The First Contact War

by 1Ragnarok1

In 2621 a Galactic Republic vessel is found in the Orion Arm, this springboards the United Earth Government into a galaxy at the start of the Clone Wars. A war that will test the 2nd UEG Expeditionary Force as well as the UEG finding out where it fits in this new galaxy, and their new neighbours.

27. Advanced Interrogation Techniques

The First Contact War

Chapter 27

Advanced Interrogation Techniques

"To call something an 'advanced interrogation technique' doesn't alter the fact we thought of it as torture when the Japanese used it on American prisoners, we thought of it as torture when the North Koreans used it, we thought it was torture when the Soviets used it. You know it's almost the moral equivalent as saying rape is an advanced seduction technique" Ted Koppel.

A/N: WARNING, this chapter contains torture.

"speech" spoken in Mando'a

2623 June 19th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Taskforce 242 orbiting Mandalor.

Luke sat gazing out the window of the cockpit of the shuttle. He, Tracinya and a dozen clones were on board. He watched the blues, blacks and whites of hyperspace that seemed so similar to the colours of slipspace. Ever since Ruusan, Tracinya had been giving him the cold shoulder. He assumed that she was still upset about the second IED and him not warning the clones about it. He didn't understand why she was so upset about another dozen people dying, people died in war all the time, he knew that all too well. Sighing, he looked out the window. He was so bored, there was no action, no gym, no shooting range, no routine for him to do. He'd cleaned his weapon and armour, four times. The door to the cockpit opened and he saw Tracinya walk in and sit down in the co-pilots seat next to him without sparing him a glance, evidently still upset over Ruusan.

"I see you still not over what happened on Ruusan." Luke said trying to get her to respond to him.

"And why wouldn't I be?" she said after a moment.

"People die all the time in war."

"You think I don't know that? You think because you've been fighting since the start of the war you know better than me. You abandoned those men to the IED. No warning, no heads up. You did nothing! Just because their clones doesn't mean their expendable. They. Are. People. Too."

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey there might be a second IED in the vicinity'. I didn't know for sure if there was a second IED. Back in the O.A.G. you are trained to expect a second IED."

"But they weren't O.A.G. were they! Because you treated them like you did over a dozen clones died. A dozen that could have been avoided. Men are not expendable."

"We are grunts in a galaxy wide war! I'm one man in a military of nearly one point two billion from a population of eight hundred twenty-three billion. That was a dozen clones from a military of nearly five hundred million. In the grand scheme of thing we're all expendable."

"Is that how you see yourself! Expendable!? A resource that can be replaced when no longer needed. To be discarded. You are a human being, you are worth something that nothing can be of value to. You. Me. The clones and Jedi. We are not expendable."

"Anything, or anyone, that is sent out with a good chance of not returning, is by definition expendable. Everyone of us knows that if the need arises, our government will send us on a mission against hopeless odds, and abandon us if it suits their needs. We are expected to walk into perilous and hazardous situations unhesitatingly and be prepared to risk our lives regardless."

"But the government has a duty to its troops! Just look at the gear you carry. Advanced guns, part Beskar armour, mine protected vehicles, first class medical treatment within hours of being wounded. You are not expendable or cannon fodder! And neither are the clones!"

"We were attacking heavily defended positions that had MG nests everywhere, no matter what we did we were going to sustain heavy casualties. Any other thought is just naïve!"

"Do not call me naïve! True I may be younger and less experienced than you but you should never abandon a comrade regardless of the situation. Something my parents taught me, and they are far more experienced and wise than you. You had your 40mm grenades, you could have used those!"

"I had a limited amount, I couldn't just keep firing all trigger happy!"

"You could have flanked them! Out-maneuvered them, called for an air or artillery strike!" Luke faltered at that point. She was right, he could have used alternate means but he hadn't thought of that at the time. Stupid, you were trained better than that, but then again urban combat is brutal, no quarter to be given without blood.

"The problem you have," Tracinya said calming her voice, "is that you are too pragmatic and machine like when you fight. You do exactly as you are ordered, while not a bad thing, you go about it like you are just a weapon. Like a tool. To be pointed in a direction and attack. I know you don't mean to discard lives like you did but that doesn't make it's acceptable. So please, next time. Don't just treat them as cannon fodder. Like their expendable. They're not droids." She finished. Silence descended upon the cockpit. Luke was just staring out the window, he was sure he had a guilty look upon his face as he mulled over her words. Tracinya was just a quite awaiting his response.

"Fine… I promise." He said letting out a sigh. Tracinya smiled at him.

"So you going to visit your aliit whilst were on Mandalor?"

"Yes, I called ahead to let them know I'll be therefore for a week before we ship out. What will youare doing?"

"I'm staying at an FOB named Gladius, near where clan Varad is located."

"Be careful, they're currently in the middle of a civil war. My father has received some threats from a member called Cassuis Varad, a real piece of work."

"I'll be fine. I'm me." Tracinya just shook her head at his comment. He could be so prideful.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor.

Luke opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the light that was just a few feet away from him. He could barely remember what happened to him and the company he was staying with. They were staying in a base near were clan Varad was located, who had been having disagreements with the current Mand'alor. After that, Luke remembered blaster fire whizzing past his head and the heard the dying screams of the company. Then… after that, nothing but pure blackness. Tracinya had gone off to see her family and clan whilst she could before they left to the staging grounds to assault Umbara.

"I see that you are finally awake."

Luke raised his head to find a Mandalorian of clan Varad face a few inches from his own. Luke suddenly felt a surge of rage go through every muscle in his body. The mandalorian. just stared at him while smoking a cigar.

"Ahh! Aahh!" Luke turned his head slightly to find one of local garrison, Pvt. Pyle. His wrists were tied behind his back to ensure that he couldn't counterattack. Another mandalorian man was standing in front of him, mercilessly beating Pyle with a small wooden stick. Pyle's face was bloody and Luke could swear that Pyle was missing some teeth as well.

"Orionian pig." The man said. Luke turned his head away from Pyle's beating and back to commanding man, glad that he didn't have to see Pyle suffer.

"You have nothing to say to me pig?"

Luke just stared at the man, he tried to move his wrists, but they were tied as well. Usually, Luke would do whatever it took to kill this piece of shit. But he knew that the other units would surely have known about the company's absence and would try to save him and other survivors. All Luke needed to right now was to hope for rescue and to drag this out as long as he could.

"You think because you saw nothing, you are strong?" The Mandalorian took another drag from his cigar and stood up. Luke's eyes followed him as he walked to the other man that was wailing on Pyle. The man said some gibberish to the other man and he stopped his attacks. Luke was ashamed to know what the man said in Mando'a. It translated to, "That one wouldn't talk. Stop and let me see to this one."

"What can you tell me about your army pig? The man grabbed Pyle's bloody chin and raised it up to his face. Pyle's jaw was too sore to curse the man, so he responded with a blood-filled spit.

Luke shook his head and wanted to yell at the young man. "Pissing off the enemy is only going to get you killed idiot," Luke thought.

The mandalorian wiped the spit and blood of his face and took another drag from his cigar. He took the cigar out of his mouth and tightened his hold on Pyle's chin. Then he jammed the entire cigar into Pyle's left eye. Pyle's screams were loud enough to be heard throughout the surrounding area, likely the clan compound.

Luke couldn't bear to look at the horrid scene. The man said to his comrade some more Mandoa, this time attracting Luke's attention. "Kill this worthless soldier."

The man bowed to his commanding officer and grabbed his hidden knife from his belt. He grabbed Pyle's chin and slice his throat. Pyle fell back and his scream came out as gurgles due the blood pouring out his neck.

"I need to get out of here before that guy remembers that I'm still here." Luke took one last glance at Pyle's corpse and started to crawl backwards using his legs.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Luke heard as the man walked towards him, his knife still dripping with blood. He then bashed Luke over the head knocking him unconscious.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor.

Consciousness was horrible.

Between the dreadful heat, pounding headache and utter confusion of where he was, Luke would've preferred to stay out cold. But he knew couldn't do that… He pushed his eyes open slowly and blinked a few times, where exactly was he? Looking around he saw he was in a small bland room, just three by four meters. He remembered being hit over the head. That would explain the headache…

The ground being at a ninety degree angle only told him he was laying on his side in what appeared to be in a small room. The room was completely bare. There was something else… or rather, there lack of. He tried to push himself up off the dirt to further assess the problem but came to the unpleasant realization that he couldn't move his hands; they were bound behind him. The next thing that hit was the stench. A damp mouldy smell permeated the air.

"Ugh…" With some effort he managed to roll onto his back and look around. The only way in an out of the room was an entryway covered with bars. He could see the outside; the dark corridor was visible along with a Mandalorian with his back turned towards him, seemingly guarding the cell.

It was clear then; he'd been captured. He closed his eyes briefly; it would do no good to panic in this situation. Opening his eyes he pulled himself into a sitting position, absentmindedly testing the bonds. The rope didn't budge one bit. The Mandalorian turned and looked into the cell.

"What are you looking at?" Luke hissed, not knowing nor caring if he understood him. The Mandalorians had their own language. Very few if any couldn't speak English or Galactic Basic but at this point he just didn't know.

"Such a violent clan…"

Luke froze, his eyes widening. If there was one of the many voices he never wanted to hear again it was that one. A familiar figure stepped into view, a grin played on the person's lips at seeing the surprise on the young man's face. "I suppose they aren't entirely useless though, if they managed to capture you of all people."

