Chapter Ten
The young flaxen-haired boy didn't seem like much to Wes when he first saw him and he wondered what could have compelled Hobbie to take him under his wing. However, the boy's gaze was sharp and attentive and Wes made a note not to underestimate him.
"My name is Helvin Mareen, Sirs. I assume you are the pilots of the New Republic?"
Wedge stepped forward, extending a hand. Fully in Commander-Mode, he replied: "That's right. General Wedge Antilles, Colonel Tycho Celchu, Major Wes Janson."
The boy shook Wedge's hand and looked at them seriously. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"So what happened?" Wes asked, impatient and eager to get to the matter at hand. "How did you meet Hobbie?" Seeing the boy's look, he quickly amended: "Major Klivian. It's a nickname."
Catching on quickly, Helvin said. "Well, he introduced himself to me after he had got in trouble with the hangar master, Avriel. The hangar master wanted to know where he was headed, but Major Klivian told him in no uncertain words that he wasn't to know."
"Why does Avriel want to know a ship's destination?" Tycho asked and looked at the boy with attentive bright blue eyes, one of those looks of his that made you think he was looking right through you.
Helvin bit his lip. "He sells the data, Sir. To whomever he thinks might be interested in it. In the case of Major Klivian he probably would have sold it to the Imperial Cells."
At that, Wes perked up. "Imperial Cells you say?" he asked sharply. The boy nodded.
"Yes," he replied plainly. "And it's probably them who have taken Major Klivian. He did follow a certain Moff Tarl Morth who he first saw here at the spaceport. Major Klivian asked me for his address."
"And you gave it to him?"
Helvin shrugged, his light eyes curious. "I did. He was honorable and friendly. He told me he would help me- said I reminded him of a boy he once knew."
Wes, Wedge and Tycho exchanged glances- they all had a hunch who Hobbie might have been thinking of.
"Plus, he cared," Helvin went on seriously. "Not many people have done so ever since my parents died." A look of determination crossed his young face. "So I wish to help you rescue Major Klivian. And I guess you first need to talk to Avriel, for he is the one who can help you the most. If you wish, I will take you to him."
Tycho nodded, approval in his eyes, which, Wes knew was a huge compliment as Tycho did not approve easily of anyone. "Please, do so."
As Helvin led them past the rows of spacepads, Wes mentally congratulated Hobbie on his choice to help this boy- Hobbie had always had a feeling when it came to those who had been unfairly treated by life and who he could extend a helping hand to. Not many knew that side of him- he always kept everything hidden underneath his pessimism and dourness, but Wes knew that Hobbie was a man with many sides and he thought himself lucky that he could call him friend.
Unbidden, the boy's words sprang to his mind "…said I reminded him of a boy he once knew". Wes wondered what had compelled Hobbie to say that- he knew very little about his best friend's childhood, but Hobbie would never divulge much, no matter how much Wes prodded or no matter how drunken Hobbie was.
"You got some explaining to do, Hobbie," he mumbled to himself, trailing after the other three.
"And you are not getting off that easy this time." A frown crossed his face. "Please be alright," he said very quietly, so quietly that he himself didn't even hear it.
Hobbie awoke to a world so hazy that he wasn't sure whether he was conscious or not. The blood roared in his ears and as he moved his tongue sluggishly he could taste dried blood. A water bottle was pushed between his lips in a gentle manner and he drank slowly, seeing that his jaw muscles seemed to have been clamped together and then nearly choked on his drink. Sluggishly he dragged his eyes open to see the dark form of Janne hovering over him. He could only stare mutely as his mouth was too dried up for him to be able to form words. Thoughts were fleeting and inconsistent and he felt how logic and reality started to slide out of his grasp.
Someone took his shoulders and moved him from his half-lying position to sitting propped up against the wall. He stared, uncomprehendingly, into Janne's concerned face.
"Ja-n-ne," he tried painfully.
A cool cloth was put on his forehead and water ran down the sides of his face, ran into his half-opened mouth and again he spluttered. The pain was a constant throb and it was all he could think about. It pounded and festered in him until it started to consume his entire being. Janne swore softly. His voice was faint and Hobbie heard it as if he was talking to him from far away.
