Waking up on the Chimaera
Ezra knew he was in trouble as soon as he came to. The lethargy he felt in fiber of his being left him immobile, weighed down despite his desire to move. The pounding ache in his head was worsened by the blaring sirens and alarms that were coming at him, seemingly from all directions. Red flashing lights engulfed his surroundings in foreboding waves of crimson.
He struggled to think.
How long have I been out?
He forced his eyes open, and his brain began to recollect bits and pieces of where he was, and what had happened.
The Purrgil.
The Chimaera.
Thrawn.
Karabast!
He was on the floor of the bridge. He forced his mind to wake up. He made it to his side and propped his arms against the floor. He tried to push himself up.
The alarms were still blaring; the throbbing pain inside his skull seeming to increase with each piercing decibel. He covered his face with one hand to shield some of the light from entering his vision.
He looked around the control bridge and crew pits.
Forms began to assimilate. He saw Thrawn, along with several surviving officers and crew members furiously trying to control the ship.
The Purrgil; they were still gripping the ship, careening them all through hyperspace.
With no bay windows in any of the viewports.
The few personnel that were left dashed between panels and consoles, furiously attempting to do something, anything, to gain control of the ship again. He saw Thrawn's red eyes glaring his way, then a shout as Thrawn commanded an order to one of his officers.
"Agent Miranda, restrain Commander Bridger immediately. Disable his hands."
"But sir, I must not leave this command statio-"the Captain began.
"I said restrain him!" Thrawn snapped. "Then take him to interrogation. Hold him there; do not let him out of your sight." He then addressed the crew pits, "No one is to leave the bridge tower."
"Yes, sir" the Captain stated. Aggravated, he rushed to where Ezra was still struggling to sit up.
With a swift kick of his boot, the Captain landed a painful blow in Ezra's midsection, causing the air to leave his lungs as pain radiated throughout his torso.
He let out a yelp at the unexpected assault. Throwing his free arm up in front of him, he willed the power of the Force to push the Captain backwards and away. Miranda flinched visibly upon seeing the hand gesture, knowing what it could mean. He staggered, throwing his arms over his face for protection.
Nothing happened.
Ezra willed the Force again with all the strength he could muster.
Again, nothing.
Realizing Bridger was powerless, the Captain charged upon him, landing several powerful blows into his chest, stomach, and groin. Ezra covered his face and head as he collapsed, crumpling into a ball, trying to protect himself from the Captain's angry barrage. Ezra cried out as pain flooded over him, threatening unconsciousness yet again. Still the Captain continued to kick him.
Kanan! Help me!
The Captain shoved Ezra down onto his face and stomach. Ezra threw back an elbow as he twisted his body, breaking the Captain's hold on him. He grabbed the Captain's arm, pulling him forward just as Ezra threw his head forward, landing a hit in the captain's face. He felt a splatter of blood and cringed. He tried to throw his other arm up; but the Captain had already recovered. He twisted Ezra's arm painfully, forcing him back down on his face.
"You little Loth-rat!" the Captain cursed through a mouth of blood. Grabbing Ezra by the hair, he yanked his head back and slammed his face into the cold metal floor.
The first blow had Ezra seeing stars, and with it, the realization of his current situation.
He wasn't just alone on this Imperial vessel; he was alone in deep unknown space. He had no idea where the Purrgil were taking him; no idea where he had maybe asked them to take him. The second blow brought another wave of pain and warbling black spots.
None of his friends were near, and perhaps they would never be able to find him. Ever.
Hid head connected with the floor again.
If Admiral Thrawn cared that the Captain was assaulting him, he didn't make any move to stop it.
As the Captain lifted Ezra and began dragging him towards a side doorway, a cold, lonely emptiness threatened to overtake him. He felt icy tendrils of hopelessness, as with one final thought in his aching head, he remembered that Kanan was dead.
Kanan; his master, protector, adopted father, and friend. Kanan was gone, and Kanan couldn't help him.
With that final thought, Ezra stopped struggling to escape the Captain's painful grip, and let himself fall into the oblivion of unconsciousness.
