Jett winced as he landed hard on the slightly damp ground, glaring up at the grating of his new cell as the troopers above swung the gate shut. None of them seemed to notice his baleful look, or if they did, they were doing a remarkable job of not caring. It was times like these that Jett wished his own sense of diplomacy was lower, and his ability to come up with a sharp remark was more on Laniff's level. It might not be the wisest action, but it would certainly feel better than suffering in silence. Yet, as always, his tact got the better of him and he remained silent. He didn't need a stun bolt inserted into his day.
A faint movement in the dark caught Jett's attention and he squinted into the shadows, hoping for a glimpse of something , anything, as the troopers moved away. Stars only knew what kind of criminals the troopers would be happy to throw him in with. Especially when they were on lockdown and trying to consolidate their prisoners into as few cells as possible. The fewer soldiers they had to place on guard duty, the more they could throw at the invading Mandalorians. Jett sincerely hoped they ran out of room quickly.
He kept one hand against the slick walls of the new cell, squinting into the darkness to try to confirm the movement he thought he had glimpsed earlier. Pity the troopers hadn't been feeling generous enough to leave a light of some sort.
A hand landed on his shoulder out of the darkness and Jett spun, swinging his fist instinctively. He heard a startled curse as his visitor scrambled back out of range of the blow. Jett's fist barely brushed fabric, followed swiftly by his arm being seized and twisted backwards, before being quickly released – an instinctive reaction, then.
"For stars' sake you idiot, quit trying to kill me," a voice came out of the darkness and Jett frowned, recognition prodding his mind. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he was able to make out a slim figure, green skinned with black geometric tattoos across her cheeks and chin. The Mirialan was rocked back on her heels, hands held up slightly in what could either be an appeal or a defensive position, Jett wasn't sure which. He didn't know if she was, either.
"Zarah," he said finally, grasping the name like a lifeline. "Next time don't sneak up on me like that."
"Not my fault you're jumping at shadows," Zarah replied, offering a grin to soften the words. "If you're here, that means Kadira is somewhere close by too, meaning Vhetin brought in some outside help on a rescue. So is this some ingenious part of the escape plan that I have yet to grasp?" she inquired, gesturing to him hopefully as she dropped back into a more casual pose.
A soft laugh from the dark alerted Jett to another presence and he turned, brows raised.
"That would be Jay," Zarah explained. "Don't try to punch her, please. She'd probably punch back, and then we'd have to wait for you to regain consciousness to answer my question."
Jett felt a smile pull at his mouth, but shook his head in response to the earlier question. "Not a brilliant plan," he admitted. "Just a stupid mistake."
Zarah sighed. "Is Kad at least still out there or did she manage to get herself shot again? Or did Laniff blow everyone one up and we're stuck here forever and ever?"
"Aren't you optimistic?" Jett observed dryly, rubbing the back of his neck with one gloved hand and peering up at the grated gate that stood between them and freedom. That and about twenty feet, of course. "No, Kad didn't get shot, she's working on a rescue. And Laniff's not here, so no explosions..."
Zarah snorted. "I'm sorry, do you even know Kadira? That girl prefers to create a window rather than use a perfectly good door. There will be explosions. Count on it."
"So long as she gets us out of here she can stage a parade for all I care," Jett replied.
"They'll have an easier job getting in with the sabotage we accomplished," Jay spoke up. "You may have run into it before."
Jett nodded. "We did. Nice work, by the way. You lot really did a number on them, helped us out a lot."
"We were rather proud of it ourselves," Zarah answered with a grin. "Just wait until the Imps try to get into the armory. Hopefully our team doesn't try to drop in there first…"
"They won't," Jay sounded certain, though Jett couldn't see the woman well enough in the dark to be able to read her body language. "They won't risk getting boxed in."
"So let's see if there's anything we can do to lighten their load in the meantime. It looked like Thalia had taken a solid injury when the team pulled her out – how are you two?" Jett inquired.