He watched mutely how his former best friend got up and started to pace up and down, soon out of his field of vision and in it again. He tried to turn his head in order to get a better look, but as soon as he did so a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head and he whimpered slightly. Janne had stopped in front of him, crouched down and came face-to-face with him before starting to speak. His dark eyes were intense, nearly hypnotizing and since Hobbie couldn't turn his head they were also the only thing he could see.
"We had dreams, didn't we Hobbie? Always dreaming higher, bigger, greater. We had dreams of changing the universe or of flying so fast that we would be quicker than life. We never thought about getting old- in a way we were immortal, weren't we?" Janne paused and Hobbie heard his voice trip oddly over the words before he went on. "Life doesn't work that way though. Kriff, how I wish we could be young and immortal again, lying on that meadow, watching the clouds."
The longer Janne was speaking, the more Hobbie found that his surroundings were getting a little clearer. He felt not as close to unconsciousness anymore.
Janne balled his fists. "But we can't. And you are the enemy and I have to ask you no matter if I want to or not." He came close to Hobbie's face and screamed: "So what are the names of the Ralltiirian NRI intelligence cells, Major Klivian?"
Hobbie cleared his throat and spat blood. Then, albeit weakly, he raised his chin defiantly and croaked: "I kriffin' don' know, Janne. 'S th' only answer you'll ever get from me."
Janne put his head in his hands. "I don't want to fetch Ambor again, Hobbie…" he murmured and his voice caught and cracked. "I am sick of this," he hissed quietly.
"Then don't," Hobbie slurred. "Won't tell you anythin' even if I knew somethin' anyway…"
Now anger twisted Janne's dark, but clean-cut features. "Whatever you want, Hobbie." He pressed a blaster to Hobbie's head. The cold metal dug into his temple painfully, but Hobbie raised his eyes to meet Janne's nevertheless. "Well, then. Do it."
But Janne's determination seemed to waver. His eyes were bright as he lowered the blaster. "I could never do it, Hobbie. You were like my brother. I have killed many over the course of the years, but I could never kill you."
Hobbie who sensed an opening, made a grab for Janne's arm with a strength that surprised even him. "You are on the wrong side, Janne, why can't you see that? Help me and I will help you."
Janne shook his head sorrowfully. "I can't."
He opened his mouth to say more but before he had got a word out, the door suddenly flew open and several things happened at once. Hobbie, bruised eyes blinded by the sudden onslaught of light reflexively screwed his eyes shut and lost his hold on the wall, subsequently sliding down to lie on the ground, while loud hurried footsteps approached from the outside. Then there was a flash of red light and Janne fell to the ground with a dazed expression, right next to Hobbie, a smoking blaster hole in his chest.
"Ngh-Ho-Hob- Hobbie-"he choked. Bright red blood bubbled over his lips.
"Janne," Hobbie whispered through his rapidly tunneling vision.
Janne turned his head to look at him from his position on the floor. He was panting greatly, breaths coming in harsh little gasps. More blood flowed over his lips. "The Moff- Hobbie- the Moff-" he rolled over to where Hobbie was lying. "He-plans- Sleeper agents- genetically-altered groups of humans- incarcerated – experiments- weapons for Empire-"
Again, Janne choked and stopped speaking for a while. Hobbie could see no sign of the ones he hoped were his rescuers. All that was in his vision were Janne's pained dark eyes. More blood ran out of his friend's mouth, dribbled steadily down his chin and formed a small puddle on the ground. Janne gulped in a mouthful of air.
"Tell Rhana and Maryis that I love them," he whispered. "And tell them that I am very sorry."
Hobbie felt how awareness slid out of his grasp, though he desperately tried to hold on, but pain and fatigue were overwhelming him, dulling his senses and blackening his vision.
Janne raised himself up on his elbows and painfully whispered close to Hobbie's ear. "You are my best friend, Hobbie. You always were." He fell back, his energy spent- a last harsh breath and more bright blood staining his lips and then his body went limp, his broken eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Hobbie watched in detachment. Janne is dead….was all he could think. Janne is dead….
"Hobbie!" Then, new voices in the room he was in.
"Hobbie!"
But he couldn't reply. The light was fading, ever fading and fading-
-until it vanished completely, leaving him in blackness- and then-
-absolute-
Nothingness…
