Summary
"The water had just engulfed the computers. He had to find a way out of here. He scanned the room for an escape route. The now-submerged screens illuminated the water with an almost unreal bluish light. He had to find an exit, fast!"
A/N: /!\ Warning: this chapter contains a near-death experience scene.
Thank you to all of you who read me! I am especially proud of this chapter and the next one (although as usual I still find plenty of flaws in them!). I think these are my two favorites in this fic. I hope you will like them too!
Chapter 10 – Drowned (nearly)
"Sorry, this mission is for one of you only," said the foreman droid in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Let the boy come with me," Prauf tried to negotiate in a friendly tone. He's young, he still needs to learn the ropes."
"You have not understood. The mission does not involve you. It is about him," the droid replied, pointing a long metal finger at Cal.
Surprised, Cal and Prauf looked at each other. This was the first time the Guild had asked to assign a mission specifically to Cal, and only to Cal.
"We need a small rigger, and he is the only one on this ship who meets that criteria. You are allowed to assist him remotely, however, you should know that you will not be paid."
Being on a mission by yourself? Cal did not like that. It had to be said that the last time had gone rather badly. Even though Prauf had taught him everything he knew, he did not feel reassured being on his own. However, perhaps it was time to grow up, and show the rest of the team what he was capable of. To show them that he deserved his place among them. He took a deep breath and nodded, trying to sound confident and resolute.
"Okay, I'll do it."
"I'm coming with you, kid," Prauf announced, looking at him.
"You don't have to. You probably have better things to do. Besides, the foreman said you won't get paid."
Prauf shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't mind. I want to make sure nothing happens to you."
He raised his hand and gently ruffled Cal's hair. Unfazed by their camaraderie, the droid resumed speaking.
"The hyperdrive access door has been damaged. We need someone to access the control room to initiate the manual opening. You will find the access point to the control room in sector B16, corridor 7."
Prauf and Cal set off toward sector B16, greeting the other scrappers they passed as they made their way through the maze of corridors of the Lucrehulk-class ship that had just arrived at the scrapyard that morning. The corridors were overrun with electrical cables and all kinds of equipment for dismantling valuable parts. This ship would soon be nothing more than a completely dismantled carcass.
Cal's anxiety had dissipated and been replaced by enthusiasm. This was his first time aboard a Lucrehulk – it must be said that Separatist ships were rather rare in the area. Prauf noticed his excitement.
"Ahah! That's your first Lucrehulk, isn't it? Pretty impressive, huh?"
"Yeah," Cal replied. "They're so huge!"
Prauf nodded.
"It takes a great firepower to take down a monster like that. But the Republic had powerful ships too. Anyway. I guess this new Empire is the same, huh? Separatist, Republic, Empire. In the end, it's the one with the best equipped army who wins."
Cal did not answer anything. It was a topic he preferred to avoid – it was because of this damn war that he was here today.
They kept walking without saying anything until they finally arrived at sector B16, just in front of the door that led to the hyperdrive. Deep scratches attested to the many attempts that had been made to force it open without result. With a lightsaber, Cal could have melted it down with no problem, but he did not have a lightsaber – at least the only one he had was buried in the mud dozens of miles away. Anyway, using a lightsaber was clearly not a good idea in these times.
"Mmmm, corridor 7?" muttered Prauf to himself. He resumed his walk, Cal on his heels.
After a few hundred steps, he stopped abruptly and Cal almost ran into him.
"That's corridor 7. And I guess that's your 'access point'," Prauf said, pointing to a hole at the bottom of the wall.
Cal crouched down and pulled out his flashlight to examine the opening. An old shaft used by maintenance droids. The passage was narrow. He understood better why the Guild had entrusted this mission to him and not to Prauf – the huge Abednedo could barely get his head through it.
"Well, if I have to do this…" sighed Cal as he got flat on his stomach to slip into the hole.
"We'll keep in touch by radio, okay?"
With his flashlight clamped between his teeth, Cal gave a thumb-up as a sign of approval before entering the shaft.
Using his forearms to crawl as best he could through the narrow tunnel, Cal made slow progress. Darkness surrounded him, illuminated only by the glow of his flashlight which showed him the way. Fortunately for him, there were no junction – he did not know the Lucrehulk as well as the Venator, and he would have been quickly lost. The image of the maintenance corridors of the Albedo Brave came to his mind. The sounds of blaster fire echoed in his mind. His heartbeat abruptly quickened and his breath shortened. No! This was not the time to have an anxiety attack! He must not think about it! Above all, he must not—
Suddenly he stumbled into a room, putting an abrupt end to his panic. He got to his feet and dusted off his clothes before inspecting the surroundings with his flashlight. The beam of white light sparkled for a moment on the many black screens, most of them broken, that adorned the walls, now mute and blind witnesses of a bygone past.