The person sighed and leaned on the bars of the cell, crossing his arms, "It's rather pathetic if you ask me. The girl is the one they're aiming to capture, and if I'm not mistaken, you are working with her." He glanced at Luke over his shoulder, "Are you not?"

Luke remained silent, but his eyes were fixed on Pre Vizsla with an almost livid glare, anger shooting through him at the Death Watch leaders words.

"Has he talked yet?" A new voice said as a new Mandalorian appeared in the room. He stood a few inches shorter than Luke did, "Remember I need him alive. For now..."

Vizsla chuckled, "It doesn't matter anyways. This all works out in my favour."

The Varad clan Mandalrian took his helmet off and tossed his snowy hair out of his face, "You see… I still am not any closer to finding the whereabouts of Tracinya since the last time we met, sad as that is to admit, but I think you can help me out."

"And I wish to know the OADF's plans for the Death Watch."

"Lieutenant Luke Sparrow, B-55-850-999 " Luke bit out, clenching his fists.

The Mandalorians smile widened, he turned to Luke fully with an almost abashed look on his face, "Oh! I'm sorry. I must have given you the wrong impression Sparrow, you have something I want. No I am not asking for it, I'm demanding it this time. And you can drop the whole rank, name and serial number, save us both the trouble."

"Lieutenant Luke Sparrow, B-55-850-999" the Luke growled.

The man's smile vanished, his eyes fixed on Luke, filled with malice and contempt for the teen. "Information. Now." He stated simply.

Unconsciously, Luke shrank away from the man, being trapped in a relatively small space with the person he probably despised the most in the world right now did not sit well with him. Especially when the person clearly had an advantage over him. This wouldn't be like their previous other encounters. Luke couldn't fight; all of his weapons had been taken away, and without help he was pretty much screwed. He couldn't run; the only exit in the cell was blocked by bars and beyond that, who knew, Vizsla and his Varad allies could have a whole army lying in wait. Worst of all he couldn't even defend himself with his hands tied, he was truly cornered.

His jaw clenched and unclenched, he uselessly tried to struggle against the rope.

Vizsla watched with dark amusement, he took a step towards Luke, smirking when the he pushed himself backwards in a futile attempt to get away from him.

"The last time we fought you killed two dozen of my men." He said, "Two dozen of some of the best mandalorians to ever serve the Death Watch." He continued to advance. Luke narrowed his eyes in the best warning glare he could muster up, Pre Vizsla stopped a few feet away from him. Sighing, the other Mandalorian brushed his hair back over his ear, "You know, your defiance was cute at first, boy, but now it really just grates my nerves. I fear I am growing impatient with you, so I'll make this easy, tell me the location of Tracinya Vizsla, troop movements or any plans your military has and I might consider sparing you whole lot of torment."

They would most likely kill him if he talked or didn't talk, it didn't matter either way. Luke's glare never wavered. If anything, their words only gave him more reason to rebel. "Why do you even want her anyway." He spat acidly.

"It's really not about her, so much as it is at getting back at her parents."

"Why's that?"

"Your attempts of stalling really won't help you."

"I'd tell you as much as a corpse would."

Vizsla expected this, his lip curled, "That can be arranged."

Then a hand closed around Luke's throat and in the blink of an eye, he found himself slammed against the back wall, air completely knocked out of his lungs. Vizsla tightened his grip, making sure that Luke getting his breath back was all the more difficult for him.

"I wasn't planning on letting you live anyways." The Vizsla hissed venomously, his face now mere inches from Luke's. "No, I made that mistake once, twice even. I never expected a brat like you to cause me so much trouble." Luke struggled in vain, it was useless. He couldn't breathe. He felt himself growing weaker by the moment.

Pre Vizsla kept on talking, "Rest assured it won't happen again, I learned my lesson from letting you run free." He then noticed that Luke's eyes were closing, he was blacking out from the lack of oxygen. Without a word, he dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, and stepped away.

"This is your last chance, Sparrow. I'll ask you just once more." He said, his voice deadly calm.

A few moments passed. Luke was breathing heavily, he leaned against the stone wall, eyes closed. He opened them, bright blue eyes shooting daggers at the man across from him. Yet he refused to say anything, and didn't look like he was going to anytime soon.

The other Mandolorian regarded him for a moment with one hand on his hip, he then shook his head and began to laugh slowly.

"Mistake."

A sickening crunch filled Luke's ears, he was jolted from his initial anger to shock in the blink of an eye. It took him a moment to realize what had happened; the man's foot had come down, hard, on Luke's right ankle, the bone had snapped effortlessly.

And then the pain set in, Luke let out a screech as the agony shot through him.

The sound was incredible, to Vizsla he was sure it was like music to him. He grinned devilishly.

"You're going to regret the day you ever crossed me." He said, eyes flashing with malicious intent, watching Luke slowly compose himself.

Luke bit down on his tongue to keep from making any more of the noise the sadistic bastard seemed to enjoy so much. He took a slow shuddering breath and let it out. It hurt… a lot, but he could handle it. He closed his eyes, teeth gnashing together in frustration and anxiety. How exactly could he get out of this?

"I'm sure I can imagine what's running through your head right now."

The man's voice was uncomfortably close.

He opened his eyes to see man's own grey ones staring back at him. If Luke had the space to jump back in surprise he would have. The man was kneeling in front of him, one hand was out to the side, middle finger and thumb pressed together in a snapping position. "You're looking for a way out, analysing every possible angle, like a cornered rat. But, dear boy, there is no way out." He reached for his belt and pulled out a darksabre, activating it with his thumb. Luke's eyes darted to it warily. "That wretch, Mand'alor won't come to your rescue, nor that pathetic Republic,?" He pondered for a moment, "neither your precious O.A.G. "

He traced Luke's jaw line with a single finger as he said, "But believe me, the death I'll grant you will not be a quick one. Oh no, by the time I`m done with you you're going to wish you were dead."

"You can't do this, I'm a prisoner of war. There are rules in place. I know the O.A.G. does as I'm sure the Republic and Separatists do as well."

"Let's see. Neither of us respect the Republic, the Separatists betrayed us and we don't care for some upstart barbarians that have just appeared. So no, we can do this."

"Your government hasn't declared war on either Clan Varad or the Death Watch. They said they were coming to help rebuild Mandalor and keep the peace. Your no different from any other galactic power. You helped Mandalor, in order to get access to a military ally and the Beskar iron that is found here. You helped the Republic, in order to get better treatment and access to their markets. Your fighting the Separatist to get concessions out of them at the end. So, you see, your beloved government is attempting and succeeding in exploiting the galaxy. Therefore, we don't respect any POW rules in place, which they aren't. Won't you help us free Mandalor from this oppression that your people inflicted upon her? Just tell us what we want to know."

"Lieutenant Luke Sparrow, B-55-850-999"

What happened next was a blur, numbness washed over Luke. A flash of black was all he saw and that was it.

At first, he didn't feel anything. Then it hit him, breaking through the haze. He was jolted from his initial anger to shock in the blink of an eye, his head snapping back as a strangled cry escaped his lips. Pain more intense than the heat of the volcano seized him. He twisted and turned, anything to stop the cruel agony.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it just stopped. Whatever had taken over him released its hold, he could think and he could breathe again.

But the actual pain never left and when he cast his gaze downwards, he realized why. He had stabbed down, driving the coal black sabre straight into Luke's leg, the same leg as his previous injury, and twisted. It was all there, the cauterised blood, the wound, and the blade; cold unrelenting darksabre buried in flesh and bone.

Luke resisted the urge to scream again, it was unbearable! Nowhere near as unbearable as it had been a few moments ago but he was definitely not in a pleasant state now.

He could have sworn the Mandalorian outside was chuckling.

Luke saw red for a split second, all pain forgotten for the moment and replaced by anger. He wanted to make the mandalorian feel even a fraction of the agony he was feeling at the moment. Without thinking, he lunged forwards only to regret it. With the sword still impaled in his leg, the only thing he managed to do was tear open the injury more. He gasped as he pulled himself back, gritting his teeth.

Vizsla only laughed harder.

"Now that really was adorable. What were you trying to do?" He tilted his head, feigning a sweet smile, "Hurt me?"

'No matter,' he thought, withdrawing the blade with deliberate slowness, a cold-blooded smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the boy writhe in anguish- oh, the sight was almost heart-breaking!

'Hahaha! Yeah right.' Vizsla thought with maniacal glee. He brought his black sabre close to his face, examining it before his eyes were drawn back to Luke's heavily mutilated leg. A lot of treatment would be required to heal that, it looked way beyond repair on its own. If the broken bones and torn muscles and ligaments weren't proof of that, then the blood was. So much blood…the metallic scent of it was driving him up the walls. With that Vizsla turned and left. As he did, he motioned to the guard.

Luke exhaled slowly, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He glanced around with unease, shifting slightly in a vain attempt to loosen the ropes a bit. Unintentionally he moved his severely injured leg and agony shot through him, he sucked in air through his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, trying to will it away.

It wasn't doing much good.

Still, he refused to show weakness and masked his pain with a fierce glare. He knew the other man had wondered off but was probably still here, so why didn't he just show himself already?

Then movement to the right caught his eye. There he was, sitting on a crate in perhaps the most arrogantly casual pose one could manage in this situation. With one leg crossed over the other, he leaned forwards, resting his chin on his hand and his elbow on his knee. He appeared to be almost bored.

