IE XXIII: FEAR IS THE WOUND
Run. Run. Run.
There is nothing else Eva can think of as her screaming thoughts echo through her mind. She slams the doors open and runs out of the spaceport terminal. The Artefact is tightly squeezed under her armpit as the sour ash prickles in her nose. The echoing screeches of blasterfire echo from far and beyond as Eva's eyes land on a lonely avenue heading out of Capital Stargate.
She's almost there. A smile forms on her face. If she reaches that avenue and makes it to the other end, this battle will be over before the night has fallen. With a little bit of fortunate timing, Eva will run directly into the hands of the ISB and the Army, rushing in to decimate the Rebel insurgents. Once they have the Artefact, Kishtung will have no chance of ever getting it back. This weapon is capable of destroying city blocks. The quicker it is with the authorities, the sooner Kishtung is defeated.
Eva squeezes the Artefact under her armpit further. This has to get there no matter what.
Her footsteps pound on the pavement as Eva dashes past burning wreckages of speeder cabs, until she stops in her tracks with her heart plummeting in her chest. Her feet skid over the tarmac, almost slipping off the edge as Eva stands before a gaping hole in the avenue, splitting the road in two. With the sweat beading on her forehead, Eva peers down. The drop might be three storeys high, and the distance between her and the other side of the road is at least a dozen speeder cabs in length. She won't make the jump.
Dank Ferrik. They must've blown this up to hold the Army back.
Eva's eyes dart around, searching if there's a way to traverse the hole. She spots a light pole. It is bent, leaning towards the other end of the avenue. She can use that to jump to-, no. Too dangerous. She wouldn't make it.
Eva curses under her breath. Maybe that speeder cab. It barely balances on the edge with its hood dangling down. No. If she'd step on it, she would move its center of weight. It would plummet down and its engine would explode along with her.
Come on, this plan can't collapse here, right now. There has to be a way of getting to the other side.
Then, a sharp screech erupts from behind her. Eva spins around, her heart beating like artillery fire. Kishtung's burning blade cuts deep into the metal torso of a KX security droid. Sparks erupt from its head as the Twi'lek's head snaps to her. A shiver runs down her spine as Eva realises that the squad's attempt at holding her occupied has failed. Did Peyton's fire strategy only work temporarily? Doesn't matter. She's here.
And there's no chance she'll make it to the other side of the split avenue by jumping. She has to get away from her and keep the Artefact as far away as possible. She has to find another way.
Eva forces herself to run as she feels the burning eyes of the Twi'lek chasing her. She sprints off the avenue and onto the sidewalk, her mind trying to calculate another escape route as she runs aimlessly into a direction. She bolts into the terminal where the floor tiles crack under her boots. Eva glances over her shoulder with fear gripping her heart. The hallway behind her is desolate, devoid of anything but smoke, but she notices something. The darkness grows darker, and then, she spots a silhouette jumping from shadow to shadow.
"Dank Ferrik," Eva wheezes.
Gasping, Eva's eyes dart around. She has to get out of this terminal or this killzone is where she'll find her fate. Eva spots a door, leading to a restricted area. Whatever that area may be, it may offer her a getaway route.
Eva pounds the door open and runs into a corridor, leading to a metal staircase. She runs down as a wall of cold air crashes into her face. Jumping off the last step and landing on the metal floor, Eva stops in her tracks. She's below the terminal. Everywhere she looks, massive conveyor belts once carrying the luggage of passengers sprawl through a hall that seems to have no end in sight. This must be the baggage direction bay. Conveyors everywhere, filling the burning silence with hums, distracting movement of luggage, a room so large it has no horizon - Eva's heart leaps. This might be the place to lose Kishtung's chasing heels and get the hell out of here.
Squeezing the Artefact in her armpit, Eva sprints through the alleys between the conveyor belts. Her footsteps pound below her as she frantically looks around, searching for some form of emergency exit. There has to be one nearby.
Then, a shadow. Eva halts and jumps to a pillar. Her back crashes into the concrete as her lungs burn in agony. Her heart pounds against the Artefact, squeezed between her arms and her ribs. Amidst the pounds of her heart, faint footsteps echo through the darkness. On the wall across from her, Eva spots a blurry shadow, a waving robe and a head with two lekkus, moving slowly and deliberately.
Eva buries her face in her hands. Shit, she's here.
Her eyes dart to her blaster, hanging from her belt. Eva snickers. Will that ever do a thing against her?
Eva knows she can't fight her alone. She must escape. There is no alternative.
As the faint fire alarm upstairs echoes through the baggage direction bay, the demon's footsteps shiver through the floor.
"Eva…" A sigh erupts from somewhere behind her. "I thought you knew better."
Eva remains still, breathing as quietly as possible.
"Hiding isn't a lasting strategy," Kishtung continues. Her voice drifts between the belts.
Slowly, Eva shifts to the corner of the pillar and peeks over the edge. Between moving crates, she spots a dark shadow, moving around. She's hunting her. Eva's eyes dart around, frantically searching for a way out of this building. The longer she waits, the quicker she'll find the end of it. With fighting being no longer an option now, Eva has to escape, make distance, and lose Kishtung's shadow. But she knows that isn't easy. One wrong step and she's dead. Dank Ferrik. I need the others.
The footsteps grow heavier, as if a vengeful shadow morphs into a hungry beast, longing for blood to drink.
"Someone's seconds are ticking away," Kishtung murmurs, her voice echoing through the hall.
She rolls her eyes. Keep on GONKing, scum. At least it buys me some time.
Her eyes land on a computer console further away, a good hiding spot away from her. With burning nerves, Eva shifts onto her toes and sneaks to the computer console. Eva hurdles around the corner and pushes her back into the back of the desk, curling up as her heart pounds against her ribs.
The faint footsteps echo off the metal floor. Kishtung's footsteps seem further away as she can hear her nerves burning below her skin, radiating a tense hum ringing in her ears, throbbing with each artillery blast of her heart. Eva squeezes the Artefact.
Her fingers slip to her wristlink as she slowly moves it to her chin. Roslin, Peyton, Ashara, anyone - she needs help. She can't escape alone. She can't take the risk alone.
"Sssshh, anyone there?" Eva whispers.
Like a breeze of warm air, Roslin's soft voice erupts from her wristlink. "I read you, Eva."
Eva's hands rush to cover its speakers, muffling as much sound as possible. Her breath trembles. "I need help, I'm stuck."
Then, Eva jolts to a sudden stomp, echoing through the hall. What's she doing? Turning every box upside down?
"Where are you?" Roslin asks.
Eva slowly leans closer to her wristlink. A ghost-like void looms over her, pulling onto every hair on her skin. From afar, the electrifying presence of the hunter puts her nerves on constant alert.
"I don't know where," Eva whispers, trembling. "I think… I'm in the baggage direction bay, below the terminal."
"Eva, time is on neither of our side," Kishtung growls with a taunting tone. "I long for freedom. I want to escape this forsaken moon before the authorities close in - with the Artefact."
Listening, Eva gasps heavily, trying to cool down her lungs. Escape? I'm sure you won't.
"And you… It will be a matter of time before the Force senses you. The shivers, the cold sweat, the ragged gasps." Her voice then turns slow, deliberate and calculative. "Your fear is your blood. Your feelings are your wounds. And for a wounded soldier in battle, twilight nears."
