A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while since I tried writing a series as long as I'm planning this series to be so I hope you guys stick around and can put up with any ups and downs we may have on this ride. I recently binge watched The Clone Wars and Rebels and got sucked right back into the Star Wars rabbit hole. I absolutely love Ahsoka and Sabine and I couldn't wait for next year for the live action series to come out so I decided to shake the dust off my keyboard and try writing fanfics again. If you enjoy the chapter please review and let me know your thoughts, that always fires me up to write more when I'm stuck with writer's block. We start outside of our dynamic duo's POV but I promise future chapters will be chock full of their thoughts.
Star Wars Rebels: The Boy From Lothal
Chapter One
The Boy From Nuthar
By RocketTortoise
"In some way, suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds meaning, such as the meaning of sacrifice."
- Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning
Run.
The puddles left from the falling rain splashes under his feet as he runs. Vurokk M'Tall trips over something but he has no time to see what it is. He manages to catch himself with one hand and keep his footing, but he knows he can't stop. He can't slow down. He knows they are coming.
Vurokk risks a glance back down the alleyway behind him. His vision is blurry from the rain pouring down on top of him, but he can't see anyone back there. But if there is one thing that Vurokk has learnt after so many years living in the streets, it's that you can never trust that you are alone. There can always be someone watching you, whether that be a thug in the shadows or a street rat in the crowd. There are eyes and ears everywhere.
Vurokk pauses at the end of alleyway just long enough to check around the corner before rushing across the street, keeping his head down in an attempt to keep his face hidden from distant observers. Scaling a fence on the other side of the street, Varokk drops down into another alleyway, his feet landing in another puddle but thankfully the roar of the rain is loud enough that any noise he makes is lost like a drop in the ocean.
Slowing to catch his breath, Varokk peers through the fence, back the way he came. The street is all but empty, only a few meandering pedestrians breathing any sort of life into the empty scene. Varokk backs away from the fence, his breathing sharp and shallow. He doesn't like being on the ground, he feels like vermin in a cage. He turns his gaze up towards the rooftops. Get high, learn your surroundings, and find them before they find you.
Vurokk was born and raised on the streets, but these were not his streets. He comes from a system far, far away. His homeworld, Nuthar, shares some similarities with this planet in the way the slums seem to stretch as far as the eye can see, and the way the people tend to eye you up like you're fresh meat when they think you aren't looking. But while this planet is simple in its city design, with wide, empty streets and primarily two- or three-story buildings, Nuthar was a chaotic, practically incoherent mish mash of architecture. You would guess that someone had just squashed the buildings together and left them to sit where they may, even if it made no logistical sense.
Traversing on the ground was difficult to say the least, with the densely populated streets that winded between the packed buildings. It was far easier to get from place to place if you knew how to move across the rooftops, knew where you could find a paths that could take you from one end of the city to the other. Varokk felt at home high above the ground, and if he wanted to escape from his pursuers, he needed to be in his element.
Varokk begins climbing the wall of the alleyway. He can already see the path to the rooftops, his years of experience climbing illuminates the way like it is being transmitted directly into his head. The rain makes the surfaces slippery, but Varokk knows he has no time to waste, his pursuers can be anywhere, the longer he spends unaware of what is going on around him, the more danger he is in.
It is not long before Varokk reaches the roof. The moment his hands feel the stone corner of the building, he nimbly pushes his torso and abdomen above the roof line and hooks his leg onto the ridge. Something gnaws at Varokk as he finishes his climb. Something he felt like he has to remember but sitting just out of reach. But his instinct to locate his pursuers overrides everything and he pushes that gnawing feeling to the back of his mind.
After pulling himself up onto the rooftop, Varokk drags himself up to the edge of the roof and peers down onto the city below. For the first time tonight, Varokk is thankful for the constant downpour since it makes it much more difficult for anyone below to spot him up here and while the rain did obscure his vision somewhat, Varokk is not unused to spying from up high through rain and is able to put together a decently coherent picture of the city structure. The city centre is built around one main road that runs the length of the city, far into the horizon even from Varokk's vantage point. There are a few smaller roads like the one Varokk had crossed before climbing onto the roof which are far less populated than the main road, which seemed to serve as the city marketplace as well as the main transportation hub. The rest of the city is built upon narrow alleys and pathways which Varokk would be able to leap across when he needed to move.
However, Varokk is not able to see either of his two pursuers. He had heard the rumours; two outsiders from the so-called "Civilised Space" searching for Varokk's boss. Both had distinctive looks, looks that were unmistakable and unlike anything you would find within any of the systems within the Chiss-controlled territories.