The radio suddenly sprang to life.
"Cal? Cal can you hear me?" It was Prauf.
"Yes, I can hear you," Cal replied into the comlink attached to his protective glove.
He heard a sigh of relief.
"Phew! I thought something had happened to you. Where are you?"
"The foreman was right. I've arrived in the control room."
"Did you find the opening control?"
"No. But it's dark. I think the power is out in this area. Do you think you can find a way to restore it? If not, I won't get anywhere."
"Okay, I'm going to see what I can do."
A shrill crackle signaled to him that Prauf had just turned off the radio. Cal stepped toward what appeared to be the main computer. It seemed to be intact. Running a finger through the thick layer of dust that covered the keyboard, he did not feel it right away – an echo.
A Neimodian barks panicked orders. Hull breach! There's a hull breach! The captain can say what he wants, they're screwed anyway. Damn Rep—
Cal abruptly withdrew his hand and closed his eyes for a moment to chase away this frightening vision. He had already seen battlefields during the Clone Wars. However, this waiting and anguish of seeing death coming inexorably without being able to do anything – it was horrible. He sometimes forgot that the Separatists were living beings too.
Flashes of light shone through his eyelids, pushing him to open his eyes. The control screens blinked laboriously back to life. Cal deduced that Prauf had found the auxiliary generator.
He tucked his flashlight into his belt and took advantage of the sudden brightness to inspect the area a little more. The main door was still blocked despite the restoration of power. Only a few consoles were still working – fortunately, the main computer was one of them. Piles of plastic crates stored in the corner of the room had fallen to the floor, probably from a violent impact, now forming a sort of mound that almost reached the ceiling.
Cal pulled one of the crates up to the front of the main computer and sat on it before beginning his work. The dust particles that had been kicked up by his passage danced for a moment in front of the bluish light of the control screen, hanging in the air like the thousands of stars in the galaxy that this old ship must have crossed in the past.
A distant, muffled rumble told Cal that a storm was probably coming. This information was soon confirmed by the rhythmic clatter of rain on the ship's walls. The room in which he was standing must be close to the outer wall for him to hear it so well.
The rain. Not a day went by without it coming to greet the people of Bracca. It had always been there, long before the first settler arrived, and would always be there, long after the last scrapper died. It was the one who welcomed Cal when he arrived on Bracca. That fateful day when—
The ship shook abruptly, bringing him out of his thoughts – lightning must have struck nearby. He shivered. Why did the rain always have to be so cold? It was a good thing he was under cover. So, why was he wet? It was then that he realized his feet were in water. This old ship was riddled with holes, no wonder the water was getting in. It must have been pouring down. Cal had to hurry – luckily, he was almost done.
He shook off the feeling of worry that was beginning to creep up on him and focused on his work. The sooner he was done, the sooner he would be out of here.
He pressed the last button, and barely a second later he heard Prauf's voice cry out in victory.
"Great! You did it, Cal! Hurry up and get out of here, it's raining buckets and I don't want to rot in this old sieve."
"I bet! My feet are totally in the water!"
Cal stood up. The water was now just below his knees. He had to move fast. He struggled against the flow to get to the hole he had come through, when he realized something was wrong. The water that had invaded the room had taken the same path as he had. A path that was now completely submerged and much too long to hope to crawl back up without ending up drowned.
Panic suddenly seized him. He rushed towards the door, pushed, pulled with all his strength, but it still refused to open. Running through the water as best he could to the computer, he tried to operate the remote control, but nothing helped: he was well and truly trapped.
He slammed a raging fist down on the computer keyboard and let out an expletive.
"Cal? Cal, are you okay?"
"Prauf! I'm stuck! The way back is flooded and the door is blocked."
A sudden shower of sparks reminded him of another problem: he was in a room full of electrical devices. He had to get out of the water quickly, or he would end up fried!
He looked around in panic. The stack of crates! It was his only way to get out of range of the electric pool in which he would soon be swimming.
Clutching the crates, he climbed as best he could to the top of the stack, his fingers sliding on the wet plastic. However, the water level kept rising. He had gained only a few minutes of respite.