Thrawn shifted his gaze briefly back to Agent Miranda, who was taking Bridger to the back conference room.
Indeed it may be best if Commander Bridger is not present here.
He had his reservations of letting Bridger out of his sight, but right now he had a crisis on his hands. Not just one crisis, but many, the first of which directly correlated to the survival of both himself and his remaining, albeit dwindling crew. Most of his fleet were in fact, gone, and he was struggling to comprehend how the remaining few would make it out of this alive.
He would need to determine if he could sever the tie between Bridger and the Purrgil; then perhaps he could get the emergency shields up before they were all sucked into the vacuum of space.
Even so, there's little to determine how we are all not dead already.
He purposefully kept his hands neutral, at rest and clasped behind his back, instead of where he wanted them; which would have been applying direct pressure to his aching and tender ribs. The Purrgil had released their vice-like grip on his torso when Bridger had fainted, but they had not released their grip on the ship. Although he was in pain, he would not show any hint of weakness in front of his already struggling crew. If his officers or the crew saw that he was injured, it would only exacerbate their anxiety.
Thrawn's eyes glittered with cold fury. Bridger had single-handedly murdered thousands of Imperial assets. Lives. His fleet was all but demolished. He ran some quick figures in his head, determining which areas of the Chimaera may still hold survivors, and which sections could be sealed off in order to prevent additional casualties. If he could get everyone to the bridge tower, there might be some hope for them.
But probably not.
"Lieutenant Lomar," Thrawn called out. "Follow Miranda to the conference room; attempt to send out a warning message to the crew; notify any survivors to make their way up to the tower."
"Yes sir," Lomar called back, rushing to the conference room where the advanced systems were housed.
The second crisis, which was also forefront on Thrawn's mind, would just have to wait; and it wouldn't be much of a discussion if they were all dead. The fear for his people, the Chiss, crept up in his mind despite his efforts to push it aside for the time being.
He had failed them.
The Emperor wouldn't let the events that happened on Lothal go unpunished. And if he wasn't around to receive the punishment, no doubt it would be the Chiss people that suffered.
Thrawn took a deep breath, his red eyes glistening. He needed to warn the survivors. There were hundreds of barrack quarters located on the main neck that lead up to the bridge; and there was a chance that those people were still alive. And if there was any chance at all, then he needed to get to them. Immediately.
"Grand Admiral Thrawn!" he heard the familiar voice coming from behind him. The voice was higher than normal, giving away the strained anxiety that lay beneath the forced surface calm. But Thrawn knew that voice. He turned, finding himself truly surprised, relieved, and utterly grateful. These feelings flooded over him, immediately followed by a deep, aching sadness.
It was true. She was here. And that meant additional hope for his crew…yet the fact remained that now she would likely die, right alongside him.
"Commodore Faro?" Thrawn managed to regain most of his composure before turning towards her, although the stress lines were showing around his eyes and mouth.
"Admiral, I'm so sorry…I…well I seem to have missed my… oh never mind!" she stuttered out the words, grasping for some foundation and hoping Thrawn was doing the same. Then, steeling her resolve and snapping to attention with a look of determination across her brow, she stated, "What can I do?"
She saw a look of relief crossing Thrawn's face, changing quickly to one of determination as well. He was glad to see her, despite it all. She could be of some help. She would do whatever she could to help the Admiral and any survivors, even if it was the last thing she did with her life.
"Commodore Faro, please assist in alerting any and all survivors to make their way as close to the bridge as possible. We may have low odds of making it out of this, but we will endeavor to do so with every bit of strength we have left."
"Yes, Admiral!" Faro shouted, turning on her heels and running across the aft bridge towards the bridge neck.
Captain Miranda pulled the unconscious, bleeding young man by his arms; half dragging, half carrying him through the single blast doors.
Ezra groggily regained consciousness, realizing his body was being dragged through an entryway. Broken bits of ship were scattered throughout the corridor. Wires and burnt material hung from the ceiling and surrounding structures. There was a distinct smell of smoldering metal and fried electronics. Alarms blared. His head hammered.