But Varokk hadn't taken the rumours particularly seriously. Rumours surrounding Varokk's boss were a dime a dozen and usually you could only find a grain of truth at their core. On top of that, outsiders were extremely rare and the only outsiders who ever find themselves in these parts are unlucky stragglers who can only blame misfortune for their one-way trip into what they call the Unknown Regions. The idea that two outsiders reached Chiss-controlled space on purpose is unprecedented. And so Varokk had given the rumour no mind.
But Varokk could not have been more wrong, he had silently cursed himself a thousand times by now. One look at them in the cantina and he had known his error. They were unmistakable, completely fitting the descriptions he had heard from the drunk smugglers in the bar. And they looked straight at him, like predators eying up prey. To survive on the streets, Varokk had to learn how to size up people at a glance, to know who you could steal from and who you would wise to stay clear of. Every instinct in his body told him to run, and so he did.
Something still gnaws at Varokk as he slowly rises to his feet. Something that had slipped his mind in the panic. And now that he had failed to locate the outsiders, that gnawing feeling is only growing stronger and stronger.
Something catches the corner of his eye, and he turns to look. There is something in the distance, barely visible through the rain. It is in that moment that Varokk realises what was gnawing at him. One detail he had heard through the rumours that he had tossed aside as insanity. But like the rest of the rumour, Varokk curses himself again for being so stupid.
One of the outsiders can fly.
Varokk turns and sprints towards the other side of the rooftop, trying to keep low to blend in with the dark stone below him. He slides behind some sort of machinery feeding into the building and curls into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible. From the distance the outsider was approaching from and with the veil of rain between them, it is very possible the outsider had not seen him upon the rooftop. Varokk just needs a moment where he can slip away. Varokk lifts his parka and gently grips the blaster tucked in his belt.
Or fight, if necessary.
Varokk's inhales sharply as the outsider flies above him, passing by. Trying to move quickly but quietly, Varokk slips back around onto the other side of the machine unit.
The outsider lands on a rooftop a couple of buildings across and looks around. Varokk grits his teeth. Did it see me?
From this distance he can see the outsider's armour. It somewhat looks like the armour he had seen worn by soldiers on Csilla while working for his boss but in the dim light emanating from the city streets below, Varokk can see what looks like markings and colours on the outsider's armour. From what he knew of the Chiss, none would ever dare to make any sort of marking on their armour. He knew punishment awaited those who vandalised armour gifted to them by the Ascendancy.
The outsider turns their back to Varokk and for moment, he can see what looks like a metallic carrying pack on the outsider's back. But Varokk knows it can't be anything as trivial as a backpack, he had seen flames coming out of it moments ago. It was likely the key to the outsider's flight.
Varokk's eyes glance down to the blaster on his hip. Maybe he could take the outsider out here? Leaves him with only one outsider left to deal with, and he would feel far more confident with those odds. At the very least, he could disable the outsider's flight pack and give Varokk the advantage moving on these rooftops. But Varokk dismisses that idea. The outsider is two buildings away and Varokk is no soldier. More than likely, all he would accomplish would be giving away his location and judging by the outsider's military armour and the two blasters strapped to their hips, Varokk would not like the result of a firefight between the two of them.
Thankfully, Varokk's decision is made for him. The outsider approaches the edge of the rooftop, gazing down to the streets below. The outsider leaps off the edge and after a moment of freefall, the flight pack activates and the outsider flies off, disappearing behind a distant building. Varokk finally exhales after what had felt like an eternity. The outsider was out of sight but more importantly, he was out of their sight.
Varokk rises to one knee. The rooftops were not safe with the outsider flying around. As much as he does not like the idea, he knows he has to head back to ground and hide within the city.
Varokk drops down the three-story building into the alleyway below, slipping from foothold to foothold until his feet met the wet ground once more.
He notices movement to his right and he turns. An endless sea of people walk by, the light from the main street creeping into the dark alley like an inviting hand promising salvation. Varokk approaches the light, weighing his options. It is not a bad idea to slip into the crowd, use them as cover to hide from the flying outsider. It would be much harder for them to spot him within the crowd then as a lone figure in the alleys.
But as he reached the end of the alleyway a cold voice in the back of his head reached out to him. Don't turn around. A cold chill went down Varokk's spine. In one moment, he went from a fully grown adult to feeling like a child. For the first time in so many years, he felt scared of the dark.
