What starts as a routine job quickly turns into a series of increasingly bad decisions with increasingly worse consequences. There are disappearing prisoners, something the Empire doesnât want found, and a very persistent enemy who wonât take the hint. On top of that, Synnovea is not having a great timeâstrange lapses, unreliable instincts, and the growing suspicion that whateverâs going wrong isnât entirely new. At this point, survival is less a plan and more a suggestion.
Convergence [3.6k words]
The Price of Help [4k words]
All Bets Are Off [1.7k words]
The Hard Line [5.2k words]
Holding On [6k words]
Perspective [3.5k words]
Threshold [4.5k words]
Collateral Damage [3.4k words]
An Echo of Doubt [5.4k words]
Diverting Power [8.2k words]
A Rising Tide [4.5k words]
Terminal Velocity [1.7k words]
Trying for Balance [4.4k words]
The Lonely Vigil [4.4k words]
Infiltration [3.2k words]
Rare Game [3.2k words]
What Breaks You [1.7k words]
No Way Forward [3.1 words]
Against the House [2.6 words]
The Chase [3.2 words]
Violence, Luck, and Things Going Horribly Wrong [4.3k words]
The commentator inhaled audibly, his voice rising with practiced excitement. âWell now, ladies and gentlemen, if you thought our scurriers had already faced the worst the Princeâs labyrinth had to offerâthink again. Allow me to introduce the final hunter of todayâs festivitiesâŚâ
The mech climbed into the light, its three legs churning as it cleared the ramp. One of its cannons was visibly warped and useless, metal fused and blackened from old damageâbut the remaining barrel swiveled smoothly as it adjusted its aim, and the repeating blaster beneath it whined as it powered up.
âVeteran mercenary, avid collector of spice refineries, and a man who paid handsomely for the privilege of ending this hunt riding an attack pod, of all thingsâDrokan Pell!â There was a pause, and a faint rustle, as if someone had leaned away from the mic. âIs thatâŚcan they useââ Another pause, longer this time. âOhâŚoh, really?â The commentator cleared his throat, enthusiasm snapping back into place as the volume rose again. âWell. In that caseâlooks like anything goes!â
In the viewing box, the Bad Batch leaned forward as one, their binders rattling as the bank of vidscreens along the waist-high wall brightened. The feeds adjusted automatically, pulling wide to capture the scale of what had emerged and now dominated the bare area. So close was the ambulatory weapon that the spectators in Scrist's private box didn't need to rely on the monitors. It towered above the retaining wall that ran around the entire expanse.
âThatâs not good,â Wrecker muttered.
Hunterâs breath left him slowly. âThatâsâŚthatâs a walker.â
Techâs eyes flicked rapidly between the screens and the tense layout almost directly below them in the arena. âAn AT-AP, Republic-era heavy assault platform. Tripedal configuration, designed for heavy siege operations. I was not aware that any had survived the war.â
âYouâve gotta be kidding me,â Echo snapped. "A sniper tank, in this space? That's complete overkill."
âThe primary mass-driver appears inoperative,â Tech continued, his eyes narrowing during his detached ramble. âThat is quite fortunate.â
Echo flung his manacled arms up in the direction of the arena. âOh, great. So itâs only got an ion cannon and a repeater left. That's all.â
Scrist lounged back in his chair, his manicured claws tapping each other as he steepled his fingers in front of him. âOverkill is such an ugly word.â
Beside him, Xirnâs dark eyes narrowed in his ugly face, displeasure rippling through his otherwise languid posture. âThis was not part of our agreement,â he snapped icily, his voice thick with disdain.
Scrist didnât look at him. His attention was fixated on the lonely figures on the stark landscape painfully devoid of refuge. âThe odds,â he said smugly, âalways favor the house.â He picked up his half-empty goblet and tipped it down his throat. "Always."
The walkerâs shadow crept across the ground of the arena like an ominous stain, its long legs unfolding with mechanical patience. Each step landed with a weight that Synnovea felt through her boots, up through her spine. Above them, the crowd whooped a multilingual symphony of disbelief and excitement, the sound distorted into something almost oceanic by the cavernous space. Abruptly, she stopped moving, standing there with her arm clamped over her midsection.
Omega nearly collided with her back. âWe have to go,â she said, breathless, her fingers closing around Synnoveaâs wrist and tugging hard. âWe have toââ It was the same as tugging at a statue. At first, Omega thought she hadnât heard. Then she realized it wasnât that at all.
Synnovea had stopped listing to the left; her hand no longer guarded her injured side. Her shoulders eased with a kind of weary resignation. Her spine straightened as her stance shifted. The frantic, hunted tension drained out of her posture and was replaced by something unnervingly still.âSynnovea?â Omega pulled again, harder this time, fear thinning out her voice. Still nothing.
At last, Synnovea spoke.
âIâm so tired of this.â
The words were flat and so soft Omega could barely catch them. Slowly, Synnovea turned her headânot toward the walker, but away from it. Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as if tracking something no one else could see. When her eyes finally settled on Omega, it was with a pause that made the air between them feel like strangers, as though Omega had only just now been registered.
They were no longer gray.
The color itself was almost beside the pointâit was the absence behind it that froze her. Gold, yes, but flat and distant, like light reflected off dimly polished metal. There was no warmth there, no recognition in the way Omega understood it. Just a moment of consideration, like someone noticing an object left in an inconvenient place. Omegaâs stomach dropped. For a split second, she was back on the Marauderâbeing shoved aside, the look on Synnoveaâs face distant and wrong, like sheâd stepped out of herself. The memory hit hard enough to steal her breath.
âWe have to run,â Omega said again, weaker this time as she faced the woman with growing dread. âThat thing has a cannon. And a repeater. Andââ
Synnovea glanced past her, back toward the walker, eyes flicking over it with mild interest. The way someone might regard a mess theyâd hoped not to deal with. The detached observation didn't match up with the hum of the heavy blaster as it neared operational power.
âMm,â she murmured. The sound was soft, almost amused. âYes. I see it.â
The walkerâs gun swiveled. A warning burst scorched the ground a few meters to Synnoveaâs left, showering sparks and molten stone. The crowd screamed in delight.
Omega flinched, ducking as clods of dirt sprayed them both. Synnovea didnât.
Another burst struck closer on the right, close enough that the heat washed over them. Omega cried out and stumbled backâbut Synnovea merely tilted her head, studying the impact with something like curiosity.
âRunning wonât help,â she remarked. Her voice was almost normal, almost, but hollowed out, smoothed razor sharp at the edges in a lighthearted tone that somehow withheld reassurance.
Omega swallowed. âAny moment they'll start shootingââ The ground trembled again as the attack pod took another step forward. Synnovea smiled faintly.
âYeah,â she said, nodding toward the walker, âthat wonât be enough to save them.â
Omegaâs hands slipped from her sleeve as Synnovea walked on in an unhurried gait straight toward the towering machine. The roar of the crowd swelled, confused now, uncertainâdrawn tight between anticipation and disbelief. It was as though whatever had stepped forward to face the walker had no fear.
In the viewing box, Hunter surged to his feet. âWhat is she up to?!â
Tech shook his head slowly. âThatâŚdoes not align with any rational survival model.â
âWell folks,â the commentator breathed, his excitement edging into nervous disbelief, âI donât think Iâve ever seen a scurrier take this approachâsheâs advancing straight toward the hunter!â A warning burst screamed across the arena floor, blaster bolts carving molten scars into the earth and stone beside Synnoveaâs path.
She didnât flinch.
"And Drokan fires right out of the gate! This may be the first time the arena has seen such firepower brought to such a small target. Hope you took your holos already, but if you haven't just remember they are always available for purchase at the concession stand on your way out."
Drokan pulled a lever in the gunner's mount and adjusted his aim. Another burst rang out, closer this time. Synnovea paused, glanced down at the scorched ground, and corrected her steps slightly to the right. And high above in his padded box, even Scristâs smile began to falter.
She kept going.
Not straight at the walkerânot quiteâbut on a shallow diagonal, each step measured, almost relaxed. The repeating blaster whined as it tracked her steps, its barrel adjusting in small, precise increments. She noticed that. Noted the rhythm of its sweep, the fraction of a second it lagged before correcting. She noticed the way the Devaronian hesitated, unsure whether to fire again so close, unsure why she wasnât running.
A burst tore into the ground ahead of her. Stone spat and sparked near her boots. She adjusted her stride by half a step and kept going. Omega shouted something; the sound slid past her, unimportant. Everything narrowed to angles and distance and timing. The squeakings of the child were inconsequential.
Here.
She stopped.
The walker loomed over her now, all steel and shadow and humming power. She could feel the vibration of it through the soles of her boots, the ion cannonâs charge cycling somewhere above like a held breath. The repeating blaster dipped, centering on her chest. Drokan Pell paused for effect, then made his selection. The blaster opened up in a sustained roar, not warning shots this time but a committed line of fire, bolts stitching the ground in a brutal advance meant to mow her down where she stood.
Synnovea dropped.
She folded into herself with sudden, fluid economy, her knees hitting the ground first, spine curving as she crouched low. Her hands came up over her head, fingers lacing, chin tucked.
Blaster fire raked over her.
The ground around her detonated, dirt and stone exploding upward in choking clouds. Heat slammed into her back, a white-hot line that burned through cloth and skin alike. There was a sharp, wet sensationâpain registering distantly, like an afterthoughtâfollowed by a thin spray of blood and flesh flung into the dust.
Omega screamed. The sound cut through the arena just before the crowd erupted, a wall of noise crashing down as spectators surged to their feet. Some cheered. Some shouted in shock. Credits exchanged hands mid-roar even as the blaster slowly spun to a halt, smoking slightly. When the firing stopped, the silence afterward was almost louder.
Dust drifted, slow and heavy.
In the settling haze, Synnovea pitched forward onto her hands, coughing once as she sucked air back into her lungs. Her shoulders shookânot with pain, but with something like hacking laughter held too tightly in the chest. Smoke curled from scorched fabric along her spine. The skin beneath was burned raw, angry and red, edges already blistering under the charred tunic.
Something heavy landed in front of her with a dull thud.
Her braid.
It lay coiled in the dirt, severed cleanly, black hair singed at the ends. For a long, suspended moment, she stared at it as if mildly surprised it was there at all.
Then another object struck the ground beside it.
The collar.
It hit once, bounced, and rolled to a stop, its back plate blown apart, wires sparking weakly before going dark.
Synnovea lifted her head. Her face was streaked with grime and smoke, hair shorn unevenly at the nape, shoulders trembling as she pushed herself upright. She glanced down at the collar, then at the walker towering above herâand smiled. It spread slowly, too wide and far too pleased, as if something long-caged had finally found a crack in the door and decided to tear it off its hinges. Her eyes caught the light through the dust cloud, bright and intent, alive with an unsettling, almost gleeful focus.
The crowd went berserk.
The heavy repeating blaster stuttered once, then twice, its cycling whine breaking into a harsh mechanical cough. Warning lights flared across the gunnerâs console. Drokan Pell swore, shoving a control lever aside with unnecessary force.
âRepeaterâs jammed,â the commentator shouted, voice pitching high with excitement. âLooks like our scurriers might get aâoh! Oh no, folks, heâs switching to the main cannonââ
The laser cannon began to charge. The sound was differentâlower, deeper, a gathering resonance that vibrated through the arena floor and into the bones. The air thickened around the muzzle, heat rippling outward in visible waves. Anyone whoâd ever seen it fired before knew what that meant. Not a wound, not even a body left behind. Just a smoking crater.
Synnovea's attention fixed on the cannon with open irritation, like someone confronted with a tedious problem that should not exist anymore. Her head canted slightly as her smile thinned. âOh,â she murmured softly in an annoyed tone. âNow thatâs rude.â She lifted one hand.
It wasnât a flamboyant gesture, just a deliberate movement. Her fingers curled slowly, one by one, as though grasping something only she could feel. Then she closed her hand into a fist and pulled down.
The cannon slammed.
Not recoiledâslammedâas if the sky itself had seized it and driven it into the ground. The barrel hit the hardpan with a thunderous crack, metal shrieking as it bent and crumpled, folding in on itself at a grotesque angle. It gouged a long, smoking furrow through the arena floor before finally wrenching to a stop.
Inside the walker, systems screamed. Sparks erupted from the gunnerâs seat in a violent spray, arcing across Pellâs chest and face. He howled, jerking back as the console overheated beneath his hands. The pilot droid convulsed as its controls overloaded, optics flaring blue-white before going dark.
The commentator lost all pretense of control. âThatâwhatâdid you see that? The cannonâby the moonsââ
Synnovea didnât wait. She turned her palm outward this time and pressed.
The walker staggered as if struck by a giant's fist. One massive leg skidded backward, its clawed foot carving a trench into the dirt as the whole machine struggled for balance. The internal explosion went off a heartbeat later. Fire burst from access panels. The pilot compartment blew outward in a spray of shrapnel and flame, obliterating the droid instantly and hurling Drokan Pell hard against his restraints. He had time to scream once.
She made a second, sharper motionâless patience in it this time. The force of it was undeniable now, a concussive wave that flattened dust and debris outward in a rippling ring. The walker tipped, its center of gravity breached beyond recovery. With a creaking groan like a dying god, it plummeted backward in slow motion. Straight into the retaining wall next to the viewing box.
The impact was catastrophic.
The waist-high railing disintegrated as the walkerâs bulk crushed into it, tearing away a section of the platform entirely. Hunter yanked Omegaâs brothers backward as debris showered the platform. Echo hit the deck hard. Wrecker barreled into Tech, hauling him out of the way as the floor shuddered beneath them. Triage moved on instinct alone, ducking as a slab of broken stone screamed past where his head had been a second earlier.
Seats toppled. Viewers shrieked and scrambled back in panic. Scrist swore loudly, stumbling as the floor lurched beneath his feet. Xirn vanished into the chaos, retreating toward the tunnels without a backward glance. When the dust cleared, the walker lay half-crumpled against the structure, its ruined frame now forming a steep, jagged ramp up to the shattered box.
Synnovea stepped onto its leg. She walked upward with unhurried ease, her boots crunching over bent plating and smoking components as though ascending a set of stairs rather than the corpse of a war machine. Flames licked at the wreckage around her, reflected in her eyesâbut she didnât look at them.
Drokan Pell was still alive.
Barely.
He was crushed into the gunnerâs seat at an angle that should not have been possible, armor buckled inward, blood soaking through the front of his jacket. His eyes fluttered open as she approached, unfocused and glassy.
Synnovea crouched in front of him.
Up close, her expression was one of detached curiosity. She studied him the way one might examine a broken experiment, without malice, without sympathy. Drokan saw her. A trembling hand lifted from the console, reaching out in a weak, reflexive gesture. Help. Mercy. Something.
For a momentâjust oneâshe lifted a single finger, hovering it close to his outstretched hand.
Almost touching.
It hovered just shy of his grasp, close enough that he strained toward it, breath hitching in wet, broken gasps.
Then she stopped.
His eyes fixed on the centimeter between their hands. Synnovea idly watched his strength fail. Watched his hand fall, fingers slackening as the light drained from his eyes. When he went still, she straightened, already uninterested, and climbed the last few feet into the viewing box without a backward glance.
The crowd was howling nowârunning, stampedingâbut in the ruined box, no one spoke. She stood among them like something summoned rather than born, smoke and dust clinging to her, eyes bright and unreadable. The clones were still on the ground, scattered where the impact had thrown them. For a heartbeat, no one movedâthen the memory muscle of training kicked in. Bruised muscles screamed protest as Hunter and Echo pushed themselves upright. Wrecker rolled to a knee, already reaching for Tech to haul him up.
Synnovea did not look at them. She stood amid the wreckage as if alone, gaze drifting over the torn railing and the empty seats beyond. They might as well have been furniture. Or insects.
Echo was the first to act.
He lunged for Scrist, who had frozen in place, staring at the ruin of his arena with slack disbelief. Echo grabbed his arm, snapping his vambrace open and driving the scomp link home with a vicious jab. Sparks burst from Scristâs control band as Echo broke it, the device shrieking once before dying in a curl of smoke.
Scrist yelled in alarm. That sound finally drew her attentionânot to him, but to the absence beside him. Her head turned in a slow, sweeping motion, settling on the empty space where Xirn had been only moments before. Understanding settled with a curl of contempt.
âThe Anzat,â she murmured. It was disgustâlike noticing rot. She took a step toward the tunnel entrance, already shifting her weight as if to hunt him down, when a hand closed around her arm.
