Savior Self

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES OMG!

Taris part eighteen.

Rated PG13

Disclaimer: I'm a nerd, guys.

Savior Self

Mission stepped back into her street clothes and slipped a dagger inside her shoe. She twirled her blaster and nodded confidently at Canderous, who grinned savagely and led them outside. Cortessa sharpened her vibroblades against each other, searching for something to kill; her eyes were hawkish and thirsty.

They made it half-way to the torture chambers before they were ambushed by guards. Screaming a blood-curdling battle cry, Cortessa slashed through them all, leaving them as bloody, trembling heaps. Canderous watched with adoration, but Mission was obviously horrified. She had never seen Cortessa attack with such… prejudice. Cortessa hacked and slashed her way up to the torture room, where she beat the door down with the hilt of her vibroblade.

Canderous stood back, eyes wide with awe.

A man stood screaming and writhing in the chamber, his face screwed up as tears poured down his cheeks. "NOOO!" he shrieked. "STOP! STOOOP!"

Cortessa's battle lust dropped like a robe. Her eyes grew wide and soft and she sprinted forward to stop the torture process. The field went out with a flicker and the man sank to his knees, gasping for breath, tears welling up in his eyes. After he regained himself he gazed up at her with utter gratitude.

"Thank you," he gasped. He shook his head and wiped sweat from his brow. "You have no idea what it was like in that torture cage. I don't know how much more I could have taken before going mad."

"I know plenty about pain," Cortessa said coldly. "That's why I couldn't sit by and just let you suffer."

The man frowned at her. "You know about pain?" He looked her over. "You don't look like a fighter, or a slave." He paused, noting the scars on her neck. "Oh!"

She folded her arms. "Do you have anything legitimate to say?" she murmured.

He nodded, and began patting down his pockets. "Uh… I don't have anything to give you as a reward for feeing me…" he muttered, tossing a few scraps of paper onto the floor. Cortessa patiently picked up an ID card and looked it over.

A sallow-faced man stared back at her from the card; his eyes were ringed with dark shadows, but the eyes themselves burned with a wild mess of emotion and clever consideration. His large mouth was twisted into a half-smirk, and a mop of brown hair masked his right eye.

"Do you know this man?" she asked, intrigued. He couldn't have been more than twenty-three.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Friend of mine," the pilot said, digging around in his vest pockets now. "Jaq. Hell of a good flier. Clever, too."

Cortessa nodded and handed him back the card. It was expired, anyway.

"Look, I don't have anything," the pilot said, pocketing the card. "Unless you want a picture of Jaq on your wall." He snorted. "But I've got information that could be worth a fortune." He stressed that final word. "Fortune."

Cortessa stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Speak."

The pilot took a shuddering breath. "I used to be the pilot of the Ebon Hawk – Davik's flagship, but you know that, don't you?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer, but he was only taking a breath. "I know the codes to disable the security system protecting it. I'll load them into your datapad now." He held out a hand, and Cortessa passed him her datapad. He leaned against the wall and jotted away, slipping his tongue between his teeth. "There," he said after a moment, giving her back her datapad, which she inspected. "You can use those codes to steal the Ebon Hawk right out of its hangar." He grinned. "Sell it to the highest bidder, ransom it back to Davik – whatever you do, you'll make thousands!"

"I see," Cortessa said slowly.

"T-That's all I've got," the pilot said anxiously. "U-Unless you actually do want that picture of Jaq… h-he'd be flattered, I bet."

Cortessa laughed. "No, that's fine," she said. "You can go now."

The man bowed. "It won't be long until Davik figures out I'm free. I have to grab Fay and get out of this base before that happens."

Cortessa was interested. "Fay?"

He nodded. "A slave woman. We… have history." His voice had gone quiet.

"Fetch her, and you can ride on our ship with us," Cortessa told him. "Grab anyone else who wants to come, too. Hurry – we won't wait for you."

"Y-You're serious?" the pilot gasped. "No hooks?"

"No hooks. No strings."

"Wow," the man muttered, and nodded. "Okay. Sure. I'll meet you at the hangar." He bolted, running as fast as he could. Cortessa slapped Mission on the shoulder.

"Cover him."

Mission stared. "You're kidding," she said flatly.

"No. Cover him. There are guards about."

Mission glowered but did as she was told, sprinting after the pilot.

Canderous shifted uncomfortably. "We got what we came for. We should get going."

Cortessa nodded and led the way to a consol outside the hangar bay. She paused, her fingers poised over the sensor board. She glanced over her shoulder nervously.

"What are you waiting for?" Canderous growled.

"I can't leave them," Cortessa muttered. "Give them a second."

"Something's not right. Hurry up."

Suddenly Mission rounded the corner with the pilot and slaves in tow, along with a flustered cook and a suspicious Exchange thug. Cortessa grinned at them and typed in the codes. The hangar bay door whooshed open and suddenly there was a jarring explosion, locking the door half-open and sending it up in smoke.

