Author's note:
Alright. This chapter is a little longer than most, so please bear with me. The following chapter is short, and was the best I could do for now. My muse wants to move onto to a movie I've got sitting by my desk.
Thanks for reading and reviewing, she says.
The men moved through the corridors silently, not talking amongst themselves anymore. The chatter had died down some after they'd received no word from Layla for the past twenty minutes. Going down the elevator, they shuffled their feet, glancing up and down, waiting a little impatiently for their floor. Finally, the elevator came to a halt, and the party of ten moved out.
The first, and obvious leader, stepped out and looked around him. He shouldered his assault rifle snugly, and held out his free hand to his comrade. "Give me the shells." His friend, a little heavier-built than him, did as instructed. The leader opened she side panel of the rifle and inserted each shell carefully into the cartridge, one after the other. He worked quickly as each of his team moved out around him, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary. With a click, he locked the cartridge into place and beckoned for his men to gather round.
"Alright. For those of you equipped with blasters, I can't emphasize this enough: set 'em on stun. Those with trank rifles, listen up. These shells don't come cheap, so don't shoot unless you're positive you've got a clear shot. Keep the safety on at all times. Because despite these tranquilizers being meant for animals – we're talking ten ton critters here. If you have yourself a little accident, keep in mind that it'll be lights out 'fore you know you've shot yourself, and –"
A blond head poked around a muscled shoulder and addressed the man in charge. "Drek? If these tranks can knock out a Bantha, won't that kill her?"
Drek smiled. Being a mercenary for more than twenty years now, he'd gone through his fair share of partnerships, teammates and other such associations that the profession demanded. And through that, he'd encountered a broad spectrum of people. Most of them, he had to admit, were about average. But some could be downright stupid. Stupidity brought with it carelessness, and he'd sweat buckets trying to work with people on this end of the spectrum, not for their sake, but his. On the other hand, he'd encountered folks who were as shrewd as they came – always three or four steps ahead of their quarry. At which end did this fellow belong, then?
Drek stepped to a side, trying to get a better look at this chap. To his surprise, he saw a boy, most likely no more than eighteen. Yup, decided Drek, this one was sharp. And gutsy to question orders too. He decided he liked him.
"Yeah," he answered, "normally you'd assume so. But these tranks have been designed to knock you out good, not kill you. Or so I've been told. But don't let's go testing this stuff on ourselves, alright?" He saw the boy nod, contented, and continued speaking. "You kids have been briefed. You should know the layout by now; which sections we're covering. If you're unsure, now's the time."
"Hey Drek," piped out a voice from behind, "You sure it's these catacombs we're supposed to be in and not the spice bar down the road? 'Coz I was sure our maps said otherwise man,"
A soft wave of chuckles spread amongst the ten men.
Drek, too, let out a laugh before finally becoming serious. "Just stay alert, alright guys? To put it simply, if this kid knocked Layla's lights out, we've got more than just a stray cat to rope in. Got it?"
The men nodded and mumbled a chorus of yes.
"Then let's move out. Blasters, stay in front. Tranks, follow my lead and let's keep it tight. Check your corners no matter what your grandma said about ghoulies. We're going to close off every exit in this quadrant, till this cat's got no place left to go."
They moved stealthily down the wide hallway, muscles taut, ears ever-attentive and eyes peeled. Soon they made their way to the room from which they'd last heard from their comrade, Layla. Coming up on the door, Drek moved out in front, taking the lead. He motioned for the rest of his small team to stay behind, and flung the door to one side with his left hand, keeping his rifle pointed straight ahead of him. He ignored the body on the floor, proceeding to make a clean sweep of the room. He glanced up at the elevator, and muttered an obscenity under his breath. He then called out to his compatriots. "Clear!"
The nine men shuffled in, and on seeing Layla's prostrate form on the floor, built up a steady flow of chatter amongst one another.
Drek quickly intervened, now was not the time for distractions. "She's not dead, you dolts. She's got a dart sticking out of her shoulder." He moved quickly towards the elevator and punched in a series of numbers in quick succession.
"How'd she get a dart?" someone ventured.
"She got shot by the Jedi, didn't she – you dumbass." offered someone helpfully.
"I realize that," scowled the former, "I don't understand how the Jedi got the darts though...hey, this ain't the same stuff we're using, is it?"
"Shut it, Cleaver!" shouted Drek, annoyed. "Of course it isn't! This kid's on the move," he gestured for them to gather around the lift. "The elevator's heading up...can only mean we missed her by a couple of seconds."
"So we're done then?" asked someone from behind him eagerly. "If she's moved to another section, it's the other team's responsibility, innit?"
Drek clenched his jaw, trying to restrain himself from knocking the layabout across the face. "I just recalled the elevator," he said slowly, "so it's going to come back down to this floor, with the Jedi in it and intact. All you boys have to do is point, and shoot. Is that too difficult for you lot to follow?"
He looked at their faces, which had quickly gone from downcast to eager. "Just try to restrain yourselves, okay lads? Once you've got two shots in her, pull back."
As the elevator moved down steadily towards its floor, silence resumed, and only the occasional sounds of a heavy breath or a mouth chewing on spice could be heard. Finally, the damned contraption reached its destination, and its doors parted slowly, to reveal...nothing. No Jedi.