âSynnovea,â Hunter said urgently. âWe have to go! We need our gear before the Zygerrians regroup.â
She halted. Her gaze dropped to where his fingers wrapped around her sleeve. Then it liftedâslowlyâto his face. Hunter had faced war droids, bounty hunters, Separatist generals. None of that prepared him for the look in her eyes.
They were no longer the soft, storm-gray he remembered. They moved too quickly, tracking, assessingâsliding over him and past him as if cataloguing a space rather than seeing a person. When her gaze shifted, it swept the box in a single, efficient arc: Omega clambering up the walker with careful steps, deliberately not looking at Drokanâs body. Wrecker tearing binders from Tech and Echo, snapping collars and flinging them aside. Triage standing apart, utterly still, watching her with something tight and unreadable drawn across his face.
Then she glanced down at his hand on her arm as though inspecting garbage. Hunter let go. Almost absently, she turned back to Scrist. He was still choking, scrubbing at his face as the broken control sparked uselessly on his wrist. Without moving closer, she lifted one hand.
Scrist rose. His feet left the floor as if gravity had simply forgotten him, his body jerking as an invisible grip closed around his throat. His face purpled beneath his fur, green eyes bulging as he scrabbled at nothing.
âWhere,â she asked mildly, voice calm and conversational, âare the effects of the slaves kept?â
Scrist tried to speak. Failed. Tried again. âNânext room,â he gasped. âNo, twoâtwo rooms downââ
Her fingers relaxed slightly. âThank you,â she said, with perfect courtesy.
Then her hand snapped sideways.
Scristâs head struck the wall with a dull, wet crack. The sound cut through the box like a blaster shot. His body crumpled immediately, sliding down the stone, skull crushed, very obviously dead.
For a second, no one spoke.
Then the Bad Batch exploded into motion.
âGear room, two down,â Echo said rapidly.
âWrecker, you and me,â Hunter replied.
âOn it,â Wrecker grunted, already moving.
âTech, get ready to override their door controls,â Hunter added.
Their voices overlapped, sharp and urgent, plans forming and reforming in seconds.
Synnovea watched them with open amusement now, her head tilted as her lips curved just slightly. The look was not unkindâbut it was deeply unsettling, as though she were entertained by a clever trick performed by trained animals.
She peered down at her side, commenting lightly, almost gleefully. âWellâŚthat's going to leave a mark.â The smile lingered just long enough for him to ponder what she meant. Then her knees buckled. It was instant and abruptâlike a marionette whose strings had been severed. She folded in on herself without warning, consciousness dropping away as her body hit the shattered floor.
They ran.
Rappelling lines burned through gloves as they slid down the sheer outer wall of the city, ten meters of stone dropping away beneath their boots. The arena behind them was still in chaosâsirens wailing, distant shouts echoingâbut none of them looked back. Wrecker hit the ground first, knees flexing to absorb the impact, Synnovea slung over his shoulder like dead weight. She didnât stir. Her head lolled against his back, dark hair shorn and scorched, face pale and utterly still.
âMove, move!â Hunter snapped, already cutting for the treeline.
They tore into the jungle at a dead run, branches whipping at armor, roots grabbing at their boots. The trees swallowed them wholeâthick leaves, choking humidity, the ground slick with moss and rot. Behind them, metal gates groaned open. Blaster fire followed. Red bolts lanced through the trees, searing bark, lighting the undergrowth in violent flashes. A shot scorched past Echoâs shoulder; another exploded a fern into ash at Omegaâs feet.
âArEx!â She shouted into her comm as she sprinted, lungs heaving. âStart the shipânow! Weâre coming in hot!â Static crackled, then frantic beeping answered her, the Marauderâs engines whining to life somewhere ahead.
The Zygerrians were gaining. Heavy boots pounded closer, voices could be heard barking orders, the rhythm of pursuit tightening like a noose over their newly acquired freedom. Wrecker adjusted his grip on Synnovea, his jaw clenched, as he pounded through the underbrush.
Then the jungle detonated into brightly-colored shapes dropping out of the treesâsmall, fast, feral. Omega risked a glance back, and her heart leapt. Kowakian monkey lizards swarmed the pursuers in a living wave, clinging to armor and faces, biting, shrieking in high-pitched voices, yanking fur and flesh with wild abandon. Zygerrians spun crazily, shouting, blasters firing wildly into the air as they tried to beat the creatures off. One of them was waving Wrecker's binocs that it was using to clobber a guard in the face.
They burst into the clearing just as the Marauderâs ramp slammed down. ArEx hovered at the hatch, its optics flashing, beeping in frantic relief. Tech shoved past the droid without slowing, skidding into the cockpit and dropping into the pilotâs seat. âHold on,â he said, already pulling the yoke back.
Hunter was the last to climb the steps. âThatâs itâgo!â He yelled as he slammed his palm onto the airlock panel. The ramp snapped shut as the ship lifted, its engines screaming. Blaster bolts streaked past the hull; one glanced off the shields in a flare of blue light. Then the trees fell away beneath them, the jungle shrinking to a dark green blur as Tech punched them straight up, breaking atmosphere in a bone-rattling climb.
Only then did the tension begin to ease. Inside the hold, Triage staggered back against the wall, one hand braced on the bulkhead, breathing hard. His shoulders sagged as the adrenaline drained, exhaustion crashing in all at once. He slid down until he was half-sitting, half-leaning, eyes closed for a moment too long. Wrecker carefully lowered Synnovea to the deck, easing her into a seated position against the wall. He adjusted her so her head rested safely in the corner, one massive hand lingering at her shoulder as if to make sure she stayed upright. She didnât wake.
The Marauder broke through the clouds, leaving Kowak behindâchaos, blood, and a fallen arena disappearing into the void.
The ship settled into a steadier hum as it cleared Kowakâs gravity well, the deck still thrumming with residual vibration. Emergency lights lifted to a normal level. The smell of scorched metal and blood lingered in the air, clinging to everything. Once past the exosphere, the shuddering ceased altogether, and the resulting quiet was almost as deafening as the arena's crowd.
Tech didnât leave the pilotâs seat. His hands moved in precise, economical patterns as he ran scans and course corrections in tandem with navigation. âWe are clear of immediate pursuit,â he said, more to the ship than anyone else. âHull integrity acceptable. Minor scoring only.â
Wrecker had wedged himself into the copilotâs chair, one arm draped over the back, chest still rising and falling a little too fast. âHeh,â he muttered. âThat was fun. Terrifyinâ, but fun.â
Hunter crouched near the rear of the cockpit, checking Omega over with a practiced eye. She sat on a crate, legs swinging, grime-streaked and scraped but very much alive. âIâm fine,â she insisted, a little breathless. âI told you. Just bumps.â
âHumor me,â Hunter said, soft but firm, finishing his check before nodding once. âOkay.â
In the corner, Synnovea lay slumped against the wall where Wrecker had set her, her breathing shallow but steady. Tech left the controls and extended a scanner toward her, eyes narrowing as data streamed across his display.
âMultiple superficial blaster burns along the dorsal ridge and shoulders,â he reported. âSignificant tissue damage, but non-lethal. That's fortunate; it could have been much worse. Pain response should be⌠considerable.â After a pause, his brow furrowed. âHowever, these readings do not account for the behavioral anomaly observed in the arena.â
Before anyone could respond, Synnovea stirred. Wincing, her eyesâgray, storm-tossed ringsâsquinted against the glare. She sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders pulling in jerkily as pain registered all at once. Her hand went to her side, fingers trembling. For a heartbeat she looked lost, eyes unfocused, then awareness snapped into place. She pushed herself upright.
âEasy,â Wrecker started, already half out of his seat. She ignored him, grabbing at the back of one of the chairs to propel her upright.
âSynnoveaââ Hunter tried.
She was already on her feet, swaying slightly, one hand braced against the wall. Tech moved to intercept, his scanner still raised, but she brushed past him with more force than her condition warranted. âIâm fine,â she said hoarsely, though she very clearly wasnât. Her gaze swept the ship, frantic now, searching. The cockpit, the hold, the familiar armor, the familiar facesâuntil it found him.
Triage stood near the rear gunner mount, half in shadow, one shoulder against the bulkhead. He looked exhausted in the bone-deep way that didnât fade with rest. The scar along his throat caught the light through his beard as he turned.
They froze.
The rest of the ship ceased to exist.
Synnovea took a step toward him, relief flooding her features in a torrent so naked it hurt to see. âYouâreââ Her voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. âYouâre alive.â She reached for him, fingers lifting toward his shoulder as if drawn there by instinct.
The snap echoed through the hold.
Triage caught her wrist midair, grip iron-hard, stopping her cold. The sound of itâskin on skin, sudden and sharpâmade Omega flinch in surprise.
Synnovea startled, pain and confusion flickering across her face. She didnât pull away, just stared at where his hand held her, then up at him. âTriage,â she said quietly. âIâ Iâve been trying to find you. For an entire cycle. I didnât know ifââ
âReally,â he pronounced.
It wasnât loud. It wasnât grateful. It was dry, almost empty, edged with something that might have been disbelief. His eyes never left her face.
She nodded, a little desperately. âYes. I looked everywhere I could. I followed every lead that made sense. I thoughtâ I hopedââ She faltered, then pushed on through his stony silence. âDid any of Beacon squad make it out with you? Do you know where they are?â
His grip loosened, but he didnât let go right away. He stared at her as if sheâd asked him something incomprehensible. Then he released her wrist and answered.
âDead,â he said flatly. âTheyâre all dead.â
The words landed like a physical blow.
Synnoveaâs face crumpled, grief breaking through the shock in a sharp, silent wave. She took a step closer without seeming to realize sheâd moved. âWhat⌠what happened to them?â
Triage took a step back.
He looked at her then as if sheâd lost all sense, as if the question itself was unreal.
ââŚYou did.â
Previous: Ch 21 / Next: Ch 23
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(banner created by the bestest person in the galaxy @unconsciousxreality, artwork clips taken from my commission from @yuniira, I love you both!)
The Batch thought they were the first ones Cid sends after Muchi. When Lyrri is discovered in the Zygerrian's camp, broken and bleeding, the Batch has to pivot, and she has to accept there might actually be people in this galaxy who are willing to help her.
Episode 1x05 | Canon Compliant to start | EchoxFem!Mercenary!OC
Notes:
TRIGGER WARNINGS - physical abuse, implied sexual slavery, implied/referenced SA and torture, flashbacks depicting SA/torture (not-explicit), trauma, PTSD
Other tags: Blood and Injury, Slow Burn, Whump, Hurt/Comfort
PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 AO3
(Beyond the Pale) Chapter 21: Violence, Luck, and Things Going Horribly Wrong
Summary
Forced deeper into the maze, Synnovea and Omega aren't out of the woods yet; two more hunters still stalk the corridors, as well as who knows what else.
When they passed into the next section, the first thing that hit Synnovea was the smell. Damp earth. Rotting vegetation. The sharp, acrid tang of something that hunted and fed and lived here. She slowed despite herself, one hand drifting back just enough to make sure Omega was still close. The arena beyond the threshold looked nothing like the stark deathtraps theyâd already passed through. This place looked like the world outside, looked aliveâpacked dirt underfoot, clusters of rocks and fallen logs arranged with careless intent, the walls disguised with faux stone and creeping growth. A low chittering echoed somewhere ahead.
Omega swallowed. âThis looks like a zoo.â
Synnoveaâs mouth tightened. âFor something,â she said quietly. âYes.â
Above them, unseen speakers crackled to life, the commentatorâs voice spilling out with delighted anticipation. âOho! And there they go, folksâstraight into one of the audience's favorite setups. Prince Sono does love to share his little exotic pets. A lovingly crafted homage to the great predator pits of old. Plenty of room to run, plenty of places to hide⌠and nowhere to go if youâre too slow.â
The crowd roared in response, a wall of sound pressing down on the enclosure. Synnovea felt it like pressure against her skin, the echo of thousands of eyes tracking their every movement. She forced herself to keep walking. Slowly. The ground sloped gently downward, the packed dirt was uneven beneath her boots. She noted the scuffed paths, the shallow grooves worn into the earth. Claw marks scored the rocks. Some were fresh.
The chittering came againâcloser this time. Omega leaned in, keeping her voice low. âWhat makes that kind of noise?â
Synnovea didnât answer right away. She crouched, her fingers brushing the dirt near a half-collapsed log. Thereâindentations, clustered too closely together. Three of them, over and over. Not random. There was a purpose to these marks, if she could just remember where she read about themâŚ
âA warren,â she said finally as the shapes in her mind finally clicked into words. âWeâre in a nesting ground.â
As if summoned by the word, movement rippled through the enclosure.
Shapes detached themselves from the shadowsâfirst one, then another, then too many to count. Lyleks skittered into view, their sickly-green chitinous bodies catching the light in jagged flashes. Multi-faceted eyes fixed on the intruders. Mandibles clicked in agitation, the sound sharp and hungry. Omega froze.
In the viewing box above, five clones leaned forward as one. Techâs eyes flicked rapidly across the monitors lining the waist-high wall. âLyleks, from the planet Ryloth. Highly territorial, especially in proximity to eggs.â
Wrecker grimaced. âWhyâs it always large bugs?â
Hunter didnât answer. His gaze was locked on the screen where Synnovea had gone very still, her expression blanking out as she shifted in readiness, watching the advancing creatures.
Triage said nothing at all.
Back on the arena floor, Synnovea straightened slowly. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to breathe evenly as the lyleks began to spread out, fanning into a loose semicircle. Clicks and clacks echoed softly as they pattered closer, their heads tilting in twitching motions almost like that of birds. If birds had eyes the size of fists, and crushing mandible jaws.
âTheyâre deciding,â she murmured.
âDeciding what?â Omega whispered.
âWhich one of us is easier to eat.â
The commentator laughed, rich with anticipation. âOh, you can feel it, canât you? The tension! The patience! Our lovely residents are just waiting to see who panics first.â
Panic. Too late, Synnovea realized that the sweat on her neck had gelled to a tacky residue, her heartbeat had fallen toâ
"Omegaâ"
Lightning raced down her spine in a vicious arc as her collar jerked a strangled cry from her throat, jostling her down to a knee as her vision blurred down to random swaths of black and white. Her cry and stumble broke the frozen tableau that had taken over the enclosure. A lylek twitched, antennae quivering with aggressionâand then the enclosure exploded into motion.
With a collective screech, several of the creatures lunged forward, their jointed legs pumping up and down like rows of pistons. Their bodies hugged the ground, curving with the landscape as they practically flowed in a chittering wave. There were so many of them, it was impossible to stay together. Lunging from the ground, Synnovea dashed to the right, towards the thickest number of lyleks. It workedâŚsort of.
Only half broke toward Omega.
Omega didnât wait to be told. She spun and bolted toward the nearest rock formation, boots scrambling for purchase as claws raked the dirt behind her. The lyleks pursuing her moved with terrifying speed, bounding over obstacles, snapping mandibles inches from her heels.
In the box, Hunter surged to his feet, hands slamming against the rail. âTheyâre splitting them up.â
On the screen, Synnovea pivoted sharply, slowing as she noticed that the entire swarm wasn't following her. Up on the rocks, Omega's left foot slipped, dangling enticingly above the leaping jaws at the base of the boulder before she managed to get a knee over a higher ledge, hoisting herself up.
Synnovea's gaze snapped to the center of the enclosure. In a shallow bowl tamped out in the earth, surrounded by twigs and lined with rough pebbles, pale ovoid object lay clustered in a heap. Eggs. Each one lovingly clean and carefully balanced amongst the others. Their shells were mottled and faintly translucent in the warm sunlight.
Her jaw set.
âOh no,â Tech breathed, seeing it a heartbeat before she moved.
Synnovea kicked the nearest lylek in the thorax, booting it into the one behind them. Breaking from her original path, she sprinted straight for the nest, every instinct screaming at her not toâbut knowing there was no other way. Behind her, the remaining lyleks turned as one, their collective shriek rising into a furious, enraged howl as she crossed some invisible line in the ground.
In the stands, the crowd erupted.
âWell folks,â the commentator crowed, his voice climbing with unrestrained glee, âit looks like one of our scurriers has made a very interesting choice.â
Synnovea hit the nest at a dead run.
She scooped up the nearest egg without slowing, the smooth, faintly warm shell nearly slipping from her fingers as the weight surprised her. It was heavier than it lookedâalive, unmistakably alive, something tipped insideâand the instant it left the hollow, the enclosure exploded with a high-pitched sound.
The lyleks screamed. It wasnât just sound; it was fury given voice. Their mandibles opened wide, revealing rows of serrated edges. Every single one of them turned on her as if of one mind, abandoning Omega in a heartbeat, their many legs hammering the dirt as they surged after their stolen future.