The lights above her flicker.
"The same goes for Eline."
Eva's heart stops. Her stomach wrenches at hearing her sister's name coming out of the snake. Eline? What about her?
"She's resilient, but she can barely stand," Kishtung continues. Her voice turns sharp, almost enraged. "Eva, her time is running out. I can kill you quickly, but before I've done that, Eline is already on the first step to the heavens."
Eva's eyes narrow. Her nails dig deep in her palms as her blood runs to a boiling point. Scumbag. You're the reason she's dying. You're the kriffin' reason she's in so much agony. Knight of the so-called Light? Yeah, my kriffin' ass.
Her lips twist with vengeance. "You're a dead man," she whispers, forcing each word out of her clogged throat.
Eva shifts to the edge and glances over the corner. Kishtung isn't in sight - probably further away behind some conveyors or machinery. But she knows she's here. These are close quarters. She may have a better chance at slashing a knife through Kishtung's throat than elsewhere. And after she missed her chance at the Rebel lair, her fingers twitch, longing to feel that blood spilling all over the place, at last.
Blood.
Twi'lek blood.
That sticky, crimson, copper substance. A drop, a puddle; nothing will be enough to compensate the torture Eline has gone through.
"We don't need to fight over the fact that she needs medical attention," Kishtung snarls. "And she needs it fast. I made sure she'll get it, because she's nearby. I took her here."
The hums of the conveyor belts stop, and Eva stares at the floor, her feet trembling with a burning mix of fear and anger. You… took her here? Where is she?!
The scream bubbles up before she can stop it, until she slams a trembling hand over her mouth.
"She IS here," Kishtung continues. "My men make sure she's alive, until her time runs out. She'll be released, but only when I have the Artefact, off-world."
Eva's hands squeeze the Artefact in her lap until her knuckles go paler than snow.
The hums of the conveyor belts stop as the lights vanish into a black hole, leaving Eva in darkness. Her chest tightens with bubbling panic.
"You're lucky, considering I still have some patience left in me," Kishtung snarls. "So here's the deal. Hand over the Artefact, and Eline walks away in one piece."
Eline… Or the Artefact. A violent shudder racks through her body as she clasps her forehead with a trembling sigh. Eline or the Artefact. Her mind starts breaking at the uncertainty. The Artefact is too important. If she loses it to the Rebels, the war might tip in the enemy's favor. She can't let that happen. She can't let the Empire down. But Eline…
The last time Eva saw her, she could barely breathe. Her lungs were barely holding up as they were about to cave in. Eline, fragile and barely gasping, and then, alone and fading.
From the dark before Eva, a hot ray of light leaks through the walls, burning a hole in the floor, smoking, as the ground starts shivering. Eva's eyes dart to the wall across from her. Pieces of concrete crash on the floor as it crumbles, shattering in a thousand bits as, through the holes, a bright star shines in the void.
Peyton's voice faintly echoes from her wristlink. "Wait, Eva, your sister's here?"
Eva's pupils grow as she spots a slab of stone orbiting the star burning through the walls. A small cube hovers above, its sides blackening by the surrounding flames. The rays of light burn through her retina.
Roslin's voice crackles. "Can we believe her?"
"Maybe we should?" Peyton responds. Her voice stutters with hums of static. "What difference can that stone make in the war, really?"
The star flickers, dying and fading. Faint whispers erupt from all the corners of her mind as Eva curls up on the floor, the tears splashing on the floor as her eyes burn with agony.
"I don't want to find that out," Roslin urges.
"Should we give up her sister for a little, Rebel victory?" Peyton argues, her voice tense. "What will it do against a hundred Destroyers?"
The flickering star lets out a last whisper, a sign of life, until it releases one, final burst of light. The walls fall like paper, the ceiling is ripped off as the sky above her turns fiery crimson. The blood of Eline splatters over the clouds as buildings around her are ripped from their foundations. The heat soars through her uniform, burning her skin as a mushroom cloud rises into the dark sky like a new-born star, looming over the burning graveyard with thundering rage.
This plan - recovering the Artefact and hoping Kishtung doesn't kill her while she flees - has now become a fight against time since both outcomes hit her heart like a burning knife. If she hands over the Artefact, Vaulent 6 may be finished. The City. Its people - not just Imperial, but Vaulutian people. The Alliance has always been in a tight corner, but this slab of stone gives them the finishing tool they need to turn the tide into their favour. No more are they a resistance group, but a galactic superpower.
She might see Eline again, but for how long will she have her in her arms? Until the Artefact is exploited one, final time? Until Vaulent 6 and the Empire fall in the flames of the demons?
But if she follows the plan - getting this thing out of here - the price will be as large as seeing the world erupt in flames.
As the tears stream down her chin, Eva clasps her forehead, feeling dizzy as the floor seems to drop. If she loses Eline, the world can erupt in flames regardless. What will everything else matter to her if her sister is no longer there?
The sparkling, blue eyes on her pretty face. Her long, blond hair waving the soft breeze, while her smile remains unwavering, even in the face of adversaries.
If Eva follows the plan she came up with, the only time she'll see Eline's pretty face is in a white body bag on a trolley - the same where her parents lied in. The deep silence that swallowed her whole in the coroner's room still echoes through her mind.
Her heart falls apart at the two options that lay before her, and Eva can't choose. Whatever she'll do, she'll lose either way.
A faint ray of light coming from the sun pierces through the smoke as the mushroom cloud rises higher and higher. For a moment, the sky turns blue again, and then, Eva realises it.
It is this or that, nothing else. But has life ever been like that, having to choose between two absolutes? Can't she pick the middle ground? Can't she punch a hole in the wall and make her own path? War is never fought by the rules, nor does it follow any given options.
Her hands clench into tight fists. The walls of the baggage direction bay rise from the floor, its pieces flying back and restoring as it once was, before the Artefact and its star destroyed the city. And then, she's back. The cold breeze rushes over her skin as the conveyor belts continue to hum. The lights above her buzz like insects.
Like calmth amidst the storm, Roslin's voice crackles faintly from her wristlink. "Eva, you read me? You still there?"
Eva slowly shifts her wristlink to her chin as her eyes become steady, gazing at her feet with determination. "I read you."
A sigh of relief erupts from the other end. "What do you think? It's about your sister, in the end."
Eva's jaws clench with fury. "We've got two options. We pick none. We don't have to play by the rules."
"What do you propose?" Roslin's voice turns soft.
"Y'all find Eline," Eva whispers. "If she's close, we can find her. I'll need to buy myself some time here in the meantime."
Her heart pounds with anxiety, knowing that buying her squad time to find Eline is a hard task.
"Understood. I'm coming down for you, Eva. Hang on tight," and Roslin's voice vanishes.
Eva drops her head against the console desk, letting out a faint, shivering sigh. So, change of plans: no longer is securing the Artefact a top priority. She has to buy time, keeping Kishtung busy with searching for her, while her squad comes to pull Eline out of the arms of the Rebels.
Eva closes her eyes. A void pulls over her and the sounds around her - the humming lights, the faint footsteps - vanish into the pounds of her pumping blood. Her mind goes black as she focuses on the steady rhythm of her heart. Eva may be facing a strong opponent, but she has the mind. If she uses her swift movements and her intelligence, she might have a crucial advantage over Kishtung. Though she knows she can't be sure of it, it is worth the try.
