Welcome back, my loyal readers and greetings to all of my new readers out there. I hope you're all enjoying the story! We last left our duo of intrepid anti-heroes in the hands of the Cloud Riders, so I know you're all anxious to see what happens next. Let's hop back in. Enjoy!
Drakken and Freya sat side-by side, wrists and ankles bound as they watched the rebels loading small, stabilized canisters of rhydonium into a pair of smallish freighters. Nearby, a small fire crackled as darkness began to set in at the rebel camp, and they leaned against one another, partially for what comfort it brought, and partially so Thorne could help steady Drakken, who seemed constantly on the verge of passing out.
"Stay with it, love…" She whispered. "Don't ye black out on me, Drakken."
"I'm…trying my damndest…to not do jush that…" He slurred. Freya winced.
"What do ye think they'll do to us?" She asked.
"I dunno…" He replied groggily. "Most likely torture us…beat on us and question us…probably. Then shoot us in the back of the heads…don't talk, sweetheart…"
"Ye think I'd do somethin' like that?" She returned. Freya sighed. "Sorry I went an' got us captured, me love." Drakken grunted, coughed, and spit out a gob of blood. He tried to chuckle.
"It happens." He shrugged. "Ugh…only the…the second time it's happened to me, but…it happens." He was trying to ignore the pain throbbing on so many parts of his body that it felt like his entire being was made up of burning, aching and misery. "At least we're together, Freya." He said, and a small smile crossed his face. "I love you."
"I love you too, Drakken." She said softly. Freya was trying to be as strong as possible for Drakken, but she too felt the extent of her own injuries. Her head was pounding, her bottom lip was cut and swollen, and every time she inhaled, she felt at least a couple of broken ribs stabbing into the surrounding flesh. Her right ankle was swelling, and felt like it was badly sprained. She looked up to see one of the rebel men looking down at her. She grew angry as she noticed his eyes traveling up and down her. "Wot you lookin' at, tosser?" Drakken now noticed the man and growled.
"You keep your filthy hands off of her…" He began. Surprisingly, the rebel held up his own hands.
"Woah now…I wasn't trying anything." He said. "I was just curious." He knelt down in front of them. "I've never seen an Imperial officer dressed like that. Most of them look like they were printed off the same template."
"Aye." Thorne breathed.
"Why do you do it?" The rebel asked. "You two don't seem like a couple of raving fanatics. Why are you fighting this war?" Drakken remained silent, trying his best not to move or talk anymore than he had to.
"Why're you?!" Freya shot back. The rebel sighed.
"To get rid of this damned Empire." He said. "You should know why. Enslaving worlds…and working with criminal organizations…the terror you've brought to so many innocent systems."
"I ne'er brought no terror." Freya countered. "I'm fightin' t' keep people from getting' killed…that's what I'm here for. For peace."
"Fighting for peace is like sklocking for virginity." The rebel stated with a frown. "Guess we all want an end to this thing, huh? Where are you from, Lieutenant?" Freya cleared her throat.
"Breoh'lar." She stated. "You?"
"Onderon, ma'am." He said, then pursed his lips. "I've never been to Breoh'lar."
"Right. Well, I ne'er been to Onderon either." She huffed. He flicked a small smile.
"Thanks for talking to me, I guess." He said. "You two need anything?"
"A medic…" Thorne huffed, and nodded to Drakken angrily.
"We don't have anything left but a few rolls of gauze." The rebel admitted. "So that'll have to wait."
"Cigarra…" Drakken muttered.
"What?"
"Get in my pocket…get me a cigarra…" He repeated. "I could…really use a smoke right now." The rebel let out a dry laugh, pulled a tin from his own satchel, and in a few moments, Drakken had a lit cigarra in his lips. He sucked a long drag of smoke into his lungs, blew it out and coughed. "Damn that's good."
"Leave us." The rebel leader said, approaching the scene. The man dipped his head in a nod and walked away. The read-haired fighter looked down on the two officers a moment, then sat down, cross-legged in front of them.
"My name in Enfys Nest. This is my camp…for now." She greeted. "Though we're going to be leaving soon, thanks to your ambush."
"You're welcome." Tharcourt grumbled.
"We were only after the fuel." Enfys stated. "You could have just given it up and walked away."