âOkay so that really worked,â Synnovea muttered, already sprinting for all she was worth. She vaulted the first fallen log, boots skidding on bark polished slick with age. Without the Force, there were no effortless leaps, no preternatural balance. Every movement brought muscle, momentum, and a very real awareness that one mistake would end her.
The egg wobbled in her grip.
âOhâno you donât,â she hissed, clutching it tighter as she landed hard, knees screaming. A lylek snapped at her heel, its jaws clanging shut centimeters from her calf. It scraped against the ground, venting its thorax in a musky odor, dry and cloying, like snakeskins or old leaves. The lyleks closest to her flushed a deeper shade of green, their tentacle-like arms snapping in the air. "Well, that can't be goodâŚ"
Above, the commentator lost his mind. âUNBELIEVABLE! An outright theft, folks! A direct insult to the nest! Bold? Absolutely. Fearless? Possibly deranged! Sheâs turned the entire enclosure into a death chase!â
The crowd roared its approval.
Synnovea scrambled up a slanted rock face, her fingers slipping on grit as she hauled herself over the top. The egg slid in her arm againâtoo far. She windmilled, her heart lurching into her throat, managing to clutch it against her chest just before it could hit the rock's surface. The motion cost her balance. Her foot slid. For a split second, she was weightless. Then she fell.
She hit the ground in a heavy thud, the impact momentarily knocking the breath from her lungs. Pain flared down her spine, sharp and hot, and her lungs mourned the loss of air, but she rolled instinctively, curling around the egg as claws raked the dirt where her head had been a moment before.
âOkay,â she wheezed, scrambling to her feet, âground is still hard. Good to know.â
Another lylek lunged. Synnovea dove sideways, stepping on another, barely clearing a large pointed leg smash down, breaking the hardpan soil, and sprinted againâzigzagging now, using rocks and logs to break line of sight. She hoped it would help. Her lungs burned. Sweat stung her eyes. She felt every ounce of fatigue, every jarring impact.
Across the enclosure, Omega had frozen at the top of the rocky outcropping. The lyleks that had bayed her initially were no longer below, but had joined the ravenous herd. She stood watching in horror as Synnovea tore across the arena with an entire nest of eight-foot maddened arthropods on her heels.
âSynnoveaâ!â she shouted as the woman sprinted past, still cradling one of the large pale eggs like a gravball, tucked securely under one arm.
âMOVE!â Synnovea yelled back without looking. âI am not doing all this cardio for you to just stand there!â
âWhat does it look like Iâm doing?â Omega snapped, already climbing down the far side as fast as she dared, keeping low, keeping quiet. She hit the ground and took off. Crossing an open area, she looked around nervously, but Synnovea had successfully pulled every lylek to follow her in a mad dash around the perimeter.
Up in the viewing box, the roar of the crowd had bled into a constant, hungry thunder. The screens along the waist-high wall flickered between anglesâSynnovea sprinting with the egg, lyleks boiling after her, Omega disappearing from view. The entire enclosure shook with the pounding legs of the furious insectoids, yet Scrist barely looked away from his glass.
âHm,â he said mildly, as if commenting on a dejarik move. âTheyâre more responsive than I anticipated.â
Xirn leaned back in his chair, long fingers steepled, his black eyes fixed on the screens with lazy interest. âI was wondering,â he said, conversationally. âLyleks arenât meant to be nesting this time of year. How did you coax them into breeding?â A servant lowered a tray of finger foods near his elbow, and he waved it away. Synnovea vanished into a knot of rocks, lyleks shrieking behind her in a mammoth crowd as they followed, jointed legs smashing at the smaller boulders.
Scrist smiled thinly. âStarvation works wonders. Add hormonal stimulants, a little sonic agitation.â He shrugged, reaching out to take one of the savories and stuffing it into his mouth. âTheyâre simple creatures, really," he continued as he chewed. "You give them a territory and place a threat inside of it, and they do the rest for you. They never disappoint when properly provoked.â
Onscreen, Synnovea slipped, nearly taking a header into the shallow stream that carved its way across the area. The crowd gasped, then cheered when she recovered on its slippery bank. Xirn chuckled softly. âRemarkable. All that effort just to make the maze feel⌠alive.â His gaze sharpened as she half-slid, half-fell down the broken skeleton of some large creature that hadn't been as fast, or lucky. âFear ripens better when it has something to lose.â
"She's slowing down," Scrist chuckled rubbing his hands together. âThe collar limits her efficiency. Fear, pain, exhaustionâit all compounds. Eventually, everyone missteps.â
âEventually,â Xirn echoed, smiling faintly. âI do enjoy watching the moment hope turns into panic. ItâsâŚintimate.â
Hunterâs jaw clenched. Techâs hands curled into fists at his sides.
âAnd I thought the Empire was bad,â Echo muttered.
On the screen, Synnovea vaulted another log, barely clearing it. Her foot clipped the edge, pitching her forward. She stumbled, nearly dropped the egg again, and had to throw herself into a roll to avoid being bowled over by a lylek that crashed past her in a frenzy. Curling over the egg, she tucked her head in as the spear-like legs stabbed agitatedly into the ground.
The commentator was nearly shouting now. âOh, sheâs slowing! You can see it! The strain! Doubling back is going to cost her precious seconds. That strategy might be brilliantâor it might get her torn apart!â
Triage, slouched back in his seat with his collar gleaming dully against his throat, snorted. âYou ever notice,â he drawled, eyes never leaving the screen, âthat people who talk about âsimple creaturesâ are usually the ones who canât survive without an army of toys?â
Scrist shot him a glare. âWatch your mouth, skug.â
Xirn lifted a hand, amused. âNo, no. Let him speak. I enjoy gallows humor.â His eyes flicked briefly to Triage. âEspecially from things that know theyâre already dead.â
Triageâs smile didnât reach his eyes. âFunny,â he said. âYou had to handicap her just to keep her in the arena, and she's still running circles around your expensive pets.â
Xirnâs expression softened into something almost fond. âShe does endure well,â he murmured. âI always admired that about her. You can bend most beings with pain. OthersâŚâ His smile sharpened. âOthers require patience. Pressure. A slow descent into a waking nightmare that never ends.â
Wrecker growled under his breath. âI hate him.â
Scrist took a sip of his drink, eyes gleaming. âEnjoy it while it lasts. You bet against the house, Xirn. I sincerely hope you didn't need all those credits.â
Xirnâs smile sharpened. âShe runs beautifully when cornered.â
Triageâs expression didnât changeâbut something in his eyes went cold.
âYeah,â he said flatly. âFunny how people do that.â
On the big vidscreen, Omega broke into a run toward the far side of the enclosure.
Synnovea burst from between two boulders into a clearer stretch of ground and realized, dimly, that she was running out of options. The lyleks were faster on open terrain. Her legs were burning. Her grip was slick with sweat. She glanced onceâjust onceâover her shoulder. Omega was no longer up on the rocks. Relief hit her so hard it almost buckled her knees.
As if on cue, another lylek lunged again, forcing her to twist sharply. She skidded, barely keeping her footing, the egg slipping dangerouslyââNope, no nono,â she growled, yanking it back in and sprinting for the nearest tangle of rocks as the creatures screamed and gave chase, the enclosure echoing with chaos, speed, and the razor-thin edge between survival and disaster. Once Synnovea was certainâabsolutely certainâthat Omega had cleared the far side of the enclosure, she stopped running away and turned deliberately toward the nest.
She raised the egg.
Every lylek saw it.
The reaction was instantaneous and deafening. A shrill, tearing chorus ripped through the enclosure as the insectoids reared and shrieked, their attention snapping wholly to the fragile oval in her hands. Mandibles clacked. Claws gouged furrows in broken stone. The very air seemed to vibrate with their rage.
âThat's right,â Synnovea breathed, heart hammering. âEyes on me.â
She hurled the egg straight up.
It soared higher than sheâd meant it to, spinning end over end beneath the arena lights. For a suspended, unreal heartbeat, the entire nest frozeâevery lylek tracking the arc of it, instinct overriding everything else.
Synnovea didnât wait to see it fall. She dropped low and ran, ducking between stampeding legs, slid beneath a chitinous thorax. She felt the rush of displaced air as massive bodies collided above her. A claw clipped her shoulder and spun her sideways; she caught herself on a knee and kept going, her boots skidding in dirt and gravel as she drove toward the far exit with everything she had left.
Behind her, the egg bounced off one of their heads, rolled down a carapace, and plopped onto the ground. Rolling gently, delicately even, until one of the massive legs came down, shattering it. The entire pack exploded into chaosâscreeches climbing into a frenzy as the lyleks collided, turned on one another, scrabbled and tore in a blind storm of fury. Synnovea clambered over a rotting tree and misjudged the landing. She nearly went down hard, then she was through the opening, stumbling into the narrow passage beyond.
The noise cut off abruptly.
For a single, brittle moment, there was quiet. Not true silenceâthe distant roar of the crowd still seeped through the walls and crashed over their headsâbut the immediate, bone-deep adrenaline was seeeping away. Synnovea braced her hands against the corridor wall, dragging air back into her lungs in great gulps as her pulse thundered in her ears.
Omega was there. Wide-eyed, breathing hard, but upright. Alive.
They stared at each other for a split secondârelief sharp and almost painfulâbefore Synnovea straightened, already turning to move again.
Thenâ
A blaster shot cracked through the passage.
In the viewing box, the commentatorâs voice rose, eager and smooth. âAnd there it is, folks. Karn Ekir finally makes his move. Heâs a patient oneâlikes to pick his spot and let the prey come to him.â On the monitors, a broad figure shifted into view, rifle braced to his shoulder with practiced ease as he tracked the corridor ahead. âBut donât be fooled,â the commentator continued, almost cheerfully. âEkirâs not above running his quarry down if he has to. And a little trivia for our audienceâhe prefers his trophies clean. No headshots. They donât look nearly as impressive mounted.â
Karn's rifle whined softly as it charged again. He didnât rush them. His footsteps were measured, unhurried, echoing through the corridors behind them with the confidence of someone who knew they were running out of places to hide. Each turn they took bought seconds, not distance. Every sharp corner only funneled them deeper into the mazeâs bones, the walls closing in, the air growing stale and hot with desperation.
âLeftâno, right,â Synnovea snapped, already pivoting, Omega right on her heels as another shot scorched the wall where her head had been a moment before. Stone exploded into grit that stung the side of their faces. The sound ricocheted through the passage, followed by the low hum of the rifle recharging.
They burst through the next turnâ
âand stopped.
The corridor ended in blank stone.
Synnovea didnât stop. She spun, her back to the wall, and dropped into a crouch, fingers lacing together automatically. âUp. Now.â
Omega stared at her, eyes wide. âWhat about you?â
Synnovea looked up at her then, her expression hard, her steely voice cutting clean through the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd. âYou promised. You do as I say, no questions!â The next shot cracked overhead, close enough that Omega flinched as heat kissed the air near her face. Synnovea glared down at her.
That decided it. Omega planted her foot in Synnoveaâs hands, and Synnovea surged upward with everything left in her legs. Omega caught the edge, scrabbled, then hauled herself onto the top of the wall, boots slipping on smooth stone before she found her balance.
âCan you see the exit?â Synnovea called, already turning, already listening for Karn.
âIâyeah. I thinkââ
A blaster bolt shrieked past Omegaâs shoulder, close enough to make her yelp. She crouched down instinctively, then scrambled up and broke into a run along the wallâs narrow spine, her boots pounding as another shot chased her heels.
âGo!â Synnovea shouted, the word tearing out of her chest. âDonât stop!â
Karn rounded the corner at a jog, rifle already tracking upward, eyes narrowing as a small blonde hair bobbed in his sights.
Synnovea sprinted straight at him. He adjusted smoothly, lifting the rifleâbut she leapt, planting a foot on the wall and twisting midair, her kick slamming into the barrel just as it fired. The shot went wild, scorching the ceiling as the rifle was knocked aside.
The hunter grunted, surprisedâbut only for a second. He rocketed forward, slamming her back-first into the wall. The rifle stock jammed up under her chin, pinning her there, the cold metal biting into her throat as his weight crushed the breath from her lungs. Up above, Omega skidded to a halt, looking back.
âNo!â Synnovea rasped, her voice raw, panic cutting through her control. âDonât you stopâOmega, run! Just go!âShe sagged against the stone, her breath aching as Karn pressed closer, the rifle still locked beneath her chin. His grip tightened, his presence filling her vision as the crowdâs roar murmured faintly through the stone. The toes of her boots scraped along the ground as he lifted the barrel higher, then they dangled.
Above them, Omega paused, then jumped down, throwing herself on Karn feet-first. She came down on Karnâs shoulders with a small, fierce cry, her arms locking around his neck as her weight slammed into him from behind. It wasnât enough to truly hurt himâshe was too small, too lightâbut it was enough to piss him off. Karn swore, stumbling a half-step forward. The rifle jerked away from Synnoveaâs throat.
âOmega!â Synnovea coughed, terror slicing through her.
With a brutal twist, Karn reached back and grabbed Omega by the arm, tearing her loose as if she weighed nothing. He flung her aside. She hit the stone wall hard and skidded, the breath knocked from her lungs, scrambling to roll before she could even think. Karn was already reaching for his sidearm.
Synnovea launched herself at him again. The impact drove them both into the opposite wall, bodies colliding hard enough to rattle her teeth. Karn grunted, surprised again, and this time she took advantage of itâgrappling close, hands clawing at his arms, her shoulder slamming into his chest as she tried to keep the pistol from clearing its holster. He was bigger. Stronger. Every movement of his felt like pushing against a durasteel door.
âStay down!â he snarled, wrenching at her arm.
âNotâhappening,â she gasped back, teeth clenched as she headbutted him, the blow glancing but sharp.
They staggered, boots scraping, grappling desperately in the narrow space. The pistol came free in Karnâs hand as he twisted, his elbow slamming into her ribs. Pain struck in blinding flashes, but she wrapped herself around his arm, forcing it wide.
Behind them, Omega was just getting to her kneesâ
âand the blaster went off.
Once.
Twice.
Three sharp cracks that echoed down the corridor.
Omega froze. When she lifted her head, Karn was slumping, his weight collapsing forward as Synnovea rolled with him, barely managing to shove him aside before he hit the ground. The pistol clattered across the stone and skidded out of reach.
Karn Ekir lay still.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but ringing silence. Then Synnovea pushed herself upright with a sharp inhale, one hand pressed hard to her side. Her fingers came away dark. She noticedâbut she didnât look at it for long.
Omega scrambled over. âYouâyouâreââ
âIâm fine,â Synnovea said quickly, already straightening, already forcing her breathing even. She flashed Omega a thin, determined smile that didnât quite reach her eyes. âCome on. We can't stop.â
She turned and limped into the passage before Omega could argue.
In the viewing box, the reactions came in a fractured wave.
Wrecker let out a low, impressed whistle. âHeh. Took him down anyway.â
Echoâs gaze flicked between screens, already tracking Synnoveaâs gait. âSheâs favoring her left. One of those shots clipped her.â
Triage had gone very still. He murmured quietly, almost to himself, âWell. Thatâs one way to end it.â
Scristâs expression darkened. Xirn only smiled.
Back in the corridors, Synnoveaâs pace slowed despite her best efforts. Each step sent a sharp reminder through her side. Her breaths were coming shorter now, like she was rationing air. Omega stayed by her side, eyes forward, focused on the path ahead, until the corridor suddenly opened. They spilled out into a vast space, empty save for the echoing boom of the audience. Omega skidded to a stop, staring.
The room was enormousâand still growing.
With a grinding roar, nearby walls began to retract into the floor, slabs of stone sinking away to reveal an even larger arena beyond. The echoes multiplied. The crowdâs distant roar swelled, reaching a fevered pitch. Synnovea bent slightly at the waist, hands on her knees, fighting for breath.
âUh oh,â she said faintly.
Omega turned. âWhatâs wrong?â
Synnovea straightened just enough to look at the widening space, eyes tracking the scale of it as it increased.
âBig room,â she gasped.
Omega frowned. âYeah, so?â
Synnovea managed a humorless huff. âBig room⌠bad.â
As if summoned by the words, a deep mechanical clang echoed from below. A ramp split open in the arena floor. Heavy, metallic footsteps followedâslow, measured, each one reverberating through the stone. A massive shape rose into view: a tripedal walker hauling itself upward, scarred and repurposed, its silhouette unmistakable even without a name.
One of its cannons hung bent and useless, slagged metal curling at the muzzleâbut the other barrel tracked smoothly, and a repeating blaster whined as it powered up. A droid sat rigid in the pilotâs cradle, while a horned Devaronian manned the gunnerâs seat, grinning broadly.