Drek, his mouth open in disbelief, moved forward cautiously, his weapon pointed upwards in case she intended to get the drop on him. But there was nothing there save for some removed paneling, and ah...that was it. A neat square hole directly above him now. Big enough for even him to fit through.
Nice move, Jedi, he thought to himself, shaking his head bemusedly.
She made her way up the shaft slowly, but steadily. She used the clamps that held the electrical wiring in place as footholds, and clung on to the thick, insulated wires to keep her from falling backwards. In between her teeth, she held the small knife. It had proved to be a good companion when she had to pry the overhead panels loose. The blaster had done the job of melting the bolts that locked them down.
Her heart had lurched along with the lift when it had stopped and begun to move downwards. There was not much else to be done really. She couldn't cut her way through the floor, and the only way out was up top.
But she was far from safe. If that lift began to move up now, chances were that it would catch her like the front of a moving speeder and sandwich her neatly between it and the roof of the shaft. Not a good way to go. Which was why she had to double her efforts to get away from it as quickly as she could.
Elori glanced over her shoulder downwards. No movement there. She looked back up, and resumed climbing.
Her hand gripped a ledge, and she quickly pulled herself up. The doors were shut, but they could be opened. They had to. She stuck her fingers in the crevice, and tugged. She heard the metal groaning, and she pulled harder... Feeling a sharp pain shoot out along her right arm, she gave an involuntary gasp, allowing for the knife to drop from her mouth – bounce against the metal wall and into the shaft below. Fingers, still trying to pry the doors apart, she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled with all her might.
There!
Peeking out from behind hesitant eyelids, she saw that the doors had parted. She stuck her hand through, her body following close behind. Somewhat awkwardly, she managed to contort herself through the narrow and stifling opening, and it wasn't long before she stood on the other side, gasping for breath.
She found herself in yet another long corridor; except it was of a better standard than the previous one. Randomly, she chose to go left, and as soon as she had made her decision, bright orange fire ripped past her ears. She craned her neck a fraction, and saw the silhouette of a person framed at the end of the hallway. Somewhat involuntarily, she turned to face her attacker, walking backwards as she did so.
They regarded each other for a second, and Elori shook her head slowly, pleading with the figure who held what was obviously some kind of large weapon.
No...
The figure raised its rifle and fired for the second time. Almost falling flat on her face, Elori spun and stumbled forward, hearing nothing but the sound of her own ragged breath. She ran wildly for what seemed like forever, knowing full well that it wasn't going to be one on one anymore. They had strength in numbers, and they knew this place. They were going to flush her out – like a rat.
And like a rat, she scrambled forward, trying every door she could – there was no time to punch in numbers, no time to swipe that damned card. She felt a something akin to a razor slash against the side of her thigh, and placed her hand quickly against it and kept on running. The hallways and corridors began to blur together like one tremendously long, barren road. Something pounded inside her head, for a split second she thought it was Yura, and that this was a trick of the mind.
No trick, though.
Inevitably, she came to a dead end and skidded to a halt. She turned around slowly, and pulled out her pistols, one in each hand. What else was there to do? Her hands trembling, she held her breath and waited. Any minute now...
A blast of air blew against her sweaty head, and she regarded the vent from which it stemmed as if this were the first time she'd seen anything like it. In a flash, she pounced on the vent grating, shooting its bolts out like they were the eyes that hunted her.
"Oh baby," she muttered to herself, as she flung herself in – feet first – down the duct.
She slid and slipped without much grace down the metal duct, and hit its wall with a sound in between a clang and a thud. Seeing light beyond her – an opening, she recognized – she crawled on her elbows and knees towards it. She kicked out the grating this time, and jumped out. Getting up quickly, and trying to take stock of these new surroundings, she found herself to be in some kind of room...filled with...cleaning droids. There was only one soft florescent light, and it cast eerie shadows across the small room. The door at the other end was shut, thank heavens, and apart from her and her little deactivated companions, she was alone, and safe for now.
Safe for now.
Suddenly it hit her. The panic touched the fear, which tagged the rage, which struck the pain. She pushed herself back up against the wall and hit her head repeatedly against it. She felt a lump welling up in her throat, and she let out a muted wail, sinking down to the floor as she did so.
Where was the Force now? She'd believed it to be returning, but it gave her no guidance in this hellhole. Everything that she'd done, every trick that broke her loose, was from her. Not from the goddamned Force. There was nothing out there to bail her out, nothing tangible, save her wits to cling to. She gazed at her feet splayed out in front of her.
I have my body. And my thoughts...and myself. And that should be enough.
Why isn't that enough?
A stifled sob suddenly tore through her body. She permitted its intrusion, which led to a succession of cries, more steady – but demanding to be released. She let them rock her body, intermittently trying to remind herself to cry softer...not so loud. But cessation had not yet come, and she had absolutely no control over the emotions that wanted to rip her sanity to shreds. A wet patch began to form over the front of her jacket, and unsightly snot emerged from her nose.
Make it stop, she pleaded, oh god...make it stop.
She stared up at the darkened ceiling, and cursed it. "What would you have me do? Break my oath to myself now too? Leave me alone, just leave me alone..."