"Go! Go! Go!" Cortessa cried, shoving the group through the door and jumping after them. Another explosion sent her stumbling to the ground. On the opposite end of the bay, Davik and Calo were racing for the Ebon Hawk.

Davik was barking angrily; he lurched forward as some rubble clanked against the back of his purple armor. Calo heaved him to his feet.

"Damn those Sith!" Davik shouted. "They're bombing the whole planet! I knew they'd turn on us sooner or –" Davik spotted them and stuttered to a halt, even as a fuel banker blew up on the far side of the room. Rage flickered over his aged features. "Well, look what we got here! Thieves in the hangar!"

Calo aimed with a large repeater.

Cortessa smirked. "You don't have a problem with it, do you, Davik, baby, sweetheart?" she said, in an almost affectionate manner, though silky danger drifted beneath her words. The pilot was stammering and clutching the slave girl Fay tightly.

Davik scowled. "So you figured you'd just steal my ship for your get-away and leave me high and dry while the Sith turn the planet into dust?" He spat. "Sorry, but that ain't gonna happen!"

Calo smirked, flicking the safety on his repeater. "I'll take care of them, Davik." He looked Canderous over and licked his lips as if he could taste the Mandalorian's blood already. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

Davik grunted as another fuel banker blew up. "Make it quick, Calo. The Sith mean business. If we don't get to our ships and find somewhere safe, the bombs they're dropping will kill us all."

Before Calo could even begin firing, Cortessa was screaming, and ran towards him, blades shining. Calo swore, startled, and fired at her chest. It bounced off of her armor pointlessly.

"DAMN! DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!" he shouted, and, in blind panic, smacked her over the head with his repeater.

"You… you…" she growled, and grabbed his thick wrists. They dropped their weapons and grappled right there. Mission cautiously shot at Davik, but he died when some sheet metal was plunged into his head.

"DIE!" Cortessa screamed, beating Calo's head against the floor. She straddled his barrel-like chest, pinning his arms beneath her knees.

With unusual dexterity, he drew up his legs and kicked her in the back of the head. She gasped and released him; in turn he mounted her and punched her with prejudice. Blood spurted forth and she cried out desperately.

Canderous had had enough. He shoved Calo out of the way, and right into the path of a falling tangle of Durasteel beams. There was the satisfying crunch of bones, and the scream of dented armor. Calo was dead.

Cortessa was unconscious. Canderous lifted her with ease and held her in his arms, carrying her quickly up the ramp to the Ebon Hawk.

"Wait!" Mission gasped. "What are you doing?" She glanced back at their awkward company; the pilot was picking Davik's corpse for goods.

Canderous glanced back at her. "We're getting this ship fired up," he said flatly. "I'm getting your buddy to the medbay, picking up the rest of your friends, and getting you off this rock. Now."

Mission nodded, and urged the slaves onboard. The cook and the Exchange thug went last, and Canderous launched the ship, dodging and weaving them through the bombing fire of the Sith orbit. Canderous hovered them above the apartments and sent Mission out.

Mission jumped four feet down to the ground at a sprint, and ran into the apartment. A minute later, she was racing back, with Bastila, Carth, Zaalbar, and T3-M4 on her heels. Zaalbar grabbed the little droid and tossed it inside. T3 banged loudly and squealed angrily. Bastila leapt up smoothly and reached out a hand to Mission, who got a leg up from Zaalbar. The combined effort helped her aboard easily. Zaalbar climbed in, and Carth took a running leap onto the loading ramp. He missed. He did it again. He rolled inside and Canderous took off.

Carth and Bastila rushed to the bridge and knocked Canderous out of the pilot's chair.

"I'm driving," Carth barked. The pilot from Davik's estate huddled in the corner, watching with fascination as Carth drove them out of there.

As they pressed for hyperspace, Bastila cried out. "Plot a course for Dantooine! There's a Jedi enclave there where we can find refuge!" She reached past Carth and pressed a button.

Carth slapped her hand away and nodded at the pilot from Davik's estate. The man quickly tapped in the coordinates, overwhelmed by being in the same room as the beautiful Bastila Shan.

"It's not in your drive," the pilot said suddenly, flushing. "I-I… do you want me to enter it?"

"How long will it take?"

"Five, ten minutes."

"Then do it."

Suddenly the consol began beeping. Carth swore, punching in some commands. "Incoming fighters!"

Bastila whirled around and pointed at Canderous. "You! Quickly, to the gun turrets! You have to hold the Sith fighters off until we can get those hyperspace coordinates punched in!"

------

Even in hyperspace, they had a good five days before they reached Dantooine. Cortessa had gained consciousness the day after the attack, and lay in the medbay in silence. No one suspected her to be awake until she suddenly called out, "Where are my clothes?"

