Freelance Transport Void, hyperspace tunnel en route to Mandalore system, 0800 hours
Vhetin sat cross-legged in the center of his quarters, helmet and flight suit top removed. He was inspecting the bandages that still covered his body, particularly a blood-soaked portion on his shoulder. He gingerly peeled away the gauze, grimacing as the dried blood caused it to stick to the wound. When he had succeeded in removing the bandage, he drew another length of medical bandage from a medkit lying open on the floor in front of him and began wrapping it around his shoulder.
He was still weak from his incarceration. Three months of malnutrition and disease didn't just disappear overnight, no matter how much bacta was pumped through his system. He didn't know how long it would take for him to be back up to speed, but he knew it would be quite some time.
Illness aside, he couldn't put into words how glad he was to be free. The Facility, as he and his fellow prisoners had called their prison, had been hell itself as far as he'd been concerned. He'd been subjected to horrible biological tests, his lungs punctured with hand-length needles and his body ravaged by a synthesized pneumonia virus, all so the Imperials could discover a way to meld his genetically-produced physical abilities with human physiology. Their tests had always ended in failure, however, their carrier virus creating nothing but twisted, psychotic abominations of life that infected anything they interacted with. Vhetin himself had been lucky, only receiving a severe case of pneumonia, fever, and frequent vomiting.
He scowled and shook his head. So much death... what kind of a person could look at such research and believe it was a good use of time, money, and personnel? Who could willingly consign so many innocents to a life of pain and torture?
With effort, he pushed such dark thoughts from his mind. It wasn't important now; the Facility had been destroyed during his escape, and all the Imperial scientists with it. Even if the Empire had contingency plans to safeguard the research, it would take them months to rebuild. He had time to relax, recuperate, and plan for such an eventuality.
A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered who he had to thank for his deliverance: Jay, his partner and best friend, who had apparently spent the entirety of the last three months searching for him. He had to admit, he was surprised at the devotion she had shown him. He had always known she was loyal, but to spend so long searching for him and never give up hope...
He finished tying the bandage around his shoulder, gingerly touching the skin around the gauze to make sure it was secure.
Yes, Jay had exceeded all his greatest expectations when he had first agreed to train her as a bounty hunter. She had assembled a special infiltration team to help her sneak into the research base where he had been held and gathered together everything from Echani to Trandoshans to a massive alien bounty hunter known as D'harhan, who sported a gigantic laser cannon where his head used to be. It was impressive, even by his strict standards.
He suddenly closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swept over him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to bury the sensation. It worked, at least for the moment.
He was still sick from his pneumonia infection. One of the side-effects of this new virus was that his lungs repeatedly filled with some kind of bio-engineered fluid, viscous and black, that he had to regurgitate every few hours. It made breathing difficult and if anyone else was exposed to the fluid, they would be infected by the virus as well. It was dangerous and disgusting. Vhetin couldn't wait for the viral infection to wear off.
If it ever wore off.
He swallowed with difficulty, setting aside the medkit. He looked around his dark quarters – the lights had hurt his eyes, so he had kept them switched off – and slowly rose to his feet. He walked over to a set of armor lockers bolted into the bulkheads next to his cot and stared up into the faceplate of a Mandalorian battle suit. It was his old armor, painted matte black with lighter gray stripes. He smiled a little again and typed in a code to open the locker. With a hiss of escaping pressurized air, the transparisteel cover slid open.
Within minutes, he had pulled the armor from the locker and arranged it on his cot for easy access while he dressed. He was about to pull on his flight suit when the feeling of nausea returned, stronger this time. Once again, he tried to suppress it, to bury it down inside where it wouldn't effect him. This time, it didn't work.
His stomach churned and his chest tightened, sure signs that regurgitation was inevitable. He quickly looked around the room, his gaze falling on a waste basket set up next to his desk. He quickly grabbed it and sank to his knees, closing his eyes and attempting to regain control of his stomach.
There was a knock at his door. He grimaced as his stomach tightened dangerously. "Hold... hold on a second."