Tired and exhausted, she allowed for her body to go limp. She sat there staring vacantly through reddened eyes before finally letting sleep throw its calming blanket over her.
TEN MONTHS AGO...
DAGOBAH
Elori stood outside of the mud hut, arms folded across each other. The rain that fell came down upon the pair in drenching sheets, soaking through each layer of clothing they had on. The almost unbearable humidity, mingled with heat, stirred in with the wet weather seemed to have no effect on the shorter of the pair.
Yura hopped busily from branch to branch of a tree outside her home, tying planks of wood attached to rope to them. Huffing and puffing, she finally descended from the gnarled trunks, and stood at the foot of the tree, grinning from ear to ear. She walked towards to Elori and patted the back of the younger woman's knee – the highest place the gnome could reach without leaping.
"Hungry, are you?" she asked.
Elori grunted. Of course she was hungry. She hadn't eaten for two bloody days. She stared at the hanging planks of wood and frowned. What new device of torture had this little being contrived this time?
"Eat you can, on completing this task." She pushed Elori gently forward.
"What do you want me to do." said Elori, in a monotone, indifferent.
Yura paid no attention, pointing with a certain degree of glee towards the tree. "Stand amidst those branches, you will. Do no stray away from the tree. Yes," spoke Yura, as Elori moved slowly to take her place. "Do not rely on the Force. Therein lies your strength."
"My head hurts." complained Elori.
"Of course it does!" exclaimed Yura as she gave an excited hop. "Empty is your belly, starved is your mind for sustenance! Desperate you have become, frantic will be your actions. Tame them. Yes. Channel your energy, as it spreads outwards in so many directions – into one. Because this is when most important, it is, for you to keep yourself. Do not become lost. For your enemies are opportunistic. Strike at you, they will, when you least expect it."
At that, a plank behind Elori's field of vision swung forward violently, hitting her squarely between the shoulders. She stumbled forward with a cry.
"Hey!" she yelled, realizing what had happened. "You said no using the Force!"
"You no use the Force! I, however, can! Rules are simple. Do not let any of your foes touch you, deflect them, if you must. But if one touches you, catches you unawares, you lose. And no dinner for you tonight. Now commence, says Yura."
Instantly, all the planks began to sway violently and unpredictably. Elori tried to leap away from them to a safer spot, but soon found out that there was no safe ground – she had set up far too many planks, and each being strapped to the tree at various heights didn't help. In the midst of her breathing and the swishing of air around her ears, she heard the small creature yell.
"No food! You want to eat? Then you fight for it!"
Her stomach let out a pathetic growl, and Elori snarled. Damn these pieces of wood. They would only stop coming if they were in splinters. And if they were out of the picture, she could eat. It was as simple as that. She spun around, driving her elbow neatly into one that swung too close to her head, and with her other arm she drove her fist through it. In the next instant, two of the boards attempted to come at her from either side, seeking to sandwich her head in between. She rolled out of the way, and pirouetted neatly on her back leg yanking the two boards down by their tethers simultaneously.
In the midst of her movements, came something else. Something different. Some would categorize them as visions, but to her, they emerged as thoughts and shaped ideas. She knew, immediately, that they were her own, but that something else had given them more realism. A pain from the past, fleshed out into the feeling of loss flashed through her mind. She barely missed an oncoming plank then. The next few thoughts that proceeded were more intense, more violent. She felt a madness that she had only experienced at end of Malachor V, and lost her grip on the present. She spun around in confusion, trying to ward off these new storms.
Calm yourself, you must, came Yura's voice. Face all your enemies, past, present and future – at the same time, is not possible. With all the training in the galaxy, this cannot be done.
But face them, one at a time, can be accomplished. Search for your goal. Be it primal, or instinctive, a goal it is. Run towards it.
What is your goal?
To get food into my stomach.
Simple. Easy. Start running.
Suddenly it was clear. The images, the desires and emotions, melted to give way to one want. But there were still hurdles to face. In the moments that followed, every physical obstacle seemed to be rushing at her at once. And unlike the times when she had command of the Force, she could not sense their movements. The only way she could twist away or sink her fist into one was if she remained calm and kept only one need in her mind. As her breathing slowed to an almost normal pace, all her senses danced together in perfect formation. The gentle brush of wind against her forearm was an indication of movement from her right. The soft sound of swathing through the air – even in this downpour – spoke to warn her of an attack from behind. Quick were her movements, which spoke of desperation tamed. There was an end. And this was her means.
Finally, when all the planks lay in splinters and shards around her, she stopped, panting. She stood there, with her legs apart and arms ready to ward off more attacks for several seconds. She knew, that if the Force was in full flow through her, she would be aware if the danger had passed. But her link to it was weak, and as per Yura's instructions, she did not dare use what little command she had.
Her body remaining still, her eyes tracked Yura's movements. The creature's ears rose briefly, and then she turned, hobbling back into her home.
Immediately, Elori was off guard, and she called out to her friend. "Hey! Where are you going?"
"To make you dinner." spoke Yura amidst the clashing of rain.
Elori's face broke out into a smile and she followed happily behind.
THE PRESENT...
