Urok Meheved did not lift his head when he heard the rattling of the doors to his chamber as they parted. A fist struck an armored body. A winded grunt was followed by a gruff command. âMove!âÂ
He listened while two sets of footsteps approached, his calloused thumb tracing the point of his blade, but he could not be shaken from his thoughts.
Why had he been forsaken in this way? Every effort heâd made to restore his honor had been devastated, his plans made futile. His daughter was a disgrace to him, yet she walked free. Heâd been so close, only for retribution to be denied him by some filthy outsiders â a pair of clones, nonetheless. It was beyond insulting.Â
It was, by his estimation, justification for war.Â
Henceforth, my people shall have enmity with your people. I shall never rest from hunting you down. Urokâs teeth ground together as hatred burned within him.Â
The footsteps stopped before him. And lingered, waiting.Â
âWhat?â He broke the silence at last, without looking.Â
âThis outsider filth requested an audience with you,â said the female voice of the Tribulation soldier.
âWho is he that I should care?âÂ
The stranger spoke, his voice distorted by a helmet with a vocal modulator into a guttural, ragged sound. âI am CX-2, a former operative in service to the Empire.âÂ
Urok glared at the floor as he processed this information. Thus far the Empire had not been interested in his home planet. A sense of foreboding and dread stirred.Â
âIf yourâŚEmpire wishes to occupy my territory, how does it intend to compensate us?â He growled, âHow much blood is it willing to expend?âÂ
âYou mistake my purpose. I am no longer a pawn of that regime. I am here of my own volition. My reasons are my own.âÂ
âWhich are?âÂ
âI have enemies. I believe they are shared by you.âÂ
The tip of the blade slipped. Urok stared as the pad of his thumb began to blossom pearls of blood. Hope spawned anew. He chuckled, at last lifting his gaze to scrutinize the stranger who stood at the foot of his throne.
The figure arraigned in armor was tall and slender, wiry muscles beneath the form-fitted attire. He carried himself with a deadly calm; silent and calculating. Â
Yes. Here is one who can be useful to me.Â
âAnd,â Urok said quietly, âif I set you upon them, what will you do? When you find them?âÂ
âMy quarrel is with the men who freed your daughter. If I find them, I will eliminate them. But I will bring your daughter to you, with whom you may deal as you see fit,â explained the operative.Â
The offer was too enticing to be true. Urok frowned, watching the blood trail down his thumb in contemplative stillness. Should this man fail him, Urok would attend to him as he had done to all others before him. The cost would be little. What had he to lose?
Everything.Â
âRemove your helmet. I wish to see your face,â he demanded.Â
The stranger before him hesitated only a moment. Then the willowy arms lifted and the helmet was dislodged from his head, revealing sunken cheeks and eyes ringed with scars. Rust-colored hair grew in a receding pattern along the top of his scalp, the sides shaved close. As the operative blinked, the cyber-optics in his eyes adjusted their pupils to the light in a glint of neon green. His sober expression was robotic, unchanging.
This man had killed before, and would do so again.Â
Urok gave a solemn nod. âDo as you have said. We shall see what comes of it.âÂ
CX-2 dipped his head with rigid deference. He said nothing, but turned on his heel and dismissed himself from Urokâs presence.Â
Watching the operative leave, Urok smeared his bloody thumb on the leg of his pants and stood, speaking to the lone Tribulation soldier who waited beside him. âTell the others to make ready. We shall not rest.â
âYes,â answered the helmeted soldier, her voice sinister, âFather.â
I loooove ATLA and TBB and you nailed Crosshair and Hunter! The outfits are awesome too! â¨đ¤Š
I had the same thought with that crossover and started with Earthbender Wrecker and left the poor man in the drafts!
Now as I saw your beautiful crossover art I decided to at least give him a doodle finish, so thank you for inspiring me!! đ¤ŠđŤś
My beautiful people, do you know ATLA? In cases you're interested, have a Wrecker, who absolutely deserves to have the power of Earth!
And look at the beautiful art of OP!
It was not the first question Hunter asked upon fully regaining consciousness, but it was easily among the first to enter his mind.Â
He lay in the horizontal tank as the bacta slowly receded around him. The rawness of his lash wounds had faded, and although the scars remained, the skin was freshly pink and soft. Before too long, there would be nothing left to show for Urokâs brutal hospitality.Â
His knee, on the other hand, was a different story. A surgical scar ran across its width like a zipper, the skin taut over the bionic replacement within. Echoâs medical connections had provided the needed cybernetics; the same people whoâd installed Crosshairâs prosthetic hand and the neuro-node that allowed him to control it.Â
Hunter propped himself upright on his elbows, examining the knee which he was still reluctant to bend, much less apply any weight to. Crutches had been his primary form of transportation these last two months. In all that time, his knee still ached, sometimes enough to keep him awake at night. Was such discomfort going to be his new normal going forward?Â
Crosshair was reclined against the wall of the bacta-therapy room, long legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest. He plucked the toothpick from his teeth and gestured with it over his shoulder.Â
âLong gone,â he replied, âShe stayed on Tevke.âÂ
The urge to ask if she was all right rose to the back of Hunterâs throat, only to be stifled by a frown as he realized he actually cared. He tried to remind himself that Fennec was a bounty hunter, the same one whoâd tried repeatedly to capture Omega. Â
Memories drifted, obscure and uncertain, like recalling a dream the day after awakening. Her face looking down at him; hands stroking through his hair; her arm around his body, supporting him as he walked â had he imagined all of that? Something told him it had been real. How else had he managed to survive? Bleeding, feverish, dying. Someone had to have been staying by his side all that time, keeping his temperature down, bringing him water, guarding their shelter.Â
Hunter pinched between his eyes and sighed. It was too much for his tired brain to parse through. Why had she come back for him? Why had she bothered to keep him alive? He swore under his breath.Â
I owe her my life.Â
The ridges of Crosshairâs face deepened into a scowl. In a voice of steel, he expressed a single word: âNo.âÂ
Hunter glanced up, immediately defensive. âShe saved my life back there. I canât just let that go. I owe her. Thatâs it.â