And perhaps it is the only thing she can try that won't get her killed in an instant…
More and more Rebels keep flooding the site, hammering the remaining Imperial forces with relentless fire. Peyton, Daxan, and Ashara rush outside, giving the security forces a helping hand as they face Rebel insurgents invading the spaceport.
Peyton crashes with her back into a concrete barrier, keeping her head low as the blasterfire screech over her, hitting a Capital Police officer who couldn't take cover in time. His body drops lifelessly on the ground as the colour in his eyes vanish in an instant. Gasping, Peyton squeezes the grips of her blaster until a fiery, aching sensation spreads over her arms like flames. Clenching her jaws until her teeth hurt with pain, Peyton flips her hands. The ruptured blisters on her bright red skin pulsate with each little twitch of her fingers, sending waves of pain through her burning nerves, as if her skin is tearing a part.
She can still see it happening all over again. When Peyton stood on the upper floor, staring at the firebomb, twisting and turning in the sky, she could not react when it hurled straight back at her. And before she could twitch, the firebomb burst and swallowed her in flames. When she burned, it felt horrible. Everywhere across her body where her uniform was the thinnest, her skin tore itself apart. The nerves in her legs became numb, until Ashara saved her with a nearby fire extinguisher, flooding her in a cold blanket of mist. The burn wounds that have remained ache with agony, having spread over hands and arms like a burning flower of bright red swelling.
Peyton gasps sharply as her fingers curl inward, but even the slightest movement sends electrifying shocks of agony lancing through her nerves. "Dank Ferrik, I can't even hold my blaster." She glances at Ashara firing her blaster next to her. The screeches pound in her ears. "Hey, Ashara, you've got a med-aid?"
Ashara drops to the ground, dodging the blaster fire shrieking over her. She gives Peyton a nod as she swings her backpack onto the ground, taking a small, metallic box out and sliding it over the tarmac. "Treat yourself."
"Thanks." Peyton slides the medpack towards her. Opening the lid, there lie two wraps of bacta-patches and a pair of med-spikes. Frantically, she takes out the patches and wraps them around her hands, one by one. They press against her aching blisters, piercing her skin with cold bacta like ice.
Grasping the med-spike tightly in one hand, Peyton aims for the veins just below her wrist. Thoughts flicker through her mind. She's never had to experience the feeling of having a med-spike smash into her skin. They say it's a warm, almost entrancing feeling, a fleeting moment of pleasure; the best feeling a wounded soldier can ever have, aside from getting back to base and a warm shower. Would it really feel like that? After all, it has one, huge needle. And it has go straight into her veins. Her heart pounds with anticipation, unable to wait for the supposed moment of pleasure, though she is uncertain as well, unsure about the truth. There's only one way to find out.
Slowly, Peyton grips the med-spike tightly and smashes it into her veins. A shock of warmth hits her nerves, spreading through her arm like molten gold. Peyton gasps as her muscles pull together as if electricity runs through her nerves. Her eyes feel like they're about to pop out of her skull, until all of her limbs go loose. Her muscles slack and the world tilts sideways as it hits her. The med-spike tumbles from her grasp, clattering against the tarmac, as her mind floats in a haze of weightless euphoria.
It… feels… so good!
She takes the other one, and again, her veins overflood with mesmerising heat as if she's kneeling before a gentle fireplace. The med-spike rolls out of her fingers as Peyton's body slumps and everything goes quiet. The screeching blasterfire fades into a dull, monotone hum, and the nearby grumbling of Rebel, armoured vehicles echo faintly through the sky. The flashing blasterfire hurling over her blur together like swirling stars and twisting galaxies, as if everything has become a distant dream.
Peyton's lips curl into a smile and she breaks into a light chuckle of pleasure, as if the battle no longer exists. The broken, burning blisters feel like they've already healed.
The feeling of that warmth cascading over her skin, through her veins, like the hot water of a night shower after a day of hard work - it's too good. And Peyton already longs for more. It's just too pleasuring.
Her head lolls to the side with a smile. "Ashara, you've got some more?"
Ashara's glassy, yellow eyes snap to her as she retracts her blaster, the tip of its barrel smouldering as the black ash particles seem to stick to her blue skin. "What? You used all of them?"
Peyton nods with a smile, lying on the ground as if it's the most cozy bed she's ever felt. "I couldn't bear the blisters on my hands," and she giggles uncontrollably, unable to hold them back as she gasps for air. "Can't feel 'em anymore."
Ashara smirks, but the concern flickers through her eyes, shaking her head dismissively. "You shouldn't get too many of them. They can get you high."
"Oh, you don't say…" Peyton chuckles.
Ashara tilts her head with pressed lips. "Oh joy, you're already in the stars, are you?"
"Might gonna stay here for a little while," Peyton smirks, "drawing stars and swirling galaxies."
With a sigh, Ashara pulls onto her shoulder, shaking Peyton vehemently. "Wake up, you're second-in command, remember? We're tasked with finding Eva's sister while she's fighting that Twi'lek down the pits."
Ashara shuffles around and crashes with her back against the concrete barrier, keeping her head low. Her head snaps to Daxan. "Keep us covered."
He gives her a nod. "Will do," and he raises from his cover and opens fire.
Ashara shuffles closer to Peyton. "Okay, so we know that Eline is somewhere nearby, but we don't know where exactly."
Swallowing heavily, Peyton grips the tarmac and pushes herself straight up, resting her back against the cold, concrete barrier. The pleasurable warmth of the med-spike still overfloods her veins like electricity.
"You read me, Peyt?" Ashara asks.
Peyton nods. "Yeah, I do."
"So, obviously, Eline is very important to Kishtung," Ashara continues.
"She's her leverage," Peyton adds.
"Yeah," Ashara nods. "So, if she's that important, she must be protected and somewhere safe, far from all the battles but still close enough to use her, to trick Eva into handing over the Artefact."
A stray blasterbolt hits the concrete barrier. Peyton shudders as the sparks fly into her face. "Eline must be held hostage in some secured place. And… Since this whole attack is a flash operation, she must be held in some mobile confinement."
Ashara raises her eyebrows. "A tank, maybe? How are we ever gonna find it? It could literally be anywhere, and until we've found it, it's maybe already too late."
Peyton's gaze drifts away. Maybe Ecklund can still help them? She isn't sure, though. The last time she heard of her, she got her head smashed into the windscreen of a speeder. Perhaps she shouldn't bother her with a new task, but maybe they have no other choice. Only Ecklund can spot a prick of hair swirling in the sky with ten city blocks in between. If they ever want to find Eline in a quick manner, Ecklund may be their only chance.
With a bit of hesitation, Peyton leans towards Ashara. "What about Ecklund? I know she's wounded, but she's our best shot at finding as little as a trace of Eline."
Ashara presses her lips, her gaze drifting away, uncertain of Peyton's approach, until she moves her wristlink to her chin. "Ecklund, you read me?"
The comm channel remains silent, however. All that comes out of Ashara's wristlink is a monotone hum.
Peyton's gaze flickers to Ashara as she feels a pulled string in her chest tensing up. Hopefully, Ecklund is still awake to hear their cry for help.
And then, life on the channel. "I read you." Ecklund's frail voice echoes from Ashara's wristlink.
Peyton lets out a sigh of relief. She is still awake, fortunately.