When she opened her eyes, her stomach let out a tremendous rumble. Grunting, she used both her hands to prop herself up into straighter position. She stared dumbly at each of the cleaning droids, trying to gather her wits, attempting to piece this new event into its sequence. Ah yes. The ventilation duct.
Elori scratched her side unceremoniously and looked above her. The grating from the vent was gone, and lay next to her on the floor.
I say, came a voice, how long do you think it will take 'em to go through the blueprints of this building?
Blueprints?
Yes, of course. They must obviously know you squirmed your way through the duct. They're going to go back to basic schematics. This room will be in them, you know.
Oh hell...
She took in a deep breath, and spoke aloud, in an attempt to calm herself. "Come on. Come on. You wanna cry and scream and rant? You might as well make some placards and parade around out there for what that's worth. Get up, you silly little twat."
She struggled to her feet, and felt something sore on her thigh. She looked down and caught a glimpse of a deep gash through her trousers – cauterized though – because it had been singed by laser fire.
"You know," she said out loud again and looking purposefully away from the wound, "I could do with a good meal."
Something inside her suddenly smiled.
I can't deal with everything that's happened the last couple of days, sweetheart, but satiating your hunger's something I could start working on. And if that means getting out of this junk pile, then I'm all for it.
"So now we have an end," smiled Elori.
"Just think about it, will ya?" said the Twi'lek as he swerved the speeder around the sharp turn.
Wincing at Ges' rough command of the speeder, and the road, Jaq gripped his seat tightly. But his voice betrayed nothing except for a certain degree of annoyance. "Of course I have to think about it now! You practically slung me onto your back and threw me in here!"
Ges turned and winked at his friend. "Aw baby, I love it when you get feisty!"
"Now you know exactly what I mean! Hey watch it!" he yelped, as Ges barely missed another oncoming speeder.
Ges' face suddenly grew serious. "Hey man, you know I wouldn't be asking you to risk your ass if I didn't think it was important,"
"There is a considerable difference here, Ges!" exclaimed Jaq, pointing at him emphatically with his finger. "You know that if your butt was in the pan, I'd leap in and bail you out without a question. But it's not, is it? Despite all your melodrama back in my flat, all you're gonna be short of is a few thousand credits. Look at the situation from a logical perspective, dammit! Grab your gear and lay low for a while if you're so scared. In a couple months, they won't even remember your name."
"The Exchange never forgets," said Ges dramatically.
Jaq shook his head and laughed in frustration. "What the heck are you on about? You've been watching far too many action holovids. This is not your problem. You delivered the goods and it's up to them to contain it! If they lose this kid, then they don't deserve to keep him holed up."
"It's a she," corrected Ges, and then continued on hurriedly as Jaq shot him a look that told him, quite fiercely, that he really didn't give a damn. "...it's my reputation, Jaq. After that little release of information that," he cleared his throat, "saved your life in Dreshdae, I've been on the run for the past year and a half. Been trying to build myself up. It's been hard work – my name didn't carry much credibility back then."
"And it does now?" scoffed Jaq.
Ges nodded quickly. "Of course it does." he asserted. "I'm working with the Exchange! Do you have any idea what that means?"
"Utopia?" muttered Jaq with sarcasm.
"In the underground world – yes! If this thing worked out well, these guys can spread a good word about me over town. I'll be the guy people can turn to if they need something contained. I'll be dependable, reliable,"
" – you'll be loaded." added Jaq.
"Exactly." And then he turned to his friend, his eyes earnest. "Look. Let me lay it all out on the line for you. You're right – about me over-dramatizing the situation. If I were you, seated there across from me, I'd have to agree. But ever since Davik Kang got erased, rumour has it that the top dog is a little less tame, less reasonable, than his predecessor. Let's just say that this one – should something go wrong – foams at the mouth. And I sure as hell don't wanna get bitten."
Jaq shrugged his shoulders, trying to be equally earnest. "I just don't see how this little escapee is your problem!"
"It's not!" screamed Ges, finally getting angry. "But the head of the Exchange doesn't give a crap! He can't knock over his own men – you see, that's bad for business – he'll just hand me to the firing squad instead! But if I can help, if I can calm the storm..."
Jaq shook his head again and turned away, looking at the passing traffic. He wanted to leap into any one of the speeders that flashed by; it would be a whole lot easier than being part of this conversation. It made him think of things he'd rather not be thinking of. It made him unearth memories that had been buried underneath layers of dirt. Going back to it all – didn't seem to fit. Wasting his life on pazaak, alcohol and women...even that alternative seemed better. It was why he'd come here, really. No one who knew him would think to look under the Republic's nose. He wanted to spend the remainder of his life here. Even if that meant getting stoned, waking up next to someone he'd never seen before, or being found dead in his flat months after, this was comfortable...it was something he was willing to deal with. It was a way towards numbness.
Something stung his eyes, and they briefly grew moist.
Reluctantly, he looked at Ges. And when he spoke, his voice was low. Ges had to listen intently just to hear him speak. "I can't...do it. I don't think I can squeeze the trigger and watch 'em fall anymore." Jaq stopped there. There were more words he wanted to let out, to have said, but they echoed in his mind instead. A long time ago, it was just a body count, he thought. But towards the end, they began to catch up with me. They demanded my sanity, but I couldn't give it to them. It's really all I had left, see? And now, if we start this...I have to face them again. It's that simple.
