Three Days on Peragus
Disclaimer: Atton doesn't belong to me, sadly.
Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Trillian4210. We were talking about all the angst possibilities in the game that go sadly unexplored, and this one came up. I wrote it and sent it off to her, and she said I should post it. So here it is. Happy reading, everyone!
Roast gizka...glazed onions...pear tarts...
No don't think about food, don't think about food, don't think about food!
Like most advice Atton gave himself, it came too late. His stomach cramped uncomfortably, reminding him with some urgency that it had been three days since his last meal.
One thing was for certain. He was never coming back to Peragus again. Those miners – assuming any had survived whatever was going on out there -- and their pathetic black market were off the list. No more smuggled goods. Not from him, at any rate. They could damn well look for someone else willing to fly out to their backwater little mine. Let someone else sit in the force cage next time.
Four days now, it had been. The last three spent utterly alone. No food, no water, no nothing.
Not much frightened Atton, but the thought of dying slowly while trapped in this cell was not a pleasant one. He had stopped shouting for someone to come two days ago, and he was slowly losing hope that there was anyone at all left alive on Peragus. Surely if there was, they would have let him out by now.
Surely they would have…
He forced the growing panic from his mind and tried to count cards, but even the old habits did not work very well now. It was too hard to concentrate on something like pazaak when he was straining to listen for the sound of footsteps, or a voice.
I suppose it's only fitting. I mean, how many did you kill? How many of them died with no one ever knowing the true story of their end? I guess it makes sense that you should die here, where no one will ever find your rotting corpse.
He scowled. These were not good things to be thinking. It wasn't like him to dwell on the past. But ever since he had learned that a Jedi had come to Peragus, he had found himself thinking all kinds of strange things.
He had thought about maybe approaching the Jedi. He might suggest the use of his ship as transport for wherever the Jedi wanted to go. After that, well, anything was possible. All those years of wishing for a second chance, and here it was, assuming of course that the Jedi didn't kill him on the spot.
Of course, all that had been before the explosions, and the silence, and the terrible thirst, and the slow starvation. Now he knew better. The unlucky Jedi was probably dead along with everyone else on Peragus. And there was not going to be any second chance for him. He had been a fool to even think there might be.
He hated that his life was ending like this. All those risky flight missions, all that smuggling going on right under the nose of some very powerful Hutts, all for nothing. The more dangerous the mission, the more eagerly he had tackled it. He had even flown in and out of Taris when it had been under the Sith quarantine, although never in the capital, for that would have been blatantly suicidal, and subtle deathwishing was more Atton's style. But dammit, all those years when it could have ended spectacularly, and now here he was, doomed to a death he wouldn't have wished on anyone, even as a Sith.
He gave a little ironic chuckle – hard to do when his throat was so dry. Apparently fate or the Force or something had a sense of humor.
It was so hard not to think about food. Even a soldier's tasteless rations would have been welcome right now. And water. Jugs of cool, clear water. He would have given anything for a drink right then.
He hoped his crew's fate matched his own. No doubt they were laughing right now, zipping through hyperspace in his ship, congratulating themselves on not getting arrested like their captain. He bitterly hoped that they came out of hyperspace on top of an asteroid. Losing his ship would be worth it, if it meant being rid of the faithless crew who had turned tail and run at the first sign of trouble on Peragus.
Atton was so busy imagining that fateful meeting of ship and asteroid, and the subsequent pretty explosions it would make, that when he heard the sound of blaster fire, at first it didn't even register. When it did, he leaped to his feet, his heart pounding.
Please, whoever you are, open the door! I'm in here!
He stared at the door, willing it to open and reveal his rescuer. The sound of battle was closer now; the noise the mining droids made as they were destroyed was unmistakable.
"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, a bit shocked at how hoarse he sounded. He cleared his throat, wincing painfully at the rasp of dry tissues. He didn't care who came through that door. The first thing he was going to do was ask for a drink of water. Pride be damned. He would even beg, if he had to.
The battle noises stopped. Atton held his breath, waiting.
Please. You can't leave me in here. Please!
He clenched his fists at his side, quivering with anxious hope.
It felt like an eternity passed before the door whooshed open.
Atton looked at his savior, and all his planned speeches flew out of his head. He forgot how thirsty he was. His hunger was forgotten. Even his desperate need to be free took a backseat to the vision before him.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And before he even knew he was going to do it, he was saying, "Nice outfit. What, you miners change regulation uniforms while I was in here?"
The woman in her underwear walked into the room. And just like that, Atton Rand lost his heart.