Doctor, hearing my thoughts very clearly, waggled his eyebrows at me and gave me a cheeky wink.

Laughing and very glad it was just the two of us, we placed our orders on the touch screen. I should mention, our family is very particular about how we take our hot chocolate. Me, Charlie, and Wilfred all prefer loads of miniature marshmallows, but the Doctor and Hope prefer whipped cream with chocolate curls. And we always get into a huge debate about which way is best, the whole family, all five of us… together. So, of course, while we waited for our cocoa to arrive, me and the Doctor couldn’t resist starting in on the familiar argument. But it just wasn’t the same without our three not-so-little trouble-makers contributing their two pennies worth, and it didn’t take long before I was crying again.

Blimey, it doesn’t take much to set me off these days. Mum thinks it’s an early sign of menopause (most of my uterus may be gone, but the doctors managed to save my ovaries, so she may very well be right. I’m about the right age for it: forty-seven.) Poor Doctor, he has a loooong few years ahead of him with menopausal-me. And he’s just so lovely and sweet, holding me when I need it, and letting me know how loved I am (because it’s easy to forget when I get into a state like this.)

It wasn’t long before the sparkly, fuchsia Droid-waiter appeared with our hot chocolates. It fluttered its long lashes at me, its heart-shaped deely-bopper eyes bobbing slowly as it expressed concern for my tears. It was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but smile and thank it for asking after me. After it flew away, me and the Doctor broke into gales of laughter, again. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs. “Better?”

Oh, I felt so much better, and apologized for being such a nutter.

He grinned at me, took a swig of his chocolate, and with a full, whipped cream mustache, leaned in and gave me a big, sloppy, creamy kiss. “Now you look like a nutter too!”

I gave him a (loving) shove and told him he looked like one, as well.

“Oh, yes!”

And, oh Santa! I made a startling discovery as I licked the cream from my lips (and then from his.) I discovered that I really, really liked hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate curls, and he discovered that he enjoyed marshmallows, especially the little gooey bits that stuck to the edges of my mouth. So we decided on an exchange… and then, well… we might, possibly have got rather enthusiastically involved in the uninhibited spirit of Planet Valentine. I even forgot about my children for a little while there… But I did remember to pick up some chocolatey treats for them and my mum before we left.

I hope I’m not on your naughty list, now…

Happy Christmas, Santa. I bet you and Mrs. Claus would enjoy the Peppermint Hot Chocolate at The Cupid’s Arrow. It’s so good! Love to both of you, the elves, and the reindeer too!

Rose

#doctorroseprompts #kid fic #tentoo x rose #hurt/comfort #christmas #angst #love #family #fluff #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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chivalin · 8 years ago

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Alliance Base Bartender (Jonjar Tinglee)

640 words, Alien

Rating & Tags: General; Reflection

Notes: Alliance base has a new bartender from a small, secluded planet.

You were a bartender back at home too, Nissa had said. I see no reason why you shouldn’t be one in here too. Jonjar had not seen any reason either, especially when they had still mourned their own bar, the Tinglee’s, that had been burned to the ground by the Eternal Empire. That’s the spirit! I’m sure it will be fun!

“Fun. Right,” Jonjar said grudgingly. They were standing behind the bar counter, and were in the middle of closing. Jonjar’s eyes flickered to the customers who they still felt lost about as they had grown in a small planet, consisted of only their own kind. Nissa had said that the ‘culture shock’ would wear of eventually, but Jonjar wasn’t so sure about it.

What they had understood was that there were two species- No. Sides, Jonjar reminded themself, and scratched their head, starting to get frustrated. These two sides, the Republic and the Empire, had been fighting a lot and done a truce. However, they had continued fighting again but then a different Empire, Eternal one, had crushed them both under heel.

Thinking about any of it, made Jonjar very confused. They had never been that big on following any other-worldly news. Sure, they had heard about wars and what not, but those had never affected their little home planet.

Until now.

“Are you deaf?” a sharp voice came in front of Jonjar, who blinked. During their pondering, a red-skinned person, a woman?, had come to them. Red-skinned wore a lightsaber on their hip, which made Jonjar swallow.

Everyone in the base was not only divided by their side and race, but also what they could do. Despite Nissa’s insistence that “Jedi” were good, and “Sith” should be watched out for, Jonjar didn’t see any difference between them. They had witnessed both sides using the “Force” and it had terrified them to no end.

“Ah,” Jonjar said to the red-skinned. “What would you like to have?” Jonjar asked and when the red-skinned’s brow rose, they realized what they had forgotten. “-my lord,” Jonjar added hastily. Sith looked pleased and sat down, pointing at a bottle.

Jonjar gave it to them without hesitation, and watched how they began drinking, chugging big gulps straight from the bottle. Jonjar waited a little while, in case they wanted something more, before resuming their duties. After they had scrubbed down the counter, they nearly jumped when the Sith spoke again.

“These damn Jedi,” they said and lifted their eyes to Jonjar who stared back at them with widened eyes. However, they quickly recovered. Even if red-skinned was a Sith, they were still their customer. Jonjar nodded solemnly. “Like, I understand why we have to work with them,” Sith said. “But, I still don’t have to like it.”

“I understand,” Jonjar said, even though they didn’t. The red-skinned seemed encouraged to continue speaking. “The way they swagger around, like they own the place and have the guts to tell me, that they are simply walking around! Bah! Who would believe that?”

Jonjar continued nodding, agreeing to things they didn’t know much about. The Sith quieted down after a while which gave Jonjar time to get everything else done.

When they, the red-skinned and the security droid were the only ones in the room, the Sith spoke up again, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Jonjar said automatically even though they were quite bewildered. Apparently, some things stayed the same no matter where they were or who their customers were. “Hopefully, you’ll last longer than the last bartender,” Sith continued and laughed.

They got up and left, leaving Jonjar behind.

Well, that’s one more day survived, Jonjar thought and closed the bar. There was a small smile on their face when they headed towards their sleeping quarters. Maybe being in the Alliance wasn’t so bad after all.

#swtor #swtor fic #swtor oc #chivjon #chivoth

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ri-writing · 8 years ago

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Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day

Title: Cassian Andor and the No Good, Very Bad Day Rating: PG? Mild cursing, and Cassian kills someone Summary: Cassian isn't sure what he did to deserve this punishment, but ultimately, it doesn't matter. He'll follow orders – even if they are to bring General Cracken's teenage son with him on a mission to purchase a datacard. At least it's Taanab. What could go wrong on Taanab? Disclaimer: I have been ficcing it for 20 years, but I still own nothing.

Note - I wrote this originally in December 2016. I wasn’t planning on really sharing it - it was meant to be me getting Feels out of my system - but there hasn’t been as much R1 stuff on Tumblr lately and that makes me sad. So this is me trying to add at least one other R1 post to the Tumblr verse.

(Oh, and I really am going to finish that Jyn, Bodhi, and Mon fic. Promise.)

Dramatis Personae: General Airen Cracken (Alliance Intelligence) Captain Cassian Andor (Alliance Intelligence) Talon Karrde (Smuggler and Information Broker for Car'das organization) Pash Cracken (15 year old kid) Wes Janson (16 year old kid) Approx. 1 BBY Despite what Cracken said, Cassian Andor knew he was being punished for something. No one was assigned a babysitting mission when they were doing quality work. He mentally ran through the past few months, but found not one thing that Cracken could realistically take issue with. He was given jobs. He got them done. The Alliance received what they needed. Open and closed. And yet, Cassian could find no other rational for being told to take a kid with him than babysitting mission. Of course it was a babysitting mission, he told himself. They were on Taanab. The world was hardly a hotbed of useful information, unless one was particularly excited on the growing conditions of turnips. Meeting an information broker on this type of world was the sort of thing that not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess up. Behind him, he heard a crash and shut his eyes. Correction. Not even Cracken's greenest recruit could mess it up – unless that recruit was Cracken's own son. If they didn't look so similar, Cassian would have sworn they could not possibly be related.