"Cin?" came Jay's voice from the other side of the door. "Are you all right?"
He couldn't answer. In the next moment, his stomach lurched and he vomited black fluid into the waste basket. Jay must have heard him, because the next moment the door slid open and she took a concerned step inside. He quickly threw out a warning hand.
"Don't..." he gasped. "Stay back."
She did, eyes wide and worried. "Are you all right?"
"Just give me a-" he spewed preservative fluid into the waste basket again. His chest was so tight, lungs constricting so powerfully, that his torso bandages were actually coming loose. He put a hand to his wounded chest and vomited another long stream of fluid.
Finally, the feeling of nausea began to abate. After he was finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of one hand and fell away from the waste basket, back hitting the edge of his cot. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his rolling stomach under control again. When he could speak, he opened his eyes and looked over at Jay, face shrouded in shadow.
"Sorry about that," he panted.
"You can't help it," she said, taking a step closer. "Are you okay now?"
He nodded, swallowing audibly. "I actually feel a little better after I do that. It's hard to be nauseous when you have nothing left to puke up."
She nodded, still looking a little concerned. He continued, "Stay away from that basket. I'll send it out the airlock in a minute with a timed incendiary charge. Should be enough to burn up that virus."
She nodded, then leaned against a bulkhead. "I'm sure you just need some rest. You'll be back to new in no time."
Vhetin nodded, rubbing his sore throat. "I hope so. It would be a shame to be a free man but spend the rest of my life infected with this damn disease."
"On the plus side," she said, "if you're stuck in a hazmat suit the rest of your life, you'll never have to show anyone your face again."
"Very funny Jay. You're just mad that the lights are off and you can't see me clearly now."
Jay nodded with a smile, then looked over at the desk next to her. She noticed an activated holopic on the desktop and slowly picked it up. Glancing over at her, he saw she was holding a pic of Brianna. It was an image he remembered well: he had taken it himself. They had been walking one day, two or so years ago, on a sunny Market Day when she had found a new pistol for her armament collection. He had insisted on taking a pic of her with her treasured new weapon.
"I thought you said the Imperials destroyed your picture of Brianna?" Jay said, studying the picture with a slight smile.
"They destroyed my favorite," he replied, pulling himself into a more comfortable sitting position. "I had others."
"Did you miss her?"
He chuckled, then held his stomach and grimaced. "Nice to see your sense of curiosity is still intact, Jay."
"I'm sorry," she quickly said, setting down the picture and stepping away. "It's none of my business. I just thought, you know, since you two had broken up-"
He held up a hand. "It's okay. I was joking."
He stared at the floor ahead of him and narrowed his eyes. "I... yes, I missed her. There were times I spent the entire day in my cell thinking about nothing but her. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh..."
"You still care about her," she said, slowly setting aside the pic. "A lot."
"Breakup or no," he said, "five years together is a long time. Three months apart won't change how I feel."
He hesitated, not sure he wanted to ask the question that next rose to his mind. "How... um, do you know how she's doing?"
She nodded. "I kept an eye on her while you were gone. Made sure she was doing okay."
"And?"
She sighed. "When I told her about what happened on Mon Calamari... she took it hard, Cin. She took it really hard. It made me wonder whether I should have told her at all. After she heard the news she disappeared for over a week, never leaving her apartment. Mia went to check on her, but she wouldn't unlock her apartment door to let her in."
She shrugged. "Even after she started showing up in public again, she was... different. Quieter, a little less outgoing. I think she blamed herself for what happened."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I think she believed that leaving you was what caused you to be captured. That she weakened you emotionally, made it easier for the Tracker to get under your skin."
"That's ridiculous," he said. "I mean, yeah she hurt me. But she was never a factor in my decision to fight the Tracker. I decided to fight to protect her."
She shrugged. "That's just what I think."
"And what about now?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cin, but I haven't had contact with her recently. All I know is nothing but rumors and hearsay. I'm not really willing to fill your head with stuff that might not be true."