"I could end this right now." He stated, not even looking at Luke, "You truly are helpless, it would be so easy…The only thing keeping you alive is what you possibly know on the whereabouts of the girl… feh." He sighed melodramatically, "But killing you now would be no fun of course… wouldn't you agree?" It was a rhetorical question, but he at least expected some sort of response from the Marine. Luke only remained silently glowering at the man.

"You can talk, can't you? Or are you just at a loss for heroics at the moment?" He cast Luke a scathing glance, who still refused to say anything. He was doing that on purpose wasn't he?

"Speak." And to Varad's surprise, he did.

"If you're going to kill me anyway, then there's no need to." Luke growled, the man blinking before leaning back on his hands with an expression of something caught between amusement and annoyance.

"Oh, you misunderstand me." He pushed off the crate, pacing back and forth slowly in front of Luke, "It's true I am going to eventually kill you, but I'll keep you alive as long as it takes to get the information I need or I get it from other sources, if only just. So you see, it's better you tell me now and spare yourself the suffering while I'm in a good mood…" He pretended to examine the black sabre still in his hand and still coated with Luke's blood.

"If this is you in your good mood I'd hate to see you when you're pissed…" Luke mumbled dryly.

The mandolorian ignored him, "…Rather than later, when I'm in a bad mood and you're barely breathing." He flicked his blade to the side, "Even then I might just let you live a little longer, be it a few minutes or a few seconds, to prolong your torture." He gave a cruel grin, "But it really is up to you."

"Lieutenant Luke Sparrow, B-55-850-999." It wasn't easy to miss the obvious strain in his voice even with the slight smirk Luke had across his face. The man rolled his eyes inwardly, trying to hide pain from him was foolish and pointless on its own, but it was Luke's never faltering spirit that infuriated him the most. Threaten him, smack him around a bit… it didn't matter apparently, his promises of torture had no effect. Absentmindedly he grabbed a dagger and twirled it above his fingertips.

He intended to break the man mentally, emotionally and physically, oh especially physically, but the question was: where to start?

'Well if I want to get anywhere, that resolve definitely has to go...' He thought.

With a flick of the wrist, he sent the dagger flying at Luke's head, but he was annoyed when Luke didn't even blink. It stuck to the wall beside his ear. A long but shallow gash appeared on his cheek below his eye.

"It must be frustrating," The man was walking forwards; Luke looked up calmly as he neared, "not being able to do anything I mean." He reached forwards and Luke cringed away, shutting his eyes and expecting pain. It never came. A few moments later he opened his eyes to see him on the other side of the room again, retrieved dagger in hand and grinning at Luke's reaction.

"I can do anything I want with you, and you'd be powerless to stop it." Excitement flooded through him at his own words. He threw the dagger again, this time aiming for Luke's shoulder. The boy gave a sharp grunt as it stuck deep into his bicep.

Another scream ripped from his lungs. He wanted so desperately to escape the pain; he thrashed around but only succeeded in agitating his injuries further...

Finally, it was over. He was left breathing hard, head lolling on his shoulders. He felt so weak, weak and angry... and he was suddenly aware of a certain monster invading his personal space yet again.

"So please," The man said, face inches from Luke's own, "do tell me how that makes you feel." Blood beaded at the small line on the boy's face, a few drops spilling down his cheek, Luke shuddered in disgust and turned his head away, but threw the sadistic man a stone-cold glare from the corner of his eye.

"What, the fact that I can't do anything or being stuck with you?" He tried to reply as sardonically as he could, but his voice sounded so feeble and came out as not much more than a whisper, it was sickening even to him.

The man tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as a small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. "Both." He reached up to grasp the dagger still embedded in Luke's shoulder and put the slightest amount of pressure on it, eliciting a wince from Luke. Luke wanted to get away from him so badly, if only he... wait! It took all of his self-control not to cheer as he felt one side of the rope binding his hands finally loosen a bit, allowing him to slip out his hands easily but without the man noticing.

"...Kind of like this."

The man had a split second to wonder what he meant before a fist smashed into his face, his face! Luke had thrown the punch with as much force as he could muster, which had surprisingly been a lot, fuelledby the sheer amount rage he felt for this man. And it got its point across. The mandalorian caught his fist before he could throw another one, head angled away from the boy due to the strength of the first punch. He could not believe he'd just been caught off guard like that, especially by someone in such a defenceless position.

"You..." He turned his head back slowly to glare at Luke, hissing in a low, menacing tone, "You will regret that."

He grabbed Luke by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up against the wall, by no means easy feat, eliciting a cry of pain from him

"Why won't you give up? Can't you see it's over? With you here it's only a matter of time before get revenge on Jestar Vizsla and the humiliation he brought me."

Luke had his teeth bared in a snarl, "It's not over," he said much more confidently then he felt, "and it won't be over until after you and the death watch lie dead and defeated!" There it was again, that goddamn resolve of his!

Varad scoffed and raised his free hand, snapping his fingers, "Keep thinking that, Orionian, but it won't get you very far."

Twin chains snaked down from nowhere and wrapped around the Luke's wrists, that jolted with a yell and tried to break free. It was no good, the chains held him fast to the wall. Varad smirked and lowered his hand to his side, pointing the black sabre he was still holding towards the ground, "Adorable little stunt that was before. A punch to the face. REALLY cute." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'll admit though, it was a good effort, but futile all the same." He looked Luke up and down. The man was trying not to put weight on his severely injured leg. He was covered in blood, sweat and dirt, a grimace on his face as he desperately attempted to push back the immense pain he must be feeling. It was quite the impressive picture actually… "At least this way there'll be no more significant resistance from you."

With his other hand, he grabbed Luke's chin, forcing him to look at him, "See?"

Anger, hatred, resentment… that was what he saw in the young man's blue eyes, but there was something else; the slightest flicker of panic, of actual fear from the marine since their first meeting when the O.A.G. first arrived on Mandalor. He'd forgotten how utterly fitting the emotion looked on him. Varad's smirk deepened.

"Get… the hell away from me," Luke tried to jerk his head away, resuming his struggles, he had meant to sound intimidating but his tone took on an edge of anxiety, ruining the illusion that he wasn't scared of Varad's advances at all. 'Good, he has every right to be afraid of me.'

"No, I don't think I will…" his hand trailed down, leaving the hero's face and finding the deep wound in his shoulder left by the dagger previously. He dug his fingers into it, relishing the way Luke squirmed and the little gasps he made… He didn't know how torturing the boy came to be so much fun, but honestly, he didn't care.

"Since we began I haven't heard you beg once for me to stop," Varad murmured, withdrawing his bloody fingers from the wound much to Luke's relief. The young man hung his head, breathing heavily. "I suppose I should admire your spirit. Not that it will last much longer."

"Really…" Luke huffed, glaring up through his dirty-brown bangs, "And why's that?"

Impressed, but annoyed that he still had the nerve to talk back, Varad positioned the sharp edge of the black sabre on the hero's left shoulder, "I want you to plead for mercy, and when I want something, I don't stop until I get it." He inclined his head slightly, "That should be fairly obvious by now."

With that, he slashed diagonally across Luke's torso, slicing clean through his shirt and through skin as well. The blood that welled up from the deep gash quickly stained the brown material a dark red. A horrible searing pain spread throughout his body and he screamed, oh God, his screams. The man could listen to them all day.

And he realized he had the time to do so as well. A dark grin crossed his face. The soldier wasn't going anywhere, and the only thing left to do was figure out where the other little brat was hiding out… through interrogation. Luke could put on his best tough guy act all he wanted, but sooner or later he would cave, reach his limits. And Varad was perfectly fine with that. The time between then and now was going to be oh so enjoyable for the silver haired man.

"Dar'manda …" he purred, getting right up to man's face which was now contorted in immense pain, his eyes were shut tight and he didn't dare open them. He didn't want to see the Varad clan Mandalorian at the moment… or ever again for that matter. "You can tell me where she is anytime, anytime at all…" Varad continued, gently running the tip of the blade along Luke's left forearm and coming to a stop at his palm.

"N…no." his voice still held defiance and rebellion, but it was weaker this time around and that was a start.

"In truth," Luke's eye's snapped open at the sudden bloodlust that had crept into the elder's tone, "I actually prefer it this way. Where's the fun in it if breaking you is no challenge at all?"

The cold fingers of dread clawed their way up the young soldier's spine. Varad pulled back his arm with a growing smirk of satisfaction, he was finally getting to him, he had to be.

Luke clenched his eyes shut, he knew he had to remain strong, he would find a way to get out of this, he knew he would…

Not hesitating another moment, Varad swiftly plunged the dark blade into the Luke's hand.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor – likely clan Varad compound.

It could've been days that went by, it sure felt like days to Luke. He'd completely lost the feeling in both arms, and was barely conscious, covered in harsh lacerations from head to toe. He briefly wondered how much blood a person could lose without blacking out. Apparently Varad knew and was purposely keeping him from doing so.

In reality it had only been a day, though to Varad it seemed like hours. He wanted to play with him a bit longer… but it looked like any more damage to the soldier would surely kill him, and he couldn't have that… not so soon anyways. He'd continue this later…

He snapped his fingers and the chains dissipated into the roof, Luke crumpled to the ground like a ragdoll. A small pool of blood began to gather under him.

"Oh dear… " Varad said out loud, stifling the urge to laugh, "…perhaps I went a little too far today."

Luke didn't even hear him, in a few seconds he was out like a light, falling into blissful unconsciousness. A clan Medic walked in to patch the soldier up somewhat, he wanted to draw this out and the man dying would be problematic.

