#unidentified blaster pistol

[sw5w]

This Vote is Very Important

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:05

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (8/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 9.012

Summary: Jamie  just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian  Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught  up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

read it below or read it here on AO3

VIII.

—

Getting to the planet’s surface was the easy part. Jane was told to wait in orbit, while they boarded Rebecca’s ship and flew down. They were all crammed into the tiny cockpit of Rebecca’s ship, where without enough seats to go around most of them had to simply hang onto whatever fixture they could find and pray. Jamie herself had been relegated the space at the very front, which in the event of a crash would’ve sent her hurtling straight through the reinforced glass windows. The Republic military feed they had cottoned onto earlier barked at them down the line, demanding their authorisation codes or threatening swift retribution. Rebecca acted quickly, keying in a sequence on her ship’s dash and sending it off with an expert flourish.

“Calm down, Sergeant,” she said in a cool tone, and her voice was run through a modulator so that it sounded low and raspy. “This is shuttle hotel charlie two five niner with the Third Fleet. I’ve been called from logistics as backup.”

A crackle of static followed, then, “Hotel charlie two five niner, you’re earlier than expected. You’re cleared for landing. Please proceed with caution. Do not engage hostiles until the rest of your squad arrives. I repeat: do not engage.”

Rebecca hit the button to respond. “Copy. Hotel charlie two five niner.”

And without further ado she began the sequence for final descent. 

“Well,” said Owen. “That was efficient.”

Rebecca did not look up from where she was guiding the ship to the surface when she replied in a distracted tone, “I’m very good at my job.” 

“Clearly,” Hannah said. 

When they got within a certain distance from the planet, Dani straightened from her place jammed into Jamie’s side and tried to peer through the glass. The mountains of Alderaan were jagged caps of blue and grey and white. A rather dramatic landscape, if Jamie were being honest; she was far more interested in the way Dani pressed up against her seemingly without meaning to do so. 

They swooped around a mountain peak, the spear-point parapets of House Thul coming into view. Below, people scurried about the ground like insects shooting pinpricks of red blaster fire at one another. The air was filled with enough smoke that it was difficult to make them out, but when Jamie squinted she could just see that the main doors had been breached and the attackers were attempting to push their way inside. 

The ship was pinged by someone on the ground, and Rebecca accepted the transmission.

“Unidentified spacecraft,” growled a voice down the comm in an Imperial accent, “state your allegiance and business immediately, or we will not hesitate to shoot you from the sky.”

This time when Rebecca replied, she did not modulate her voice through the computer, though her tone was just as calm as before. Perhaps with a bit more of a bite. Definitely with a smoother Imperial accent that would’ve fooled Jamie herself if she hadn’t known what Rebecca really sounded like. “Corporal, this is Tau Gamma Three. If you delay my landing on the eastern high ground, I will report you to my Rear Admiral for contempt.”

The corporal responded very quickly, “My apologies, Commander. Your transponder code has just been confirmed. Please proceed with all haste. I will personally greet you on the ground and act as your escort.” 

“Copy. Tau Gamma Three,” Rebecca said, then took her finger off the transmission button and whispered in her usual accent, “Fuck.” 

“Think you over cooked it that time,” Jamie said.

Rebecca gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Damn boot-licking Imps.” 

She guided the ship towards where Dani had indicated earlier, landing in a rumble and jerk before cutting the engines and unstrapping herself from the captain’s chair so she could be the first down the gangway. 

“Let me handle this,” Rebecca told them.

She smacked the button to lower the gangway to the ground, while outside three people in Imperial grey strode up the hill towards the ship. One, the corporal, had a single red tab of rank on his chest, while the other two bore plasma rifles and shiny black chest plates. Jamie, Hannah, Owen, and Dani all squeezed themselves into a corner of the cockpit so they could peer out the side of the ship and watch. 

The corporal saluted as Rebecca walked down the gangway, his mouth moving but his words unintelligible from where Jamie and the others watched. If Rebecca responded, they could not hear her. Without breaking stride, Rebecca unholstered the pistol at her waist and fired three shots. The corporal and one of the infantrymen dropped to the ground. The remaining infantryman fell, but turned over and tried to crawl towards where he had dropped his firearm. Rebecca stalked forward, stepped on his hand, and shot him in the back. 

He stopped moving. A hole through his chest cavity smoked gently. 

Turning back towards the ship, Rebecca saw them all gawking at her from the cockpit, and gestured for them to come out. 

“Where did you meet her again?” Owen asked in a slow, slightly awed voice. 

“Nar Shaddaa,” said Jamie.

“Huh.” Owen nodded. “You know, I don’t think you’re cool enough to be her friend.”

Jamie stepped on his foot and glared. 

Rebecca was re-holstering her blaster pistol when they all emerged from the ship. “I did my job,” she said, then gave a nod to Dani. “Where to next?”

Dani pointed towards a building complex about five hundred meters away. “This way.”

Jamie made a gesture for her to lead, and Dani started off in the direction she had indicated. They walked briskly, and every time Jamie heard another blast in the distance — some Imperial or guardsman of House Thul throwing firepower at one another on the ground below — she winced and quickened her step. It was nice to see she wasn’t the only one, until the five of them were rushing into the guard complex, slightly out of breath. 

When they reached the shut doors, Dani placed her hand on a panel. It scanned her biosignature and flashed green before the doors opened with a hiss of pressurised air. They ducked inside, and Jamie breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of fighting faded slightly through layers of metal. 

“The checkpoint is just around the corner over -” Dani was saying as she led them further down a set of steps, but when she rounded the corner she froze. 

Where before the entryway had been completely empty of people — signs of a great hurry evident, upended chairs and half eaten rations — now there was a single guardsman staring at them just down the hall. His face was white as a sheet, his livery of House Thul scuffed and scorched, and in his hands he clutched a blaster rifle, which he pointed at them. 

“I don’t suppose you know him?” Owen asked in a low voice to Dani, who shook her head. 

With raised hands, Jamie took a step forward and said, “We’re just here to -”

Before she could get more than a handful of syllables into a sentence however, the guard fired. Jamie flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, but the smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh never came. Instead there was only a strangely familiar buzzing sound. When she peeled open her eyes, one after the other, it was to find that Hannah had moved faster than the guard could pull the trigger. A dark scorch mark marred the floor beside her feet, and Hannah held the purple blade of her lightsabre extended at a perfect angle. 

Hannah straightened, lowering her lightsabre but not sheathing the blade. The guard staggered back a step, hands trembling around his rifle. 

He stared at them for a split second, and then fumbled for the comm unit strapped to his shoulder, pressing the transmit button. “This is Ardi in Post; I need -!” 

Hannah waved her free hand, and his own hand suddenly wrenched away from the comm, both of his arms snapping to his side as though he were coming to attention. His wide panicked gaze dropped to his own arms, and he made a weak terrified noise when he could not move. 

The comm at his shoulder crackled, and a voice said, “Come in, Ardi. What’s the problem?” 

He opened his mouth, but Hannah spoke before he could do so much as squeak. Her voice was like a riptide, like a set of strings attached to a wooden frame. “You will not panic, and you will tell them nothing is wrong.” 

The guardsman blinked at her, his eyes going fuzzy and unfocused, while his shoulders and jaw went strangely slack. Then his hand drifted up to the comm. He pushed the button and said in a flat tone, “Nothing is wrong.” 

His hand dropped back to his side and he gazed blankly at Hannah for further instruction. 

“You will go about your duty,” she said. “You did not see us.” 

“I did not see you,” he mimicked in that same tone, then he strode forward, walking directly past them and continuing on his way. They turned to watch him go. 

“Always creeps me out when you do that,” Jamie muttered. 

Hannah sheathed her lightsabre, but kept the hilt at the ready. “Needs must. Miss Clayton, you were taking us inside?” 

Dani snapped her mouth shut from where she had been gaping at the scene. “Oh,” she said, then started forward. “Right! Yes. We just need to go down this hall here.” 

Thankfully, the next hall was completely empty. They jumped the barriers at the checkpoint and continued down another hallway leading to a set of armour-reinforced doors, which Dani opened with the press of her hand. The doors slid open, and suddenly they were face to face with a whole squad of Imperial soldiers. 

Jamie didn’t know who was more shocked to see the other. Them. Or the Imperials. One member of the squad was kneeling down by the corner of the door, trying to hack his way through the system to get the doors open. 

Jamie shot him, while at the same time Dani slammed her hand back down on the bioscanner to shut the doors before the Imperials could react. 

“Right,” said Rebecca, who had also taken out her blaster pistol and was ready to fire at the next thing that moved. “Any other ways in?”

Dani shook her head.

“Front door?” Owen offered. 

With a low groan, Jamie shifted her grip upon her blaster pistol and jerked her head at Owen and Hannah. “Knights up front.”

Sighing, Hannah and Owen nevertheless dutifully stepped forward and unsheathed their sabres, purple and blue blades between the two of them. 

