Chapter Text
- CHAPTER ONE
The constant smell of bacta was grating on his nerves. It had been days of injections, debridement, patches, and tinctures.
“You would heal a lot faster if you got some sleep Cal.” Easier said than done. Every time he closed his eyes the ominous mechanical breathing of Lord Vader would echo in his mind, the weight of his presence haunting him even while in hyperspace safe aboard the Mantis. Cere sighed at his silence and resumed checking the wound for any infection before securing another bacta patch onto his chest wound. A worried whirr escaped the droid sitting beside him on the bed, little legs stuck out off the edge of the thin mattress.
“Greez says we will be exiting hyperspace momentarily. Brace yourselves.” Merrin had popped her head into Cals quarters, her eyes dropping from his face to his wound, brows furrowing for a nanosecond with what he hoped was worry, rather than disappointment. She had fished the two Jedi from the water on Nur just as he’d lost consciousness. He didn’t want to make a habit of her having to save him.
Cere stood, collecting the medical kit and soiled bandages before excusing herself to the cockpit for arrival, disposing of the contaminants and taking her usual seat at comms. Cal stood, a small groan escaping his chest with the effort, as he gently swatted away Merrin who had begun to reach out to assist him, “I got it, I got it…” The Nightsister raised her hands lazily and shrugged, turning heel to move back to the kitchen.
Gently Cal rotated his left shoulder, feeling the strain on his ribs and chest, just below his left pectoral. He had more movement, but it still ached, and by Force, the edges of the lightsaber burn itched to high heaven. His hand, littered with small scars from a combination of training, fighting, and idiotic climbing, reached for his shirt and pulled it carefully over his head, making sure not to rip off the fresh bacta patch in the process. Suddenly the Mantis shifted, pushing Cal against the bulkhead behind his bed with the pressure of them dropping out of hyperspace. The young, and newly knighted Jedi stood again, BD-1 clambering upon his shoulders. The Jedi made his way through the luxury craft to the cockpit, feeling Merrin’s eyes on him, he did his best to move in way that didn’t favor his injuries. Arriving at his co-pilot chair, Cal gazed at the sight before him. A nebula swirling in the distance, and before them a space station, nestled into the side of an asteroid, protected by, you guessed it, other asteroids.
“This might get a little dicey,” Greez muttered more to himself than Cal, holding back the urge to swat at the droid as he hopped from Cals shoulder to the consol, tiptoeing too close for comfort to some very important controls.
“This is Gagrew station?” it didn’t look like much, but hey, it was out of empire space which was more safety than he could ask for right about now.
“Yeah, smuggler port mostly, but they’ll have the supplies we need. We aren’t too deep into Hutt space, so there could still be imps crawling around. Just gotta keep our heads down long enough to fuel up and refill our stores.” The Latero began checking his systems, plotting a route between the moving field of rock.
As they made their approach Cal noticed a few other ships moving along the asteroid belt, some on approach to the station, others leaving, most ships looked worse for wear, very few appeared to be luxury liners like the Mantis. They might not have the best luck blending in. “I’ll go suit up,” Cal began,
“Not so fast, you’re staying on the ship with Merrin. I’ll replenish our supplies while Greez secures fuel.” Cere spoke with an iron will, her eyes cutting into Cal as he was half stood from his chair.
“I can’t stay cooped up in here any longer, I need to move my body.”
“Have you considered stretching? There’s enough space here, I could take you through some movements,” Merrin had appeared in the doorframe, silent as a spectre.
“No – I – That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Cal snapped, running a hand through his hair, “I just can’t be closed in like this for so long. I need some fresh air – don’t say it,” he cut off Cere just before she could argue that the station wouldn’t have any fresh air, just the same recycled crap that any ship had.
The Jedi Knight could tell she wasn’t going to get anywhere with his stubbornness, so as they began docking, she offered a resigned sigh. “Take my list and Merrin with you. No exploring, keep your head down, get in, get out.” With that she turned to the Nightsister, “any trouble, you get him back here, got it?” Merrin cocked her head to the side, appearing unsure with the sudden orders given, or perhaps it was the tone she hesitated at.
“If I have to render him unconscious to do so, I will.”
“Hey!” Cal cut in, glaring between the two women who had momentarily shared a smirk, while angry binary trilled from his metallic friend at the threat.