He stared at her for a few moments, then nodded. "Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Look on the bright side," she said, "Mia commed before we jumped to hyperspace and said Brianna agreed to meet us at the spaceport. She'll be waiting for you."
He nodded. That news had been at the forefront of his mind since he'd heard. The idea that she would be right there when he stepped down the landing ramp after so long apart... it was the best news he'd heard in a long time.
But he had forced himself to calm himself when he had first heard the news. For all he knew, she would just want to remain friends. Just because he'd been held captive for the past three months didn't automatically mean they were back together again.
He eventually pulled himself to his feet and said, "In any case, thanks for keeping an eye on her. It means a lot to me."
Jay nodded. "It was the least I could do."
He nodded as he set about replacing his armor. He pulled his flight suit over his head, slipped into his armored flak vest, then pulled on his black facemask. He then settled his Mandalorian battle helmet over his head, his suit sealing with a hiss of pressurizing air. His amber-hued HUD activated in a flash of light, then began feeding him information about his surroundings: the chemical balance of the filtered air, a status report of the engine coolant conduits thrumming away beneath the floor, even the speed of Jay's heartbeat and respiration.
He saw she was smiling at him and he tipped his head curiously. "What?"
She shook her head, still smiling. "It's just good to see you in that armor again. Somehow it seems like you're actually back when you walk around in your kit."
"Understandable," he said, grabbing his jetpack from where it was leaning against the wall. He settled it over his shoulders, waiting until the magnetic clamps set into his back plate locked the pack to his armor. Once done, he grabbed his lightsaber pike and clipped it to the side of the pack. "You've never actually seen me fully without my helmet. My armor is the only thing you recognize of me. Without it, I'm just some random guy."
"We've been through a lot together," she pointed out, "I think that makes you more than just some random guy, even when you don't have your helmet on."
Vhetin nodded and stepped through the door, heading for the cargo bay. He had to check up on stocks, see what supplies Jay had brought for the mission.
"Speaking of which..." Jay began hesitantly. "When do you think you might let me finally see your face? You know, without your mask on?"
He paused, frowning behind his helmet faceplate. "I... I don't know, really. Why?"
"Just... curiosity," she said. "I mean, it feels kind of weird that we're such good friends, but I don't even know what you look like. Don't tell me it isn't weird to you."
"No," he admitted. "Now that you mention it..."
"Why do you keep it on in the first place?"
"Rame has always said it's because I'm shy," Vhetin replied. "To be honest, I really don't know. I just feel more comfortable with it on."
"I would have thought it was because you wanted anonymity during hunting contracts. You were able to sneak around that restaurant back on Mon Cal that one time because no one knew who you really were."
"I guess that's part of it," he said with a shrug. "Like I said, I mostly just don't feel all that comfortable without it."
"If that's how you feel," she said, sounding slightly disappointed. "Anyway, we should be arriving in the Mandalore system before long. You'll be back before you know it."
He keyed open the door to the cargo bay, the largest room on the ship. On hunting contracts, Vhetin needed every edge he could get, so he didn't skimp out on the supplies he brought. He was pleased to find that Jay seemed to have picked that up as well: the entire room was stacked with cargo crates, shipping containers, and weapon lockers. Vhetin saw some new crates mixed in with his old stocks, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The food ration had been mostly untouched, as had the weapon lockers. Jay had obviously relied on her own ammunition to carry her through her missions. Of the new crates, Vhetin saw minor equipment upgrades, scanning kits, and several crates of heavy weapons and ammunition.
But Vhetin and Jay weren't the only ones in the cramped cargo bay. The Handmaiden was also present, near one corner. The Echani had her white hood pulled back, letting her shoulder-length white hair fall loose, and her collapsible quarterstaff was in her hands. She was spinning the weapon in her hands, lashing out at empty air with powerful, carefully-measured strikes. Jay folded her arms and leaned against a bulkhead, watching her curiously. Vhetin followed suit.