Dani hovered her hand over the bioscanner, but hadn’t unsheathed her own lightsabre. “Is this really the best idea?”

“Too late now,” Jamie grumbled.

“I told you,” said Rebecca.

“Shut it.” 

“Open it,” Hannah said to Dani in an exasperated tone of voice. 

Dani did so. All of the Imperials had retreated to find cover behind massive pillars and big statues that lined the great hall. The moment Jamie saw one of their stupid grey caps poking around a pillar, she took aim over Owen’s shoulder and fired. Bloody Imps fired back, and soon the air was filled with a volley of blaster fire ricocheting off stone pillars and archways, sending chips of stone spinning across the floor.

Hannah and Owen deflected anything coming their way with an almost lazy indifference, as though they were swatting a few pesky flies out of the sky. An Imperial soldier was hit by his own blaster fire and fell to the ground. Jamie nailed another one in the shoulder, and he swore loudly, crouching back behind cover. 

Ducking down slightly, Rebecca nudged Hannah’s shoulder. “Can you two advance? Slowly?” 

Owen nodded and the two of them walked forward in step with one another, deflecting incoming blaster fire as they went. Realising what was happening, the Imperial squadron began to panic. A handful tried to make a run for another pillar further along the hallway in an attempt to put ground between them and leaving behind a few of their injured peers in the process. Owen reached out his hand, made a pulling motion, and it were as though three of the fleeing soldiers were yanked back on wires. Hannah chucked her lightsabre — Jamie really couldn’t think of a more eloquent way to describe it apart from ‘chucked’ — and the blade went spinning forward through the air, slicing clean through the soldiers before returning straight to her hand in time for her to sweep aside another attack. 

The only soldier left alive was the one Jamie had shot in the shoulder. He was pressing a hand to his wound, sitting on the ground with his legs sprawled and his back leaning against a pillar base. Rebecca rounded the pillar and cocked her blaster pistol.

“Please,” the soldier whimpered. 

“Don’t try that shit with me,” Rebecca hissed. “I know what you do to POWs.”

When she raised her pistol as though to whip him with it, he flinched, but the blow never came. Hannah had reached out and the air seemed to solidify into a jelly that held back Rebecca’s arm.

“Miss Jessel,” said Hannah, “Forgive me, but I will not be complicit in the mistreatment of prisoners of war.” 

The muscles stood out on Rebecca’s jaw, but she nodded and the sensation of being held underwater rushed from the air. Jamie felt at her own chest and cleared her throat. 

“Is it safe to come out yet?” asked a distant voice.

With a frown Jamie turned to find that Dani had remained behind in the hallway, and her head was poking through the door, peering left and right for any sign of lingering danger. Jamie waved her over and Dani quickly crossed the room to stand beside her. 

Meanwhile Rebecca shook her head and holstered her blaster pistol. “Last time I saw you, you made mince of seasoned soldiers.”

Ducking her head, Dani shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, her grip tight around the unlit hilt of her lightsabre. “I wasn’t really myself then.” 

“Clearly.”

Jamie nudged the injured soldier with the toe of her boot. “Oi. Where’s the Sith gone?”

At the mere mention of the Sith, his face went pale, his dark eyes glancing between the five of them standing over him. His voice trembled when he spoke. “We - We were just supposed to hold ground behind him.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Owen assured him. “Just tell us which way he went.” 

The Imperial soldier lifted a shaking hand and pointed at a door further along the hallway, branching to the left. Dani sucked in a sharp breath.

“What’s that way?” Jamie asked.

“Lord and Lady Wingrave’s quarters,” said Dani. 

“There are others,” the soldier said. “My squad was just supposed to flush out any stragglers.”

“Any other way in?” asked Rebecca. 

“Uh -” Dani bit her lower lip and glanced about the great hall. “That wing has been shut for years, but I think - I think so. Yes.” 

Jamie made a shooing gesture. “Lead the way.” 

“What about me?” said the Imperial soldier. 

“Owen?” said Hannah.

“Right,” said Owen, and he leaned down to tap the soldier aside the head, upon which the soldier immediately slumped, head lolling to one side, fast asleep. 

“Useful, that,” Jamie mused. “Can you do that to me next time I’ve had too much stimcaf late in the evening?”

“Only if you want a migraine when you wake up,” Owen said dryly. 

“Mmm. On second thought -” 

“Come on, you two,” Rebecca said in exasperation, already following closely after Dani and Hannah down another hallway. 

Leaving the wreckage of the main hall, they hurried after their guide. Dani led them through twisting corridors and broad rooms, the house like a vast labyrinth of doors sprawling in all directions. At one point they passed through what was clearly a little girl’s room — at least, if all the dolls and the miniature estate were any indication. Jamie accidentally trod on something, and she glanced down.

It was a handmade doll. Pale-skinned. Grey-robed. Long and dark-haired. And completely faceless. 

With a faint shudder, Jamie kicked the doll aside and continued after Dani who had taken them to — of all places — a walk in closet. At the far end of the closet was a floor-length mirror. Dani froze so suddenly that Jamie almost walked into the back of her. 

“What’s -?” Jamie started to ask but never finished. 

Looking over Dani’s shoulder, she could see all of them reflected in the glass, except Dani. In her stead, a grey-gowned shadow with a face worn smooth by time and memory. 

“Dani,” Jamie murmured, staring at the reflection. When she touched the small of Dani’s back, Dani jolted and the apparition vanished like a wisp of smoke. 

“It’s fine,” said Dani too quickly, her voice tight as a clenched fist. 

“Is something wrong?” Owen asked, peering over the tops of their heads for a better look.

“No,” Dani insisted. “It’s nothing.” 

Feeling vaguely sick, Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but Dani had already stepped forward, approaching the mirror with a trembling outstretched hand. A press of her fingers and the mirror swung forward on hidden hinges, revealing a dark passageway yawning beyond it. Inside there echoed the sounds of blaster fire, of grenades and men screaming in the distance. 

“Yeah - uh - no offense,” said Rebecca, “but I do not want to go in there.” 

Dani steeled herself and took a step inside. When she peered back at them, one of her eyes gleamed golden and owlish from the shadows. “It’s the only shortcut to the Lord and Lady’s wing. I discovered it by accident one day.”

And without further ado, she turned and vanished into the narrow warren. When the others all stepped forward to follow Dani into the darkness, Rebecca groaned and trailed after them. Jamie lost all sight when Rebecca shut the mirror behind them. Owen unsheathed his lightsabre, holding it up into the air to light the way as though he were carrying a blue torch. Dani was already far ahead, walking without the aid of light, a silhouette through the murk. 

The sounds of battle grew louder the further they delved. At one point Jamie nearly jumped out of her skin when a bang made the wall to her immediate left vibrate and shed flecks of plaster. 

“Fuck’s sake,” Jamie gasped, clutching her chest in one hand and her blaster pistol in the other. “Can we please get out of here? I think I’m going to have a heart attack.” 

Dani walked a few more steps, then stopped before a section of wall that looked like all the other sections of wall. That was until Owen drew close enough that the light from his sabre revealed the faint outline of an old mechanical panel. Dani placed her hand upon it and glanced over her shoulder at the others.

“Ready?” 

Hannah pushed the button to unsheathe her lightsabre, and she and Owen took up post on either side of Dani, while Rebecca and Jamie stood behind them, blasters at the ready. Dani gave Jamie a questioning look, waiting for a nod before she drew a deep breath and twisted the panel to a horizontal position. 

The wall rumbled slightly, then swung outward with a groan of hinges. The room beyond was not, as Jamie had originally suspected, a bedroom. Instead it was a sprawling lounge. Once lush and wood-panelled, the walls lined with old paintings, now filled with smoke and blaster fire. Guardsmen in House Thul colours scrambled to hold ground in this last bastion of the manor, while Imperial soldiers crowded the only entrance chokepoint. 

Neither side had yet noticed the ragtag group of Jedi, smugglers, a gardener and a governess that had walked through an enormous painting along the wall. 

Jamie didn’t need to be told this time where the Sith had gone; it was clearly evident in the path of destruction in his wake. Dead guardsmen in various states of dismemberment. Great gouges raked along the floor and walls, the stone still simmering with the faint glow of embers. A pillar had been cut completely in half and was sprawled along the ground. The room was a scarred and smoking ruin barely clinging to life, leading up a set of sweeping stone staircases, and the path curving out of sight beyond a cavalcade of slashed portraits. 

“Rebecca,” said Hannah in a brook-no-nonsense tone. “With me. We will hold off the Imperial troops. The rest of you -” She looked at the three of them, ending with a softer glance towards Owen. “Find the children. And come back to me.” 

Owen nodded and his moustache twitched in a tell tale smile. Then he looked back at Jamie and Dani, jerking his head towards the staircase. “Follow me.” 

Rebecca was already going through the motions of checking her blaster pistol to ensure it would shoot without error. 

“Are you keen to kill a few Imperials, Miss Jessel?” Hannah asked, sounding amused.