Mission had lost herself in her bunk. No one bothered her. Zaalbar seemed to be quieter than usual (which was amazing, since he was so quiet anyway), and he didn't eat as ravenously as he normally did. Canderous was actually rather happy, and spent his time fixing up Cortessa's swoop bike, which had gotten aboard the Ebon Hawk once Davik had bought it from the track for several thousand credits. It was in bad shape – the prototype accelerator was caught and jammed and would probably never work again, it was scuffed up, the motor wouldn't start, the shift was broken, and several other things had been smashed into unusable pieces. It took all of Canderous and Zaalbar's repair smarts to get the thing in good enough shape to have T3-M4 do some routine maintenance. Canderous had fun getting his fingers coated with oil.

Carth isolated himself in the cockpit, and only Cortessa and Bastila were allowed in, to check up on him, or make sure their plot was correct. Though he always protested, Cortessa would rest her hands on his shoulders and work her fingers to relieve the tension in him. He appreciated it, but it was far too friendly, and he didn't like it. Bastila, when she was in the cockpit, was either eerily silent, or overly talkative, going off on everything from the Vulkars to the Jedi.

Usually, he preferred her silence.

The pilot from Davik's estate, the slaves, the cook, and the thug all wandered around the ship daily; T3-M4 did rounds to make sure they weren't getting into trouble. The pilot visited the cockpit when he could, just to gaze at the controls, but often his lover would find him and drag him back.

The slave women were no longer allowed cigarras. The smoke made the entire ship uninhabitable. They resented it, and chewed on the unlit stubs, glaring at nothing in particular. The cook made their meals and got the synthesizer working, and the thug… the thug just kind of sat there stonily. Bastila promised them all that she would release them onto Dantooine when they arrived.

On the fifth day, after a silent, awkward breakfast around the main table, Carth sat at the controls and slowed the hyperspace down, keeping his arms folded as they drifted. Dantooine came into view and he tapped in the magnetic landing locks. Flicking on the intercom, he said, "Dantooine landing in approximately one hour, fifteen minutes."

Bastila, Cortessa, and the pilot appeared in the Cockpit. The pilot took his customary place in the corner, as did Bastila in her chair, and Cortessa against Carth's back.

"Dantooine," murmured Bastila wistfully, and pressed her fingers to the glass window. "It seems like a lifetime since I last set foot on her surface, though in truth it's only been a few months." She sighed and looked at Carth. "We should be safe from Malak here… for now, at least."

Carth frowned, unconvinced. "Safe?" he said incredulously. "Safe? You saw what his fleet did to Taris! There wasn't a building over two stories high left standing! They… they turned a planet into one big pile of rubble!"

Cortessa's hand found his shoulder again. He gritted his teeth.

Bastila folded her arms, confident in herself. "Even the Sith would think twice before attacking Dantooine," she argued smoothly. "There are many Jedi here, including several of the most powerful Masters of the Order. There is great strength within this place."

"Which would turn it into a target, even without you," Carth said stoutly.

Bastila flinched.

Cortessa spoke, surprising them all. "I think Carth has a point," she said. "We should keep moving."

"Hey, what about me and Fay?" cried the pilot from the back of the room. All eyes turned to him. "You said you'd drop us off! I'd rather be put smack in the middle of a mound a' Jedi before we tip off to some place like Tatooine or… o-or Nar Shaddaa!"

Bastila cocked an eyebrow. "We will never turn over and grind to Nar Shaddaa," she replied, for once allowing her speech to falter to slang. "That place is a war zone by itself."

"Kind of like Taris," Carth said nastily.

"Look," Bastila sniffed. "We can't just keep running. Malak will find us eventually. We need to regroup; we need a plan."

Silence.

Bastila continued. "We can get supplies here and recuperate. The Academy is a place of mental and spiritual healing; something we could all use after what we've been through."

Carth gave in, seeing that Dantooine was so close anyway. "I guess you're right," he muttered reluctantly. "It isn't easy to witness the annihilation of an entire planet." I would know. Cortessa seemed to sense this thought and looked down at him earnestly. He cleared his throat. "I-I know Mission… I know Mission must be taking it pretty hard."

"What about you?" Cortessa murmured; her voice was so quiet no one else could hear.

Bastila didn't catch Carth's struggle. She smiled. "She will find a way to come to terms with her grief," she said. "She is stronger than she appears. We just need to give her time."

"We have all the time in the world, sure," the pilot wisecracked from behind.

"You, shoo. Go clean out the synthesizer." Bastila flicked a hand at him.

Scowling, the pilot marched off.

Carth glanced at the readings. "Landing T minus fifty minutes."

Bastila sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "So we wait."

------

Author's Notes: I loved this chapter best. Just because I added all these extra things in there that I like. Yay me. Yay me.