"It was…Imperial property you were stealing." Drakken panted. "In case you didn't get the memo."
"Was it?" The rebel leader asked. "Before the Empire invaded this world, rhydonium was mined by the native population. Settlers…peaceful people who came here to set up mining operations generations ago. There never were that many of them, but this was their world." Enfys shook her head. "The Empire took it from them. Forced them to work the mines as slaves because they would not sign the fields over to them. Was it the Empire's fuel to steal?" Tharcourt closed his eyes.
"Yer tellin' the truth…" Freya said softly. "…you lot's only stealin' wot's already been stole."
"And putting it to better use." Nest added. "Stopping the Empire from doing this to more planets…to more people." She tilted her head a little. "This doesn't really seem like it's news to you two."
"I been apprised…" Drakken grumbled darkly.
"Then why?" The woman asked. "You don't really seem like evil people. Why are you helping them?" Drakken shot back with the only thing he knew.
"I'm fighting to try and bring peace and order to the galaxy!"
"You're a pawn!" Enfys Nest half-shouted. "The tools of a twisted, evil old man, killing and destroying everything that gets in his way of more power and control." She sighed disappointedly. "The only good you're doing is to evil…an evil that doesn't care about you. Do you really think that…"
"I know." Freya confessed. Enfys blinked. "I know…I know all this, so ye donae gotta go preachin' it to me!" The rebel leader looked to Drakken. For a moment, he stared hatefully into her brown eyes, then he closed his and nodded defeatedly.
"Does it matter?" He asked. "You're going to kill us anyway, right? Or send us to some rebel prison? Think I'm dying anyway…" He coughed and spit out more blood. Tears rose in Freya's green eyes. "I know what I do…what I am. I got my notches…cough…and none of them ever brought a moment's joy." He leaned against Freya. "Just make it quick and take your fuel." Nest drew a curved dagger, and leaned in. She cut Freya's bonds, then Drakken's.
"Take care of your man." She said to Thorne. "He's got some internal injuries." The rebel leader nodded to nearby speeder bike. "Take that. I highly advise that you tell your superiors that we're all dead, and you killed us. You don't, and…"
"They won't be as forgiving…" Drakken said. "I understand." Enfys smiled.
"We're going to win, you know?" She added. "You should consider new jobs. Every day is a day closer to the end of the Empire…and freedom."
"Yeah, well I hope not…" Drakken groaned as Freya helped him up. "The Empire is a mess, but so was the Republic. I had my druthers…we'd all just…ugh…krinkin' live on our…gah…own planets and…ow…mind our own business, little sister." Nest frowned.
"Little sister?" She asked. Drakken coughed and gave her a small grin that looked almost like a snarl.
"Yeah…I was like you once…" He took a few labored breaths. "…long time ago. You…remind me of me…" He felt sleep overtaking him. "You get outta here, sis…do what you gotta…help who you can. Don't look at the past…look at what…" He slumped a little. Freya shook him.
"Drakken?!" She cried out. He suddenly jolted awake.
"What?! What do…" He looked at Enfys. "Yeah, you look at what you can build better." He shook his head, trying to ward off the darkness. "I'm old…old bastards…let the kids run things for a change, eh?" The rebel leader smiled sweetly at the couple.
"Okay…I'll remember that." She stated. "Please, Lieutenant…get this man to a medical unit."
Drakken awoke laying on the padded bench in the back of The Huntsman. He took a deep but pain-filled breath of the fresh air being pumped into the mask on his face before slowly pulling it away. Suddenly Freya was there, and planted a soft, warm kiss on his forehead. As she backed away, he saw that her eyes were glossy with moisture. He nodded to her.
"Everybody safe?" He asked, his voice low and hoarse. She nodded.
"Aye. The whole team's safe." She said. He felt a sense of relief.
"Thank the stars…"
"We saved all but two transports a' fuel too." She added, then leaned in a little closer. "An' we killed all them skulkin' rebels. Ye remember that, darlin'?" Drakken tried to clear his head. He began to remember what transpired during their fight and their capture. Drakken nodded as best he could, wondering why it felt like his body didn't want to function.
"Yeah…w…we got them all." He said. "How…How'd I…"
"I flew ye back." Freya said. She winced and held her chest. "Rest, darlin…rest."