Ges remained silent for a few minutes, as they made their way quickly through the traffic. Finally, just as the sun had begun to set behind them, he spoke.
"You don't have to." His voice sounded sad. "I didn't know, heck, I'm sorry Jaq. I had no idea. Let's...let's just turn this crate 'round and I'll drop you back off at your place, okay?"
Jaq quickly placed an arm on his friend's shoulder. "Wait. I know...I know that this could make you or break you. Look man, you're the damned closest thing to a friend I've got." He sighed and leaned into the speeder's upholstery. "Tell ya what. I'll help them find her. But that's as far as I'm willing to go."
Ges' eyes lit up, but his voice remained calm. "You're sure about this?"
He nodded. "I don't want to wake up to news of a robbery gone wrong and see your disfigured face on the news. Could ruin my winning streak." And then he narrowed his eyes. "But I won't sign no contract, and I bloody will not be held responsible if she slips her head out of the noose."
Ges grinned. "Buddy. If you're the one who's tracking her down, she's the one with a problem."
Jaq said nothing.
The pair were escorted into a large, oval room. Its floor was covered with a dirty blue training mat. Along parts of the wall, lay rusted metal bars and thin, worn ropes. It was an underused gymnasium of sorts, and Jaq guessed that this bunch did not do much contorting. His boots squeaked softly over the mat, and he took his place with Ges alongside about seven or eight men.
Each of them shouldered some heavy duty rifles, but judging from the way they shuffled about and handled these weapons, Jaq doubted that they knew the ins and outs of operating this kind of weaponry. They packed a powerful punch, sure, but they were bulky, crude and cranky when it came to being reloaded. The jolt one could received from one of these babies after firing – if misloaded especially – was liable to land you flat on your back. Personally, Jaq preferred something light and dependable; he'd rather a good blaster at his side than ten of those giant misfiring vegetables.
One of the men stepped forward on seeing Ges. He sported more than an average ten o' clock shadow, and dark patches adorned the area underneath his grey eyes. He seemed tired and worn, and his dirty blond hair had obviously seen better days. Perhaps he'd underestimated this lot, Jaq thought. This chap looked a little more experienced, and slightly less anticipatory of action than most of his comrades. Smart fellow.
"You the guy come down here to help sort this out?" he spoke, addressing Ges. His voice was low, and a little raspy.
"Yeah...yeah, I uh...helped arranged the transport from Corellia to here. Who am I gonna be working with?"
"Keelan," the man said, offering his hand. "I understand you've been doing this kinda thing for a while."
Ges regarded him blankly for a moment, and then snapped in reality with a grin. "Oh! No, no, that's not my specialty," Jaq winced inwardly as Ges spoke. "My companion here. He's the one you want."
Keelan shifted his gaze from Ges to Jaq, and looked back and forth from the pair. You've got to be shittin' me, thought Keelan. Has this pup even been weaned? With an awkward attempt at politeness, he offered Jaq his hand. "Well. I guess I'm not much of a judge of character am I? I sure hope you're as good your friend here claims."
Jaq flashed a quick, phony smile.
Ges rubbed his hands together, "Right! Let's get down to it then, eh?"
A slow anger began to simmer underneath Jaq's chest, and he wondered if he'd made the right choice. And then he pushed the doubt to one side. He was here and the best thing now was to get it finished as soon as possible. In five hours time he wanted to be back at the cantina with a deck in his hands, and credits soon to be his on the table.
Keelan gestured Jaq to a small table in the corner of the room. On it, lay several empty bottles. He roughly moved the bottles to one side, some clattered to the mat and rolled away. He pulled out a disk from the inside of his jacket and put it on the table. From his pocket, he fished out a tacky-looking datapad.
"Alright, kid. Load that map onto that datapad, and keep it on you at all times. This place can be a bloody maze when it wants to, and the last thing you want to be is as lost as that Jedi."
Jaq raised his eyebrows. This bloke thought he had him all figured out. He'd obviously had him pinned as some kind of rookie in this business, and had decided that he would be doing most of the explaining and directing. Not that he was stuffed with feathers of his own ego either, he just seemed tired. And more likely than not, he wasn't too happy at the thought of having one more inexperienced chick to join the flock. Quickly, Jaq decided that he'd have to relieve the fellow of his woes.
"Thanks. But I'm going to need the blueprints of this place too. And we're going to need some tranks, gas masks, gas mines, and more blasters and fewer rifles. Especially if you want to get this bitch alive."
Keelan regarded the younger man in a new light. He spoke slower, and with a little more respect. "We're working on the blueprints right now... But we've got some gas mines and gas grenades –"
" – no grenades," interrupted Jaq, "grenades give off too much sound and they're kind of messy to deal with. Are your boys trained in demolitions? Last thing we want is to take them down with the Jedi,"
Keelan smiled slowly, a little relieved. Maybe he didn't need to hold the leash on this kid after all. "Yeah. They're good with 'em. It's just that catching Jedi isn't their specialty. Like your friend said."