The commentatorâs voice boomed with manic delight. âAn incredible run, folksâtruly! Everyone here today has seen a completely unprecedented match. The scurriers gave it everything they had, but it looks like weâve reached the end of the line!â
Previous: Ch 20 / Next: Ch 22
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It was deafening. Thousands of voices layered together into a single, hungry sound: anticipation, blood-lust, delight. Synnoveaâs jaw tightened as she forced herself to breathe evenly, one slow inhale, one controlled exhale. The collar at her throat sat heavy and cold, an ever-present threat. She could feel it, waiting.
Beside her, Omega stood very still. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the shifting lights as they ran along the labyrinth walls, but her shoulders were squared in stubborn defiance. She looked small here, too small for a place like this. The sight sent a sharp, protective ache through Synnoveaâs chest. Her hand found Omegaâs shoulder without her quite realizing sheâd moved. Not to pull her backâthere was nowhere to retreatâbut to anchor them both. She craned her neck, taking in the sea of cheering bodies, the blur of faces and waving arms. Above them, unseen but sonorous, a voice cut cleanly through the noise.
âWell now,â the commentator drawled, amusement dripping from every syllable, âit appears Prince Sono Molec has outdone himself today.â The voice paused dramatically, long enough to let the audience lean in with curiosity. She felt Omega stiffen beside her. âIn a rareâand I do mean rareâtwist,â the commentator continued, âthe arena has not one, but two active targets. A bonus for our esteemed patrons. Two scurriers for the price of one! This will certainly change some of the oddsâŚâ
The roar in the stands doubled, the noise pressing down like a weight in the air they were breathing. Stomping, cheering, and calling in dozens of languages as bookies began frantically doing the math.
âCompanionship,â the voice went on lightly, âcan be such a fascinating variable. Will it inspire heroics? Or hasten disaster? Weâll find out once the fun begins. Itâs time to set the little rodents loose in the maze!â
Synnovea exhaled slowly through her nose. âStay close,â she murmured, barely moving her lips.
Above the arena floor, the viewing box overlooked the labyrinth like a predatorâs perch. The Bad Batch were wedged in a row right in front. A waist-high barrier of dark transparisteel ran along the top of the red stone walls, and just beyond it, the sheer drop to the maze below made Hunterâs stomach lurch. Embedded into the wall in front of them was a bank of screens, nearly a dozen, most dark for now, and several large holoscreens were spaced around the top of the amphitheater.
âTwo targets,â Scrist said smugly from his seat nearby, swirling something amber in a crystal glass. âLooks like your plans went sideways yet again.â
Hunter didnât look at him. âShe isnât supposed to be in there,â he gritted through his teeth.
Scrist grinned wider. âThe crowd disagrees.â
Wrecker growled, his fists clenching as if the Zygerrianâs neck were in his grasp. Next to him, in a rare loss for words, Tech was assiduously examining every centimeter of the monitors in front of them. Echo glanced over at Triage, whose eyes were stiffly tracking the two figures in the vidscreens. The commentatorâs voice boomed across the arena.
âThe hunters have been released,â he announced cheerfully. âLet the games begin!â
The maze lights flared. Hunterâs hand tightened against the transparisteel as the first passage illuminated on the screen. Somewhere in the labyrinth below, Synnovea lifted her head. There was a strange rolling, grinding, sliding noise somewhere out of sight, and she whipped to the left, clutching at Omegaâs arm. Only they werenât the ones moving.
The labyrinth was.
The floor tilted beneath their feet without warning, a slow, nauseating cant that sent Omega stumbling and Synnovea lunging to catch her. The stone-metal surface groaned, panels shifting and locking into new angles as if the maze itself were alive. Part of the wall slid into itself, revealing a new doorway, and they darted through the opening.
Then the boulders came.
Great spheres of dull gray metal dropped from recessed slots in the walls with thunderous impacts, immediately rolling as gravity reasserted itself along the newly slanted passages. The sound was immenseâgrinding, booming, echoing off the high walls until it was impossible to tell where the next one would come from.
âMove,â Synnovea snapped, already pulling Omega with her.
They ran.
Synnovea took the lead instinctively, her eyes flicking to the slope of the floor as it tilted, trying to ascertain the rhythm of the shifting panels, the timing between drops. She steered them left, then hard right, boots skidding to brace against the wall as the floor tipped them yet again. A boulder roared past the junction theyâd just cleared, missing them by a meter.
The commentatorâs voice drifted over the audience, buoyant with delight. âAhhh, such a classic obstacle, and I confess, a favorite of mine. Where any misstep has a mortal consequence. Our scurriers need to be quick, or this game could come to a quickly disappointing end.â
A hole yawned open in the floor ahead, circular and utterly black, its edges rimmed with warning lights that flickered almost too late to be useful. Omega gasped as the ground vanished beneath her next step. Synnovea caught her by the back of her tunic and snatched her sideways. The hole swallowed a boulder that appeared from around the corner instead, the impact echoing hollowly as it fell, and fellâŚand fell.
Omegaâs breath came out in a sharp sob. âIâI didnât seeââ
âYouâre fine,â Synnovea said tightly, already moving again. âEyes up. Donât trust the floor.â They threaded through a narrow passage where the walls pressed close, boulders scraping sparks as they thundered past a junction. Green exit lights flickered ahead along an opening in the walls. They were almost there. The floor leveled, making the next dash across the corridor with the nearest boulder easier. Just a little furtherâ
A sharp crack split the noise, clean and deliberate, nothing like the chaos of the room itself. Stone burst from the wall ahead of them, spraying fragments across the passage. Synnovea shoved Omega behind her as a figure stepped into view, blocking the exit. âBack. Back, back, back,â she gasped urgently, pivoting and putting words into action, her boots sliding before getting purchase.
âWell,â came a womanâs voice, smooth and amused, amplified slightly by a helmet mic. âLooks like I got here first.â
The commentator all but purred. âAnd there she is, ladies and gentlemenâZyra Helix enters the field. Heir-apparent of House Helix, arena darling, and very motivated to make a statement today.â
The Nikto stood with easy confidence, her twin pistols raised in a relaxed stance that spoke of a close familiarity with their use. Her sleek armor glinted in the bright sunlight. Synnovea felt the floor begin to sway again, tipping them toward the hunter.
âWrong way,â Zyra warned, her smile cold even in the baking heat of the arena. âYou donât want to go out this door.â She aimed at their retreating forms. âOr maybe you doâŚâ
A boulder thundered down behind them, cutting off retreat the way theyâd come.
Synnovea didnât hesitate. âRun,â she said, and pivoted sharply, dragging Omega left through the only other passage.
Blaster fire screamed past them, bolts scorching the wall inches from Omegaâs head. Zyra laughed, boots pounding after them as the floor tilted again, boulders rolling, holes yawning open in new, lethal patterns.
âLook at them scatter!â the commentator crowed. âZyra Helix in pursuitâthis is what she paid for!â
They burst through a side corridor just as another boulder crashed down between them and the exit, sparks showering the passage. The floor pitched violently, forcing them to scramble, half-running, half-sliding toward a darker opening ahead. They didnât know what was ahead, but they definitely knew what was behind them.
And they were still coming.
The second room all but blinded them.
The walls were black, the floors were black, plunging them into a false sense of darkness. Light stabbed into being the moment they crossed the threshold, thin, brilliant lines slicing the air in precise intervals. A lattice of cutting lasers swept back and forth across the chamber, some pulsing on and off, others drifting laterally like patient predators. Pillars rose from the floor without warning, only to sink again seconds later, while sections of the walls slid and locked, breaking any straight path into fragments.
Omega froze for half a heartbeat.
Synnovea didnât. She pulled Omega sharply to the left as a beam ignited where the girl had been standing, the heat close enough to prickle skin. âAll right,â she said, breathless but dry, ânew ruleâstay away from the lights.â
Omega choked back a sound. It might have been a laugh, or a groan. âYou told me this wasnât a game. So why are you joking?â
âIt keeps me from screaming,â Synnovea replied, already moving again.
They advanced in bursts, timing their movements to the rhythm of the room. When the lasers dimmed, they ran; when they flared, they flattened themselves against pillars or pressed into shallow recesses in the walls. The low hum of the machinery vibrated through Synnoveaâs boots and up her spine. The cacophony of the crowd surged, some booing, some shouting encouragements, it was hard to tell.
Halfway across, Omega spotted it.
âThere!â she hissed, pointing. A box jutted from the wall at an awkward angle, black like the walls and the floor, half-hidden behind a shifting barrier. âThatâs a control panel, I think. If I can get to it, I might be able to shut the grid down.â
Synnovea followed her line of sight, calculating the distance, the play of the beams. âMight?â
Omega flashed her a grin that was equal parts bravado and strain. âBreaking things is easier than fixing them.â
Before Synnovea could answer, a familiar voice cut through the room.
âOh, donât stop on my account.â
Zyra Helix stepped into the chamber behind them, ignoring the lasers dancing along the dark walls. Her blasters flashed brighter than the polished gleam of her distorted reflection on a mirrored pillar. The commentatorâs voice rose immediately, delighted. âAnd Helix presses the advantage! Bold entry, letâs see if confidence beats caution!â
A beam ignited inches from Zyraâs shoulder. She didnât flinch, stepping further into the room. The half-wall Synnovea and Omega squatted behind didnât offer much cover. Zyra fired, forcing them to make a mad dash forward. Blaster bolts ricocheted dangerously close to active beams, light and energy colliding in sparks that made Synnoveaâs skin crawl. For a moment, there was nowhere to go, not even to take a deep breath. Then she felt the wall next to them begin to recede. They had no choice now.
âGo,â Synnovea ordered, already turning to cover Omega.
Omega hesitated, then sprinted. She darted toward the control node, ducking under a beam as it flared to life above her, rolling across the floor as another cut across where her head had just been. Synnovea followed, heart pounding, every instinct screaming as Zyra pursued with reckless speed.
A wall section slid out abruptly, separating them. Omega skidded to a stop just short of the control boxâand a blaster bolt scorched the panel beside her head. She yelped and threw herself back around the corner.
Zyra rounded it at the same time.
Synnovea hit her from the side like a battering ram.
The impact drove them both into the wall, the metal ringing beneath their combined weight. Zyra snarled, recovering instantly, and slammed her forearm up under Synnoveaâs ribs. Immediate agony stabbed through her lungs as she staggered back a half-stepâjust enough for a laser to flare to life where her spine had been a moment before.
Heat licked across her back.
âCareful,â Zyra said fiercely, spinning and throwing a punch that Synnovea barely ducked. âYouâre not very good at this.â
Synnovea caught Zyraâs wrist, twisted, and drove an elbow into her chest. âSorry,â she grunted as Zyra kneed her thigh, âyou have no idea how much I hate disappointing people.â
They broke apart as a pillar surged up between them, forcing Synnovea to vault sideways. Zyra rolled beneath a sweeping beam and came up firing, blaster already back in her hand. Synnovea slapped the barrel aside just as it discharged, the bolt scorching a black line across the wall.
Omegaâs voice cut through the chaos. âIâmâtryingâthe lid wonât open!â
âTake your time,â Synnovea called back dryly, blocking another strike and feeling the jolt rattle up her arm. âNo pressure.â
Zyra laughed, a sharp, delighted sound. âYou hear that? She jokes. I like you.â
âI wish I could say I felt the same.â
The Nikto hunter feinted low, then snapped her bony head forward, smashing it into Synnoveaâs nose. Pain flared, white-hot and sharp. Synnovea reeled, her boots skidding as she stumbled back, and a laser ignited between them with a vicious hiss.
They were separated by inches of lethal light.
Zyra leaned in close, the heat shimmering between them. âStay still,â she growled. âThisâll be quick.â
Synnovea wiped blood from her lip with the back of her hand, eyes never leaving Zyraâs. âYouâre going to have to do better than that,â she said mildly. âIâve had worse mornings.â
The laser cut out.
Synnovea lunged at the same time. She caught Zyra mid-motion, driving her shoulder into the Nikto's chest, and slammed her back against the pillar as it began to sink. Zyra grunted, then twisted, using the motion to hook her leg around Synnoveaâs and yank. They went down hard, rolling as another beam sliced through the space where theyâd just been. They came up grappling, fists and elbows flashing. A punch caught Synnoveaâs cheekbone. She responded by ramming her forehead into Zyraâs collarbone and sweeping her leg out from under her. Zyra crashed to one knee, snarling, and came up swinging again.
Behind them, wires sparked as Omega tore into the control box. âJustâkeep herâbusy!â
âOh, I am,â Synnovea muttered, wincing as Zyraâs wild strike clouted her in the back. âBelieve me.â She kicked out, connecting with the Niktoâs stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the lasers shifting, and reached out to grab Zyraâs shoulder, trying to pull her back from the edge of the barrier. âWaitâ!â she shouted, stretchingâ
Zyra stumbled. For a split second, her expression changed, surprise flickering across her face as she realized where she was. Where she was going.
Synnoveaâs fingers brushed Zyraâs gauntlet as the lasers swept across. There was no scream, only a sharp, searing flash of light and the smell of scorched air. Synnovea staggered back, her chest heaving as she stared down at Zyraâs motionlessâŚparts. Her hand shook.
The commentatorâs voice cut in, reverent and thrilled. âAnd that will do it! Zyra is eliminated, folksâclaimed by the maze itself! Looks like House Helix will beâŚreconsidering its succession. Will our other hunters manage to bag their prey, or will they face the same downfall?â
Omegaâs hands shook as she yanked free a bundle of sparking wires. The lasers flickered, stuttered, then went out. Out of sight, she shouted, triumphant and breathless, âI did it!â
The lattice went dark all at once, plunging the room into a merciful dimness weakly contested by the running lights that now appeared along the base of the walls. Synnovea closed her eyes for a heartbeatâjust long enough to swallow the ache in her throatâthen turned as Omega came around the wall a little battered and bruised but still standing. âGood job,â she said quietly to Omega after a moment. Her body blocked the pieces of Nikto barely visible in the newly darkened room. âCome on. We should keep moving.â
Above them, the crowd screamed its approval, and the maze shifted again, eager for the next kill.
The vidscreens along the waist-high wall flickered as the laser room powered down. Hunter leaned with his hands braced on the edge of the railing, his eyes locked on the feed as med-droids hurried in to clear what remained of the fallen hunter. Tech adjusted the angle of one screen with a dial, pulling up a slow-motion replay of the last few secondsâSynnoveaâs outstretched hand, the impossible timing, the sudden empty space where Zyra Helix had been. For a long moment, none of the clones spoke.
âShe tried to save her,â Echo said quietly after the second replay.
âYeah,â Wrecker muttered, lifting both manacled wrists to scratch the side of his head. âThat was nice of her.â
Triage snorted, his gaze never leaving the image. âThat was dumb. She was there to kill them.â
âNot everything has to end in killing each other,â Echo retorted sharply.
Behind them, Scrist was speaking in a low, oily voice to Xirn, one hand gesturing vaguely toward the screens as if this were all just a numbers game. âThe odds are recalculating,â he said. âOne hunter down already. Unexpected, but hardly decisive. The labyrinth favors attrition.â
Xirn hummed, distracted, his eyes flicking between the displays. âYet see how breathless the scurrier is already.â He smiled thinly, the folds of his face contorting in an unappealing fashion.
Hunter grunted. âWe need to keep it down, or else that blasted furry freak will zap us all again.â
Wrecker leaned back in his chair, a dark chuckle rumbling out of him. âDonât worry,â he said, glancing sideways at Scrist, âthey can only zap one of us at a time.â
âIs that so?â Scrist sneered. He twisted the dial on his forearm and pressed the button again. Current surged through all five shock collars at once. The box filled with the sound of bodies jerking against restraints and the sharp, involuntary groans of pain. Hunterâs teeth clenched; Echo bowed his head, fists tight. Even Triage sucked in a breath through his teeth as the shock ripped through him, muscles locking before he slumped back against the chair.
The current cut out.
âWrecker,â Tech gasped as they struggled to regain their breath, âplease stop talking.â He tipped forward, hanging his head.
âOr just use bigger words so this big-eared bantha-brain canât understand you,â Triage added hoarsely, forcing a crooked grin as he leaned back.
Scrist glowered and rose, reaching for the whip at his side.
Xirn caught his wrist without looking away from the screens. âThatâs my property,â he said calmly, slowly tugging Scrist back into his seat, ânot yours. And I need him in good condition if heâs to be fit for trading.â
Scrist scoffed. âYouâre dreaming if you think sheâs going to survive the labyrinth. Even without the Princeâs toys, there are still hunters roaming free. She canât win.â
Xirnâs smile was slow and unpleasant. âThat,â he said, voice smooth as silk, âis where you are mistaken, Master Scrist. Synnovea can endure a⌠remarkable amount of damage.â Hunterâs jaw tightened at the phrasing. Xirn leaned closer to the railing, his eyes gleaming as the screens shifted to the next corridor.