"How are your wounds?" Ashara asks.
Ecklund lets out a shivering sigh, trembling with pain. "I'm holding."
"Can you do something for us?"
"What?"
"Can you get to a higher point and look for an armoured vehicle that's within the radius of… I don't know… two clicks?"
While the distant blasterfire echoes through the sky, Ecklund peers up the sidewall of the terminal building. She can still feel the wounds on her face burning like acid as the ladder that goes all the way up, locked behind a steel cage, twists and turns like a tornado the higher it goes up.
Ecklund drops her head with a sigh as her arm rests on her lap. A light whiff of air blows into the alley, crashing into her face and her wounds. They prickle like a thousand, burning needles with its metal tips melting away inside her skin. The alley spins sideways, turning her world upside down as Ecklund clasps her face, almost unable to bear the pain.
But… There's a life at risk. She's heard it echoing all over the comm channel: Kishtung's dark, faint voice. Though she's never met Eline, she knows how important her sister is for Eva. And without Eva, there's no squad.
Grasping her sniper rifle and poking it in the ground, Ecklund forces herself up. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Staggering, Ecklund makes it to the ladder going all the way to the heavens. It is secured by a cage of steel bars and an electronic lock. Ecklund puts the barrel of her rifle against it and shoots the lock out of the door, and puts her feet on the first step.
Well… Here goes nothing.
Ecklund starts climbing to the top. Step by step, meter by meter. The wind crashes into her as the foul stench of smoke prickles in her nose, forcing her to the edge of sneezing herself off the ladder.
And then, a stray bolt hits the ladder. Sparks fly off and Ecklund shrieks. She drops as her hands slam against the steps, until she finally manages to grasp the bars.
Gasping, Ecklund holds onto the ladder as her hands burn with agony. Her eyes flicker with panic, but luckily, none of her hands have been hit. She gazes down.
"Wheezers," she gasps.
Had it been an accurate hit, that stray blasterbolt could've killed her…
With a pounding heart, Ecklund continues, and at last, she reaches the top. Climbing over the edge, Ecklund lets out a shivering sigh. Okay, back to work.
Ecklund rushes to the edge of the roof. The steel sheets rattle below her feet as she drops to her knees and lies on her chest. With her sniper rifle balancing on the edge, she sees the battle zone burning below her; flames spitting out of blackened wreckages, light poles littering the avenue, glimpses of Rebel insurgents jumping and sprinting from obstacle to obstacle.
The Rebels are putting up quite the fight. Have they actually been this fierce before? She can't remember.
Ecklund moves her wristlink to her chin. "Any specific details I should look for?"
"You're looking for an armoured vehicle," Ashara's voice crackles. "Out of sight… Away from all the fighting, but still close enough to walk to."
Ecklund hums. She can make work with that - hopefully.
Peering through the scope, the world far beyond her is suddenly before her feet. She scans the roads and the buildings surrounding Capital Stargate. However, the smoke clouds some of her vision. Buildings seem to merge into each other, and police cruisers suddenly seem as grey as concrete. They're black and white, as usual.
Bang!
Ecklund shudders to sparks flying into her face. She rushes her scope to whoever shot her, and there, hiding behind the broken windshield of a speeder, she spots a Rebel soldier aiming at her. The crosshair lands on his face, and Ecklund fires.
A shot right in his face. In an instant, his head is gone - probably vaporised. It happens sometimes at close distance. That sucks. For him.
She lets out a faint smirk as Ecklund continues searching. Her crosshair jumps from building to building, roof to roof, road to road, garage to-, wait. There. In the reflection of a mirror someone dumped on the street, leaning against a steel mailbox. Ecklund grips her scope and zooms in. And just right there!
A smile forms on her face. "Gotcha."
In the reflection, Ecklund spots a blaster - by the looks of it, an A280, standard Rebel weapon. The person holding it walks out of view, and the reflection disappears from the mirror. That reflection seems to come from within a repair shop. Scanning its walls, they seem weathered with slimy moss covering the crevices. Old and abandoned; a good hiding spot.
And it's a repair shop, which should have enough space for an armoured vehicle to hide from Imperial eyes. Though she doesn't see any vehicle inside through the reflection, there's a chance that it's there. And if it's there, so might Eline.
Ecklund rushes for her wristlink. "I think I found something. North of Stargate. Vacant repair shop. Slimy, green moss on the outside. Watch out, though. Rebels are inside."
"Thanks, Ecklund," Ashara's voice lifts. "Great job."
"I'll cover you," and Ecklund shifts her scope to the battlezone below her. She peers at Peyton, Ashara, and Daxan, taking cover behind some concrete barriers next to a blackened security checkpoint. She makes eye contact with Ashara, and they both nod at each other.
Ecklund scans the path out of Capital Stargate, spotting a direct pathway leading away from the battlezone. Along its path, Ecklund notices the little vermin hurrying around, pushing up as they hammer against Imperial security forces. Time to clean up.
With a barrage of fire from the skies, Ecklund takes down any Rebel in her sight, shooting off limbs and heads, their bodies crashing into the ground. Their lives fade away like smoke twisting in the air as she sees the three hurrying through the debris and wreckages, until they disappear from her sight.
A blaster bolts screeches past her, launching hot sparks into her face. Ecklund yanks back, retreating into safety. The Rebels seem to have noticed her, but for now, that's no longer important. Peyton, Ashara, and Daxan are on their way to save Eline, while Eva and Roslin buy them some time.
Ecklund drops her head onto her arms. Her hand rushes to her necklace. Her fingers brush its shining insignia as she holds it closer to her face and presses her lips against the cold metal, giving it a kiss.
Mother. Father. I hope Eline's okay. She doesn't deserve to be part of this foul game.
She squeezes it in her hand, gazing out into the sky. The little, flickering dots in the dark blue void make the battlefield seem distant.
Until a brighter spot in the sky catches her attention. She grasps her sniper rifle and presses her eye to the scope. Hold up.
Her pupils grow. That isn't just a star. It's even coming closer as its strobe lights flash, coming in for landing…
That same spot in the light catches Peyton's eyes, too, as she sprints through the alleys of buildings, leading away from the heat zone. Behind her, she hears the pounding blastershots slowly fading away as they emerge onto a desolate road. Peyton's eyes dart around. There is absolutely nothing on this road, not even a little insect crawling through the crevices of the pavement.
"It's… quiet here," Peyton remarks, her footsteps slowly winding down.
Daxan runs alongside her, his blaster rattling against his belt. "They must've locked down this part of the city."
"Police department? Then what the hell are they waiting for?" Peyton's eyebrows rise. "Stargate's about to collapse into ash."
Daxan shrugs and remains silent with uncertainty.
Her thoughts wander off as her heart pounds against her ribs violently. Capital Stargate is crumbling while their biggest enemy is turning it into a meat grinder. Instead of securing the site and putting up a counter attack, the Police Department is keeping itself busy with locking down the surroundings. Why haven't they attacked yet? Why aren't they helping their own people while Rebel monsters are devouring them?
Peyton can come up with only one explanation. Perhaps they don't know how big the situation is? That would probably mean that comms are being jammed by the Rebels.
But, wait… how are they able to communicate? She heard Ecklund loud and clear over their own comm channel. Or was she hallucinating her voice? Peyton wouldn't be surprised; those med-spikes got her high in the clouds, but she's certain that her memories aren't lying. Ecklund was audible. So their own comm channel is operating while that of Capital Police isn't.