The Handmaiden moved with a smooth grace that contradicted the violence of her motions. Watching her, Vhetin was reminded more of a dancer than a seasoned soldier. She spun and flipped, her staff carving arcs through the air, her hands moving too quickly to follow. She fell to her knees, whipping her staff over her head before driving it down into the floor, using the momentum of the blow to carry her to her feet again. She then made her way towards what looked like one of Vhetin's old wooden armor mannequins.
She began bashing away at the dummy with blows from her staff, kicks, even punches. Her attacks grew faster and faster, until Vhetin could barely see her movements; she was little more than a white blur against the slate-gray bulkheads that surrounded her. Eventually there was a loud snap and the mannequin's head was knocked off by the sheer force of her attack. The wooden head bounced across the floor as the Handmaiden took a slow step back, retracting the durasteel shafts of her weapon. She was panting hard, gloved hands clenched into fists. She slowly closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, sheathing her quarterstaff and bowing her head for a moment. After a few calming breaths, she looked up at her surroundings, as if only now realizing there were others in the room. When she saw Vhetin and Jay standing against the wall, she narrowed her blue eyes.
"I was unaware I had spectators," she said, pulling her hood back over her head and throwing her face into partial shadow.
"We were just admiring your combat skills," Jay said. "Right Cin?"
Vhetin said nothing. Though the Echani's display was indeed impressive, he wasn't about to give her such a compliment. Echani and Mandalorians hadn't historically gotten along well, and in the short time he'd known her, the Handmaiden had reminded him why. The Echani warrior was arrogant, condescending, and had one of the biggest egos he'd ever seen. If it were up to him, they would have ditched the white-clad woman at the nearest Imperial space station and left her there.
But Jay wasn't about to let it slide. She nudged Vhetin's arm hard and said, "Right Cin?"
He glared at her, then grunted, "Right. I guess."
Handmaiden clipped her staff back to her black leather belt, then folded her arms. "Was there something in particular you needed?"
"I was just coming to check up on my supplies," Vhetin said, stepping toward the cargo crates. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting like the others?"
"An Echani is trained to always be prepared," she explained. "The end of one battle does not guarantee there will not be another."
"That's a little pessimistic, wouldn't you say?" Vhetin asked, prying the lid off one of the equipment upgrades. Inside, he saw an advanced signal scrambler, military-grade and very powerful, designed to shut down enemy scanners and jam outgoing communications.
He frowned and looked up at Jay. "This is an Imperial prototype. Where did you get it?"
She shrugged. "We raided an Imperial supply depot that was housing some of the instruments your Whiteclaw scientists were using. After we dealt with the Imperials, we decided it would be a shame to let all that equipment go to waste."
He shook his head. "You do realize we'll all be shot if Imperials decide to search the ship and they found this?"
"All the more reason to get it installed quickly," Jay said with a grin.
He re-sealed the crate and said, "So just how many Imperial bases did you attack trying to find me?"
Jay glanced at the Handmaiden, who shrugged and turned away, once again returning to her combat practice. Jay eventually looked back at Vhetin and said, "I don't know, three? Four? Enough to get the Imperials interested in just what I was looking for."
Vhetin was about to say more when the cargo bay door slid open and he heard large, lumbering footsteps approaching. He looked over at the door in time to see D'harhan's massive frame as the alien squeezed himself through the door. Surprisingly, Rame was following close behind.
"All I'm saying," Rame was muttering, "is that you were shot almost thirty times in the chest. I don't know just what kind of alien you are, but most people have important organs stored in that region. At least let me examine you so we don't have to worry about you keeling over on us."
"UNNECESSARY," D'harhan's voice boomed from his synthetic voice box. His chest was indeed still bleeding profusely, but the alien seemed to pay his wounds no mind. "MY KIND ARE EXTREMELY RESILIENT. I WILL HEAL IN DUE TIME."
Rame threw his hands up in defeat and shook his head. "I don't believe it. This guy's more stubborn than you are, Cin."
"Maybe he hates needles as much as I do," Vhetin suggested with a shrug. He slid the cargo crate back into its place with the others, then turned to watch D'harhan as the alien stomped up to Jay.