âThis place wonât break her,â he added softly. âBut it is fascinating to watch the struggle.â
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The guards came for them at first light, but none of them had slept anyway. Synnoveaâs weary tread had become just another background noise, like the occasional cries in languages none of them understood that echoed down the hall and were swiftly silenced. She turned now, hands loose at her sides, her chin up and clear of the cold metal that encircled her neck. The others had gone quiet one by one as the night dragged inexorably on.
The door hissed open smoothly, admitting pairs of boots that scraped across the threshold. A Zygerrian voice cut through the dim.
âUp. All of you.â
The men rose as one, binders clinking softly, standing in a silent row. Synnovea lifted her head, the chain rustling as she stepped forward. One of the guards frowned, counting again as they stepped into the brighter light from the hallway. His eyes slid past Synnovea, then back, ears flicking in annoyance.
âWhereâs the girl?â
The question landed heavy in the room. Hunter didnât move. Neither did Echo. Wreckerâs jaw tightened, just a fraction, before he forced it loose again. Tech studied the wall as if the question hadnât been asked at all. Synnovea looked at the guard.
âWhat girl?â she asked quietly.
The guardâs nostrils flared. His gaze sharpened, suspicion flickering as he stepped closer. The other Zygerrian shifted behind him, hand dropping to his shock prod. âThere was a girl in this cell,â the guard said slowly. âBlond. Small.â
Synnovea met his eyes and held them. She didnât reach outward so much as open somethingâjust a hairline crack. A suggestion folded gently into certainty. An idea that slid sideways rather than pushing through.
Youâre mistaken.
You counted wrong.
There were only ever five.
Five.
âWhat girl?â
Get them moving.
There were five.
Five of them.
Five.
The guardâs pupils dilated.
The collar screamed.
Stinging agony slammed into her nervous system, a lightning strike straight down her spine. Synnovea gasped and dropped to her knees, her hands braced against the floor as the shock tore through her and her vision blew out to static. She tasted copper running around the inside of her mouth.
âHey!â one of the guards barked. âWhat was that?â The first guard staggered back a step, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. His expression had gone oddly blank, annoyance replacing suspicion. âHer collar just went off.â
Synnovea sucked in air through clenched teeth, forcing herself not to scream. She bowed her head, shoulders tremblingânot in fear, but in careful, deliberate control.
âYeah, itâs been doing that all night,â Hunter snapped suddenly, loud and aggravated, like a man who had long since run out of patience. âRandom surges. Youâd think with how much Scrist brags about his systems, they wouldnât short every time someone breathes wrong.â
Echo scoffed. âIf this is another one of his little jokes, itâs not funny.â
Wrecker shrugged his bulky shoulders, rattling his binders restlessly. âEither that or you guys got real bad equipment.â
Tech finally looked over, peering at the collar with clinical disapproval. âThe discharge pattern is inconsistent with intentional activation, which would indicate a faulty regulator.â
The guard grimaced, clearly uninterested in statistics. He shot Synnovea an annoyed look as she sat back heavily on her heels. âGet her on her feet,â he muttered. âI donât have time for this.â
His gaze flicked over them again, counting automatically this time.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
No girl.
What girl?
For the briefest instant, confusion ghosted across his faceâan echo of a thought he could no longer quite remember having. Then it was gone. He scowled, irritated more with himself than anything else. âMove,â he snapped, jerking his head toward the corridor.
They were driven hard through the Nest, down corridors that sloped and twisted until Hunterâs sense of direction gave up entirely. The passages narrowed, then widened, then narrowed again, deliberately disorienting, the stone underfoot worn smooth by hundreds of bodies being pushed like livestock. The roar theyâd been hearing all along grew louder with every turn, no longer a distant hum but a living thing, swelling and receding like the pounding surf at the oceanâs edge.
Then the passage opened.
Light hit them firstâhot, brutal daylight pouring in from above. The guards shoved them forward, out of the narrow throat of the corridor and into open air so abruptly that Hunter had to blink against the sting. Heat rolled over them in waves, carrying the smell of dust, metal, and too many bodies packed too close together. The sound hit next: thousands of voices layered together, shouting, laughing, baying for blood.
They were shoved forward into a raised viewing box carved directly into the red stone. A waist-high wall ran along the front of it, the top smooth and worn, dropping away sharply on the far side into the heart of the labyrinth. The structure rose fifteen feet below themâmassive stone corridors and walls arranged in brutal geometry, forming a maze so dense and high it swallowed light in its depths.
Hunterâs stomach tightened. Behind them, rows of seats stretched upward, tier after tier, still mostly empty but already filling fast. Vendors shouted. People jostled. The atmosphere buzzed with anticipation, like the moment before a detonation. Mounted along the walls of the box was a bank of wide screens, currently all dark. Hunter didnât doubt theyâd light up soonâwindows into other parts of the maze, so the audience could savor every second of the hunt.
They were forced into the front row of seats, binders tugged tight, collars cold and heavy against their throats. Wrecker gave a low, unhappy grunt as he was shoved down. Echo scanned the edge of the retaining wall and the large open space in the labyrinth directly below the viewing box. Techâs jaw was set, his sharp eyes already tracking the architecture, the distance to the one exit, the mechanisms built into the walls.
Two familiar figures were already there. Scrist lounged near the corner of the box, sprawled comfortably in his seat like this was a private showing arranged just for him. Beside him, Xirn Vulgo reclined with predatory ease, one long leg crossed over the other. Between them sat a small table bearing a bottle of something dark and expensive-looking, two glasses catching the light. Xirn lifted one in a lazy salute as they were all shoved into place, his black eyes bright with amusement.
âThis is a good view,â Scrist drawled. âFront row. You should feel honored.â Hunter didnât respond. His attention had snagged on something elseâsomeone elseâat the far end of the row.
A clone sat there alone.
He was bound like the rest of them, wrist binders secured tight, a shock collar snug around his neck. He wasnât wearing GAR armor or even remnants of a uniform. Instead, he was dressed like the mercs and bounty hunters Hunter had seen drifting through Ord Mantellâpractical layers, scuffed boots, gear worn thin by use. His posture was loose, deceptively relaxed, shoulders back against the seat as if he were waiting for a late transport instead ofâŚthis.
His hair was longer than regulation, the top portion pulled back into a short tie, the rest brushing his collar. A thin beard shadowed his jaw, uneven, like heâd stopped caring about it weeks ago.
Then Hunter saw the scar.
It was thick and smooth, starting along the right side of the cloneâs jaw. It cut cleanly through the beard line, a pale, raised track that caught the edge of his mouth, ran down his throat and vanished beneath the collar. Whatever did that must have hurt like hell.
The clone noticed them staring and glanced over, one eyebrow lifting faintly. His mouth twitched. âDidnât realize this was a party,â he said mildly.
Scrist didnât even look at him when he pressed the control on his wrist. The clone jerked sharply as the collar discharged, breath hissing through his teeth. He rode it out without a sound, shoulders tensing, then relaxed again once the current cut.
When he looked back at Scrist, his smile was fierce. âYou wouldnât be so brave without that little wristband,â he panted. âBut heyâwhatever helps you feel important.â Scristâs lip curled, but he didnât shock him again. Not yet. The clone leaned back in his seat, his eyes half-lidded as the crowd noise swelled around them, as if bored of it all. âSo,â he drawled, glancing sidelong at the Batch, âyou boys get lost on the way to your own execution, or is this the new recruitment pitch?â
Wrecker chortled. âRecruitment pitch. Good one!â
Hunter exchanged a glance with Echo. Tech leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed, something clicking into place behind them.
âIs your name,â Tech asked carefully, âTriage?â
The clone stiffened. Not much. Just enough that someone who knew what to look for would see it. He turned fully toward them now, studying their faces one by one. âWhoâs asking?â he said, his voice suddenly alert. âAnd how do you know that name?â
Hunter leaned in as much as the binders allowed. âWeâre here to get you out.â
That earned him a soft snort. âSure, you are. And Iâm the Emperor.â The clone shifted his wrists against the binders, testing them with absent curiosity. âLet me guessâyouâve got a plan that involves violence, luck, and things going horribly wrong.â
Hunterâs jaw tightened. âWe wouldnât even be here,â he said irascibly, âif it wasnât for your old commander.â
The effect was immediate.
The clone went stock-still, breath caught halfway in, his eyes flicking up to Hunterâs face with sharp, searching intensity. The humor drained from his expression like someone had pulled a plug. He didnât speak right away, and for a moment the din of the arena seemed to recede around them.
âMyââ His voice came out rougher than before. He cleared his throat. âYouâre saying she sent you?â
âNo,â Hunter replied evenly. âShe came herself.â
Again that pocket of silence, even as the crowd reacted to the sound of a horn blasting, growing even louder. Triage looked away, staring out over the stone labyrinth below. His shoulders rose and fell once with his breathing. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter, stripped of its edge.
ââŚHuh.â
He didnât say anything else, but Hunter couldnât help puzzling over what would make him surprised that one of his previous officers would come looking for him. Whatever the reason, their presenceâand hersâwas something Triage hadnât expected.
Scristâs voice cut into his musings. âHold it.â The Zygerrian leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowing as he counted the row again. His lip curled. âWeâre missing one.â Hunterâs pulse spiked. âThe girl,â Scrist snapped. âWhere is she?â Silence flowed in a tense ribbon that coiled around the seated figures. Scrist stood abruptly, his tail lashing about him in fury. âDonât play games with me. Where isââ
âOh,â Wrecker interrupted, squinting past the railing. âThere she is.â He pointed.
Hunterâs head snapped around. The sealed dome at the edge of the arena had already begun to split apart, the stone plates retracting with a thunderous grind. Sunlight spilled onto the circle of polished red rockâand with it, two figures were revealed.
Omega.
Standing beside Synnovea.
Scrist stared, for once at a loss for words. Hunterâs breath left him in a rush, a phantom gut punch.
And beside him, Triage went rigid all over again as the crowd erupted.
The roar of the crowd pressed down from above like a stormfront. The dome was barely litâjust a ring of recessed lights set low along the base of the curved wall, throwing pale bands across the floor and leaving the upper reaches swathed in shadow. It felt less like a room than the inside of something huge with closed jaws. Synnovea stood at the center of it, wrists free at last, collar still cold and heavy against her throat. She rolled her shoulders once, then again, forcing tension out of muscles that had been locked tight for too long. Breathe. Stay sharp. Stay moving. The hum of the collar sat beneath her skin like a live wire, reminding her that too much calm would be punished just as surely as panic.
She was steadying herself when a sound cut through the quiet. A scrape. Soft. Synnovea pivoted instantly, every instinct snapping to attention as she planted her stance. Her eyes tracked the floor, the shadows between the lightsâ
One of the narrow panels near the wall shifted. The panel lifted just enough for fingers to curl over the edge. Then a hand. An arm. A familiar shock of blond hair appeared, plastered damply to a forehead. Omega wriggled up and out of the opening, scrambling onto the floor with a soft thud.
For a heartbeat, Synnovea couldnât move. Then everything hit her at once.
âWhatââ She crossed the distance in three strides, voice breaking sharp and furious. âWhat are you doing here?â
Omega straightened, mud-streaked and out of breath and utterly, infuriatingly relaxed for someone who just popped out of a pipe. âHi,â she blurted out.
Synnovea rounded on her, all the words spilling out in a rush she couldnât stop. âWe got you out. Do you have any idea what it took to get you out? This placeâthis arenaâOmega, this is the most dangerous place on Kowak, you canât justââ
âI wasnât going to let you do this alone,â Omega said calmly.
Synnovea stopped short, breath catching. âYou were supposed to run,â she said, more quietly now, anger curdling into something rawer. âYou were supposed to find the others. Your brothers.â
âI thought about it,â Omega replied. She met Synnoveaâs eyes without flinching. âBut they have each other.â
âThis is not a game, Omegaââ Synnovea looked away in frustration, pressing her fists to her lips. âThis place will kill you,â she said, forcing her voice steady again. âPeople die here. Even trained fighters. Evenââ She swallowed. âYou could die.â
Omegaâs mouth twitched, stubborn as ever. âWeâre not that easy to kill.â
For a long moment, Synnovea simply stared at her. Then she exhaled, sharp and resigned, and nodded once. âFine. You stay with me.â Her tone snapped into command without thinking. âYou do exactly what I say. When I say it. No arguing.â
Omega gave a small, fierce grin. âDeal.â
The dome shuddered.
A deep crack echoed overhead as hidden mechanisms engaged. The curved stone ceiling above them began to split apart, retracting inch by inch. Light poured down in widening seams, and with it came the soundâthe full, thunderous roar of the crowd, no longer muffled, no longer distant.
Omega glanced up, eyes wide. âSo,â she shouted over the noise, âwhatâs the plan?â
Synnovea watched the opening widen, the first glimpse of towering walls and shifting corridors beyond. She felt the weight of every gaze settling on her, felt the collar hum in anticipation. âOriginally,â she admitted, voice calm despite the pounding of her heart, âthe plan was just to survive as long as possible.â She looked down at Omega, then back out at the arena, lips curving into a dangerous smirk. âAlmost everyone out there has bet that I wonât make it out of this alive,â she added casually.
Her eyes met Omegaâs again, steady and bright.
âLetâs go make a lot of people lose money.â
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The tunnel was too narrow in which to turn around. The cold, greasy water flowed beneath her like something alive. It crept up her sleeves, soaked into the knees of her pants, pressed against her ribs with every shallow breath. The smell was worse than sheâd imaginedârot and metal and something sharp that burned the back of her throat. And the consistency wasâŚirregular.
Donât think about whatâs in it, she told herself. Donât think about whatâs touching you.
She kept her chin lifted just enough to keep her mouth above the surface. Her fingers slid on slime-coated stone and she slipped, catching only after she dug her nails in.
âFlow direction stays consistent,â she whispered under her breath, barely louder than the trickle of water. âSlight downward gradient⌠follow the current, blah blah blahâŚâ She let Techâs rambling instructions fill her head, giving her something to concentrate on.
The tunnel narrowed. The walls pressed closer. The top of her head started scraping the stone ceiling, and her shoulders brushed both sides. Her breath caught, sudden and sharp, her chest tightening as panic flared hot. Too small. Itâs too smallâ
She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to keep moving. âYou can do this,â she whispered, her voice shaking but determined. âYou can.â The tunnel sloped more steeply now, the water tugging harder at her legs as she followed it downward. She remembered Techâs warning, the way his voice had sharpened just slightly.
There should be a slight drop. Approximately two meters. Possibly more, depending on erosion of the waterway.
Her fingers found nothing but empty air.
Omega yelped as the ground vanished beneath her and she pitched forward, plunging into the dark. Cold disgusting water closed over her head, swallowing her cry, the shock of it driving the air from her lungs in a painful rush. For one terrifying second, she didnât know which way was up.
Her arms flailed in the binders, striking stone, then nothing, panic roaring in her ears louder than the rushing water. Her chest burned, her throat spasming as she kicked hard, desperateâ
She broke the surface with a gasp, coughing violently as she sucked in air that tasted foul but at the moment felt more precious than anything. Water streamed down her face and into her eyes as she clawed at the edge of the drop, dragging herself upright, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might tear free of her ribs. She hunched there for a moment, shaking, water dripping from her hair and lashes.
âIâm okay,â she told the dark, her voice hoarse. âIâm okay.â
Hunterâs voice surfaced then, steady and sure, cutting through the fear like the blade he favored.
Youâre one of the squad.
She swallowed, forcing the tight knot in her chest to loosen.
And that makes you more than a match for anything.
Omega set her jaw and pushed forward again. The tunnel enlarged slightly after the drop, just enough for her to stand if she ducked a little. As she carefully waded through the deeper water, the current tugged at her calves, pulling insistently toward a bend ahead. She rounded itâand froze.
The tunnel split.
Two passages branched away from each other, both narrow, both equally dark, both carrying the water in opposite directions. She stood there, staring doubtfully at first one, then the other. Tech had said something about this. She knew he had. Her mind scrambled, sifting through his words, trying to separate panic from memory.
Left⌠or right?
Omega closed her eyes and drew a nervous breath, trying to remember.
