A.N. There's a section from K2's perspective... I wanted to try it, but it was really difficult to keep it droid-y and not too human-y. I don't think I was entirely successful, but oh well.
Disclaimer: I still own nothing ;_;
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Ten minutes later, they make their way out of the room and down the hallways towards a nearby hangar where Cassian hopes to hijack a ship. They are an imposing pair, for all appearances a Deathtrooper and a seven-foot-one Imperial security droid. As they make their way, Cassian mulls over the fact that he has more in common with the droid than he initially thought: though their current outwards appearances indicate otherwise, neither of them supports the Empire, both desire to escape it, they both have a sharp tongue—figuratively, in Kay's case—and quick wit, and strangely enough, their right arms are both "broken." Cassian wonders if it's a sign—of what, he's not sure—but immediately dismisses the idea as a mere coincidence. He doesn't believe the Force watches over him—or over anyone else, for that matter—because he's never had the luxury of trusting the fate of the galaxy to something so untouchable. And yet... a tiny voice in the back of his mind, a part of him that still retains hope and optimism and has been left untainted by grueling conflict and loss, that part whispers maybe, just maybe, the Force has a hand in his meeting with the Imperial droid. Internally, he groans at the unintended pun of "hand," glad he hadn't voiced it aloud because he's sure Kay would have seized on it and used it as more proof that Cassian has terrible taste.
He pulls his mind from pointless thoughts of the Force and listens as the alert still wails throughout the halls. They pass various personnel going about their various duties—including continuing to search for the rebel spy—though Cassian and Kay use as many back corridors as they can in order to avoid as many people as possible. Whenever someone approaches them, Cassian makes sure to surreptitiously let go of Kay's disabled arm, forcing himself to stand and walk on his own. Each time, he worries he won't be able to remain upright, but he digs deep into his reserves of strength and stays on his feet.
Whenever he grabs onto Kay's arm again, he catches the droid glancing down at the dead limb. Cassian's getting better at reading the droid's subtle body language and "facial expressions," and can easily tell what the droid is thinking—after all, reading body language (and by extension, minds) is what Cassian does for a living.
Once they are alone in the hallway after a group of Stormtroopers pass by and Cassian latches back onto Kay, he does his best to reassure the droid. "It's not permanent."
"How do you know?" Kay demands petulantly. "Maybe you've irreparably damaged me."
"I will fix it. I promise," Cassian assures vehemently. "And if I can't, I will get you a new one."
The droid falls silent and Cassian isn't sure if it's because Kay just doesn't want to talk about the depressing subject anymore, or if it's because he's processing whether or not to believe the promise. Cassian doubts the droid has ever been promised anything by anyone.
As they move farther and farther along, the hangar drawing agonizingly slowly closer, Cassian starts to feel his concentration slip—the momentary adrenaline rush that he received from leaving the relative safety of the control room is now gone. His right hip and pant leg feel cold and wet inside the Deathtrooper uniform, indicating his wound reopened, and he can see blood dripping from the fingertips of the glove on his left hand whenever he lets go of Kay's arm. He can practically feel his strength bleeding out with each droplet that glides lazily down his hand to slip noiselessly to the floor. His steps grow slower and slower.
And he realizes, then, that he is not going to make it. He is not going to be able to stay on his feet much longer and he knows he'll be unconscious not long after his feet go out from under him. He will not be able to complete his mission and that kills him inside. Will his last action in this galaxy really amount to nothing? Everything he's worked for in his life, erased by one last failure? He rages silently, bitter at what he sees as the Force's final betrayal, its ultimate way of saying it doesn't care about him or the Rebellion. Or, perhaps this is the final proof that there is no such thing as the Force, the dark part of his mind whispers angrily. That the Jedi's were a lie, that there's no fabric of Good woven between every world, that there are only less than perfect species who blunder about blindly and ruin lives with barely a second thought. His clenches his left hand in fury, but it doesn't close into a fist as he originally intended, it tightens around the forearm of his companion. Kay must feel the pressure of his grip, as the droid glances down at Cassian before returning his gaze to staring straight ahead, intent on monitoring their progress. And that's when Cassian realizes that maybe he's wrong. Maybe, just maybe, the Force is not a lie. Maybe he's just never been able to comprehend its influence before, and now, finally, he does. It's in that moment that he understands; he may not complete this mission, but he has someone who can finish it for him.