Even as he spoke, he was aware of the heat flushing his face and the sweat collecting on his brow. Without a doubt, his brother could see it.Â
Crosshair looked unconvinced, but did not press the matter further. Pushing off the wall, he reinserted the toothpick in his mouth and said, âThe healer told me to tell you that youâre one bacta session away from being âas good as youâre going to getâ.âÂ
âGood.â Hunter draped his legs over the edge of the bacta cot. These healing sessions took up too much time out of his day anyway. The only reason he really went was to pacify Omega, whoâd been doting on him since his return to Pabu.Â
Of course, she had not been allowed to come into the bacta room, for obvious reasons. But she had always been waiting for him when it was over. So he was surprised, after dressing and making his way out to the receiving room, to find that she wasnât there.Â
âSheâs down at the fishing docks,â Crosshair explained without needing to be asked. âShep and Lyana volunteered her to help out with preparations for whatever it is theyâre doing tonight.âÂ
âThe festival,â Hunter clarified. Heâd nearly forgotten; the annual harvest the islanders celebrated in the latter months of summer, when the air started to turn not quite so hot and the fronds on the trees began to yellow. âAccording to Shep, itâs an old tradition.âÂ
Crosshair grunted, pushing through the door into the glaring tropical sunlight. His gaunt face scrunched as he squinted and lowered the sunglasses over his eyes. âThese people will find any excuse to celebrate anything, including nothing.âÂ
âI wouldnât go either, except Omegaâs got her heart set on it.âÂ
âHmp.â Crosshair smirked. âShe got to you too?âÂ
The clack of crutches on pavement followed them along the winding street, past houses and shops all in a communal state of easy domestic bliss. People were hanging stringed paper lanterns and decorations for the harvest season. A few amicable greetings were exchanged in passing.Â
âWeâll just,â Hunter said, âtry to make the most of it. I canât say I mind it much, after Tevke. The people here might be a littleâŚout of touch, but theyâre better company than Urok Meheved.âÂ
âHunterâŚâ Crosshair stopped, his expression darkened by a look of self-loathing. The words he could not say were all in plain sight upon his face.Â
âIt was my own fault.â Hunter gripped a hand on his brotherâs shoulder. âI didnât check my math. If Tech had been thereâŚâ
Two pairs of eyes met, and both understood. There was nothing more to say. No man with a shred of pride would ever openly admit the words âyou were rightâ, but the silence seemed to scream it at full volume.
Crosshair gave a nod, and they continued together along the street.Â
~~â~~
âCongratulations.â
When Crosshair turned his attention away from the noise and the brightly-dressed crowd, he found Omega leaning against the wall beside him. She was mimicking his posture and disapproving scowl. He answered by way of a raised eyebrow.Â
âYouâre single-handedly bringing the mood down,â Omega elaborated, gesturing toward the colorful throng of islanders. âHow do you do it?â
Crosshair surveyed the festival, from the people dancing in a clearing designated for that exact purpose, to the vendors cheerfully selling their wares in the booths that lined the fishing docks. A reed flute played a rollicking solo, complimented by the wooden percussion section. In unison, the majority of dancers clapped and gave a shout.Â
He cast his sister a skeptical side-eye. If this was a Pabu Harvest Festival with the mood brought down, what was it like in full vigor?Â
âIâm honored,â he droned, plucking the wearied toothpick from his teeth before flicking it away.Â
âCrosshair,â Omega said, unusually solemn, âI never did apologize for the way I spoke to you before. When you came back with Hunter.â
âYou had a right to be angry,â Crosshair said dismissively.Â
âStill, I felt bad about it afterward. So Iâm sorry. And also, Iâm sorry it took so long to say it.âÂ
He gave a shrug. Since their return to Pabu, heâd been so preoccupied with taking care of Hunter, he hadnât given it much thought. âDonât worry about it.âÂ
âThenâŚâ A slyness infiltrated Omegaâs face, the way she looked whenever she played sabaac. âYouâll let me come with you next time?âÂ
And suffer like they had on Tevke? Not a chance. Crosshair turned to face her, his voice sharp. âHave you been keeping up with your training?âÂ
The girlâs face fell. âNot exactly the way you told me to, butâŚâÂ
âIf you want to go with us, you need to be able to practice drills in your sleep.âÂ
A third voice inserted itself: âSeems a bit intense.âÂ
Crosshair bristled. âDid I ask?âÂ
Phee Genoa smiled with a light shrug, turning her attention to Omega. âTheyâre dancing the Reel next, kid. Thought youâd like to know.âÂ
Omegaâs demeanor transformed from dejection into excitement. âI nearly forgot! I have to find Wrecker! Thanks, Phee!âÂ
The Reel was Omegaâs favorite. From the sidelines, Crosshair watched the dancers assemble into two parallel rows, facing each other. As the music began, the rows alternated, passing each other on the right, looping around, passing on the left.Â
Despite how amusing it was to watch Wrecker attempting to be light on his feet, Crosshair quickly found himself bored. Out of the corners of his eyes, he was aware that Phee had not left his side.Â
âRanyaâs back,â said the pirate.Â
âDidnât know she was gone.âÂ
âSheâs been trying to forge her fatherâs name to get that bounty off her head.âÂ
âHm.â A fresh toothpick clicked between his teeth.Â
Pheeâs next words startled him. âShe said she wanted to talk to you.âÂ
What could the rogue pirate possibly need to discuss with him? The job was done, wasnât it? Urok was dead. The bounty had been removed. Case closed.Â
âDid she happen to say why?â He asked, cringing as Wrecker tripped and knocked someone elseâs partner off their feet.Â
âJust that you were the only person who would understand.â The pirateâs face scrunched. âWhatever that means.âÂ
Ah. Whatever it was, Crosshair surmised, it had to do with the eldest sister Ranya had killed. Best get this over with. With an impatient sigh, he asked, âSheâs here?â
âDonât know where she is,â Phee said, taking a sip of the vibrant purple island wine. âLast I saw her, she was down at the cavern.â
He wasnât about to walk all the way over there. These civilian leather shoes pinched his feet; he hadnât been able to find ones that fit. How Wrecker had managed to do so was not a question heâd bothered to have answered. It didnât matter. He preferred his armor anyway.Â
In a swell of applause, the music reached a conclusion, punctuated by a stab of the flute. The dancers clapped to one another before dispersing.Â
Omegaâs ponytail lashed as she squirmed through the sea of arms and legs, her face flushed from exertion. âAll right. Your turn!â
Over my dead body.Â
âHa,â Crosshair said, deadpan.