"Hello, Bridger," said the man pulling him painfully by his arms. "You're in my charge now; Admiral's orders." He chuckled.
Although the force was still an enigma to him, Thrawn felt strongly that Commander Bridger was not suicidal.
This left him to the conclusion that Bridger had a plan in all of this, and even perhaps knew where the Purrgil were taking them. Could his powers be that strong? If that were true, then perhaps the whales were protecting the young man from further harm.
He tried again to override the emergency shields.
Bridger had been unconscious for a short time on the command deck, which meant that it wasn't necessarily his force powers that were creating the shield that allowed them to be under pressure and out of space's vacuum, nor was it altogether necessary that he be around or conscious in order to command the Purrgil. It must be the Purrgil in this instance, a creature Thrawn knew of vaguely but not in detail, who were controlling their vector as well as the apparent forceshield that kept them all breathing.
Maintaining some semblance of order and security within the remaining rank and crew was imperative; yet he could tell that most of the officers were in a constant and extreme level of panic. He began the process of inventorying and categorizing their resources, options, and possible location.
With Captain Miranda detaining Bridger and alerting survivors, and Commodore Faro working to rescue said survivors and bring them as close to relative safety as possible, the Grand Admiral began working on diagnostics of equipment; if he could determine their location, it may be possible to procure a rescue operative.
Ezra tried to right himself as the Captain dragged him. His legs felt weak. He had no strength left in his arms.
It wasn't long before the Captain stopped in front of a door, pressing a keypad and entering a room. It seemed to be multi-purpose; a large conference table spanned the bulk of the room and the control panels along the walls housed large and advanced communications equipment.
Ezra struggled again to right himself, fumbling with his feet to gain purchase on the sleek flooring. His head was pounding. He felt a mix of dry and fresh blood on his face. He could barely see out of one of his eyes, telling him that it must be bruised and swelling.
The Captain grabbed him by the hair, pulling his arms back and yanking him upright. He slammed him down onto the conference table, knocking out any remaining wind in Ezra's lungs. He felt the room spin as the Captain grasped both of his hands, holding them in place behind his back. He then pushed him through to the back of the conference room, pressing a still functional keypad which opened to a secondary back room, the purpose of which was painfully clear as soon as Ezra saw it:
Interrogation.
He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. Captain Miranda shoved him in the room, and he stumbled, losing his balance. He collapsed on the hard floor, and heard the blast doors close behind him.
Alone. He gasped and blinked, his eyes darting around the room as he fumbled to right his body.
His heart skipped a beat. There was a workbench with various implements and tools, their usage as devices of torture apparent. There were chains piled around the far left and right walls, an interrogation table to the far left, and a dormant interrogator droid powered off right next to it.
He closed his eyes. Pull yourself together!
Ezra had always struggled at controlling his fear, and in this moment, he felt like he was beginning a long descent into a deep and unforgiving ocean of it.
Remember what Kanan taught you.
Taking deep breaths, he tried to find composure.
Even as he had planned it; commandeering the Chimaera, engaging the Purrgil for help in removing Thrawn and his crew from the battle on Lothal; he knew that a situation like the one he now found himself in was most likely the fate he had been headed towards. Still, now that it was in front of him and he was faced with the reality of his plight, his resolve began to deteriorate.
Breathe, he told himself again, focusing on the lessons Kanan had hammered into his head over the last few years.
Remember your resolve; the Purrgil will protect you. The Force is with you.
He staggered to his feet, stumbling to the work bench in search of something he could use for defense. His hands were shaking as he reached for a scalpel looking device. He could barely gasp it.
A wave of vertigo assaulted him, threatening to drown him. He hung his head, trying to focus.
His thoughts turned back to his friends. Now that Thrawn was out of the way, he knew that those he left behind - his friends as well as everyone on his home planet of Lothal - had a better chance at survival, a better chance at success against the Empire. This made him feel a little better. Focusing on that thought helped ground himself.
He knew at that time that he was doing the right thing; he had felt it deep inside his heart and soul. Now, he just needed to remember that fact; because he also felt, deep down, that his trials were just beginning.