"Kay," he murmurs, "if for any reason I don't make it, I need you to do whatever it takes to get out of here and deliver these files to the Rebellion on Dantooine. You'll need the ship entry clearance of Zero-Eight-Ex-Two-Three." He places a small disc in the droid's lifeless fist, curling the motionless digits around it. He's trusting Kay not with his life, but with something he considers far more important: he's trusting Kay with the Alliance and with the lives of everyone in it. "They are of the utmost importance and are critical to the Rebellion's defense," he declares firmly.
The droid stares down at him. "You know, you seem awfully young to be on a mission of such high importance, especially alone. What are you… eighteen? Nineteen?"
Cassian scoffs. "There's no such thing as young in a Rebellion. I'm a seasoned veteran now."
The droid hums in what almost sounds like sorrowful acknowledgement, though Cassian's brain is too fuzzy to attempt to figure out what it truly means.
"Please," he whispers, not caring that a pleading tone enters his voice. There is no time for pride with his mission at stake. "Please make sure this data makes it to the Rebellion."
Kay reaches across with his good arm and place his hand gently over Cassian's. "I promise I will do my best," he replies honestly, without any trace of his usual sarcasm. "But I promise to try even harder to ensure that both of us make it back. Don't I keep telling you that my survival depends heavily on yours?" the droid demands. "Don't go getting all selfish on me and dying, because you'll more than likely take me with you!"
Annnnd the snark is back, Cassian chuckles to himself, catching the note of teasing in Kay's voice.
"Thank you," Cassian breathes, relief filling him. "Thank you, but I think you should just focus on the data. I won't hold you to your latter promise because it is going to be pretty difficult to accomplish."
"Oh? And why is that?"
Cassian doesn't get a chance to answer, because just at that moment, one of his legs gives out. The only thing that saves him from falling is Kay's quick reflexes. The droid latches onto his left arm in order to keep him upright.
"Just go," Cassian mutters, fighting to keep his eyes open, the world dimming a little—which unfortunately has nothing to do with the Deathtrooper's dark helmet. "Leave me and go."
The droid glances around—fortunately the hall is empty, so no one witnessed the uncharacteristic stumble of a Deathtrooper, which would have surely given them away. "No, I don't think I'll do that," he disagrees. "Like you said, a true rebel never leaves anyone behind and, if I'm to be a rebel, I may as well start by doing it right. The hangar is just around that corner," he nods his head to a bend in the hallway only fifty feet away. "If you are half the man that my systems have calculated you are, then you can make it another few hundred feet! And you won't be doing it alone. I'll help you until we're into the hangar, though then you'll have to walk to the nearest ship by yourself; people might talk if they spot a Deathtrooper and a security droid holding hands," Kay finishes slyly.
And with that, Kay switches to Cassian's right side so that the droid can hold him upright, then marches them forwards. They finally round the corner and Kay lets go of Cassian's arm. Holding onto his sanity and consciousness with every shred of will power he has left, he focuses only on putting one foot in front of the other. His leg threatens to give out again, sending shooting pain from his foot all the way up to his torso, but he refuses to let it crumple. Kay's gentle nudges keep him on target towards a shuttle parked in the hangar.
They almost make it.
"Halt!" a voice shouts at them when they're only ten feet from the shuttle. Turning, Cassian spots a lone Stormtrooper who picks up enough courage to challenge a Deathtrooper and a droid who shouldn't be there, stepping out from his small group of men monitoring the area. "What business do you have with this shuttle? There's a rebel spy on the loose. Why aren't you participating in the search?" the Trooper demands, voice growing in confidence with each question he asks.