"Well, that's why I'm here." Jaq let out a breath. "Right. Before we get ahead of ourselves, I'll need to know a little more about your prisoner. How long has she been in here?"
"'Bout three months now. Nearly."
"How often have you fed her?"
Keelan looked to a side, thinking. "Once every two days. Bare minimum really, to keep her under control. She's been getting plenty of water though. Why'd you ask?"
"If she's bordering in starvation, she can be really weak or really insane. Had any problems with her before?"
Keelan shook his head. "Only seen her about five times. The boys have seen her more often – y'know. But no, she's behaved fine, bit moody – but can you blame her really?"
"She ever tried to use Jedi mind tricks? Or anything like it?" asked Jaq, his mind rapidly processing this information.
"No. Come to think of it, she's never tried anything like it."
Jaq paused in contemplation. This was a little strange. He made a mental note of it, and continued. "You think she snapped? Lost it when she broke out?"
"It would appear that way. She torched one of our little dungeon rooms completely. Took out one man, we think. But she didn't kill one of the mercs, though..."
That sounded more like a Jedi, but something still didn't fit. "You ever talked with her? She ever talked with you? Tried to reason with you?"
"Hell no," breathed out Keelan. "She'll either grunt or give me monosyllabic answers. But I'll tell you one thing," Jaq's eyes perked up as he spoke, "when you're in there with her...her eyes – they'll follow you everywhere. Was kinda creepy really. That first time, she'd been restrained – didn't put up a fight either, mind you – we put her in a room, and I swear it...as beaten down as she seemed, she was watching me like a black adder. Next few times I went to see her, I made sure I only stayed as long as I needed to."
"Really." said Jaq.
Keelan nodded. "Yeah. You just watch it with her. Most targets, they behave predictably more often than not. It just doesn't seem to be that way this time."
Indeed. If this was the case, it looked like he might make it to the cantina later than he'd thought. And he anticipated that this wasn't going to be easy. Jaq scratched his chin thoughtfully. Keelan didn't seem like a man who got easily spooked, so maybe he had good reason to be. Or maybe he was just exhausted, and paranoia was a result of it. He sighed and reminded himself: the sooner we get cracking, the sooner we can get home.
In the semi-darkness, she made her way towards the neatly lined up cleaning droids. Pistols were great if she was aiming to go out in a blaze of glory, but getting killed like one of those action heroes in holovids wasn't her intention. She pried open one of the panels on a droid and peered in. Hooked up to some tubing were two large canisters of cleaning fluid. Carefully, she unscrewed them from their position and pulled them out to have a better look under the light. Squinting, her eyes quickly scanned the listed ingredients.
Tripdazole, DZA, Plutonium-blue, Xanitol, water... Warning: Corrosive, only use as directed. Can cause excess mucosal secretion and respiratory problems if misused. Store at room temperature and away from heat. Flammability grade: D.
Elori sighed. Damn thing was too fire proof to use. But before she chucked the canister away, a word played quietly across her mind, and she snapped her fingers rapidly to recall its origins.
"Tripdazole, tripdazole," she mouthed quietly, "where d'you come from you little blighter?" And then with a jolt, her memory fell into place. It was a conversation she had a long time ago with a tech as they waited for a shuttle, during the wars, before everything...
"You know, in training, they teach you all this shit – and about how you're supposed to handle everything with some TLC or get your hands blown up. One thing they never tell ya is how dangerous some things are in the everyday household items you use. I mean, they're not gonna blow up on sight, mind you. But given the right catalyst, they can prove to be pretty nasty buggers. For example: there's a common ingredient in floor cleaners – trip...tripdazole, I think. It's not flammable or nothing, but if you oxidize a good sized portion of it – give it a little spark to get things going – it slowly releases a gas than can get you spewing your lunch from here to Deralia. It won't kill you, but it'll give you retching pains like you've never known..."
Elori couldn't help but smile. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, she chastised. If we go down with this damned thing, it'll all be a waste. So. First thing we need is a gas mask. Cleaning droids didn't need masks. But what about janitors? Living, breathing janitors? She glanced around the room and caught sight of a locker. In her eagerness to get to it, she stumbled slightly. It gave a rusty squeak as it opened, and she reached in and pulled out several items. Cleaning suit. Didn't need that. Boots. Nope. Goggles? Could be useful. She slung them around her neck.
And there they were. They were worth more to her now than a damned Sapith lightsaber crystal. Two dirty, dusty, gas masks.
Every thing else was going to be a cinch. All she had to do now was grab all the canisters, open them slightly and place them in the venting duct. With a spark from one of the droids' rechargeable batteries, she could take her leave off matters and let the breeze blow. She hoped those boys out there would be taking deep breaths.
Involuntarily, she let out a little laugh of glee. Before she rolled up her sleeves and got started, she looked up at the ceiling, and to no one in particular she mouthed a silent thank you.
Jaq walked down the room with Keelan, talking as they moved.
"Don't bother switching to another frequency. If she's got the same radio as you guys do, she'll scan each channel. So just stick with radio silence or comm. links if you've got 'em." said Jaq. "How're we doing with the blueprints?"
"Not so good. She went down a venting duct last time we saw her, and they don't know where that leads."
