General Skywalker is pacing, each movement of his body sharp and angry. His fists are balled, and his lips are curled into a scowl. His little hologram stalks across Senator Amidala's table. Hevy's temples are throbbing. The headache had come on without warning, and Hevy is pretty certain that it's not going to go away anytime soon.
Hevy feels physically ill. He knows that this situation isn't his fault; it's Burtoni's, but he feels like a failure anyway. He could have ignored her and left before she tried something, he could have stayed closer to Senator Amidala so that an order couldn't be given, he could have done something, surely… but it's too late to change any of that, now. Burtoni had tried to kill him. Pulling up the list upon their arrival at the Senator's apartment had shown that the order was a delayed self-termination command. He'd done a horrific job of hiding his shock from her. For all he knows, that's what had clued her in on the fact that the order hadn't had any effect—or perhaps it had been his lack of acknowledgement, or something else, he's still not sure and it's frustrating him to no end.
"I want you both out of there as soon as possible," the General growls, rage flashing across his face. "I'm not surprised that Burtoni is one of the people behind these chips. Kriffing slavers." He snarls out the last word with such venom that Hevy flinches.
"Anakin, I can't just leave," Senator Amidala protests. Hevy understands—he doesn't want to leave either, not when luck is just barely beginning to shine on them.
"We don't know what Senator Burtoni is capable of," General Skywalker retorts. "This just got ten times more dangerous than it already was." The General has a good point. Hevy can defend himself, but Senator Amidala is much more vulnerable.
"Senator…" Hevy says quietly, subdued, "All due respect, but… I think he's right. You should hide. Burtoni is going to come after me. I'm a threat, one that she doesn't understand yet. Kaminoans can't stand to be in the dark like that. They want to know every variable like the back of their hand, and they'll do anything to get the information they lack. I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire. They might even suspect that you know about the chips."
His initial panic has faded to be replaced by resignation. He's still afraid, but it's muted, somehow, by the fact that there are still so many unknowns that he doesn't even know what to be afraid of.
"I won't leave," Senator Amidala reiterates, lifting her chin. "I've been in these kinds of situations before. If I leave, this bill will fall through, and we'll be right back where we started. I'm needed here."
"You don't know that," General Skywalker says sharply. "Senator Organa is more than capable of continuing what you started. Padme—"
"Anakin," she interrupts, frowning stubbornly. "The Clone Rights bill isn't the only thing that I'm involved in. I won't leave my friends to fight their battles in the Senate alone."
"Ma'am, Burtoni gave me a self-termination order," Hevy says sharply. "It didn't work, but that doesn't change the fact that she isn't afraid to leave casualties. She wouldn't hesitate to kill you, either, if she saw a reason to!"
"Hevy's right," General Skywalker adds, crossing his arms over his chest. "This isn't your usual assassination ploy. The Kaminoans could be willing to go to great lengths to keep this secret—"
"I'm not leaving," Senator Amidala says, putting her foot down. "I will not run from this fight."
General Skywalker groans.
"You can't just—ugh! We're going to discuss this later, but there isn't time for this now," he says in exasperation. He turns to Hevy. "I want you to get back to the 501st as soon as possible. Flak, too. If I comm ahead, I can get you two access to a ship with a hyperdrive."
Hevy's eyes go wide. He can easily see the logic of the General's decision, but... to be torn away from Coruscant so abruptly makes his breath catch in his throat. He won't get to see the bill passed. He won't get to see the results of his struggles here firsthand like he'd imagined. It sends a pang of sorrow through his chest. He'd wanted to... hide, maybe, or at the very least stay with the Senator to protect her.
He'd known, inwardly, that this was the best option, that he would have to leave, but he had been hoping that there would be some other way to fix things. But there isn't.
"You don't think they'll target the 501st if I go back?" he asks, shifting his weight uneasily. General Skywalker huffs.
"Let them try," he replies forcefully. "We'll be ready for them if they do."
Hevy imagines General Skywalker introducing Senator Burtoni to the business end of his lightsaber. The thought makes him smile weakly despite his disappointment. He nods.
"Yes, sir. We'll have to make a quick stop at the barracks to collect a few things—"
"Hevy… that might not be the best idea."
Hevy frowns.
"I left my datapad there, sir—"
"The Guards are still chipped."
Hevy's heart plummets to his toes at the reminder. He closes his eyes. Kriff everything. The General is right. The Guards can't be trusted anymore, they could be completely compromised. Hevy doesn't know if Burtoni has been issuing them orders alongside the Chancellor, but he doesn't doubt that she can.
Force. He's not even going to get to say goodbye. The thought stings.
"...Yes, sir," Hevy acknowledges reluctantly. He knows that the General is right. They need to get out of here, and there's no time to waste. Senator Amidala sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I can take a message to them, if you'd like," she says softly. Hevy heaves a sigh.
"Better if you don't," he replies. "Safer that way."
She grimaces, pity flashing across her face. He shrugs helplessly. There's too much at stake. He thinks of Byte, laughing softly in Dexter's Diner. Of Rys and Thire clinging to each other, still hurting from their loss. Of Thorn, solid and steady, greeting them in front of the hospital with a kind handshake. Of Fox, buckling under unthinkable pressure but still clinging to the dregs of his hope.
Hevy is angry, suddenly. He and Senator Amidala have worked to change things, but it's still not enough. The Guards aren't even close to being free, less so than the rest of their brothers.
"I don't know if Senator Burtoni will use them, but we can't dismiss it as a possibility," General Skywalker says grimly. "We don't know what she's planning, so it's better to get you out now, before she makes her move."
Hevy lets out a long breath and nods.
"Comm ahead for us, sir," he says. "We'll get under way as soon as we can."
General Skywalker inhales slowly and runs a hand fretfully through his hair.
"I'm sorry," he says. "I know this isn't how you wanted it to end."
"It's not ending, sir," Hevy tells him, determination flashing through his veins like lightning. "Next time I come back here, I'm not leaving until my brothers are free."
General Skywalker smiles at him. There's something consoling and proud in the expression.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Hevy," he says gently. Hevy swallows, throat suddenly dry at his words, and blinks rapidly in an attempt to steady himself. "I'll make the comm. I'll let Beta squad know what's going on, too."
That is the sole comfort in all this, that Hevy's going to see his batchmates again.
"Thank you, sir. Tell them not to worry. They probably will anyway," he warns. General Skywalker lets out a tiny laugh.
"I will," he says. "Stay on your guard. We'll see you soon." Hevy salutes him, and General Skywalker disappears.