He was certainly a spectacle. Over three meters of hulking muscle, he had dark, leathery green skin with large patches of reflective black armor plating surgically fastened onto his body. A complex mechanical tail was also implanted into his spine and a sharp, barbed clamp sprouted from the end of the metallic tail, allowing D'harhan to grasp the ground. He used this function of his tail to transform the prosthetic into a support strut while he fired his primary weapon: a tremendous light-mass blaster cannon that was surgically implanted into his neck. What had happened to his head, Vhetin could only guess.
He didn't particularly enjoy the idea of a nine-foot walking death machine waltzing around his ship, so he had taken to keeping a cautious eye on the alien whenever and wherever possible. During the trip, however, the massive bounty hunter had done little apart from sit quietly in the engine room, cannon powered down. If Vhetin didn't know better, he'd think D'harhan had been sleeping.
Jay seemed much more at ease with the hulking bounty hunter. She smiled at him as he approached and said, "What can I do for you, D?"
"WE ARE NEARING THE MANDALORE SYSTEM," D'harhan rumbled. "WE SHOULD BE TRANSFERRING TO REALSPACE SOON. I WOULD ADVISE RETURNING TO THE COCKPIT TO PREPARE."
Jay nodded and thanked him, stepping toward the door. Vhetin followed her, eager to be home again. D'harhan, meanwhile, turned his synthetic gaze on the Handmaiden's combat practice with the sensors mounted on his head-cannon. The Echani noticed his scrutiny and stopped, lowering her quarterstaff.
"What?" she said defensively. "Do you need something?"
D'harhan shrugged, the support girders and coolant tubes set about his neck creaking and groaning. A quick blast of coolant steam erupted from his cannon's housing. "IT CONTINUES TO ASTOUND ME THAT YOU ARE SUCH A PROFICIENT WARRIOR WHEN YOU CHOOSE TO WIELD SUCH... PUNY WEAPONRY."
"I would rather be skilled in combat and wield a puny weapon," the Handmaiden replied evenly, "than trust all my battlefield skills to a single oversized explosive device."
"YOUR NARROW-MINDEDNESS IS WHY YOU SHALL NEVER BE ABLE TO CRIPPLE AN IMPERIAL WALKER WITH A SINGLE SHOT."
"And your brutishness is why you shall never understand the term stealth," the Handmaiden shot back, "nor implement it in combat. Now leave me to my practices."
D'harhan's cannon-head lowered with a buzz of hydraulics. "AS YOU WISH."
The massive alien then turned and lumbered after Vhetin and Jay, heading for the door. As they passed, Jay glanced at Rame and said, "What about you? Any medical concerns I should be aware of?"
"I've patched up everyone to the best of my ability," the medic reported as they walked. They paused a moment once outside to allow D'harhan to struggle through the door again. Once they were sure he could extricate himself from the cargo bay without getting stuck, the three set off toward the cockpit.
"How's Ti'ica holding up?" Jay asked quietly. "Losing Trassk back in that place was obviously hard on her."
Rame nodded. "It was. But she's doing better now. She's glad that he went down fighting, at least. And she says we managed to kill at least a hundred Imperials in that explosion. She thinks everyone's even now."
"Good. Keep an eye on her, will you?"
"Sure thing," Rame replied with a lazy salute. He parted ways with them at the door to the tiny, cramped medical bay. "I'll be here if you need me. Cin, don't forget that you're going to need another immuno-booster. After being infected with your pneumonia disease for so long, your immune system is weak. And the surgery to get those plugs out of your body didn't do you any favors."
"I won't forget," Vhetin replied tersely. "I wouldn't want to be killed by a simple cold. That would just be embarrassing."
"Remember that sentiment the next time you complain that you hate needles," the medic said, then disappeared inside.
Jay stopped at the entrance to Vhetin's quarters. She gestured to the door and said, "You go ahead and get some sleep. I'll wake you when we're ready to descend."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I want to be there when-"
"It will take time to authorize the ship for landing in Keldabe," she said. "You know that. Get some rest and I'll wake you up when we're ready to land."