âNo excuses.â She grasped his hand, trying to lead him. âEveryone says youâre stuck-up. Letâs prove them wrong.âÂ
âBut theyâre not wrong,â he muttered, knowing it was futile because he was begrudgingly allowing her to pull him along behind her.Â
âStand here.â Omega pointed at the ground.Â
Crosshair found himself standing in one of the rows the dancers had been in before. Directly across from him, Omega positioned herself. He shook his head in a silent plea.Â
âI donât dance,â he insisted.Â
âItâs easy!â She glanced aside, someone catching her eye. âRanya knows the Reel! Sheâs the one who taught me. Ranya!âÂ
The kid waved her over.Â
Crosshair glanced in the same direction, realizing with a jolt what was happening. Dancing with his kid sister to humor her was one thing. Being set up with an almost complete stranger was something else entirely.Â
The pirate approached through the crowd. The long sleeves of her tunic draped like white wings. She looked different somehow. Crosshair squinted, trying to figure out why.Â
Itâs because her hair is up, he told himself, Itâs the bags under her eyes. She looks tired.Â
âOmegaâŚâ Ranya dipped her head in greeting, matching glances with Crosshair in which nothing was expressed; she was a blank wall. âGood to see you again.â
âYou need a partner for the Reel, right?â Omega said stealthily, hands clasped behind her back. âI found one.âÂ
Another glance was exchanged, interlocking on contact and becoming inextricably tangled. Crosshair felt himself redden. Ranyaâs eyes widened. Two people became united by a common horror of awkwardness and the need to extricate themselves from it.Â
A flute cut the air above their heads like a giant pair of scissors.Â
âItâs starting!â Omega shooed the two of them into their respective rows.
âOmegaâŚâ Crosshair tried to catch her eye so that maybe she would see his undisguised panic and extend mercy.
But the kid was devoured by the crowd, with one final piece of advice thrown over her shoulder. âRanya can show you how! Just follow her lead!âÂ
Crosshair caught Ranyaâs eye and shook his head as the people on either side of them swept together with the first movement of the dance. He and the pirate stood out like two wooden statues, lighthouses in a swirling sea.Â
âI had nothing to do with this,â he grumbled, embarrassed, sweating under her scrutiny.Â
âI believe you.âÂ
They remained adjacent one another, motionless. Their face-to-face silence was made all the more conspicuous by the six foot gap between them, and the music which flowed and twisted around them both like a thread.Â
Crosshair inclined his head toward the docks. âDo youâŚwant to get out of here?â
The pirateâs answer was a nod.Â
He didnât wait for her, knowing somehow that if he simply turned and stalked off, she would follow.Â
She did.Â
The silken layers of her tunic lapsed behind her. The fabric was caught by the night wind to coil around his leg before being snatched free again in a moment. How long they walked without speaking, he didnât know. Any time at all felt like too long of a stretch. One of them ought to say something, but conversation had never been his forte and the pirate was volunteering nothing.Â
Crosshair noticed the vendorâs booths as they scrolled past, selling anything from arcade games to ice cones â nothing he had any interest in.Â
Impatience pricked him into making the first move. âPheeâŚmentioned you wanted to talk?âÂ
Her silence continued until the moment when his head snapped in her direction with an exasperated scowl.Â
âYes,â Ranya blurted, sounding as though she was drowning and that one word was a gasp for air before the darkness pulled her down again.Â
They had reached the end of the pier now, where they would need to turn around and go back. But Ranya stopped and seemed intent to remain, so Crosshair waited, his arms folded stiffly. At least it was quieter here, away from the live band and the thickest of the crowds.Â
âWellâŚ?â He prodded.Â
âIâve been thinking about what you said, about learning to forgive myself? You seem like youâd know something about that.âÂ
Oh, we donât go there. Crosshair kept his face expressionless, his walls going up immediately to protect the raw wounds within. He said nothing, hoping there was enough foreboding in his silence that the pirate would take a hint and not pursue this any further.Â
But she asked, âSoâŚhow did you do it?âÂ
The breeze swelled from the ocean, warm and tasting of salt, sweeping past the two of them in a wave.