"That's enough," he said after a while. A split second later, the medic quickly exited the room. He didn't want Luke completely out of pain when he woke up.

But he still couldn't believe it, no begging, not one single plea from the man, no cries of 'please stop!' How disappointing that was… In some way though, it intrigued him, he suspected a lesser man would have broken already but oh no, this one was special. The mandalorian rolled his eyes; the child was still nothing compared to him though. Stubborn as he was, he couldn't keep this up forever.

"Rest now, Orionian… this was only round one." He rose to his feet, turning to leave, but not before he threw one last glance over his shoulder.

"Everything has a breaking point." He muttered, before disappearing.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor – likely clan Varad compound.

Luke groaned as he pushed himself up, slowly and steadily, with one hand braced against the greyish stone wall. The other hung limply at his side. Mere minutes ago he had awoken in the same cell, no surprise there.

And he'd thought he'd felt horrible before.

Searing pain had greeted him instead of a raging headache this time around. He found that he much preferred the headache. He brought his hand up to his face, wincing with every movement. Anger soon began welling up inside him.

"I'm going to kill him." He hated how hoarse his voice sounded. How pathetic he must look right now! Covered in blood, clothes torn where the demon's blade had struck… repeatedly. His arms had probably gotten the worst of it all, it was a miracle he could still use them… actually it was a miracle he could even stand after all of that.

Wait, that didn't make any sense. He was standing.

Luke's eyes were drawn to his thought-to-be-wounded leg. Partially healed. No sign of any broken bones or twisted joints, though a dull pain still lingered, reminding him that he even had had the injuries in the first place. After further inspection, he realized it went like that for the worst of his wounds, the rest were either half-healed or just not healed at all. Not that he was complaining, but how? Why?

He found the answer pinned to the wall, a note, one of Varad's kunai-like daggers sticking out of it.

But why would – oh, right. The psycho mentioned something about 'keeping him alive until he got the information he needed'.

'That's just too bad for him because he isn't coming anywhere near Tracinya or getting any info. Not if I can help it.' Luke thought with renewed determination. Even after hours of the brutal stabbing he still hadn't broken or even cracked, and that was the important thing.

"Remember what I said before, it's entirely up to you though. But, mark my words, you will eventually tell me where she is."

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Cassuis Varad, clan Varad compound subterranean-complex holding cells.

Cassuis smiled in satisfaction, folding his arms over his chest.

The dar'manda who had caused countless problems and had even defeated the Death Watch not once, but twice, was now the same dar'manda practically crawling in a futile attempt to get away from him. Yes, it was indeed much more fun to break him down this way…

Still… it impressed him that he'd lasted this long already… and it equally infuriated him.

Cassuis sighed, shaking his head slightly. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to play these games… he could kill him at any time he wished, but that would hardly be productive. True, finding the girl would be… difficult without the information the man possessed… but not impossible. The dar'manda technically wasn't required, though it would be so much easier if he would just give in and tell me where the little girl was. But Vizsla still needed information on the OADF.

Maybe it was the challenge he posed that intrigued Cassuis so much, breaking such a spirit was not a simple task… that much was clear to him already. That was probably it; it was some desire to prove that he didn't need to kill the child to get what he want, that he was still stronger than him and he always would be.

Jolted from his thoughts, Cassuis blinked. Oh? What was this?

To his surprise, he saw Sparrow slowly getting back to his feet, seemingly finding the motivation to continue. Cassuis felt a slight twinge of irritation.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk… you're far too slow, dar'manda …" Cassuis tantalized, taking slow steps towards him, "Oh and you almost had it too! Such a shame."

He gives no response. He's not unconscious, is he? He drew closer. No, his eyes were open, though not staring at anything in particular. Cassuis circled around so that he was on the other side of him, his back facing the door, which gives a few whirls and creaks before sealing shut once again. They we're locked in – well, mostly he is locked in.

"By the way, that was over five minutes. I was being considerate and gave you extra time, but in the end, it didn't look like it made much of a difference…" Sighing with feigned wistfulness, Cassuis shook his head, "Oh, if only you were quicker…"

Cassuis leant over his head slightly. He was upside down glaring at Cassuis now – it was a glare of resentment and poorly concealed pain. This pleased him.

"So, it looks like you've wasted both of what precious time we have…" Cassuis said, crouching down to balance on the balls of his feet, his elbows resting on his knees. "Time that could be spend attending to more important matters."

He striked out at Cassuis's face with his fist, Cassuis effortlessly bat away the trivial blow and grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the floor beside his head. Stupidly, he tried again with his other hand, the result was the same. Cassuis now held both hands above his head; he's was not in a very good position at the moment…

He still tried to sit up, but his current physical condition, combined with Cassuis's strength, does not allow him to. He squirms, trying to free his hands, twisting his shoulders this way and that.

His struggles made Cassuis giggle, Cassuis let him tire himself out. He stopped, panting, narrowing his sky-blue eyes up at him in absolute loathing. Cassuis merely gave him a smug grin that he knew would infuriate him.

"Hate me, do you?" Cassuis teased.

"What the fuck do you think?" He snapped back, resuming his struggles. This time he tried to bring his leg around to land a kick on Cassuis, he switched his wrists over to one hand, using the other to grab one of his index fingers.

"Now, now… no need to be like that…" Cassuis put the mildest amount of pressure on that appendage, he winces and stills, "Continue struggling and I'll have to break your fingers!" Cassuis intoned cheerfully with a happy smile. His eyes widen slightly but he says nothing and does not move.

"Good boy."

That earns a growl from him.

Cassuis chuckled and released his finger, instead opting to run his hand through his hair, pulling it back over his ruined ear.

Oh! I just remembered something…

"You still haven't given me your answer," Cassuis crooned, leaning over him more. "I believe I've given you enough time to think about it…"

On his chest and stomach there are numerous gashes, most of them scarring – it's such a lovely sight… Cassuis reach out and press my palm to a pretty recent looking one just over his sternum, applying pressure gradually. He glanced down to gauge his reaction, he let out a sharp gasp and when Cassuis pulled his hand back, his glove is stained with blood. Ah, I've reopened the wound. Tiny rivulets of crimson branch out, contrasting nicely with his lightly coloured skin.

"I don't… know what you're talking about…" He grimaced, Cassuis scowled. Honestly, he had such short attention spans!

"Don't tell me you've forgotten?" His voice betrayed the slightest hint of annoyance, "Let me refresh your memory…" Cassuis bowed his head low to look him straight in the eye, their foreheads almost touching, "I gave you two choices, that Marine FOB, or the information that me and my ally seek. If you don't answer me now I'm going to assume you picked option number one." Cassuis hissed in a low voice.

Suddenly he jerked forward, bashing his forehead into Cassuis's. Cassuis reeled back, genuinely caught off guard.

"Bastard!" He shouts, resuming his struggles once more, "Why don't you stop acting like a coward and fight me?"

For a moment, he actually almost managed to get free. That fact alone sends anger coursing through my system – the little brat!

Snap!

That wasn't Cassuis's fingers.

Sparrow gritted his teeth, suppressing a cry of pain as the uppermost joint of his index finger broke easily under my hand. Though it did little to pacify my temper, Cassuis wanted to hear him scream… again… and again… and again…

"That's just it, dar'manda," Cassuis snarled under his breath, his eyes boring into Luke's, "I tried playing nice before… but you've pushed me too far and now…"

Snap!

"…we play the game by my rules, and my rules say you will lie still and accept punishment."

Cassuis worked his way down, finger to finger, each snapping joint wrenching sharp grunts and cries from the soldier's throat, and Cassuis still wasn't satisfied by the time his left hand was nothing but a mess of broken bones, rendered completely unusable. All throughout it he struggled, he jerked, he writhed, fruitlessly trying to free himself. Quite the fighter he was.

Now he lay, eyes screwed shut, face contorted in agony, shuddering panting escaping his lips. His chest rose and fell rapidly; Cassuis could only imagine what kind of pain he was in right now.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Cassuis muttered lowly, still keeping his wrists pinned down with one hand. He gives no response, not that he expected one from him. Cassuis much preferred that he remained silent, unless the only reason he wanted to open his mouth was to reveal the information… or to make more of those delightful sounds of anguish. Either way is perfectly alright with him.

"So… since you aren't going to tell me the location of the girl or anything OADF, I suppose I should go pay FOB a visit then…"

"No." He answers automatically, his voice is strained.

I raised a brow, "Oh, so you are going to tell me?"

"No." He repeated, turning his head to the side to hide his face from view. Cassuis could have sworn that he saw a tiny glimmer on his cheek, but he might've just imagined it. He gave an exasperated sigh, feeling like he was talking to a young child.

"There is no third option, boy. Do not test my patience, believe me, you walk a very thin line between life and death at the moment." Cassuis growled, forcing back his simmering temper.

"So I'll ask you once again, what is your answer?"

He mumbles something too low to hear. Cassuis frown in annoyance, cocking his ear towards him, "What was that?"

"I said I'M NOT ANSWERING TO YOU!" He yelled, eyes snapping open into a fierce glare.

At once all of Cassuis's fury bursts forth; he acted immediately, unable to control himself. He was not entirely sure what happened but suddenly the dar'manda is at the other end of the room, collapsed on his side in a pitiful heap. His hands grab the blade at his side.

But his grip on the weapon is unsteady, his fists were shaking… He was trembling with rage…. and this brat was responsible for it!