"No…I need to…" He tried to sit up. Drakken let out a pained grunt, realizing how big of a mistake this was, and decided that laying was probably the better option at the moment.
"Yes sir…you lay there and try not to move." He heard Dall say. "I thought you did a number on yourself last time, but…"
"But what, doc?" He muttered.
"Commander…I, as a trained medical human want to know one thing. How in the name of all things sacred are you still alive and talking, sir?" The medic asked. Drakken grinned.
"Pure meanness, doc." He responded. He felt tired again, and tried to ward it off. "Water." Thorne brought a cup to his lips, and carefully allowed him to sip until he had his fill. She wiped his mouth with her sleeve and gave him a little smile.
"Hang in there, my love…" She said softly.
"Huh…I'm awake…" He started to protest, but darkness closed in around him again.
He jolted awake on the shuttle again, with Dall applying more bacta. The medic noticed he was conscious, and just shook his head.
"Just let me work, sir." He said. "You're going to need some serious treatment when we get back."
"What…how bad is it?" Drakken asked. Dall opened his mouth to speak.
"Shut it, doc." Freya stated from somewhere nearby. Dall settled for a thin-lipped smile.
"You're a hazard, commander." He stated. Dall stood and walked off. Drakken heard Freya whimper a little. "You need to stay down, LT. You'll cause more damage…"
"Ahhhhh…" Freya waved as she limped over to Drakken. She brushed his head gently. "Yer gonna be right as rain, darlin'. Ye need anything…ye jes tell me, okay love?" He couldn't help but smile.
"You…you take such good care of me…" He whispered.
"A' course I do…" She replied. "I love ye…" He closed his eyes.
"I love you too."
"Drakken…Drakken." He awoke to Freya saying his name. His eyes slowly opened, and she was standing over him still.
"I'm not asleep." He stated. She had a worried look on her face.
"Ye've been asleep for two hours, love." She said. "We're dockin' now. Let's get ye to medical…"
"Nuh…no…" He stated angrily. "I gotta report first…"
"Drakken!" Freya exclaimed, then her face betrayed her and she grabbed her chest and almost doubled over. "Och…gods…nnn…"
"Freya, what's wrong?!" Drakken sat up and almost passed out. He felt a wave of nausea, and it was like every pain receptor in his body was screaming. "Freya…" She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I boosted a couple a' ribs I did…" She panted. "Busted 'em good. I'm alright though…ye need t' go see the surgeon…" There was a slight bump, and the engines began to throttle down.
"I will. I promise." He vowed. "I have to go report…" Another wave of tremendous pain. "Ugh…to Vader. You go to medical. I'll be down in a few minutes, okay?" The ramp lowered, and Drakken started to stand, only to fall back to sitting. Freya started to help him up, but he waved her off. "Don't…you'll hurt yourself. Dall, get her to the infirmary."
"Commander…" Dall began.
"Corporal Dall…" Drakken said in a commanding tone. "Get Thorne to medical…now. I'll join her when I am done." Dall inhaled as if to protest, then let out a frustrated growl.
"Lieutenant, let's get you looked at, alright?" He said in a softer tone. Freya looked at Drakken a moment.
"I'll be okay." He said. Her lip trembled. "I'll see you in a little bit." She leaned in and kissed his forehead again, her breath hitching with pain, then she allowed Dall to help her off the shuttle. Drakken forced himself to stand. It took several seconds for him to be able to breathe or even see clearly from the new position. He took a step and almost fell. A powerful arm stopped him.
"Do you need help, sir?" Daraay asked. He steadied himself.
"No…ungh…I think…I think I'm alright." He said. "Just…a little woozy, you know?"
"You are badly injured, sir." The Death Trooper commented.
"Nah…I'm not that bad." He argued. "Been worse'n this, Meeka. Get me down the ramp, and…" He coughed, and his chest hurt. "Ugh…I'll take it from there. You get the team squared away, alright?"
"I will, yes sir." Daraay nodded, a tinge of worry in her tone.