“What? You got your way in the end.” Merrin chortled, turning back to the main lounge to gather her belongings. Cal rolled his eyes and followed suit, noticing the Nightsister sheath several blades into the hidden spots in her boots, sleeves, and hips. He knew Merrin primarily used magick, but it was good to know if it came down to it, she’d be a scrappy one. The sound of docking clamps echoed along the hull as he re-entered the engine room he’d claimed at the rear of the ship. Strapping on his tattered synthleather riggers vest, he sighed down at the burned hole in the chest. He’d need a new one, perhaps he’d see something on the station at a decent price – it’s not like they were rolling in credits.
Cal made neat work of buckling his utility belt, clipping his dual ended ‘saber to his left hip before staring at his collection of ponchos, many worse for wear, and a number in need of a good soak in some very soapy water. Pulling out a muted blue-black poncho with a hood, he donned the garb, along with his gloves to protect him from any unwanted surprise echo contact. Leaning down to scoop up BD-1, Cal double checked his store of stims before lifting the droid to his shoulder.
“Ready to go?” Cal jumped at the unexpected intrusion. It was hard to sneak up on a Jedi, and yet Merrin seemed to have turned the practice into an expertise.
“Please, please don’t do that,” He sighed, trying to calm his racing pulse.
“Do what? Hurry up.” She didn’t wait for his explanation to her question before turning heel towards the entrance of the ship, causing Cal to jog after her.
“Sneak up! You just materialize behind me and one of these days it might end with an accidental stabbing if I’m feeling particularly jumpy.” He winced at the movement in his ribs as he reached her side and kept pace.
“I thought your senses were strong enough to sense my arrival, I guess not” It was hard to read if this was a true jab at his skills, or Merrin trying to joke around with him. Force, give me patience, because if you give me strength…
The Jedi decided not to quip back, instead pulling his hood up over his flaming locks. Merrin followed suit, covering her ashen white hair, and shadowing her Dathomirian markings. “Cere give you the list?” the Nightsister nodded, lifting a small, and slightly rusted holoprojector which displayed several items in flickering desaturated light. The trill binary of his companion droid whistled next to his ear as BD-1 shifted on Cals shoulder to get a look at Ceres list. The droid quickly flashed a display before the pair of the surrounding area of the docks and neighboring sectors within the asteroid station. “Thanks, Beedee!” Cal chirped, making a mental note of any yellow flagged doors, or vents that the hologram had provided. He reached up and affectionately rubbed the little droid behind the antennae as the holo turned off.
The pair made their way into the depths of the station, keeping to the edges of walkways, tucked into shadows, and overall trying to blend in with the sparse crowd. They passed through a number of chambers, over walkways and past loud machinery that reminded him of the inner workings of a dilapidated venator from his time scrapping with the Guild on Bracca.
Finally, the sound of inhabitants outweighed the constant rumble of the active station. A market loomed in the open space, spanning outwards and upwards with a maze of suspended walkways linking shops and cantinas, while on the base level a tent city sprawled before them. Bounty hunters wearing clan insignias such as the black sun wandered by, looking at wares, or looking for people, one could only guess. They were all armored and geared for any kind of threat.
Cal ducked his head as one passed, BD ducking behind the width of his shoulders. Merrin led the way towards a lift, squeezing in with just enough room for Cal among the other vagrants. He wasn’t shy of tight spaces but wasn’t a fan of tight spaces among people. Crowds made him feel claustrophobic more than any cave, or vent. He found himself holding his breath until the lift stopped, and a number of people pushed out from around him, giving them a bit more space. The lift traveled five more floors before Merrin lead them off and to the left. The suspended platform was precarious at best, but the Nightsister strode across the length like it was made of fresh durasteel.
Taking another glance at the holo-map, he was able to predict Merrin’s next turn. They strode into a small platform that linked to other walkways. They turned onto the right walkway which led to a suspended enclosed unit, toting a medical insignia. They’d burnt through most of their medical supplies patching up Cal after his run in with Vader – even the thought made a pit open in his stomach. A charming bell rang with their entrance, an unsettling brightness among the din of the smugglers port.
A tall – or at least taller than Cal – Duros wearing a white medical robe raised his head, the flickering lights reflecting of his blue skin. Red eyes slowly blinked, taking in the pair and the droid. “Welcome, what can I help you with?” His unsettling eyes roved over the pair, as if seeking out injuries, or perhaps running numbers on what their organs could fetch him. Shelves lined the windowless walls, lined with half empty boxes of medical supplies. Behind the counter were refrigerated units with numerous labels vials. Merrin stepped towards the alien offering the holo containing the list. The merchant took stock of the requests and hummed to himself. “I haven’t got everything, it may take time to gather and package the supplies…” once more he looked between them, “is there a ship I can send these items to?”