There is a moment of silence, where all Hevy can focus on are his swirling thoughts. He doesn't want to leave, not—not like this. He wants to see it through to the end. It's not in his nature to back out early. He'd seen things through all the way to his death, once, but… he doesn't have much of a choice this time, and despite everything, he's scared. There has never been such a prominent threat to everything they've worked for during their second lives.
Senator Amidala pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales very slowly. Hevy turns to her, nerves and guilt skittering down his spine.
"Senator, I'm so sorry." He doesn't even really know why he's apologizing. For the bother, perhaps, or for the stress that's ricocheting around the room.
"There's no reason to be sorry," she replies firmly, meeting his gaze. "It's not your fault, and I knew the risks when I agreed to help." She smiles at him suddenly, and he blinks when she grabs his hand and clasps it between her own. "This wouldn't have been possible without you, Hevy. You were the spark we needed to start the fire. You may have to leave, but what you've done will be remembered. I greatly value our friendship, and I'm grateful for the difference we've been able to make together."
He wonders if she could ever understand how much those words mean to him. He glances down at one of his gauntlets and the blue fire twisting across the plastoid. He'd died in flames once, hardly expecting to be remembered by anyone other than Echo and Fives. If anyone had told him, a lifetime ago, that one day he would be recognized by the entire Republic and achieve the close friendship of a Senator, he would have laughed himself sick. Words fail him, so he just looks at her and nods, squeezing his hand around hers lightly.
Senator Amidala's datapad chimes. She pulls away from him and checks the message, expression hardening as she reads.
"It's General Skywalker. He has your shuttle secured. Deck 15-C in the shipyard. You just need to get there, he's cleared you for the trip."
Hevy nods. Time to go. He picks up his helmet from the table and jams it on as Senator Amidala comms Flak. He picks up his blaster, too, squeezing the grip and allowing the familiar weight in his hand to comfort him.
"Flak, come in," Senator Amidala says.
"Here, ma'am," comes the drawled reply. "Your private chauffeur, at your service."
Senator Amidala smiles fondly, a hint of sadness visible in her eyes.
"Hevy is on his way to you. He'll explain everything when he arrives, but prep the ship for takeoff."
"Yessir." There's a brief pause. "Senator…? It's… been an honor. Thank you." Flak seems to already suspect their fate.
Senator Amidala sighs.
"Likewise, Flak," she says. "Safe flying."
"Always," Flak tells her. The comm cuts out.
"I'll keep you updated once you're back with the 501st," Senator Amidala tells Hevy. "We'll get this bill passed. Don't worry."
"I don't doubt it, Senator," Hevy replies. He salutes her solemnly. She tugs him into a gentle hug instead of returning the gesture, which he should have expected. He reciprocates clumsily. When she pulls away, she gives him a light little shove, a fond smile on her lips.
"Get going," she urges. "We'll be in touch."
There's a lump in his throat. He stares at her for a long moment, and then smiles back when Threepio, off to the side, waves an arm at him.
"Safe travels, Master Hevy," Threepio tells him. Hevy squares his shoulders.
"Thanks, Threepio. I'll be back, Senator. Stay safe," he says.
It's hard to turn and step out the door, but he manages to do so because the mantra of I'll be back is running through his skull, constant and strong. The three Coruscant Guards standing outside make him flinch for a moment. They start at his appearance, but none of them go for their weapons. Hevy is still clinging to the hope that perhaps Burtoni won't touch them at all, and that if she does, he'll be long gone beforehand.
"Something wrong?" one of them asks Hevy quietly. Hevy shakes his head.
"No, the Senator just wants me to run an errand for her," he lies, stepping past them easily. "I'll be back soon." His stomach clenches in sorrow. He wants to say goodbye, but it's too dangerous.
"Right. Take me with you?" one of the other Guards jokes good-naturedly. "I'd love a change of scenery right about now."
Hevy doesn't answer him, letting out a chuckle that sounds weak to his own ears and continuing on his way. He turns the corner and walks down the hallway heading towards the landing pad, breathing a bit easier once the Guards are out of sight.
The ship is already whirring like it's anxious to get off the ground when Hevy steps out onto the landing deck. It's unfortunate that this ship doesn't have a hyperdrive, otherwise they could be well on their way back to the 501st already. The switch in transportation shouldn't be too hard, not with General Skywalker pulling strings for them, but Hevy is antsy about it anyway—
He's halfway across the landing deck when a sudden sensation of crippling dread nearly knocks him off his feet. He stumbles, eyes going wide—the emotion isn't coming from him. He has no reason to feel dread, not as sharp and as acidic as he feels it now—the Force…?
Racing footsteps sound behind him. The dread snaps to a screaming demand to move, so Hevy moves. He flattens himself to the ground and rolls as three bright blue stun blasts soar over his head.
"No!" he gasps. Not yet—it's too soon—she couldn't have—!
But he turns and looks, and the three Coruscant Guards are scoping in on him, unyielding and robotic.
Kriff—!
The Guards fire on him again. Hevy hurls himself towards the edge of the landing platform and fumbles for his own gun to switch it to stun. He returns fire as he scrambles to his feet and knocks one unconscious, but the other two are firing again and Hevy doesn't have any cover, there's nowhere to run—
"Hey!" Flak shouts, emerging from the ship, gun in hand. "Over here!"
The two remaining Guards hesitate, caught off guard by his appearance. Flak stuns one in their moment of uncertainty. Hevy fires at the last one, wincing in sympathy as the Guard goes down hard, plastoid armor cracking against the durasteel platform.
"Force," Flak says, voice high in disbelief. "Kriffing—I can't believe this. I've known about the chips since Kix removed mine, but seeing it is…Force. The Guard… they're all…?"
Hevy nods grimly, adrenaline pounding through his veins.
"Burtoni didn't waste any time," he says, nervously looking into the sky, but no gunships have appeared yet. "I hoped she would wait a little longer. We've gotta get out of here."
Flak glances at the unconscious Guards, closing his eyes for a moment.
"There's nothing we can do for them?" he asks sorrowfully.
"I-I don't know," Hevy admits. "I… hope so. But we need to leave. General Skywalker has a shuttle for us in the shipyard."
"Yeah, okay, let's go," Flak agrees, hurrying for the ship. Hevy follows him. His comm beeps as Flak straps himself into the pilot seat, tapping at controls. Hevy answers his comm.
"Hevy?" Senator Amidala says, sounding alarmed. "What's going on, I thought I heard—"
"The Guard are after us, sir," Hevy tells her quickly as the ship rises from the ground. She lets out a quiet curse—he's never heard her swear before.