Iâm not your therapist. Crosshair went on lockdown. His voice was harsh â a blatant warning signal for her to stop. âYouâre assuming Iâve managed to figure that out.âÂ
The pirateâs shoulders fell in a gradual deflation, as she finally seemed to realize she wasnât going to get any help from him. âDoes it ever get easier?âÂ
Crosshair rolled his eyes. âIâll be the first to let you know if it does.âÂ
âRightâŚâ Ranya nodded, backing away like a child thatâs just been bitten on the hand. âThanks.âÂ
Thanks for nothing, was what it sounded like.Â
Crosshair watched her walk away. The white wings of her sleeves floated on the air. Why come to him for help? When there was Phee? When there was Alarah? Her own people? As she had even stated herself before, they were practically strangers. He barely knew her.Â
So because they had one thing in common, she thought that gave her a right to just approach him for advice? Just because they both had skeletons in their closets, didnât mean those skeletons had to mingle.          Â
Crosshair remained standing like a gargoyle at the farthest edge of the pier. He decided to stay put for a while, hoping he would not encounter anyone else seeking his wisdom for the rest of the night. He stayed until the toothpick had become soft from overuse, and the dew of the night had begun to creep into his bones. Drowsiness weighed on his eyelids as he rose from dangling his legs over the pierâs edge, and began his reluctant sojourn back to the festival center.Â
Right away, he knew the atmosphere had shifted. The parents and children from earlier had retired to make way for the nighttime crowd. The music was jauntier, more raucous in nature.Â
Omega was nowhere to be seen. Knowing Hunter, heâd already made sure to get her home before midnight. But Wreckerâs towering figure was not hard to find.Â
Crosshair flagged him down. âHunter and Omega left?âÂ
âYeah, a while ago. Iâm gonna head out too. My feet hurt!â Wrecker grinned. âYou comin? Or are you gonna stay?âÂ
Shaking his head, Crosshair muttered, âIâve been here too long already.âÂ
âHa! I hear ya! Iâm surprised you stuck it out this long.âÂ
Torches led the way along the cobbled path winding away from the fishing docks. Yellow and orange themed banners fluttered on the night air, reminding him of Ranyaâs sleeves. She hadnât left his mind. Something about their conversation from earlier was not leaving him alone. Perhaps it was the way heâd handled it. Or maybe it was the fact that sheâd sought him out, of all people. No one ever did that. Not even Omega.Â
One broken person could not expect help from another broken person.Â
Or could they?Â
Crosshair caught a flicker of white in the corner of his eye, like the flash of a hawkâs wing.Â
âHey, youâre not lookinâ so good.â Wreckerâs verbal assessment of Ranya Vrie was accurate. Slumped against the stone wall beside the path, a lazy simper upon her face, the pirate fixed unsteady eyes upon Crosshair and gave a chuckle of recognition. A glass teetering between her fingers still contained a drop or two of vivid purple that sloshed around when she moved.Â
âYouâre not exactly easy on the eyes yourself, big guy.â Her words slurred like syrup.Â
âIs Phee around?â Crosshair asked, looking back down the street toward the festival and seeing no one he recognized.
âNah...â Strands of Ranyaâs hair swung freely as she shook her head. âPheeâŚwent home. Left me all alone. Can you believe thatâŚ?âÂ
Wrecker inclined down to murmur, âI donât think sheâs actinâ normal.âÂ
No, she was not. Crosshair didnât have to wonder why. The glass in Ranyaâs hand was a good enough indicator. He wondered how many sheâd had tonight.Â
âGo on ahead,â he told Wrecker, âIâll handle it.âÂ
This might be a while.Â
When Wrecker had continued on without him, Crosshair turned to study the drunken pirate. He did not approach her, but stayed outside of her reach, trying to work out in his mind how best to deal with this. He didnât like the idea of leaving her to walk home by herself. Pabu was a decent community, but every place had its criminal element, and this island was no different.Â
âItâs getting late,â he said.Â
Ranya turned her back on him as if she had not heard him speak. Perhaps, in her state, she had not. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, staring out into the black abyss across the ocean, as if it was the chasm into which her father had vanished.Â
âIâve made mistakes,â she mumbled.Â
Those words sounded familiar. Too familiar. Crosshair realized heâd said them himself before, many times, about things he'd done that had been morally questionable. But the pirate wasnât making this admission sober. In fact, he wondered if tonight might have been the first time sheâd ever drank anything spirited, as she was having a difficult time standing upright.
Ranya leaned against the stone wall, squeezing her eyes shut so tightly a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows.Â
Crosshair remained where he stood and folded his arms. If the poor idiot hadnât known how Pabuâs rich wine was going to affect her, why had she consumed so much of it?
âIt was an accident,â he replied, wondering why he was persisting with a conversation she likely wouldnât even remember tomorrow, âIt wasnât as if you meant to.â
She swayed, squinting at him. She might have been trying to figure out which of the three identical figures she was seeing was the real one. âI was angry. I went psychoâŚThereâs no excuseâŚMurder is murder.â
Aside from his brow creasing, Crosshair didn't allow any emotion to show on his face. Didnât he have enough of his own problems without being burdened with hers?
âThen stop dwelling on it. Itâs not like you can do anything about it now,â he said.Â
Ranya looked at him with what he could only assume was contempt, unless she was just grimacing from an oncoming headache. She shook her head in dismissal. Apparently, the motion from doing so had its repercussions, because she pitched toward the wall and retched.
Before he had time to think about what he was doing, Crosshair found himself standing behind her, collecting her hair into his hands, drawing it back from her face. It hadnât been a conscious decision. He wasn't entirely sure what had driven him to do something so compassionate. He told himself it was bad enough having to escort home a drunk pirate, without also having her reek of vomit.
Ranya glared over her shoulder at him, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth.Â
âOh, you care now? I must really be wasted.â Her words slipped and slurred together.Â
Crosshair sighed, but his own callousness was starting to fade. Although he tried not to, he saw himself in her place. How many nights had he spent suffering from the consequences of his own decisions?Â
âYou're drunk. You need to go homeâ, he said, the words coming out much softer than he'd intended.Â
Like a ragdoll, she sagged against his shoulder.Â
His arms remained stick-straight at his sides. After some reluctance, he helped her stand upright, and she wavered unsteadily.Â
âI canât go home,â she mumbled.
He pretended not to feel the pang in his chest. If anyone understood what that felt like, it was him.Â
âCome on...â Grudgingly, he wrapped an arm around her, draping one of hers across his shoulders. He was grateful her house wasn't far, as they began the painfully slow trip back. Several times, Ranya tripped and might have fallen headlong if he hadn't caught her. A few more instances of this, and he decided it would ultimately be easier to just carry her.