Rebecca smiled and cocked the pistol. “Always.”

Hannah made a gesture towards the fight. “After you.” 

And they were off to the races. Jamie shook her head after them, then followed Owen, who was already hurrying up the stairs with Dani. There were no soldiers here, neither Imperial nor Thulian. The door to the sleeping quarters was open, and the sound of muted conversation issued forth, as of two people discussing a mundane topic over a drink. Steeling herself, Jamie stepped into the room just behind Owen and Dani. 

The room sprawled, as large and opulent as the rest of the estate. A four poster bed stood proudly at the far end. Portraits continued to dot the walls at all levels. There were a few armchairs and a plush couch, and in the centre of the very room, two men.

The Sith wore a black and fully self-contained suit, complete with a red-eyed mask and tubes that hooked over his neck and shoulder into some sort of apparatus at his back. Jamie had only ever seen someone wear an outfit like this once before, and it was to combat the Rakghoul plague on Taris. His speech was interspersed with sporadic coughing fits, but his movements were steady. He held up Lord Wingrave in the air with the Force as easily as though holding up a cup of tea. 

“You cannot hide them forever,” he was saying, his voice altered through a respirator. “I will tear this manor apart, limb from limb. And that gift which to others hath been a boon shall to you be a very bane."

Owen hefted his lightsabre and said in a commanding tone, “Let him go.” 

The Sith glanced over his shoulder and turned. The eyes of his mask were scarlet half-moons that gleamed through the darkly paneled space. Behind him Lord Wingrave continued to choke, face purpling. 

The Sith tilted his head, sizing up his unexpected company. Then to Jamie’s shock and confusion, the Sith bowed to them — or, rather, to Dani. 

"My Lady," he said, straightening. "Your presence humbles me. We shall find for you a more suitable host in due course."

Dani stared at him in absolute horror, saying nothing. 

Owen stepped forward. “Your fight is with us, not him.” Owen gestured towards Lord Wingrave with his lightsabre, and he repeated, “Let him go.” 

“But of course,” said the Sith. He unsheathed his lightsabre — red as a bloody dawn — and held it to the side so that when he released the Force, Lord Wingrave fell directly upon the blade. 

Dani cried out, but Jamie held her back before she could move forward. Lord Wingrave slumped, his body pierced completely through the chest. He choked on an inhalation, and then the Sith deactivated the lightsabre, and Lord Wingrave crumpled to the floor. 

The Sith stepped over his body, approaching them and coughing, a wet and sickly rattling of his lungs. When he spoke, he addressed Dani alone, as though she were the only person in the room. “The Force has brought you to my side. And I will not let such an opportunity slip between my fingers.” 

At the front of the group, Owen kept looking between the approaching Sith and the man dying in his wake. He did not turn around to ask Jamie, “Think you handle this?” 

Jamie glanced at Lord Wingrave. His chest was still rising and falling, but his breaths were shallow and growing weaker by the second. 

“No,” said Jamie. “But go anyway. I’ll cover you.” 

With a nod, Owen sprinted forward. Jamie fired several shots at the Sith, not aiming to hit, just to distract. The Sith, of course, deflected every blaster fire with his lightsabre as though batting aside a particularly irritable fly. However the cover fire served its purpose, and Owen was able to slip by without the Sith engaging him in combat directly. 

Indeed, the Sith seemed utterly uninterested in anything else in the room that wasn’t Dani. He continued to stride forward, steps slow and sure and steady as the tide. Behind him, Owen dragged Lord Wingrave into the far corner beside the bed, lightsabre sheathed, and began to tend his wounds. Jamie wasn’t well versed in the healing arts — never would be, truth be told — and honestly it seemed like all Owen was doing was meditating beside Lord Wingrave’s body. Must’ve done something, though. At least, she hoped it did.  

And all the while, the Sith was striding towards them with singular intent. 

"You can start shooting again now," Dani muttered to Jamie.

"Do you remember blaster fire being useful against you?" Jamie asked, incredulous, even as she holstered her pistol. 

“No,” said Dani. Even so, she pulled out her lightsabre hilt, ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment’s notice. 

The Sith stopped a few paces away. Close enough that Jamie could see the scars on his armour, the ragged hems of his robes, the piercing quality of his mask’s eyes. When he spoke, it was only to Dani, as though Jamie weren’t there at all. 

“Your love for these people makes you weak. You are ruled by your own fear, rather than taking control of it. If only you had the stomach,” he hissed. “You could be so much more. But as you are, you’re not fit to play host to The Lady.” 

Dani’s hands trembled around the hilt of the lightsabre, but her voice was steady and clear. “You know nothing about me.” 

The Sith’s laughter was broken by coughing, his broad shoulders shaking, yet for all that he never appeared any less commanding a presence. “Your emotions betray you. Lay you bare. I can taste your fear, feel your anger.” 

He circled round her with slow footsteps and Dani turned to follow him with the tip of her lightsabre. She shook her head, eyes unyielding, jaw tightly held. 

“No?” he asked, his tone amused through the rasp of his respirator. “Then, prove me wrong.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamie said, low and warning. She could see the way Dani’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but otherwise Dani did nothing. 

“What are you waiting for?” he growled, and in a motion too quick to follow he hefted his lightsabre — the blade a darker, muddier red beside the pure crimson of Dani’s kyber — and slashed at Dani’s feet with a snarl, making her leap back and leaving a smouldering furrow in the ground. “Strike me down!”

Dani regained her footing and brought her lightsabre back up into a defensive position.

“I will kill all you hold dear. I will make you watch as they die. I will take you to my master on Dromund Kaas as a prize, and you will know such suffering. Until we pry the soul from your lungs. Until the very end.” The Sith stalked to and fro like a great animal pacing its enclosure, dragging the tip of his lightsabre on the ground behind him so that sparks scattered at his footsteps. “Your name will be a blight on this house, a mark of its end. I will find these children and make them instruments of the Dark, and they will know that you were the reason why.” 

Hands tightening around the hilt of her sabre, Dani’s eyes darted away from him and towards one of the paintings hung low on the far wall. The Sith paused, then followed her gaze.

“There you are,” he murmured. 

He reached out a hand and the painting was ripped from its hidden hinges on the wall, revealing a small chamber beyond, just enough for people to hide objects of value. Except in this case, there were two children huddled and crouched. The elder of the two — a boy — saw Lord Wingrave sprawled on the ground, attended to by Owen, and he cried out, “Uncle Henry!” 

“Miles, don’t -!” Dani shouted.

The Sith caught him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him close. Miles struggled and kicked, but the Sith’s grip was iron. 

“My, look at you,” the Sith said, tilting his head as though appraising a piece of fine jewelry. “So wrathful for one so small.” 

Miles tried to claw at the Sith’s respirator, and for this he was backhanded so hard he staggered and fell, clutching his cheek. Both Dani and Jamie took an abortive step forward. His sister raced forward to make sure he was all right. 

The Sith gestured to the children behind him. “New apprentices for my master. Or perhaps, only one is needed.” 

When he raised his lightsabre, Dani moved before Jamie could stop her. She caught the blade with her own, parrying it aside and putting herself between him and the children, lightsabre raised and ready, eyes hard. The Sith tested the edge of Dani’s blade, the sound of two lightsabres running against one another like nothing else, electrifying the very air, and they began to circle around one another like a pair of vultures over a carcass. 

The Sith moved with the swiftness of a snake, striking with sure movements that Dani could barely deflect, her brow pinched in concentration. As they moved about the room, Jamie sprinted forward, avoiding the fight so she could crouch down beside the children.

Miles was fine, though addled and shaken. His breath came shallowly and he trembled more from fear than anything else. The girl meanwhile was putting on a brave face.

“Hey. Hi. I’m Jamie,” she said, slightly breathless. “Can you stand?” she asked Miles. 

He nodded, but struggled to do so. She picked him up and half carried him towards a more sheltered corner, urging the young girl to follow her closely. Jamie checked Miles for any other wounds, but there was nothing but the bruise blooming across his cheek. 

“You’ll be right,” she murmured, cupping said cheek and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. 

Behind her, Dani was losing ground, giving ground, defending rather than attacking. The Sith seemed to be toying with her, darting his blade in various directions to see how she would react, testing the waters and thoroughly enjoying himself if his creepy fucking laughter was any indication. 

“Stay here,” Jamie said in a low tone to the kids, eyes fixed upon the Sith. 

Her blaster pistol was next to useless in a fight like this. Jamie patted herself down. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her slacks and withdrew the small mining laser. Its blade extended maybe only a few centimeters in length, bright green and hot. 

Glancing up, Jamie watched as Dani and the Sith circled one another like two wary predators. She adjusted the mining laser in her grip and waited until the Sith’s back was to her. Then, drawing a deep steadying breath, she rushed forward before her courage could fail, and stabbed into his back. The laser’s tip pierced through one of the hoses wrapped around his neck and shoulder. Instead of oxygen leaking out, a billow of sickly yellow smoke streamed from the ruptured section of hose, smelling strongly of sulphur. With a snarl, the Sith turned and slashed his lightsabre in a raking blow. Jamie ducked to the side but not fast enough. 