"Zarah's sporting a rather nasty concussion, and I took a blaster bolt to the shoulder," Jay's voice came out of the darkness once more and Jett let out a breath of air. "Both are stable, but not exactly encouraging trying to climb out of this hole again."
"Well, that rules out the most obvious solution then," Jett observed, looking up at the grate.
"Not to mention the guard they've posted," Zarah added helpfully.
Jett sighed. There was always something.
Kadira winced as she twisted around, trying to get a better view of the dark bruising that spread across her back, most of it centered around the fresh scars from Coruscant.
"That looks painful," Thalia observed, glancing up from the inspection she was performing on her own gear. The woman wore a small headset that wrapped around her forehead, creating a makeshift HUD for when her helmet was removed. It seemed to work slower than her usual systems, causing a slight delay when she would wait for a visual translation. As they had learned, Kadira's facial scars and forced whispery quality of her voice made it more difficult for Thalia to read her lips when she spoke, forcing the woman to use the tech instead.
Kadira grimaced, rolling her shoulder gingerly. Her back twinged with the motion and she froze, before slowly resuming the motion, this time without incident. Her muscles were more fickle than they used to be, a fact she was still trying to come to terms with. That and knowing how far her limits were after the injuries.
"That would be a fair assessment," Kadira agreed finally, a wry smile twisting her mouth as another bout of pain sliced through her shoulder. She continued stretching the muscle, ignoring her body's protestations as much as she could.
"Black said you suffered a pretty massive injury a little while back," Thalia continued, the question evident in her tone.
"Verpine sniper rifle back on Coruscant. Just confirmed my complete and utter loathing of visiting core worlds," Kadira confirmed, moving to don her own gear. "Most of the injury itself has healed, but some of it is just adjusting to the limits."
Thalia hesitated a moment, glancing up at the HUD in front of her eyes to read the translation before she responded.
"Hence the shoulder pads," she observed, nodding to the leather pads Kadira wore in place of metal ones.
"Lighter than beskar," Kadira explained. "My shoulder can't support the weight now, so some improvisation was required."
Thalia considered that for a moment before she nodded in response, grabbing the rest of her kit and shouldering her rifle.
"I'll check and see if Black and Vhetin are ready," she offered, already crossing to the door.
Kadira nodded by way of reply, waiting until the other woman had left the room to sink down slowly onto the bench, her movements far more stiff and pained than they had been when Thalia was present.
Kadira leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment.
"Osik," she muttered. Her whole body ached, mostly centered around the wound she had sustained on Coruscant and the damage to her spine. So far it was only getting worse, no doubt due to the amount of strain Kadira was placing on it, all without proper rest or a chance to allow her muscles to recover.
Six months ago she would have simply been fighting fatigue and the pressure of such a huge mission, now she was in conflict with her own body as well. And there was nothing to be done for it but to move forward. She was going to have to hold up until this mission was over, and she was going to have to continue to work through the ever increasing pain. She had no doubt he body would be punishing her for the neglect once all of this was over, but for now there was nothing more she could do.
And if I can't? If I can't get through the rest of this, what then? she wondered. Kadira opened her eyes, staring up at the cracked ceiling as if it held the answer. She had a contingencey to get them off-planet. Kadira had placed the comm call only a few hours before. It was a risk, but one they had to take. Otherwise this whole rescue would be in vain.
"Pull through for me, buir," Kadira murmured. "I need you at my back now. Please pull through."
Iam Sal had never let Kadira down before, but the stakes had never been quite so high in the past. If the timing wasn't just right, if Iam wasn't able to reach them then Kadira's entire team would pay the price. She had no doubt that this was their last play, no matter what. If it went poorly, the Empire wouldn't risk trying to hold so many Mandalorians in a prison they would have already broken into twice. It would be a kill order, and while Kadira had every confidence in her team, there was no way they could take on the entirety of the force the Empire could call to arms against them. It would be a slaughter, and there would be nothing Kadira could do to stop it.
Kadira scowled. She hated being backed into a corner, more than anything else.
"We're not going to fail, vode," she murmured. "Not this round."