Cassuis clung to the only calming thought he possessed at the moment – the soldier lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

Exhaling slowly, he managed to bring himself back to a coherent state of mind. If he acted on impulse and accidentally ended his life, he would be deprived of the sheer enjoyment he'd get out of torturing him… and that really would not be any fun at all. No… he wasn't going to kill him. At least not yet. But he wouldn't get off without punishment.

Cassuis sauntered forwards, towards him, and towards a sword lying nearby. He reached the blade first and rested his free hand on the hilt, staring at the crippled man across from him. A soft groan was heard from Luke, he pushed himself up on his forearms with some difficulty, when he raised his head he saw that a trail of blood ran from his hairline to the edge of his jaw. Luke glared directly at Cassuis to show he was still defiant, even though he looked as if he'd been to… what was it they called it? Hell? Yes Hell. Hell and back.

No, hell would have been too generous.

Cassuis almost laughed - did he not realize how pathetic he looked right now?

But he was just about tired of that spirit of his. If it was a fight he wanted, then so be it.

Something clattered to the floor in front of him and his eyes widened in surprise and puzzlement, before narrowing suspiciously. Never the less, he grabbed the sword Cassuis had thrown to him and staggered to his feet. It simply remarkable how he was able to even stand after all of the physical abuse Cassuis had put him through thus far… looks like he was a lot more durable than he thought. Especially with that leg.

He was still no threat to Cassuis in the current condition he was in, with or without his sword. He'd be surprised if he even managed to defend himself!

He faced him in a ready stance, blue eyes blazing with determination, but he looked ready to crumple. His left arm and mangled hand dangled at his side… damn, he should have broken the other hand – how funny it would have been seeing him trying to wield a sword with the hand that wasn't dominant.

But that wasn't of any real importance right now… no, right now Cassuis longed for bloodshed. And guess whose blood that would be?

Cassuis licked his lips – an odd habit he had developed – as he approached.

"Dar'manda," he hissed venomously, "I hope you know that after I'm done beating some sense into you, that FOB… is finished."

That provokes a reaction,

He bares his teeth in a grimace, eyes widening in apprehension as he drew closer, raising his own onyx coloured blade.

"Understand this now. You're nothing to me, you're scum. And I will enjoy draining every last drop of fighting spirit from your body!"

With that, Cassuis lunged.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor – likely clan Varad compound

It could hardly be called a fight.

Luke strained to turn just in time, blocking Varad's vertical strike with a horizontal one. The impact reverberated throughout the blade, he grunted, stumbling back a few feet to recover, but Varad wouldn't let him. He cried out as he felt another gash open up on the skin of his stomach, not deep enough to be fatal but at the rate he was losing blood… it definitely could turn out to be.

Several times he had tried to make a run for the door, if he could just make it to the statue outside… he wasn't exactly thinking it through, what would he do if he got out? He didn't know where he was or what forces were outside.

Then again, ones thought process is a little less than coherent when you've got a blood crazy Mandalorian mercilessly beating the life out of you.

It didn't matter anyways, each time he'd tried, Varad would move to block his path and knock him back.

Two more gashes joined the ranks, one on his arm and the other on his side. Trying to ignore how badly it hurt, he swung his sword, but he was so exhausted that even if it had hit if probably would have caused minimal damage. He barely had the energy to stand much less land a blow.

Varad danced backwards and away from him, surveying the damage he had caused to the young hero. Luke teetered on his feet slightly, but out of sheer willpower alone, remained standing. Several new lacerations riddled his upper body, cutting into previous wounds and bleeding profusely.

Again he dashed forwards, slicing and stabbing. He deepened the previous wounds that were drawn across the boy's skin like deadly art. The Marine's attempts to block the assault were weakening with each passing minute; he was becoming more and more unresponsive. Soon he was nothing but a standing target – though not standing for long.

The tip of the sword scraped against the tile, before falling from his hand. Soon after, his knees buckled, sinking to the floor with the rest of his body soon following, finally succumbing to gravity and numerous injuries. He did not move.

Through his dimming vision, he could still see the other approach. He closed his eyes – willing him to go away…

Of course Varad did no such thing.

He felt a sharp tug at his hair as his head was pulled up off the ground slightly, he grunted, clenching his teeth at the pain he was in. The demon lord got down close to his face.

"You see? Even with a sword you still have no chance of escape… if you had the capacity to, you would have done so already." He murmured, Luke didn't make any sort of retort, just stared blankly ahead. Varad shook him a bit to get his full attention.

"I've given you two days of my time and while it has been fun playing these little games with you, I believe it's time to take more… drastic measures." He gave the man a few moments to process that, before continuing, tightening his grip on the sandy blonde hair gripped in his hand, "But know this, I am not finished with you. You are mine to toy with and once I grow bored of you, I will discard you like the worthless piece of human filth you are."

His lips brushed the man's ear as he spoke in a hushed voice, "Understand me?"

Even in his position, Luke managed to give a small nod. Varad released his hold, letting the man's head fall back to the floor. The sword lay nearby; he glanced to it before looking back at Luke. He nudged Luke's hands so that they were out in front of him, overlaying each other, then he picked up the sword.

"See what has become of you now…" he muttered, plunging the blade downwards and through Luke's hand, skewering it to the floor with his own blade.

An ear-splitting scream filled the chamber, the sound sending a pleasant shiver up his spin – he was never going to tire of that. Feeling decidedly in a better mood, he stood to leave.

"I'll tell the men in the FOB you send your best regards." He gave a wink, punctuating the end of his sentence with a snap of the fingers, and then he was gone. Luke was left alone with those dreaded words ringing in his ears.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor – likely clan Varad compound

A sinister laugh echoed around him and he was roughly dragged back into consciousness, senses utterly disoriented, his heart pounding. For a moment, everything was just a jumbled mess of the confusion that comes with waking up, he didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Had he imagined that laugh? Where was he? Was he dead?

He half hoped that last one was true.

But no, he could feel his body, and it felt like it weighed a ton, like his muscles were anchored to the earth beneath him. And how he hurt, for an instant he actually thought that he might have gotten burned alive, but that was impossible considering he was still breathing. As he calmed himself, gradually, the effects of the nightmare wore off and reality took over.

It wasn't much better… he felt so utterly weak. To his dismay, his stomach was practically screaming for sustenance, when was the last time he had eaten or drank anything? He couldn't remember…

Biting the inside of his cheek he decided that he didn't even want to think about that right now.

His throat felt the worst, raw, dry, and burning like hellfire had just ripped through it – most likely the cause being a combination of screaming his lungs out and dehydration. Not one drop of moisture remained in his mouth. He tried not to let that fact cross his mind, but the harder he tried, the more he thought about it. He found that it was difficult focusing on anything else; he needed food, water, something.

With extreme difficulty, he pushed open his eyelids halfway, seeing nothing but blurry shapes and colors he immediately let them fall closed again. The stone of the wall was cool against his back and the air was considerably less dry.

Footsteps echoed off the walls of the room that he was now being held in. On instinct, he tensed and didn't move a muscle – not that he possessed the strength to.

Oh God… those footsteps were coming closer. Please leave, please leave. Then they stopped, a shadow fell over where the young hero was lying against the wall, feigning sleep.

Or playing dead. Not the last one, he thought, that could end rather painfully.

A hand gently – almost lovingly – stroked his face and he flinched, ruining whatever illusion the boy was going for.

"Rise and shine, dar'manda," that same despised voice practically sang, "I know you're awake so it's no use pretending not to be!"

Luke grimaced, trying to turn his head to the side, willing him to just back off. He was sick of this… being used like some chew toy.

"Aww… poor boy," the mandalorian said with mock sympathy, brushing the hair out of the Luke's face, "I've been thinking that perhaps I have been rather hard on you lately…"

Luke's eyes slowly fluttered open, shooting the man a tired glare, if it could even be called that. He saw those pale white lips curve up in satisfaction at the exhaustion the other was feeling, that fighting spirit was diminishing… little by little.

And Luke knew it as well.

"Oh don't give me that look!"

A snap of the fingers.

And the Luke's eyes widened. That pronounced click could only mean one thing.

More pain.

At once he cringed away, reacting on reflex and instinct, doing his best to press himself further back into the wall he leaned against. He was going to be hurt again. Clenching his eyes shut he braced himself for the imminent suffering that was about to be brought upon him.

No more… he didn't want anymore… he couldn't take it…

There was a pause – a horrible drawn out pause.

Then Varad threw his head back and laughed.

Nothing happened; Luke tentatively opened his eyes after a few moments. The man was chuckling as if he found something incredibly amusing. Why? What was so funny?

He gritted his teeth, frustrated far beyond the point of sanity. Why wouldn't Varad just get the damn punishment over with already?

It was at that point he saw that the man did not have a sword in his grasp, nor a dagger, whip or anything of the sort. No, what he held in his hand was what looked like a cup of all things. He must have looked pretty confused right then.

"Relax, I'm not going to hurt you… well, at least not now anyways. However, I'll have no choice to if you refuse to cooperate," he held up the clear chalice in front of the boy's face, the unmistakable sloshing sound of liquid inside could be heard, "but I doubt that you will…"

Water. It was water.

Luke's throat suddenly seemed to grow ten times drier as his eyes fixated on the glass. He swallowed uncomfortably, this had to be a trick… there was no way that he was just being offered water after all of this. It was poisoned, it had to be. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at it, before forcing himself to look away and trying not to think about how any liquid would sooth his agonizing thirst at the moment...

As if Varad had read his mind, he suddenly sighed in mild irritation, "It's water, only water, you have my word that it's not poisoned."