The last time Jamie had been on the wrong end of a lightsabre wound, it had burned a hole straight through her shoulder as though her bones were made of softened butter. This was a similar experience, and one she had hoped to never feel again. The tip of the lightsabre whipped up, missing her arm and torso, and instead scoring her face. 

A flare of white-hot pain. Jamie flinched and scrambled away, nearly losing her footing and only managing to catch herself on the edge of an armchair. The mining laser clattered to the floor. One hand reached up to test the left side of her face, and she grit back a hiss through her teeth. She had shut her eyes reflexively and was now afraid to open them for fear that one might not work anymore. Tentatively she peeled them open — one after the other. Her left eye stung, unable to see through the curtain of blood dripping down her face. She blinked and tried to wipe the blood away, but stopped when she accidentally touched the wound slashed from brow to cheek. 

“Are you okay?” asked a small voice through the din, close by. 

The boy, Miles, had crawled over to check on her, his face pale. Jamie nodded and tried to stand up, but felt woozy. Flashes of red and animalistic snarls. With her right eye Jamie could just make out two figures fighting tooth and nail in the centre of the room. 

Where before Dani had never attacked, now she never defended. Her lightsabre struck out, sharp and sweeping and reckless, always advancing, always taking ground, always seeking an opening, demanding an opening, finding an opening. The Sith stumbled back with a desperate parry, the air like a painting itself streaked with the red of their sabres and the yellow of sulphur and the bright, crucible gold of Dani’s gaze. And it was cold, a cold so deep Jamie could feel it congeal the blood on her face. 

Dani thrust out her hand, a wave of the Force slamming into his chest and forcing the Sith back until he was cornered against the foot of the four-poster bed. He held his lightsabre up to deflect another attack, but could not move as Dani rained down blow after wailing blow. No art to it now. Just mad ferocity. Hacking at him as if with an axe, teeth-bared, hair wild, terrifying to behold.

“Shit.” Jamie kept a hand on Miles’ shoulder, putting herself between him and the scene unfolding even as she fought the urge to shrink back, to grab him and run for the exit. 

Something darted just under Jamie’s sight, a flurry of movement past her bad eye. Before she could stop her, Flora raced over and jumped atop the bed, wide-eyed and terrified. “Stop it! Miss Clayton, Stop!” 

Dani froze, panting, lightsabre lifted overhead, mid-swing. She blinked, her face slackened, and she slowly lowered the lightsabre with a small shake of her head. The Sith at her feet was wheezing, wracked with intermittent coughs as the gas in his suit bled out. And when her guard was lowered just fractionally too much, he let out a sound like a growl and stabbed. 

Dani swept her lightsabre down in time to block the attack. What exchanged was a brief flurry of action so fast Jamie could scarcely follow it. Parry, riposte, and then they were poised in trembling finality, Dani’s lightsabre struck through his chest in a killing blow. 

The Sith’s hand trembled. He reached forward to clutch her close by the shoulder and whisper something in Dani’s ear. Jamie couldn’t hear what he said. She could only see the way Dani’s eyes widened, the way Dani sheathed the lightsabre and caught him before his body could fall to the ground, lowering him gently into death. 

Jamie let go of Miles, and he raced forward towards his uncle, kneeling beside him. Owen seemed to come from a trance, looking pale and exhausted. When Henry took a deep breath and sat up, Miles made a sound both choked and relieved, hugging him tight. Meanwhile, Lord Wingrave grimaced in pain, barely able to do more than wrap an arm around his nephew and send Owen a confused glance. 

Mopping up the side of her face with the sleeve of her shirt, Jamie stepped forward. Dani was still kneeling on the ground, supporting the weight of the Sith with a dazed expression on her face. The young Wingrave girl sat crouched on the bed, trembling and frozen in place. Jamie touched Dani’s shoulder, feeling the tense of muscle there, and urge her to stand upright so she could bring her into a swift and fierce hug. Dani breathed harshly in her ear, sounding dazed, sounding thready and disbelieving. 

“I’ve got you,” Jamie said. “I’ve got you. Well done.” 

Dani reached out a hand and pulled the Wingrave girl into the hug until the three of them stood there in vaguely puzzled bliss, unsure of how exactly they had escaped, unscathed. 

When Dani let go, the Wingrave girl jumped down from the bed to join her brother beside Owen, the three of them checking on her uncle. Dani’s gaze followed them, looking pained, even guilty. 

“Hey,” Jamie said, drawing Dani’s attention. She pointed at her own face. “We match.”

For a moment Dani simply blinked at her in confusion until Jamie indicated her own fucked up eye. Then Dani laughed, shocked, brief, and belly-deep. She reached up and gently stroked the side of Jamie’s face, her expression pained. “I’m sorry.” 

“Some things are more important,” said Jamie, lifting her hand to cover Dani’s. “Like: does it make me look dashing?”

With another incredulous laugh, Dani leaned forward instead of answering and kissed her. Jamie winced when Dani’s nose brushed against the burn on her cheek. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry! Sorry.” 

Dani pulled back and tried to pull her hand away as well, but Jamie held it where it was so she could press her lips to the centre of Dani’s palm. 

Owen was urging Lord Wingrave to his feet when Hannah strode into the room. Her lightsabre was hooked back onto her belt. She had a few marks on her otherwise pristine burgundy robes, evidence of the fight she and Rebecca had endured on the front lines. Rebecca herself was in deep conversation with a Thulian guardsman near the exit.

Dani spared Jamie a rare smile before she rushed over to Henry and the others when Jamie let her go. Touching the wounded side of her face, Jamie blinked through a layer of crusted blood and was gratified to find she could, in fact, see through her left eye. 

“How’d you get on?” she asked as Hannah stopped before her. 

“All’s quiet on the front,” answered Hannah. “The Imperial invasion of House Thul has been thoroughly cast aside.” 

“Happy fuckin’ days,” said Jamie, still exploring the wound on her face with a tentative press of her fingertips. 

“You look a little worse for wear,” Hannah replied, cocking her head to one side. “Though you seem to have done the job.”

Lowering her hands, Jamie gave a bitter laugh. “Not me. All Dani. I just stood there like a muppet half the time. And got injured, to boot.” 

Hannah made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Pasha and his Troopers were looking for a Sith assassin.” She nudged the dead Sith’s robes with the toe of her boot. “This looks like a Sith assassin to me.”

“Yeah, but they were looking for someone of Dani’s description.”

“Unfortunate that,” Hannah sighed. “How easy it is for innocent people to be pulled into the undertow of Sith machinations. Lord Wingrave will say nothing of her, I’m sure; his debt is too great. The children are young; they will forget. And the overwhelming evidence will say that Danielle Clayton was never here.”

Jamie stared down at the Sith corpse before her. She mused over the possibility of tearing off his mask and looking upon his face, before coming to the conclusion that she would rather not know. That he was better in her memories as this — the awful caricature that he wished to be perceived as. With a shake of her head, Jamie tore her gaze away in favour of watching Dani across the room. 

Dani talking to the children. Dani talking with Owen. Dani tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and standing with hands clasped gently before her and an auspicious smile on her face. 

"Such a small thing. Such a little thing to house the echo of a soul," Hannah mused beside her. "It's got me to wondering about our dear friend Miss Clayton."

Jamie made a noise to indicate she was listening, even while both their eyes remained training on Dani, watching her chat with Owen and Lord Wingrave.

"Holocrons, you see," continued Hannah, "wouldn't make for very good receptacles of secret knowledge if they could be opened by just anyone. To open one requires use of the Force. A great deal of it, I might add."

With a jerk, Jamie tore her gaze from Dani to stare at Hannah. Then she turned her head back towards Dani, who was now crouching down to talk to one of the children — the little girl. Jamie watched as the girl threw her arms around Dani’s neck and something flickered, gold and bright, in Dani’s eye, her expression unreadable before she relaxed and returned the hug with an easy warmth.

“Does she know?" Jamie asked.

Hannah shrugged. "I have hinted at it, but thought it best to leave it at that for now. She should come to this realisation on her own. I'm telling you, because in the future the two of you might want to explore what she is."

"And what is she?"

Hannah smiled. "Herself, of course."

Across the room, Rebecca gestured from the main entryway and called out. “Pubs incoming. We should get a move on.” 

Dani straightened, hand lingering on the girl’s shoulder. She nudged Flora towards Owen, who was now talking directly to the Wingrave boy. Meanwhile Henry took the opportunity to pull Dani into a grateful hug of his own, making Dani go rigid all over then laugh nervously and pat his shoulder. As Jamie watched her, she felt something warm in her chest unspool. 

Beside her there came a slight cough. Glancing at Hannah with a frown, Jamie said, “What?”