The CPD uses its own private communication system. If that's down, separate police units are unable to communicate. Peyton curses under her breath, her nerves burning hotter. Shit. If it's all down, do they even know what the hell's going on here?
The Rebels came in more than prepared…
Peyton shakes her head vehemently. She can't dwell on those things right now. What matters is Eline. She can't let Eva's sister down. As the three run further, Peyton frantically searches for the building that Ecklund described: Vacant repair shop with slimy, green moss on the walls.
And there, as they round a corner, the three stop in their tracks. Peyton bumps into Ashara's shoulder as her feet skid over the pavement. At the end of a dead-end street, carved between vacant retailers, her eyes land on a dilapidated repair shop. Slimy moss cover the outer, brick walls like fungi. The faded sign on the roof is barely readable. That's the location Ecklund pinpointed.
Peyton bumps her back into the wall as the three hide from any Rebel eyes. The dead-end street is right next to her shoulder as Peyton's eyes linger to the mossy crevices of the pavement.
"What's our plan?" Ashara gasps across from her.
Peyton swallows. She shuffles to the corner and peeks around the edge, scanning the site. The street leading up to that building is narrow with little cover. No container or obstacle to hide behind. The repair shop itself has four, big windows. The broken glass shimmer in the faint sunlight, and the front door is open.
"What'd you think?" Daxan asks with a slight tremor in his voice.
Peyton squeaks with her lips. "I'm not sure. There ain't enough cover," she moves back, glancing at Daxan and Ashara. "It's too risky. They've got big ass windows and the door's open. They could hear us. And we haven't scouted the area first. We don't know if Eline's in there for sure."
Ashara drops her head, wandering around. "Ana'tari seka. We have to come up with a plan, though."
"We can take the roof." Daxan swivels with his feet.
Peyton shakes her head. "I don't want to ruin this plan if the roof squeaks."
"What if we just try?" Ashara asks.
"Going head first? Nah. We don't know whatever the hell they have lying there. If they have some crazy repeating blaster, we're dead."
Ashara's eyes drift to the ground, letting out a sigh.
Peyton presses her lips as she tries to come up with a different plan. They have to scout before anything else. If they don't, they may fall into some nasty surprises. Peyton doesn't want to let that happen.
"Peyt." Ashara shuffles closer to her. "What if we… send him first?"
Daxan scoffs with a smile. "Sorry?"
Ashara chuckles. "Nah, I'm joking," but her smile quickly vanishes with anxiety replacing it. "Best strategy so far…"
Peyton's smile disappears as she nods faintly.
"Only if we could look through walls," Ashara murmurs. "That would've made this a lot easier."
Only if we could look through walls.
A spark bursts in Peyton's head. Some time ago, after she returned to base from hunting Kishtung through the woods, she developed a heat signature sensor for her datapad. She tested it out on Ecklund as she stood behind the door of her barracks. Like a bucket of shining gold in a dark forest, Ecklund's body burned through the screen of her datapad. Her eyes light up with an idea.
Quickly, Peyton drops her backpack and zips it open, rummaging through its content. Ashara shuffles closer, her shadow looming over Peyton.
"What are you doing?" she asks.
Peyton's fingers brush past a sleek tablet. She grasps it firmly and lifts it from her backpack. "Remember when we chased Kishtung through Malmstrom Forest? After we came back, I figured making a heat signature sensor for my datapad would help to catch some bogeyman out of the dense woods. I tested it out on Ecklund and I could see her signature straight through a steel door. If we're a bit lucky, we can see those Rebel bogeys straight through the walls - and Eline."
With surprise, Ashara opens her mouth but all that comes out are warbled words of perplexity, until she shakes her head. "That's… that's astral," she stammers.
Peyton gazes up with a smile. "I know, right?"
With the datapad squeezed in her hands, Peyton peeks around the corner and points the sensor at the building. Staring at the monotone-blue colours on her screen, she waits for the sensor to pick something up. And then, like spilled drops of bright paint on a canvas, multiple signatures appear on her screen. Her heart leaps. It's working - so far.
A couple of tal spots of heat are visible on her screen. Some seem to be wandering around while others seem to sit. They're probably the Rebels. Peyton scans back and forth, her pulse quickening. But as she scans from one corner to the other, she can't find any heat signature that may be that of Eline. She should appear as a smaller figure on her screen, but so far, she hasn't seen her. Cold fear grips her chest.
What if she isn't here? The thought races through her mind. What if Eline is somewhere totally else and these Rebels are just guarding some fall back point when their colleagues have to retreat? If that's true, they'd be far from home.
Then, a movement. The signature of a person suddenly rises, seemingly standing up from a chair. The blob of heat moves around something, and then, it appears; a dim, almost imperceptible outline, a silhouette crouched in the air, curled up in an armoured vehicle. Her heart jumps with excitement. There she is, that's Eline!
However, her weak heat signature doesn't seem to be promising anything good. Eline seems to radiate much less warmth than all the others. While the Rebels burn bright, Eline is barely a flicker. While the Rebels are like blobs of smouldering lava on her screen, Eline is just a drop of water on a cold plate. Peyton's throat tightens. That's not normal. Eline seems too cold. Too still. Shit… Is she-? No, she's moving, but barely. Something is very wrong.
Eline seems to have her head dropped and her hands on her knees, curled up in a corner. The larger silhouette of a Rebel guard looks at her and snatches Eline's chin. Her thin arms twitch a little, before the Rebel lets go of Eline viciously.
Peyton lowers her datapad. Eline needs them, now!
"She's in there," Peyton murmurs, and she moves back to her cover. "And… She's not well."
Ashara gasps with relief. "At least we found her. What are we going to do?"
Peyton ponders. Going in like a police unit busting down the door of a money laundering probably won't work in their favour. Once they start raiding it, all the Rebels have to do is holding Eline at gunpoint. They'd have to surrender their weapons. Simply going in won't work.
Perhaps they just have to do it fast? If they rush in, they probably won't have enough time to even respond accordingly. Within no-time, they'd have Eline freed. But it's a plan that entirely relies on speed, which isn't the most reliable considering they don't know what else the Rebels got.
That won't work.
"I've got an idea," Daxan murmurs.
Peyton and Ashara glance at him, intrigued.
"So, considering they hold Eline in an armoured vehicle, what if we lure it out?" Daxan continues. "I've got my arrowhead parked nearby. Once you've lured it out, I can outmaneuver it, get on top of it, and free Eline."
Peyton slowly nods. That… may work? She tries imagining it. So, Ashara and I would have to get in, do a little bit of shooting - I don't know - and then draw them out, vehicle and all. Make them think we're gonna snitch their position to the Army Air Force to bomb the shit out of them, or something. So we draw them out, Daxan swoops in, hits fast, gets onto the vehicle as if it's a Gundark, and get Eline out before they can respond.
Still a risky plan, but it might work better than simply rushing in. Daxan's plan might be their best shot at this.
Ashara tilts her head with uncertainty flashing in her eyes "You sure? That sounds like a risky plan."
Peyton nods. "True. But we do have the element of surprise. This might be our best shot at this."