We were so close, Cassian mourns, recognizing that with each passing moment, their chances of successfully escaping diminish exponentially—Kay could probably tell him the precise amount, but Cassian doesn't need a numerical statistic in order to know they are perilously close to failure. He has to make sure Kay makes it to the shuttle, not just because of the data now in the droid's possession, but because Cassian feels responsible for him—after all, it was the reprogramming by Cassian's own hand that put Kay in this dangerous position. And, he desperately wants to keep his earlier promise: he doesn't want to use the droid—who he's rapidly getting attached to—he wants to help him. He wants to give him a chance to start over, a chance at a new life. For a friend, Cassian will do anything to keep a promise. So he steels his resolve, channels the adrenaline surge in response to the Stormtrooper's confrontation, straightens to his full height, steps directly in front of Kay, locks his knees in order to stay on his feet and glares at the man who halted them. Though the Stormtrooper cannot see his stern gaze due to the Deathtrooper helmet, Cassian's anger is conveyed nonetheless.
"If you had listened to the General's orders," Cassian sneers, casting aside his natural accent in favor of a more Imperialistic one and donning an arrogant, almost malevolent attitude, "you would have heard that every inch of this base is to be searched, which includes barracks, supply rooms, refreshers and yes, even the ships." Cassian angles his head towards Kay and snaps, "Droid! Continue on your directive of scanning that shuttle for the rebel scum! I need to clear up this Trooper's priorities, since he has time to hassle a superior officer while not participating in the search himself!" He returns his attention to the Stormtrooper—whose three companions have now joined him in confronting Cassian—hoping that Kay will listen to him.
By the lack of mechanical noise indicating the droid's retreat and the Stormtroopers' continued stares over Cassian's shoulder, he gathers that Kay—unsurprisingly—has chosen to ignore him. The Troopers' grips tighten on their blasters, suspicious at the fact that the droid did not immediately follow a direct order. Cassian sighs internally. So much for that ruse. He tries to salvage the situation, even knowing it's probably pointless. "Droid!" he shouts, without taking his eyes off of the blasters. "Continue your directive!"
There's a moment of tense silence, and then the droid replies, "Okay." Relief courses through Cassian because he's pretty sure he can hold these four off long enough for Kay to reach the shuttle and depart from the base. His relief is short lived, however, when Kay continues matter-of-factly, "But I'd much rather keep my promise and that means you're coming with me."
Cassian's eyes widen and he only has a moment to comprehend what Kay means, before he feels the droid's metal arm snake beneath his own arms and wrap around his torso. Within seconds, Kay lifts him in the air and takes a step backwards. Cassian's brain races to process this turn of events and analyze their best course of action, already raising his blaster to take aim at one of the Imperials. His muscles tremble with fatigue, but he aims true and the first man goes down before the other three even fully level their weapons. Not bad for a left-handed shot, he thinks in satisfaction, before immediately moving his aim to another target as Kay continues their retreat. Cassian doesn't even have time to think about how ridiculous they must look, a droid carrying a Deathtrooper one handed, and frankly he doesn't care so long as they make it to the shuttle. He squeezes the trigger and a second man goes down, but by now the remaining two Stormtroopers have had time to aim and Cassian can already see their fingers pulling on the triggers. He prepares himself for the two shots that are not doubt about to impact with his body, but at the last moment Kay twists so that the droid is the one who suffers the blasts.
Cassian has a moment to register his surprise at the droid's selfless action, and then they're up the loading ramp of the shuttle and Kay slams the controls, closing the door immediately and shutting out the rest of the blaster fire that follows.
Kay tries to set Cassian down, but the moment his feet reach the floor, he sags towards the ground. Kay catches him, wrapping his long arm around Cassian's chest again in order to carry him farther into the shuttle. The blaster falls from Cassian's numb hand and he feels like he can't breath—not because of Kay's arm, but because of the mask on his face. As his body shuts down, the helmet begins to feel more and more claustrophobic. He raises his left hand, feebly attempting to get it off and eventually successfully removes it. He gasps in a breath of air before letting his head tip to the side and rest on Kay, as he no longer has the strength to hold it upright.
The droid jostles him gently as he races towards the cockpit. "Hey, Rebel, please stay with me." Cassian thinks he sounds uncharacteristically concerned, until the droid adds almost as an after thought—as if not wanting to be caught sounding worried—"I can't fly this ship on my own; it requires two pilots."
"I'm awake," he mutters unconvincingly into the droid's arm.