Looking like she was trying to bite back a smile, Hannah shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, one hand toying with a gold earring. “Just nice to see you so unsurly for once. She’s a good influence on you, that one.” 

Jamie narrowed her eyes. She nudged Hannah’s elbow with her own and grumbled, “Shut it.”

Hannah chuckled, a low warm sound. When Jamie started towards the exit as well, Hannah did not follow. 

Jamie stopped. “You coming?” 

With an all-encompassing gesture towards their ruined surroundings, Hannah said, “Someone has to stay behind and spin a tale for the Republic Troopers. And doubtless there’ll be paperwork for Owen and I to fill out regarding our new Temple initiates.”

Jamie nodded. “Thanks. I owe you one.” 

“You and I both know that’s not how this works, dear.” 

“Right.” Jamie gave a rueful shake of her head and rubbed at the new scars on her face; they itched something fierce. “More Jedi bantha shit.” 

Rather than take umbrage with Jamie’s word choice, Hannah simply made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “The fact you think that doesn’t apply to you after all these years -” Hannah trailed off and waved Jamie away. “Laughable. Really.”

Jamie backed away towards the door in lazy strides. “We’ll see you soon?” 

“You had better,” Hannah replied in a warning tone. “Three years of nothing but pre-recorded postcards? The gall.” 

With a laugh, Jamie blew Hannah a kiss — which earned her an exasperated roll of Hannah’s eyes — before finally turning and walking towards the exit, headlong. Dani stood just outside the doorway, waiting. When Jamie drew near enough, Dani tangled their fingers together and gave Jamie a tremulous smile. 

“Okay?” Dani asked. 

Jamie squeezed Dani’s hand. “Yeah. Perfect.” 

Dani reached up but did not actually touch Jamie’s face. “We should probably get this looked at.”

“Later,” said Jamie with a dismissive shrug. “I bet Jane can’t wait to hold my head under a kolto tank until I drown.” 

“Jane likes you,” Dani insisted, dragging Jamie along so that the two walked after Rebecca and out of House Thul. 

“Do they, though?”

“Well,” said Dani, then she paused in consideration. “I think so, anyway.” 

Guardsmen of House Thul scurried about. They were taking prisoners and speaking into comm units to — presumably — incoming Republic troops. Dani and Jamie slipped past them all, doing their best to avoid all and any notice. Nobody stopped them, just as nobody stopped Rebecca, until the three of them had left the manor and stood before Rebecca’s ship. The three Imperial soldiers were still sprawled on the ground from when Rebecca had shot them. The Corporal’s eyes were glassy, his muscles rigid in death. 

When they had reached the ship proper, Rebecca holstered her pistol and turned. “Guess this is it,” she said. 

Jamie stopped and squinted at her friend. "If I hug you, are you going to taser me again?"

"Depends on where you put your hands." With a laugh, Rebecca pulled her into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie returned the gesture, tucking her face into Rebecca’s shoulder before stepping away.

"I really need to dash before either the Pubs or Imps find out I've been here." Rebecca grasped Jamie's shoulder. "We even, now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, then. Wait -" Jamie said when Rebecca took a step back. "How are we supposed to get off the surface without you?"

Rebecca made a vague gesture to the sky. "Jane has a transport shuttle. Just call for it."

"Jane has a transport shuttle?"

"Good grief, Jamie. I gave you one of my favourite ships. The least you could do is talk to it."

"I'll think about it." Jamie grinned when Rebecca rolled her eyes. "We'll probably head off to -"

"Ah, ah!" Rebecca shook her head and mimed covering one ear. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

Her dark eyes drifted over Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie heard light footsteps approaching, and Dani stepped up beside her. She smiled at Rebecca. “Just thought I should say thank you, before you go.”

“My pleasure. Really.” Rebecca held out her hands. “Don’t suppose you want a hug, too?”

With a shake of her head, Dani nevertheless stepped forward, smiling into the hug. Rebecca patted Dani on the back, her hand getting tangled up in Dani’s nanosilk cloak. 

Laughing, Rebecca stepped away, untangling her hand from Dani’s cloak. “How you manage to fight with that thing on is a miracle.” 

Dani straightened the cloak around her shoulders, grinning broadly. “Just lucky, I guess.” 

“From what I understand, luck has nothing to do with it.” Rebecca glanced between Dani and Jamie, her smile softening. Behind her, her ship lowered its gangway. Rebecca lifted her hand and touched her brow in a jaunty sort of salute. “Don’t be strangers.” 

Dani waved as Rebecca turned and boarded her ship. The gangway retracted behind her and the ship sealed itself. Jamie watched through the transparisteel windows of the cockpit as Rebecca strapped herself into the captain’s chair. The engines revved to life and with a burn of fuel, the ship rose up into the air, and she was gone. 

Jamie fished out a handheld transponder from her pocket. "Jane?"

The ship's computer spoke through the little speaker. "How may I be of assistance?"

"We need to get off the surface. Think you can help?"

"I am sending a transport shuttle now. Estimated time of arrival: two minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Please stand by."

Lowering the transponder, Jamie pocketed it right beside the small mining laser. Dani had her head tipped back to look at the sky to watch Rebecca’s ship go, shielding her face from the watery sunlight with the flat of her hand. With a smudge of dirt across her cheek and her hair a-tumble, standing amidst the rubble of a warzone, she was perfect.

"Do you think it's warm on Corsin?" Dani asked idly. When Jamie did not answer, Dani lowered her hand and tipped her chin back down to face her. She blinked in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

The cold mountain breeze toyed with the long curls of Dani's hair that had come loose during the fight. With a smile, Jamie gave a slow disbelieving shake of her head. Then she reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dani's ear. 

“You,” she said. “Just you.”

—

—

The ship’s engines hummed steadily. Rebecca had set the computer to control autopilot, and now stood over a small table in what was supposed to be the dining area. She never used it for that. Only for storage. The place was littered with things most people would pass over with a sniff of disdain, but which years of experience had taught her could get her out of a bad scrap in a pinch. 

The table was cleared of everything except the frame of a square object, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand and made of a black gold metal. Inscriptions had been carved into each triangular section, the pieces carefully assembled into a diminutive and unassuming box. Reaching into her pocket, Rebecca pulled out a final triangular piece. For a moment she turned it over between her fingers, then set it carefully into place, so that the holocron was once more complete. 

The holocron hummed, filled with a brief intense light, then went out like a snuffed candle. 

“Well,” said Rebecca softly. “Shit.”

Behind her a light blinked at the terminal dash. With a grimace, Rebecca looked around before slinging a spare jacket over the holocron to hide it. When she touched it even through the fabric however, she could still feel a faint hum that tingled through her palm and all the way up her arm, an intense numbing itch. Shaking her hand free of the sensation, Rebecca turned around. She ran a hand over her hair and clothes to ensure her appearance was somewhat tidy. Then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and pressed a blinking button on the terminal. She tucked her hands smartly behind her back and lifted her chin as a holo flickered to life.

The projection was life-sized. A towering figure all in black. Black robes. Black hood. Face hidden utterly behind a black mask. Rebecca set her jaw and swallowed, tamping down the unsettling urge to look the figure in the eye, even though there were no eyes to look at. And though there were whole solar systems between them, she could not shake herself of the feeling that if the figure reached out, they could grab her by the neck and hoist her up into the air as easily as if she were a child’s toy doll. 

When the figure spoke, their voice was deep and crackling through the speakers of their mask. “Have you recovered the holocron?”

Rebecca kept her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze kept straight ahead at a space just over the figure’s shoulder. “Yes, my Lord." 

“And?” 

“Nothing,” she said. “It seems to be inactive, now that The Lady no longer resides within it.” 

“I find that disappointing,” said the figure. 

A brief terrifying silence followed, during which Rebecca counted her heartbeats, wondering when they would stop. She squeezed her hands together behind her back when the figure started to speak again. 

“Where is the host now?” 

“I do not know,” Rebecca answered.

The figure tipped their head slightly to one side and a red light gleamed across the mask. “Are you lying to me, Agent Jessel?” 

“No, my Lord.” 

“Quint thought he was a good liar. You’re not under such delusions, are you?” 

“No, my Lord,” she repeated.

Behind her, she swore she could feel the holocron hum. She had to dig her fingernails into the palm of the hand that had touched it through layers of cloth to ground herself. The figure’s head jerked towards the sensation, sightless gaze watching the space behind Rebecca as though they could see beyond the simple holo of herself she would have projected in return. Most days she was confident in the fact that she had coded her holo to not give away any of her surroundings, no matter where she was. Today, she was not so sure. 

The figure looked back at her. “You will return to Drommund Kaas to receive further instruction.”

“And the Jedi?”

“Are none of your concern, Agent. Report back immediately for a full debrief.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The holo flickered out of view. Only once the light had stopped blinking on the dash did Rebecca allow herself to breathe properly again. She inhaled deeply and shook her head. Then she turned and pulled the jacket off of the holocron. 

