Summary: Rey gets cornered, and has to think fast if she wants to get out alive.

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The Chiss perched on the bow of the cargo hauler hefted a sniper rifle.

"Eyes front!" Cerebos roared, and lit up the turbo thrusters. His lieutenants Chas and Minnie flanked him as he powered through the Clan rear guard, fire and twisted metal glancing harmlessly off his shields. The warlord eyed his side scanners. Clear.

"All ahead full!" he yelled, nodding to the three raiders crouched behind him. They whooped with glee and headed for the hatch, grappling hooks in hand. Cerebos's blood screamed in his ears as they closed in on the Chiss, cutting through the Clan in a whirlwind of broken bodies and fire. "Unlock in five – four – three – HOLD!"

He dropped altitude just as the Chiss fired off three shots in rapid succession, his dorsal proximity monitor shrieking in warning. His starboard wingman wasn't so lucky.

"My gyros are gone!" Chas shrieked, his voice shorting out the comm. "I can't steer – "

Rage flooded Cerebos' body as the wounded ship swayed drunkenly from side to side, belching smoke from the shredded underbelly.

"Chas – Eject!" Minnie cried. "I can't get a lock on - My Lord – "

"Stay on target!" Cerebos barked. "Hard starboard - Fry the Sithspawn!"

Too late. The Chiss fired again, this time taking out the front deflectors. Three Clan warriors backed him up, raining blaster fire on Chas' ship. Two more fired up the energy turret in the rear, keeping Minnie's Headhunter at bay with a hail of green fire.

The Clan howled in unison as Chas' ship smashed into the Ravager. The Chiss fired three shots into the air – the back-world code for parley - and waved in Cerebos' direction. The warlord squinted.

A comlink.

"Want to talk, eh?" he sneered. "Look at that, it wants to talk!"

The cockpit rang with laughter.

"Stand by to unlock," Cerebos barked. Chas died well, he thought. "The Clan will burn!"

######

Thunder rocked the canyon as one of Cerebos' gunships hit the Ravager. The Clan screamed with triumph, voices cutting through the roar of engines and fire, freezing Rey's blood in her veins. She gripped the controls grimly and pulled up the dashboard diagnostic screen.

Fuel: Good.

Coolant: Good…I think… Rey had never flown this particular species of speeder, and if the previous owner had altered it significantly, her mental library of its relatives would probably hurt more than help.

Alternator: Ok – Needs a checkup. She'd take care of it at home.

Yeah, she thought defiantly. I'm making it home.

Maglev: Decent, but it's almost in the yellow, and the way I'm pushing it…Kriff… The speeder chassis clanged and lurched under her, as if to punctuate her thoughts.

And the raiders were gaining.

It didn't matter that they were hell-bent on taking each other out. If they caught up to her, she was dead.

Or worse.

Rey pushed the thought back. She'd been cornered before. Never like this, yes, but at some point, she always got tired of being afraid. The terror sharpened her senses, slicing the world away until only her life and her target remained.

That, and how she was going to hit her target.

Then it either burned itself out, and she was left slumped and shaking on some forgotten catwalk deep inside a rotting wreck, the ledge she'd been standing on seconds before vanishing into the dark, or smoldered deep and red and bloody, a rough grip on her core that dragged her forward by that last, shuddering thread of strength, keeping her alive. It didn't care how.

Nausea gripped her. The memory of her staff crushing the human woman's windpipe, the wet crunch of cartilage and skin welled up to the surface of her mind.

Rey didn't know if she could do it again. She'd been outnumbered and out-gunned, up against an enemy that would gladly kill her for the food in her knapsack. She'd been on autopilot, lashing out to keep the human and the Wookie away, and then –

It won't come to that, she thought. I'll make it, I'll -

Blaster fire scorched the air, much closer this time. She jerked the controls hard to port –

Not fast enough. Two swoops screamed overhead while two more flanked her, the riders shrieking obscenities. Rey ignored them and dropped altitude, keeping as low to the earth as she could without flooding her engine with sand, and used the wreckage for cover.

Two miles, two miles -

It might as well have been a thousand. Electro-mag drag-chains shot out from the two lead swoops, too fast for her to avoid, and latched onto her speeder, jerking her abruptly to a halt and almost sending her flying over the console.

She was trapped.

Rey cast about wildly, eyes and hands scanning the inside of the speeder as the raiders approached, already sizing her up for the auction block.Nothing. She'd abandoned her staff when she'd ditched her old speeder. She still wore the utility belt, but it didn't have much in the way of defense. The chainfall was too heavy, and she didn't know what the speeder - Wait

Rey's breath caught as something jabbed against her foot. Thinking fast, she threw up her hand to shield her actions, and snatched up the vibroblade hidden under the seat. Just in time.

"Hands in the air!" roared the closest raider. "Power down, now!"

Rey slipped the weapon into her vest, beneath her tunic, clasped her hands behind her head, and tried to keep her breathing under control.

Not dead yet…

######

Cerebos set his gunship down on one of the larger pieces of debris towards the end of the Road, smiling as he took in the surrounding carnage. His raiders had overwhelmed the Clan, fired up by Chas' death, the promise of loot, and a newly open spot at their Lord's side.