"I'm on my way down."
"No!" Hevy yelps before he can stop himself, and then swallows. "We're already getting out of here, ma'am. Stay in your apartment."
"I'm not helpless, Hevy."
He winces.
"I know, Senator. But… just be careful. Without you, our brothers will never achieve their freedom, and I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt. General Skywalker wouldn't either."
"Is there anything I can do to help, then?"
"Stay safe. We'll be fine," Hevy replies. He has to fight off a faint grin when her huff of annoyance is picked up by the comlink. She doesn't respond, though, and he frowns at his comlink when it lets out a burst of static.
"That's odd. We lost the signal, maybe," Flak comments as he weaves them around a large building.
Hevy narrows his eyes. Losing a signal here on Coruscant? That seems a bit suspicious. Flak tilts his head.
"Actually, it's more like… someone is jamming us—holy kriff!"
The shuttle shakes violently without warning. Hevy almost tumbles to the floor.
"Gunships! We've got company!" Flak shouts as several alarms begin to blare, the sounds grating and harsh. The ship jerks as blaster bolts skim over them, and two gunships come careening out of nowhere, swooping past them and banking to come around again.
"Well, I never cared much for air traffic laws, anyway." Flak's voice is tight. He sends them into a frantic dive without further warning. The engines whine in protest. Hevy scrambles to stay on his feet, grabbing at the wall to keep his balance.
"The turret!" Flak yells. Hevy hesitates.
"Flak, they're brothers—!"
"You don't have to hit them, just get them to back off!" Flak snaps, and then hisses when another blaster bolt strikes them and sends a shudder through the ship. "We won't make it otherwise!"
Hevy scrambles into the turret station, squinting as the display lights up under his fingers. It outlines his targets in bright red. Hevy ignores that and jerks the joystick to the side before firing. The spray of green laser fire goes wide, but the first gunship pulls back anyway, putting more distance between them. The second gunship increases speed and gets alongside them, out of range of Hevy's turret.
"Flak!" Hevy shouts.
"I see him!" Flak yanks the ship into a roll that nearly sends Hevy careening out of his seat. Flak weaves them around skyscrapers, swearing through gritted teeth and swerving to avoid civilian ships. The gunships follow doggedly. The low rumble of a gunship has never been so threatening in Hevy's ears.
"Two more gunships, ten o'clock, closing! They're coming from the direction of the shipyard!" Flak shouts. The pilot grips the controls so hard that Hevy is almost afraid that they're going to snap off. "We'll have to—kriff!"
The gunships fire on them again. The ship quakes. Hevy returns fire, clipping one of the new gunships on the wing. His breath hitches in his throat when it drops in the air, wobbling wildly. It doesn't go down, but it's a close thing.
"They're shooting to disable, our shields won't be able to hold for much longer!" Flak yells. The ship accelerates, spiralling upwards at Flak's command. Hevy fires in the general direction of the gunships again. They scatter. One gunship skims near enough to the window of a building that the pane of glass shatters.
"Hang on!" Flak orders. The ship abruptly slows to almost a complete standstill. Hevy jerks in his seat and nearly smashes his head into the targeting display. The gunships zip past them, unable to stop in time. Flak shouts in triumph. Instead of punching the accelerator, he allows them to just drop. Hevy bites his tongue as his stomach rises in his throat.
"Flak—!"
"I've got it!" Flak grits out. The engines of their shuttle groan as Flak uses the drop to flip them around and send them flying in the opposite direction. The gunships fall behind.
"Ha!" Flak exclaims. "Gunships are fast, but they can't pull off an easy one-eighty—they bank too slowly. I always said it was their one flaw."
"Great," Hevy forces out shakily. He swallows and wrinkles his nose at the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. "How far are we from the shipyard?"
"A few clicks," Flak answers, glancing back at him for an instant. "But the gunships are gonna catch back up to us. This ship isn't military-grade and the engines can't compete." He drops even lower in the sky as he speaks, steering them around a large cruiser and skirting around another air traffic lane. The radar beeps in warning as the gunships start to gain on them again.
Hevy takes a deep breath.
"What are the odds that they haven't locked down the entire shipyard already?" he mutters, and Flak glances at him again. His eyes are dark. He doesn't have to speak for Hevy to know his answer. "They can't possibly know that we're headed there, but they'll shut it down anyway just in case. They'll shoot us down before we can get close."
"So… where are we going instead?" Flak asks, his entire body twitching as the beeping of the radar intensifies. "The gunships will be in range soon—"
Hevy looks through the front viewport and sees one of the massive cylindric passageways leading down to Coruscant's underworld. He makes a snap-decision.
"Take us underground," he says. "We can try to lose the gunships there and buy some time. We need a new way to get off of this planet."
Flak nods curtly and drops them towards the busy passageway. Blaster bolts streak past them. One of the ships that they pass gets hit in the crossfire, flames igniting across its hull. Hevy shields his eyes. Fear roils deep in his gut.
Their shuttle continues to dive deeper into Coruscant's underworld. Flak keeps them rolling and swaying so that the gunships can't get a good shot in. The gunships are gaining, slowly but surely. Each spray of fire comes closer than the last. When the gunships are far too close for comfort, Flak chooses a level at random and jerks them out of the descent, barreling into a narrower tunnel. Suddenly there is a ceiling above them and a street below—there's still enough room to maneuver, but the ceiling is constricting. Flak lets out a tense breath. Behind them, the gunships buzz like giant angry hornets.
"Sithspit—I can't keep us at this speed here," he grits out worriedly. "We've got to slow down, but the gunships are on our tail, I can't shake them—"
Blaster fire rings out, and one of their engines explodes. Hevy gets flung from his seat, crashing awkwardly into the wall as alarms wail.
"No!" Flak yelps, but there's nothing he can do—they're going down. The ship is plummeting towards the ground. "Kriff, kriff, Hevy, hold on!"
There are civilians in the street. They start to scatter when they see the ship descending, and Hevy hopes that they're fast enough to get out of the way.
Everything is a blur. Hevy can't see, the alarms are shrieking and his brain is rattling around in his skull and he feels weightless—
Flak spins to him, hands reaching out. Hevy understands him in a startling moment of clarity. Flak is strapped into the pilot seat, but Hevy isn't tied down, and he'll go flying on impact—he lunges desperately for Flak's hands as the ground rushes up to meet them, and—!