It was still unlit, but it hummed gently.

With one last look at it, Rebecca left the room and returned to the cockpit. She sat in the captain’s chair, keying in commands with practised ease. 

The coordinates to Dromund Kaas were set, and she hit the jump command to hyperspace. 

[motleymoose]

Homecoming: Astray, Ch. 2

Chapter 2

Laserfights in the Dust

Fandom: The Mandalorian Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Gender-neutral Reader, Unidentified Stormtroopers Words: 1.6k+ Warnings: Laser fights!, Angst???

Summary:

The bounty hunter may have caught me.

That's it. I'm caught and screwed and nothing could make this worse.

...Unless Stormtroopers are thrown into the mix.

Notes:

Heyo! Just an update:

I've several chapters in the works of being tweaked and edited. On that note, I just want to warn you that I'll be editing the first chapter of this part because holy moley I did NOT do the editing I thought I did before I posted it.

Hope you enjoy this installment of Homecoming. Check back this weekend for the last chapter of part 1!

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my words. I really really appreciate it!!!

Homecoming Masterlist

The Mandalorian’s ship was of an older gunner class, bulbous and clunky in all the wrong places. I immediately took a shine to it.

“Mother of Moons,” I breathed, drinking in the sight of the Razor Crest. The ship was ancient compared to its neighbors moored in the docking field, her dark gray hull splattered with pocks and burns from laser fire, and carbon residue dulled the once-bright metal. Amazed that she could still fly, I considered the costs and labor associated with keeping something like her up in the air. The bounty hunter must’ve employed a fragging good blackthumb, or at the very least had a mech droid to keep up with all the repairs the ship constantly would need. My fingers itched to caress the control panels and explore the access hubs. Engineering alone would’ve been something to behold.

I was a mechanic through-and-through.

My captor’s gait changed the closer we got to his ship. Weaving in and out of the stacks of crates and barrels awaiting transport into the village, I noted the speeders parked in the path we were taking, not too far away from the Crest. Before I could have a closer look, gloved fingers dug into the tender meat at my shoulder.

“Yours?” he snapped, blaster humming to life and jammed into my kidney.

I shook my head. “I don’t have anyone willing to risk their neck to rescue me. Whoever that is,” I discreetly waggled my eyebrows in the direction of the speedbikes, “probably wants me dead more than you do.”

The pistol’s barrel eased from my back, and I released the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. He accepted the answer I’d given, which was a first in my dealings with bounty hunters. I doubted greatly that he trusted me, but maybe a mutual respect was building in the hour we’d known each other.

With his hand between my shoulder blades, the bounty hunter urged me forward out of the relative safety of the unloaded cargo. I assumed we’d wait out whoever was waiting for us, but apparently the Mandalorian liked to act before he thought.

Shoving hard, the bounty hunter knocked me to my stomach, bound hands barely breaking my fall. Wheezing, I rolled onto my hip to snarl at him just as he raised his blaster and fired over my fragging head.

“Frag!” I screamed unheroically. I automatically flattened in the dust, cuffed hands over my head. Laser beams sliced through the air above me, some coming low enough to singe my hair. Letting instincts take over, I crawled on elbows and knees until I made it under the belly of the Crest. White armored legs dashed by my hiding spot, and I shrunk farther under the ship’s hefty bulk. Even with the Empire collapsed, there were still loyal factions spanning the known galaxy. I wasn’t too surprised at their arrival, only that the Imps still had enough credits to outfit their armies.

I tore my eyes away from the gunfight to look for an escape. Near the landing gear, a square hatch barely large enough to warrant much thought caught my racing mind. Pulling myself into a crouch, I shuffled over to it, using my little dagger to persuade it to open. A few frantic, scrabbling moments later, and I pulled myself up into the crawl space and snapped the panel shut behind me.

Inside the crawl space - no, access shaft, I shimmied on my belly towards the only source of light.

“Please be an access panel, please be an access panel…”

It was not an access panel.

The light was streaming weakly through a rectangular vent in the floor of what must have been the hold, the streaky dark and bright causing my eyes to swim. Turning onto my back, I took a moment to blink, forcing my eyes to adjust to the dim light. When I looked back through the vent grate, I saw a face peering back down at me.

“Oh frag!” I shrieked, dodging clumsily out of the light.

No sound or shouts of alarm followed, and I sucked in my breath and scootched back to the vent.

“Oh. You’re not what I expected.”

Above me lay a slab of carbonite. Inside the carbonite was a face twisted in pain and horror, hands bound in much the same way as mine. Every detail of the being frozen in time was on display, if I wanted to hang around and eyeball her some more. Was the Mandalorian going to do that to me?

Gulping nervously, I turned back to my belly and continued my slow crawl through the carbon dust and wires that lined the access tunnel in equal parts. I strained my eyes as best as I could, feeling them water and sting from the dust my movements stirred up. I couldn’t make out much of anything in the unlit space, but I didn’t want to light a flame in the off-chance the bounty hunter was carrying more than just frozen carbonite. I was going to have to use my other senses to find the crawl hatch into the hold. From there, freedom.

A rustle near my boots startled me out of the vague plan I was beginning to form about escaping. Looking over my shoulder, I could see nothing beyond the little square of light falling from the vent.

“Bugs. Probably just bugs,” I murmured to myself, not at all reassured by the waver in my tone. Exhaling softly, I continued forward.

I didn’t know how much time had passed since I’d entered the ship, but from the sounds happening, or worse yet, not happening outside, it was safe to assume the fight was over and to the victors went the spoils.

But who the victors were was still up for debate.

Urgently, I pushed through a particularly nasty tangle of wiring. Thick and winding and of all colors and sizes, some of the wires looked brand new while others were completely fried. A faint wisp of electrical smoke drifted lazily from a deep, melted gash severing a bundle that looked to be -

“The energy cycler wiring. Shit.” Quickly, I assessed the damage. The cut didn’t seem to go too deep, only about a quarter of the way through the wiring. I didn’t have the tools needed to make a decent repair job, but if I did nothing, the Razor Crest would strand anyone aboard her once the energy cycler ran dry. Which could be anytime as the damage looked like an older wound and I had no way of telling how much power was left in the containment systems.

Rolling onto my side, I awkwardly began to dig out what I had in my jumpsuit pockets that might help. Most of a roll of electotape; collapsible screwdriver base and tip case; handful of assorted plastic ties; hose clamps in various states of rust; thin, carefully folded sheets of aluminum foil; and my prized possession: customized multitool.

Feeling surprisingly lighter after emptying my pockets, I ordered my tools into a neat pile and got to work on the smoking wiring. I made sure to match every split wire with its original end. Using the foil, I connected the loose wires before taping over them with the stretchy black eletotape. Whenever the plastic coating proved to be in the way, I used the sharp cutter edge of my multitool to scrape it away and expose the damaged wiring, thus making it easier to reconnect. The plastic ties and hose clamps, the latter of the hardware being tightened with my collapsible screwdriver, were used to sort and organize the larger bundle into smaller, neater groups.

As I worked, sounds of rustling and rifling interspersed with tiny squeaks and sneezes floated through the air not that far from the soles of my boots. I forced myself to ignore it, hoping that whatever it was would stay well away from me until I was done repairing the wiring harness. I didn’t want to waste time fighting pests when my services could be better used fixing mechanical things.

Another sneeze, a delighted trill, and then the patter of small feet scurrying away alerted me that I was now, hopefully, alone. Tightening one last plastic strap with my teeth, I swiped my forehead with the back of a sooty hand and gazed proudly at my handiwork. Dang, I was good at cobbling together repairs.

A whirring clank shook the metal underneath me, and I jolted straight up, clunking my head painfully against the subflooring. Rubbing at the throbbing lump forming on the top of my head, I cursed myself silently and held my breath, listening.

Heavy boots thudded hollowly above me. Another clanking whir covered up most of the stream of Mando’a being growled above me, and I knew that the bounty hunter had won.

Frag.

Quietly as I could, I untangled myself from the wiring and inched away from the sounds of mumbling and stomping. I’d stowed away before, a long time ago, on a colonizing ship stopping on my backwater planet for refuelling and supplies.

But those had been farmers seeking a better life for themselves, not a warrior from a people more legend than truth, hunting me down for a bounty. I was in deeper kung than I wanted to admit.

The sounds of cursing and stomping disappeared, possibly to another deck, and I let out a heavy, relieved sigh. I didn’t have much time to plan before he ultimately found me, so I needed to come up with something that wasn’t going to get me killed, or worse - frozen in carbonite.

[sorrowful--owl]

What SW Bounty hunter Owl guns?