Synnovea sat with her back ramrod straight, ankles crossed, hands resting loosely in her lap. She breathed in, in her mind drawing the air all the way from her tailbone. Slow. The way Master Rancisis had taught the padawans, long before sheâd ever held a lightsaber. Before the violence of the war, before the weight of command had settled into her bones. She reached inward, brushing the familiar stillness beneath thought, beneath fear. There. Flowing outward likeâ
The collar snapped to life.
Pain arced white-hot across her nerves, stealing her breath in a sharp, involuntary gasp. Her hands clenched, fingers digging into the floor as the current bit down hard and fast, then cut out just as abruptly. Panting slightly, she impatiently shoved a wayward strand of hair out of her face.
âWell,â Wrecker muttered after watching all of that. âThatâs new.â None of the Zygerrians were even in the room to press a button.
She tried again. This time, she was more careful. Resettling in place, she smoothed her palms back and forth over her thighs. Dark lashes brushed her cheeks as she shuttered her eyes. Her breathing became even, deep, and she felt the cool ripples of the Force hovering just out of reach like a word on the tip of her tongue.
As if in retaliation, the metal ring around her neck flared even brighter than before. A guttteral sound crawled out from her throat. Synnovea sucked in air through clenched teeth and forced herself not to curl inward. She lifted her head, jaw tight, eyes blazing as her muscles trembled and spasmed.
A click echoed overhead, followed by the crackle of the intercom. Scristâs voice slid into the cell, oily smooth with satisfaction. âAh. Still trying, are you?â
Synnovea didnât answer. Her hand rose to rub roughly at her temples, easing the throbbing pain that had begun in her skull.
âWe installed the upgraded model just for you,â Scrist continued, smug as a man showing off a clever invention. âHeart rate. Respiration. You Jedi are very predictable creaturesâso fond of slowing yourselves down.â
Tech stiffened at his words. âYouâre punishing the engagement of the parasympathetic nervous system,â he said flatly.
Scrist laughed, a scratchy purr that scraped at the ears. âExactly. When your vitals dip too lowâwhen you become too calmâthe collar administers a corrective current.â He paused for effect. âThink of it asâŚpractice for the arena.â
Synnovea closed her eyes as another low pulse rippled through the collarânot enough to shock her, just enough to remind her it was waiting.
âSo,â Scrist went on, voice bright, âby all meansâmeditate. Focus. Relax.â The intercom clicked off.
âCowardly little sleemo,â Echo muttered.
Hunter exhaled slowly through his nose. âFigures,â he said quietly. âYouâve got power they donât, so they rig the board.â
âZygerrians,â Echo added, his voice full of edges like ground glass. âItâs not like theyâre known for playing fair.â
Synnovea opened her eyes.
She didnât try again. Instead, she rose to her feet and began to pace, the chain at her ankle clanking softly with each step. Back and forth. Back and forth. She kept her breathing uneven on purpose. Sharp inhales followed by shallow exhales. âIâm sorry,â she said suddenly.
They all looked at her.
âFor what?â Wrecker asked.
She shook her head once. âFor this. For dragging all of you into it.â She stopped pacing and turned to face them. âNone of you would be here if I hadnât insisted on coming to Kowak.â
Hunter met her gaze, steady as ever. âThatâs not on you. We made the choice to come along.â
âThat makes it even worse,â she said, then snorted. âMy master always said, âno good deed goes unpunishedâ.â The collarâs faint whine ebbed to a hum as she shifted her breathing again. She jumped up and down in place for a few moments. Just to keep moving, to keep the heart pumping. âTheyâre counting on me panicking,â she said softly. âAnd falling into despair.â
Echo snorted. âWell, yeah. I mean, who wants to die.â
âYes,â she agreed. Then, after a moment, âI once made the mistake of being surprised by the virtues of survival.â
That drew Hunterâs attention. Not the words, but the way she said them, wistful, almost amused.
âIt was late in the war,â she went on. âOur field hospital was down to using stimpacks in place of neuro-stimulators, and clean water was getting harder to find. One trooper came in aloneâburns over a third of his body, spiral fracture in his leg, shrapnel still embedded where his pauldron had broken. Heâd been cut off from the main body for nearly a week.â
Her gaze unfocused, fixed on something long gone. âI remember thinking it was remarkable. The kilometers he had to cross. The injuries he sustained along the way.â A faint crease touched her brow. âI said as much.â A ghost of a smile flickered across her face, gone the next instant. âTriage didnât even look up from wrapping the leg. Just said, âThatâs what happens when you leave someone no way out.ââ
Wrecker frowned. âThe kark does that mean?â
Her voice softened, almost unconsciously. âHe told me, âThe will to live isnât noble. It isnât clean. It doesnât care about the odds. You corner a living thing long enough, and it will tear the fabric of the world apart just to breathe for one more minute.ââ Her eyes drifted to the door. To the corridor beyond it. To the arena waiting somewhere in the dark.
âItâs something the Zygerrians misunderstand,â she said. âThey think taking everything away makes people smaller.â Her jaw set. âBut sometimes it does the opposite.
âThatâs what this is,â she said. âTheyâre not just trying to kill me in that arena. Theyâre trying to make me panic. Make me desperate. Make me lose control.â Her hand brushed the collar at her throat. âBecause a Jedi who canât be calm is just another helpless prey. A frightened mouse running through their maze.â
Silence settled again, heavier than before. Then Hunter nodded. âSo donât give them that.â
Synnoveaâs lips pressed into a thin line. âNo,â she agreed as she kicked a smudge on the wall, imagining Scristâs face. âI wonât.â
Omega forced her legs to keep moving.
The water thickened here, sluggish and oily, tugging at her knees as if it wanted to keep her. She clung to Techâs directions, repeating them in the hollow dimness of the tunnel. âLeft at the junction,â she muttered. âFollow the current. Water moves downhill.â She hated that her voice shook, even now. Well, at least there was no one else to hear it.
There was no one else to hear it.
The walls forked without warning, and for one awful moment she froze, letting out a startled squeal as her collar blinked several times, then faded, plunging her into almost total darkness. She tipped her head and listened. The faintest pull against her calves told her which way the water wanted to go.
âOkay,â she whispered. âYouâve got this.â
She took the left. The tunnel narrowed again, then dropped away so suddenly that the world vanished beneath her. She yelped as the floor disappeared, water swallowing her whole in a cold, choking rush. She went under, flailing, boots scraping nothing but slick stone, panic clawing its way up her throatâ
Keep going. Donât look back.
She burst back to the surface sputtering, hair plastered to her face, lungs burning. For a second she just bobbed there, gasping, fingers digging into the slime-coated wall while her heart tried to tear itself free of her ribs. Hunterâs voice came back to her, steady as ever.
Youâre one of the squad.
Omega swallowed hard and pushed on.
The air changed first. Then she heard insects, leaves rustling. Her chest hitched. She crawled faster, ignoring the ache in her wrists and the trembling in her legs. The tunnel widened, light bleeding in through slotted cracks ahead, and then it ended all at onceâspitting her out into mud and ferns and rain-slick leaves.
She tumbled forward with a startled cry, landing hard and rolling, coming up on her hands and knees in the undergrowth. Water sluiced over her as she scrambled upright, washing some of the stink of the cell and the sewer away in one messy, accidental blessing. She laughed, sharp and almost hysterical, and clapped a hand over her mouth as a chorus of curious chittering erupted nearby. Monkey lizards scattered through the brush, eyes flashing, tails flicking as they retreated to the branches above.
Omega sucked in a deep, shaking breath and looked up through the trees. Stars. Real ones, in the night sky. For a moment, just a moment, her knees threatened to buckle in exhaustion and relief. But she wiped her face with the heel of her hand. Relief could come later.
Pulling her boots from the quagmire, she plunged into the jungle.
Synnovea didnât stop moving.
She couldnât, really. First she paced, then she began walking backwards just to switch things up, stretching her legs until the muscles burned. When that wasnât enough, she dropped to the floor and planked, the exertion keeping her pulse just high enough to avoid the collarâs bite. Sweat darkened her tunic along her spine. Her arms trembled, but she welcomed the strain. Pain was preferable to stillness.
Stillness got you shocked.
âThis is useless,â Wrecker muttered at last, frustration roughening his voice. âAn arena weâve never seen, traps we donât know, rules we donât get to hear until theyâre already killinâ us.â
âWe can attempt to formulate a strategy,â Tech said, though his tone was dubious. âBut without schematics or reconnaissance, any approach would be, at best, speculative.â
Echo snorted. âThatâs a polite way of saying weâre blindfolded and tied to a chair.â
Synnovea pushed herself back to her feet, breathing hard. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and leaned briefly against the wall, chest rising and falling. âIt doesnât matter,â she said quietly.
They all looked at her.
âI would rather spend the rest of my life in the arena,â she went on, voice steady despite the effort it cost her, âthan be alone in a room with Xirn Vulgo again.â
Hunter straightened slowly. âYou knew him. As a child,â he saidânot a question.
She nodded once.
No one pressed her at first. The silence that followed was careful, edged with restraint, as if they all sensed there were doors you didnât kick in without consequences.
Finally, Echo spoke, voice low. âHow bad?â
Synnoveaâs gaze drifted, unfocused, fixing on nothing in the room. Her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides. âHe wasâŚâ She exhaled through her nose, searching for language that wouldnât give him more power than he already had. âHeâs what you get when cruelty learns patience, when longevity twists your boredom. When fear is not a means to get what you want, but the goal.â
She resumed movingâslow stretches now, rolling her shoulders, forcing circulation back into tense muscles. âXirn doesnât like to rush things. Most long-lived races donât. But from what I understand, Xirn isâŚaberrant even by his own peopleâs standards. Nothing makes him happier than the prospect of breaking someone. Itâs just a matter of finding what breaks a person.â
Wreckerâs jaw tightened. Tech went still. Hunter felt his hands curl into fists, gladder than ever that Omega wasnât there anymore. She looked up, blinking as if waking from a dream, and for a moment something raw flickered behind her eyes. Not fear. Resolve.
âItâs nearly dawn,â Hunter said quietly. No one questioned him, or asked how he knew, deep underground, that the sun was ready to crest the horizon.
âI survived him once,â she went on, her weary voice ironed flat by will alone. âI doubt Iâll survive him twice.â
She met their gazes one by one, her expression set with grim finality.
âNo matter what happens in that arena,â Synnovea said, âI will not fall into Xirnâs tender mercies again.â
Omega broke through the last curtain of vines and broad-leafed ferns and nearly fell flat on her face.
She caught herself on a tree trunk slick with moss, her legs shaking so badly she had to brace her forearms against the bark to stay upright. The jungle air was thick and alive, buzzing with insects, heavy with damp heat and the sharp green smell of crushed leaves. For a moment she could only stand there and breathe, gulping air like it might vanish if she didnât take enough of it fast enough.
A chittering refrain erupted behind her. Omega flinched, spinningâthen let out a shaky laugh as a cluster of monkey-lizards poured into view, assembling themselves on branches and rocks and the wing of the Marauder where it loomed between the trees. Their heads were cocked, their eyes fixed on her with frank curiosity.
âI know,â she whispered hoarsely, wiping at her dirty face with the back of an even dirtier hand. âIâm a mess.â
The Marauderâs ramp loomed ahead. She staggered up the steps and nearly collapsed inside, dragging herself forward on hands and knees until the smooth durasteel floor met her palms
âArEx,â she croaked.
The astromech let out a sharp, panicked cascade of beeps, its dome swiveling wildly as it rolled toward her. A manipulator arm extended at once, hovering uncertainly over the binders at her wrists and the collar at her throat, as if afraid to hurt her. Gonky wobbled over, tipping dangerously in its concern.
âIâm okay,â Omega said quickly, even as her voice cracked. âI meanâ Iâm not, butâlisten.â
She forced herself upright into a sitting position, her back against a crate, drawing her knees in. As she spoke, the words came out fast and tangled, like if she stopped theyâd catch up to her and crush her. âThey took them,â she said. âThe Zygerrians. Synnovea too. Thereâs an arena andâ and a man named Xirn and itâs bad, ArEx, itâs really bad, and they sent me out because I was the only one who fit and becauseââ
Krrrrrjshhhhk. The droid didnât wait for her to finish. A cutter hummed softly, slicing through the binders at her wrists. They fell away with a dull clatter. Another arm adjusted delicately at her collar, sensors flickering as it found the release point. A precise spark, a clickâand the collar dropped into her lap, inert. Omega sucked in a breath she hadnât realized she was holding.
ArEx beeped again, lower this time, questioning. Dink-dink-vroobi? Its receptor lights flashed anxiously.
âI know,â she said, swallowing hard. She scrubbed her face with both hands, smearing dirt and tears together. âI know Iâm supposed to stay safe. I know.â
She met the droidâs unblinking photoreceptor, her jaw setting.
âArEx, I need you to send a distress signal to Declan,â she said. âYavin IV. Priority one.â
The droid hesitated, giving a soft, uncertain warble. Waaah-doot?
âMe?â Omega straightened, her shoulders squaring despite the fear tugging at her senses. âIâm going back for my brothers.â
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âGet some sleepâŚif you can. Tomorrowâs a busy day.â
The hydraulic sigh of the door closing echoed in the brittle stillness of the room.
Hunter broke the frozen tableau first, his palm flat and chopping through the air. âWe strike out when they come back.â It wasnât a suggestion. It was instinct, a verbal expression of the adrenaline running through his veins, every synapse sparking until movement was the only answer.
Echo shook his head immediately. âThey wonât come back in alone. Not after all that.â
âThey might,â Wrecker growled. He twisted his wrists against the restraints. âThat ugly guy loves his speeches.â
âAnd Zygerrians love their contingencies,â Tech added. He was already crouched again, lenses flickering amber in the recessed lighting as he examined the door frame, the emitters embedded in the walls. âAt minimum, there will be external overrides, ray shields, and likely a kill-switch protocol tied to the collars that would deliver a lethal dose of electricity.â He stood. âIf we werenât actively trying to leave the facility, I would almost be impressed.â
âSave your admiration,â Echo snapped, crossing his arms. âIâve seen enough of this place to last a lifetime.â
Hunter had begun to pace but stopped abruptly. âSo we draw them inâone of us can fake an illness, somethingâthen bottleneck them at the door.â He resumed stalking around the room. âWe can take one of them hostage if we need to.â
âNot a reliable source of leverage. And judging by the security system, they donât like taking chances,â Tech added, already scanning the door frame again. âAfter what theyâve revealed about their plans for us, theyâll increase security, not reduce itâŚâ
ââthen we take out the guards,â Wrecker interrupted promptly. âAll of them.â
âNot everything can be overcome with punches, Wreckerââ
Wrecker surged forward, chest-to-chest now with his slender brother. âYou saying I canât break a Zygerrian?â
âIâm saying breaking one doesnât matter if twenty more are waiting,â Tech fired back in a tight voice. âBesides, that doesnât take into account the shock collars.â
Hunter rounded on him. âI notice you donât have a better idea.â
âNot yet,â Tech admitted. âBut we need a plan.â
Wrecker gave a humorless laugh. âWe are planning.â
âArguing isnât planning,â Tech shot back sternly. âIf you would perhaps let wiser heads prevailâŚâ
Wrecker took a step forward, binders clinking loudly. âSay that again,â he thundered.
For a moment, they all seemed to be talking at onceâideas ricocheting through the room, each one born sharp and confident, only to collapse under its own weight of flaws.
Rush the guards.
Trigger a riot among the other slaves.
Sabotage the lighting and electrocute everyone.
Flood the lower levels, driving everyone to the surface.
Every plan ended the same way.
Too many variables.
Too little resources.
No time.
Hunter rubbed his hair agitatedly. âEnough.â He braced his hands against the wall, lowering his head. âWe donât have time for this.â
Synnovea hadnât said a word during this conversation. She stood near the far wall, slightly apart from the others, her posture composed enough to pass for calm if one didnât look too closely. Her hands were folded loosely in front of her, but her attention was elsewhereâfixed low, near the floor.
A narrow grating nestled in a recessed part of the base of the wall, rusted and uneven, just above a sluggish trickle of green-black runoff that crept the length of the room in a narrow trough. It smelled faintly metallic, pungently organic. Waste water. Drainage. Something the facility didnât care enough about to properly hide, not when they didnât even bother with plumbing for the processing chambers.
Hunter noticed her stillness and felt a flicker of unease. Any plan of Synnoveaâs tended to have more than its fair share of problems. âYouâve got something,â he stated.
She didnât answer. Echo followed her line of sight, his brow furrowing when they rested on the grating. âThatâs just a drain.â
Tech stepped closer, leaning down to inspect it. âA tertiary runoff channel,â he murmured. âFairly shallow. Most likely it connects to a broader waste system beneath the city.â
Wrecker made a face. âYecchh.â
âThat isnât a way out,â Echo said definitively. âItâs too small.â
Synnovea finally spoke. âNot for us,â she demurred.