The shinies are marching their way professionally out of the transport ship, putting themselves into neat little rows in the center of the Resolute's hangar. Echo stands at ease with the rest of Beta squad as a welcoming vanguard, waiting silently as the shinies disembark. A few other veteran squads are lined up with them, and Coric is here, too, fidgeting next to Del.
Fives, to Echo's left, seems far too gleeful as he stares at the shinies. The tilt of his helmet spells mischief. Echo resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
"I don't know what kind of hazing rituals you're planning, but stop it," he mutters. Fives snorts under his breath.
"You can't stop me," he whispers. Echo raises an eyebrow.
"I'm pretty sure I can."
"We'll see about that. Cutup will help me," Fives replies.
"Shh," Cutup says on Echo's right, and then hums thoughtfully, the hypocrite. "But Fives is right. I never even got to haze shinies last time. I'm looking forward to it."
Echo rolls his eyes.
"DB is with me, then. We can take you."
"Hang on, don't drag me into this!" Droidbait protests, sounding amused. "I don't think—"
Droidbait suddenly cuts himself off with a little gasp. Echo jerks his head up to see what he's looking at and glimpses blue instead of shiny white in the crowd. The shape of bold pauldrons and swinging kamas is strikingly familiar. He doesn't get a good look, because there's a company's worth of shinies standing in between them and the new ARCs, but there's no mistaking them for newbies.
The Teth survivors perk up. Echo looks at their eager frames and smiles fondly. Cutup is also shifting excitedly in place, anxious to see his friend again.
The hangar door slides open to reveal Captain Rex, who strolls into the room, body language loose and relaxed.
"Captain on deck, atten-tion!" someone shouts. Echo lets his body automatically comply with the order, in sync with the rest of the men. Captain Rex comes to a halt in front of the newcomers and surveys the crowd. He takes his helmet off, tucking it under his forearm.
"Gentlemen, good to have you aboard," Rex says. He doesn't raise his voice too much, just enough that everyone can hear him, but it carries in the silence. "My name is Captain Rex, but you'll call me Captain, or sir. I'm sure some of you have no doubt heard of this battalion before—that the men of the 501st are some of the best in the GAR." Rex pauses for a moment, a proud smile flashing across his face. "It's true. I want you proud of that, understand?
"Sir, yes sir!" the shinies thunder. Echo grins. He catches a few shinies raising themselves up onto their toes as subtly as they can to catch a better glimpse of the infamous Captain Rex.
"I expect the best from every single one of you," Rex announces, lifting his chin. "We've got a reputation to uphold, and I'm not about to let any other battalion outdo us. We'll show them how it's done, isn't that right, men?"
"Sir, yes sir!" the shinies repeat enthusiastically. Captain Rex nods and turns to glance meaningfully at Coric, who takes one sharp step forwards.
"You'll all be sent squad assignments through your helmet HUDs, as well as a time for an appointment in the medical bay with Coric and his crew," Rex continues. "They'll take good care of you, so long as you don't put up too much of a fight." Tentative laughter ripples through the ranks. Kix snorts.
"He's not joking," Nax mutters under his breath. Echo chuckles.
"Good. You seem to be a fine batch," Rex comments, sweeping his gaze around the hangar. "I look forward to working with you. That will be all. Welcome to your new home, boys. Dismissed!"
The shinies fall out of rank impressively fast as Rex turns on his heel and leaves them. Excited chatter fills the room, and buckets come off. Del, Coric, and Nax surge forwards without further prompting. Echo follows with Domino, leaving Kix, Jesse, and Hardcase to interact with the shinies.
It's been a long time since Echo's seen this much white. The shinies move out of their way quickly, eyes wide as they part to allow the more experienced clones through. Echo remembers when he had stared up at older clones with that same mixture of admiration and determination. Fives nudges him, snickering knowingly, and Echo steps on his foot in amused retaliation.
Tipper and Zeer have been absolutely swarmed by awe-struck shinies, but when Del calls their names, the new ARCs jerk around to face them, helmets tucked neatly under their arms. The shinies back off fast. Tipper's eyes light up. Zeer smiles.
Nax gets there first, grabbing Zeer by the shoulder and pounding him on the back with a relieved laugh. Del and Coric are a half second behind him. Cutup practically tackles Tipper in excitement, but his friend doesn't tip backwards like he would have the last time they saw him—Tipper just grins and shifts his weight lower to keep himself steady as he knocks their foreheads together lightly.
They look good. The sight of the ARC pauldron is enough to make Echo shift, missing the familiar weight over his shoulder for a moment.
Zeer has always been a man of few words, and he is so even now, tracing his fingers gently over Coric's crippled hand with a pained expression. His new armor is impressive. His chestplate is blue except for a white space in the center, where an unpainted section creates the outline of a shriek-hawk with wings stretching across Zeer's chest. Stripes run down his kama, and his helmet is completely blue, save two white circles resting above where his eyes would be.
"Holy kriff, I missed you guys!" Tipper says with a laugh, releasing Cutup. He's kept the same design as his old armor, blue swirls sweeping up his chest and curling around his vambraces. A long stripe runs from his forehead to his chin on his helmet, and a line of dots runs along the hem of his kama. Echo steps in to embrace him and Tipper obliges. Echo traces his hand around the silhouette of a rancor etched into the shoulder not covered by his pauldron—a memento from Felucia. A glance over at where Zeer is murmuring to Del confirms that the other ARC has the same decal.
"Welcome back," Echo tells Tipper joyfully. "How does it feel to finally be ARC?"
"Like a dream," Tipper admits, pulling away from Echo to rub the back of his neck. He moves fluidly now, confidence in every motion. Echo grins proudly. "I can't believe we actually passed. I wasn't sure I'd last."
"You were fine," Zeer tells him, nudging Tipper gently. There's an easy familiarity to the gesture that Echo understands intimately. He turns his head to meet Fives' gaze for a moment and then moves out of the way so that Fives can pound Tipper approvingly on the back.
"One day," Echo hears from behind him, the words whispered so softly that Echo almost doesn't catch them. He turns to see a shiny watching them, stars in his eyes as he gazes at the ARCs. He stiffens to attention almost automatically when he notices Echo's gaze on him.
"One day what?" Echo asks curiously. "Looking to be ARC, kid?"
The shiny somehow snaps himself into an even more rigid attention. Echo can't imagine the strain is good for his spine.
"Not just ARC, necessarily, sir," he says. "That's good, too. I wouldn't mind. But one day, I'm gonna be an officer." He says it firmly, without a shadow of a doubt. Echo believes him. He reaches out to clap the shiny on the shoulder and smirks when the kid blinks at him, bewildered by Echo's behavior.