Ashara glances at her, pressing her lips. The concern flickers in the corners of her eyes, seemingly uncertain of whether this approach is safe for everyone. But regardless, if they do nothing, Eline will never see light ever again.
At last, Ashara nods and her hands drift to the blaster hanging from her waist. "Okay. Let's do it, then."
They rush into position. Clenching her blaster, Peyton waits for Daxan to pick up his speederbike, until his voice echoes through her wristlink. He's ready.
Peyton looks over at Ashara. The sweat on her forehead shimmer in the faint sunlight as her yellow eyes seem frantic. They make eye contact and give each other a nod.
Peyton takes one big gasp, cooling her burning lungs. She leaps from her cover and rushes into the street, dashing towards the repair shop with Ashara tailing her, silently. As they near the repair shop, Ashara splits off, hugging the wall of another building, ready to give her cover fire while Peyton continues.
Clenching her blaster, Peyton swiftly makes it to the door that's been left slightly open. Peeking inside, she sees a tank enshrouded in the dark. Its countless, steel wheels shimmer a little in the faint sunlight that pierces through the darkness. Peyton spots the quadruple barreled turret sitting on top of a monotone repulsor chassis with sharp angles. It bears no insignia, but scanning the frame, Peyton raises her eyebrows. That's a T2-B, is it not?
She's seen some of them in war footage the Imperial military rarely releases. While lightly armed, they can be a real threat to infantry as its deflector shields can deflect the majority of small blaster fire. Peyton curses silently under her breath. Dank Ferrik. Hope the plan works.
Then, Peyton spots a silhouette flashing before her eyes; a Rebel who hasn't seen her yet, wandering aimlessly around, probably bored. Peyton snickers. They'll get some excitement in an instant.
As her heart pounds in her chest, Peyton raises her blaster and fires, unleashing lightning inside. Screams erupt. Panic bursts as Peyton squeezes the trigger until her fingers become numb.
And then, a blasterbolt shrieks past her, hitting the door and erupting in sparks. Peyton dashes back as she hears the beast of an engine rumbling, coming to life. They're coming.
With a thundering heart, Peyton sprints away from the repair shop as Ashara opens fire, shooting through the open door. Her lungs ache as Peyton runs past Ashara's shoulder.
And then, as if an entire building is crumbling, a crash erupts from behind her. Glancing frantically over her shoulder, Peyton sees the garage door flying out of the wall as the front of the repair shop crumbles into dust. From the cloud of debris, a steel monster on wheels races out of the building, launching pieces of concrete onto the street. Its engine growls like a beast longing for blood as black smoke rushes out of its exhaust pipes.
Peyton lifts her wristlink. "Daxan, they're coming!"
Ashara starts sprinting too, catching up with Peyton. They emerge back onto the road as Peyton stops in her tracks, her feet skidding over the tarmac, and spins around her heel.
Dark smoke is spewing into the air as the Rebel crawler wiggles itself free from the debris. Concrete bits explode under its wheels as a hatch on top of it opens with a bang and a Rebel gunner rises from the roof. His hands race to a repeating blaster rotating around his hatch, his fierce eyes behind his dark visor landing on her as her gaze meets him. The Rebel flame burns furiously in his dark pupils as his repeating blaster makes a metallic click and its barrel swivels to point at her face. They're getting ready to kill. Dank Ferrik.
And then, its barrel lights up. Peyton leaps to cover and dodges a thundering blast shrieking past her feet. Peyton hits the pavement with her knees as Ashara forces her back up and they continue to run as she can feel the tremors in the ground.
Gasping frantically, Ashara glances around. "Where the hell is that bozo?"
"I don't know!" Peyton gasps. "We have to buy him time."
The growls of the crawler's engine grow louder behind her as Peyton runs towards an alley. Like thunder, the Rebel tank rolls onto the road, its engine growling furiously as Peyton rushes to take Ashara's hand and pulls her into the alley.
A shot of the crawler misses Ashara barely as the girl stumbles onto the ground. Peyton helps her up as a parked speeder explodes and bursts into flames. The ground shivers in fear as the heat radiates through her uniform.
Squeezing her blaster, Peyton peeks around the corner. Instantly, sparks fly into her face as a blaster shot scrapes the corner, flashing before her eyes. Peyton shrieks, stumbling away from the edge.
"Dank Ferrik, that tank got us pinned," Peyton shouts, her voice trembling.
Ashara presses herself against the wall, gasping for air. "Where is that guy?"
Peyton shakes her head, uncertain. If Daxan is letting them wait, this plan is doomed to fail. Her nerves ignite as her hands start trembling. What is taking him so long? Any second they wait longer and that tank will decimate them!
Another shot blasts through the wall, barely missing her shoulder. A part of the wall crumbles down as Peyton rushes further back, glancing frantically through the cracked hole. And there, on the road, she sees the Rebel tank slowly pushing up. Too slow.
What is the tank waiting for?
Peyton's gaze drifts away, until her eyes land on a road sign just outside the alley. Dead-end. Shit. They know. They know that they don't have a way out. In panic, she pulled Ashara into a dead-end with no way of escape. Peyton frantically looks around, but notices she's surrounded by high, windowless walls of a fortress, impossible to climb. Going anywhere near the direction of the tank and they'll be shot in pieces.
They can't buy time for Daxan if they're dead. And if they're dead, so is Eline.
The growls of the engine slowly fades away, sucked into a black hole. Peyton curses under her breath. "Dank Ferrik."
Come on. This rescue has to happen now. Daxan, where are you?!
The battle below rages on. Distant shouts of security officers echo through the sky, screaming for support. The pounds of blaster fire blends into a monotone roar in her ears as Ecklund gazes at the dark blue sky. Her face throbs with a deep, pulsing agony. Each gasp seems to pull at the wounds etched across her face. Drops of blood roll down and over her lips, drenching her tongue with a foul, copper-like taste.
Though the pain tries to drag her into unconsciousness by her feet, Ecklund can't help but stare with focused eyes at the sky. There, a bright star is approaching, twinkling as it's coming down.
Raising her sniper rifle, Ecklund presses her eye onto the scope. The crosshair lands on the bleak nose of a descending Lambda shuttle. Her eyebrows rise with surprise. A Lambda? What's that doing here?
Hasn't the airspace already been closed? Considering the absolute hell down here, Air Traffic Control should've already stopped all traffic to Capital Spaceport, and possibly rerouted incoming craft to other spaceports. What's this Lambda doing here?
Something isn't quite right.
The strobe lights flicker in the dark-blue sky as the shuttle slowly approaches, its engines roaring like a vicious eagle coming to strike. The shuttle deploys its landing gear as its landing lights turn on and nearly blinds her, shining like searchlights onto the city down below.
It's truly coming to land here.
The side of the Lambda's central fin slowly comes into sight, and as Ecklund's crosshair lands on its insignia, her heart sinks in her chest. The Imperial crest, boldly embedded in the shuttle's wing, with below, the designation number of the Imperial Center. That's Imperial High Command.
Ecklund drops her sniper rifle with surprise. What's High Command doing here?
Some senior officer is coming to town. Great misfortune, however. The town's center is burning like hell. Why is High Command seeking to land here? Do they even know about the chaos down here?
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ecklund knows the Rebels have sabotaged all communication networks belonging to the Navy and the Army. Else, that shuttle would not be coming to land as if all is clear.
The Lambda is coming even closer. With igniting nerves, Ecklund scrambles up. What are they still doing here?