When he scooped her up, she barely acknowledged it. If anything, she seemed to go limp with relief, her head falling against his neck. He tensed at the contact, at how unfamiliar it felt, at how it might have looked to any passersby. But there was no one walking the streets of Pabu this late at night. Everyone who was still awake was down at the festival.Â
Just up the hill, the house was nestled between the clay and brick walls of its neighbors. He had to use his knee to open the gate into the courtyard. The terracotta pavers were uneven, but he took his steps carefully to the front door. There, he set Ranya onto her own two feet, but she still leaned on him for support. Her voice droned in his ear without forming any words as he tapped the key code to unlock the door.
It was dark inside â of course it was. The only person who lived here had been out on the town all night. He led her through the open threshold into a meager living room. At any rate, it had a couch. Crosshair had no intentions of hauling the pirate up a flight of stairs, especially not to her bedroom. The couch was as good a place as any for her to sleep it off.
âAll right...â He said, tripping over her foot. He guided her into line with the couch and sat her down. âGo to sleep.âÂ
Without a word, Ranya curled up lengthways of the couch, apparently oblivious to her boots still on her feet and the leather utility belt at her waist.Â
âThanks,â she murmured into her folded arm, tucked under her head in lieu of a pillow.
Time to leave. Crosshair did a cursory sweep of the room to make sure he wasn't overlooking anything. But he doubted the pirate would need much until she woke up, and then she would be sober enough to get it for herself, albeit nursing a massive hangover. He took another glance in her direction, his gaze lingering for a moment as he noticed how her face seemed to have changed.Â
Resting, half asleep, she seemed younger. A wisp of hair had fallen across her nose, and he found himself contemplating whether he should brush it out of her face. The ridiculous idea sent his mind reeling. Why would he ever do a thing like that?Â
âCrosshair,â he corrected, despite knowing she would remember none of this.
Ranya chuckled. âWhat a weird name.â
âMm-hm.â Crosshair hit the control panel for the door and stepped out into the courtyard. He made sure to lock up after himself, though it took him a second to remember to do so. He gave up trying to process anything that had just happened, dismissing it all with a shake of his head.
Omega glanced around from the window to find the djarik board sitting where sheâd left it. One of Wreckerâs pieces had moved; it sat in a compromised spot where any three of her own pieces could easily take it out. But her heart wasnât in the game.Â
Oblivious as he might have been to the fact that he was about to lose the game, Wrecker seemed to be fully aware that something was wrong with Omega. âYou gotta stop worryinâ, kid.âÂ
She gave in with an anxious sigh. âThey should have been back by now.âÂ
âIt ainât been that long.âÂ
Omega frowned, staring out the window. The sense of foreboding sheâd felt before the mission had only worsened since then. Something had gone wrong. It wasnât as simple as childish worry. It was a fact. She knew it.Â
When the distant propulsion engines first reached her ears, she thought it was her imagination, the way it had been the last several times she thought sheâd heard their ship returning. But this time, instead of misinterpreted ocean waves or the central air system turning on, the sound only increased in clarity. It was getting louder. Closer.Â
Omega sat upright, looking at Wrecker to see if he was hearing it as well. His eyes widened. They both hurtled from the table at the same time.Â
The Providence howled past the island as it made its first initial pass before beginning the landing sequence. During that time, Omega ran along the winding streets leading to the colonnade. With her small stature, she easily outpaced Wrecker, leaving him behind to catch up. Batcher loped at her side, the hound seeming to understand where they were going and why the urgency.Â
By the time she arrived at the summit, the elongated ship was already settled onto its landing struts. The Providence seemed to sag under the weariness of a long journey. Jets of hydraulic exhaust plumed from beneath the hull in spurts and sighs.
Omega did not slow down even as the ramp descended. She climbed the steps until, breathless and windswept, she came to a sudden halt only because Crosshair now stood in her way.Â
At the top of the ramp, one arm folded around a waist that was wrapped in bandages, fresh bruises still vivid upon his face, Crosshair held up a hand. âWait, before you go in thereâŚâ
âWhere is Hunter?â Omega blurted, physically shaking with dread at the answer she feared most.
âOmegaâŚâ
She pushed past him, into the ship. Hunter had to be here. He would answer when she called for him. He always did. The fact that he wasnât appearing filled Omega with terror.Â
Something told her she would not find him on the bridge. If what she suspected was really true, there was only one place he could be.Â
Phee tried to reach out to stop her, but Omega squirmed away and pushed through the open door to the bunk room.
Her heart plunged into her stomach at the multiple horrors that flashed before her eyes: starchy white bandages tainted red and brown; bare skin cut and raw; eyes that were closed and did not open when she screamed his name.Â
Omega threw herself at his side, clinging to the cot. She barely noticed the woman tending to his wounds, someone sheâd never met before and, at the moment, could not be bothered about.Â
âOmega!â Crosshair slipped into the doorway, past Phee and Ranya.Â
The anger in her voice was sharp; she couldnât help it. âI told you this would happen! Why didnât you listen to me?â
Even as she said it, even as she watched Crosshair bow his head with unmasked exhaustion, Omega felt the guilt of her anger like an instantaneous spark. But it dimmed in comparison to her fear for Hunter.Â
âHeâs burning up.â She touched his forehead, smoothing back his oily hair and realizing his bandana was gone. That explained why he hadnât looked quite right at first. As if the awful wounds he bore werenât altering enough.Â
âIâve given him something for the fever,â the russet, curly-haired woman said, and Omega saw her face for the first time.Â
âYouâreâŚRanyaâs sister.â Despite her upset, Omega knew her discernment was correct.
