She didn't understand how she knew that Daven was dead, but she knew it all the same. Nyssa wanted desperately to sob, yet large tear drops only rolled silently down her cheeks. She hunched slightly in her chair and continued to stare at the fuel gauge through blurred vision.
Fourteen percent.
She had spent what precious spare moments Daven had given her calculating the length of time it took for the gauge to raise one percent. If she left now, she would reach the starboard tank intake by the time it went up to fifteen.
Nyssa had no desire to be in this hangar any longer than necessary.
With her utility belt secured to a new combat suit, she marched down the ramp with her favorite blaster rifle in tow. She made a wordless promise to herself to be more careful in climbing up the hull this time around – Daven wasn't here to catch her anymore.
She swung the rifle over her shoulder, fastening it to her back for easy access, and began her ascent. The hangar was eerily quiet without Daven there to shout warnings at her, but she tried to ignore that fact before grief overtook her and she became motionless.
"Don't think," she told herself out loud, hoping that her words would break the silence. She reached the nozzle and was pleased when it detached quite a bit more easily than it had been attached.
Nyssa threw the now useless contraption away, but flinched when the durasteel panels bounced and clanged against the permacrete floor. That had been a bad idea. Vader might still be in the base and if he heard that …
"Okay, girl," she whispered. "Don't get panicked; just get out of here." She slid slowly down the hull, carefully edging her way towards the ground. She breathed a sigh of relief when she hit the end of the hull and decided to jump the last few meters.
The distance had been slightly greater than she had guessed, however, and she was forced to land in a crouching position.
And that's when she heard it – the sharp, deadly hum of mechanical breathing.
She ducked down further and crawled away, attempting to hide her form in a mess of nearby crates. A whole slue of choice slang words from several tongues rushed into her mind, but she remained silent, almost breathless.
Nyssa could hear Vader moving from one side of the hangar to the other, perhaps inspecting the Gray Star or, more likely, looking for her. She swallowed harshly, hoping that the gesture would not generate too much noise.
"Your attempt at stealth is pointless," a voice snarled. "Come out."
Nyssa realized she was shaking in fear as sweat slowly ran down her entire body. If this Sith could kill Daven without a fight, what could he possibly do to her?
"I'm bounty hunter under contract with the Empire," she said while trying to stop her jaw from quivering. "Staver was my target; I found him here and was trying to take him down." A half-truth was better than no truth, right?
"Yet you broke him out of Imperial custody in this ship," Vader responded coldly. "That does not bode well with the Empire."
"My mistake," Nyssa replied as she moved a few more meters away from the Dark Lord's voice. "I wasn't aware of his arrest. But, since you caught him now, I think we're even. After all, I did lead you to him with that homing beacon."
"Nonsense, bounty hunter," Vader barked. "I grow tired of your games. Imperial mandate or no, you have harbored a fugitive, and are a traitor."
Such simple logic, Nyssa managed to think before a black glove reached out from behind her and latched on to her neck, pulling her forcibly away from the crate stack.
She struggled fiercely as he pulled her to him and managed to successfully bend her leg and ram her foot into his kneecap.
Flinching, he paused just long enough for her to break free from his grip and run. She sprinted towards the ship, which was less than a dozen meters away. But, before she reached the foot of the ramp, a hidden hand grabbed her and held her perfectly still, levitating her a half meter off the ground.
"Hutt spawn!" she screamed. She could still feel her arms thankfully, so she wasted no time in activating her blaster cannon. He dropped her, allowing the bounty hunter to spin around and face her attacker. Nyssa didn't hesitate to fire a round of shots directly at the Sith Lord, and was hardly surprised when he blocked them.
What was amazing was how he blocked them – Vader didn't ignite his saber like Daven always did. Instead he merely raised his hand and the blots miraculously bounced away or were absorbed.
Nyssa stood, stunned at the feat. The smoke was beginning to clear, and, without warning, Vader's immense form was upon her again. He flicked his wrist mindlessly and the blaster flew from her grip, crashing against the wall on the far side of the hangar, completely out of reach.
She desperately wanted to cringe in fear, but she forced herself to stand tall instead. She bent her body into a defensive stance, weaponless as she was, and prepared for the attack. It was possible that Vader would simply choke the hapless hunter and be done with his task, as he had attempted with Daven, yet Nyssa still hoped she would be given a chance at survival.