The edge of the goblet was pushed towards Luke's mouth. Using all of his self-control, he stubbornly turned his head away from it. He didn't care if the lack of hydration killed him, he was not accepting anything from his enemy, especially if it was force fed to him.

But Varad was in no mood for this. Roughly seizing his jaw, he forced him to look forward again and brought the rim of the container to his lips.

"Drink." He said sternly.

This time Luke just refused to open his mouth at all, pressing his lips together in a tight line. This got a roll of the eyes from the man, who merely reached up and pinched the boy's nose to cut off his air. Luke realized he'd lost; soon, the urge to breathe became too great. With a frown, he reluctantly opened his mouth.

Varad smirked and tilted the goblet, his throat clenching automatically around the welcomed rush of cold liquid. His eyes slowly closed, after days without water – or food for that matter – he didn't realize how badly his body needed it until now. He drank deeply and tilted his head back, suddenly finding it incredibly easy to ignore the fact that his worst enemy was watching him with growing amusement. For the moment, he didn't care, all he knew was that his thirst was blissfully depleting and bringing him the utmost relief…

And then, far too soon, the chalice was pulled away and he let out a poorly contained whine that he immediately regretted.

"Parched, are we?" Varad taunted. Oh, this was far too entertaining… he was originally just going to give the boy all of the water, but if he had been so resistant before, then why not make him work for it?

He grinned, liking that idea very much.

It appeared that Luke had regained a small fraction of his strength; he opened his mouth to speak, though it was in a raspy, barely audible voice, "I… hate you… you bastard."

It was evident that he still wanted and needed more water, but the fool was trying not to show it. Varad sighed, not the least bit surprised by the typical hard-headedness.

"You are free to hate me, I prefer it actually. But name calling… now that just hurts my feelings." Those weren't the only things Luke wanted to hurt…

"I would love to give the rest of this to you," he continued, shaking the chalice a bit and watching the boy shift in discomfort. The mandalorian had just invented a new kind of torture… "…but I'm not sure if you need it considering you've summoned the strength to throw meagre insults…"

Then he stood from his previously crouched position to leave, taking the water with him and turning his back on the young hero.

He didn't see the look of distress flash through those blue eyes but he could practically feel the desperation rolling off of the other, and he knew he was getting to him.

"Wait." It was so quiet, barely a whisper, spoken before the boy had a chance to stop himself.

Varad stopped; he'd heard it loud and clear.

Luke bit his lip, looking away, "Please…"

"Please…?"

This was way too amusing.

"Please… give me the rest of the water." He clenched his eyes shut, unable to believe what he was saying.

The mandalorian turned back with an infuriatingly smug look, "Forgetting something…?"

Luke gave him an incredulous look, "What more do you want?"

Varad turned to leave again.

Desperation got to the young hero, he dropped his head, defeated and unable to believe what he was about to say.

"Please, Varad Sir."

A few moments of silence passed, letting the horrible realization sink in that Luke was actually begging his enemy… and he was unable to stop himself. He knew how badly he needed the water, he could hardly move… how weak he was.

This was exactly what that bastard wanted… the submission of his pride.

He didn't look up when the sound of footsteps once again signalled the approach. He didn't look up when he knelt down in front of him once again. And he most definitely didn't look up to see the triumphant smirk adorned on the other's face.

Then he felt his chin caught between the man's thumb and forefinger and he was forced to tilt his head up, locking his gaze with those dark eyes devoid of any humanity.

"That's a good soldier…" Varad spoke softly, "you see how much easier it is to just cooperate? Maybe next time I'll bring you something to eat if you continue to behave yourself?"

Once again, the cup was brought to Luke's mouth and he was allowed to sip. Slowly he was fed the entire container of water, and as his thirst decreased, the mortification he felt from the whole situation increased. Physically, he felt better but Varad had left his mark on the mind, and he wasn't going to forget this anytime soon. How humiliating it all was.

He finished off the liquid, breathing heavily. Varad made the container disappear and stood up, chuckling a bit to himself.

The urge to strangle the man was almost overpowering.

He ground his teeth together in frustration, he wanted to scream, attack, throw a punch, something – his limbs weren't tied so it was certainly possible, but he knew that it wouldn't get him anywhere. The man was in complete control and had been from the moment he'd gotten captured.

Lord, he hated how helpless he was!

"Oh by the way, about that FOB of yours…"

Those works struck Luke dumb.

Oh no…

How could he have forgotten…? Had Varad actually…?

The man laughed, watching the soldier's expression, full of vexation and hate, shatter like he'd just been hit with a bombshell. Luke's eyes widened, uncomprehending and disbelieving, he glanced up at Varad as if he was searching for some sign that the man was bluffing.

"You doubt that I would actually go through with destroying that pathetic little base?"

Something was tossed to his lap. He looked down and recognized the object instantly, horror washing over him as he realized what it was.

It was a familiar looking, bloodied helmet.

Luke could only stare in complete shock at the object he held in his hands, unsure of what to think first.

This… this was a Marines helmet… a comrade… there was no mistake. No one else in the galaxy wore armor like theirs.

The FOB… Varad actually went through with… He couldn't wrap his head around it.

With shaking fingers, he turned the helmet over, feeling wetness beginning to seep from the material. Blood, and it was still fresh.

And it was a brother in arms blood.

He flung the helmet away like it had stung him, but it was still on his hands, covering his palms in red. The blood was already drying and sticking to his skin. Gripping at his hair, he hung his head as the new barrage of emotions bombarded him.

This couldn't be happening… he refused to believe this was happening. Varad could be lying for all he knew. He had to be lying.

But if he thought about it, what reason exactly would the man have to lie? This was a Varad he was dealing with; he'd probably have no qualms about murdering innocent people.

That fact sunk in slowly, excruciatingly.

It suddenly got extremely hard to draw breath. He clenched his eyes shut.

Why? Why couldn't he do anything to stop him? What exactly had he been doing while this man was free to waste an FOB? Bleeding? Dying?

Varad merely stood by and watched the scene unfold with growing satisfaction, finally the boy was starting to crumble and lose his composure. He thought he'd drive the nail in a little further…

"Not even a decent fight out of that one…" he said, observing for any sort of reaction, "him and his little friend, that other girl."

Luke visibly stiffened, but said nothing, though it told the man enough.

Varad laughed, "Ha! They didn't even put up a fight," he examined his nails with boredom, "They died like the rest, not even a worthy fighter among them."

An evil grin spread across his face. His eyes flickered from the helmet that had been tossed to the floor, then back to Luke, who still hadn't given any verbal response.

Luke didn't raise his head, he uselessly tried to block out the words that the other spoke, wishing that he would just be left alone. He didn't want to imagine what had happened to the men and women stationed there… but the images wouldn't stop. And neither would Varad.

He hated being reduced to this! He didn't understand… how was it that he'd managed to beat droids, insurgencies, soldiers' countless times before, yet now it appeared that the mandalorian really had complete control over him? The only thing keeping him alive was that small piece of knowledge he possessed; Varad could kill him anytime he wanted to. It was as if he were some… play thing that could be easily disposed of, as the sadist had put it earlier.

That fact alone sent stabs of anger through his system, the sudden rush made his head spin as the raw current of rage seized his limbs. It spread its fire all the way to the tips of his fingers where his hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles blanched. He let his arms fall to his sides.

Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his gaze up, opening his eyes into a venomous glare. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on Varad, who merely raised a brow at this. If it was even possible, the young hero's hateful stare intensified.

"Ooh, how I'm shaking!" Varad mocked, sarcasm dripping from every word, "That's quite a nasty look you've got there, dar'manda, something upsetting you?" He innocently put a finger to his lips and feigned sympathy, Luke bared his teeth, snarling in response.

"My, how intimidating," he chuckled, and then took a step towards him, "but what can you do besides shoot hateful looks at me?"

He noticed how when he drew closer, the little man would push backwards as if he were attempting to merge himself with the wall, yet he still glared daggers at the man. That expression was more than hostile, not unlike a cornered, terrified animal, ready to lash out at whatever came near it.

"Oh, that's right…" he continued, stopping a few feet from him. He then looked thoughtful for a moment before leaning down slightly and looking the younger directly in the eye, "Nothing."

He saw the wavering look flash across the boy's face before Luke and looked away. Varad knew he was getting to him.

"Do you see where defiance gets you?" Luke didn't meet his gaze as his enemy spoke to him, just continued to try and burn holes in the opposite wall with his eyes.

"So much bloodshed… all for one girl, she must be very important to you, him?"

He was sick of this, sick of the taunting, sick of whatever games he'd been forced to play.

Luke dropped his head in what Varad mistook as defeat.

"That's what I thought." A smile graced those pale lips as he said it, it would be so easy now just to break the man while he was so devastated. He drew closer once again.

Through the peripherals of Luke's vision, he saw the man get down to his level, he didn't look up. If he did, he knew that he would lose it.

But then he saw that gloved hand reaching towards his face again.

Right there, something snapped.

Heedless of whatever was left of the rational voice in his head, he threw himself forwards and knocked the somewhat startled Varad man to the floor. Not thinking, only acting, following instinct – and that instinct said that he wanted hurt.

And hurt that was not his own.

This bastard had caused him enough trouble.

Fingers easily finding the pallid skin of the other's neck, he clenched with both hands, gripping the man's throat with all of the force he could muster. The initial shock faded from Varad's eyes, darkening to a deadly calm even as the boy tried to strangle him. Then a cruel smirk spread across his face – amused, he was amused. If it was even possible, Luke's anger increased threefold and he tightened his grip.