All heads jerked in her direction. Hunter stared. âWhat?â
She lifted her chin slightly, indicating the grille once more. âThat is, not for all of us.â
Understanding moved through the room in slow, terrible increments. Omegaâs breath caught caught as the room stilled.
âNo,â she said immediately, stepping back as if the words themselves had burned her. âNo. Thatâs notââ
Wrecker turned toward her, his confusion giving way to an apologetic sadness. âKidâŚâ he rumbled, his voice unusually soft.
Synnovea knelt in front of the grating, her fingers hovering just above the corroded metal. âIt will be unpleasant,â she said gently to the girl. âSlow in places. Youâll need to follow the current until it widens. From there continue downstream. Youâll eventually come out beyond the city perimeter.â
Omega shook her head violently. âNo. Iâm not doing that.â Her tone was final, her expression defiant.
âYouâll reach the jungle,â Synnovea continued softly, as if Omega hadnât spoken. âFrom there, you can make your way back to the Marauder. ArEx will help you. Have him plot a course to Yavin IV and send a distress callââ
âI said no!â Omega shouted. Her voice cracked through the room, raw and desperate. She surged forward, grabbing Wreckerâs arm, then spinning to clutch at Echoâs. âYou canât justâjust decide this! Weâre supposed to stick together!â
Wrecker swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes.
Echo looked away.
Tech went very still.
The silence that met her fury was unbearable. Omegaâs chest heaved, struggling through a tightness that crept up her throat. âHunter,â she pleaded, turning to him. âHunter, tell them this is stupid. Tell them weâll figure something else out.â
Hunter knelt slowly, every movement deliberate, like he was afraid a sudden motion might shatter her completely. He placed a hand on her shoulder, steady and warm.
âOmega,â he began quietly.
She looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. âPlease,â she choked out.
He held her gaze, his jaw tight, voice roughened by emotion. âOmega, donât you see?â he said, his voice barely above a whisper. âIf youâre here, if you stay⌠they have everything they need to break us.â
She looked from face to faceâat Wreckerâs clenched jaw, at Echoâs rigid stillness, at Techâs hands curled uselessly at his sides, at Synnoveaâs reserved sorrow. Her mouth opened, then closed as understanding crept in, slow and merciless. Omega crumpled forward with a sob, clutching at Hunterâs armor, her tears spilling over and soaking into the fabric of his shoulder as everything sheâd been holding back finally broke free. âI donât want to leave you,â she cried. âI donât want to.â
Hunter wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close, his eyes burning. âI know, kid,â he murmured. âI know.â
Synnovea watched them, throat tight, heart aching with the terrible necessity of it all. When Omega finally pulled back, shaking, Synnovea met her gaze.
âYou are not abandoning us,â she said quietly. âYou are carrying us with you.â
Omega wiped her face with her sleeve, breathing hard. âHow are all of you going to get out?â
Hunter didnât answer.
Synnovea did. âWeâre not that easy to kill,â she said softly. It wasnât a lie, and it kept her from having to say the truth out loud.
No one wasted another second. Now that the decision had been cemented, they all scattered in a fluid wave of motion that practically required no talking. Everyone in the room snapped into this focused group mentality, like a drill theyâd run a thousand times.
Synnovea moved toward the door as far as the chain at her ankle would allow. She tipped her head towards the locked portal, listening. âClear,â she murmured.
Wrecker and Echo were already at the wall. Wrecker wedged his fingers into the corroded edge of the grating and pulled. The metal shrieked in protest, thick chunks of rust flaking away as Echo braced it, working the opposite side loose with controlled force. Every scraping sound felt too loud in the tense room.
âEasy,â Tech whispered, wincing. He knelt beside them, pointing into the darkness beyond. âThe current flows southward. It will accelerate after approximately twenty meters, then narrow. Expect a vertical drop shortly thereafterâroughly two meters. It should be survivable.â
Omega swallowed hard.
âIf you encounter a junction,â Tech continued, rapid now, precise, âleft branch first, second right after that. Do not follow the strongest flowâit will lead back toward the processing sector.â
Wrecker gave one final tug. The grating tore free with a muted crack and clattered softly against the floor. The opening beyond was barely wide enough for Omegaâs shoulders. Hunter crouched beside her as Echo tested the water with one gloved hand, grimacing at the chill. âYouâll need to keep moving,â Hunter said quietly. âNo matter what.â
Omega nodded, tears streaking down her face. âI know.â
âDonât stop,â he went on. âDonât wait. Donât look back.â
She hesitated, looking at each of them one last timeâat Wreckerâs tight smile, at Echoâs steady nod, at Techâs forced composure. Her gaze lingered on Synnovea.
âIâm sorry we couldnât rescue your friend,â Omega whispered.
Synnovea met her eyes, something fierce and aching in her expression. âI havenât given up yet. But let us worry about that; you concentrate on getting to the ship.â
Hunter placed a hand on Omegaâs shoulder, grounding her. âHey.â She looked at him. His voice softened. âDonât be scared. Youâre one of our squad.â Her lip trembled. âThat makes you more than a match for anything out there.â
Omega drew a shaky breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded once. Then she stepped carefully into the trough, dropping to her hands and knees. The water soaked her clothes instantly, cold and slick, the rank smell sharp in her nose as she eased herself into the opening. She crawled forward inch by inch, her chin barely above the waterline, her elbows scraping against stone on either side as the darkness swallowed her whole.
With Echoâs assistance, Wrecker rammed the grating back into place.
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"Would you just let me help?" She asked, holding out a gloved hand for the tools.
Echo stilled, his face unreadable in the soft shadows. When he looked up, Lyrri's chest tightened; even in the low light, his golden eyes were searing. She thought he was about to tell her to get lost, but then he handed her the mini-torch. Determined not to show her shock, Lyrri immediately began inspecting his left knee joint. Echo was finally able to relax his back and sit at a normal angle. He didn't speak, and neither did she; Lyrri was not going to be the one who broke the silence. She heard him chuckle, something deep and mirthless.
"I hope you realize the irony in you asking me that."
wound care - Echo x F!Mercenary!OC
The Batch thought they were the first ones Cid sends after Muchi. When Lyrri is discovered in the Zygerrian's camp, broken and bleeding, the Batch has to pivot, and she has to accept there might actually be people in this galaxy who are willing to help her.
cicatrix - Echo x F!Mercenary!OC
Wound Care Vignettes
cicatrix: a scar (= mark left on the body) from a healed injury
Echo stumbles upon a living representation of his pain, and must learn the difference between mutual healing and trauma bonding.
As the Bad Batch face a system designed to break the strongest soldiers, Synnovea is singled out for a different fate. Who knew that survival could become a sentence rather than a mercy.
(TW: Imprisonment, chains/binders, torture, reference to harming children)
Hunter had initially kept track of the stairways and corridor turns in his head as they descended into the prison, but the slavers were cunning and deployed each of their shock collars at erratic intervals. After being electrocuted for the fourth time, he was having difficulty even navigating the wide passages without having to be prodded with an electrostaff.
The doors were more widely space in the corridors they passed. Some hallways echoed with moans or screams, some were eerily silent.
 âAre, are all of these people down here slaves?â Omegaâs voice was barely audible above the sounds of misery that drifted into the main corridor.
The head Zygerrian, identified by several of the guards as Scrist Denlo, snorted when he heard the question. âMerely the ones that require the processing chambers.â
She glanced distastefully around her. âFor how long?â
Scristâs grin was unpleasant in its smugness. âFor as long as it takes for them to learn their place.â
At the next intersection, they were all funneled down in front of a large door. After pressing a button, Scrist impatiently gestured for them to enter. Tech was first, and as he passed the threshold, one of the guards clouted him heavily on the back, half-knocking him into the room. Catching himself from stumbling despite the binders around his wrists, Tech skipped forward a few steps, colliding with the opposite wall with his shoulder.
Echo was next, and neatly dodged the kick aimed at him, snapping, âIâm going, Iâm going!â He was shocked for his efforts, and Scrist chuckled as his dazed form stumbled into the room, slumping against the wall. Wrecker tried to rush at the Zygerrian headman and almost made it but was stopped by an array of blaster rifles.
Hunter pushed Omega ahead of him before the slavers could react and took the crack of a rifle butt on his spine as a fair price, though it hurt like hell. Behind them, Synnovea made to enter the cell without protest, but Scrist took her by the shock collar, lifting her off the ground before tossing her unceremoniously onto the dirt floor of the cell. Two guards followed her inside with a length of chain, which they proceeded to attach at one end to her binders, and the other end to a ring in the floor that had gone unnoticed until now.
âCome on, is this really necessary,â she complained with a smirk on her face, holding up the heavy chain.
âStandard procedure for Force users,â Scrist answered, shrugging carelessly.
âYou know what they say is standard protocol for ZygerriansâŚâ the rest of the crude joke was in Huttese, but it was offensive enough that Scristâs ear folded back against his head in anger.
âInsolent Jedi! Youâll pay for that,â he snarled, pressing one of the buttons on his wrist.
âNnghh!â Synnoveaâs shriek was muffled by her clenched jaw, but she grinned tensely at the ground, panting slightly. âWorth itâŚâ
âAre you sure,â Scrist gloated, holding the button down until Synnovea toppled to the ground, her body jackknifing like a scyre-fish tossed on deck. Five, six seconds passed before he lifted his finger, and she collapsed against the floor, gasping.
âMy dearest personal wish is to put one of these collars around that guyâs neck,â Echo muttered, glowering at Scrist from beneath his furrowed brow as he reached down, offering Synnovea his good arm. Raising her head, she gripped his forearm with a resolute air and hauled herself to her feet. âHe may be having fun, but it doesnât look like you are,â he pointed out gruffly.
Synnovea tugged experimentally at the chain, grimacing when her arms were brought up short as she came to the end. âCâmon, this is isnât âfunâ for you?â At the full length of her tether, she was still a good two feet from any of the walls. âIâd give it two middle fingers up.â
âI would prefer a more accurate system of measurement for this experience.â Tech paused, looking around. âOr perhaps a different experience altogether.â
âIâd settle for a different view,â Hunter muttered, eyeing the guard that entered and whispered in Scristâs ear. âThis current one isâŚunappetizing.â
Her expression did not change. Inside, she recoiled, battening down every hatch, folding inward to a space too narrow for breath. Nothing in the room changedâno sound, no tremorâbut something tilted all the same, a subtle misalignment. A new presence had announced itself.
The low hum beneath her skin thinned, pulled taut, as if something had brushed itâa spider plucking the strands of a web.
âSynnovea?â Echo prodded.
She didnât answer Echo right away. Her eyes werenât on himâor on Scrist, or the guardsâbut fixed on the doorway, on the slice of corridor beyond it, as if she could already hear something approaching that the rest of them couldnât.
Her voice, when it came, was flatâso level it scraped the bottom of her throat. âWe need to leave.â
Echo frowned. âYeah, thatâs kind of the running theme hereââ
âNo,â she hissed. âYou donât understand. We canât stay. We have to wait for an opening or a distraction.â She reached out, snatching his arm. Her grip was iron despite the tremor running through her fingers. âWe cannot stay.â
Hunter leaned in, lowering his voice. âSynnovea. Weâre bound, chained, surrounded, and unarmed. You need to tell us how.â
âFind a way,â she cut in sharply, her voice barely above a breath now, harsh with restraint. âYouâre good at that. All of you. You improvise. You adapt. Do it now.â
Hunter glanced toward the guards, then back to her, his jaw tightening. âYouâre scaring Omega.â
âGood,â Synnovea said with unsettling calm. âShe should be scared.â
Omegaâs fingers curled into the other sleeve of Hunterâs blacks, her eyes wide. âSynnoveaâŚ?â Her voice was tremulous and thin.
Synnovea forced herself to look at her then, just for a second, and something raw flickered across her face. âStay behind them,â she whispered. âWhatever happens, you stay behind them.â
Hunter opened his mouth to demand an explanationâbut across the room, Scrist was laughing, clapping a heavy hand against the shoulder of one of his guards as he turned toward the doorway. âYou see? I told you the intel was solid. Superior stockâvery superior. You always did have an eye for quality, Xirn.â
Hunter felt it thenâthe pressure in the air, the subtle wrongness crawling up his spine. He shifted his stance, instinct screaming, even as Omegaâs fingers dug harder into his wrist.
The light in the doorway was blocked against by a lithe frame, and Hunter tensed. He was reminded of the chilling, anxious sensation when crossing the dianoga pit on Bracca. This was the same feeling, like crossing paths with a predator that youâd be better off avoiding. The newcomerâs long, dark hair hung over his shoulders, doing nothing to mask the wilted folds of skin that dressed his forehead and cheeks in disagreeable shadows. Hunter narrowed his eyes. Dangerous or not, he was glad that Anzati were rare in the galaxy, because they were downrightâŚugly.
Wordlessly, Wrecker moved forward as Hunter pulled Omega behind him.
Synnoveaâs face went utterly blank.
âDonât draw his attention,â she whispered, the words barely sound at all now. âDonâtââ
Scristâs earâs twisted in their direction, followed by his head swiveling to look at them over his shoulder. âHey â no talking, skug,â he snapped, raising his wrist cuff again.
âHeyâ!â Echo started.Â
The Zygerrian pressed the button on his forearm, and Synnoveaâs warning cut off in a scream, her hooked fingers shaking uselessly a few inches from the collar that sizzled brightly at her neck. At her outcry, the bounty hunterâs head snapped around expectantly, as one might in a crowded room when someone calls their name. Xirnâs black eyes narrowly studied the side of her face, the line of her twitching body, then lit up in satisfied recognition.
âSo it was you,â he purred in a liquid baritone. âI never forget a scream.â He turned back from the doorway, stepping further into the room. âThat particle of fear threaded into such a defiant hopeâŚI had never dreamed to taste that poignant anguish again.â He reached out with his long arm, tracing a finger along her cheekbone, laughing as she jerked her head away.
âXirn Vulgo.â The name fell from Synnoveaâs lips like a curse.
The Anzat leaned closer, his grin widening as she took a step back. âI felt your thoughts beating against my mind in the alley todayâso determined, so conflicted.â Vaguely, Hunter recalled something about Anzati being telepathic. âIt was all I could do not to embrace you in the streets. You can imagine my displeasure when I learned that Thuley had given you over to that Jedi.â
âBest day of my life,â Synnovea gritted, taking a careful step back.
âYou were always my favorite. Iâve yet to find a suitable replacement. The othersâŚtheyâre too quick to cry, too quick to die. Boring, really, practically tedious. Iâm not content with their bland flavor when I had the perfect recipe in you.â
His warm chuckle rose the hair on the back of Hunterâs neck. âThereâs nothing quite like the undiluted terror of an innocent mind, from the moment those doors close and lock, until the moment the body finally gives up. Some feel that fear lends a bitterness to the flavor, but I find its bite invigorating. Piquant.â
Slowly, with predatory grace, he circled Synnovea. She stood stiff and motionless, her gray eyes tracking his silent tread.
Xirnâs voice tightened, betraying his hunger. âBut fear alone is common,â he went on. âWhat elevates itâwhat perfects itâis hope. That fragile, stubborn insistence that something will intervene. That rescue will come. The instant when that belief collapsesâŚâ His voice softened, reverent. âThat is when the taste truly blooms.
âHere, gentlemen, is a veritable renewable font, because she heals, you see. We already proved it, decades ago. In a room not much different than this, wasnât it, Synnovea? You remember, donât you?â
His voice dropped, in octave and temperature, as he lowered his face to hers. âWhen the chrono was removed, so you couldnât even count down the minutes, the hours until dawnâŚâ Hunter felt bile burn its way up his throatâbut Xirn was still talking. âThe mind, it often breaks so quickly. But yours held such a resilience, this charming insolence that refused to beg, that tried so hard to fight back, that even your failure was delicious.â
The Anzatâs proboscii eased a few centimeters from his cheeks, quivering with anticipation as her low, enraged shriek filled the chamber. Xirn inhaled slowly, savoring the sound.
âThat moment,â he whispered, his voice trembling like a broken sigh, âwhen hope finally falters, when despair floods in to replace itâŚthere is no seasoning more rare. No flavor more exquisite.â
For a heartbeat, he did nothing.
Then his hand snapped forward, his fingers brutally tangling in her hair as he wrenched her head back.
âI look forward to finishing what we started.â
Synnovea hit the floor hard, the chain snapping taut with a metallic bark before gravity finished its work. She caught herself on one hand, breath knocked clean from her lungs, gray eyes flaring once before she forced them back into something steady. Xirnâs low laugh lingered like a stain as he turned away, Scrist falling into step beside him. The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss, leaving the cell suddenly, painfully quiet.