âAnd youâre theirs.â The girl nodded to Hunter and Crosshair. âIâm sorry weâre not meeting under better circumstances.â
It was the feeble sliver of a sound which caught Omegaâs attention and made her head turn back to Hunter. The pale, split lips moved, forming dull shapes that might have been words.Â
âHunter!â She squeezed his hand to let him know she was there, unsure whether the narrow slits of his eyes could see her.Â
His feverish gaze was like glass, drifting weakly about him. âOmegaâŚ?â
âItâs me. Iâm here.â She paid no mind to her tears, warm and fresh, spilling freely. âIâm so sorry, Hunter!â
His hand slipped from hers to rise, trembling, to stroke her hair. A smile strained across his face, a smile of victory, of relief, of completion.Â
âItâsâŚâ he whispered, breathing out the assurance as a sigh, ââŚgonna be okay.â
A sob burst from her chest. She folded her arms around him, never minding the blood, the ointment for his wounds, the unwashed smell of sweat and dirt. She hid her face in his neck.
âI never shouldâve let them go!âÂ
âOmega,â Crosshair spoke, venturing into the room, âthere wasnât anything you couldâve done.âÂ
She knew he was right, but she did not want to hear it. When Crosshairâs hand made a timid effort to rest upon her shoulder, she repulsed it with a shrug. The guilt didnât come until much later, after his footsteps had gone away.Â
~~â~~
Urok lay in darkness. The cold rings of death encircled his mortal form, but it had not yet snatched him down into its embrace.Â
His leg was broken; he was certain of it. The hand which had been shot clean through pulsated with a dull throbbing of disturbed bones and scorched flesh. He was broken in other places as well, though he could not tell where specifically. Pain fed off his body like so many ants, consuming his mind until he thought he might go mad.
If only he couldâve struck his head, or perhaps broken his neck, and died instantly. It wouldâve been preferable to this slow death, this torture. No one would find him. He did not expect it, nor hold out hope for it.Â
Life, he thought, was not without a sense of cruel irony. He thought about the clone heâd left for dead near the shrâe nests. That man was surely deceased by now, his body picked clean by the hawks. And Urok would soon become like him, here in this place of desolation.Â
We all give an account for the evil we do under the sun, his father used to say.
It was true. Urok had earned this.Â
Worse than the pain in his physical body was the betrayal of his daughter, though he didnât know why it should have hurt him. Anaranya had been an enemy to him long before this. She had proven herself to be as cunning and resourceful as the bird which was her namesake.Â
And what of Alarah? The littlest one had gone the wayward path of her sister. Neither of them could be considered his children anymore. In silence, he disowned them both, squeezing his eyes shut against the moisture that gathered there.Â
There was only one daughter left to carry his honor. But her mind was not the same. She was not the person heâd once known, in the early days, before the tragedy. That girl had been stolen from him. The damage was irreversible. But a deranged daughter who swore devotion to him was better than two who defied his name. He could only hope that she had been one of the few members of his cohort who had survived the onslaught. There had been a small number whoâd retreated to safety at his command. She had been among them.Â
Where was she now?Â
Urok did not worry. What did it matter, now that he was going to die here?Â
A clatter of stones echoed from above, the glow of a torch flickering like an orange wraith in the dark as it descended toward him. As the torch neared, Urok found himself chuckling. Perhaps all was not lost after all.Â
His rescuer wore the dark armor of the Tribulation, serrated sleeves outlined in torchlight like the scales of a dragon. The amber visor of the soldierâs helmet turned in his direction.Â
âYou survived,â the ragged female voice spoke. She approached him, kneeling at his side. âI am a coward. I should have never run away.âÂ
Urok reached out his hand for her to take â the one still intact. âYou did well.âÂ
âLet me help you.â The soldier was strong, despite her narrow stature, helping him to sit up, to stand, to take his first painful steps across the chasm floor.Â
âWe have to find them.â The soldierâs voice was laced with hate. âI will make them suffer for what they have done to you.â
Urok grunted, failing to suppress a wince. âRecover first. BuildâŚour strength. ThenâŚâÂ
As the rappel cable, fastened under his arms, lifted him out of the chasm, Urok let the cool air passing by his face sweep him into awareness. It awakened him. The pain, the cold, the exhilaration; he could feel it again.Â
He would recover. He would bring back his wayward daughter, even if he had to carve the galaxy apart. This time, he would feel no regret. He would not accept any alternatives. He would not hesitate. The clones would not be enough to protect her; he would slaughter anyone who stood in his way. There would be justice. There would be peace.
The deadline for Part Two of the Trial by Fire trilogy has moved to July 2026!
Originally, the deadline was set for sometime in November (trying to allow myself a margin for setbacks) But at this point, the first draft is complete and Iâve begun the editing process as of today!
For anyone whoâs new to the TBF series, this fic will be the sequel to this story.
âAt least for now, until the heat dies down,â Ranya insisted, staring imploringly at her sister.Â
Alarah stood in the patch of daylight before the ramp which descended from the ship. Beyond the ramp, the sounds of a busy evening in the capitol drifted in; voices competing in the marketplace; speeders howling through the hov-lanes above the city streets.Â
âIf Father is truly dead, as you say, there is nothing left to threaten me.â
âThatâs not true,â Ranya said, her throat tightening in desperation. âThere are still plenty of Tribulation followers, and thereâs no telling what theyâll decide to do once they learn Urok is gone. If they find out you had a hand in itâŚâ She reached out, holding her sisterâs shoulders, leaning to meet her eyes. âI just want you to be safe.â
It wasnât just the surviving Trib left to worry about either. There were the other smaller Tevkish syndicates to consider as well. What would they do now that Urok was dead? Would they try to force Alarah to replace him?Â
They might. The custom wasnât unheard of. The thought of her gentle, delicate sister trying to fill the shoes of a ruthless crimelord made her stomach turn.Â
âCome with us to Pabu,â Ranya whispered, âeven if itâs just for a while, and then you can come back here. Though why youâd want to, I canât imagine.âÂ
Alarah looked up with conviction. âTevke is my home.âÂ
A pang of grief made Ranyaâs heart ache. She understood where her sister was coming from. This was where their earliest memories had been made. From this dust, their childhoods had taken form. They belonged to this planet as the dust belonged to the desert.Â
âItâs your home too,â Alarah murmured, ducking her shoulders from under Ranyaâs hands. She walked away, to the shipâs infirmary.Â
Ranya wasnât sure whether to sigh with relief that her sister seemed to be choosing to stay on the ship, or to sink to her knees in the face of a fact she had all but forgotten. No matter how far she ran from it, this place would always be a part of her.