Jayce stayed curled in the corner of Laniff's makeshift apartment, watching the Mandalorian with wide eyes as he thrashed about on the bed, struggling against the makeshift ties Jayce had strapped around the armored man's wrists when he had thrown himself off of the cot, the action following by a sharp cry of pain. Jayce still had no idea how bad the man's injuries truly were, though he knew enough to tell that the consensus couldn't be good. Laniff was still struggling to breathe, his gasps echoing in the makeshift safehouse as Jayce sat by helplessly. Jayce had tried every trick he knew of from the streets, and yet Laniff hadn't fully regained consciousness for any period of time.
Jayce was paralyzed, not knowing what to do or how to help the man. No doctor would come, not at Jayce's summons. Besides, Laniff didn't have a penny to his name that Jayce knew of or could access, and any doctor would know that the armored man had been targeted by Death Watch. They wouldn't risk crossing the group. Even Jayce's own gang had disappeared into the shadows, meaning the boy would get no aid there.
He needed a plan, but thus far he'd come up with nothing. He couldn't steal the kind of supplies Laniff needed or else he'd have done so. If there was one thing Jayce was talented at, it was thievery. But medical supplies were valuable, and Jayce didn't have the means to go after a target that would be heavily guarded.
Jayce looked around the room, his gaze landing not for the first time on the bloodied red and gold helmet Laniff had donned before the beating. Now it was covered in the blonde man's blood, turned into a weapon instead of a protection.
A frown creased Jayce's face as he pondered the helmet. Laniff had mentioned once in passing that it was more than just protection, it was a symbol. A sign of unity amongst his culture, something recognizable in a people who had no real uniform or single race. That T-Visor, distinctive across the galaxy, was more than just a helmet. It served as an identification for an entire culture of warriors who, though often not related by blood, were still family.
Jayce went completely still for a moment, letting out a slow breath as something prodded his memory. He hesitated a moment before he scrambled forward, thoughts suddenly sent racing by the memory. The helmet might hold his solution. Jayce couldn't steal the medical supplies Laniff needed, but maybe, just maybe, someone else could. Laniff had talked about other people, people he had said were something called 'vode'. Jayce knew the name of one, and he hoped that would be enough. Kad. Laniff's smuggler friend. Maybe she could find a way to help the fire armored man.
Jayce grabbed the helmet and staggered to his feet, rushing over to one of the nearby tables and swiping one small arm across it to clear room for the helmet. Tools and scraps of metal went skittering across the floor but Jayce paid them no mind as he began searching through the rest of the objects scattered across the table, brow furrowed in concentration. He knew he wouldn't be able to use the helmet like Laniff could – no doubt there were security measures in place. But apart from thieving, Jayce had learned a thing or two about electronics during his time on the streets, none of it legal. Given enough time, he had no doubt he could spike into the helmet and access the communications systems. This type of equipment was probably protected more against remote access than it was a direct connection, meaning Jayce had more of a chance to crack it.
"C'mon, c'mon," Jayce muttered, searching through the piles of tools and equipment for the parts he was looking for. He let out a noise of frustration when all he could find was equipment that was probably much better suited to the job than what he was looking for, but he had no idea how to use. Jayce glanced back at Laniff's still form, chewing his lip in thought as he debated. He could stay here with Laniff and hope the fire armored man recovered, or he could take a different risk and leave the man here while he went out to try to get the parts he needed to hack the helmet.
Laniff took that moment to thrash violently against the restraints holding him, mumbling in what Jayce could only hope was a different language. It sounded similar to some of the words that had slipped into Laniff's vocabulary when he had been conscious, before the fight that had put him in such bad shape.
Jayce grimaced, before nodding to himself. He'd have to work fast, but he could steal the parts he needed. It wouldn't be safe or clean, but Laniff needed help, and he needed it fast. Jayce scampered back to the corner and grabbed the small knapsack that held his array of tools, ducking out of the apartment and sealing it behind him. With luck, he'd be back with the parts in an hour, two at most. He just hoped Laniff could hold out for that length of time.