Why Cracken insisted the boy accompany him was beyond Cassian. The only explanation Cracken gave was: “Pash needs experience.” Roughly translated, that meant Cracken saw some sort of potential in his son as an intelligence operative. Cassian was quite sure that was wishful thinking on the general's part. Anyone with even the slightest bit of common sense could tell that Pash Cracken would make a terrible spy. He was hardly the sort who could make himself look forgettable – lanky and awkward, with bright red hair sticking out in several directions, a face full of freckles, and clothes that were just a bit too baggy. He also had all of no stealth ability. His track record in the fifteen minutes they'd been off the speeder bus spoke for itself - the kid had managed to knock over three fruit stands and trip over his own feet so many times that Cassian lost count. How he was going to get the kid through the open air market that lay between him and the meet point for Cracken's contact was a whole other problem. Steeling himself, he turned to survey the latest round of damage. Pash was scrambling to collect some sort of bright pink fruit and trying to return it to a stand in front of a grocer. Nothing looked permanently harmed. It probably could have been worse. Probably. He briefly debated sending the kid back to the speeder bus depot to wait for him. Tempting as it was, he suspected it would only result in being demoted even further in Cracken's opinion. The only thing that could be worse than being demoted to babysitting a child and going on a joke of an assignment was having no assignment at all. He'd given up too much for the rebellion to let Pash Cracken be the end of his Intelligence career. “Sorry.” The kid returned the last of the fruit to the stand, then hurried over to where he was waiting. Cassian gave him a long look, considered ten different ways to chew him out from here until next Sunday, and swallowed all of them. “We're late.” He turned back towards the street. “Don't touch anything else.” Pash fell into step beside him and dutifully shoved his hands in his pockets as if to say See? Cannot touch. “Is there anything I should be doing?” “Not touching anything,” Cassian reminded him. “Anything else?” Pash asked hopefully. “Is there anyone I'm supposed to look out for? Suspicious people? Contacts?” “No.” He turned into the market and prayed to whatever Taanabian deities existed that this would all be over soon. “Should I count red shirts?” Pash added. Don't ask, Andor. You don't want to know the answer. Despite his better judgment, he heard himself do the exact thing he'd decided against half a heartbeat earlier. “Red shirts?” “Dad says you should always pay attention to your surroundings. We play this game where we walk through a crowd and, when we're on the other side, I have to tell him how many red shirts I see,” Pash explained, as if these sorts of behaviors were normal father-son bonding activities. “Sometimes, he changes the color, so I can't get away with planning for the questions in advance. When we're around pilots, it can also be helmets.” He was right. He hadn't wanted to know. “You don't have to count shirts.” “Do you have another lesson I'm supposed to work on?” Pash asked. “No.” “Captain Andor?” Pash asked as they began to cut across the market. What could the kid possibly want to ask him now? Cassian was sure they'd depleted all possible sources of questions. He suppressed a sigh. “Yes?” “Dad said we're picking up some information about Imperial shipments from someone who works for Jorj Car'das.” Pash said. Cassian's shoulders tensed. Why not announce it to the entire planet? At least, he reminded himself, no one on Taanab cared what they were doing. He'd seen all of three stormtroopers since landing. All three were lazily resting with planetary control officers at customs checkpoints in the spaceport. Even the Empire knew there was nothing of use to the Rebellion on Taanab. Nonetheless, it was stupid to tempt fate. Cassian ground his teeth together and made a mental note to explain how the galaxy worked to Pash Cracken once they were back on base. “Yes.” “That doesn't make any sense.” Pash frowned. “Car'das – he's got connections to the Empire. What's to stop him from selling us out? They'd know what shipments we'd be targeting, and could set a trap. You don't actually trust him, do you?” Cassian could count the people he trusted on one hand without using all his fingers – and even one of those people was a droid. “Of course not.” “So then why....oh.” Pash said as they came to a stop outside an old building bearing the sign Ye Olde Ale Hall. “You're counting on Car'das selling us out.” He looked thoughtful as he worked through it. “The Imperials will be looking for a raid at the wrong places, meaning it'll be easier to go after a different target.” He had to hand it to the kid. He'd started seeing different ways information could be used. Cassian nodded once. “Something like that. Now, listen. You.” He gestured at Pash, “Are going to wait here. I'm going to go in and talk with this contact.” Pash pouted, looking even younger than his fifteen years. “Why can't I come?” Because my orders didn't say you had to meet Car'das, and I can't trust you not to blow this. “Because I told you to wait here.” He stuck the boy with a look. “I could have told you to wait at the depot.” Pash sighed in what Cassian defined as 'that privileged obnoxious teenager way,' but leaned against the side of the building and got comfortable. “And don't talk to anyone.” Cassian added. “You won't let me do anything, so no chance of that happening,” Pash muttered under his breath. He crossed his arms against his chest, but stayed put. For half a heartbeat, he wondered if keeping the kid outside was safest. He didn't know what was happening inside, but, if he brought Pash with him, at least he could put himself between danger and the child that he was supposed to ensure did not die. At the same time, he also wasn't sure what to expect from anyone associated with Jorj Car'das. A man did not get a reputation for brutality for no reason, and that sort of man would value others who shared his opinions on those types of topics. Cassian took one last look around the small central city. There were mothers pushing strollers, people buying vegetables, and a teenage boy trying to impress a group of girls by a nearby fountain. Not exactly a war zone. It's Taanab. He reminded himself. How much trouble can one teenager get into in a farmer's market on Taanab? “Stay here.” He repeated as he ducked inside the door. He'd expected some sort of hole in the wall or seedy bar. Instead, he found a sparsely populated, halfway decent restaurant. A few nicely dressed Bothans were holding some sort of business meeting over a meal in one corner. A young couple appeared to have opted for an afternoon caf as a first date, while a man with thick black hair and a shirt that likely cost more than Cassian's entire life perused a wine list at the bar. A woman in a waitress uniform had even taken up residence at a large table inside the door and appeared to be doing schoolwork. For the first time in a long time, Cassian found he didn't belong. How, he wondered, had no one bothered to include this information in his orders? While he should have known that anything safe enough for Cracken's son to tag along on wouldn't be the sorts of places he normally frequented, someone should have warned him to at least bring a jacket that didn't look like it had been to a war zone. “Ah.” The man with the wine list laid it down on the counter. “Something tells me you're looking for me.” Cassian nodded. “If you're waiting for Schopf.” “I was.” The man gave him a thin smile, then asked conversationally, “Will he be joining us?” “Unfortunately, he won't be able to make it.” It was, after all, quite difficult to make a meeting when you're dead. Another good man. Another mission incomplete. “I'm sorry to hear that.” The man did look sorry. “He had a rare appreciation for good food.” He pushed the wine list across the bar and fixed his full attention on Cassian. “So.” This time, the man's smile carried all the way up to his ice blue eyes, “What can Jorj Car'das do for you?” There was no way this man was Car'das. He was too young – at most, only a few years older than Cassian. A lackey, then. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse. It didn't matter; his personal feelings on the issue weren't important. “I understand you have shipping records.” “Ah. Yes.” The man motioned to the bartender to pour him a glass from the bottle she was holding. “Do you enjoy wine, Mr. …?” “Not particularly.” Cassian replied. “That's a shame. They have a local variety on world that is quite good.” The man watched him carefully. When Cassian didn't react, he shook his head slightly, as if disappointed. “Well then. Shipping.” Shipping schedules for Imperial supply freighters. “Yes.” “I hear it's a booming market out there these days.” The man picked up his wine glass and sniffed at it as if they were in a vineyard tasting room and not a building alongside a street market. “Cargoes going everywhere, comprised of every sort of thing imaginable.” “So I've heard.” Cassian agreed. He tasted the wine and smiled slightly. “Good vintage.” He set the glass on the edge of the bar and gave Cassian his full attention once more. “Well then, down to business. I'm afraid I'll have to ask for cash. Car'das is a bit behind the times and refuses to deal with accounts.” “Cash is fine.” Cash didn't leave a paper trail. Cassian couldn't imagine anyone would be stupid enough to pay by account – especially since that account information could easily be sold to the highest bidder. “Assuming you've got what was promised Schopf.” “If I didn't, I wouldn't be a very good businessman.” He smiled again. “You can't honestly think we're all savages.” Businessmen. Was that what they were calling themselves these days? Before he had a chance to respond, his contact's comlink chirped. The man gave him an apologetic look, murmured, “Excuse me one moment,” and motioned for Cassian to check out the datacard before directing his attention to the comlink. “Go ahead.” Cassian pulled his datapad out and slid the card into it. Pages of dates, shipment numbers, and freighter IDs sprung to life. He pretended to inspect it as he tried to catch what he could of the conversation. “And what sort of shape are they in?” Car'das' man asked. Cassian strained his ears to try to catch the other voice, but the comlink's sound was turned down just low enough that, to anyone even slightly outside the range, it sounded