Once Daraay had helped Commander Tharcourt down the ramp, he mildly shrugged her off and limped slowly across the hangar floor. It seemed to him to take hours to reach the turbolifts on the wall of the bay. He half-walked/half fell into the lift and hit the button for the proper level, then leaned back against the wall. His head felt like someone was pounding a massive drum inside his skull, and his leg didn't want to bend. He glanced down to see his left thigh bandaged from the knee up to his hip. Drakken sighed. Oh yeah, that reb shot me. Wait…I think I picked two or three up this time. Ugh. Shot again…wonderful.
He stepped off of the turbolift and a pair of stormtroopers backed away like a krayt dragon was stepping off of the elevator. They came to a nervous salute, and he passed by, walking down the corridor to another bank of lifts. A navy trooper stopped dead in his tracks and watched the commander pass with a look of pure shock plastered on his face. As he neared the turbolifts, a trio of officer,, a captain and two lieutenants, approached from the other direction. They all stopped and stared at him.
"Commander…sir!" The captain exclaimed. "By the Void, are you okay!? Do you need a doctor, sir?"
"Just got back from the field." Drakken growled. "The rebels got it worse…" He kept walking.
"I…I shouldn't want to see them then…" The captain remarked. Tharcourt got into the next lift, and rode the car forward. The next took him up to just outside of the bridge area, and Drakken shambled to the hatch leading to the control room of the Super Star Destroyer. He fumbled with a code cylinder, and finally got it into the port. The door slid open, and he stepped onto the bridge. Just inside the door, Drakken stumbled and nearly fell. A midshipman stepped forward to help him, but Tharcourt held out a hand to stop him, then nodded politely to the young man.
"Tharcourt…" Firmus said, seeing Drakken enter. He stepped toward his old friend, and noticed his appearance. Piett's face grew more severe as he neared. It seemed to him that the closer he got to Tharcourt, the worse the man looked. "Drakken! Drakken old man…" Tharcourt stumbled again, and Piett caught him by the arm.
"Hello Firmus…" He greeted. "Heh…sorry about…cough…my appearance. Just got back." Firmus sighed with the disappointed expression of a parent seeing their kid coming home filthy.
"Drakken…" He growled. "What have you done to yourself, old man?" Tharcourt attempted a smile.
"It's not that…bad…" He felt like passing out, and shook it off. "Is lord Vader in?"
"I am…Commander." The dark lord stated, and Drakken looked up, somewhat surprised at how the being had just appeared there. Piett helped him stand up straighter, and he nodded to his superior.
"Sorry…my lord." Drakken began, and swallowed. "Mission complete…Lord Vader." Vader stood there a few moments, looking Tharcourt up and down. With his uncanny senses, he could detect the injuries the man was suffering from. The mystical warrior was himself confused at how Commander Tharcourt was standing here speaking to him.
"The rebels have been eradicated." Vader stated.
"Yessir." Tharcourt returned, then winced in pain. It subsided a little. "They won't be…jacking shipments on that world again, milord…"
"I am told you lost two transports full of valuable starship fuel…" Vader began. Drakken was in no mood for splitting hairs.
"Small price to pay to dust those rebel bastards and save the day, my lord." He returned. "I was kinda hoping to run into that rebel pilot…bring him to you tied up in a bag and end this war…maybe next time." The temperature in the room became frigid as Vader stared at the injured man, breathing for several moments. Firmus' eyes grew wide with fear at his friend's remark.
"I pray that you are being honest, Commander." Vader advised. "Such things are not to be made light of."
"I…am being serious…sir." Drakken breathed. "If I could have done so, I would have gladly." Vader gave a slow nod. Nothing about what Tharcourt had said had the feeling of falsehood to him, and the dark side seemed to Vader to enshroud the Commander, humming contentedly as he exuded pure malice and bitterness.
"Commander. I advise that you find your way to a medical bay at once. Captain Piett, you will assist him."
"Yes, mylord!" Firmus nodded, practically holding Drakken up at this point. Vader turned and marched off. "Come on, old man…let's get you to sick bay." Tharcourt had pushed himself well beyond what his injuries would allow by now, and leaned on his old friend and mentor.
"I prom…promised Freya I would…" He managed to get out. Firmus nodded.
"Yes, I'm certain you did." He said, helping Drakken to the hatch. "I do not wish to test her patience either, my friend." He felt Drakken going limp and frowned. "Drakken. Drakken, you stay awake, do you hear me?" He shook the man as he mostly dragged him out into the corridor. Tharcourt's eyes flickered open.