Now, the shuttle is as clear as day, its sharp shadow sweeping over the nearby buildings like an angel. Ecklund starts waving at the shuttle, hoping for its pilots to spot her and get out of here. Come on. See me. Get out of here!
And then, lightning strikes.
The strike of a Rebel tank screeches through the sky. The blaster bolt hits the Lambda shuttle with a thunderous roar. Ecklund gasps, shuddering as the trembling sky lights up. The shuttle lurches violently as its engines roar furiously amidst the flames. The backside is swallowed in fire as the shuttle tilts hard to the left, descending into a chaotic freefall.
Ecklund stumbles backwards, her stomach twisting. No. No, no, no!
The nose drops from the sky, cutting a dark streak across the twilight. A screech fills the air as it races down towards her, coming in hot. Ecklund stumbles away, getting out of its path as burning debris rains down like lava. Scorched metal strikes the roof, shivering the steel tiles, as Ecklund watches helplessly as the shuttle's wing skims the terminal building and slams into one of the circular hangar bays behind it. Ecklund gasps in terror as the shuttle's fiery carcass crashes into the hangar walls and comes to a grinding halt in a shower of sparks.
And then, a deep, metallic groan as the steel eagle moans in pain.
For a moment, the burns on her wounds no longer exist. A highly ranked senior officer of High Command… He just crashed down with a thundering fireball. Ecklund curses under her shivering breath. Blast it.
She exhales sharply. There's no time to waste. Someone important just went down and there is no one to help. Eva and Roslin are toying with the Twi'lek. Peyton, Ashara, and Daxan are rescuing Eline, and the on-site security forces are trying to stop the Rebels from advancing further.
It all comes down onto her. Just her. And Ecklund can't stand by and do nothing.
Ecklund hoists her sniper rifle onto her back and sprints towards the hangar, her feet pounding on the steel roof. Ecklund jumps down the roof onto another, nearing the crash site as smoke swirls into the dark sky as the fiery red sun skims the horizon. She climbs down the ladder, the metal steps rattling below her feet. Landing on the hard tarmac, Ecklund reaches the bottom floor of the hangar bay.
The stench of burning jet fuel prickles in her nose like acid, and Ecklund races to the wreckage. The back of the shuttle is completely consumed by fire as its nose and the wings are crooked. The vertical fin has completely been torn apart, its pieces lying everywhere across the floor.
Hard landing.
They must've survived, right?
Then, the ramp below the cockpit sinks, screeching as its hydraulics hiss. Ecklund's heart leaps for a moment, spotting footsteps rushing down the ramp as she approaches. Two Deathtroopers run out of the shuttle. They spot her and draw their blasters instantly.
Ecklund's feet skid over the floor until they stop.
"Hold right there!" screams one of them. His voxscrambler turns their words into the dark growls of a demon. "Do not come closer."
Ecklund raises her hands, her heart throbbing in her throat. "I'm-, I'm friendly," she stammers.
"Identify yourself," growls one. The twinkling flames draw their long shadows over the floor.
Ecklund swallows as her hands tremble. She can't convince them by just stating she's friendly. She'll have to give them her name. Not Ecklund. Her real name.
Then, a liberating voice echoes from the shuttle. "Stand down, troopers."
The Deathtroopers lower their blasters with a demonic grunt and step aside as a man on a hoverchair is carried down the ramp by a female aide. Another man with a bald head follows him. His tight uniform bears the insignia of IDMR. Ecklund lowers her hands as she recognises the man in the hoverchair. It's Veers, General of the Army. Surprise hits her like a concrete wall. Veers? What's he doing here?
"General," she stammers.
The female aide pushes his hoverchair towards her as a faint, warm smile forms on Veers' face. "Long time no see, Ecklund."
The aide's face, on the other hand… The panic is etched all over her. Her lips tremble faintly as Ecklund can sense the fear that's about to explode inside of her.
Ecklund steps towards her. "Are you okay, sir?"
Veers smirks. "It is just a scratch, my lady."
Ecklund smiles, but it hardly stays on her face as the concern electrifies her nerves. They are still in the middle of a warzone. "Sir, you really should not be here. Rebels are nearby. We should get you out of here before they push up."
Veers recoils, his face turning pale instantly. "Rebels? We don't know anything about Rebels being here."
They… They don't know? Comms really took a hit, then.
Then, a blaster shot shrieks past her from the corner of her eye and hits an officer in the head. His body crumples to the ground as Ecklund jolts around, her burning nerves igniting. There, she spots dark silhouettes rushing through the terminal, punching out windows.
"Contact!" barks the Deathtrooper commander. "Get down. Take cover!"
Ecklund draws her blaster and aims at the Rebels pushing through as the aide rushes Veers to a section of the shuttle's fractured wing, taking cover. Ecklund follows as her sniper rifle kicks into her shoulder, crouching low as she dashes to take cover behind the debris. Ecklund crashes with her back into the collapsed wing as a volley of fire rains down on them. Sparks fly around in a storm as Ecklund's lungs burn with agony.
Suddenly, a thought hits her. These Rebels seem to throw everything they have at this spaceport. They came in well-prepared; eliminating all security checkpoints, killing off all comms, pushing through with armoured vehicles… They wouldn't deplenish all of their resources to give Kishtung and the Artefact a free passage through the terminals, would they? That seems like wasting resources with a high risk of losing a lot. From a tactical point of view, the Rebels would achieve the same by infiltrating the site and stealing a shuttle from under the Empire's nose. Yet, they don't. Instead, the Rebels fight as if they believe that today, the Empire will fall.
Their only reason for attacking Capital Stargate enmasse would be if they knew Veers was coming, Ecklund figures. The General is a member of Imperial High Command and oversees all military operations regarding the Army. Eliminating General Veers would strike a serious punch and throw the command of the Army into disarray.
Did they know that Veers was coming to Vaulent 6?
Suddenly, this Rebel attack seems to be way more tactical. This battle is not just about getting the Artefact safely off-world. It's about breaking the skull of the Empire.
Ecklund curses under her breath. She'll have to bring Veers to safety. Those Rebels can't get anywhere close to him.
"They're trying to box us in," the bald IDMR officer mutters, glancing over the debris at the advancing Rebels. His blaster pistol is drawn as he drops himself to the ground. "We have to move."
The Deathtrooper kneels to the ground, his visor tilted towards the edge of the hangar. "Speeder bus over there. Sixty meters west."
Ecklund follows his gaze, and there, inside a garage, a speeder bus stands parked, used to transport passengers elsewhere. It seems damaged; the window is cracked as debris of the shuttle is scattered around it - but it is likely operational and their best chance of escape.
Veers nods vehemently. "Get that vehicle here," he orders. Still strapped into his hoverchair, he remains eerily calm.
"Yes sir," the commander barks, and turns to his remaining trooper. "Stay put and hold them off!"
A curt nod, then the trooper repositions and unleashes hellfire from the smouldering barrel of his blaster rifle. Ecklund follows and opens fire at the Rebels as they are forced to take cover, while the commander rushes to the speeder bus.