The raider chuckled as he climbed out of the cockpit, eyes fixed on the blood-spattered figure kneeling at his new Lieutenant's feet.

"Can it stand?" Cerebos asked, stripping off his gloves and tossing them carelessly to the side. The Twi'lek smirked nastily and wrenched the prisoner's head back, dislodging the head wrap in the process.

The Chiss choked as his neck bent painfully, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He glared, red eyes flashing, defiant even through the pain racking his body – his normally dark blue skin was almost impossible to discern under the blackening bruises and dried blood.

"I can stand," he hissed, and jerked out of his captor's hands. He dragged himself to his feet, swaying alarmingly, the red glow in his eyes flickering.

Cerebos' smile split his face.

Chiss. So many tells. The eyes give them away…

He stood silently for a long moment, savoring the victory.

"You violated the treaty," the Clan warrior hissed. Cerebos laughed.

"Treaty?" He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you people…Put him with the others," he said, glancing at the new Lieutenant. "Cuff him to the rail."

The Chiss went quietly, his eyes flickering from face to face, cataloging everything around him. Shouts rang out as Cerebos' men quickly recognized him as Chas' killer.

"Leave him for me," Cerebos barked as two enraged Devorians cocked their blasters. He murmured to a nearby raider to keep a close eye on…Thegas? Thror? All Chiss names sound the same to me…

It was, all in all, a good day. The Army had spilled blood once again, had broken the back of an old enemy. Cerebos fell into step beside Rathor, his new Lieutenant, and took stock of the situation, listening intently to the Twi'lek's crisp report.

The survivors had fallen back to the Ravager, smashing several of their vehicles into the Cyclops in a last-ditch attempt to keep him at bay long enough for them to retreat. By Rathor's estimation, fifteen warriors remained. They'd also managed to hold onto the stash of weapons in the cargo hauler they'd captured from the offworlders they'd been chasing when the fighting began.

He smirked. It wouldn't help them for long. Even now, raid parties were scaling the side of the ship, ripping holes in the bulkhead with plasma torches and moving from room to room, dragging out the occupants to kill or keep. Desperate screams filled the air, punctuated by the occasional burst of blaster fire as his Army subdued the last holdouts.

Lots of younglings, he thought, as Minnie herded the first group of prisoners onto a large flatbed barge. Children were easy to sell on Jakku, especially ones just out of infancy. At that age, most species had few bad habits to weed out, and could be shaped into whatever form their owner desired. Cerebos usually sold the littler ones in groups, with at least one adult female to keep them in line – and to sweeten the deal, if the buyer fancied such things.

Speaking of which…

Two of his swoop riders were peeling a layer of tough leather off of a struggling female. One locked her arms behind her back, deftly dodging her attempt to bite, while the other took a vibroblade to the fasteners of her vest, cursing as it sparked against metal embedded in the leather. Cerebus frowned.

Armor?

"Hold," he said, watching the female closely. "Bring her to me."

The two raiders grasped the female's arms and shoved her forward. She went without resisting, her eyes sharp and wary, standing straight and tall despite the blade at her throat. The Zabrak snarled and pushed her to her knees.

"Sir," he said. "This one was trying to escape. I don't think she's Clan, but – "

"I'm not," she snapped. "I was just passing through, I – "

"Shut it," hissed the Zabrak's partner, kicking her in the ribs. She gasped and fell facedown onto the burning metal.

"If you're not Clan, then what are you, hmm?" Cerebos nodded at his men, who hauled her to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her until she gasped with pain. He stepped forward and yanked her head back by the hair, pulling roughly on one of the three buns that kept it in place.

"I work for Unkar!" she cried. "One of his best! He'll – "

"Will he pay for you?" Cerebos asked. Probably not much, he thought. Scavengers are a credit a dozen… He looked closer, his fingers twining in her hair.

…Which was surprisingly thick and soft. The color went well with her lightly tanned skin, and while the style was a tad harsh for his taste, it certainly showed off her delicate features, and highlighted the fine bones of her face. Strong, he thought, his blood stirring as that lovely face twisted with anger. And the eyes… He hadn't seen that particular shade of green before. In the waning sunlight, they were almost luminous…

Cerebos leaned in closer, smiling as she sucked in a harsh, panicked breath. She smelled of earth and metal, with the light tinge of engine oil.

"Have you had a man before?" he murmured in her ear. She stiffened, her breath stuttering as the color drained from her face. The two raiders holding her whooped, twisting her arms until she cried out with pain and jerked against their grip, stumbling closer to Cerebos in the process. They pulled off the remains of her leather duster and threw it over the side, leaving her standing in her tunic, leggings, and that tightly laced leather vest. Cerebos snaked his arm around her middle and pulled her to him, humming with approval at her trim figure. A little extra food, and she'll fill out nicely, he thought, tracing the slight curve of her hip. But for now…

"Status report?" he yelled in Rathor's general direction.

"Nearly there sir," the Lieutenant said, grinning broadly. "We've captured six warriors and killed twelve. The advance guard shows that there is one band left, covering a residential block a few decks down."