"I'm still here, Firmus…" Tharcourt muttered. "…not dead yet." He started to drift away. Piett felt a sense of dire urgency, fearful for the first time that his old ensign and colleague might not make it. He dragged the wounded commander as quickly as he could toward the bank of turbolifts. "Commander Tharcourt!" He barked. "You stand to and look smart!" He threw Drakken into an empty lift, hopped in and press a button. "You are not dying on my watch, old man. You hear me?!" He knelt down and grabbed Drakken by the front of his cracked and broken breastplate and shook him. "Wake up, Drakken! Wake up, damn you!" Drakken's eyes flew open. "You stay conscious. The Empire needs you."
"Kriff the Empire…." Tharcourt rasped. He coughed violently and spit out a blood clot. "Freya…I can't…"
"Yes, you have to live for her too." Firmus agreed, his expression soured at Tharcourt's remark.
"Firmus…we gotta get out of here." Drakken said. "The Empire…they're gonna kill us…"
"Who's going to kill us?" Piett charged. "The rebels?"
"No…you're playing dumb…Firmus…the…the Empire."
"The Empire is going to kill the Empire…" Piett mused. "You're delusional with blood loss, Drakken." Tharcourt suddenly reached up and grabbed the captain by the collar.
"What the Hell did we get ourselves into, Firmus?!" He exclaimed, then fell back.
"Damn it…" Piett growled. He seized Tharcourt by the front of his breastplate. "Up! UP old man! Keep at it, we're almost there." The doors opened as he managed to haul Drakken to his feet, and Firmus stumbled into the corridor with him. He heard a distinctly feminine squeal, a long, keening squeak of anguish, and a black and pink-haired ISB officer in tight-fitting pants and stiletto heeled boots came running up. She froze just in front of them, staring with wide eyes at the injured commander, and put both hands to her mouth in horror for a moment.
"Ohmystars…Drak…" Zala finally recognized Captain Piett. "…Commander Tharcourt! Krinking Hell, what happened?!" Drakken opened his eyes and looked tiredly at Veruna. He made a low, growling sound that was close to basic speech.
"Got…shot…"
"Ma'am…can you help me?" Piett panted, eyeing the woman's rank plaque. "He needs medical…now." Zala put an arm under Drakken's other arm, the two of them supporting him better.
"I'm with you, captain." She stated. They began lugging him down the hall. "Hang in there, Drak." She grunted. "Come on…I know you're hella jacked up, but you gotta stay with us, alright?" She sighed.
"You know him? Firmus asked.
"Yes Captain. I'm the ISB commander on this ship. I know everybody…" She said, trying to keep herself from breaking down in tears by engaging in her tried and true defense of talking. "I know you had a pet tooka named Princess when you were little." Firmus scowled. Veruna glanced at Drakken and her lip trembled a bit. "We went on a mission together." She admitted. "It was wicked brutal. He saved my stupid butt…"
"Yes…he has a habit of doing that, ma'am." Piett commented. They stepped into the next lift and Zala pressed a button with the toe of her boot. "He was my ensign once, ma'am."
"I know, captain." She said. "And you can like stop with the flawsen 'ma'am' junk right now, Piett. All I care about is getting this guy to medical." Firmus smiled a little. "He kicks it, and Thorne's gonna beat the shaz out of me. Dunno why me, I have a feeling she will."
"Same here, Major." Firmus agreed.
"I…I'm still awake…" Drakken finally mumbled. "Mostly…probably not…" Veruna grabbed his chin with her free hand.
"Yeah, you're still alive, bae." She told him. "And you're gonna stay that way. You hear me? Don't you dare…" Drakken coughed, blood spattering his lips.
"Aw…you…you still like me…" He breathed. Zala blushed a little, embarrassed by his slip-up.
"Yeah. We all like you, you big idiot." She replied, brushing it off. "Two of your best friends are dragging you to the infirmary, and we're gonna be miffed if you die, Drak." He seemed unresponsive again, and as the doors to the lift opened, they hauled him out and down another corridor. They hurried into the next lift, and began the short trip down to the medical facility. Firmus and Zala shot each other a worried glance.
"He's not going to die." The captain said stolidly. "He cannot."
