He was less than a dozen steps down the hall from where Wil and Max had parted ways, and Wil already knew he and his droid companion Bex were headed in the right direction. Pained, agonized, familiar screams echoed through the station's barren corridors, becoming louder and clearer the further they trekked, but Wil didn't think he could stomach it much longer. His father was being tortured, extensively, as Max had predicted, painfully wrenching his chest in a tight, anguished grip. How desperately he wanted to charge ahead and blast his way through his father's captors, sparing him further pain, but...doing that would certainly raise alarms and would risk Master Natiyr's safety, too, wherever she was being held. He had to be patient, then, calling on his last reserves of focus and willpower to keep him alert and on task.
Bex rounded each corner they came to first, carefully scanning ahead for any unexpected guards or obstacles, but each hall in the sprawling station was just as empty as the last. He couldn't afford to lower his guard at all, though, having gone into this rescue completely blind and unprepared. Bex had a navigational map stored in his circuits that he was using to direct them toward Horatio, but it wouldn't warn them of any oncoming hostiles, and it didn't tell him much about the station beyond its basic structure. What kind of security systems did it have? Was there an integrated containment response? If any escape pods still remained in the century-old station, would they even work? So many unknowns put him on edge, but still he forged ahead with a firm hold on his raised blaster, hoping the Force was on their side. It hadn't steered him wrong yet, and perhaps it alone was the reason he had survived his grievous injury just days ago, a wound that had worried even an incredibly experienced Master Healer...
Finally hearing clear voices ahead, Wil slowed to a halt as his father's cries diminished into weak, desperate gasps when the torture paused, and thankfully Bex, too, stopped at his side without a command. An old, raspy female voice floated above the sound of crackling electricity on standby, faint at first but stronger the longer she went unanswered.
"It is only fair, Horatio," the woman challenged him. "You took my future from me...so it's my turn to take yours. You will tell me. Eventually. To make the pain stop."
The woman's threat sent shards of ice through Wil's veins as his chest tightened even more. She was torturing his father to make him tell her where his children were?
Horatio's voice was very nearly broken, interrupted by pained breaths. "Do whatever you want...to me... I don't care. I deserve it. But I will never...never tell you...where they are."
Carefully closing the distance between himself and the voices, Wil peered around another corner and found the hall that Max had pointed out to him earlier, somewhat surprised that the door to the interrogation room had been left completely open to the rest of the complex. It was a show for all to hear.
"Well, this isn't any fun if you actually enjoy it," she sighed. "But no matter. Even if you do outlast my punishment, I'll get the information I need from the Guild. I do have control of their network, now that I possess the Guildmaster's commlink. So it'll only be a matter of time either way." She paused, but just briefly. "Again."
Wil hardly had the chance to brace himself for the scream that pierced his ears and tore at him as the sound of the electric shocks ramped up, physically affecting him as though he were experiencing his father's torture alongside him. He had once before endured far worse himself at the hands of a deranged Dark Jedi, and though long and deeply buried, the memories of that encounter began to surface. He even heard the old woman's terrible laughter over the crackling bolts of energy, and it mercilessly paralyzed him in place with fear and unbearable pain, unable to think or move or breathe...
...until Bex rolled out from behind him and into the room, instantly snapping Wil out of his state. Alarmed, he desperately reached out for the droid to stop him, but Bex disappeared inside just as the electricity cut off, leaving Horatio breathless as he struggled to recover. Hopefully all attention remained on their defeated captive, leaving an orange-paneled astromech unnoticed in the room's periphery and Wil just outside, exposed in the hall. Had the droid come up with some kind of crazy plan?
An important beep echoed about the room, preceding a frantic transmission. "Admiral Azira, the crates that were in the main hangar, ready for transport... They're gone."
"Gone? What do you mean, gone? They haven't been sent out yet. Those crates are going to the Guild."
"They must have been taken by another hauler by mistake, then. There's nothing left in the hangar."
"No ship should have arrived or left in the past rotation."