"I don't..." he paused, then sighed and nodded. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He was still exhausted from their escape and the last thing he wanted was to be tired when he met Brianna again. So he thanked her and let her continue alone to the cockpit. He keyed open the door of his quarters. He cautiously removed his armor, careful not to irritate his wounds. Once done, he rested himself slowly on his cot, letting out a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes and within minutes, he was asleep.
"You aren't making things any easier for yourself, Primary."
Vhetin shook his head, pulling against his restraints. The electro-shock binders crackled and sent jolts of pain up his arms, but he ignored them. He kept his gaze fixed on the tabletop in front of him, refusing to meet the doctor's gaze.
"L-let me go," he gasped. "I'm n-not telling you anything."
"Unfortunate."
Vhetin screamed as the power to his binders was increased and electricity coursed through his system. Sparks flew through the darkness, casting twisted, monstrous shadows across the walls.
The torture ebbed after a few moments and his captor leaned forward. "Tell us what we want to know, Primary. How do you use your abilities? Your speed, strength, psychometric imaging; all you have to do is give us the information and you can return to your cell."
"I don't know!" Vhetin shouted, breathing hard. "I... I can just do these things! You think its some kind of kriffing magic trick?"
Another surge of electricity, another wave of pain. When the pain finally faded, Vhetin slumped forward in his chair, struggling to draw breath into his fluid-filled lungs. He let out a wheezing cough, blood dripping from his lips.
"Very well," his captor finally said after several long, silent moments. "Then perhaps you can explain how to cure the molecular degeneration your genetic material causes in other subjects."
Vhetin let out a weak laugh and looked up at the doctor through streaming eyes. "Do I look like a geneticist? Even if I did know, why would I help you fix your disease? This degeneration you keep talking about is the only reason you haven't used it yet."
The doctor narrowed his eyes. "Yes, we figured you would reason along similar lines."
He tapped a button on his datapad and the electro-shock restraints sputtered out. With a loud click, they snapped open, freeing him. He slowly sat up in the chair, rubbing his raw, bleeding wrists. He narrowed his eyes at the doctor and said, "What is this?"
The doctor shrugged. "My superiors merely wish to show you exactly what your defiance is accomplishing. If you would please step forward."
He gestured to the shadowy figure of a large window built into the wall behind him. Vhetin cautiously stood, cautious not to irritate the needle-plugs set into his chest, arms, and legs. He limped toward the mirror while the doctor stepped into the shadows, out of sight.
Vhetin stepped closer to the reflective surface of the window. He glanced in the direction the doctor had vanished. What was going on?
The lights suddenly flashed on, flooding the room with white-hot light. Vhetin cursed and shielded his eyes. When his eyes eventually adjusted to the new illumination, he squinted to see through a window in front of him. Through the window, he could see several medical beds lined in a row. The restraints looked as if they had been ripped out of their housing and there were deep red blood splatters on each bed.
Vhetin narrowed his eyes. It would take great strength to rip out of those medical beds; even he wasn't strong enough to tear his way loose. Yet here were five beds, all of them looking as if they had been attacked by something.
He was about to look back at the doctor when something hit the window. He cursed and fell back, scrambling away from the window on all fours.
Staring at him was a monstrous being with gnashing teeth, stringy brown hair, and open sores along its arms and face. As Vhetin watched, the single figure was joined by several others, all clawing at the window. They were dressed in the tattered, bloodstained clothing, letting out pained groans and gurgly screams as they tried to bash their way through the transparisteel.
He heard footsteps behind him and looked up to find the doctor standing next to him. He scrambled to his feet and pointed to the window. "What the hell are those?"
"The product of your resistance," the doctor said, eying the monsters calmly. "The consequences."
He looked over at Vhetin with distaste and said, "Why don't you take a closer look? I believe you will find something familiar."
Vhetin glared at the doctor, then took a cautious step toward the window, staring at the first creature that had jumped at him. It snarled at him, bashing its fists against the window, drooling and growling at him. At first he didn't see anything besides a monster. Then his blood ran cold as he met the creature's gaze and he instantly recognized the soft brown eyes that stared balefully out at him.