But no, it wasn't enough; Varad hardly felt what pressure the other was trying to apply.

Reaching up slowly, he grasped both wrists belonging to Luke, and then squeezed.

Pain shot up Luke's arm and he visibly winced, the bones in his arm straining against the mandalorian's hold.

At once he tried to twist away, but it was like trying to wriggle out of iron shackles; it couldn't be done.

There was a sudden change in gravity, and then he found himself on his back with weight sitting on top of him. His eyes widened before he immediately began to thrash and struggle, which was insanely difficult considering his restricted movement – Varad had both of his arms pinned to the floor on either side of his head.

He let out an almost feral snarl, desperately trying to break free and land a hit. Punching that infuriatingly smug expression right off of the man's face sounded incredibly appealing right now. Though he saw red, his mind was white with blind fury.

Varad effortlessly straddled his hips, tilting his head to the side in a taunting manner which only fueled Luke's rage. Suddenly he grunted and then narrowed his eyes, jolting forward slightly – the marine had managed to kick him in the back of the head with all that flailing… That was really getting irritating.

Releasing one of his hands, Varad pulled his fist back and rained down a nasty blow on the Luke's upper abdomen, hearing the satisfying, choked gasp of the younger as the breath was forcefully driven from his lungs. All struggles momentarily ceased.

Luke coughed harshly, feeling like he was about to throw up. He was too disoriented to notice the snap of gloved fingers as he tried sucking in air again, but it wouldn't come and he was left gasping in agony, unable to move as he felt chains snake around his wrists and ankles. As the pain in his chest slowly lessened, his panic rose, yet he refused to show it, instead once again narrowing his eyes at the man sitting on top of him and straining against his bindings.

"Get… off…" He huffed, trying to skewer Varad with his glare.

"Tsk, tsk, you have such a temper, you naughty boy." The man chuckled, before raising his arm out to the side, "And you were being so good before… perhaps you are in need of further punishment?"

Again, he reached for a dagger, but Luke thought nothing of it – he didn't care; he was far too aggravated to care. He'd like to take that dagger and shove it straight up the mandalorian's pompous a–

Suddenly his jaw was grabbed and his head was tilted back, forcing him to look upwards at the stone ceiling. He gritted his teeth, frowning at the bizarre action. Varad's hold was firm, preventing him from twisting his head from side to side. A growing sense of unease was building in his gut, along with unexplainable panic – all he knew that he needed to break free and he needed to do it now.

With a grunt, he attempted to squirm away from the hand holding his jaw in place, but stopped himself short.

The deadly point of the dagger was ominously hovering less than an inch over his left eye.

Luke's blood ran ice cold.

The other's implied threat literally hung right over him. He didn't dare move, the breath catching in his throat as he went absolutely rigid. Gradually, his anger ebbed, taking with it the rush of temporary adrenaline and strength it had given him and leaving in its horrible wake fear and weakness that had been long overdue.

A dark smirk crossed Varad's face at seeing those blue eyes widen in apprehension - terror was such a lovely emotion when it came from other people, especially the Orionian. Ah, such power he felt with his enemy in this wonderful petrified state underneath him. How pathetic Luke was! The man was truly nothing without his strength- that and his weapons without it or them, the boy was nothing but a frail, weak, human.

Varad leaned forward slightly, speaking in a poisonous tone.

"It's almost pitiful how much you're willing to endure for her. Think about this, what has she done for you in return? Fight by your side for a week? And for what?" He paused, more for dramatic effect, not actually expecting an answer. Then he cocked his head slightly, "That hardly seems like compensation for what you're going through. You've sacrificed your comrades for her already, and now you're seriously prepared to sacrifice your own eyes?"

Luke's heart pounded wildly in his chest, he could hardly focus on what Varad was saying. Small beads of moisture formed on his forehead as he watched the dagger lower at an agonizingly slow pace. He had the sense to clench his eyes tightly shut, not that it would do anything to stop the demon lord.

'Just get it over with...'

In a way though, he knew that Varad's words held some sort of truth to them. For an instant, something flared inside him... something that wasn't entirely directed at his enemy. It was quickly chased away the next second as the point of the dagger was lightly trailed over his eyelid, fear once again taking its place.

"Hm… imagine, the last thing you'd ever see would be my face, permanently embedded into your memory…" that same voice practically purred, casual tone sending shivers up his spine. "I'm going to ask you something right now, Luke. Do you want me to do this to you? Do I really have to do this to you to get what I want?"

Luke was too stunned to respond it seemed – who in their right mind would want to get their eyes gouged out?

But Varad wouldn't settle for that.

"I asked you a question, I expect an answer." He hissed, leaning over further and narrowing his dark eyes menacingly.

A few seconds ticked by, as the silence stretched on, Varad's impatience grew. Luke had his eyes screwed shut, lips pressed firmly together to stop any sort of noise from slipping past them.

But the man wasn't one for sympathy, nor would he ever be, so Luke was given a small but sharp shake.

"Answer me!" Varad growled.

Finally, Luke opened his mouth to speak, though it was in a shaky voice, "The Fuck do you think."

Varad snarled, clearly annoyed by Luke's response. He raised his hand to slash Luke's eyes. And he would've done so had a Mandalorian not burst into the cell at that moment.

"Brother, we have a problem."

"Can't you see I'm in the middle of something!"

"I can. But a… situation, has arisen. You are needed."

"Fine. Well dar'manda, it's your lucky day today. But don't worry, I'll be back for you soon enough."

Once Varad had left, Luke crawled over to the wall where he propped himself up against. The cool surface feeling nice on his burning wounds. He thought back to what Varad had said. Why am I enduring this, it could be over so quick? Bu then he realised why. There wouldn't be a reason as to why he suffered if he did, the man would likely continue even if he told him what he wanted to know. He would have outlived his usefulness. He would be killed. As he drifted off into unconsciousness from the exhaustion. A single phrase echoed in his mind.

We are not expendable…

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, somewhere on Mandalor – likely clan Varad compound

A shiver passed through Luke's body, seizing up his muscles as a small exhale left his lips. The darkness lifted slowly, leaving him in a dreadful state of half-consciousness.

Cold… everything was cold… but not sub-zero as it had been before. A weak moan left his lips, body still in agony from the burns and lacerations inflicted upon him. He felt one last gasp constrict his throat, the remnants of the pitiful sobbing he'd done over the past several hours. His face was still wet with hopeless tears.

Weak. He was so weak.

He couldn't cry anymore even if he wanted to, he'd completely exhausted himself and was now in need of hydration again. But the idea of begging for water once more from that… that… he didn't even have a word for the monster that had done this to him, it was too much to handle at the moment.

He wanted – no, he needed to get out of here.

His blue eyes opened a crack, vision blurring as the leftovers of sleep drifted away with deliberate slowness. It was odd… there was no way he'd imagined freezing to death, the temperature had dropped below the freezing point no doubt. He'd seen his limbs turn black from the cold as it bit into him and drew him into its icy clutches. He'd felt the numb agony as it swept over him without mercy and he'd heard the mocking laughter as the scene was observed by whatever had been lurking in the shadows. Another shudder passed through his being as he remembered.

There was no way he had imagined that, right?

Yet still, he found himself able to move his fingers and curl his toes. Hesitantly, he shifted his eyesight down to his hands, breath shaking. Normal – not blackened with the skin coming off in several placed as previous visions had suggested. He felt himself let out a relieved sigh, his body wasn't rotting. Whatever that gruesome nightmare he'd just experienced had told his mind that it wasn't real, but the fear it had instilled remained. He felt sick just remembering it.

Sick and tired and helpless.

So what would he do now…? He didn't want–

Footsteps. Outside the cell.

His eyes widened briefly, before squeezing shut as he went rigid, not daring to move an inch. An all too familiar emotion creeping up on him once again: fear. Again, it was coming.

'No… no… no…' He didn't want more pain. No, he was at his limits. God, it hurt too much. No. Please no.

Something slammed against the door of the cell, the sound ricocheting around the small room and making him jump slightly. Again, another slam – something was trying to get in. Luke didn't know what and he wasn't thinking clearly enough to rationalize what it could possibly be. All he knew was that it most likely wanted to cause him more torment and he just couldn't take that at the moment. Instinct said to hide, but he hardly had the strength to accomplish that, so he just curled up in the middle of the floor and prayed for whatever was trying to enter would just leave him alone…

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Varad clan compund sub-complex holding cells.

With one final heave, Tracinya tumbled into the room as the door burst open. All was dark, not so much that she couldn't see at all, but her helmet still had to flick over to night vision.

It was surprisingly cool in here despite previous temperatures. She didn't bother questioning it; it was way too hot in this place anyway. This was best estimation of where any prisoners were being kept, and they could be right. Glancing around, she quickly spotted a shape lying down on the floor.

Tracinya approached slowly, cautiously as she drew near and took in the person's form. The person had a bloodied and torn camo shirt on; if she looked closely, she could see the raised lines of various scars and bruises. She couldn't see the person's face; he or she had their back turned. What clothing they had left was very familiar, and the dirty brown hair that spilled out on the floor was a tell-tale sign of who it was.

"Luke!" She gasped and ran forward towards her friend. A soft, pained sound was heard from him. Her stomach twisted, never before had she heard and seen him so… defeated.

She knelt down beside him, reaching her hand out to roll him over. Surprisingly, he reacted almost instantly.