"No." She stated. "Not now…not this way." They dragged him off the lift, and a short distance down the hall to the hatch of sick bay. As they entered, the medical officer on duty jogged up upon seeing another injured Imperial officer. He took one look and Tharcourt, and went white in the face.
Drakken had a cut on his head that ran from above the hairline on the right side, all the way down to just above his left eyebrow. The left side of his face was completely covered in dried and fresh blood. His right eye was almost completely swollen shut, and blood covered his mouth and chin. The front of his cuirass was spiderwebbed from an impact from some heavy object, and the surgeon instantly recognized that whatever had caused this much damage to the thick armor must have done a tremendous amount of internal damage to the man's body. The commander's left bicep and left thigh were tightly bandaged, the sleeve below the dressing dark with blood.
"Orderlies!" He called. Two men in white uniforms ran up and took Tharcourt from Piett and Veruna. They immediately cut off the straps of his cuirass, and the armor fell to the floor, the rear panel breaking into three pieces when in impacted the deck, damaged from another blow. It was only now that the two officers noticed the blaster wound on his back. Drakken was taken to a table and placed on his back while the doctor did a quick examination of him, running a levitating bioscanner over his entire body.
"Drakken…" A pained voice called. Piett and Zala were joined by Freya as the doctor finished his diagnosis. She moved slowly and deliberately, her chest bound in bacta-soaked gauze. Her forehead was wrapped as well, and her right ankle was in a short splint.
"Vent him and give him painkillers." The surgeon ordered. "He has massive internal bleeding and multiple broken ribs. I want him in bacta with micro-surgicals to close those wounds! Now!" The orderlies rushed to get the commander prepped and treated before placing him in a bacta tank.
"He's…he gonnae be alright…right doc?" Thorne squeaked, tears in her green eyes. The surgeon sighed.
"I can give you a definite maybe, Lieutenant." He confessed. "I don't know how made it this far. We'll have to let the bacta and the surgical droids do their job and…hope." Freya wiped her eyes, and the doctor nodded solemnly and stepped away to monitor the filling bacta tank. Firmus stood in front of Thorne and put a hand on her shoulder.
"He'll make it, I think, Thorne…" He said. "Drakken's tough. He's always been." Freya grabbed the captain in a tight hug, and he awkwardly put an arm around her at pat her on the back.
"He cannae go where I can't follow." She whimpered.
"Thorne…if I know Drakken, he's going to be okay." Firmus assured her. "For you. He'd never leave you." She pulled away and sniffled. "He'd never leave someone he cared for." She nodded.
"He'll come back to us." She said defiantly. Piett nodded.
"I…I have to get back to the bridge." He said, and dallied a moment. "Let me know when he's recovered."
"I will." Freya whispered. He put a hand on her shoulder again, then departed from the room. Thorne and Veruna watched the tank containing Drakken fill with blue fluid, and Freya sobbed gently. She felt fingers entwine with hers, and squeezed Zala's hand softly.
"I know." The older woman whispered. "If I didn't have to be a B all the time…I'd be wrecked right now, sweetie…" Thorne glanced over at her, and saw the barest hint of tears in Zala's reddish-brown eyes. "I am…I totally am…on the inside."
"He won't stop…" Freya said softly. "He won't stop till there be nothin' left…and I'm scared. Scared, Veruna." Zala pulled her hand out of Freya's and took her by the arm.
"Come on hon…let's get you something to eat."
Wow...I mean, they're not wrong. Drakken's the kind of guy who won't give up on a fight, even if he knows it's unwinnable. Hopefully this isn't foreshadowing or anything. Nahhhh. They should be fine, right? Right?! And what do you think about Veruna? I know she wasn't the most likable character in the galaxy when we first met her, but now, she's showing who she really is deep inside. The lives that Drakken's changed and saved...on both sides. Let this be a lesson to all of you; If you have something bad happen to you...if you've suffered some kind of trauma, you can choose to be the kind of person who breaks, the kind of person who visits trauma on others, or the kind of person who tries to save others from going through what you had to go through. We have that free agency inside us. We can let the pain and darkness of the world make us monsters, or make us into good people.
Now enough philosophy. I'll have another chapter up soon, so hit that alert icon so you'll know when I update. You don't want to miss the last couple arcs of this story! Until next time my friends, Cheerio!