Kadira grabbed her rifle from its place by the door, glancing up at the wraparound view to her HUD and taking in the others as they finished their own preparations. The team had come together nicely, with none of the strain present when Stazia had been a part of preparations. The mission was more desperate this time, with an even slimmer chance of success, but the team seemed calmer than before. The only noticeable difference was the amount of weaponry each person had opted to bring, bringing a slight smile to Kadira's face.
Black was packing enough weapons to take out an entire army by himself, strapping on even more as Kadira watched. How he was managing to carry it all, she could only guess. His soldiering days had left him with the strength to carry his own personal arsenal. She could only hope he didn't get hit by a stray blaster bolt – both for his safety and that of anyone standing near him. Kadira almost expected his weaponry would serve as a massive bomb if anything were to strike him. Incentive for the enemy to miss, she supposed.
Vhetin was armed with his usual array of weapons, more subtle than Black's and allowing him a greater range of motion, but still not someone she would want to end up on the wrong side of. He was a walking armory of his own style – including the peculiar lightsaber pike that hung from his belt. Kadira had only seen him use it in combat once, and briefly, but if their training session had been any indication of his skill then she had no doubt the man could use such a dangerous weapon with both incredible speed and accuracy. He was even quieter than usual, the only outward sign of the strain she had no doubt he was feeling. His partner was still trapped inside the facility, and the odds of success were just as obvious to him as they were to her.
Kadira's attention shifted to Thalia, who was finishing up her own preparations. The deaf woman had opted for a much lighter weapon set, consisting mostly of pistols and small blades scattered about her person to give her a weapon no matter what position she was in. Kadira had also seen her load a number of darts into the modified gauntlets she wore. When all was said and done, she bore the lightest load in terms of weapons and ammunition, relying on lightweight, old fashioned weapons that weren't in danger of malfunctioning. Kadira had no doubt there was a story behind such a particular style of fighting, but was one that would have to wait for another time.
In all, it was a team that Kadira wouldn't want to cross. The odds were stacked heavily against them, but the team was strong enough and skilled enough that Kadira was easily able to set aside any doubts that managed to make their way to the surface. Bad odds were something nearly all of them had faced in the past, with perhaps the exception of Thalia, who was still fairly new to the lifestyle.
"Vhetin," Kadira opened up a private comm channel in her helmet to talk to the Bounty Hunter. "Any thoughts on Thalia?"
::She's a bit green,:: Vhetin answered immediately, confirming Kadira's own assessment. ::Normally I'd prefer someone with more experience under their belt, but we don't have the option. She takes longer to make a decision than a veteran, but with this team watching her back, I think we'll pull through.::
"Think she can take on a task by herself, if that comes at us?" Kadira asked.
::She adapts quickly,:: Vhetin responded. ::I think she'll be able to handle it.::
"Thanks for the assessment, vod," Kadira said by way of response. "I appreciate it."
::Anytime.::
Kadira glanced over the team once more, running through the plan in her mind as she did so. The team was going to need to work fast, but judging from the array of weapons and specialties that this team sported, she had a feeling they'd be able to tackle whatever surprised the Imps had waiting for them. Speed was going to be their biggest advantage, and she'd have to be careful to be sure they maintained it. This was a good team, but Kadira knew if she made the wrong call it wouldn't matter how skilled the team was. Four against an entire prison full of soldiers weren't great odds to start with. If things went sideways, their chances of survival were nonexistent.
Kadira let out a slow breath before switching on her comm channel, noticing the reactions of the team as she did so. Heads came up, their attention turned her way.
"Oya, vode," she called out the traditional words with a daredevil grin she knew they'd hear in her voice, slapping the magazine into her rifle with an audible snap. They were the same words she'd spoken at the beginning of the last rescue attempt. She could only hope they heralded a more successful outcome this time.
::Oya!:: came the unified answer, sharp and strong with the defiance of a team that knew the odds and was determined to succeed anyway.
Kadira felt her grin spread. If anyone could pull off odds like the ones stacked against them, it was this group.