like nothing but a garbled mess. “Ah. Yes, I'm interested.” The man said softly. “Tell Ms. Hallik I'm finishing up with a client, but I'd like to meet her and see if we could do business. Say – an hour? Thank you.” Stowing the comlink, he turned back to Cassian. “Sorry about that. One of my colleagues stumbled upon a potentially profitable deal. I trust the datacards are acceptable.” He couldn't see anything wrong with them. The information certainly looked legit. Cassian nodded and handed the stack of credits over to Schopf's contact. The man smiled genteelly as he pocketed the money. “A pleasure. If you'll excuse me?” Yes, go find a new home for whatever spice or guns someone wants to sell you. Cassian nodded at him. He withdrew the datacard from his datapad and stashed it in an inner pocket to his coat. “Oh,” the man laid a few cred chips on the bar to cover his tab, “One more thing, Captain Andor. If you're interested in doing business in the future, just contact the owner of this establishment and ask her to put you in touch with Sabacc. She'll be able to arrange whatever meetings are necessary.” Cassian blinked. His mind tried to put the pieces together – tried to figure out how Sabacc (what kind of a name was Sabacc anyway?) knew the first thing about him – and reached two potential solutions: either Schopf had mentioned him (possible) or there was a mole in Alliance Intelligence (something he did not want to consider but now had to). His potential new contact smiled once more as he slid his hands into his pockets and walked towards the door. Cassian had half a mind to tail the man before he remembered the flaw in that plan. It was going to be impossible to tail anyone with Pash Cracken tagging along. He sighed to himself, then pushed away from the bar. Finding out more about Sabacc-the-man would have to wait. At least, he told himself as he crossed the restaurant once more, the mission was technically a success. He had the information. No one had died. He wasn't sitting in an infirmary somewhere. All things considered, it was better than most of the things he did for the Alliance. He blinked in the sudden brightness of the sun as he stepped outside and turned towards where he left Pash. The wall the kid been holding up earlier was now standing just fine on its own. Damn. What part of stay here had been that hard to understand? Cassian spotted the kid a moment later, standing by a nearby vegetable vendor with the boy from the fountain as they poured over a magazine. The boys' eyes were wide as they stared at the images. Pathetic. The Galaxy's Worst Spy could not only not understand the concept of orders, but was easily distracted by a skin magazine. Cassian strolled towards the kids. The other boy pointed at something in the magazine they held between them, and Pash nodded enthusiastically. Cassian snatched it from their hands. Rolling it up, he glared at his charge. “I thought I told you not talk to anyone.” Pash frowned. “I thought you meant people who could be dangerous.” “Anyone,” Cassian repeated. “But,” Pash tried again, “Wes had a magazine about TIE fighters,” he said as if that made it all better. How was he even supposed to respond to that? How? Wordlessly, Cassian unrolled the magazine. Imperial propaganda images stared back at him. He wasn't sure if that was better or worse than a skin magazine. Deciding that was Airen Cracken's problem, he shoved the magazine into the inner pocket of his coat. “Is this your dad?” The other kid (apparently Wes: owner of TIE magazines) piped up. “Maybe he can help us.” He looked up at Cassian for a moment, then asked, “How do you get girls to talk to you? I've tried 'hi,'” he began counting on his fingers, “And compliments, and jokes. And my new buddy here said he tries to talk with them about spaceships-” “We're leaving.” Cassian interrupted. “But this is important information,” Wes protested. Cassian ignored him. Motioning at Pash to follow him, he started into the market once more. “Sorry.” Pash muttered over his shoulder at his new friend. “Bye Pash,” Wes called after them as they rounded the corner of the building. “Bye, Mr. Cracken.” Cassian froze. Beside him, he felt Pash falter at the sudden stop. “What's wrong?” Pash looked around the market in confusion. “You told him your name?” Cassian asked softly. “Yes?” Pash's confusion doubled. Cassian resisted the urge to find the nearest wall and repeatedly bang his head against it. Airen Cracken's son thought telling people who he was ranked among his better ideas. Tilting his head back, he stared at the sky and counted slowly backwards from ten. What kind of idiot...? He grabbed Pash by the back of his jacket and pulled him behind the nearest building. Seeing the empty alleyway, he turned to face the kid. “Listen. When you aren't on Contruum, or with your father, and someone asks you your name, give a fake one.” “I'm a nobody,” Pash reminded him. “It's not like I'm Bail Organa. My name is as worthless as if it was John Antilles.” Cassian lowered his voice, “Do you have any idea how valuable you would be to the Imperials? Your father liberated a planet. He's helped set up resistance cells across the galaxy. He's one of the biggest thorns in the Empire's side. What do you think would happen if they could get their hands on you?” Judging by the look on Pash's face, he never thought that through before. And, Cassian suspected, right about now, he was probably trying to envision how his father would rescue him should the unthinkable happen. For half a moment, he considered letting Pash keep his childish illusions...but he couldn't. Cracken clearly thought it was a good idea to send Pash with one of his operatives. Pash needed to know what that meant. “Best case scenario?” Cassian told him, “They kill you quickly. Most likely, though, they'll slowly torture you to get every bit of information you might possibly know. You'd be surprised how much valuable information is already in your brain – things your father told you, things you've overheard, things about your family. You might tell yourself that you would never tell them – we like to think that – but you will. In the end, you will. Everyone always does. And after they've gotten everything out of you, after you've betrayed each and every secret you have, they will kill you. I can see what you're thinking, but before you kid yourself that there's a rescue coming, it's not. You aren't valuable to the Rebellion. Your father might love you – he might even be willing to die for you - but he can't send dozens of good men to their deaths to rescue someone who doesn't gain the Rebellion anything. They capture you. They torture you. They kill you. That is the only way it ends.” Cassian watched as Pash's face continued to lose color with each word he heard. When he still didn't speak, Cassian added, “Do you understand?” Silently, Pash swallowed, then nodded. “Good.” He held up two fingers. “Next lesson. Unless you are on base, never imagine for a second that you are safe. To the average person, Taanab is not dangerous. It's a farming world and Imperial oversight is lax. Just because they're lax, doesn't mean you are, because your stakes,” he pushed a finger into Pash's chest, “Are too high. You have everything to lose. The moment you forget that, or discount that? Is the moment you put yourself and your team at risk. And if your commanding officer gives you an order, you follow it unless you have a damn good reason not to. Do you understand?” Pash nodded again. “Good.” Cassian turned towards the entrance to the alley. “Let's go. Do not touch anything. Do not talk to anyone. Stay by me.” For the first time all day, Pash obeyed, no questions asked. The boy did not make a single peep as they waited for the speeder bus. He didn't even kick at the pebbles in front of his feet. Most of the time, he hung his head and stared at his shoes. Given what he'd seen so far from Pash Cracken, Cassian doubted it was an act. He almost felt sympathy for the boy, but pushed it away. Airen Cracken wanted Pash to learn about intelligence work. Cassian had told him what that meant. The sooner Pash came to terms with how war worked – with how the galaxy worked – the better. People didn't survive long in this sort of work. The ones who made it a little longer than most knew how to play the game, knew how to avoid stupid mistakes, and knew how to think on their feet. It didn't matter how many red shirts there were. It mattered whether you got the information you needed into the hands of the person who needed it. Period. The end. The transport bus slid to a stop in front of them and its doors whispered open. Cassian motioned for Pash to climb aboard, then dropped two cred chips into the bin in the front of the vehicle. A cold blast of air conditioning hit him in the face. Who, he wondered, felt the need for air conditioning on a day like today? It didn't matter. In thirty minutes, they'd be at the spaceport. He could probably get a slot to leave within an hour after that. His time babysitting was drawing to a close. Cassian leaned back in his seat and propped his knees on the back of the seat ahead of him. He resisted the urge to pull out his datapad and scroll through the information they'd purchased from Car'das to find anything of use. Whatever was there wasn't his business unless someone higher up decided it was. Considering how far he'd fallen, he doubted anyone wanted to trust him with any sort of useful information at the moment. Beside him, Pash looked out the window and shivered. Cassian watched him – watched the stubborn look building around the kid's eyes – and then shrugged out of his jacket. “Here.” Pash looked at him. “I'm warm,” he offered by way of explanation. Pash took the jacket and pulled it on with a mumbled, “Thanks.” “Guard that with your life.” Cassian told him. “Because it's your favorite?” Pash asked. “No.” Cassian tapped the side of the jacket with the datacard. “Because it has my cred chips and your magazine.” Pash nodded and zipped the jacket as if this would keep everything safe. It would, Cassian had to admit, protect against pickpockets. He hoped that the kid had done it for that reason. It would show risk management – or at least thinking. “When we get to the ship,” Pash finally spoke, “Can I do anything to help you?” “You can com home and let them know we're en route,” Cassian told him. “I can fly.” Pash's session of silence was apparently over. He should never have given the kid his coat. It wasn't meant as a silent everything between us is fine now. It was a I don't want to explain to the man who holds the future of my career in his hands how