Chapter 1 – Hawks Flight
Footfalls echoed through the depths of the landing bay; the near silent tred of the harlequin's stocking-toes could be discerned only in the faint whine of metal shifting on metal … by contrast, Rex's plastoid alloy boots striking the metal weave echoed through the chamber with each step.
The harlequin's lips pursed in annoyance … this was almost as noisy as working with Croc. Life was supposed to be full of neat surprises, but if there was anyone down there, they certainly weren't going to be surprised. She shook her neck just enough to make the tiny bells jingle for a moment … became lost in the tones, then reached for one of the support poles on the side of the catwalk, leaping over and plummeting down toward the deck below in an eerie silence disrupted only by a momentary hiss of formerly compressed air and the faint jangle of the bells.
The muffled thump that followed echoed in the ears of Rex and Jareth, as they peered over the edge intently; one's expression concerned, the other curious. Yet the sound must have been some phantasm, some spectre of the blood, for there, face mere inches from the deck the harlequin hung, dangling like a spider on an invisible wire, extending her legs outward, over the line of her back and down, til they touched in complete silence and she uncurled with the unnerving grace of a master gymnast … or assassin. One hand curled in the air above her head, like a conductor's movement, and there was a quick flicker.
She looked up at the two of them; the third, Hatter had never stopped, but continued to absently descend the catwalks, pausing only to adjust his namesake garment. The harlequin's head shook, she made the briefest 'c'mon' gesture and began to slink toward the vessel.
"Showy little minx, isn't she," Jareth murmured to Rex, then produced another crystal; letting it run back and forth along his fingers, then upending his hand, setting it free to fall to the floor below; it struck the deck, bouncing once, rather than shattering as might have been expected from such a fragile-seeming trinket. Jareth's globes, much like the seekers who came to his labyrinth, were more resilient than they seemed. He stood up straight, cocked his head, giving a dazzling dark smile, the sort that made hearts hammer, and vanished in a cloud of sparkling particles.
Rex was not normally a man easily surprised – his experiences in the Clone Wars had exposed him to a considerable extent of the universe's weird and unusual things and people. It however disturbed him to realize that the oddly dressed fellow with the tea obsession was probably the most normal one of the group aside from himself.
He dismissed the troubling thought as he attached a cable-line to the railing and rappelled down to the deck below, letting the boots and leg-plates of the armor absorb the impact. Taking a moment to retract the cord, he moved toward the Dynamic class freighter, drawing his modified DC-15S blaster carbine as he went and moving to maintain a position from which he could lay down suppressive fire if need be.
The area was empty; too empty. Aside from the ship itself, there was no evidence that there was anyone at all about; not even droids. And yet the area looked too well maintained; the catwalks weren't degraded or rusting; all of the lights were functional and emitting at standard human comfort levels.
Hatter reached the deck, peering into the bottom of his teacup forlornly. He leaned back slightly, his free hand going to the odd little sideways pack he wore slung across his back; in the same moment a dark metal blade hissed through the air where his head had been just a moment prior accompanied by the distinct crackle of a collapsing stealth field. And it was not the only one.
"Ambush!"
Chaos erupted on the flight deck. Rex pivoted, carbine fire raking the small, gnarled thing charging toward him. Once, twice, yet the impact seemed only to madden the creature; its blade whipped out, but he caught the edge on the forearm plate of his suit at an oblique angle and the blade was turned aside rather than biting into the plastoid. The carbine was useless at this range; he dropped it and attempted to get inside his opponent's reach; left hand pulling out his vibro-knife. Whatever gave the creature such resilience in the face of blaster fire didn't extend to the destructive power of a vibro-blade … with three quick vicious slashes, Rex laid out his opponent, knocking its bleeding body onto its back. He gazed around the room as he retrieved his carbine; what he heard next sent chills down his spine.
The harlequin, laughing like a schoolgirl as she danced around her opponent; sidestepping a quick thrust, then doing a backflip out of reach of a wide slash, turning it into a cartwheel that ended in an extremely aggressive leap that planted both feet into her opponent's shoulders and slammed it into the ground.