Jaq shook his head, disappointed. "We need those layouts, Keelan."
"I know, I know. I'll tell them again."
"Okay. Only thing we can do now is to flood the venting system with gas. But we need to do this quick, we need to build up the pressure here. Has everyone got their breathers on them? We need to get started."
"I'll check with Drek." Keelan moved to one side and activated his comm. link.
Jaq stood away from him patiently. Things were not going as smoothly as he'd planned. Due to lack of proper communication, everything was working slowly, like a jammed engine. He drummed his fingers lightly against the holster that held his blaster. He paused, sniffing the air. Something, ever-so-slight, wafted into his nose. It smelt acrid, and the more breaths he took, the more nauseous he felt. Jaq glanced at Keelan, who'd apparently noticed it as well.
He walked quickly over to Keelan and yanked his shoulder. "Tell 'em not to start pumping it yet! We need gas masks!"
Keelan, looking a little green, spoke into the comm. link, his hand covering his nose and mouth. "Drek! Shut off the gas!" And then after a few seconds, he looked back up at Jaq with alarm in his eyes. "It's not them, Jaq,"
"What?" coughed Jaq.
"It's not them! They haven't even set up the gas yet!" Keelan turned around quickly and bent over. "Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick," With that, a spurt of partially digested food flew from his mouth.
Jaq turned away from the sight with a grimace, afraid that he'd soon do the same.
What the hell was happening?
He ran down the emergency stairwell, a rag covering his mouth like a child dressed up as a bandit. It was the closest thing to a gas mask he had. But unlike the other mercs, he could tolerate a little gas better than they could. It was something he'd been trained to do really, and he had to admit that it did come in handy. Especially during moments like these.
He had Keelan's comm. link with him, and through it, the other fellow, Drek, had informed him that the Jedi had been sighted going into one of the large briefing rooms south of where he was. If the Jedi was truly there, then she was only a few minutes away from the exit that led to the big, beautiful world outside. It was his job to make sure she didn't breathe the fresh air again.
He pulled out his comm. link as he ran, and demanded to be put through the Ges. On hearing his friend's voice, he spoke quickly. "Listen up, buddy, I need you to get down to sub-level twelve. Yeah, yeah, I know you feel like shit! Do it anyway! You have a blaster? Great," he panted, "Listen...use your map. Don't go anywhere near the large room. Just stand guard by the exit. She's going to be moving around there. If you see her, aim for the knees. Then the shoulders. I know she's worth a lot!" shouted Jaq, "That's why you immobilize her first you idiot! I'll be there in a bit. Just don't move, okay?"
He skipped the last four stairs, landing on the floor with a thud, and jammed the comm. link into his pocket.
From there, he made his way into the briefing room.
The door slide open with a soft hiss. He entered the room cautiously, swallowing back the nausea that kept on building up. He surveyed his surroundings slowly. The center podium was right at the bottom of the room, and it was surrounded by a circular array of seats, each at a different level. The lights in the room were set on dim, casting everything in a soft blue hue. He knew there should be a panel somewhere to adjust the lighting, but perhaps this was best. If she didn't know already, turning up the brightness would only alert her to his presence.
He pulled his blaster, the only trustworthy friend at this moment. If he'd had more time, he could have come armed with some tranquilizers, even a knife or two, but whatever had happened in the last few minutes had caught everyone off guard.
And he didn't like being taken unawares.
He moved carefully to his right, treading softly even on the carpet, as he scanned the room for any trace of movement. That was when he heard it. It was a little faint at first, but the unmistakable raspy sound of air moving through a purifier echoed in his ears like music.
He moved deftly in between rows of empty seats, and saw a darkened shape from where the noise stemmed. Pointing his blaster ahead of him, he edged closer and saw the slumped form's shoulders. Quickly he let out two shots, and watched as the body jolted backwards. The raspy breathing continued, but something wasn't right.
What wasn't right?
Her breathing rate remained normal.
In the next instant, he was yanked backwards by his hair, and felt something sharp knee him in his lower back. With a groan he let his blaster clink against the metal seating and fall away from him. But he spun around, refusing to hit the floor. He instinctively reached for a limb of his attacker and managed to grab a long, thin arm. He wrenched it violently, and to his satisfaction, he heard the yelp of his attacker, followed by the clatter of something else hitting the carpet.
He turned to face the Jedi, knowing that it couldn't be anyone else, and let loose a swinging punch that cut cleanly through the air as she leapt away, and into the next row of seats below. He saw her move awkwardly clutching her arm – with no use of the Force – amidst the seating. She had on a large pair of goggles and a ridiculous gas mask, although it obviously served its purpose. In the eerie blue lighting she looked like a skinny Rodian thug. Who was that chap he shot before, then, wondered Jaq? Someone she knocked out?
Never mind that, he reminded himself, our dear lady's making her way towards the exit near that podium.
He leapt through the rows with more grace, quickly catching up with her. Throwing caution to the wind, he jumped on her, and she fell forward, hitting her forehead on the top edge of a seat. In the small space, he struggled hard to get up first, and felt the pain of his quarry. In a dark corner of his mind, he felt immense satisfaction in knowing he'd caused her this hurt, and quickly put an arm around her neck, grabbing her in a tight headlock.