you died of hypothermia. “Can and will are two different things,” Cassian replied as the transport came to a stop. “I'll fly. You'll be on communications.” He tapped Pash on the shoulder. “This is us.” The spaceport was slightly busier than it had been when they arrived. While that wasn't saying much, “busy” on Taanab did come with a line all of seven people long at the Customs station. Cassian let his gaze sweep over the others, picking out five cargo pilots, an employee for a civilian transport company, and a kid not much older than Pash dressed in a coat with a crop dusting logo on the back. A discussion broke out over the transport company employee's papers, and Cassian leaned against the metal railing for the line area to wait. “Is it okay if I read?” Pash asked. Cassian nodded – it wasn't as if Pash could get in trouble reading – and watched as the kid pulled out his magazine and flipped it open. Now that he was paying attention to it, he could see the logo of the Imperial Flight Academy on Carida blazoned on the front. Of course, Cassian thought bitterly, It had to be Carida. Pash looked at it with the sort of rapt awe that Cassian had only seen on the faces of religious fanatics. Remembering the kid's requests to fly their shuttle, he asked, “You want to be a pilot?” “Yup.” Pash nodded as he turned a page. “As soon as I turn seventeen, I'm going to apply. My simulator scores are already better than most cadets' and my scores in mathematics are on track. Carida is my top choice – they have the greatest variety of programs – but Dad says Vensenor is a better program for pure flight training.” Pash needs experience. Cassian felt something settle in his stomach as he watched Pash read about Imperial starfighters. Sweet Force. Cracken wasn't planning to send Pash into the field to do what Cassian and countless others did. He was planting a mole into the Imperial military. “Next.” The Customs officer called out. “We're after her.” Cassian tried to keep his voice neutral as he played through the implications of Cracken's plan. “Find your travel papers.” What sort of man sent his own child into the Rancor's pit? You've been fighting since you were younger than Pash. Cassian told the voice in his mind to be quiet. That was different. When he joined the fight, he didn't have a family. There hadn't been anyone left to look out for him. The woman who had been talking with the Customs officer moved off into the spaceport. The officer waved at them to step forward. “Papers?” Cassian handed his over and waited for Pash to retrieve his from the rear pocket of his pants. He made a mental note to explain the importance of stashing papers in places from which they could not be easily stolen to Pash on the ride home. “Name?” The Customs officer looked bored. “Britt Dorset,” Cassian matched the officer's bored tone. “I'm Jon.” Pash put in. The officer glanced at their photos, then at them. “Your kid?” “Nephew.” Cassian offered. “Purpose on world?” The officer began stamping the documents. “Picking up a shipment of turnips.” Cassian replied. The Customs officer nodded once, then passed them their documents. “You're good to go. See Control on the second floor about scheduling an exit window.” “Can I meet you at the ship?” Pash asked as they moved into the spaceport. “I want to see if I can do the calculations for the nav computer and then compare them with yours. For practice.” Cassian tried to find the catch to that. The spaceport was pretty dead. It wasn't that far to the shuttle. The kid wanted to do math – and Cassian believed he was being truthful about that. “Sure.” He handed Pash a control chip. “Just lock it up once you're on board and don't let anyone until I get back.” He waited until Pash disappeared in the direction of the shuttle before taking the stairs to Traffic Control. Several rounds of paperwork – the boring predictable sort – and the traditional bribe, and he had an exit slot within the hour. It would have been perfect except that, upon returning to the ship, he was greeted with a locked hull and no Pash. You have got to be kidding me. Cassian stared at the hull of the ship and wondered how – how – he'd let himself be played by a fifteen year old kid. He was the galaxy's greatest idiot. No wonder Cracken no longer trusted him. He was dumb enough to believe a fifteen year old actually wanted to do math. “Are you looking for the redhead boy?” Cassian turned and saw an older man leaning against a pile of crates and smoking a pipe. “Yes.” “He went off with the Roat boys.” The old man pointed at Cassian with his pipe. He didn't know who the Roat boys were. He found he didn't care. All he knew was that he was going to make that kid's life a nightmare from now until they arrived back with the Alliance. “I don't believe it,” Cassian muttered. “Oh, believe it,” the man told him. “If it helps, he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. They jumped him right quick. Can't say I'm surprised after all that nonsense with his old man.” Cassian felt himself turn cold. There was bad, and then there was bad. Pash Cracken being made as Pash Cracken – someone taking Pash Cracken because of Airen Cracken – that was about as bad as it could get. Cassian bit back a growl. Apparently, Pash's little revelation in the market did not go unnoticed. “Which way did they go.” “Can't seem to remember.” Cassian held up his last cred chip. “Just remembered.” The man pocketed the chip. “Their ship is docked in Bay 17.” A quick check of the spaceport map revealed Bay 17 was one of the furthest landing bays from the center of the spaceport. Of course it was. The sort of people who abducted children weren't going to do their dirty work where anyone could see them. If they were smart, they were also the sort who wouldn't hang around long. He ran. He ran because he needed to return Pash in one piece to keep his place in the Rebellion. He ran because he had orders and he'd be damned if some thugs named Roat were going to keep him from following them. He ran because Pash was a stupid, naive, privileged little idiot, and some damn foolish part of Cassian wanted the boy to stay that way – to stay a child even if it was just for a few more months. He needn't have worried about the Roats leaving Taanab. When he reached Bay 17, he found stacks of crates, some as high as the ship, that were either being loaded or unloaded. For now, they were forgotten. For half a heartbeat, Cassian wondered if the bay was deserted or if he had been misled. Then he heard the voices. Walking around the crates, unarmed, to confront people who almost certainly were not in compliance with Taanab's spaceport blaster restriction laws did not seem like a good way to recover his charge. Cassian glanced at the piles of crates, mentally measuring the heights of various stacks against the height of the ship. If he could get above them, he might be able to jump them.... He climbed. It was, as climbs were concerned, one of the easier ones. The crates were large and stable, despite not being tied down or otherwise attached to anything. At a height of about one standard story, he was able to transition from the boxes to the wing of the ship, and from there, crawl along the wing towards the voices near the back of the ship. “But that's what I'm trying to tell you,” Pash was saying as Cassian peered over the back edge of the wing. “ I'm not Jon Dorset. I'm not even from Taanab.” He looked between two scrappy looking thugs, neither of whom had been anywhere near a sink for days and both of whom held battered blasters. “You're a terrible liar,” the thug on Pash's left said. “We saw you in the market. Don't look at me like that. Everyone knows you run with the Janson kid. How many redheaded friends do you think Janson has? Mort here was even behind you in line when you went through Customs.” The thug on the right, obviously the “Mort” in question, looked down at Pash at sneered. “Yeah. How dumb do you think we are?” “Next he's going to tell us his daddy really doesn't have any money,” the other thug joked, waving a blaster under Pash's nose. Pash's eyes somehow managed to get even larger. Cassian rolled onto his back and took stock of the situation. It was not good. If K-2 was here, he could give Cassian a percentage of 'not good,' but Cassian was going to take a stab in the dark and say it was 100% not good. Alliance intelligence had messed up. Their names were supposed to be objects of fantasy, but either sloppy work or failed research resulted in Intelligence giving at least Pash the name of a real Taanabian. Worse yet, it was the name of a Taanabian that he resembled and that petty criminals cared about. Cassian silently hoped Jon Dorset was worth more alive than dead – and that the men would give him an opening to reclaim his teenage charge. Mort looked at Pash, who was doing a good job of saying nothing, and cycled through several more sneers. “Not so clever now, are ya?” Another four versions of sneer crossed his mouth. He caught his partner's eye and jerked his thumb around the back of his ship. “Load him in the speeder. I'll contact his father.” Cassian ran through a quick mental catalog of what he had available to him for use as a weapon. It turned up nothing useful – no knives, no sharp implements...he didn't even have his coat any longer. Beneath him, the remaining thug was waving the blaster in the direction of the speeder and ordering Pash inside. If that happened, his chances of recovering a breathing Pash Cracken went down dramatically. Don't get in the speeder. Don't get in the speeder. Pash hesitated. “Kid, don't make me tell you again.” The thug's slid the safety off the blaster. “Mort might want money from your dad, but I'm fine with my revenge the old fashioned way.” He was done waiting. The drop wasn't as bad as it could have been. Landing on the thug helped. And then there was nothing – no emotions, no pain – just simple, basic flashes from his senses. The clatter as the blaster fell to the floor. The hard muscles in the back of the other man. The flash of light against metal as his opponent drew a knife. The crack of ligaments as he manipulated the wrist of the knife hand. The way the knife bit into the skin of his arm as he tried to wrest it away. The heavy breathing as his opponent moved to throw him. The feel of a clean snap as he broke the neck of the other man. And then it was over, and Cassian found himself staggering backwards from his opponent. He was aware that his breath was ragged, and that his heart was racing, and that less than a minute had passed since he leapt from the top of the ship's wing. Regaining his footing, he