Suddenly, he feels himself settling in the co-pilot's seat and Kay gently arranges the man's left hand on the controls before sitting himself in the pilot's chair. "I can do everything but man the stabilizers. Can you manage that? You just have to hold us steady."
Cassian nods determinedly.
Kay fires up the ship as Imperials scurry around in the hangar outside the cockpit, trying to understand what's going on. Immediately, tower control hails them, ordering that they power down and remain grounded and prepare to be boarded, before demanding to know who they are. Kay glances at Cassian before replying, "We're rebels."
Cassian manages to grin. "Punch it, Kay."
"It would be my pleasure."
They rocket out of the base.
As they speed out of the planet's gravity field in order to make the jump to light speed, Cassian finds a strange sense of calm flooding him. He's done it. They have done it. Together. He tries his best to stay conscious in order to man the stabilizers, but despite his best efforts, his eyes slip shut and his head falls to the side. I've done my part, tried my best… I can let go now. I'm sure Kay will figure out a way to fly this thing without me. Peace fills him, though a small amount of regret surfaces as well. It's too bad, though. I would have liked to get to know Kay. I think we could have been friends, if given the chance.
He surrenders to oblivion.
xxXxx xxXxx
When the human slumps in the seat next to him just before they make the jump to light speed, Kay feels a jolt of electricity he identifies as pure panic zip through him. NO! They are so close to freedom and medical help! The young man can't just give up now!
"Rebel!" he shouts (I really must get his name, he absently makes a mental note to himself).
His shout gets no response. He turns his attention back to the controls just long enough to send the ship into hyperspace heading for the Rebel base the young man had told him about and turns on the ship's autopilot. Then he's out of his seat and across the aisle, bending over the motionless human.
He prods him, as that was sufficient enough to awaken him earlier. Now, it has no effect. His scans can't penetrate the Deathtrooper uniform, but he recalls the young man's injuries and immediately heads back into the ship in order to locate the medkit. Kit in hand, he returns quickly and removes enough of the rebel's armor in order to access the wounds. He knows it most certainly is not a good sign that all of the jostling that accompanies the uniform removal does nothing to rouse the dark haired human, despite the fact that Kay surmises it causes extensive pain.
There's an eighty-two percent chance he'll die, an unwanted program whispers to him.
Quiet! he hisses back. He doesn't want to entertain the thought of this young man dying when Kay feels he owes him a debt for giving the droid his first sense of an actual purpose in life, of an actual life beyond boring, mindless monitoring. And if Kay is honest, he really doesn't want the man himself to die. Sure, the rebel is aggravating at times, but he's shown more honesty and character—and determination and headstrong stubbornness, he adds mentally—than Kay has ever analyzed in a person before—and analysis is his specialty after all, so he's analyzed a lot of people. While Kay initially suspected that the rebel was only using Kay for his own personal gain—and indeed maybe that was the man's initial goal—he feels confident in saying that's no longer the case. Why would a man promise a droid anything such as that he wouldn't leave the droid behind and that he'd restore the droid's arm to working order? The mere fact that a non-droid had promised a droid anything, and meant it, speaks volumes to the man's character. And when the rebel ordered Kay onto the ship, the droid knows it was partially because he has the information the man is so keen to get to the Rebellion, but Kay could also hear something else in the tone of the man's voice, something that communicated to Kay that the man wanted Kay to make it out of there. It felt only natural, then, to keep his promise in return for the human keeping his, which is why he'd grabbed the man and made for their retreat. And when he'd seen the Stormtroopers take aim at the man in his arm, he knew immediately that the man was about to die and well, Kay could most certainly fix that. His shell could take a couple of hits without too much damage, the same could not be said for the human. Plus, the rebel had treated Kay with respect… well, most of the time. The man had gotten a little snarky, but Kay admits that he himself had been the first to be sarcastic with the rebel, so it had only been fair.
As the black armor comes away, revealing the man's clothes which are positively soaked in blood, Kay can't stop his programs from running, wailing warnings in his head that this is too much blood.
Approximately thirty percent lost! one of his analyses screams. Approaching near irreparable, catastrophic damage!