She lunged suddenly and aimed her fists to smash the support system flashing on his chest, supposing that its destruction would render him helpless to stop her escape if not completely dead. It was her best option.
It took less than a second to jump close enough to the Sith to strike, but, astonishingly, Vader was ready for her, predicting each of her moves.
He grabbed her outstretched fist and crushed it mercilessly in one of his own. She crumbled ever so slightly, losing her perfect combat form, and fought the oncoming screech as half of her fingers broke.
Nyssa sunk down before the Dark Lord's feet when he let her hand go, hissing in response to the unexpected agony. Her cheeks reddened in both pain and anger as she fought to control her throbbing nerves.
She was about to rise again, to continue the fight to her own death, willing to follow Daven into whatever sort of afterlife, when that black glove grasped her hair's topknot and yanked the hunter to her feet.
This time, she allowed herself a vocal cry of hurt and surprise before she made eye contact with Vader. His mask was horrendous, as evil as it was dark, but she forced herself to spit at it.
Her vision was fuzzy from the tears she now seemed to be crying, so she would never know if her saliva had hit its intended target. But the attempt was good enough for her.
"Son of a kathhound," she growled, knowing that these would be her final moments in this galaxy. "You killed Daven. I'll see you in hell, that's for sure, and you better pray that we aren't more evenly matched there." She wanted desperately to butcher this monster and avenge the death of the only man she had ever loved, but was brutally aware that she would never have the chance in this lifetime.
"Daven," Vader mused, stopping his hand just millimeters from his lightsaber hilt. "Staver?" He was silent for a minute, seemingly thinking, allowing the name to hang like smoke in the air. "You were his lover?" he asked, his mechanical voice rumbling.
"Yes," Nyssa hissed, giving into her rage. "Not like you can understand anything like that." Bitter grief shot through her heart as she realized that she wouldn't live to give birth to Daven's child or see it grow up. It seemed Daven's sacrifice was for nothing. They could have died together, resting together for all eternity on this base's gray floors. But now even this was not to be.
At least Daven hadn't known that.
She closed her eyes and awaited the fatal blow, wondering if it would be from a lightsaber or the Force. The wetness from her tear tracks caused her hot face to burn and itch, but she ignored the feeling.
Moments passed that seemed like hours, but nothing happened. Her skull still hurt, yet it had lessened to a dull ache, making her wonder if Vader was still pulling her hair. She swallowed loudly, amazed that she was able to hear her pulse booming in her ears and her harsh breathing more than the Sith's respirator.
Suddenly she dropped to the ground, landing with a shriek on her broken hand. She instinctively backed away, crawling with her injured hand clutched against her chest. She must have gone meters before she bothered to question why the Sith had let her fall.
Nyssa glanced back up, expecting her face to meet with the heel of a boot, only to watch a black blur of a cape retreat from the hangar bay.
She continued to crawl, reaching the underbelly of the Gray Star and leaning against one of the landing gears. She curled into a defensive ball and rested her broken hand atop her knees while her other rubbed her abdomen protectively. Her hair flew about her face in disheveled strands, which stuck to her cheeks as her tears dried.
Nyssa could only imagine why Vader had left. Did he have some horrible torture device he wanted to grab from his ship? Did he sense the baby and want to find a way to make them both suffer equally before death? Perhaps Daven was still alive and he knew … and he was going back to finish the job.
Her eyes filled once more, but she refused to let the tears fall. She merely continued to hide underneath the ship and stare at the hangar bay entrance.
Minutes passed.
And still silence.
Nyssa, never one to miss an opportunity, realized that this was possibly her only chance to escape. She sprung to her feet and ran up the ship's ramp, looking over her shoulder as she did so. The bay remained empty.
The gauge in the cockpit read fifteen percent to her relief, so she strapped herself down for a speedy lift off.
That's when she noticed it.
The Star's radar was picking up another ship, just like it had done when Vader had arrived, but the green flashing indicated that the vessel was moving away, up into the planet's atmosphere. A few minutes later, the screen went blank and the proximity alarm went silent, signifying that the skies above her were clear.
Vader had left.
Nyssa's throat went dry. Why would the Sith Lord leave? Was it some sort of trick?
She opted to take advantage of the situation and leave before he could change his mind, but something stopped her hand before she began the preflight checks.