Her gasps came out loud through the mask, and with his free hand, he yanked it from her face. Yeah kid, that's it, breath in that nice air...
He held on fast, waiting her to fight him with her good hand. But she didn't. In the next instant, he found out why. Something sharp sunk itself deep into his shoulder and he could do nothing but let go. She let out a primal yell, shaking him loose, falling over the pews as she made her way forward.
Something inside of him let itself out, and all he could see in that damned room was her. Yanking out the rusted nail in his shoulder, he leapt forward. Just ten more rows and she would be down. Technically, there was little chance of her winning. He knew that Ges would do as instructed, and he would be waiting for her by the exit. But that wasn't good enough for him. He'd never let anyone get away like this before. She wasn't acting as the others had.
She was fighting for her life, and she obviously didn't give a damn who she took down with her.
Summoning the energy he needed, he scrambled after her, gaining on her yet again. Once she'd hit the floor, he dove, reaching out for her legs. She crashed forward – he heard her teeth clatter together with the impact. She flailed her foot backwards in his direction, catching him near his eye and then spun onto her back to deliver more blows his way.
In the midst of the quick movement, he caught a glimpse of a bloodied face, and a pair of wild eyes. He'd seen them before somewhere. To be honest, they reminded him of his own, once, very long ago. And he had been angry then, so full of anger. So was this bitch. He could fry an egg on her head if he could immobilize her, of that, he was certain.
Time for that then. He narrowed his eyes and drove his elbow hard into her exposed throat. He felt skin touch skin, and waited. She let out a hefty wheeze and turned to one side, bringing her knees up to her chest.
Man, he thought, that had to hurt.
He yanked her hair back. There will be no dignity for you, sweetheart. Then he saw her face and his heart leapt into his mouth.
From a buried memory in the back of his mind emerged a name.
Elori.
How? Here?
He stumbled backwards, gasping for breath.
She remained there, still conscious. She hadn't noticed him yet. Her breaths came out raspier than they had through the damned gas mask. She squirmed for a few seconds before she turned to look at him.
Eyes as wide as his now.
The spark of recognition.
She managed to get herself into a seating position. He stared at the red welt forming around her throat, and watched her move backwards on her hands and legs...scrambling away from him.
"No," he said slowly.
"You." she croaked, no voice, just a wheezing sound.
He shook his head and held his hand up. That only caused her to move away faster, and before long, she staggered to her feet. She edged her way around the podium and closer to the exit.
"Elori, wait," he managed to mutter.
She kept her eyes fixed on him, continuing to move.
"I didn't know – I had no idea...you. That it was you. I didn't –" he kept speaking. Get it together, dumbass! He pointed towards the exit and spoke calmly now. "There's a man, waiting by the exit for you. If you walk out there now – he's going to shoot you."
Her eyes spoke volumes that her voice couldn't.
She was up against the wall now, and she slid slowly towards the door.
"Elori, you can't bloody get out of here without my help!" he yelled. She stopped moving.
A beat.
"And why," she rasped finally, panting, "Should I believe you?"
"Because, if you're anything like I am, then you know I'm your only ticket out of here. Let your pride be damned."
"You did this," she hissed.
He shook his head. "No. No I didn't. I had no idea. The only reason I came down here is to help someone. If he didn't get you back in your cell, he'd be a bloodied mess by now,"
"Your loyalty and my identity aside," she whispered, "this is still a pretty shitty way to do someone over."
"I was wrong," he nodded quickly. "I know that now. Look. We don't have much time." He looked over his shoulder, up towards the entrance, and then back at her. "And you don't have much of a choice."
She looked away from him, considering something. When she looked back at him, despite her obvious anger, there was something else that spoke out. "If this is a trap, damn you to hell."
They moved quickly through empty rooms, towards the exit. He'd have offered to help her walk, but he knew that she would have rather crawled on one leg than have him as her crutch. Having him help her get this far was obvious pain enough.
He opened a door, and they entered another corridor, at the end of which, stood Ges. He raised his blaster, but on seeing Jaq, immediately lowered it. As the pair neared him, Ges raised it again and stared at Elori, flabbergasted.
"No questions, Ges, no questions. Open that damn door." Jaq grabbed the blaster out of Ges' limp hand.
Swallowing nervously, Ges whimpered. "Jaq, dear friend, Jaq, what've they drugged you with?"
"You got in here with your voice. Now get us out." spoke Jaq slowly.
"Jedi mind tricks," whispered Ges.
Jaq slapped his friend on his cheek with the back of his hand. "Snap out of it buddy! Do I sound like I've been brainwashed?"
Ges blinked up at him. "They're coming Jaq. Three units. What the hell are you doing?"
"Speak the damned code!" yelled Jaq and Elori at him in unison.
Ges turned around slowly in a daze, and spoke into a panel near him. The heavy door creaked open and the trio stumbled into an elevator.
When it opened, Elori stepped out first, breathing heavily, not out of exhaustion but disbelief.
She walked forward slowly and looked around her. The stars twinkled down at them cheerfully, and wisps of purple clouds, lit up by Alderaan's amazing city, streaked the night sky.
It was a beautiful night.