SW Bounty Hunter Owl tends to keep a great distance on her hunts, so she goes with sniper rifles, an X-500 Wraith Sharpshooter to be exact

she also put heat signature sights onto it, to get better view of targets if they live on snowy planets or a dust storm has kicked in

for up-close combat, should she find herself in it even if she does everything she can to avoid it, she uses a blaster pistol, an LL-30 much like Cad Bane. For another up-close weapon she also uses a blade she crafted from an unidentified animal species’ bone

[tweedpawn]

Duality of Dweebs- Zaharian and Della

@gabedoodles

Technically, Zaharian was a man with chestnut hair, scarred face, and a good build under charcoal-grey uniform. His peers, however, still referred to him as a boy with chestnut hair, and that was as much as they were willing to give credit to. So when assignment “Lottery” came, as Zaharian referred to tasks haphazardly given with little thought, he could sense a bit of confusion from his mates.            It was a “resource acquisition” mission. That was to say, it was a heist. The boy at least had some dexterity going for him, but was still rough around the edges in his developing skills. There were failed attempts at bribing the vending droids. There was the thing he did when he thought he was alone and would pretend to sneak around while humming his own theme song. 

           On the other hand, he was very gifted with technology. Once it was made clear that the resource being acquired was a foot-sized kyber crystal that had been polished and cut into the shape of a goblet, they understood that it would take someone who knew a thing or two about security systems.            Zaharian was thrilled. The mission was set in a museum, of the great metropolis of Coruscant. He could grab a good cup of caff, get the goods, and then settle for a nice dinner with the fat bonus that goblet was going to get him. So far, everything was going as planned.            He had disabled the exterior security systems. The doors were kept locked, to avoid too much suspicion. Security droids were outdated and slow to react. They might as well have been eating doughnuts and sleeping.            Zaharian was able to get rooftop access, slip into the attic, and then cut a hole past fiberglass, wood, and plaster. With a good bit of effort, any cameras nearby were currently replaying scenes of quieter days.            Zaharian carefully removed the panel he had cut. Not dropping a single spec of dust. He tapped a few lines of code into his datapad. Just to be certain that the proper security mechanisms were disabled. He strapped a grappling rope to the harness on his chest. With a smug dive, he lowered himself slowly to the precious object below like an outstretched spider.               The Chalice of the Force had been commissioned by a wealthy family who were lucky enough to own the land the crystal had been found in. Like many wealthy families, the idea of donating something valuable to a monastic order was met with restrained contempt. They found it much more contributable to society to carve the stone into a wineglass made further useless by ornate gold work and jewels.            Now it was going to be useful, but for the Empire. Waste not, want not. Zaharian always said. He flexed his fingers ready to finally commit to the thievery. Alarm systems were disengaged, so the glass top was removed without a sound. The chalice seemed to gain a greater weight without the enclosure.            Zaharian tilted his body to the side, to carefully set the glass case down without making noise or breaking it. It required a bit of finesse to avoid tipping anything over.            Then, looking back up, he saw ears. Long, sable, rabbit ears. They were attached to a pair of large staring eyes. His heart suddenly jumped. His breath leaped away from him, leaving only a tight throat. His face felt pale and his fingers turned to ice in a brief moment.  

Zaharian nearly screamed out of shock, instead biting his lip so only a high pitched whine was emitted. Instead, he bunched up, nearly scaling up his own grappling rope, and tilting the podium.            The rabbi- No, girl, Rabbit. Girl. Girl-rabbit. Grabbit. The thing managed to prevent the entire display from falling over. They locked eyes. Hers were dark-colored, almost brown. With a strange combination of curiosity, and the wild stare of a woodland animal.            Zaharian’s were blue, mixed with confusion, relief, and the look of someone who just noticed an uninvited guest. The two were silent, and Zaharian began to wonder if a poor teenager had been locked into the museum and needed help getting out.            He opened his mouth to silently ask her. Before a sound left his lips, he noticed that the girl was slooooooooooooooowly sliding the cup towards her. Zaharian protested, reaching out for the cup. Before his fingers could touch the gilded chalice, the rabbit darted back, and the podium fell over, shattering the glass case with a loud crash.            Zaharian gasped. He and the girl broke froze still. As soon as the alarms sounded, the girl leaped onto the Imperial’s rope and started to scale it like some common tree mammal.            “Hey! Wait!” Zaharian shouted. His arms flailed until he recalled the feature that would allow him to zipline back up to the attic. Zah situated himself to grab the girl as he jetted up the line.            It worked like a charm. He scooped both girl and cup into a grip before entering back into the attic. He had half a mind to just drop her, but the teenager suddenly clung to him like velcro.            “You’re in big trouble, little lady!” Zaharian barked, trying to wrestle between Chalice, Girl, and a blaster pistol. But, he wasn’t watching his head, and there was a thunk as he hit a wooden support beam his rope was tied to.            It didn’t take him out, but he was now in a tangled heap of limbs, frantically making sure the prize token didn’t fall. He couldn’t hold everything. The blaster pistol was knocked just out of reach onto some dated insulation, and the girl managed to slip out, running to the open window Zaharian had climbed through earlier.            “Nope!” The imperial grunted, quickly disconnecting the rope, reaching for his weapon and firing a plasma shot. He missed on the first shot. He realized that he was firing a lethal bullet at a teenage child and a great guilt flexed in his mind.            Stun would be just as effective, eh? And maybe after all this, as he dragged her sorry ass to a cell, they could all laugh about this little mix-up and convince a ragamuffin to enlist in a potential new career path with the Empire.            Scrambling over antiques, and forgotten cleaning supplies, Zaharian adjusted the safety on his pistol and set off to firing more shots. They all missed. How were they missing? The girl slipped through the window, Zaharian close behind her, but now needing both hands for climbing.            They scrambled over piping, ladder, and ledge. Zaharian managed to give a great lunge, grabbing the girl by the legs and causing her to fall.            “YOU. ARE. UNDER. ARREST!” He shouted, trying to scramble over the thief, and then watching in horror as the chalice slipped out of the girl’s grip, tumbling down a firescape and into a street gutter. Girl and Boy once again looked at each other, before madly climbing over one another to get off the roof first.  

           It hit the third floor fire escape first. Zaharian was there in a flash, a stroke of cat-like reflexes as he caught the cup from falling further. Already, the gold was getting bent and grimy. It was unfortunate, but the Empire could easily patch that up.            “Well, Miss, It was a pleasure meetin-” Zah had imagined himself slipping away, leaving a less agile street urchin in the dust. In his mind, he saw himself being witty and suave. A bit of flourish as he waved farewell.

What actually happened was the girl tackling Zah from the rooftop ledge, landing right in his chest, nearly causing the two of them to fall backwards over the railing to face a future splattered on concrete.  Zah’s iron grip and short stature saved them both from an unfortunate fate.            “You’re gonna get us both killed!” Zaharian cried, the hand with the goblet trying to stay out of reach of the rabbit as she climbed him like a spider monkey. He didn’t dare let go of his grip on the railing. Finally, he attempted to shove the teen off using his leg, only to lose balance and slipped, dropping the chalice.            It bounced down to the second level fire escape. The girl slid down the ladder and scooped up the cup, before making another leap off the second story and landing solidly on her feet. She grunted and Zaharian winced. Leaping from the second story was never as harmless as it looked. She was probably dealing with a sharp pain in her ankles and shins. Zaharian was a trained Imperial Agent, and well versed on safe landings.            First floor was bypassed, as security officers were frantically trying to scurry within the museum to look for the thieves that slipped from them. Flashlights flickered and searched with their great gaze for the chalice and its new owner. The alarms were growing more frantic and loud.            On the ground level, security droids were starting to deploy, the two thieves both turned to the direction of their new threat. The girl still had the chalice, but was now in tandem with Zaharian in the scurry to escape. They were matched for running speed. Red and blue lights flashing behind them.            At the same time, they saw a narrow cranny in between two crowded tenements. Zaharian was the first to enter, and grabbed the girl to pull her in. There was no way she was going to slip away from him. Holding her against the wall opposite from him by the arm, he twisted it behind her pressing the teen against the wall.            The droids passed them both by. Zaharaian breathed a sigh of relief as he started to search his pockets for anything that would restrain his new charge further.            “Miss, for interfering with-”            “Silfay hraka!” she spat.

Translation not found; Language unidentified. Zaharian’s comlink chirped in his ear. Zaharian balked.

“Wait, What do you mean not found? What did you say, kid?” Zaharian spat. The girl huffed, and then suddenly tossed the Chalice off to the side into the open street. Zaharian couldn’t help but make a dive. A gemstone bounced off the cup. It rolled into a storm drain. Nope, not reaching for that one.

Zaharian grabbed the cup and shouted triumphantly, before the red and blue flashes of light caused a sinking feeling in his stomach. A row of security droids beamed down on him. Their sights targeting him in a cluster of tiny, red dots.            Zaharian was starting to reach desperately for his pockets for his low-range EMF blasts. He activated the detonator, causing the droids to black out and power down.  He gave a sigh, before his torso was suddenly flattened to the ground as the girl leapfrogged over him. She ran some space ahead, and before Zaharian realized what was happening, the goblet suddenly drew to the rabbit.