Part of him dismissed the fear as paranoia but he needed to turn and make sure. There is no way that there could be something—
Varokk's heart freezes in his chest. At the far end of the alleyway, silhouetted by the street light behind them, is the second outsider. They are wearing a dark, hooded robe over their head but Varokk could not mistake the large horn-like features that distorts the shape of their hood. And while Varokk is surely going crazy from the fear that has swallowed him, but he could swear that he can see the outsider's eyes glowing in the dark. And they are looking straight at him.
Like a rat fleeing from a predator, Varokk turns and sprints for the main street. He dives into the mass of people and lets them swallow him whole.
Inside, Varokk pushes people aside, trying to slip through the crowd without overtly running and giving himself away from the outsider, who was surely scanning the crowd looking for him. So many faces flash by, different species from human to the native Butan. Varokk scans all their faces, terrified that one of them would be the outsider's.
But Varokk suddenly stops and clenches his fists. He needs to calm down and think clearly. This is not the first time he had been chased through the streets by people he could not fight. He has no chance if he panics and makes mistakes. He needs to be smart now and use all of his experience from living on the streets of Nuthar to help him.
Varokk slips through the crowd towards the marketplace. He grabs a parka from a stall, one that is different in colour to the one he is already wearing. Without stopping, he slips out of his parka and replaces it with the stolen one. He grabs a dark-coloured scarf from a different stall and wraps it around his face. The temperature is cold on this planet, even without the rain so there are a lot of people out wrapped in heavy clothing and scarves.
Varokk then slips behind a large Butan man bulldozing through the crowd. The males of the Butan species are known for their large size and the spikes protruding from their wide shoulders so people in the crowd naturally make way for them as they pass by. By following behind the Butan, Varokk could move relatively quickly through the dense crowd without having to push and shove and risk drawing attention.
Rattling through his brain, Varokk tries to figure out what his plan should be. The base is not too far from here. It's a small residential space that Varokk's people use as a gathering point for informants to pass on information to Varokk or whoever is assigned to this planet to subsequently pass on to the boss himself. He would have allies there that could protect him but knowing that the two outsiders were after the boss, Varokk was hesitant to lead them to more who could give them information that could lead them to the boss.
Varokk grits his teeth, maybe he should just escape offworld? The transport that brought him here isn't supposed to return to take him back to Csilla for another three rotations so Varokk would have to find another way off the planet.
Varokk slowly glances around the crowd, trying not to be too conspicuous, when he spots the outsider. Varokk's jaw nearly drops. The outsider is just standing there, perched brazenly on the balcony of one of the residential buildings along the main street. Not caring for the eyes they are drawing, they just stand there with one hand on their hip, their head slowly sweeping across the crowd. With the light from the streetlights, Varokk can see their face, their orange skin with white markings on their face. A fresh chill goes down his spine as their head stops and a smile grows on their face, an arrogant smirk that shatters any sense of pride he had left.
Because they are staring straight at him.
Varokk runs, the need for secrecy gone. He pushes past the Butan in front of him and receives a shove in return that nearly drops him to the ground. The only thing keeping him standing is that he is pushed into the rest of the crowd that gives him a chance to regather his feet.
How could they tell it was him? Even with his effort to disguise himself and blend into the crowd, it is like the outsider could just see through him into the very deepest reaches of his soul.
The crowd was no longer an ally, it only slowed him down. Not able to think clearly and moving purely on instinct, he opens a door and slips inside a building.
Entering the building and affording himself only a moment to look around, the building could not have been worse for an escape plan. There were no windows that he could slip out of and the room was full of shelves of scrap metal that were of no help to him.
Varokk glances back to the door he just came through, rattling against the wall from the wind and rain. His hand reaches for his blaster, resolving himself for a fight until he hears a door open to his left. Swinging his blaster in that direction, his eyes widen when he realises that instead of the outsiders, he is pointing a blaster at a Butan female. Varokk lowers his blaster and the Butan begins yelling what Varokk can only assume are Butan obscenities.
Through the door, Varokk can see a set of stairs leading up to higher floors. Without a moment's hesitation, Varokk pushes past the obscenity laden Butan and through the doorway.
The building is a lot taller than Varokk had assumed. The staircase he stands at the bottom of appears to go up four or five floors. Climbing up to the next floor, Varokk realises that the upper floors were much the same as the ground floor – windowless with no escape points. But staring straight up, he can see at the very top a hatch presumably leading up to the roof. Perhaps if he can get onto the roof, he can leap down onto another building and escape through the alleyways. Varokk sighs. It's not a great plan but there's no going back so to the roof it is.
As Varokk reaches the third floor, he can hear the door opening from the ground floor. He peers down and can see the hooded outsider walking up the stairs, taking their time like they were on a stroll. Varokk grits his teeth and keeps pushing up the stairs.