"Such a cute little boy, swinging that toy around like that. Wish I had more time ta dance wit'cha but it looks like your buddy wants to cut in," she warbled before lifting one foot and driving the heel into its exposed throat, laughing maniacally even as its dark green blood sprayed up her leg.
Hatter, meanwhile, was having an ongoing conversation with someone regarding the inferior quality of the décor; punctuating his point with erratic gestures of the teapot he'd drawn out with his other hand. That these odd gesticulations occurred at the right moment to turn aside each of his would-be assassin's strikes was statistical lunacy … and yet Hatter bore no injury save that to his pride; which, to hear him speak, had been wounded to the quick.
"Entirely unsuitable! I tell you, it's too wide by half, there's no sunlight for the umbrella to block – however shall it fulfill its purpose without any sun, I'd like to know, then. Too wide, and not a suitable table nor service. March would be sorely put out … I –am– sorely put out. I will not waste good tea on bad scenery," he shrieked, upending the kettle, and spilling scalding hot tea all over. There was a hissing, then a very unfortunate sounding buzzing sound and the stench of ozone as something shorted out.
"You see what I mean? Even this clueless sod can see it," he exclaimed, gesturing at the twitching form, gasping for vapors no longer being provided for, asphyxiating in the nitrogen rich, oxygen light atmosphere favored by more human-like species. Hatter stomped off toward the ship; as his hands produced a rag, cleaned out the teapot, and secured it back among his belongings.
As the last of the mysterious assassins twitched on the floor, there was a hissing sound as an interior hanger door opened. An almost physical sensation of menace flowed from the silhouetted figure that stood in the opening; dark, short cut robes concealed much of its form from view; black plas-weave boots striking the floor with a hollow echo on each step as it strode into the chamber. Rex wasted no time, firing from the hip with the carbine at the approaching figure; the bright glow of the discharge streaked across the chamber, only to be deflected at the last moment, slamming into the nearby bulkhead; not even a second later, the captain found himself suspended in the air, crushed in a vice-like grip, as though a rancor had taken hold of him and begun to squeeze. Already he could hear the protest of the armor plating - and that of his body beneath under the strain of the far sturdier armor. Red and black flashes clouded his vision. here was a moist, juicy cracking sound. Knives spidered through his body tearing everything they touched as they raced for his brain. His body crumpled to the ground like a broken doll, hitting the 'crete with a sickening squelching sound.
Harley was a blur as she crossed the distance between her and the new assailant. "Y'know, normally I'da loved to watch the big fella bleed out ... but you don't seem the type to just let me sit and watch," she quipped as she somersaulted across the hanger - then found herself suddenly thrust most violently against the ceiling, held in place as though by some giant invisible hand.
Hatter, meanwhile, had walked over to where Rex had fallen, regarded the horrid mess of him there. In most places, there was no hope for him.
"The trick, then, is finding a place where there is hope," he muttered to himself, then slipped an arm under Rex's left and around the back, lifting him, armor and all, and slowly dragging him toward the spacecraft; leaving behind a smear of blood that followed him as he dragged the far taller man along.
Their attacker considered the scene silently, reaching out with her preternatural senses. She was sure she'd sensed another as she entered, but now there was no trace. The hatter she dismissed as meaningless; he barely even registered. The warrior was incapacitated; on a better day she might have had some fun with him before he went. The assassin woman she held against the ceiling effortlessly as she moved slowly through the hanger.
There was a faint tinkling sound ... immediately she spun towards it, but even as she did so, another, from behind and left ... and another ... and another ... tiny glass spheres sat upon the hanger deck around her, almost seeming to regard her as they lay.
"Such a pity ..."
Again, she turned, catlike, trying to orient on where the sound came from.
The voice droned on, canting in a mocking tone. "Hmmm, how does that doggerell go? Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. Well ... let's see how well you've mastered it, hmmm?"
The Goblin King appeared amidst the glass spheres, one locus of the oval they described, the other loci being the woman also surrounded.
"I believe you see the nature of the challenge," he purred, gesturing idly; several of the spheres rolled toward her - she reached out with the force to send them back at him; the motions blunted, countered. Again and a third time to no avail. The two seemed equally matched; neither showed any inclination of ceasing. Soon, the spheres were whipping around the floor in arcs and curves, attempting to gain by subtlety what could not be mastered by direct force. As the struggle wore on, the woman's face twisted in irritation; Jareth, for his part, simply wore a wry, amused grin even as spheres raced through the air around, coming several times close but never quite managing to strike him.