The boy who had been dogging Dreysel's steps for the past few days ducked out of Dreysel's makeshift headquarters, sealing it behind him with a care that informed Mog that Dreysel still clung to life inside the small space.
Mog stared down the sights of his rife, smiling slightly as the boy darted out into the crowds on the streets, weaving his way expertly through the throng of people. Shaen followed him without difficulty, keeping the boy's head firmly in the crosshairs as he watched. The boy was proving to be more resilient that Mog had thought he'd be. Not only had he dragged Laniff back to the Mandalorian's makeshift base, but Shaen had yet to see any sign that Dreysel had expired, meaning the kid was somehow keeping him alive. How, Shaen had no idea. Without proper medical aid, Laniff should be dead, or at the very least on the brink of it.
In truth, Shaen had expected the boy to disappear after watching Laniff's less than glorious downfall. The boy's hero-worship had been obvious from the start, and Shaen had been careful to do everything he could to shatter that image. It was about more than just Dreysel and the match between the two of them. Dreysel's grudge was personal, born of a hunt that had consumed his entire life, whether actively or stewing in the background. But Shaen's retaliation had been more than just a personal vendetta – Death Watch had an iron grip on the planet, maintained through fear. The boy's worship of Laniff had threatened that, and so Shaen needed to destroy it. He had seen the boy's shattered look, the way the fight had been stolen from him as his hero fell. Shaen had thought that would be the end of it, that the boy would see the weakness the Mandalorians had created and would turn to Death Watch, or at least return to the life he'd led before.
And yet here he was, clearly on some sort of mission, no doubt for the sake of the Mandalorian he had so painstakingly dragged back to the hideout. That in itself had been a surprise. Granted, the boy had been too focused on his rescue to consider the fact he might have been watched, making it even simpler for Shaen to follow the boy's movements, but he had accomplished his goal with admirable tenacity. He would have been a good recruit for Death Watch, if the group had found him before Dreysel had stumbled across the boy. Still, one recruit lost on a planet like this didn't make too much of a difference. The boy had the tenacity and ingenuity to make a valuable member, but his dedication to the Mandalorian was a mark against him. There was steel in him, but not the kind Death Watch needed.
Shaen's finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger, temptation whispering to him to complete the action as the boy continued weaving through the crowd, knapsack clutched tightly to his side. Dreysel had brought the boy into this fight, making him a fair target in Mog's mind. Killing the boy would complete Shaen's earlier goal that much faster, forcing Dreysel to fend for himself and no doubt causing the man to finally expire without the boy to care for him and hold him back from the brink of death. Even if Laniff did miraculously recover from his injuries, Mog knew enough about the man to know that the boy's death would destroy Dreysel. One more young life on the blonde man's conscience would be enough to tip the balance, especially since Dreysel would know that the boy had become a target because of his proximity to the Mandalorian.
Still, Shaen's finger didn't tighten further on the trigger. His more logical side, the side that urged patience and careful planning, cautioned him to stay his hand. Killing the boy would have been Coorta's solution. Quick and devastating, but perhaps not as useful in the long term. Shaen had to be much further sighted about his plans. There were too many variables, too much at stake for split second decisions.
Without the boy, the chances Sal would hear about Dreysel's injuries were far lower. Besides, the boy had yet to prove anything but usefulness. He might work to the same advantage in the future. If Shaen could use the boy to lead Dreysel into a trap, he had no doubt that Sal could be led into the exact same trap. And it was long since time that the Sals were out of the picture. They had been a nuisance for far too long, standing in the way of Shaen's own goals.
Shaen let out a disappointed breath at the conclusion his logic had brought him to. Reluctantly, he eased his finger off the trigger, allowing the tension to ease out of it. The boy was too useful to eliminate, at least for now. So long as that was the case, Shaen would have to watch and wait.
Kadira tried desperately to slow her erratic breathing, grateful none of the others had commented when she'd suddenly shut down her comm systems, preventing them from hearing her strangled gasps for air. The walls of the crawlspace were even tighter than she'd imagined, leaving her desperate for an exit. She could practically taste the dampness of the air in the tunnel, though the logical side of her brain argued that was impossible. She felt like she was suffocating, despite the cool, filtered air her helmet provided.