Someone was watching her; she felt their gaze trying to measure her up, to read her as if she were an ancient scroll. When she turned, Ranya found the bounty hunter.Â
Leaning against the wall, arms folded, Fennec looked healthier than when she had first boarded. The redness had faded from her cheeks, and a moisturizer stood out in a sheen on her chapped lips.Â
The bounty hunter tipped her head up in acknowledgment. âA word of advice? Have somebody withdraw that price on your head in your fatherâs name. The next bounty hunter that comes for you might not bother bringing you in alive.âÂ
Ranya folded her arms.
A brittle silence flickered between the two of them.Â
Fennec inclined toward the doorway and started to see herself out, but she paused with one foot on the ramp and glanced back. âWhen he wakes upâŚâÂ
In surprise, Ranya realized who the bounty hunter was referring to. Her head turned in the direction of the infirmary midship, where Hunter was being cared for by Crosshair and MEL-2222. Was there some connection between Hunter and this woman?Â
But Fennec didnât finish her statement. Whatever she might have said became a mystery as she departed without another word. The credits rattled in the case with every step of her feet on the ramp. She would likely end up spending some of it on new gear to replace that which sheâd lost.Â
Ranya watched until the long dark braid was nowhere to be seen, and she prayed to never set eyes on Fennec Shand again. It should have given her a sense of peace, but for reasons she could not explain, she felt as though the quiet answer whispered back: no.Â
Escaping from her own thoughts, she wandered to find Phee at the helm, prepping the ship for the return jump to Pabu.Â
âShe gone yet?â Phee propped an arm on the headrest of the pilotâs seat.Â
âYeah.âÂ
âGood riddance!âÂ
Settling into the crook of the co-pilotâs chair with her boots on the dash, Ranya ventured, âDoes sheâŚhave a history with Hunter or something?âÂ
Phee grunted as she busied herself with plotting their course on the nav-computer. âFrom what Iâve been told, Fennec tried to kidnap Omega a couple times. And Hunterâs worked for her on a job once.âÂ
This assortment of information left Ranya more confused than before.Â
Phee shrugged. âWeâre not likely to see her again.âÂ
Ranya stared out of the view-screen at the violet sky. The sun was going down, spelling another night to fall upon Tevke; the first night her father would not see. Tears sprang into her eyes against her own volition. She bit down on her own lip, squeezing her eyes shut to make them stop.
I never wanted it to come to this.
Vaguely, she heard the ramp retract as Phee prepared the final initiation for lift-off. As the Providence began its ascent out of the landing port, the capitol city spread out below like a map.
Ranya felt her heart seize in her chest. She was leaving, possibly for the last time. A part of her thought maybe she should stay on the bridge, to capture one final glimpse of her homeworld before leaving it behind. But instead, she turned her back.Â
âIâm going to check on Hunter.âÂ
âYou good?âÂ
âYeah,â she lied, âIâm fine.âÂ
Everything should have been fine. All of her problems were solved. She was essentially free now. But what was freedom at such a cost?Â
My father is dead.Â
~~â~~
Where to even begin? Crosshair skimmed from the exploded remains of Hunterâs knee to the puckered red slashes scored across his brotherâs torso. It was overwhelming. Anger billowed up and just as quickly melted away in the futility of his situation. No matter how much he wanted to, Crosshair could not resurrect Urok Meheved to kill him again. There was nowhere for his wrath to go, so it starved and died and gave way to helplessness.Â
âGet a tourniquet on that leg,â he told himself, rummaging through the cabinets for a medkit.Â
âIâve got it here,â Alarah spoke.Â
Heâd almost forgotten she was there.Â
âDo you know what youâre doing?â He slumped against the wall as a wave of dizziness caught him sideways. The stitches in his flesh protested the abrupt movement, and he winced, cradling an arm around his waist.Â
âIâve seen worse than this,â the girl explained without bravado. âLeave it to me. You should be resting. Thereâs an iron-boosting tincture I can whip up for you when Iâm done here. Or get Ranya to do it. She knows howâŚI think.âÂ
âNo. Tell me what I can do.â
âWellâŚâ Alarah said with a disapproving frown, âYou can put bacta to his lash wounds. But donât try to turn him over yet. Weâll just have to attend to his back later.â
As he turned to dig through the open medkit, the ship banked hard to the starboard side. Except, it didnât. Everything in the rack-room remained perfectly upright and stationary. It was Crosshair himself who had pitched forward in an onset of dizziness.Â
He pressed a hand to his forehead, trying to shake off the vertigo as he began to apply the bacta swab to Hunterâs wounds. His movements were robotic, all his consciousness pinpointed on this one task. Sounds around him were as underwater, meaning nothing.Â
Someone else entered the infirmary; he was aware of their presence without acknowledgment.Â
âHey, did you hear me?â A hand on his arm. Like creating ripples on the surface of still water, the touch awakened him from the fog.