"I believe you, kid," Echo tells him. "What's your name?"
"Uh—CT-0292. Vaughn, sir!"
"Okay, drop the sir," Echo says, waving one hand dismissively in the air. "Good grief, no need for that. Vaughn, huh? I'm Echo. I like your determination. You'll get there if you keep that up."
Vaughn practically glows, lifting his head high, and then falters when another shiny, hidden in the crowd, calls his name. He stares at Echo and the ARCs in front of him for a moment, torn, until Echo chuckles.
"Go on. You'll have plenty of time to watch them in action later."
Vaughn nods enthusiastically and disappears into the sea of shinies. Echo tilts his head. He doesn't remember ever meeting Vaughn during his first life.
"Don't think I'm not gonna haze him just because you like him, Echo," Fives jokes. Echo mock-scowls at him, then leans in a little closer.
"Any chance we'll find some of your old friends?" he asks. Fives stills.
"Maybe," he says. "I… honestly can't remember when Tup and Dogma joined the 501st. They weren't originally part of Torrent Company. I only met them just before we went to Umbara, but they'd already been in the battalion for a few months. Hardcase knew them for longer, but…"
"We'll keep an eye out just in case, then," Echo tells him. Fives gives him a grateful look.
Droidbait is hugging Zeer, eyes bright, and Zeer looks all too amused at the enthusiastic greeting. Echo is suddenly reminded of their first spar together as a team, when Attie had been alive and the rest of Domino had still been struggling to build up their skill sets. Droidbait had kneed Zeer right between the legs in an act of desperation when he'd been on the brink of losing a match, and the memory still makes Echo laugh. Echo moves in to greet Zeer with Fives and Cutup while Del, Coric, and Nax move to welcome Tipper. It feels right. Their brothers are finally home.
"Alright, alright," Coric finally says loudly, waving his hand to get Beta squad's attention after a few minutes. "We can catch up as we go, but I need Tipper and Zeer in the medbay as soon as possible, no ifs, ands, or buts." Tipper groans.
"Oh, come on, Coric! We've barely been here for ten minutes!" he cries dramatically. Coric raises an eyebrow at him.
"Absolutely not, Tipper. You aren't putting this off. It's too important. You two are going first."
"But I didn't say if, and, or but!"
Zeer tilts his head.
"What do you mean, going first?" he asks. Echo purses his lips. Tipper and Zeer have a massive amount of information to catch up on.
"Don't worry about it," Cutup tells Tipper gleefully. "It's just a little brain surgery, you'll probably be fine!" Tipper blanches.
"Brain surgery?" he repeats incredulously. "Tell me you're joking."
"Nope!" Cutup says. Tipper's eyes go wide.
"Sithspit. This is about those chips that you told us about right before we left, isn't it."
"Yeah, and we can fill you in about those, too, but we need to get you two to the medbay as fast as we can. There's no time to waste," Echo says.
Are you confused too? Tipper signs subtly at Zeer. Echo sees Cutup tracking the motion, the corner of his mouth twitching as he resists a smile. Zeer flashes the ARC sign affirmative back at Tipper, and then Cutup raises his hands.
It's okay. We'll tell you everything, he signs smugly. Tipper's mouth drops open.
"The—the kriff," he splutters. "Cutup, how do you know ARC sign? I saw you sign with Domino before we left but—I thought it was just something you made up as batchmates, what—?"
Fives cackles at Tipper's dumbstruck expression.
"At this point, we don't even need the shinies—we could probably just mess with them!" he says. Echo rolls his eyes. Zeer frowns at them.
"We'll explain everything, once we get to the kriffing medbay," Coric urges. "Now come on!" He turns and starts making his way to the hangar doors. The others follow him without further prompting—Tipper pauses and waits for a heartbeat until Zeer falls into step beside him.
There's a bit of good-natured shoving and light-hearted banter. Echo is laughing at a joke Cutup had made when they leave the hangar and step into the hallway. Del's comm goes off without warning. He signals for them to quiet down, a fond smile playing across his lips, before answering.
"Del, are you with the rest of Beta squad?" General Skywalker asks urgently. His voice cuts through the air like a whip-crack. Echo stiffens at the Jedi's tone. Something is wrong. The joyful, comfortable atmosphere they've been enjoying is sucked away in an instant. Everyone goes tense.
"Yes, sir," Del replies warily, and then hesitates. Jesse, Kix, and Hardcase aren't here. "Uh, actually no, sir. I've got the Beta squad from a few months ago with me. Should I comm Kix?"
"Not if he's busy in the medbay, but get Jesse and Hardcase," General Skywalker replies. He sounds grim. "I've got bad news. Hevy's been compromised."
Echo's heart stutters in his chest. Del stops walking in the middle of the hallway.
"Sir?" Del says, a hint of fear in his voice.
"He and Flak are on their way back to the 501st." Echo exhales harshly and puts his hand on Droidbait's shoulder—his batchmate is frozen, eyes wide. "I'll explain everything, can you meet me on B deck?"
"Yes sir. We're en route," Del says sharply, spinning on his heel to hurry in the opposite direction—the rest of Beta and the new ARCs form up around him instinctively as they break into a jog. Fives is already on comms, calling Jesse and Hardcase.
Hevy's been compromised. Echo doesn't know what that means, exactly, because compromise could suggest any number of different scenarios, but none of them are good. Hevy is on his way back, but that doesn't change the fact that something has gone wrong, and Echo is terrified of what that might mean for the rest of their plans and Hevy.
Someone slaps him across the face.
"Hevy! Kriffing get up, already!" someone hisses, quiet and desperate. Hevy jerks, sucking air into his lungs, but before he can make any noise, a hand is clamped over his mouth. Hevy thrashes instinctively until Flak slaps him again, half-pinning him to the ground with his body weight. Hevy goes still.
He's laying on the ground in a dark alley, Flak above him holding on to his shoulders tightly. Faint shouting emanates from behind them, and Flak's eyes flick back fearfully. Hevy swallows nervously, meeting Flak's gaze and nodding slowly so that Flak knows to take his hand away from Hevy's mouth. Their helmets have been removed, and are nestled up against the wall.
"Force," Flak whispers shakily. "Took you long enough."
"Where…?" Hevy croaks out. Flak exhales in relief.
"We crashed. You were knocked unconscious. I guess it was my turn to drag you from a destroyed ship," the pilot says. He shuffles off of Hevy, and a sharp snap sounds as he moves. Flak winces. Hevy jerks his head up.