straightened and looked at Pash. The kid's eyes were huge. They moved from Cassian, to the body on the floor, and back to Cassian. His right hand, Cassian noted, clutched the blaster the thug had dropped. “Is he...?” “Yes.” He retrieved the knife from where it had fallen and set to work cutting a sleeve off the thug's shirt. He didn't even want to think about how the gash on his arm was going to feel once the adrenaline began to wear off. Thrusting the fabric at Pash, he pulled back his own sleeve. “I need you to cover the wound, and bind it with this.” For a long moment, it looked like Pash was going to do nothing more than stare at the corpse. Then he blinked once, grabbed the stripped away sleeve, and pressed it against Cassian's forearm. “How much pressure?” He began to wrap the makeshift bandage. “I'll let you know if its too tight.” It was starting to hurt already. Damn. He couldn't get a good look at it, but he knew it was bad if it hurt already. Cassian waited in silence until the bandage was tied off. As long as the knife hadn't gotten an artery, that should hold until they got back to the spaceport. If the knife had caught an artery, well, then it wouldn't matter. “Here.” Pash shrugged out of Cassian's coat and held it out to him. “This is bulky enough that it should hide the, uh, bandage so we won't attract attention on the way back to the ship.” It was a little less bulky on him than on Pash, but at least the kid was thinking. Careful of the arm, Cassian pulled the coat on, then motioned to Pash with his good hand. “Okay. Good work. We're leaving.” He took three steps, watched the world swim, paused, then shut his eyes. “Kid?” “Yes?” “When you said you knew how to fly a shuttle,” while asking me to let you fly every five minutes on the way here, “How much experience do you have?” “I've been doing solo flights in a Z95 since I was twelve.” Pash told him. “Are you going to let me fly?” “No.” Cassian said gruffly. “But if I pass out on the way out of here, then you are allowed to fly.” ~*~ “Are you sure you don't want to use Bacta patches for this?” The medic set down a metal tray on to the table. Cassian cast a look at the suture needles and thread on the tray, then made a point of looking anywhere but at the tray. “Positive.” Bacta patches might be painless, but they were also not as plentiful on bases as the more archaic methods of healing. “It's just a scratch.” “It'll probably be a good twelve stitches.” The medic corrected him coolly. “You're lucky your assailant didn't nick anything important.” When he merely held out his arm in response, she shook her head once, then got to work cleaning the wound. He tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on developing a decent explanation for why a routine pick up had gone wrong. Sometime around the fourth pass of the needle through his skin, he had to admit the worst: there was no good way to spin your kid almost died on my watch to a commanding officer. There was also a good chance this was the end. Cassian shut his eyes and kept his teeth clenched together. He still wasn't sure what he'd done to get this unofficial demotion, but the day's events had surely cemented whatever poor opinions Cracken and the others must have had of him. This job was all he had. This fight was all he had. Everything had been lost or taken or given in the name of this cause. It would all be for nothing. “How bad was it?” Airen Cracken's gruff voice interrupted the silence. Cassian opened his eyes to see the general just inside the room, his shoulder leaning against the wall. “Twelve stitches.” The medic replied as she finished a knot on the sutures. “But the wound wasn't dangerously deep. He'll live.” Cassian gave her a wane smile and reached for his sleeve. “Don't even think about it, Captain.” The medic stuck him with the sort of stern look he always imagined school headmistresses would perfect for unruly students. “That shirt is filthy. Unless you'd like to be back in here with an infection?” He dropped his hand back to his lap. Cracken gave the medic a tired smile as he pushed himself upright. “Do you mind if we use the room for a few minutes?” “As long as you make sure he doesn't try to roll down that sleeve,” the medic waved a hand in Cassian's direction, “Be my guest.” As Cracken took up the spot that the medic vacated, Cassian found himself subconsciously reaching for his sleeve, only to stop under Cracken's gaze. He forced his hand away again and his chin to stay up. He opened his mouth to report, only to have Cracken hold up a hand. “Pash filled me in.” Cassian took a moment to run that through his mind before choosing the neutral response of, “I see.” “Not exactly how I expected things to go.” Cracken continued. It was the sort of moment where someone could use the phrases “I can explain” or “I'm sorry.” Either of those phrases implied guilt, however, so Cassian said nothing. Cracken sighed heavily and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the small table. “I just thank the Force you were the one with him.” Cassian blinked. That was not exactly the direction he expected the conversation to go. “Sir?” Cracken favored him with a tired look. “I suspect you're wondering why I pulled you from your typical roster of assignments to accompany a fifteen year old.” He rubbed at his temples, then leaned back in his chair once more. “Pash is a prodigy at military spaceflight. He was better than me by the time he was thirteen. He can beat any of the old simulator scenarios we have, and he's likely better than at least half of the military grade pilots we've got in the Rebellion. What he's not good at is espionage.” “He told me about the flight academy,” Cassian offered. Cracken blinked. “He told you?” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Figures. Yes, I plan on sending him to one of the flight academies if I think he can handle it. We're setting up some small training ops for him – things like spending a month at a boarding school here or several weeks in a group home there. They're ways for him to practice being someone else without the stakes being quite so high – and tests to make sure he won't make the sort of mistake that could end his life.” The several hours he'd had to mull over the idea of Cracken using his own son as a spy hadn't given Cassian any additional guidance on how to feel about that. Part of him wanted to shake the man and tell him how lucky he was to have a normal family, and that he needed to do everything he could to never, ever risk that. Another part of him had to admit that planting a mole Cracken knew he could trust was smart. Neither of those thoughts were thoughts he could voice, so he chose to stick to the practical aspects. “He's not going to be like your regular operatives. He sees life as black and white.” “He's young.” Cracken nodded. “Fortunately, he just has to attend classes and fly fighters and keep an ear to the ground. And when the time comes...well, he's starting to have his eyes opened to the realities of war.” Yes, watching a man get his neck snapped had that effect on a person. Cassian wasn't about to share that thought either, and returned to the safely neutral response of, “I see.” Cracken studied him a moment, then announced, “I'm looking for people to act as handlers.” “Handlers,” he repeated. “People to train Pash, get him ready. Make sure he knows how to take care of himself. Make sure he learns how to blend in and cover his tracks. Make sure he understands what he's getting into before it's too late. Make sure he stays alive.” Cracken continued. “I was wondering if you had anyone you'd recommend.” Cracken meant him. Cassian took a moment to consider the implications. What he'd seen as a demotion was, in fact, an audition - one he'd apparently passed with flying colors. There was probably some sort of promotion in it. It was most definitely meant to be some sort of honor. At the end of the day, though, he couldn't see himself spending the next two years grooming a kid for a long term undercover op. There were better ways he could be useful. “I'd recommend Lena Cavert. She's smart, trustworthy, and has a fair bit of undercover experience thanks to her days at CorSec.” If Cracken was surprised, he didn't show it. He merely picked up a pencil and jotted the name down on a piece of flimsy, as if he had just heard it and hadn't been speaking with the woman the day before. “That's a good recommendation. Anyone else you can think of?” “If I was going to send my son into an enemy stronghold, I'd want Cavert training him,” Cassian replied. Cracken was silent a long moment. Finally, he climbed to his feet. “Draven has a neutralization assignment on his desk.” The unspoken care to reconsider hung in the air. No one liked neutralization work. It was a necessary evil – and the sort he'd do dozens of times over during the two years he could be spending training Pash Cracken to infiltrate the Imperial military. He tried to imagine switching from ops to training, what it would be like to work behind the scenes and play an occasional character role if the situation required it. It was a relatively safe assignment – and a relatively unmessy one. And it was all to get one kid ready to do one thing two years from now. There was too much to do now. Cassian cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir. I'll report to him once we're back on world.” Notes: - There’s a lot of conflicting information on Pash’s age. Based on his story arc pre-RotJ, I calculated he'd have been born 15 or 16 ABY. *shrug* - Janson was one of the younger pilots at Yavin (despite not getting to fly because he was ill). I have him about Pash's age here. - Cassian suspects Car'das's organization would sell them out. Ironically, he deals with Karrde, who wouldn't have done so, as selling people out is terrible for business. Also “Sabacc Card” seemed to me like the type of absolutely horrible pun Karrde would love. - The “count the red shirts” game is taken from Psych, where the main character's father would have him count hats. I used red shirts because...red shirts. - Liana Hallik was one of Jyn Erso's pseudonyms. In about a year, “Liana” will be arrested for, inter alia, having weapons she shouldn't. - Johnny Dorset is the name of the kidnapped child in 'The Ransom of Red Chief.' - When I originally wrote that Pash had a brochure for the Imperial Academy on Carida, I did not know of Cassian's family connection to it. It actually came from some old Pash-centric stuff I'd written that he'd wanted to go there, but ended up elsewhere and just re-used it. The Universe apparently decided this was Meant To Be.