With a grimace, he turned to find Ranya, cognizant only of the concern pinching her features and the fact that he was annoyed by it.Â
âI can do that. You need to lie down,â she urged.Â
He shrugged her hand off, but the action made his stitches flex enough to take his breath away, enough to make him pause what he was doing. Sweat prickled upon his upper lip.Â
âLet me help you,â Ranya said.Â
Crosshair moved out of reach, blinking hard to clear the blur from his vision. The words sighed from his chest in broken, stubborn syllables. âI donât needâŚhelpâŚfrom you.â     Â
The ship banked again, this time port-side. Only, as before, the motion had been nothing more than his own unreliable body. As he tipped forward, eyes rolling back under his eyelids, he heard Ranyaâs voice cry out.Â
âHey, whoa!â
His chin clacked against her shoulder in a blast of white pain, setting off a dull ringing in his ears which did not stop for hours.Â
At some point, the ringing transformed into a static humming sound. Vaguely familiar. It had a negative connotation somehow. At first, Crosshair could not place it.Â
A stark, pale glow leered down from a long rectangular light fixture in the ceiling above. The steady rhythm of a heart monitor beeped along to his own pulse, which he could feel like an iron pickaxe in his temples. He was aware of his back against the hard surface of the table beneath him, his skin bare to the cold. The constraining belts chafed against his wrists, his chest, his forehead.Â
He couldnât move.Â
Panic consumed his mind. Animal instinct took over in a desperate and violent need to escape.
How am I back on Tantiss?Â
No, no! How could this happen?Â
âCrosshair, stay calm,â said a voice not quite like Emerie. In fact, not at all. But he was too frightened to care.Â
Crosshair lunged upright, breaking through his restraints with such ease that the small detail snapped him awake. There was a droid lurking at his side. He struck it full-force.Â
MEL-2222 grunted as the top-heavy droid was sent barreling sideways, legs pumping helplessly.Â
âEasy, easy! CalmâŚâ Ranya reached out to him with placating hands. âBreathe. Youâre fine.âÂ
Short, winded gasps still had control of him as he held up his wrists and processed the fact that there were no restraints to be found, and never had been. With overwhelming relief, he realized where he was. Reality came crashing back to soothe his burning mind.Â
He sighed, his voice dry and husky as he demanded, âHunterâŚis heâŚ?â
Ranya stood the droid back on its feet. âAlarah says his vitals have improved. But he still has a fever.â She flicked her eyes over him, hesitating to ask, âWhat was that? A nightmare?â
Crosshair shook his head, immediately slamming the door on her curiosity. He avoided the question entirely. âAnd the bounty hunter?âÂ
âGone.â Ranya cast a glance at the door and, supposedly, the exit through which Fennec had disappeared a long time ago. There was a note of disappointment on her face when she turned back to him; she seemed to be thinking about the way he had reacted upon first awakening. But there was no way Crosshair was about to go into all of that.Â
Thankfully, she pried no further.Â
That was one thing he could say for this pirate. Unlike Phee, who routinely enjoyed pushing peopleâs buttons and did it for kicks, Ranya seemed to understand what it was like to have things she simply could not -or would not- talk about.Â
Takes one to know one. Crosshair wasnât aware of the wry smirk on his face, nor the slight grunt of appreciation heâd made, until Ranya responded to it.Â
âWhat?â She asked.Â
He started to answer and found there was no way he possibly could. The pain on her face caught him off guard, as finding oneself looking into a mirror often does. The emotions he knew like old friends were reflected in the pirateâs eyes: sorrow, grief, self-loathing. All present and accounted for.Â
So we have that much in common. Whoopee.Â
A caring person might have asked her if she was okay. Crosshair did not consider himself a caring person, so he did not ask. Not in so many words.Â
âItâs done.â Heâd meant it to sound reassuring. Why had it come out with a question mark?Â
Ranya nodded, arms caging around herself. âYeah.â
She took too long to answer, forcing another nod that fell short of convincing. The same could be said for her cardboard smile. âThanks to you.â
Her gratitude rested like a crooked halo upon his head. Crosshair shrugged it away with a scoff. âYouâre not still blaming yourself, are you?âÂ
His question had the effect of a meat-hook, burying into her chest where it hurt most and pulling out all the nasty things she didnât want to face.
Ranya blanched, her eyes widening.Â
Crosshair wasn't sure he liked seeing her this way. He tended to avoid people when they were vulnerable, but he couldn't exactly go anywhere. Instead he clenched his jaw and braced himself until he was sitting up with his back to the wall.
He shouldnât have asked. After the respect sheâd given him, heâd just gone and awakened her own personal demons.Â
âYou're going to say we're similar, right?â Ranya murmured coldly, âBecause I did this thing, and you willingly murdered innocent people for the Empire. But we are not the same.âÂ
Oh, she knew about that?Â
Of course she did. Phee talks.Â
Crosshair grimaced before he could mask it in time. âAll I'm saying is I understand.âÂ
âBut your brothers survived. They're all still alive to forgive you, aren't they?âÂ
The silence strung like a line between them, an unspoken acknowledgment connecting them together. Neither of them would say his name. But they were thinking it.Â
Tech.Â
He closed his eyes against a surge of pain and regret. Heâd never get to tell his brother that he was sorry. Truly sorry. Before emotion could pinprick his eyes and swell into his throat, he moved on.Â
âYouâre not irredeemable. Neither am I. Youâre just trying to...â He trailed off, noticing the subtle eyebrow raise on her face as she waited for him to continue. He sighed. â...trying to learn to forgive yourself.â
A ripple passed through the fuselage with a descending hum as the ship exited hyperspace. Crosshair tried to accept the fact that heâd just opened up to someone much more than heâd intended â more than heâd ever admitted to anyone. He could feel her gaze burning into him, and he pretended to be occupied with rubbing the goosebumps from his shoulders.Â
Ranya broke the heavy silence, steadying herself with the edge of the cot as a wave of turbulence rocked the ship. âWe must be entering the atmosphere. You should lie down.âÂ
Crosshair didnât argue. He didnât say a word until after the ship had landed.