Anger flared in the woman's eyes - anger and confusion; for she could feel no sense of the Force in this one. "What are you," she hissed as she attempted a flanking swipe that was turned aside with the tinkle of colliding glass.
"Come now, surely you're more clever than that, my lovely little wind-up doll." He took a step forward, smiling wickedly. "I'm everything you want," he purred, taking a second step as the whirling spheres swung chaotically between and around them.
"Everything you need," he husked, extending a hand out to her; one of the whirling crystals flew into it as if the most natural thing in the world; fingers began to twist and bend, the crystal rolling along the hand as though it were some invisible track. He bowed forward a moment as another of the spheres careened through the arc his head occupied just half a moment prior.
"Is all right here," he exhaled, now suddenly very close indeed, holding the crystal atop the tripod of forefinger, middle and thumb, presented to her as one might offer a gift.
"Follow your passion, if you dare," he whispered, the treble of his voice; the cat-like smile that curled his lips, revealing just a hint of teeth, the way his shirt hung just so, half unbuttoned offering a tantalizing glimpse of the chest beneath.
"Why I believe," she murmured, reached out, letting one fingernail trace along the back of his palm, "I shall," she exclaimed as she palmed the globe in his fingers triumphantly.
There was a bright flash, and the sound of glass shattering - and the sound of laughter, quickly fading. As the glow subsided, the woman was gone. The crystals were gone - all but one, clutched in Jareth's hand as he peered within.
"I wasn't even sure I could do that here," he said, allowing himself a soft chuckle, "Good thing she didn't realize that ... or it might not have worked."
His musing was interrupted by a wailing shriek followed by a sudden hard - and wet - thump as something hit the deck behind him.
The splayed supine form of the harlequin lay on the deck where it landed when no longer pinned to the ceiling by the force adept. She bled from several injuries, but pulled herself to her feet, wobbling from side to side disoriented.
"All ready ta go Mistah J," she warbled, then listed to one side. Jareth shook his head, then moved over and under her right arm; helping her stand straighter.
"Yes, well let's go see if Hatter found something to keep the captain together, hmmm?"
"Gots to get movin'," she murmured only semi-lucidly in reply. "All this noise is sure to bring Bats."
Jareth's left eyebrow raised quizzically, but he did not inquire. Together they walked up the boarding ramp into the Dynamic class freighter, following the slick of blood Rex's dragged body had left behind.
The faint thrum under their feet made it clear at least part of the ship's systems were already up and running; and the trail of blood made it clear which way Hatter had dragged Rex; after passing through a central area of the ship, it pivoted left through another (currently open) door. In here, Hatter was busy brewing tea as the med-bot units hummed and occasionally sparked; servo-limbs a blur of needles and tubes as they operated on the chest cavity; the upper half of his clone trooper armor had already been removed, set aside, and sprayed down with disinfective agents. Hatter's tea service sat inside the chest plate.
"Oh dear, another injured. There really isn't enough room for two. Tea for two, surely, but two for table is right out. Just set her down on the cargo cylinder here, back against the wall, won't you?" He gestured emphatically to make clear which of the two cylinders he meant, though only one abutted the wall.
Jareth put the harlequin down as instructed; nose wrinkling in distaste at the strong antiseptic sting that burned in his nostrils. "Fortunate for the Captain the ship had this ... fascinating ... thing on board, I suppose."
Hatter snorted derisively as he pressed a cup of tea into Jareth's hands, then adjusted his hat. "Fortune, hmpf. It's all in the leaves - stir until they say what you need," he retorted, as if this statement explained everything. "So what became of our uninvited guest," he inquired, reaching up to remove and retuck the 10/6 ticket.
"You might say she began an amazing journey," Jareth replied obliquely.
Hatter gave him the stink-eye, then poured himself another cup. They drank quietly while the machines did their work. Occasionally, Jareth would reach over to keep the weaving harlequin from tipping too far to either side. There was not more more they could do until Rex was fit for duty - he was the only one of them who might have the knowledge needed to fly this machine.