"Excellent," said Cerebos. "You two," he barked at the two raiders before him. "Take this to my ship. Show her the 'fresher, make sure she gets cleaned up." He handed off the girl to the Zabrak and reloaded his rifle.

"Let's finish this," he growled. Rathor whooped and waved three warriors over to flank their leader. Cerebos led the way through the hole in the bulkhead.

Battle, blood, and, later, a girl, he thought, as he mowed down the first wave of defenders.

It was a good day.

######

Whoever fixed this is a dumbass, Rey thought dully, staring at the shoddy welding and strange piping at the base of the shower cubicle. The two grunts had locked her in a 'fresher near Cerebos' quarters on the Cyclops. Said quarters were located in the top deck close to the bridge, but far from the exterior bulkhead, which meant that it was completely sealed off. Security, she guessed. Which mean that there were no windows to break. The walls were thick, the seams welded shut. No exposed wiring or heater coils to destroy. And from the distant thrum in the metal, she was too far from the engine room to make a break for it, and potentially hijack the ship from there.

She shuddered and gripped the edge of the sink, trying to wrestle down the visceral terror welling up inside her, hand-in-hand with the memory she thought she'd put away long ago.

- Blood and grit filling her mouth, choking off her scream –- huge hands pulling at her clothing –- too much skin -

I'm not a child anymore. I'm not, I -

Rey straightened and glared at her reflection in the warped, dirty mirror. She could barely make out her features through the grime, despite the harsh, sterile overhead light.

Rey jumped as one of her guards pounded on the door.

"Either you clean yourself or we do it for you!"

"Give me a minute!" she yelled back, putting a little tremble into her voice. "Please…" Her fingers closed around the vibroblade she'd hidden in her tunic.

"Make sure to wash everywhere!" the guard jeered.

She didn't bother to respond. Instead, she turned on the shower, and used the rattle of the poorly –- disgracefully, actually - retrofitted sonic setting to cover the whirr of the vibroblade on metal and leather as she sliced up her vest, digging out the steel plates lining the inside, and the sharp hooks keeping it closed. She ground the hooks into cut leather strips, which she wrapped around her hands, and rigged up a makeshift sheath, strapping it inside of her tunic so she could get at the blade quickly. She embedded the rest of the metal shards into the heel and toes her boots, the sharp tips just barely visible. Anything that she kicked would get an extremely nasty surprise.

But she had to buy more time, to at least look like she was complying.

Rey squinted into the mirror and let her hair down. She opened her tunic and stepped halfway into the shower, shutting her eyes against the pressure waves as it ground the dirt out of her hair and off her exposed skin, leaving it tingling and pink. She left it on for a few minutes more after she got out, arranging her clothing and makeshift weapons carefully, taking slow, deep breaths, grasping at the pressure building up inside.

Work for me, damn you, she thought. There's only two of them. I'm what, three compartments away from the bridge? She froze.

The bridge...

Rey smiled slowly. The panic and pressure sharpened, her veins flooding with fresh fire. She moved her hand to her tunic, gripping the hilt of the hidden blade.

Time to go.

######

The guards opened the door as soon as she shut off the sonic, huffing in disappointment when they realized that she was fully clothed.

"I'm done," she whispered, pulling her arms in close to her sides, keeping her eyes on the ground. It was only partially an act – in close quarters, without the leather vest, she felt almost naked under their gaze.

"Come on," the human raider grunted, and hustled her down the corridor, his partner spewing obscene advice in three different languages.

Rey tuned out the words and silently counted doors as she stumbled along, focusing her awareness on of the rough grip on her arm, the heavy footfalls of the Zabrak leading the way.

Finally, they rounded a corner. Cerebos' quarters on the left, the bridge on the right. Rey stumbled, jerking her captor forward –

- Just far enough for her to drive her heel into his crotch.

The human screamed and shoved her away as the tiny metal shards cut through leather. Rey sprang forward, using the extra momentum to take down the Zabrak ahead of her, vibroblade in hand, smashing his knee with her boot just as she drove the blade into his back. She was up again in a flash, wincing as dark blood gushed over her fingers when she pulled the blade out.

The bridge was unlocked, the engine running. And kriffing Force the coolant gauge was in the red. Rey pulled up the status screen with shaking fingers.

Those idiots, she thought. In an attempt to marry a TIE control interface with a Hutt barge (among other things), whoever had built the Cyclops had linked the fuel system to the coolant pumps, separating the coolant and fuel with only a slender polymer shield. The only logical reason to do that was if the fuel system had a serious overheating problem, and needed to bleed off everything they could before it hit the engine.

And the coolant pumps were practically sucking air.

Rey laughed aloud and locked the bridge door, ignoring the spreading pool of blood.

The bastards had it coming.

#

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More notes:

1. Rey is basically Space MacGyver. It's canon! #ibypassedthecompressor

2. I handwave the raiders not searching her very closely after they took her armor on her nascent mind-meld abilities and on the grunts not wanting to piss off their boss...Plus they are seriously underestimating her. Let's see how that works out for them!