Ecklund retreats as the screeching blasterfire rains over her. As her heart pounds against her ribs, Ecklund's eyes draw to the female aide next to her. With her back against the crumpled wing, the woman is clasping her forehead as the tears splash on her lap, forming dark spots on her tight uniform, wrinkled at the ends. One hand is tightly clenched into a fist. The aide releases her head and drops her hands onto her lap. Her eyes are swollen and watery, reflecting the flames erupting from the crashed shuttle, dancing around the edges of her pupils.
The aide reminds her of her own secretary. Before her life crashed down, the secretary of her father commonly walked upon the floors of the company headquarters. Sometimes, when time allowed her, Velmara always kept Ecklund company, ensuring she had something to do while at father's work. Lending her a pencil to draw the skyline at the 85th floor, a datapad to watch videos on the HoloNet, or playing along with a doll. That was perhaps four to five years ago.
A heavy feeling settles on her stomach as Ecklund's hand crawls to the aide's sweaty, bare arm and holds her tightly. They make eye contact.
"You'll be OK," Ecklund cries.
With the panic shimmering in her eyes, the aide faintly shakes her head. Slowly, her eyes drift to her hands where she opens one fist and reveals a golden ring, shimmering on her palm like a beacon of hope.
"But," the aide stammers, her voice frail. "I'm not a soldier. I'm just an aide."
The helplessness in her voice strikes her nerves as Ecklund gazes at the speeder bus on the other side of the hangar. A faint silhouette breaks the window open and steps into the cabin.
"Don't be worried," Ecklund cries, swallowing heavily. "You'll be out of here in no time. When the bus is here, get Veers in quickly and stay there."
With a tear rounding her chin, the aide gazes at her and nods, silently, gasping for air.
Ecklund gives her a nod too. She clenches the grips of her blaster and raises from her cover. The crosshair lands on a Rebel soldier running to a pallet of crates. She fires and the insurgent is thrown onto the ground, his helmet rolling over the tarmac, but she spots more. A lot more.
Ecklund retreats and glances at the speeder bus. Its headlights flicker. Good. It's coming.
"Trooper, cover our backs when it's here!" Veers barks.
"Yes sir," Ecklund cries.
"Not you, Ecklund," Veers cries, shaking his head. "You're coming with me, immediately."
Ecklund's eyes dart to him, her lips tightly pressed. "Why?"
"Remember your past, Ecklund," Veers cries, his face hardening like steel. "We'd have a hard time replacing you."
Ecklund lets out a sigh and nods, faintly, accepting her orders. Deep within, she knows Veers has a point; from the Empire's perspective, she is indispensable, which she knows is an extreme rarity in today's military. While she knows it can save her, it still hits her stomach wrong, pushing the fact that she's special through her throat; special for the Empire's top.
As the speeder bus growls behind her, its repulsor engines whirring faintly, Ecklund rises from her cover and opens fire. She sees the bald IDMR man and General Veers vanishing from her sight with the aide.
Before her, the Rebels form an unbreakable line, advancing further with each heartbeat like ants. Ecklund squeezes the trigger as the tip of her sniper rifle starts to melt, smouldering and smoking. The stock pounds into her shoulder as each shot rings in her ears until everything morphs into a monotone hum. Echoes of screaming voices vanish into hisses and growls, until a firm hand lands on her shoulder and pulls her back.
Ecklund jolts around, shuddering as her narrow eyes meet the frantic gaze of the aide. Her face is paler than snow, but behind her dark pupils, Ecklund spots an unwavering shimmer of concern.
"Honey, it's time to go!" she cries, pulling onto Ecklund's shoulder like a concerned mother. "Come on!"
With aching hands, Ecklund gazes at the lone Deathtrooper unleashing hellfire towards the Rebel invaders. The soldier seems to feel her gaze as he glances briefly over his shoulder.
"Get going, kid!" he barks like a furious demon. "I'll cover you."
Ecklund swallows heavily, uncertain. But… but… what about you?
The aide drags her towards the bus and Ecklund spins around. The speeder bus is just inches away as Ecklund runs towards it, her footsteps pounding on the tarmac, until a blastershot shrieks past her.
The aide screams with agony as she stumbles onto her knees and crashes on the ground. Ecklund's heart stops as her feet skid over the tarmac and leaps towards the wounded aide, dropping to her knees beside her.
"Don't worry, I'll get you out of here," Ecklund cries.
She races to the aide's hand, about to drag her the last inches towards the bus, until the woman squeezes Ecklund's hand and raises her head. "Honey," she gasps, her voice frail and fleeting.
Ecklund leans closer to her as the woman lets out a final, breathless gasp. "I don't want to die."
Her hand slips away. Her blue eyes die, turning grey. Her lips freeze.
With shaking gasps, Ecklund stares at the aide's face, unresponsive and without a shimmer of light inside of her pupils. Her stomach churns as she opens her hand. There, she finds the aide's ring, pale and weathered.
It shouldn't have been her. It shouldn't have been her.
It shouldn't have been her!
Why did it have to be her? The aide… She did nothing! She wasn't even armed. It should've been her. It should've been Ecklund. It shouldn't have been her!
The sharp voice of Veers crashes into her face. "Ecklund!"
She jolts around and her eyes land on Veers inside the speeder bus. Its repulsor engines start whirring, powering up. The concern is etched across the General's face, urging her to come. Ecklund gazes back at the aide's face. She can't leave her behind. She doesn't deserve to lie hanging here.
But before she can make a move to get the aide's body to safety, the speeder bus suddenly takes off, accelerating away.
"No, don't leave me!" Ecklund mutters.
With burning nerves, Ecklund launches from her feet and runs towards the speeder bus driving away. Blaster shots shriek past her, erupting into sparks. Ecklund gets to the open door and jumps inside, her chest crashing into the hard floor, her feet dangling out the bus. With a pounding heart, Ecklund gets up and stumbles away, her back crashing into a seat as the bus steers hard right. Gasping, Ecklund's eyes fall on the aide's body, still left behind on the desolate hangar floor, until she vanishes behind walls of the terminal building. The screeching blasterfire fade away, and they drive out of Capital Stargate, the dark smoke twisting into the black sky.
They shouldn't have left her behind. She didn't deserve all of this!
Ecklund's eyes meet the sharp gaze of General Veers. His lips are pressed tightly into a thin line, his fists clenched. "You should have listened to me, Ecklund."
Ecklund clenches her jaws. But perhaps, had she listened, dropped her duty and fled, the aide wouldn't have died. Perhaps. But still, she deserves more respect. Blasted hell.
"Do not be worried, Ecklund. I am happy that you are alive." Veers lets out a steady sigh. "You are far more important than the aide. She knew the risks when she signed up."
She knew the risks when she signed up? Pffft… Luxurious words for saying she's expendable.
Ecklund bites her lips, trying to keep everything within her. She gazes away with sharp eyes as her cheeks shiver with pressure.
The aide was far more than just an aide. She was a person with warmth, care, and concern for the safety of someone else. She was a mother. She had a ring. She had a husband. Even if she died, she wasn't expendable! The aide was worth as much as Ecklund's own life, no matter how special the Empire sees her as.
Slowly, Ecklund brushes the thick, crimson blood off her fingers. The wounds in her face start burning with agony, the pain crashing back with full force. But no longer is it her physical pain. It's guilt. Survivor's guilt.
That lady… just… didn't deserve it. Soldiers do. But she?
Ecklund lets out a faint, shivering sigh, her eyes turning watery as a tear rolls over her cheek.
She didn't deserve it.