As he opens the hatch onto the roof, the wind catches it and slams it open with a crash, startling Varokk to whatever was left of his wit's end. He scrambles onto the roof, his wet clothing feeling like weights dragging him down.
Varokk races to the edge and his heart sinks. Looking around, he realises that all the surrounding buildings are either too far away to jump or too low to drop without injury.
As his brain scrambles over what to do, he hears a roar coming from behind him. Spinning in that direction, he pulls out his blaster as the armoured outsider lands onto the rooftop. Dropping into a roll on landing, Varokk finds himself staring down two blaster barrels as the outsider somehow draws their weapons during the roll. Varokk's hands begin to shake as the weight of the situation begins to sink in. This is life or death.
In the corner of his eye, Varokk can see the hooded outsider climb through the hatch. Varokk swings the blaster towards them, and they slowly raise their hands.
The hooded outsider opens their mouth and says something but he does not understand them. Perhaps seeing the lack of understanding in his eyes, the outsider turns to their compatriot and says something to them. The two talk back and forth but Varokk only understands one word.
Thrawn.
Varokk's grip tightens on his blaster, causing it to shake slightly. The hooded outsider turns back towards Varokk and takes a step towards him, emphasizing her raised hands as she does so. As she takes her step forward, Varokk retreats one step back, flinching as he feels the edge of the rooftop behind him. The hooded outsider freezes as they realise his proximity to the edge and says something again, a little more urgency in their voice this time.
Varokk's eyes shift to the armoured outsider. Their weapons are still pointed straight at Varokk's skull. He begins to hyperventilate. There is no way he survives a firefight. The moment he fires, the armoured one will fire as well and all he could do is pray they miss. If he turned his weapon towards them, they might fire as well. But if he were able to take one of them out, maybe it will dissuade the other from searching for the boss.
Although Varokk would be dead.
Varokk glances behind him. He is on the side of the building opposite the main street. The street behind him is not nearly as wide as the main street but Varokk does not think he could make it without a running start. And a fall from this height would likely kill him.
He turns back towards the two outsiders and notices that the hooded outsider had taken another step towards him in the moment he wasn't looking.
"Don't move!" he yells. They probably didn't understand his words, but he knows for sure they understood his tone, as the hooded outsider takes a half step back, their arms still raised.
Varokk's hands begin to shake even harder. He is out of options. He either fires or gives in. Death or surrender. The choice is obvious.
Varokk lowers his blaster and tucks it back into his belt. The hooded outsider's face relaxes and they lowers their hands. The armoured outsider keeps their weapons trained on Varokk in case he changes his mind. Varokk's sighs and takes a few steps towards the outsiders. Varokk's eyes drop. This is it.
Varokk turns and runs towards the edge. He expects a blast to the back but the hooded outsider yells something and the shot never comes. He reaches the edge and he leaps. Varokk's arms are outstretched as the adjacent building creeps ever closer. But he knew almost from the moment he jumped one soul-crushing truth.
He wasn't going to make it.
Varokk begins to scream as he plummets to his death, his life flashing before his eyes. Fear is overwhelming him but before he reaches terminal velocity, something tugs at him. And then he stops. It is like he has fallen onto the back of an animal. Something was holding him up and holding him back. Varokk turns back towards the building he had leapt from and he can see the outsiders. The hooded outsider has their arm reached out towards him, their fingers curled tightly and their face straining from exertion.
And before he knew it, Varokk can feel himself being pulled back towards them. His mind is spinning, going from plummeting to his death to being saved by this black magic beyond his wildest imagination. But in a moment a realization sunk in. They had saved his life, but they were going to make him give up the boss.
Varokk's stomach churns. He cannot betray the boss. It is thanks to the boss that he didn't die a street rat, rotting in some back-alley gutter and being chewed on by all sorts of vermin. It was the boss who gave him a role in his grand plan, who gave him a life where he could travel the stars and make something of himself.
Varokk's life has always been Thrawn's, and Varokk would happily give that life back to him.
Varokk pulls out his blaster and aims it towards the outsiders. The armoured outsider notices straight away and begins to react but it is too late.
In what Varokk would consider the greatest shot of his life, Varokk squeezes the trigger and fires. The blaster bolt flies true towards the hooded outsider. The armoured outsider only has time to push the hooded outsider out of the way and take the blaster bolt to the shoulder. But the shot serves its purpose.
Varokk can feel the grip on him give way and he drops headfirst towards the ground. Looking down, he can see the stone street rushing up to meet him. Varokk closes his eyes and hits.