Luke pushed himself away from her hurriedly – or as hurriedly as he could with the amount of injuries he'd sustained. He scooted back until he was pressed against the wall, face turned to the side and emitting small whimpers. Tracinya just stared in confusion at how her friend was acting.

"what did he do to you?" she whispered in shock.

She could see him clearly now: angry looking gashes riddled his chest and stomach as well as his upper arms. Some of them were beginning to turn a strange shade of color; possible signs of infection. His trousers were stained with blood – unquestionably his own – in various places. His wrists were wrapped in painful-looking red marks. Though his face was mostly obscured by his hair, she could still see the few bruises and cuts that had been inflicted there. It was such a horrible sight. Seeing her friend like this was just…

"Luke?" she said softly, slowly making her way towards him as he pressed himself further back. He was frightened, but why? Did he not see it was her?

Her eyes widened as she realized that could be exactly it; it was a very likely possibility that he couldn't be thinking properly and was mistaking her for someone else. A flash of anger overtook her; from what abuse had been inflicted upon him, she had a pretty good guess of who that someone was…

Pushing aside resentful thoughts for the time being, she came to the conclusion that she had to make Luke see it was her.

"Luke, It's alright! It's me, Tracinya!" She said, coming close, but not too fast, like how one would approach a scared child, "I'm not going to hurt you… I'm your friend."

Luke didn't move, but just stayed motionless in the same position, even when she was right in front of him. He still didn't look at her, just continued to try and blend with the wall. Unsure of what to do, Tracinya just remained there and watched her friend cower. Seeing her friend like this was too painful. What exactly had he done to deserve something like this? Why hadn't they come sooner?

"Please…" he spoke, so lowly that she barely heard, "don't…"

That was it. He had to see now that it was her and not Cassuis. Tracinya reached forward and gently tilted his chin up, careful to avoid the huge bruise on his jawline, her other hand brushing the hair out of his eyes. He visibly flinched but didn't move or try to get away.

His eyes were blank and dull, but fearful. Then they widened slightly, finally starting to actually see who it was.

"You… but…" he stammered, blinking and shaking his head as if coming out of some horrible daze. Tracinya gave him a small reassuring smile.

"Yes, it's me. We're here to help."

Luke seemed to process this for a few moments, complete bewilderment coming across his expression before he reached with both arms and pulled her into a tight embrace, hoping that this was rescue and not some other cruel illusion. But she felt real and she was real. His eyes burned with tears that would never come.

Tracinya hugged her friend back, but cautiously as to not agitate his injuries.

"But… you… the FOB… what?" he struggled to say, grimacing slightly. Tracinya noticed this immediately; he must be in terrible pain from his wounds.

She reached into a pouch she carried and pulled out a bottle full of bright green liquid, quickly activating it she placed it against a part of his right arm that wasn't too badly damaged, and pressed a stud that injected it into him.

"They took some heavy damage…" she explained. She winked with her next words, "But they weren't wiped off the map just yet."

"I thought you were…" his eyes drifted to the corner of the room where an object lay. Tracinya followed his gaze before spotting the O.A.G. helmet cap on the ground.

"I was, but when I heard what happened. That you went missing. I volunteered to come help rescue you."

"Why?" He grunted out as she helped him to his feet. He had to lean against her as she saw he was avoiding placing wait on his left leg.

"As I said on the ship. No one is expendable, that includes you. Now, we better get out of here,"

"There was something I had to do, but it can wait. You're right, let's go. I'm just about tired of this place…"

"I will contact the commander and tell him to call for a medivac." A mandalorian outside said, as they started out of the cell and into the dimly lit corridor. Tracinya couldn't help but notice how off something was in her friend's eyes, a hollowness there that she'd never seen before and it made her uneasy. His step would falter slightly every so often, as if he were fighting some great fatigue. She kept close by his side, frowning and wondering what he'd been through in the past days.

---

Date Unknown, Luke Sparrow, clan Varad compound.

With a gasp, Luke collapsed to his knees once again, coughing and clutching his stomach. He felt absolutely horrible. His stomach tried forcing up whatever was in it, which was nothing, so all he threw up was sickly yellow bile. He spat it out onto the tiled ground, the bitter taste it left in his mouth making him want to retch again.

Tracinya stood by, concerned for her friend's well-being. Though his physical wounds had been healed, somewhat healed, it appeared that other damages had been inflicted. They'd been making their way back to the surface, but Luke looked like he was getting worse. She rested a hand reassuringly on his shoulder as his body shook and convulsed.

Ijaat appeared by her side, "Vizsla, I am concerned. Your friend is not well."

Luke hastily drew the back of his hand across his mouth, his throat burning and desperately wishing he had some water to wash the foul taste away. "I'm well enough to get through this," he said, raising his head as something ignited in his eyes: determination. He had a chance of getting away, he could make it out of this, but he needed to move.

Forcing himself to his feet, despite the protest his body gave, he started walking forwards again with Tracinya keeping close to him. Ijaat bringing up the rear.

They proceeded, making their way through the underground compound and finally out along a staircase that led to the clan compound. For Luke, every step felt like absolute hell, he half collapsed a few times again but Tracinya helped him up.

"Tracinya… don't take this the wrong way, but when we get back to base, I might eat all the MREs." He said dryly with a small smirk as he was helped to his feet. Tracinya couldn't help but smile and shake her head at his humor in this situation. It really wasn't that funny though, he did look thinner. He must have been truly desperate to willingly eat the MREs, she had tried them once when he had offered her one, she had no idea how any soldier could eat them. They tasted like shit.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked with concern.

"I hadn't eaten a lot before base was attacked to come to this place… I really didn't think… this… would happen," Luke explained, then looked slightly sheepish, "how wrong I was…"

They soon made it to the entrance of the tunnel that led to the Varad clan compound. The walk to the exit felt like miles to Luke, but the both of them managed to get through it. They seriously hoped a medivac was nearby so they could just leave already.

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Mandalorian Medical station.

Tracinya paced back and forth, Luke had been brought in three hours ago, and the state he had been found in left her pale. He was covered in cuts and scars with broken fingers, left leg and ankle. He had only disappeared a week and a half ago when Clan Varad was still split in a civil war which had been going on since when Mand'alore Tar Mav had come into power. One half wanted continue the ways of Mavrix Varad, the previous leader during the Cold War thousands of years ago who only accepted the strong and best of his warriors, they supported Death Watch to a degree and as result also got support from them as well. The other side supported the Supercommando Codex and wanted make better future for their clan and allyed with current Mand'alor. While few in number, the supporters of the ways of Mavrix Varad had attacked and wiped out three O.A.G. bases before they were stopped. Tracinya and a battalion of other Mandalorians had attacked the clan compound that was being used by the Mavrix Varad loyalists. They were assisted by Varad clan ori'ramikad supporters trying to redeem their clans honour after the loyalists had dishonourably slaughtered the O.A.G. personnel. Ijaat Ordo and his squad were the ones to find Luke in the middle of being tortured by Cassuis Varad, a contemptable man who was notorious for his sadistic attitude and bloodlust. Her father had clashed with him many a time and from what Ijaat had told her, the man was seeking to capture her to get back at her father. This had led to the torture of her squad mate who had revealed nothing.

She turned and looked at him floating in the bacta tank. His lean frame now covered in multiple scars. One went diagonally across his chest, another was the length of his right arm. Three vertically down his back. One on his knee where it had been stabbed, the O.A.G. had managed to fix it but it would never fully recover. On top of that his leg and all his fingers on his left hand had to be broken and reset, a surprisingly difficult task as his bones appeared to be reinforced by something. He was malnourished, dehydrated and sleep deprived. Yet he had endured somehow, he truly had an unshakable will. She felt her stomach weaken looking at him in that state.

Luckily the door to the room opened and her father and a doctor walked in forcing her to avert her gaze. Her father was fully armored in his grey crusader armor. He had two scars going over his right eye that left it a milky white. His green eyes flickered over to her.

"Your friend is lucky Mrs Vizsla. Most of his wounds will fade but the scars will always be slightly visible and his knee will never fully recover, but it shouldn't prevent him in the field to any degree other than an annoyance. But we will have to wait until he gets out in two weeks' time to see if there are any mental side effects from his time… imprisoned. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other patients to tend to."

"Thank you doctor," Her father said as the doctor left. He now turned to her. " How are you holding up my little flame?" he said placing his arm around her and pulling her in for a hug.

"Buir! Don't call that, I'm not little anymore." She replied pouting.

"You'll always be my ad'ika, no matter how old or tall you are. You didn't answer my question. And don't lie."

"I… I… don't know. He seemed so strong, powerful, invincible even. He always knew what to do in any situation in the field. But to see him like this, so weak… defeated… because of what Cassuis wanted, I just don't know what to feel. I feel somewhat responsible for it. If it wasn't for me he wouldn't be in that state."

"There may be some truth in your words, however it's because of his knowledge of where you were. That is what prevented Cassuis from killing him. So indirectly you saved him from being killed even if what happened is arguably worse. I'm sure he wouldn't blame you for something you had no control over. If he's even half the man you painted him out to be, he'll pull through. It might take time, but he'll pull through. Besides I and your mother both want to meet him."

"Vor'e Buir," Tracinya said "Don't go too hard on him, he can't even beat me in hand to hand."

Jestar chuckled, "Will do."

---

Translations

dar'manda = non-mandalorian

Ad'ika = Daughter

Buir = Father/Mother

Vor'e Buir = Thanks father/mother