A tense, telling silence stretched on... "Ankru cleared a tibanna shipment to offload about two hours ago."
Even from outside the room, Wil could hear Azira's fists clenching with fury. "Search every ship in that hangar. And increase the number of guards on the Jedi. No one is getting off my station, no one."
"Right away, Admiral."
Wil's pulse was racing and pounding in his ears. Their escape had just become exponentially more difficult.
"I'll be back to finish with you," Azira addressed Horatio tersely. "Whoever's come to rescue you or to steal from me...they've made their last mistake."
Horatio could hardly be heard. "No one...would come for me..."
Azira scoffed as she walked away, nearing Wil in the hallway. "We'll see about that. Keep at it, Qrof, until he can't scream anymore."
Panicked, Wil managed to turn and duck into a dark alcove in the room next door. He was only just able to evade Azira's and her Trandoshan lieutenant's gazes as they marched with purpose towards the hangar, leaving Horatio's torture to continue behind them. His father's agony resumed, but Wil had to intervene, now, somehow; he could hear that Horatio was running out of time. Watching the hall for a long moment to be sure Azira wouldn't return, Wil pressed his body against the room's exterior wall, slowly edging his gaze around the entry to finally look into the room, and it appeared just as he imagined it would.
Horatio was secured to an angled, upright durasteel table in the center of the room, restraints at his wrists, his waist, and his ankles. Blue-white electric bolts continued to sadistically dance across Horatio's body from two spindly probes positioned just centimeters above his chest, twisting and contracting his muscles as they delivered their intended damage. His torturer Qrof, a brutally scarred Ithorian, stood at the controls with his back to the doorway, making only slow, lumbering movements as he powered down the probes for a lengthy minute of respite. Wil held his breath, watching the strength leave his father with each struggling gasp, and the elder Sheridan even seemed to lose consciousness as his body began to shut down. Qrof noticed his slump, too, and moved to resume the torture, reaching up to the controls without urgency.
A moment of desperate spontaneity gripped Wil, his heart suddenly daring him to launch himself at the Ithorian. Could he wrestle and quickly defeat the larger alien before he could injure his father further? Just days ago, he'd very nearly beaten a skilled hunter in the pitch black of night, armed with nothing but his bare hands and a fierce determination to protect his sister. A painfully slow opponent he'd caught by surprise would be even less of a challenge, right? So why wouldn't his legs carry him forward?
Qrof's long fingers pressed the button, but instead of a flurry of electricity firing up...nothing happened. Briefly stunned himself, Qrof pressed it again, and again, adjusted the controls a handful of times, all to no avail. Something had disabled the system, and searching for answers, too, Wil looked all about - and spotted the culprit in the far, darkened corner of the room. Bex had somehow managed to make his way to an access panel along the wall without anyone noticing, turning his scomp link around to maintain control of the room. Bex's dome carefully swiveled to meet Wil's gaze a moment before he began to faintly turn it back and forth...was he directing Wil away?
Inexplicably understanding the droid's command, Wil backed out into the hall just as the door swept closed in his face. Despite his shock, he retreated to the same alcove just beside the room, hearing the door repeatedly open and close and open again at random intervals. Bex was making the room's wiring appear quite faulty; what a crafty little droid...
Qrof's voice modulator could be heard approaching the hall as the door continued to open and close. "Was there a power surge again? I've lost my controls up here."
"Production's been halted," an equally digital voice returned from a comm. "No surges from assembly. The topside generator is as old as this station, though. Maybe it's failing."
"Isn't that where Azira is keeping that Jedi?"
"Yeah, so?"
Bex held the doors wide open, allowing Qrof to finally build up the courage to cross the threshold into the hallway and leave the room. Once the Ithorian had stepped far enough away, Bex continued the random closing, sending him on without even looking back. "...I didn't sign up to die in this place. Azira can't handle all this. I'm out."