"You're—you're injured," Hevy says. He makes an attempt to sit up and hisses when his head spins. Flak pushes on his chest so that he lies back down.
"Relax, I'm fine," Flak huffs. "It's just my knees, they crack like that sometimes since my surgery. Hold still."
"Oh." Hevy flinches as the roar of a gunship sounds in the distance. "The Guard?"
"They're looking for us," Flak admits, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "They want us alive. The gunships dropped off squads."
"Sithspit," Hevy breathes, and for just an instant, closes his eyes and tries to pretend like he isn't here. That he isn't being hunted down by his friends, that their plans haven't been put into complete jeopardy.
"I found your DC-15S, but there wasn't time to get anything else out of the wreckage," Flak tells him. Hevy's eyes snap open. Focus. He takes a deep breath and sits up again, wincing as his head throbs in protest. He skims a hand over his skull and winces when he finds the painful goose egg on the side of his head.
The odds of them escaping this unscathed, without weapons and a ship, are slim. Flak knows it too. The pilot slumps down next to Hevy, head bowed. They sit in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, processing. It's terrifying how quickly things have gone wrong. Hevy feels overwhelmed, but… there's no time. They've need to move.
"We've got to find a way out of here," Hevy says, and pushes himself to his feet. Flak rises with him, face pale. He reaches out to steady Hevy. Both of them flinch as faint voices come just into hearing range—their own voices. Hevy's chest constricts abruptly.
"They're so close," Flak murmurs, clenching his fingers around the gun in his hand. "And when they find us, they'll call the rest."
"We can't let them find us then." Hevy's mouth is dry. He reaches down to pick up their helmets and shoves his own on, wincing as it jostles his head injury. He hands the other to Flak. Hevy takes a few staggering steps and finds his balance. He nods in grim approval as his body obeys him. He feels like bantha poodoo, but there's not much he can do about that. Flak cringes.
"Sithspit, be careful!"
Hevy would like to be more careful, but they can't really afford to.
"We've got to move." Hevy heads down the alleyway towards the main street, shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear it. Flak hurries after him.
"If we can get our hands on a civilian ship, we could get off of Coruscant," Flak suggests quietly. "I doubt we'll make it to the shipyard, and even if we do, I doubt they'll just let us take General Skywalker's shuttle."
Stealing a ship isn't ideal, but they might be just desperate enough to try.
"Keep your eyes open for options then," Hevy whispers, peering around the corner and exhaling in relief when he finds an empty street. The civilians have hidden themselves, undoubtedly nervous to emerge with the gunships swooping overhead. "But we've got to lose the Guard first." He beckons for Flak to follow him and crosses the street at a sprint, glancing around him and keeping his steps as light as he can. He darts down another alleyway for cover. Flak is right behind him.
"Where are they?" Hevy wonders under his breath. He tries not to think of the fact that their enemies are their brothers right now. "We could hear them, they've gotta be around here somewhere." Flak shrugs helplessly.
The flickering neon signs hanging above the nearby establishments cast an eerie glow across the street. Hevy scans their surroundings as quickly as he can—no speeders, nothing that could be used as a weapon, just a large crate abandoned on the ground that could be used for cover. Suddenly several clones in red armor appear in a crossroad down the street. Their weapons are at the ready. Hevy jerks his head back into the alleyway with a muffled curse.
"A patrol," he hisses to Flak. They listen in tense silence as the clones advance. Quiet chatter fills the air.
"Nothing here, sir. No sign of them yet."
"Check every alley. We can't risk them slipping past us," a curt voice orders. Hevy's heart sinks.
"You know, if they weren't looking for us, I'd be impressed with how thorough they're being," Flak whispers through clenched teeth. The pilot checks, then double checks that his gun is set to stun. Hevy's fingers twitch, seeking a weapon that isn't there. He needs a gun.
"Well, we can't avoid them. Our options are fight, or run," he says grimly.
"They'll catch us if we run. They're too close."
"Then we fight," Hevy replies. His stomach squirms in discomfort. He sees his own hesitance reflected in Flak's expression, but they don't have any other choice.
"I'll wait until one is closer, so you can have a chance at getting your hands on a gun," Flak says. He shifts so that he's in front of Hevy, weapon at the ready. They press themselves a little closer to the wall, mindful not to touch it so that their armor doesn't scrape against the metal.
There's no chance to really think—a Guard steps into view, and he's still far away but he'll see them if they wait any longer. Flak stuns him before he can even cry out. It's the split second of confusion among the rest of the squad that allows Hevy time to dart out of the alley, lunging for the gun that clatters to the floor.
"There!"
Shots ring out. Hevy gets his hand around the gun. He scrambles to put himself behind the crate that he'd noticed earlier. A stun bolt strikes the ground next to him, too close for comfort. He comes up against the crate and fires a blind shot around it. It's already set to stun. The squad of Guards shout in alarm.
Suddenly everything goes silent. Hevy pants, glancing back to see Flak peering out around the corner of the alley.
"CT-782, you're being called in for questioning," a clone announces. Hevy risks poking his head above the top of the crate to see and flinches. A familiar figure stares back at him, pistols drawn. Fox stands unyielding in the middle of the street, flanked by his men.
Of course it would be him. Fox has never let his men do the hard work alone.
Hevy feels a flash of fear. He remembers Fives, and wonders numbly if Fox's gun is really set to stun or if this will be a horrible recreation of Fives' death.
"Lay down your weapons," Fox continues, voice full of steel. "You're coming with us."
"Fox… just… think about this, for a second," Hevy growls desperately, breath stuttering in his chest. He knows that no amount of rationalizing will be enough to talk Fox down—he isn't himself. None of them are.
"Surrender," comes the curt order. Hevy takes a deep breath.
"Sorry, sir," he mutters. He drops low as he swings around the crate to fire from ground level so that they can't target him as quickly. He gets off a few shots as the Guards scatter, dodging towards the edges of the streets. Flak fires as well. One Guard drops, but there are a good five more of them including Fox. Not great odds.
"We need to get out of here!" Flak yells over the sound of blaster fire, jerking himself back into cover to avoid a few stun blasts that slam against the wall. "They'll have called backup by now!"
Flak is right. They're still out in the open, and if a gunship shows up, they're done for. Hevy scans their surroundings desperately again. The alley where he had regained consciousness had been a dead end, but that doesn't necessarily mean all of them are.
The Guards have taken cover in the openings of alleys and shop doorways. Every so often one will dash to a closer hiding spot. They aren't pushing, though, and Hevy suspects it's because they're waiting for something. That's not good.