#cassian andor #pash cracken #RiFic

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paranoidsbible · 8 years ago

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The Testament of the Android

The Testament of the Android Non-profit and free for redistribution Written on November 11 | 2014 Published on October 27th | 2015 For entertainment and research purposes only

================================== DISCLAIMER: The Paranoid's Bible and its writers hold no responsibility for the acts of others. The Paranoid’s Bible is for research and entertainment purposes only. Please visit our blog for more PDFs and information: https://www.paranoidsbible.tumblr.com/ ================================== Contents Preface 4 What is Rooting? 5 Benefits and drawbacks of root 6 Common custom versions of Android 7 Basic apps Google doesn’t want you to know about 9 XPosed Installer 11 XPrivacy 12 Rooting 101 13 Installing your custom ROM 14 Afterword 15 ================================== Preface Hello guys. I was asked by the Paranoid’s Bible team to make a short segment about Android rooting and security to complement the main book as the team is too paranoid to move on from their Nokia 3310. Well, here it is. In this guide, I will talk about some easy methods to root your phone, why you need to do it this very moment without excuse, mention some ROM’s for you to load onto your phone and finally, some apps to protect the little privacy you have left in your life. At least for a week until the NSA decides to reveal that all phones since 2001 has had several hardware-level backdoors installed. ================================== What is Rooting? Rooting is the process of gaining “root”-level access on your Android device. For some reason, Google thought it was a brilliant idea to lock away the Android version of an Administrator account for “your own safety and ease of use”. Basically, your phone is gimped on purchase. While most people won’t even notice it, the admin account is out of your grasp. Imagine if that was true for your PC. Something’s wrong, and it’s easy to fix, but you can’t run CMD.exe as admin to fix the issue with three lines of commands. You want to install this piece of software, but you need admin rights to do it so you can’t use it. That’s the default setting on Android. As you can see, it’s basically a middle finger to consumers and developers alike, and many phone producers (like HTC and Samsung) are aware of the potential drawbacks of this and therefore have made it much easier for the average user to unlock this power of system administration. Also, with root, you can get rid of /ALL/ apps installed on your phone, so if you have a Samsung (or any American carrier phone with bloat installed), you will feel blessed by the seven gods of fate over the ability to remove said cancerous bloat that does nothing but take up space. ================================== Benefits and drawbacks of root As I touched on briefly before, Root has some amazing benefits. I’ll make a short list of it now, followed by a list of cons to make it easy to decide if rooting is for you. Pros: • System-level control • Uninstall carrier apps • Custom OS install • Hardware-level tweaks (CPU speed, battery life, better screen controls, multi-touch boost) • Install ALL apps on your device • Custom functions and button mappings • AdBlock • System images for 100% reliable backup • Super secret privacy stuff on your device • xPosed network Cons: • Risk of soft-bricking your device • You may void your warranty • All updates of your Android version must be done by hand • Minor compatibility issues • You won’t ever be able to live with stock android again ================================== Common custom versions of Android Even if you aren’t into rooting, you should already know about CyanogenMod. It’s probably the most expansive, compatible and well-marketed version of Android out there and it has been customized to run on a frankly insane amount of devices. But for now, let’s do a run-down on the most popular ROM’s and some a little more obscure and device-specific for your pleasure. ==Cyanogenmod - https://www.cyanogenmod.org/ == As mentioned just before, Cyanogenmod is probably the way to go for a beginner root user. It’s so simple that my mom actually uses it and likes it. That should tell you pretty much everything you need to know. If a 51-year-old woman finds joy in using this ROM, even the most tech-ignorant should be able to not mess it up. I would recommend this for every beginner because it’s as close to stock android as you can come, but with a hefty amount of added features like security reinforcement and theme support. The best thing about Cyanogenmod is that it comes with its own easy installer. Just hit up their site and follow their “how to install” guide and you are up and running in less than 15 minutes. ==Carbon - https://carbonrom.org/== Like CyanogenMod, this ROM is remarkably close to stock, but it has some nice goodies out of the bag as well. First off, it has a sleek, beautiful design, powerful optimization and is designed with a great user Experience in mind. The rom also has a nice toolbox for Carbon-exclusive features for you to tinker with. ==SlimRom - https://www.slimroms.net/ == SlimRom is another one of the UX-based roms that look, feel and work wonderfully. This rom is pretty unique and has a nice slew of features that makes the phone adapt to you, from theme inversions, left-handed mode, privacy guards and a lot more listed on their website. Do check this out of you feel like having some bling to your functionality. A fair warning: The ROM isn’t s light-weight as the previous mentions, so keep in mind that it probably won’t run well on a mid-low tier phone. ==AOKP - https://aokp.co/ == “Infused with Magical Unicorn Power” indeed. They don’t lie with that tag line. This is probably the most impressive ROM out there and needs no introduction to the people in the scene. You simply won’t find any ROM with more functions out of the box. An honestly baffling amount of hardware-level tweaks, software customizations and said Unicorn magic will make you love this ROM. Note that this will work on mid-high level phones and above. The drawback to this one is its honestly overwhelming feature set. So, if you want this to be your daily driver, please take your time to figure out how it works. ==Paranoid Android - https://paranoidandroid.co/ == Paranoid Android… Just the name makes it fit right into here. A bunch of security, a touch of amazing material design and always up-to-date, this is probably the rom for you if you like a great experience without all the hassle of tinkering with it yourself. ==Android Revolution HD - https://android-revolution-hd.blogspot.com/ == This ROM is for select HTC and Samsung devices only. Wait, why do you list it here then, Pleb, I hear the strawman in my head talk. Well, if you have ever used HTC’s version of Android they named “Sense”, you would know. The Sense overlay and features are simply some of the best. I am not even kidding here. I avoided to root my old HTC legend just because I couldn’t get a keyboard that was half as good as the one the phone came with. And all of the nice features. And the amazing UI…. Anyone that has ever used Sense wouldn’t be able to go back. And now, some wizard made a custom rom based on Android 4.4.2 and Sense 6 for you to install on your phone. So people with and HTC One M7 can still benefit from the new version of Sense that HTC doesn’t officially support for the device. Simply Magical. Please note: There are a lot of custom ROM’s out there I didn’t mention here. Just do a quick Google search if you feel like the short list I provided wasn’t enough for you. ================================== Basic apps Google doesn’t want you to know about Okay. This is where the magic happens. Did you know that Google doesn’t allow a lot of really, really useful stuff onto its main marketplace, the Google Play Store? No? Well, sit down and listen, because you are going to have your mind blown. Here’s a list of my most commonly used grey market apps for you to install: AdAway As the name suggests, this App is an ad blocker. But not just for your browser, but your entire fucking phone. Ever get tired of ads in your free games? Let’s take Cut the Rope as an example. One minute of game, three minutes of adverts. Well, that’s all in the past now, as AdAway blocks most ad networks via the hosts file on your device (See, I told you that rooting is useful). AdBlock Edge Well, let’s be honest. AdAway doesn’t catch everything, and neither does AdBlock. But together, the two cover for each other, and since I have had both of these puppies installed on my phone, I haven’t seen a single ad anywhere. Not in the browser, not in my notification feed, not anywhere. Just do yourself a favor and do this. As an added benefit, you’ll save bandwidth on your phone. Any Play Store replacement Yeah. For one reason or another, Google isn’t keen on letting you know that there are other ways for you to install apps on your device if you don’t like the hive-mind all that much. And the best thing? It’s pretty easy too! Here’s a short list of app stores you should take a gander at as an alternative: F-Droid: A basic, but developer-driven play store alternative that has some experimental apps that for one reason or another didn’t get onto Google Play. Do check it out. Amazon App Store: Yep, Amazon has its own app store, complete with both paid and free apps and games. SlideMe: A nice, community driven app store based on exploration AppsLib: A play store alternative mostly based for Tablet apps that couldn’t pass Google certification. Hidden gems galore. BlackMart: YO HO HIBBITY HE BEING A PIRATE IS ALL THERE TO BE DO WHAT YOU WANT CUZ A PIRATE IS FREE YOU ARE A PIRATE!! This one offers you paid apps for free. Yep. No strings attached. Personally, I would prefer you guys to pay for your apps as the $1 they cost isn’t really a major setback. But if you want to run a 100% info-free device, you have no other option. MarketEnabler: Not as much a replacement as it is a way to get out of region-locked downloads. BootManager This app is another one that requires Root to run. What does it do? It completely kills the auto-start triggers some apps have. You know how Skype is impossible to actually close because it always re-opens on pretty much every occasion it can? Well, nevermore to that. AppOps starter AppOps is a developer tool in Android that Google leaked by accident and has covered up since the leak. What does it do? It pretty much disables individual permissions every app you have installed has, iOS style. Because they “patched it out”, you need this to actually open the menu. But now, Angry Birds will never have to know where you sit on the toilet playing it, I guess. GravityBox Remember the hardware-level tweaks and OS tweaks I talked about on the custom ROM section? With this app, you can get that on stock, or hell, any ROM there is. No-frills CPU control Well, it’s exactly as it says on the tin. Control your CPU speed without any hassle. Titanium Backup Best backup tool there is. Just do yourself a favor and get this. UnbelovedHosts Removes ads, access to malware domains and other host-file tweaks you will love. Of course, there are many more, but I want to keep this short and sweet for the newbs. Remember, search engines are your friends if you want to have more stuff. ================================== XPosed Installer Oh boy. This one is pretty grand. It’s the single-most amazing benefit of root. The story behind this is that a guy wizard on the XDA forums found a way to make ROM-level changes on your phone without having to boot into recovery and manually patch your ROM. Yeah. Because of this, xPosed installer is the single-most useful tool for device customization and hardware-level tweaks. It’s basically a toolset for toolsets. Basically, this is a framework to install tweaks on your phone. Just as easy to use as any app store, but with 100% useful things. XPosed installer is also needed to install XPrivacy (duh), so you better just grab this from the get-go. All you do to install a module is pick it, download it and reboot your phone. Bam. If tweaking an OS could get any easier than this we would all be exalted into godhood. ================================== XPrivacy Well. In the chapters passed, we have touched briefly upon security. Now comes the mother of all privacy apps on the system. XPrivacy is a toolbox, not unlike the ones you can find on XPosed, but this one focuses on, well, you guessed it: Privacy! Okay, right away, I want you to just go buy the pro version. The guy who made this has sunk half his personal time into making this, and the paid version basically runs itself, so just do it. It’s worth the money you cheap bastard. Well, what can you do with this awesome piece of software? Restrict App permissions, restrict hidden permissions, show how much data each application uses, sends and downloads behind your back, makes a debug log for you, forces secure connections when it can, flushes your cache for identifying data, FRAKKING FAKES YOUR DEVIDE ID, NUMBER, SERIAL, HARDWARE, SCREEN RESOLUTION, GPS COORDINATES, MAC ADDRESS, IMEI NUMBER, ANDROID ID, GSF ID, ADVERTISING ID, COUNTRY, OPERATOR, GSM CELL ID, SSID AND USER AGENT. AND IT RANDOMIZES IT ON REBOOT TOO! THIS PIECE OF SOFTWARE BASICALLY SINGLE-HANDEDLY CLOAKS YOU AND YOUR PRIVACY IN A NUKEABLE WAY Another added benefit of having the paid version is the community filters. We are all too lazy to manually poke around with permissions on the 100+ apps that are on our phones, so with a simple click of a button, you can cut the balls off of all of your apps at once. No hassle, no sweat, no nothing. Just get this. You have no excuse not to. The software basically runs itself after you set it up (pretty simple to do, too). ================================== Rooting 101 Okay, now, after you have digested all of the nice options that are open to you, you want to root your phone. “But Pleb!! How do I do that??” You ask? Well, it’s actually pretty simple nowadays. Back when I rooted my first device (A HTC Legend, notorious for its Fascist-tier boot loading protection), I had to work around with custom SD cards, command line hacks and shady software. But nowadays, you can pretty much hook your phone to your computer, press a couple of buttons and bam. Done. Here are some ways to easily root your phone: CyanogenMod Installer: https://www.cyanogenmod.org This one is probably the simplest. Go to CyanogenMods homepage, download the tool and follow instructions. Within ten minutes, you should have a nicely rooted phone. Since this is literally the easiest thing in the world to do, I won’t describe how it’s done. It’s literally a 1-2-3-4-done thing. Kingo Root: https://www.kingoapp.com/ This is the second easiest option you have. It’s another plug-and-play with simple directions that are impossible to mess up. Just follow the steps and you are done. This doesn’t have a 100% success rate, but if it fails, nothing happens. So you won’t mess up your phone this way. If you have a HTC or a Samsung phone, this is the tool to use as it also bypasses the protection these phones might have installed. FramaRoot: https://forum.xda-developers.com/apps/framaroot/root-framaroot-one-click-apk-to-root-t2130276 Okay. I lied. This is probably the easiest way to root since it doesn’t even need a computer to do so. Just download the .APK, run it and bam. Rooted. This app runs a couple of exploits to force Super User and Root access on your device, and because of that, it can pretty much tell you if you are wasting your time right away. Just look up the thread on the XDA forum I linked to read about how to use this app. Finally, if you are unsure about how this works in practice, you can just search “Android Root tutorial” on YouTube and see it in action. It’s literally never been easier to root your phone than it is nowadays. As an extra bonus, you can look up showcases of Android roms on there too, in case you want to see them in action before committing. Speaking about…. ================================== Installing your custom ROM This is a little fiddlier than just rooting your current ROM, but it’s still a fairly easy thing to do. Here’s a short tutorial on how to do it in end-2014. This might be updated once a better way is developed, but you can just Google it if you feel like not bothering me. WHAT YOU NEED: • A rooted phone • A computer • A Mini-USB cable • Internet connection After you have downloaded your ROM of choice, you need to also download the Google APK files in case you want to have Google maps, play store and all the other things. Different tiers of the APK files can be found here: https://www.sharedapk.com/google-play-services-3-0-25/ Turn your phone off and boot it into recovery mode. This differs from device to device, so a quick search for “recovery mode [device name]” should do. Now, open this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHULkfePcTg and follow the instructions to install TWRP Recovery and follow the steps to install the custom ROM. The good thing about TWRP is that it has a touch screen interface that makes recovery much easier than with stock. Bam! Now you are done. Easy, wasn’t it? ================================== Afterword So, this 101 EZ-guide is now over. Personally, I find it important to share this, even if it’s just adding to the redundancy of the resources online. Well, I hope that you have found this a little helpful, and if you want me to edit something in here, add more stuff or maybe fix a mistake, please send message to paranoidsbible.tumblr.com Anyhow, have a good one and enjoy your freshly-rooted phone!