“Force user! Oh stars, she’s trained? That does it!” Zaharian growled. He scurried to his feet, drawing out his pistol and firing a stun blast for the head. The girl squealed, and dived down covering her long ears. Damn, she’s fast. Probably that damn Force Instinct.

She avoided being stunned, but was at least not running. Zaharian tackled the hapless teen, pinning her back to the ground. He panted, holding her by the wrists, and straddling her stomach as he tried to catch his breath.              “You...are...oh stars...hang on...one sec...under...arrest…” He gasped as the fidgeting rabbit tried to squirm out. He had more strength on her. Thank goodness for the little things in life. Zaharian then noticed that the rabbit was making a strange gurgling sound. It was like a growl, and a purr. A wad of snotty spit hit him in the eye.

He screamed in disgust. He instinctively scrambled to wipe the glob from his face, feeling nauseated and angry at the same time. He felt felt a sharp pain in his hand. She was biting down in the fat part of his palm, and it hurt like a mother kriffer.

           He delivered a punch in her gut, knocking the wind out of her. It was done mostly out of instinct. Zaharian left himself wide open as the girl gasped like a fish on dry land. So when nails suddenly dug into the left side of his face, it was a reminder to be more careful about how he threw his punches.

           “You damn rabbit!” He shouted.

           “You are ass- HOLE” her accent was thick and it was clear that Basic was not her first language. What language was she speaking earlier?

           “I’m going to wash that mouth out with soap, young lady! After we learned who taught you those fancy Force powers!” He had pinned her hands down, taking care to avoid another potential glob of spit. What he had not expected, was the girl to suddenly thrust her hips upward, throwing him off balance, and his ears close enough to scream loudly into his ear piece.

He squealed this time. He pulled away but she kept screeching. It wasn’t until he started to reach for her mouth to force it close that the Rabbit stopped. Zaharian rolled off, grasping his ear to check it wasn’t bleeding. His head buzzed with pain.

Of course, the girl dashed off. Zaharian was slow to realize that he was still without the artifact he came for. The chase was on again. Neither of them got far. The streetway emptied into a sudden drop into a busy roadway with local vehicles dashing back and forth, up and down as organized birds. Water flowed under the ships, filled with trash and whoever was deemed appropriate to be dumped there. The girl stopped right at the edge, nearly dropping the chalice.

The teen turned behind her to see Zaharian charging after her, his pistol once again drawn and ready to fire, this time certain to hit her. The rabbit squealed. In a moment of desperation, she suddenly scrambled up a drainage pipe to scatter across a shop’s awning.

Zaharin almost made the mistake of falling into traffic. He wildly looked around, before the rabbit climbed out of sight like a raccoon. Zaharian wanted to call for reinforcements. He was getting desperate.

And then what? Explain that he was being outsmarted by a teenager? One that could barely speak Basic? She had a certain blank quality to her gaze. Did the Force compensate for intelligence? Not to mention that by the time the reinforcements arrived, the situation would have drastically changed, or they would simply shoot her down like a dog. Zaharian couldn’t live with that on his conscience.

He ran under the awnings, matching her speed. He kept his eyes open for gaps in the covering. He grinned as he saw the end of the coverings. He would prepare for her landing, and then nail his shot.   

But she never landed. Stars, could the Jedi fly now? No, she was no jedi. Sure she knew a trick. But this child lacked the discipline, skill, and ability of her properly trained peers. This spastic pipsqueak was probably being taught by someone on the downlow. Some old hermit or outlaw trying to keep the training to a minimum.

Zaharian blinked as he slowly approached the edge. He found a chair to stand on, and then peeked above it. Careful to avoid any more spit.

She was still there, now looking guilty. Zaharian started to scramble up and pointed the blaster at the girl. She didn’t move. Was she finally getting wise?

“There’s a lass. Now, you’re gonna come quietly with me, with that fancy cup. We’re going to have a nice evening chit chatting and by the end of all of this, you’re going to feel quite silly for all this running around.” Zaharian said. He set his blaster down to finish hoisting himself up.

It wasn’t until he stood that the girl suddenly stepped into an open window of the building.

“Come on!” He groaned loudly. This was getting tiring.  Zaharian quickly ran into the window. He leaped in without a second thought. He first noticed that he was in a pastel pink bathroom. Then he noticed that the door was closed.

He dashed for the door opening it wide. He heard a clatter behind him. He turned to see that the rabbit had managed to slip back out the window, knocking over a few toiletries.  Zaharian heard a scream, and realized that he now faced a living room full of sorority girls who saw him as a threat. Before he could explain himself, he was assaulted by a storm of pencils, dishes, and anything the girls could spare to throw.

“Just let me out!” he shouted. He pushed through the tempest of screams and fury. Finally reaching for another open window that lead to freedom. He wanted to scream in frustration. This entire situation had gotten out of control.

When he stepped out, the girl collided with him. Knocking them both off the awnings and back onto the ground. The Chalice bounced to the ground and started rolling away, jewels now scattering, the gold busted beyond repair.

It kept rolling this time. Both thieves gasped. The chalice headed towards the traffic, and the murky waters that flowed. They made another exhausted dash in unison.

“Oh no!” Zaharian pointed. The girl looked, but there was nothing there. Instead, she was shoved by the Imperial for her trouble.

“Two can play at your game, Rabbit!” he shouted. Zaharian didn’t expect the girl to grab him to stop her fall and cling to his arm. Another tumble, hands and knees getting scuffed. He felt a push, thrown back by an invisible hand. Which pushed the Chalice closer to the edge.

“You daft girl! You almost-” The chalice, which was rolling, now teetered just on the edge. Zaharian gulped. The wrong vibration or gust of wind would ruin everything. The girl’s eyes were like saucers. They now approached the goblet very slowly.

Zaharian readied his pistol, pointing it at the girl. His other hand reached out for the cup. The girl was also trying to carefully step to the prize. They stepped in tandem. Not daring to breathe. The ground rattled for a moment from a nearby freighter.

The cup miraculously stayed. They gave a concerted sigh of relief. A speeder bike then dashed by on the freeway. It carried with it a great wind that finally knocked the chalice off balance, and into the sewage tainted depths below.   

Zaharian let out a high pitched whimper. He fell to his knees and grasped the sides of his head. Tears stung his eyes. Finally, he cried out cursing and wailing. The girl sulked, her ears lowered and she gave a long drawn out sigh.

“I was so close! I had everything perfect. They’re gonna kick my ass when I get back.” Zaharian moaned. He sniffed. He then turned to the girl. He huffed. The girl looked taken back the attention. She stepped against a wall and some trash cans.

“I’m not going back without you.” Zaharian said. He was furious now. But the bright spot would be that with a force sensitive captive, he would have proof that the clusterkriff wasn’t his fault. At the very least, they could identify her species, her weird language, and who was training her.

“ Your cooperation is imperative at this point. It will determine exactly how you will be treated when I transfer you to my superiors.” Zaharian growled. The girl did not attempt to run. She was against the wall, between the trashcans. Zaharian grabbed her by the collar of her shirt.

“You are under arrest in the jurisdiction of Imperial Law. From this point on, you will be judged and tried for your actions. Anything spoken will be recorded for use in your prosecution. You wi-”

“What mean this word?” the girl asked. Her expression furrowed.  

“What?” Zaharian said.

“Pro-SEcoo-cien. Juurr-ree-sition”

“Jurisdictio-” There was a metallic sound suddenly in his head. His vision blacked out in his right eye and his right ear went deaf. He was knocked over by the rim of a garbage can lid. The tinny squeal of his hearing aid failing rang in his ears. He dizzily tried to get to his feet. Then another strike.

When he finally regained his senses, the girl was gone, the trashcan lid laying next to him. Zaharaian screamed in frustration. But it was finally time to face the fact that he had completely failed the mission.

[sw5w]

Passing Bounty Hunter

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:54:59

His action figure, while not completely film accurate, is super cool. (Photo from RebelScum)

We get a look at Rum Sleg's two blasters from his action figure, a BlasTech DH-23 "Outback" blaster pistol (left) and a Merr-Sonn Model 434 "Deathhammer" blaster pistol (right). (Thanks to Magna Tolvan for identifying these.) We don't get a very good look in the film, so I can't say for sure if those are the weapons he's got holstered on his hip but it's a distinct possibility.

[sw5w]

The Senator Remorsefully Walks Away

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:19

[sw5w]

Padmé Stands

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:00

[sw5w]

Milady, You're Still in Danger Here

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:54

[sw5w]

Typho Rushes to the Wreckage

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:37

[sw5w]

Typho and Amidala Unscathed

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:34

[sw5w]

Knocked Down by the Blast

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:24

[sw5w]

Typho and Amidala Brace for the Explosion

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:23

[sw5w]

Captain Typho Removes His Helmet

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:03:10

[sw5w]

Back Alleys of Mos Espa

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:55:02

[sw5w]

Captain Panaka Blows Out the Window

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:54:42