"Yes, I see that," he growls at the haywire systems, "I don't need you shouting it throughout my circuits, I'm panicking as it is!"
He can't shut the pessimistic, doom riddled programs down, however, probably due to the combination of reprogramming glitches and the damage his body took when shielding the rebel from blaster fire. Instead he does his best to ignore them.
He pops open the medkit, tssking when he finds the supplies scarily limited. Well it's better than nothing, he tells himself, taking a leaf out of the rebel's book and trying to look on the bright side. He pulls one of the two bacta patches out and quickly opens it. Ripping the shoulder of the young man's shirt in order to directly access the injury, he places the patch over the wound and presses down hard. The human doesn't even flinch.
Unresponsive! Indications of reduced total function and poor circulation to extremities. Gray skin and perspiration. Suggest system in shock! his medical analysis informs him again.
"If you won't shut up I'm going to rip you out of my files the first chance I get!" he snarls, securing the bacta to the man's shoulder and moving to the man's hip. Abdomen, he corrects upon getting his first proper look at the seven inch slice that crosses the man's side, not his hip. Its edges are burned and inflamed, while its center cuts deep into the man's muscle and still bleeds sluggishly. Kay presses the last bacta patch to it, grumbling about the Empire's inferiority when it isn't quite large enough to cover the wound.
"Rebel," he calls to the human, "it would please me greatly if you woke up. If you do, your chances of survival will increase by five percent." He watches the rebel's face, looking for any sign of a response, but sees nothing. Instead, he's struck by just how young the man is. He'd noticed it earlier on their way to the hangar, but it's even more obvious now, as the man's face is no longer lined in concern and calculation. He's almost a boy, except for the fact that his eyes tell the tale of an old soul. He has far too much responsibility on his shoulders, too much of a sense of duty and too little sense of self-preservation. Though Kay admits that just a little while earlier, he'd tried to exploit those exact qualities in the hopes of keeping the man conscious just a little longer; Kay doesn't actually need help piloting the ship. Telling the rebel otherwise had been a bald-faced lie, but a lie with the best intentions because he'd hoped his ruse would compel the man to stay awake and functioning long enough for them to land on Dantooine, where he could get immediate medical attention. But Kay wasn't really surprised when the man slipped into oblivion. Kay was more surprised that the rebel had remained on his feet for as long as he had. Between the blood loss, the subsequent shock and the oblique fracture to both his radius and ulna, the man should have been out cold or senseless a full forty minutes ago.
A few moments later, the ship beeps that they are almost ready to come out of hyperspace at Dantooine. And that's when Kay realizes that they are in an Imperial ship, approaching a rebel base.
"Oh, Kriff."
He gives the man's face one last glance, before he hurries to the communications, punching in the frequency for the base that the man had told him.
"Uh, hello Alliance base, we are rebels approaching in a stolen Imperial shuttle, authorization code Zero-Eight-Ex-Two-Three. We will be coming out of hyperspace in moments. Please don't shoot us down." Oh yes, very convincing, he congratulates himself sarcastically. Nothing like being blunt and to the point, Kay. 'We're rebels, don't shoot,' ha! Like that's going to work.
Silence.
How rude! he grouses, though he realizes rebels have reason to be highly suspicious—as his circuits had just reminded him—and are likely attempting to verify what he'd said. "Please respond," he prompts.
There's another moment of silence, before a voice comes on demanding, "Who the hell is this? And who the hell is we?!"
"I am K-2SO and I'm with—" he stops, realizing he has absolutely no idea who the man is. He knows the character of the man, but he can't very well convey that as an identifier over the radio. "Well, uh, I don't actually know," he admits. We're doomed, he moans internally.
"What do you mean you don't know!?"
"I find your tone rather offensive," Kay informs the man haughtily. "I don't know who I'm with because he never told me his name—despite my asking. I'm a droid he picked up during his mission to retrieve data from the Imperial base on Roche. His mission was successful, but I'm afraid the young man was severely injured and will require immediate medical attention upon our arrival. As in immediate," he stresses.
Silence greets him and he figures the man must be conferring with someone higher up, likely trying to decide if Kay's story is plausible or if it's a trap set up by the Empire. Sure enough, a new voice speaks up. "Did you say Roche?" a woman inquires.