Kadira turned the last corner, letting out an explosive breath as the square of light that signified her exit came into view. A gloved hand appeared in the bright light as she reached the end of the crawlspace, grasping her forearm and pulling her free. Kadira scrambled forward, using Black's strength to help her clear the claustrophobic area as quickly as possible. She practically fell out of the crawlspace, barely regaining her feet as she stumbled away, shaking. She was grateful when Black didn't comment on her less-than-graceful exit.
Kadira paced away, trying to ease the shakiness out of her limbs as she pointedly kept her back to the hole in the wall, though the rest of the team had yet to emerge. She had been the second to get through the crawlspace, Black going in first to be certain it was clear. Kadira had followed, knowing if she waited any longer that she might not be able to do it at all. Now there was only Vhetin and Thalia left, and Kadira was perfectly fine with not looking back at the small hole. She could monitor her team using her HUD, without having to look back at the place she had no doubt would plague her in nightmares for the next few weeks, at least. She was going to avoid the memory of the walls closing in on her for as long as she possibly could. The past few minutes were not ones she wanted to relive anytime soon.
"You holding up alright, Kad?" Black's voice came over her comm and Kadira nearly jumped. She took the time to take a slow breath, trying to eradicate the shake she knew would carry through in her voice if she answered immediately.
"Fine," she answered shortly. "But remind me to murder Jett as soon as we're done saving him."
A huff of air that she could only guess was laughter came in reply from Black. "Wait until we're outside, at least. And keep in mind, he was trying to help. It's not his fault he got boxed in."
"Then next time he should help in a facility that doesn't require me to crawl through a space meant for a shabla mouse droid," Kadira replied, some humor leaking back into her voice. She knew it was intentional on Black's part, getting her to take her mind off of the ordeal of the crawlspace, and she was grateful for it. "Or, at the very least, have the courtesy to get captured in the beginning of the mission, that way we could stage a second round of rescuing before we have to exit the whole facility."
Black's smile was evident in his reply, "You could just as easily blame Zarah and Jay, you know."
Kadira snorted in response. "No, because I know blaming Jett is illogical, but I'm irritated with him anyways and so can justify it. Jay and Zarah I hold no grudge against, meaning Jett gets the entirety of the blame while I remain annoyed."
That earned a bark of laughter from the veteran, drawing a smile to Kadira's face even as she finally forced herself to turn back towards the crawlspace to await the rest of the team.
Thalia appeared a moment later, sliding out of the crawlspace and dropping to the ground below in a much more graceful manner than Kadira had managed. She moved aside quickly, making space for Vhetin who followed soon after. Black nodded, crossing to the door that would be their entry point. He ran one gloved hand over the metal, using the sensors embedded in his glove to check for any traps or signs of tampering on the door.
::Looks like we're clear, vode,:: Black called finally, stepping back and gesturing to Vhetin.
The gray armored man stepped forward, drawing his lightsaber pike from his side as Thalia and Kadira drew their own weapons, taking up positions on either side of the door. Thalia pressed her back to the wall, pistol held at the ready as Black mirrored her position on the other side of the door. Kadira dropped easily into a kneeling position to the side, bringing her rifle up into her shoulder and settling into the position. She had a clear view in case anyone was waiting on the other side of the doorway. Vhetin looked to her for confirmation and Kadira lifted one hand in acknowledgement, waving briefly to signal the man to continue.
Vhetin activated the pike with a distinctive snap-hiss, plunging it into the metal of the door.
A/N: So at the risk of sounding like a broken record, I again apologize for the ridiculous amount of time it took me to continue this. My semester ended up being the busiest I've ever had, and I've been in recovery mode ever since. I should definitely have this story wrapped up soon, and apologize for how long it has taken me to get there. Thank you, honestly, for your patience and for sticking with the story this long - I truly appreciate it!