Cal stepped forward and offered a smile from beneath his hood, “No, thank you, we can wait here for the supplies to be ready.” Last thing he needed was for anyone to know where he specifically was parked.
“Fine, suit yourself.” The Duros waved towards a couple of dusty chairs against a wall, turning away to write down the items on the list before Merrin tucked the holo away., “chatty bunch…” he grumbled. Perhaps the alien was lonely up here?
Merrin turned and sat in the chair, a small dust plume escaping from under the sides of her legs. “So, does this port get busy? First time here,” Cal prodded, trying to start some form of conversation, forearms leaning on the counter. “I can imagine people are sick of the increasing taxes put on products in imperial space, huh?” He knew it was hurting their pockets at least – “Oh, yeah, do you take creds?” The Duros offered a little crooked smile, happy for Cals attempt it seemed.
Busying himself with filling a small transport crate with vials, and small boxes of Bacta pads and gel bottles, the Duros weighed his response. “Credits are fine, further into Hutt space you’ll run out of luck with those – and yeah, well no. It used to be busier here. Imps have been pushing further into Hutt territory, so a lot of our… usual clientele have been going to deeper stations for restock. Lots of hunters here still, and they’re always in need of medical supplies. I’d have to close if not for their constant injuries.” A small nasally laugh escaped the alien as he began ticking items off the list. Cal nodded at the information and offered a kind smile before sitting next to Merrin, pulling his hood off as he sat. The unit was windowless, so they were relatively safe from prying eyes here.
“Rest, I will keep watch.” Merrin, few of words, sat upright in her chair, on alert like a sentry. They had some time to kill, and he did need some semblance of rest if he was to be of use in an emergency should one arise.
Rather than sleep, the young man began taking calming, even breaths – not too deep as to irritate his healing ribcage, but enough to relax him into a meditative state. He felt around him for the Force, a light, warm presence all around him, and let that presence fold over him like a comforting blanket. He did his best to think about nothing, lest he dredge up old waking nightmares, instead he focused on the thrumming of the engines keeping the station asteroid in a protective orbit.
Unsure of how much time had passed when the Nightsister bumped his shoulder with her own, Cal blinked open his weary green eyes. Holding in a slight groan as he stood, Cal watched as Merrin paid with Credits, before securing four mini repulsor-lifts to each corner on the bottom of the crate. She attached the small control to her vest to act as a tether so the crate would stay close to her. “Thank you,” They both said in unison, Cal adding, “I hope business stays good for you.”
The Alien nodded, already double counting his credits, “Anytime, you know where to find me.” The pair departed, crossing the metal walkways that groaned uncomfortably with their weight. “Did Cere contact us while I was meditating?”
“Do you usually drool when you meditate?” Merrin teased, looking sidelong at him under thick lashes, a small smirk upturning her lip. “Yes, Cere informed me that Greez finished with refuel and went to gather rations, so we don’t need to make another stop, we can return to the ship.”
“I was not drooling.” He quipped, getting BD-1 to open the holo-map again. “I wonder if there is an outfitter here in synthleather…”
“Why? Craving another poncho?” There it was again, that cheeky little smirk.
“My vest has a hole.” Her smile dropped back into her usual serious mask as she recalled why.
“Very well, we shall take a look.” The pair hurried along to the lift, lowering them back to the main market. There were a few outfitters sprinkled about, none of which had what he was looking for. Finally, he decided to bite the bullet and ask someone. They managed to point him in the direction of the northern (he was assuming they’d landed on a southern landing pad- polarity was confusing when in space) end of the market. The lighting was worse in this section, and the smells more pungent. Fewer and fewer shops were to be found here, and less people.
“I think we should head back to the ship Cal…” Merrin wasn’t one to sound worried, and something in his gut was agreeing with her. They rounded a corner, only to find a trash heap. No shops. Not good. Did they take a wrong turn, or was this a purposeful misdirect?
“Are you lost?” The pair of them whirled around, Merrin’s fingertips sparking green for a moment, and Cal reaching in his poncho for his lightsaber. Before them stood a girl, pale, dressed in tattered robes. She looked younger than Cal, but it was hard to tell with the dirt smudged across her freckled cheeks. Her hair, though dingy from her environment, was ashen blonde, more pigmented than Merrin’s, but still strikingly bright. Her eyes danced somewhere between a whirling blue and slate grey. Her small frame made her look like a child at first, but her voice was more mature, accent completely neutral to the voices they’d heard within the station.