He put a hand against the window, thinking, no... no, it can't be true.
"Brianna?" he whispered.
The creature let out a screeching roar and slammed its head against the window, leaving a bloody splatter mark against the transparent surface. Vhetin took a horrified step back, beginning to now recognize the others. Rame was to Brianna's left, eyes flashing, slamming his fists against the window. Jay was on the right, gnashing her teeth and raking her bloody fingernails down the window's surface. Venku was in the room as well, as was Mia. They had all been transformed into monsters, all of them covered in blood and oozing sores.
Vhetin closed his eyes and took another step away, fighting the urge to vomit. "No... no, it can't be possible. You're lying!"
Someone suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him back against the window, only inches from the drooling, roaring creatures that had once been his friends and family.
"Look at them!" a new voice shouted. "Look at what you've done! This is your fault!"
"No," he groaned, "no, I was trying to keep them safe!"
The being holding him against the window suddenly flipped him around and grabbed him tightly around the throat. Vhetin gasped and grabbed at the being's wrist, then stopped dead when he saw just who was attacking him now.
It was himself.
Another Vhetin, this one dressed from head to toe in his black-gray Mandalorian armor, was pinning him by the throat against the window. He was grasping a lit lightsaber pike in one hand, the blade of which hummed violently.
"You're weak," this new Vhetin growled, staring coldly at him through his T-visored helmet. "Pathetic. You cause all of this, then snivel like a child when you're faced with the consequences of your actions."
"K-kriff... you," Vhetin gasped, futilely trying to pull New Vhetin's arm from his throat. "If I'm... responsible for this, then... so are you. We're the same!"
"No!" New Vhetin shouted. He slammed Vhetin against the window again, hard enough to crack the surface. Vhetin could hear the sounds of the monsters that had been his friends growling and moaning in anticipation.
"No!" New Vhetin shouted again. "I am everything that's good about us! All our strength! You're nothing but our weaknesses!"
"I... am everything that makes us human," Vhetin managed to choke out. "Everything that makes us a person."
New Vhetin stared at him, unmoving, for a long time. He didn't release his tight grip on Vhetin's throat, but he thought New Vhetin was considering letting him go. Then New Vhetin cocked his helmeted head slightly and said, "Who in the hell made you think I want that?"
"What?" Vhetin managed to say. Then New Vhetin drove his pike forward, skewering him through the chest with the glowing energy blade. Vhetin's eyes went wide as fire washed through his chest and he let out a strangled, choking gasp.
"Vader and the Imperials trying to kill us?" New Vhetin snarled, slowly pulling the blade free. "That was your fault for growing a conscience!"
He punctuated conscience by stabbing forward again. Vhetin let out another choked scream, struggling as he felt the glowing blue lightsaber blade of the pike carve through his chest again.
"Brianna leaving us? That was you!" Another stab.
"The Tracker hunting us? You again!" Stab.
Vhetin slumped, feeling slipping from his extremities. He felt blood leaking from his lips, could smell his own cauterized flesh as New Vhetin drew the pike away again. New Vhetin now leaned close, until the faceplate of his helmet almost touched Vhetin's nose.
"And Whiteclaw?" New Vhetin whispered. "All the pain they wrought? All the horrors they inflicted on the innocent? There's no one to blame but you!"
With that, he pulled Vhetin forward, then slammed him against the window again. He felt the clear surface of the window give way and he toppled back into the room beyond in a shower of shattered transparisteel. He landed hard, skidding across the smooth floor until his back hit the far wall of the room.
He tried to struggle to his feet, but he saw the infected Brianna towering over him. He tried to crawl away, but she threw herself on him, tearing at his face and arms with her fingernails. He tried to shove her away, but she sank her teeth deep into his shoulder. He screamed and pushed her away, but monster-Jay now threw herself at him, latching onto his forearm with sharp teeth.
As one, they descended on him, scratching or biting wherever they could. The last thing Vhetin saw was the image of himself staring unsympathetically through the shattered window.