There are more alleys further down the road—possible options, if only to distance themselves from Fox. The entrance of one of them seems to be much larger than the rest. A side street, perhaps? Hevy is willing to take that chance, because he can hear the hum of an approaching gunship. He flicks his gun off of stun and aims high, targeting the neon signs above them. When he fires, they shatter, sending sparks and glass tumbling to the ground. He hears someone shout in alarm. For a moment the Guards stop shooting.
It's enough. Hevy signals to Flak and dashes down the street, turning down the side road before the Guards can regain their senses. This street is less lit. The street lamps flicker unsteadily. A few of Coruscant's homeless flinch back silently under an awning as Hevy and Flak sprint past.
The sound of the gunship is louder now. Hevy's heart is pounding a hole through his chest. A shadow swoops over them as the gunship passes, but the sidestreet is too narrow for it to enter. Thank the Force.
"It's dropping off another squad," Flak pants. "We've gotta get out of the street." The pilot's knees are clicking irregularly as he moves again. He probably hasn't run this hard since before Geonosis, and whatever was done to his legs during the surgery is struggling to keep up. Hevy is worried for him. There's no way to know how long they'll be running. The road curves, and—
Red armor, directly in front of them in the crossroads. Three Guards. Hevy jerks his gun up and fires automatically. Too late he realizes that he hadn't changed it back to stun after shooting out the neon lights. The blaster bolt slams into the Guard's shoulder. Hevy backpedals, struggling to control a surge of horror as the Guard cries out in pain—no, no, no—
"Hevy, duck!" Flak shouts. Hevy drops. Flak fires over his head, knocking the wounded Guard unconscious and downing the second as well, but the third Guard dodges. He raises his gun. Hevy gasps as he recognizes the armor, the wings etched into the side of the helmet. Hevy reaches to switch his own gun to stun but he's not fast enough.
"Thorn, don't—!"
Thorn's stun bolt slams into Flak's chest. The pilot staggers and drops. Hevy throws himself to the side and fires at Thorn. The frantic motion makes his shot go a little wide. It glances off of Thorn's shoulder. The Guard's entire body jerks, but he doesn't fall until Hevy stuns him a second time, crumpling to the floor.
For a moment all Hevy can do is stare at Thorn's unconscious form. Hevy's chest heaves as he struggles to control his breathing. He feels cold.
Then he hears shouting behind them. Fox's squad is approaching from the rear. Flak is knocked out, and in a few moments, Hevy is going to be vastly outnumbered.
Panic surges through his veins for a moment as he searches desperately for an escape route. They can't keep running through the streets. There's a manhole cover in the middle of the street—it's a possible option. But Fox's team is too close. Hevy won't be able to get himself and Flak inside before they arrive without a distraction.
Hevy doesn't have anything more than a DC-15, but Thorn is fully kitted. Hevy kneels at the fallen Commander's side and rolls him over. Thron's belt is full of explosives. Hevy curls his fingers around two thermal detonators.
He hurls the first detonator down the street towards the incoming Guards. He doesn't put enough force behind the throw to reach them. He's not trying to kill them, just keep them away. It explodes somewhere in the middle ground between them. Hevy shields his eyes and grabs Flak, hauling him towards the manhole. He throws the second detonator with one hand as he pries at the manhole cover with the other. The Guards stop advancing, but the explosions aren't exactly subtle. A gunship swoops overhead. Hevy is blinded by a spotlight from the ship, but it's too late to stop him from pulling Flak awkwardly to his chest and dropping them into the darkness of the sewer.
Luckily, it's not a long fall. Hevy stumbles and nearly loses his grip on Flak when his feet impact with the floor, sending ripples of pain from his ankles to his knees. His back throbs in protest. There's an inch of water on the ground and pipeworks branching out around him.
Hevy already knows that he's going to get lost. With any luck his pursuers will, too.
He hauls Flak over his shoulders into a fireman's carry and chooses a tunnel at random, moving as quickly as the pilot's weight will allow. He follows it until he comes to another fork and picks a new tunnel to follow, adrenaline surging when a shout echoes through the darkness from a ways behind him.
He doesn't stop, doesn't think about where he's going—he concentrates on the weight of Flak on his shoulders and the pressure of his feet against the durasteel below him. He takes as many turns as he can in an attempt to throw off the Guards. He just knows that he has to get away.
He runs for so long that the reverberating voices behind him eventually fade. The only sounds are his own ragged breathing and the water sloshing around his boots. He's lost them, but that doesn't mean he can stop yet.
Hevy doesn't know for how long he runs. His lungs start to burn eventually along with his back, aching from the effort it takes to keep Flak from falling to the floor. The last time Hevy carried a wounded brother like this was Felucia, and the odd wave of nostalgia is what finally prompts him to slow his pace, shifting Flak to a slightly more comfortable position as he keeps going.
He doesn't want to stop moving. It's too risky—they can't afford to be captured, and he's so caught up in the frantic desire to distance himself from the Guards that he almost misses the tiny little tug in his gut, a hint of something otherworldly and warm. He notices it at the last second and pauses, glancing up. A sliver of light is just visible, extending up the small access port above him that he would have missed completely had he not stopped. A ladder stretches up to the hatch. It's barely visible in the dull lighting.
It takes far too long for Hevy to get Flak up the ladder. Hevy fumbles for the latch of the access port with one hand. When it finally slides open, he scans the area to see if the coast is clear. He doesn't see any movement, so he shoves Flak out onto the floor, wincing inwardly at the way Flak's arms get trapped beneath him before Hevy can right him.
They're in some sort of warehouse, surrounded by crates that seem to have been here for a while. Every movement Hevy makes kicks up a cloud of dust. A high ceiling stretches above them.
Hevy closes the access port behind him and sits down hard. His heart is still pounding in his ears, and he forces himself to stay still until he's a little more calm, until he can breathe normally.
Hevy's not sure where they are, but he's not going to be able to get much further with Flak unconscious. At the very least, they can hide here until Flak wakes up. The Guards won't find them quickly—there are enough tunnels that they can't guess where Hevy could have gone, and there are so many access ports leading in and out that they won't even know if Hevy is still underground or not.
For the moment, they're safe.
Flak doesn't stir when Hevy shakes him. Hevy takes the pilot's helmet off to check his pulse and glance at his pupils—he's going to be alright, but it will be a few hours before his body recovers from the stun blast. There's nothing to be done for him, so Hevy reaches for his comm with shaking fingers instead. Senator Amidala answers immediately.