“A bit, not going to lie, but my droid friend here is pretty good at navigating us back to where we need to go.” Cal said, speaking cautiously. They were cornered like prey, but he would hardly consider this young girl a predator.
“We were just leaving.” Merrin spoke, her words clipped as she tugged on Cal’s elbow, whatever Merrin was feeling, she also didn’t appear comfortable with their current predicament.
“Very well. Good luck, I’d recommend raising your hood, you’re quite a noticeable sight with all that hair.” The girl tipped her head to the side, nodding slightly at Cal with her words before skipping away, her boots making no sound as she vanished into an alley.
Cal’s hand shot to his head, not feeling fabric covering his red locks. Dank farrik he hadn’t raised his hood after leaving the medical shop. Merrin somehow looked more pale than usual, a tinge of pink on her cheeks. Was she embarrassed for not having noticed herself? While they looked at each other, stunned at their own incompetence, they began to hear noises approaching them. Boots on ground, heading their way.
“Take the crate back to the Mantis, I’ll take BD and meet you there.”
Merrin scowled, “I need to bring you back Kestis. Stay alive, keep me updated and I will try to fetch you as well.” Angrily she began chanting under her breath, the crate now floating next to her, under her hand. Green smoke swirled around her, consuming the Nightsister and crate in darkness, before dissipating with no evidence other than dusty footprints in her wake.
“Alright Beedee. Let’s get out of here.” Cal took stock of his immediate surroundings quickly, noticing a grate to his left, which would allow him to scale a level to the raised catwalk above. Just as three bounty hunters wearing white and blue plated armour rounded the corner, he took off. Jumping for the hold, his hand took purchase, and he hauled his weight with aid of the force. Healing ribs screamed at him, and he cursed his injuries one more time as he clambered up to the second level. All three hunters followed suit, two with whipcord launchers and one with a kriffing jetpack.
Blaster fire dusted his heels as he landed on the catwalk at a sprint, taking quick directions from a panicked BD-1 clinging to his back. Heat of the oppressive assault singed the left shoulder of his poncho, as if his clothes didn’t have enough scorch marks as it is. Rounding a corner he was faced with another dead end, at least for someone who didn’t have a history of finding everything climbable. Groaning with the effort of this activity he launched himself into a force aided jump, grasping onto an edge, old burgundy paint chipping off under his fingers. He made the next jump to another vertical grate, leading up three stories to attach to another catwalk. Heaving with the effort, Cal pulled himself up, hearing jetpack take off after him with ease, but pleasantly hearing the other two having to climb along with him as their cords didn’t reach far enough. Jetpack made it up before him, brandishing his blaster at the precise spot Cal would surface. Predicting the oncoming fire, the Jedi made the executive decision that hiding who and what he was at this point was moot, so better be upfront about it and survive.
He called upon the force, launching himself onto the catwalk with a flourishing flip, lightsaber in hand. One single golden blade exploded from the extended tip of his forged weapon, kyber singing their shared song into the force around them. Blaster fire was easily blocked by his molten blade, ricocheting noisily off nearby metal and stone. He could hear the other two hunters nearing the top of the crude makeshift ladder. Cal needed to get going.
“Reflect this, Jedi scum!” The jetpack hunter seethed, exploding flame towards the redhead who was forced to jump back, the heat licking at his arms as he hissed through his teeth with sudden pain. BD-1 trilled with worry as Cal shook his hand, his glove alight. Realizing that whatever juice was in the flamethrower was sticky, he had to tear his glove off as he dodged another burst of amber fuel. Metallic groaning sounds echoed in the chamber around them as the catwalk shook and began to droop between the battling parties. He had the flaming bastard to his right, and the two other hunters getting their footing immediately to his left. Hopefully that meant jetpack wouldn’t risk his comrades with any more flames in his direction… right? Cal heard the telling sound of gas about to ignite, and immediately reacted, pushing the force towards jetpack with panicked strength, sending him careening into a stone wall he had to his back while hovering. The jetpack cracked under the pressure, disconnecting from its owner and spinning off until it hit something in the darkened distance, exploding on impact. The hunter however, no longer held aloft, plummeted the four stories they’d risen, a solid crunch sounding. That was his chance.