"Prauf, Prauf!" he shouted in his comlink. "Please! Turn off the power! Quickly!"
The water had just engulfed the computers. He had to find a way out of here. He scanned the room for an escape route. The now-submerged screens illuminated the water with an almost unreal bluish light. He had to find an exit, fast!
The light went out suddenly. Prauf must have managed to cut off the power. Cal tried to turn his comlink back on, but it had taken on water and was no longer working. He could only rely on himself. He scrutinized the surface of the water, but all he could see was a black mirror on which the red light of the emergency lights was reflecting. He could no longer hear the sound of flowing water. He could only hear his own breathing and the too fast beating of his heart. Pulling his gaze away from the watery black surface to focus on the walls, he feverishly searched for a way to escape a drowning he was certain he could not avoid if he stayed here. However, it was too dark, he could see nothing.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in his head. A voice from the past, warm and deep.
Trust only in the Force.
He tried to calm himself and regain his composure. Panicking would only make things worse. He sat as best he could on top of the crates and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the Force. It had always helped him. It had always been there for him.
After a few minutes that seemed endless, he felt it call. But it was too faint, too far away. He could not keep up with it. He gave up and opened his eyes.
Think. Karabast, think Cal!
Soaking wet and freezing, he made an effort to get his brain back in gear. Light. He needed more light. He groped his belt until his shaking fingers found what they were looking for: his flashlight. He turned it on and threw it into the water. The flashlight slowly sank, illuminating the room for a short moment with its wavering light before flickering and dying out. However, that was enough for Cal to find what he was looking for: an exit.
The water had finally caught up with him. Without waiting, he dove and swam clumsily toward the ventilation shaft he had spotted in the wall. Clinging to the grate just a few inches above the surface of the water, he braced his feet against the metal wall. He pushed on his feet as hard as he could, pulling with all his might until the grate gave way, causing him to fall backwards and swallow water
Coming to his senses, he swam to the surface. He coughed up the water he had just swallowed before looking inside the vent to try to determine its length, but he saw nothing. Anyway, he had no choice. It was either that or end up drowning.
He pulled himself up onto the edge of the shaft and crawled inside. He had to hurry. The water was already beginning to catch up with him. It was a race against time. A race for his life. His heart sped up; the warmth of the action spread through his veins, driving out the cold of helpless fear. Crawling, slipping, he continued on his way as fast as he could.
The water now reached his chest. The shaft was narrowing. What if it was a dead end? Would he die there, trapped like a rat? No !
The passage was now too narrow. He did not have room to pass. He had to have room to pass! First, he put his head through, and then he pushed on his feet. He felt the sharp wall bite into the flesh of his forearms through the thick fabric, and he stiffled a scream. He had to pass! He managed to get his arms and chest through, and suddenly he slipped out of the shaft, falling into the void.
The water below broke his fall. He swam back to the surface. He must have been in an airlock. He groped the circular wall in the dark, until his hand met a ladder. Yes! It was an airlock! He was saved!
He climbed the rungs of the ladder, half-slipping, but he held on and refused to let go. It was not very high. When his head hit the hatch, he saw a myriad of black dots explode before his eyes. Blinking, he grabbed the handle of the hatch and pulled .
Nothing happened.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. NO!
The hatch was probably closed from the outside. He drummed, banged on the metal panel with all his might, screamed at the top of his lungs, hoping someone would hear him, but nothing.
The flame of hope that had guided him to this point suddenly died out, leaving only cold ashes behind. His shoulders slumped. Cal knew he had lost control of the situation. There was nothing he could do but watch death coming. He saw it in the hatch that remained blocked despite his best efforts. He saw it in the comlink that refused to turn back on. He saw it in the black water that continued to rise rapidly, engulfing first his ankles, his knees, his waist, his chest, his shoulders, his chin. Almost completely submerged, he tried to scream again, but only a sob escaped from his throat.
He could not swim against the icy flow that was carrying him away, and he let go of the ladder's rungs. Helplessly, he watched the air bubbles escape from his mouth, counting the terrifying seconds that separated him from the moment when his lungs would be empty. When that moment arrived, his mouth instinctively opened to take a breath of air, but only the icy water entered his throat and nostrils, choking him brutally. Panicked, horrified, terrified, he knew then that it was the end. His fingers went numb, his heart slowed down, his breathing stopped. Slowly, unable to keep fighting, he let himself sink.
A total night fell on the world.
A/N: I still have not found a new beta reader. If you want to help me, contact me by PM.