Qrof continued to argue with his commlink as he disappeared down the hallway, but Wil hardly waited a second longer once the Ithorian was out of earshot. He returned and stood before the sporadic doors, giving Bex inside an expectant look, and the droid opened and closed the doors one last time for good measure before leaving them wide open once more. He sprinted toward the center of the room, reaching a shaky hand up to his father's neck in search of a pulse. Only just able to find it when Horatio's head turned against his hand, the rush of relief he felt lasted a fleeting moment as he noticed how incredibly weak Horatio's breathing was, too. He had been completely drained by his torture, but Wil was no less determined to save him.
"Dad? Dad, can you hear me?" With his hand gently against the side of Horatio's face, he kept his father's gaze on him as his eyes slowly opened. "It's me... It's Wil. I'm right here."
They searched each other's eyes for a long moment, the silence broken only by Horatio's frail gasps. The last time they had seen each other, in the heavy midnight rainstorm outside Horatio's Dantooine home, they had both been bleeding out, each afraid of the other dying as they watched. So much pain and fear and regret in their gazes alone communicated what they couldn't say aloud to each other, but Horatio began to appear more alarmed as the seconds wore on.
"Wil," he breathed, faintly shaking his head. "No... Go..."
Unsure what he meant, Wil earnestly gripped his hand at his side. "Yeah, we're going to go. I'm going to get you out of here. Bex," he called to the droid still at the access panel, "can you release the restraints from there?"
But Horatio continued to deny him, somehow finding his strength. "No, you...you have to go. Leave me..." His voice broke with emotion a second time, though. "Don't let her see you, she'll kill you..."
Wil's chest tightened as he recognized his father's only concern. Even with the promise of freedom, he instead worried more for his son's safety rather than his own. "Dad... It's going to be okay. I'm here with Max, and Bex and Phantom, and when Max finds Master Natiyr, we'll all go home. Alright?"
"No, you have to go..."
"Dad," Wil spoke with emphasis on every word, meeting his gaze squarely, "...I'm not going anywhere without you. Not this time."
The full meaning of his words took time to sink in, but Horatio eventually relented, his head falling forward as his emotions overwhelmed him. He had left Wil behind months ago, intentionally relocating to Dantooine without him, and disaster had only followed them since. They were stronger together, Wil was desperate to make him realize, no matter how much trouble and pain Horatio thought he was sparing his son. They could help each other, and they needed each other, now more than ever, and maybe Horatio would finally understand that.
Without any fanfare, the restraints popped open at Bex's command, and Wil quickly pulled Horatio's arm across his shoulders, prepared to bear his full weight to begin their escape. Horatio hesitated to move much, his other hand finding his wounded side before he took small, shaky steps away from the torture table. Though his legs threatened to give out from under him, Wil leaned more of him onto his hip, taking his larger frame in stride. A deep, fiery pain slowly radiated through Wil's chest the more he strained with his father's weight, but he pushed through it with every step. He looked over at the droid in the corner, still attached to the access panel, and though he was about to beckon him to them, a sudden idea struck him.
"Bex, can you still control their systems?"
The droid answered with a positive, shrill whistle that Wil had to assume meant yes. "Lock down everything below the hangar. Give us, and Max and Master Natiyr, as clear of a path as you can. Can you do that?"
Bex fired off a string of beeps and chirps that was far more complex than a yes or no, leaving Wil at a disappointing loss. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying, buddy..."
"He said...Max already has Mand...in the hangar..."
Surprised, Wil glanced sideways at his father. "...you speak droid?"
Horatio managed to nod. "Had to learn... All the shipping...Liaa and I have been involved in...since we moved..."
Wil had to grin. At least something good had come out of all the struggles they'd faced.
"Wil," Horatio's strength had diminished again, "...I'm sorry...I'm so...so sorry...for everything..."
"I know," he gracefully accepted, meeting his father's gaze with meaning and a wan smile once more. Liaa had told him the apology was coming, but it still meant more to hear it from Horatio himself than Wil could say. "Come on," he tugged Horatio's arm more tightly around his shoulders. "Let's get you and Master Natiyr home."