Cal took off at a sprint, his lungs burning from strain and his hand burning from the literal scorches he’d gotten through his glove. Just as he was about to round a corner, something thin, sharp, and metallic wrapped itself around his throat twice, not only stopping his momentum, but yanking him back with a violence that stole his breath and strangled his cry. His back slammed down on the catwalk, sending a jolt through the metal that was already holding on by molten threads. The world dropped about five feet, and he heard a cry as the catwalk collapsed. The hunter that had lassoed him must have been unlucky in his footing because suddenly the choking Jedi was being dragged backwards, and fast. He tore at the wire around his throat in desperation, not feeling the need to be hung to death by the weight of his captor, or land on his skull.
BD-1, blessed friend, was not waiting around for Cal to remember that he had a kriffing lightsaber to cut the cord with, and the little droid had the foresight to use his multitool to sever the cord as they slid towards oblivion. The pressure on his throat lessened but his momentum didn’t stop. Cal paused his attempts at ending his strangulation just in time to hook his arms on a railing that hadn’t broken off yet. Breath wheezed through his raw and constricted throat as the sound of falling debris, and bodies (he presumed) plummeted below.
He began climbing, pulling himself up on the precariously attached metal bars, finally reaching the platform that was still secured to the rocky formation of asteroid wall. Cal rolled onto his back once he could, resuming his attempts at releasing the cord from his neck. It took maneuvering, however he managed to succeed, wheezing and rubbing the raw length of his throat. He could feel the heat of blood, sticky against his skin. The cuts weren’t deep, but they stung and seeped. “S-stim Beedee,” Cal didn’t move, his body was hurting with the strain of his recovery, and this current excitement. The small droid popped a stim canister into one outstretched metal foot, lowering it to press into the side of Cal’s already abused neck. The stimulant echoed through his body immediately, lessening the aches, and dulling the sharp pangs of pain. “Thanks buddy,” the droid trilled in response, pulling open the holo map for Cal to see while he stood up, BD-1 resting once more between his shoulder blades. He was heading in the wrong direction, the broken catwalk forcing him to take yet another detour. Setting off at a jog he began weaving his way through the labyrinth of the asteroid’s upper levels, this time keeping his hood up for good measure.
“There he is!” a shout from behind as he picked up pace. More than just the three hunters were aware of his presence it seemed, though judging by the paint on their armor they were from the same gang. A cacophony of boots on metal filled the air as he pushed himself through the dull ache still threatening below the pleasant buzzing of stimulants. Sitting on a railing up ahead he saw the blonde girl from before, somehow having reached these upper levels before him. She whistled an eery tune before warning in a singsong voice, “The path ahead is gone!” With a shrill giggle and swinging ankles the girl fell backwards off the railing, disappearing into the polluted fog that dimmed the air inside the station.
He didn’t have time to react to the unsettling appearance and disappearance of the girl, was she helping him? Did she have something to do with the broken path ahead? He couldn’t understand how she was involved in what was currently unfolding. With no other options available he charged forward, rounding a corner before having to pull himself back from the edge of a very dangerous drop. He couldn’t see the bottom. On either side of him was dead air, above him, more broken pathways. Whatever had destroyed this route had taken a long and hard fall from far above, into the lower bowels of the station. The polluted din made it so he could only see flickering lights, meters and meters below and could just make out the other half of the platform separating him from the final leg of his escape to the hangar. “Merrin, I think now may be a good time for that assist?” He nervously grumbled into their comms.
The sound of muffled blaster fire, and combat came into the earpiece, hitching his anxiety in his chest. “We’re pinned down, Greez is preparing for takeoff, how far are you?”
“I’ll be there!” He shouted into the comms, suddenly his own escape felt less important than the bailing out of his found family. The boots were thunderous behind him, shaking the blasted catwalk with every heavy step. Green eyes flittered around the area looking for anything. He saw it, a wire half tangled on a sturdy looking pipe, a third of the way across the chasm. Cal reached out with the force, feeling the edges of the wire and sighing with relief that it was not actively running any electricity as he yanked it towards his outstretched hand. It wasn’t going to reach him, so as he pulled, he backed up and took a running leap. Time felt like it slowed, the wire still feet from him as he began to lose altitude. BD-1 shrieked in his ear, the hunters stopping at the edge as one unlucky bastard fell into the void with a shout. The wire met his hand at the frayed edges, and his weight came crashing down his arm as momentum yanked.
The pain that shot through his healing wound from Darth Vader was blinding. He felt the wound tear open, blood seeping into his undershirt as he cried out, trying to hold onto the ends of the wire as he swung. The bacta patch fully disconnected from his flesh, vision spotting white like little stars. Ahead, another wire. He pulled with the force and threw himself from one wire to the next –
He missed.