#android #google #smartphone #cellphone #root #rooting #jailbreak #jail break

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tehlaen · 7 years ago

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Day 25: “Home”

Day 25 of the 30 Day Star Wars OC Challenge from @smuggler-captain that I’m doing with @lessdenied! Previous posts are tagged with #30dayswchallenge.

In the very recent past...

“Home’s wherever they’re least likely to shoot you outta the sky soon as they see ya.”

The insistent warning-beeps from the ship’s console summoned Vinkess’ words from Teh’laen’s memory. She grinned to herself as Essix calmly input and transmitted her clearance codes as the Yimeh’Dizoh came in for its final approach. Setting the Krayt’s Den’s air-defense cannons to automatically target any unauthorized craft that got too close had led to a number of unpleasant misunderstandings, she had to admit. On the other hand, given how many times her overzealous security arrangements had prevented the previous owners of the items she stole—not to mention disgruntled customers—from turning her little slice of Tatooine real estate into a glassy crater, she counted it as worth the trouble.

The smuggler, thief and occasional privateer smoothly centered the XS Freighter over the hangar’s opening with practiced ease, and the ship descended gently on its repulsors. She and Essix ran through the power-down sequence barely seconds after the landing gear touched the deck plating. Twi’lek and droid were both anxious to get out of the cockpit, having long since run low on energy. Hopping from one planet to another did her body’s rhythms no favors; she wasn’t sure what time it was locally—and “dark” didn’t really count as a time. The horizon was just barely starting to lighten as they landed, and without looking at her chrono, she suspected it was a couple of hours ‘til dawn.

Essix whistled a question at her and a fierce yawn kept her from answering for several seconds. “Yeah, go ahead and power down to recharge. I wanna get this stuff unloaded first, then I’ll do the same.” Her droid chirped an acknowledgement and whirred out of the cockpit and down the open loading ramp.

Teh’laen followed at a significantly more sedate pace. The three loader droids waited patiently at the foot of the ramp. She wracked her sleep-deprived brain, trying to remember what she’d been thinking just moments earlier. Oh, right. “Boys? Would you be so kind as to unload Aurek Hold?” The three massive, quadripedal droids—half again as tall as she was and three times as broad—beeped in response and trundled up the ramp.

It was a testament to just how many hours had passed since her last sleep that one of the loaders had to gently nudge her awake. Not even the clanking of their footfalls had brought her back to wakefulness. One of them made a questioning sound and she nodded. “Yeah. Right. Sorry. Uh, put the munitions…” She looked around the hangar and the various and sundry goods stacked in bays around the perimeter. “Put those in Bay Eighteen.”

She walked over to the droid hefting a long crate. The lid had been blasted partially open during the fight; it was only Teh’s incredible luck that the transport’s emergency bulkheads slammed shut before it, too, could be sucked out into space. Through the charred hole in the crate’s lid, she saw the golden glimmer of auradium bars, stamped with serial numbers and the seal of the Imperial Treasury. “These go in the vault.”

The droids turned and went about carrying out her instructions. With that taken care of, she strode to the blast door that Essix had left open and stepped out into the central plaza of the Den. She should have turned left and taken the lift up to the terrace and her quarters; her body badly needed sleep. Instead she turned right and went up the stairs, wandering through the Den for reasons she couldn’t explain.

Teh’laen had lived in a lot of different places, after she and Rai’laen had fled Ryloth. Some she’d liked and some she very much had not. Aside from the Yimeh’Dizoh, though, she’d never really had a place that felt like it was where she belonged. The old warehouse the Stormriders had used as a base of operations was the closest she’d come, but even that… Nah.

She found herself wandering to the far end of the Krayt’s Den. The wristlink on her left gauntlet had synced up with the Den’s internal sensors as soon as she’d landed. Aside from herself and the staff, there were only two other humanoid life signs in the place. Naga’se and Lystra had apparently made up from their latest difference of opinion and were occupying one of the guest rooms. Maybe I should just stop calling that one a guest room and call it their room. The couple spent the night at the Den practically every night they were in Teh’s little portion of the Outer Rim and always in the same room. They’d accidentally left behind so many of their belongings that the staff had taken to collecting Naga’se’s and Lystra’s things when they left the Den, and as soon as they heard the two were inbound, putting the room back the way it had been left.

As she retraced her steps, she passed one of the loaders making its way to the room she called her vault. Teh’laen patted the big droid on one of its arms and, with a smile, muttered, “Thanks, big guy.” The defense systems guarding the entrance to the vault recognized both owner and helper and stood down, and the droid stepped inside. She grinned to herself; on any planet less arid than Tatooine, she’d call the contents of that room her “rainy day” fund. As it was, she thought of it as her “When I Want to Retire and Buy Myself a Small Moon” fund.

Silence greeted her when she stepped off the lift on the terrace that, to her mind, formed the heart of the Krayt’s Den. The weapons-check kiosk had been locked up tightly. From the look of it, a few blasters had been left behind by patrons who left the bar in such an altered state that they either couldn’t remember or couldn’t be trusted with weaponry. The Krayt’s Den attracted a certain clientele that could charitably be described as shady; Teh’laen had discovered long ago that alcohol, shady characters and blasters were a volatile, often explosive mixture. “No guns allowed in my bar” was a hard and fast rule of hers, and for the most part, her customers respected it; those that didn’t were removed.

The main bar and dance floor were dark, quiet and empty of all save the tiny vac-droids that waged a never-ending war on the sand that blew onto the terrace. And except for Ket, Teh’laen mentally added as a sound like a rockslide crushing a porcelain shop ripped through the still night. How can someone so small snore so loud?

The Twi’lek dancer with the pale orange skin was curled up in a tight ball on Teh’laen’s favorite sofa, in the owner’s private booth. A couple of the Den’s other employees had mentioned that Ket sometimes stayed past closing to take advantage of the HoloNet connection and get some studying done; the holographic, annotated mockup of some sort of molecular structure slowly rotating in the air above the table confirmed the rumors.

The Lethan padded over and bent over, flicking off the holoprojector. The young woman asleep on the couch shivered lightly in between snores; the desert nights could get positively frigid. Teh’laen slipped out of her jacket and laid it over Ket like a blanket, murmuring a soft “good night” in Ryl before turning to the door to her own chambers.

The door slid shut behind her and she made her way by instinct to her bed. Hanging and folding could wait for when she was feeling inclined; as it was, she left a trail of discarded clothing from the door to the bedside. The soft glow of the chrono on her bedside table both confirmed her suspicions—she was laying down just as the suns were coming up—and gave her enough light to make out the form of someone in her bed.

Teh’laen smiled warmly at the sight of Cassbria sprawled across Teh’s side of the bed. The Echani with the azure hair lay with Teh’laen’s pillows hugged to her chest. Her head was propped on a small, handmade stuffed bantha the two of them found last time they were in Anchorhead. The husband of one of the moisture farmers Teh bought the Den’s water supply from made the kitschy little things to sell for extra creds, and Cass had been immediately enamored of it. Unbeknownst to her love, Teh had gone back and bought a dozen more of the endearingly-hideous things. It had taken Cass nearly two full weeks to figure out how “her” bantha kept moving from room to room—and on a couple of notable occasions, stowed away aboard her ship.

She came around to her side of the bed and paused with one knee resting on the edge of the mattress. Cass had been spending more and more nights at Teh’s place, even staying over when Teh’laen was offplanet. Her partner hadn’t known the Twi’lek was coming home tonight; for that matter, neither had Teh. Her heart swelled as she gazed at her lover’s expression of gentle restfulness, and it began to race when Cass’ opalescent eyes fluttered open and she gave the Lethan a sleepy smile.

“Teh? ‘S that you?”

Teh’laen climbed into bed and swapped places with the pillows. Cass’ arms tightened around her, and Teh gave her partner an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey, gorgeous,” she whispered softly. “I’m home.”

#30dayswchallenge #teh'laen #cassbria #krayt's den #tatooine #twi'lek #star wars the old republic #my writing #swtor rp

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spectraspecs-writes · 4 years ago

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Leviathan - Chapter 104

Link to the masterpost. Chapter 103. Chapter 105.

@averruncusho @ceruleanrainblues @chubbsmomma @strangepostmiracle thank you for reading, you get a tag. @skelelexiunderlord thank you for support, you get a tag.

——–

Mission got us out. I’m really proud of her. She didn’t have to do any of this. I would have figured out another plan if she hadn’t. But she did really good. I smile at her. “I’d hug you if I wasn’t so sore.”

“Sore? What happened?” she asks.

“Torture. Bad,” I say, “I should be fine if nobody touches me.”

“The way you fight, I doubt anyone will,” Jolee says with a scoff.

“If I remember the layout of this ship right,” Carth says, “our equipment should be in a storage chamber just through the north doors.”