If he had left and Daven was still …
She released her harness and left the ship, carefully walking out of the bay. She felt her body shaking, anticipating the worst, so she had to force her legs to move slowly. Her hands rubbed together in a nervous gesture she had picked up as a child, despite the ache in her broken fingers.
Her heart was in her throat as she rounded the last corner before the control center, but then it plummeted down somewhere near her stomach when saw she the body lying on the floor.
She stopped in her tracks and threw herself against a nearby wall, burying her face against it as the last of her emotional strength dissolved into wracking sobs. Her knees gave way and she fell slightly, unable to control her body.
She crouched meters away from Daven until the trembling calmed and she managed to breathe again. She stumbled over to him then, trying not to become paralyzed by the sight of the gaping wound in his midriff, and pressed her forehead against his neck, allowing herself to weep once more. His body was already growing cold.
When she had recovered, she sat up, realizing that the side of her face was covered in Daven's blood. She ripped off a piece of her undercoat and wiped off his chin, trying to clear away the blood that hadn't yet dried.
The motion was so familiar, reminding her that only a few days prior she has tended the young Jedi while he laid unconscious, right before she had worked up the nerve to kiss him. That pleasant but anxiety-ridden moment seemed like so long ago, a different lifetime even, as she finished her gruesome work.
"I don't know why he let me go, Daven," she told him, wishing he could listen, "I bet you would know, though. You didn't know everything, but you would have known that."
Nyssa stared at him, noticing how innocent, how serene, he looked in death. He had accepted it just as he had accepted the bounty on his life and her hunting him – with grace and poise. Could she have expected anything different from Daven?
"What am I supposed to do now, drone?" she mused, attempting to call him by her favorite endearment. "You've been my life for the past two years. I don't know what to do." She ran her hand along her belly. She couldn't very well continue hunting – she had lost the taste for it – and smuggling and the rebellion were no places for a woman with a child.
She sighed, forcing herself to breathe, and stood. Grabbing Daven's body, she hefted over her shoulder.
The trek was rough, especially with the throbbing in her hand, but she carried him to the Jedi pyre and ignited the wood there one last time.
He would rest with his brothers. Nyssa knew that he would find it fitting and be grateful, possibly more than she would ever understand. He was a Jedi and he belonged to the Jedi, but she refused to deny that she too had owned a small piece of his soul, however briefly their mutual love had been celebrated. Nyssa decided then that she would carry him with her always, no matter where destiny decided to take her.
And she wouldn't be alone. She touched her abdomen gently as the last of the pyre's flames died down and darkness settled over the barren field once more.
"Well," she said thoughtfully as she looked at her stomach, "I guess it's just you and me, kid."
At that, Nyssa Jade turned her heel and headed for her ship, not looking back, but not forgetting either.
(PLEASE READ) Author's notes: There is an AU sequel to this fic, where Daven lives, as I've already said. A few of my lovely readers requested that I post it here, but, after some consideration, I've decided not to. For one, the tone of that fic is fairly different from this – much more humorous and lighthearted. I don't want to ruin the ending of this stand-alone piece by tacking the sequel onto it. While this one was fun to write, the sequel is an absolute toy, created solely for amusement. Plus I want to have at least one completed fic on this site :-p I might eventually place its sequel here, when I know that I can complete it and when. For now, however, if you are interested in reading it, you can do so on my site, which is linked to on my profile. (Sorry, but ff.n won't let me link to it here). It's called Rescue the Princess. Thanks!
Pearlwriter: Heehee, see, I couldn't stand to see Daven dead either, hence the sequel. You didn't know Nyssa was an OC? Interesting, I'll take that as a compliment ;-) I'm usually not a fan of OC fics either, but when you find a good one, it's a gem. Hard to find, though… Ah, yes, Daven's sarcasm made this fic for me in a lot of ways. Boring Jedi aren't my thing…
Tony the jew: Thanks! If you are at all familiar with the EU, you can hazard a pretty good guess as to what happens, but I suppose the end result is a happy one …
RowenaR: Sorry. There, there pat, pat Thanks! I don't really know what to say in light of such praise other than I'm glad you enjoyed it :-D And go you on liking inter-trilogy Ocs ;-) Can't say I'm a huge fan of bounty hunters either (Boba Fett just needs to stay dead) and boring Jedi aren't much fun either :-p