"Hevy, are you alright? Your signal cut out, we couldn't get through to you, what happened? Are you—?"
"Senator," Hevy croaks out. "We got shot down."
She inhales sharply.
"Are you injured? Where are you?"
"Flak is unconscious," Hevy tells her. "I'm alright. I don't know where we are. They were chasing us—we're hunkered down in some sort of warehouse, but I'm not sure what level we're on, much less the sector."
"Force," Senator Amidala whispers. "You won't be able to get to the ship, then."
Hevy's throat is dry. He tips his head back to lean it against the crate behind him.
"No, ma'am. I... don't think so. We'll have to find another way." She doesn't say anything for a long moment. Hevy takes a deep breath. "Senator, you've got to get out of there. They're going to go after you as well."
Senator Amidala takes a moment to respond.
"They haven't yet," she replies half-heartedly.
"But that doesn't mean they won't," a different female voice comments. The sound is a little distorted—the newcomer is also on comms. "General Skywalker was right to contact me, my lady. You would have done something foolish, I'm sure. You must listen to us. This is the only way you will be kept safe from harm."
"But where does that leave you?" Senator Amidala challenges. Hevy blinks, officially lost. "I will not allow you to risk your life for me this time. You aren't one of my handmaidens anymore, I don't care what Anakin says. I can—"
"I'm not offering my help because I was your bodyguard. I'm agreeing to help because you are my friend. The state of things tells me that the situation is more serious than you expected, and you must survive it in order to help the galaxy. If you are killed, or if the information you are carrying is exposed, all is lost."
"Senator… what's going on?" Hevy asks when Senator Amidala doesn't immediately respond to her new companion. Senator Amidala sighs.
"Hevy... this is Sabe. A few years ago, she was one of my royal handmaidens. She lives here on Coruscant now—we've tried to stay in contact. She's a good friend."
"General Skywalker and I have come up with a plan to keep the Senator safe," Sabe says. "I may not have been in her service recently, but I trained for years so that I could easily impersonate Padme."
"You're going to impersonate her?" Hevy asks, eyes wide. "They could kill you. They could—Force, they could torture you, or—"
"I barely know anything about you, trooper, much less why you are running," Sabe says. "The Senator will brief me on the necessary information. When I am summoned for questioning, I will know just enough that the ruse is believed, and just little enough that I am not a threat. I know the risks, and I am willing to play my part."
"It's too dangerous!" Senator Amidala protests in agitation. "Sabe, I will not allow this!"
"You do not have another choice. You cannot run, nor can you fight, and if you are captured, all of your efforts will have been in vain." Sabe's voice is sharp.
"This is ridiculous," Senator Amidala fires back. "No. I'll do this myself. They won't harm me. I am a Senator of the Republic, there would be significant political repercussions if they were to kill me—"
"That cannot be guaranteed," Sabe points out. "What if our opponent does not care if there are repercussions?"
"They should," Senator Amidala snaps, but it sounds a bit desperate. "Sabe..."
"This is our best course of action." Sabe's voice suddenly goes gentle for a moment. "Padme. Let me do this for you. You are worried for my safety, and I appreciate the gesture, but I am very good at my job. They will not catch me. You and I have both been in much more dangerous situations than this."
Senator Amidala lets out a shaky breath. She doesn't speak for a long moment.
"Fine," she finally says, voice trembling. She doesn't sound like she really thinks it's fine, but she acquiesces without further argument. Sabe's reasoning is sound. "I just—fine. Hevy... how can we help you?"
"I… I don't know. We need a ship, but I don't even know where we are. And I can't go anywhere while Flak is recovering." A new kind of panic is slowly blooming to life in his gut. They've avoided the Guard temporarily, but true escape is looking less and less likely with every passing moment. The Guards are going to be stepping up their search efforts, and they're a force to be reckoned with.
"We can trace your comm signal to find out where you are," Senator Amidala says. She sounds hesitant and distracted. Hevy can't blame her. "I… don't know how we can get you a ship, but we'll see what we can do. There has to be something..."
"Senator," Sabe interrupts. "I am on my way to your position. I need you to brief me while there's still a chance. We don't know when the attack is coming."
"Don't worry about us, Senator," Hevy says—it sounds weak to his own ears, and he hopes that they can't hear it over the comms. "Your safety is just as important as ours. We'll be alright until you can get your own situation under control." He's not sure if that's a lie or not yet.
"Hevy, you can't expect me to—"
"I promised General Skywalker that I would watch your back, and I may not be there with you right now but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to keep that promise," Hevy says sharply. "We're fine. Now you need to make sure you aren't in danger."
She doesn't say anything for a few moments. Hevy knows that she's upset.
"We'll comm the moment we have more information for you," she finally says. Her words are sharp with frustration. "We're not leaving you down there alone. Stand by." The signal cuts out, and she's gone. Hevy feels a surge of relief.
At the very least, the Senator will be safe.
He scoots himself closer to Flak and looks up at the ceiling, at the deactivated lights and the beams crisscrossing across the ceiling. He hopes that the Guard he'd accidentally shot with a blaster bolt instead of a stun blast isn't too badly injured.
The feeling of helplessness that suddenly seizes him is crippling. He buries his face in his hands and closes his eyes. His batchmates have been mentioning meditation recently, and he tries to center himself and find the priceless peace that they've spoken of, but it doesn't seem possible. Hevy is too tired and afraid—not just for himself, but for his friends as well.
"How are we gonna get out of this one?" Hevy asks out loud. His voice echoes around the room. He feels very small.
The dusty warehouse is silent, and doesn't supply him with an answer. He bites the inside of his cheek and resigns himself to the wait.
A/N: Lol my goal was to keep this chapter somewhere around 8k and I failed miserably, whoops
ALSO I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW that the temptation to make this a HORRIFIC cliffhanger at the end was EXTREMELY strong. I almost did, but the chapter became a little too long and I decided to wait. Also I don't want people with pitchforks showing up on my front door. So you've been spared, for now.
All the love to lancerfate who helped me work through some difficult plot points and edited this as usual!
So... I dunno if it's actually possible to resist a stun bolt, even if you aren't hit full-on, but that was mostly just an homage to the fact that Commander Kriffing Thorn takes 3 blaster bolts to the chest and keeps going. Eh, I feel like he could shrug off one badly-aimed stun bolt. What a legend.
I've come to the realization that there are a lot of new readers who are just jumping into this fic, welcome! If you haven't seen the tag on my previous chapters, you're always welcome to come scream with me on tumblr! meridiansdominoes! Love you all, thanks for reading! :)