"Yes, that's correct."
"Can you describe the man you're with?"
Kay looks at the unconscious rebel next to him. "He's young, younger than should be sent on such critical missions," he informs them, not bothering to disguise his accusing tone, "dark hair, brown eyes, a force of will a mile long and no self-preservation instincts when it comes to the Rebellion."
"That definitely sounds like Cassian Andor," the voice remarks. "All right, droid, you have permission to land."
He looks at the man. Cassian. It's nice to meet you. I hope I'll get to meet you properly, preferably when both of us are fully functional.
Just as he's about to sign off, he thinks of one more crucial piece of information. "Oh, also, I'm an Imperial droid that Cassian reprogrammed. Please don't shoot me on sight."
xxXxx xxXxx
Cassian awakes to the heavy sensation of drugs in his body. It isn't an entirely unpleasant feeling and he is grateful he's no longer in pain, but the feeling of not being able to move because his arms weigh ten times what they should always disconcerts him.
He sighs, then inhales deeply, breathing in the air which means he's still alive. He truly hadn't thought he would ever wake up again when he'd slipped into unconsciousness on the shuttle.
He turns his head and finds a sight that surprises him: Vorin asleep in the chair next to his bed, head bent at an uncomfortable angle. Cassian doesn't quite know what to make of that… does the other man truly think of him as such a close friend? Cassian can't imagine why… he's done everything he can to discourage the blond and push him away. He tucks those thoughts into the corner of his mind for further analysis later, because at that moment he notices something even more surprising: Kay, standing just behind Vorin.
The droid must see Cassian's eyes widen in surprise—though not in unwelcome surprise—because he explains, "They don't really know what to do with me, so they stuck me in here for now. Apparently I was making people uncomfortable."
Cassian snorts softly. "I can't imagine why."
Vorin continues to slumber, dead to the world.
"Oh," the droid adds cheerily, "and they fixed my arm!" He swings both limbs out to the side in obvious delight to demonstrate their functionality. "So thank you for keeping your promise, even though you had nothing to do with it. Flying ships will be much easier with two arms. It was quite an interesting experience only having one, but I'm not eager to repeat the incident."
Cassian half smiles at Kay's enthusiasm and happiness, before a thought occurs to him, brought on by what the droid just said and by Cassian's memory of his last moments before losing consciousness. "How did you make it here after I passed out? How did you keep the ship stable?"
Kay's eyes flick to the side guiltily. "Oh, I, uh, lied about that."
"What?" Cassian asks in confusion.
"I didn't actually need your help to pilot the ship, I just said I did hoping you'd stay awake out of a sense of duty towards completing the mission."
Cassian gapes at the droid, shocked that he'd come up with such a devious and ingenious plan.
"Also," the droid continues, obviously trying to change the subject before Cassian can come up with a response, "it's nice to meet you and finally know your name, Cassian. And why is the name 'K-2SO' too long when it's four syllables and yours is three?" he demands. "I think that means I'm allowed to give you a nickname now. It's only fair. What about Cass? Hmm. No. How about Cassie?"
Cassian freezes, heart constricting painfully, ice flooding his veins. "No," he replies coolly, all trace of a smile and astonishment gone.
The droid's rambling stops immediately and he stares at the man lying in bed. For a moment, part of Cassian worries he's offended the droid—who, against his better judgement, he is beginning to like—but he won't take it back because no one can call him Cassie. Only one person had ever called him that and she was the first person he'd ever failed in his life.
But Kay is more perceptive than Cassian gives him credit for and the droid rolls his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. "Fine, too feminine for you? Does it threaten your image of a tough rebel?" he asks, purposefully steering the tone of the conversation into lighthearted areas. "Then I guess I'll just have to stick with Cassian… until I come up with something else… perhaps 'Too Brave for His Own Good?' Hmm. No, that's much too long. What about 'Stubborn Idiot?' Ahh, no, that's too long as well. Oh! I've got it: 'Dolt.' What do you think?"
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A.N.2. And there we have it! The beginning of a long friendship :) I love these two. They (and the rest of Rogue One) will be back soon in the sequel!