“Yep,” Mission says, “I was in there for a half hour, they brought everybody’s stuff in there.” A half hour? Damn, she was really difficult, good for her.

“After we grab our stuff we need to get to the main bridge controls,” he says, “The bridge is the only place we can open the docking gates of the hangar where they've got the Ebon Hawk. We have to open those gates before we can fly out of here!”

“We better get moving,” Bastila says, “I can feel the darkness of Malak's presence approaching, and I don't want to be here when he arrives. None of us is a match for the Sith Lord.”

“I agree,” I say, “Ordinarily, I’d just storm up to the bridge guns blazing, but I don’t think that’s the best approach right now.”

“Nor do I,” she says, “Surprise and secrecy will serve us best. A small group might have a better chance of sneaking onto the bridge undetected while the others make their way down to the Ebon Hawk.”

“Count me in, then,” Carth says, “I've got a score to settle with the Admiral before we get off this ship, and I have a feeling I'm gonna find him on the Leviathan's bridge!”

“Then I’m with you, too,” I say. I’m not leaving him. He needs incentive to come back to me.

Bastila nods. “The three of us will get our equipment and make our way to the bridge. The rest of you head down to the docking hangar where they've got the Ebon Hawk. You'll have to find a way to deal with guards.”

Canderous grins, an evil little grin, I love it. “Don't you worry about that,” he says, “I know how to deal with the guards. They won't know what hit them!”

“Then grab your stuff and go,” I say, “We’ll meet you as soon as we get the docking bay doors open.”

“Just make sure the Hawk is ready to fly when we get there,” Bastila says, “And may the Force be with you.”

Only the stuff we were wearing is in the lockers. I guess they haven’t had the chance to fully clear out the Hawk. My droid tool kit is still intact, too; the way this day’s been going, I half-expected it to be picked clean. My Jedi robe feels soft on my skin, really nice over my sore self. I do a quick check, turning my arms, getting ready for a fight. I can still move just fine, I’m just sort of achy. Damn it, Saul, you sadist.

“Hey,” Carth says softly behind me. So I turn to him. “About… earlier…”

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have said anything even though Saul already knew everything, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t just stay silent, I could not live to see him hurt you like that, okay? So just…”

“Rena, I understand,” he says, “Honestly, I- I don’t think I could have done it, either, if our situations were reversed.”

“You just…” I say, “… you looked so disappointed in me before.”

“Maybe I was… a little,” he says, “But the position he put you in, and the fact that he knew the answers anyway and was just being cruel for the sake of it, I know you did what you had to. And… if you weren’t so sore, like you said, I…”

I know. I hug him before he can finish. “Just don’t elbow me in the stomach, I’ll be fine.” He chuckles. After a few moments I let go. “We need to get going. Before Malak gets here.” He nods and grabs his blasters from the locker. I grab my lightsabers, clip them to my belt. Sling my pack over my shoulder. I’m ready.

Carth leads the way. He knows where he’s going. Looks cautiously both ways down the hallway. “Elevator’s this way,” he says. We follow. Two troopers where the hall turns, but I throw one of my lightsabers and they’re dead. Simple. He leads us forth. Next intersection, holds his hand up. We wait. Trooper passes. We keep going to the elevator.

My comm unit buzzes in my back pocket. “This is Canderous. We're at the Ebon Hawk. Like we figured, it's under heavy guard. But don't worry... we'll figure out a plan to take care of them.”

“Good luck,” I say before deactivating the comm.

Then, behind us - “ATTENTION ALL HANDS. INTRUDER ALERT! THE JEDI ARE FREE!” Goddamnit! The one trooper we don’t kill is the one to report us. Talk about ungrateful. So much for secrecy. With a few quick sweeps of her lightsaber, Bastila kills him, but the damage has been done.

“How much harder does this make it to access the bridge?” I ask Carth.

“The door will be locked tight,” he says, “We’ll have to figure out something else, some other way to get there.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” No pun intended, of course.

The elevator takes us to the command deck. We can work our way to the bridge from here. “Okay, Carth, which way do we go? Left or right?” I ask him.

“Left will get us to the bridge fastest but since it’s locked that won’t do us much good.”

“How would the bridge crew get there during a lockdown?” Bastila asks, “Perhaps there are passcards, we could take one.”

“It used to be an ID number, you just memorize it. But Saul probably changed something, or maybe the Sith have a different system.”

System. I have an idea. “My bypass code,” I say, “If you can get me to a computer terminal, I can probably use my bypass code to open the door.”

“You have a bypass code for Sith computers?” Bastila asks, “Where did you get that?”

“From a Sith scout, long story, no time to tell,” I say, “Where’s the nearest console?”

“Turn right, it’s in the droid bay,” he says, “Right then left.”

“IT’S THE JEDI!” Goddamn it! Stupid alarm - would someone turn that off? Now that the troopers are on high alert, they’re harder to take out in one fell swoop. And they’ve pulled out the heavy weaponry. Let’s see how well this new crystal works. I deflect several bolts, working my way forward while Carth lays down fire. Bastila pushes forward more aggressively than I’ve ever seen her before, but quite gracefully. Nice form. Very dramatic. I’ll have to get her to tell me what it is later.

That’s one wave down. I doubt it’ll be the last. “How quickly can you do this, Rena?” she asks.

“Just watch my speed.” The droid bay, save for a few droids, is empty, and the computer is in an adjoining room. Okay. Alpha, alpha, double bar, beta sigma, little red star. “I’m in. First thing to do is shut off that damned alarm." A few button pushes and bam. No more siren.

“Sounds like progress to me,” Bastila says.

“Can you get the bridge open?” Carth asks.

“This is a roundabout system,” I say, “I have to keep jumping through hoops to even find the bridge commands.” Come on, baby, work with me. No, no, no, don’t say that. Damn! “Looks like Saul is two steps ahead of me. The only one who can open the bridge is him, from the bridge.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Carth groans.

“Don’t sell me short just yet, hot stuff,” I say, “Saul may be smart, but he’s not smarter than me. If he was, he wouldn’t have threatened you. He may have blocked me from the direct route, but there’s only so many back doors you can close off before people start complaining that they can’t get any work done.” Work orders. Engineers and service droids see every part of the ship, so they have ways to get everywhere. “Looks like there was a battle right before they picked us up, there was some damage to the hull, blew a hole in the bridge.”

“It’s in space, that won’t do us any good,” Carth says.

“It does us a lot of good, it means that the space suits are out of storage, we can just take them and walk to the bridge from the outside. All we have to do is get to the airlock.”

“You say that like it’s easy,” Bastila says.

“We’re on the Sith flagship, nothing is easy,” I say, “But this is the best of a lot of bad options, so it’s space walk or nothing. Unless you’ve suddenly got the computer power to calculate all the possible ID codes to open the door.” Could I program a droid to do that? Sure, in an hour. But we don’t have an hour. Space walk is the best idea. I hate it, but it’s the only option here.

Bastila thinks for a moment, then sighs. “Where would the airlock be?”

“Other end of the deck,” Carth says, “but the space suits would be in the armory, that’s just around the corner.”

I get into the security system quickly and unlock every door I can between here and the airlock. “We should hurry,” I say, “Just because the alarm is off doesn’t mean the troopers will stop.”

Second wave in the hall. Six troopers, two for each of us. Some of them even planned ahead and brought swords. It’s almost like all the good Sith are stationed here. You’d think they’d spread out the competent fighters a bit more. God, my ribs hurt! I got this. I got this. False swipe, side swipe, one down. Double block the second, pushing my lightsabers against his one sword. With one big push he stumbles back, lost his balance. Slice. Done. Bastila dispatches her two, and Carth follows soon after. Second wave done.

The armory is unlocked, I did that earlier. But… I stop Carth from walking in. “Hang on,” I say, “Something’s not right.” I open the door and stand aside, look. A mine? Seriously? Who would lay an explosive down on a ship where almost everyone is wearing a full head helmet? Nobody can see! “Let me deactivate this.” Whoever set this has a solid grasp on wiring, I’d be impressed if I had the time. But it’s a standard model mine, not a custom job, so all I have to do is cut the detonator wire. And this setup is nice and neat so no problems. Snip snip. “Okay, we’re good.” The space suits consist of a study helmet and a bulky suit. Since we have to carry them, we’ll have to be quick because there’s no way we can hold onto the suits and fight at the same time, they’re just too bulky.

Carth seems to read my mind. “We can cut through the next room and we’ll be right next to the bridge storage, the airlock’s just past there.”

“Awesome. One second, there’s another mine.” Snip snip the wire, easy. Really, whose bright idea was it to put mines there? Sure, it could hurt us, but it could also hurt their own troops which is only good for us. Stupid idea, really.

Bastila stops us now, just before the bridge storage and airlock. “Rena, be ready,” she says, “There’s… something.”

“I’m always ready.” Open the door. I sense it, too. Dark Jedi. If I can figure out Jolee’s stasis trick… I reach out one hand with the Force, giving it a shot before I go all the way in. First try, awesome! So nice to be a quick study. But I have no idea how long it’ll last so I better get in before they unfreeze. There’s three of them, so I focus on the one in the middle first, then the one on the right. When they unfreeze, the second one can barely stand and the last one is outnumbered. He starts with Bastila, which is a better choice than starting with me but still a horrible decision. The only wise decision he could have made was to cut and run, but now he has to face two Jedi at once. And I fight dirty. And when he’s dead, we move on to the airlock.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #autistic artist #fiction #specs writes stuff #kotor fic #rena visz #oc #fem!revan #ls!revan #carth onasi #bastila shan #leviathan #mission vao #jolee bindo #canderous ordo #chapter 104

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