Hunter was the first to moveânot toward her, not to touch, but to place himself just slightly between Synnovea and the door, his posture loose in the way that meant it absolutely wasnât. Wreckerâs hands flexed, then clenched, his jaw set so tight a muscle jumped beneath the skin. Echoâs gaze tracked the sealed door, calculating angles, timing, guards. Tech adjusted his goggles without realizing he was doing it, eyes darting over the restraints, the collar, the chain, already dissecting the problem into components he could survive thinking about.
Synnovea drew in a slow breath and forced herself upright, shoulders squaring as if she were still standing before an audience. Her jaw set. Her eyes lifted. The deep breath she inhaled seemed to come from her toes, and her lips pursed as she blew out slowly. Her voice was quiet but steady. âWe donât have much time.â
Hunter exhaled through his nose. âYeah. Figured.â
âWe need to leave,â she said immediately. âNow. Not soon. Not after. Now.â
Wrecker snorted under his breath. âI like that plan. Letâs do that plan.â
Echo shook his head once. âWeâre collar-locked, chained, and surrounded by Zygerrians. PlusâŚwhoever, whatever that thing is.â His eyes flicked to the door again. âLeavingâs not exactly on the table.â
âThen we make it be,â Hunter shot back. âScrist wonât keep him waiting long. When he comes back, whatever he wantsâit wonât be good.â
Tech crouched, already inspecting the chain links where they bit into the floor. âRegrettably, brute-force removal is not an option. The alloy composition suggestsââ
âExplosives?â Wrecker offered hopefully.
âAnd just where are we to procure explosives in a Zygerrian processing chamber, Wrecker?â Tech asked wearily.
âBoooo.â
âThe collar is the primary obstacle,â Tech continued, unfazed. âIt appears to be keyed to Scristâs bio-signature on his wristplate. Any attempt to disable it remotely wouldââ
âKill her,â Echo finished flatly. Omegaâs eyes widened, but she pressed her lips together in a flat line.
Synnovea rolled her shoulder, tipping the collar away from part of the electrical burn that ringed her throat. âLetâs call that Plan B.â The outer corner of her eye flinched.
Hunterâs eyes snapped to her. âNot an option.â
Tech bit the tip of his thumb, still running probabilities. âIf the Anzat remains nearby, any attempt at subterfuge will be detected. His species isâŚnotorious for heightened perception.â
âNo,â Synnovea said, and there it wasâthat brittle edge of defiance she was clinging to. âJust delayed.â Her brow furrowed. âWe need them to underestimate us.â
Echo snorted quietly. âThat ship sailed.â
Before anyone could answer, the door hissed open.
Scrist stepped back inside, all smug authority and jangling keys, with Xirn just behind himâunhurried, pleased, his attention already sliding back toward her like a hand reaching for a bruise.
âMiss me?â Scristâs grin widened as the door sealed behind him, cutting off any illusion of reprieve. He took his time walking the length of the room, inspecting each of them from head to toe as if already cataloguing them as inventory.
âYou clones always think youâre special,â he said conversationally. âDisciplined. Loyal. Hard to break.â He waved a dismissive hand. âWeâve handled the Grand Army before. Weâve broken soldiers bred for obedience, for pain tolerance, for endurance. It only takes longer, thatâs all.â
Wrecker snorted. âYou talk a lot for someone who bleeds like anyone else.â
Scrist didnât even look at him. âFirst comes isolation. Then sensory deprivation. Then we remove certaintyâsleep, food, time.â He stopped in front of Echo, leaning close enough that their noses nearly touched. âYouâd be amazed how fast even the strongest minds begin to fracture once they stop knowing what comes next.â
Echo met his gaze without blinking. âYou sound proud.â
âI am,â Scrist said pleasantly. âItâs a craft.â
Hunter shifted his weight, testing his binders. âAnd when that doesnât work?â
Scrist finally laughed, a harsh bark of a sound. âThen we escalate.â
He turned then, attention snapping back to Synnovea with renewed interest. âBut youâyou are something else entirely.â His eyes raked over her in open appraisal. âLuckily, our Prince Sono Molec knows the value of rare commodities.â
He shoved the butt of his whip beneath her chin, forcing her head up as he examined her face like a curiosity pulled from a crate. âJedi are supposed to be extinct now,â he went on. âWhich makes oneâŚa singular indulgence.âÂ
Her jaw clenched, but she didnât look away.
âItâs an expensive taste,â Scrist continued mildly. âOnly epicurean traders, syndicate heads, nephews of governorsâpeople with more credits than conscienceâcan afford it. Three such patrons are already en route to Sclavos. Theyâll arrive by morning. And for the credits theyâre willing to pay, we created a match just for them.â
âImperial credits,â Synnovea ground out.
He shrugged. âCredits spend the same everywhere now.â Leaning closer, his breath washed over her face. âAnd our clever Prince has just completed a new arena. A labyrinth. Twisting halls, shifting rooms, environmental hazards.â His eyes gleamed. âHeâs been dying to christen it.â
Tech stiffened. âYou intend to make this public.â
âPublic enough,â Scrist said smugly. âDouble the usual ticket price, and weâre nearly sold out.â
âYouâre charging admission,â Tech said carefully, âto watch her be hunted.â
âAnd the Empire?â Hunter demanded. âYou donât think theyâll notice?â
âWith a collar like that?â Scrist scoffed. âNo saber, no robes, no theatrics. The audience will see a target, nothing more. Only the hunters need to know what she really is.â His smile widened. âAnd even if the Empire does come sniffing around later, they can have whatâs left. Minus a few souvenirs.â
Synnoveaâs voice dropped, calm and terrifying. âPut me in that arena, and youâll be scraping pieces of your hunters out of the walls.â
Scrist burst into laughter, loud and genuine. He flicked her face aside with the handle of his whip and sighed theatrically. âWith that confidence, we really should have charged triple. Crowds love an underdog.â
His gaze slid back to the Batch. âDonât worry. Youâll all be allowed to watch.â He tapped the control on his wrist, just enough to make Synnovea cry out, her body jerking despite herself. âFront-row seats. A proper farewellâŚright next to the one you failed to save.â
Her head snapped up, breath ragged. âLeave him out of this.â
âOh, that wasnât his decision,â Xirn said lazily.
Hunterâs stomach twisted as the Anzat pushed off the wall and drifted closer, every movement smooth, unhurriedâpredatory. Ugly things, Hunter thought distantly, should not move so beautifully.
âScrist Kronda may run this cell block,â Xirn continued, âbut he answers to Prince Sono. And the PrinceâŚâ His smile widened. âIs a gambler.â
He stopped just short of Synnovea, his black eyes tracking her as she stumbled back a step. âMost here will wager on how quickly you die.â He paused.
âI did not.â
Silence spread through the room.
âIâve placed a separate bet,â Xirn went on softly. âThat you survive the arena.â
Color drained from her face.
âAnd if I win,â he said, voice gentle as a loverâs promise, âthe Prince has agreed to trade my bountyâfor you.â
Hunter felt something cold settle in his chest.
âYou see,â Xirn murmured, watching her like a tooka lowering itself before the pounce, âthey donât know your resilience. Not like I do.â His proboscis twitched, just slightly as his gaze devoured her reaction. âDonât be afraid, little Synnovea.â
His whisper slithered through the air.
âI plan on you living a very long life.â
Previous: Ch 15 / Next: Ch 17
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All the Bad Batch have to do is sneak into a Zygerrian slaver city undetected, find one single captive among thousands, and sneak back out. Piece of cake.
âNot that this isnât entertaining, but do we really have time for this?â
Synnovea looked over her shoulder, grinning up at Hunter. âDo you want to wait until weâre closer to the city first?â
âWell, no,â he admitted, rubbing the back of his head, âbut itâs just a littleâŚridiculous.â
She gently backhanded his crossed arms. âFour credits says he runs right into that tree.â
Tech peered ahead past both of them. âUnlikely. Heâll fall over again first.â
âMake it ten, then.â
âYouâre on.â
âI thought we said no bets?â Echo insisted.
Synnovea chuckled. âThatâs before it grabbed his bad ear.â
âWhy are we watching instead of helping?â Omega wanted to know.Â
âWhy do we always land so far away from wherever weâre going?â Wrecker complained as he finally managed to grab the monkey-lizard that had latched onto his shoulders, flinging the animal in a squealing arc. âGetâoffâa me! I think thatâs the same one as last time.â
Omega cupped her hands around her mouth. âIt likes you,â she called encouragingly.
âYeah, well, itâs gonna like blaster heat in a minuteââ
Tech rescued his datapad from the curious grasping fingers of another Kowakian, which chittered its disappointment and scurried up the trunk of a nearby tree. âThe markings on the Kowakian you threw look to be the same as the one who climbed on you the last two times. The first time it came back instantly, then in two minutes, now five. Either you are getting better at dislodging the creature, or she is getting the hint. Slowly.â
Synnovea chuckled. âAlmost makes you miss the woolamanders, doesnât it?â
Wrecker grunted. âI wouldnât go that far,â he grumbled, ripping a fern frond from his back and tossing it aside as he rejoined them.
âWhatâs wrong with woolamanders?â Omega asked, smiling as a red Kowakian ran in front of her holding Wreckerâs binocs.
âAw, they look like a lamp chain I saw on Pantora once,â Wrecker muttered, glaring suspiciously at the branches above his head.
Techâs helmet swung back in Wreckerâs direction. âWas that before or after you broke it?â
Echo half-stepped, half-slid down the overgrown slope in front of them, scooting gingerly around a bush with brown-streaked leaves bigger than his head. âHow about you quit taunting him and figure out if weâre still headed in the right direction?â he said pointedly.
Lifting his datapad, Tech monitored the screen as he swept it through the air. âRight over that ridge.â
Hunterâs spirits fell as they crept to the edge of the greenery overlooking the red mesa that supported the city of Sclavos. Imposing city walls punctuated by guard towers overlooked both the humid jungle and the well-paved streets that neatly divided the buildings into organized sections. Shops and personal dwellings were clearly separated from the numerous structures and pits that housed the bulk of Kowakâs business transactions. Brightly colored canopies partially shaded the affluent shoppers from the arid heat reflecting off the tired smooth flagstones that had been imported at tremendous cost to line the paths of the capital. Finally, towering over all else, the massive palace took up the bulk of the mesa, its glittering sides rising to a domed peak.
âSubtle,â Synnovea quipped, as she knelt beside the others, her hands gripping her binocs.
âIâm used to seeing this kind of patrol overlap in Imperial installations,â Hunter mused, ânot in a place as low-tech as this. I donât even see many droids.â
âWouldnât exactly inspire confidence in your merchandise if thereâs an obvious competitor at hand that wonât disobey, now would it?â Tech commented dryly, lowering his visor as he peered at the guard posts on the walls.
âCityâs designed to funnel anyone coming in through the main gates; our chances of sneaking past undetected arenât that great.â
âNot all of us, at any rate,â Synnovea agreed, lowering her binocs, âbut I could get in by myself.â
âCan I borrow those?â Wrecker asked, his hand out. âI canât find mine.â She passed them over. âThanks.â
âWhatâs got into you?â Hunter scowled down at her. âWe havenât even scouted the perimeter yet. Youâre not just going to stroll into the city without a plan?â
âWhy?â she asked brightly. âYou got a better idea?â
He stared at her for a long moment. âThis is your idea of sarcasm, is that it?â
âYep.â
âWell, stop it.â He pivoted on his knee. âTech, we need eyes inside the city.â
Techâs datapad screen cast a dim light on the front of his helmet as he tapped a sequence of keys. âIâll start running a spectral analysis on the cityâs surveillance grid, see if I can pinpoint any blind spots or back doors we can exploit.â
Hunter turned to the others. âThe rest of you, get to higher ground. Once you find a good vantage point, I want you to get a feel for the patrol routes and their shift changes before we make a move.â
âAbsolutelyâŚâ Synnovea said, scooting backwards into the underbrush. âAnd while you guys are doing that, Iâm going to go in and actually get Triage.â
His attention still on the city walls, Hunter reached back and snatched the shoulder strap of Synnoveaâs satchel, bringing her up short. âThatâs not how this works, Synnovea. Iâm not letting you go in alone while the rest of us play catch-up. We move together, or we donât move at all. And you still donât have a plan.â
âUh, yeah, I said I was going to go get himâŚâ Synnovea bit back a yelp as he dragged her back into their impromptu semi-circle. âOkay, fine. No, I donât have a planâŚbut if I keep moving, they wonât have time to think of a plan, either. So, they cancel each other out. Now leggo.â
Hunter was coming to the end of his patience. âWho the pfassk taught you tactical operations? This isnât a solo mission; itâs a team effort! Now we want to get your trooper out, but weâre all getting back on the Marauder in the end, is that clear?â
Synnovea opened her mouth to give a scathing reply, when Wreckerâs enormous hand descended almost gently on her shoulder. âHey, why do we gotta go so fast?â
Swallowing her first response, Synnovea pressed her knuckles to her mouth, closing her eyes.
Tech tapped the screen of his datapad. âZygerrian cities typically employ layered defenses to protect their property, including proximity sensors and hidden patrol droids, to say nothing of a robust contingent of guards. Without scouting ahead, we risk triggering a full-scale alert.â
 âAll right.â She cupped her hands over her face, breathing slowly. âHunter, tell us what we should do,â she said hollowly, trying not to show how much those words cost her.
 "Youâre going to have to find a way into the city.â He handed his helmet to Omega. âBut Iâm going with you. We need to locate where they took the new prisoners if weâre going to bust your lad out.â He glanced around. âThe rest of you have your orders. Keep comm use to a minimum; we donât know who might be listening.â
âYouâre fidgeting again.â
âI canât help it. A cloak just isnât comfortable in this heat.â
âWell, get comfortable,â Synnovea snapped, glancing up and down the street. âItâs the only way to cover that tattoo of yours. You donât want to know what theyâll do to us if they realize weâre not who we say we are.â She yanked the covering over part of Hunterâs face and straightened whatever he had done with the rest of the short cloak. âRemember, weâre from the Chorios system looking for some sturdy slaves that will do well in the mines. Youâre my bodyguard, so if anyone tries to talk to you, just grunt and look unwelcoming. That should come naturally.â Hunter muttered a word she didnât know but guessed it wasnât complimentary. âSee? Thatâs it,â she said cheerfully, patting his rigid shoulder.
He stared down at her. Synnovea waltzed along the dully polished smoky quartz pathways as if she spent every afternoon peering into crowded slave pens and critically pinching the arms of collared aliens that stood, resentful but silent, as they were poked and prodded like herdbeasts. âYou seem to be enjoying yourself.â
âIâm just a better actor than you are,â she murmured as they paused beneath an emerald-hued awning for a brief respite from the unrelenting sun. âMy life has depended upon it in the past.â
Hunter made a face as a cart pulled by two aromatic bantha trundled past. âI thought espionage was beneath the Jedi.â
She winked at him, craning her neck to peer over the heads of passersby as she got her bearings. âThatâs what made us so good at our job.â She snapped her fingers. âCome. This way. There are a lot of guards, but most of them are solitary. No paired patrols inside the city walls.â
âBut you had no one to call for help if things went south,â he commented, using these moments to scan the rooftops. âYou said that the Council didnât officially recognize your little âoutingsâ. Not many guards up thereâŚbut I see a fair share of probe droids. This place is like a fortress.â
âThe Council didnât officially recognize a bunch of things,â Synnovea said as they continued along the broad street. The brittleness in her tone surprised him, but as he twisted to glance at her, she halted. âDamn. They really like their ten-meter walls. I mean, like, fssshhooooâŚâ and she swept her hand in a rising curve that encompassed a broad section of the imposing ramparts.        Â
âWeâll have to do something about those guard posts,â Hunter commented, then abruptly jerked in surprise as a coffle of Rodians and humans shuffled past. He grabbed Synnovea, pulling her out of the way. âThose are kids,â he hissed.
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked forward again as if seeing an everyday occurrence, though her body tensed in quiet anger. âLooks like it. The lucky ones are sold with their families. TheseâŚwell, letâs just say that there are a number of jobs people can find for children with no one to protect them.â Pretending to be interested in some collars decorated with enameled onyx, she held one up to stare at the street through the neck hole. âI keep seeing guards go down this wayâŚâ
One of the human children looked up at Hunter, and he was unnerved by the vacant look of hopelessness in their eyes. âHow do you know that?â he whispered. It was difficult to watch the thin bodies covered by ragged clothes stumble along the street and not envision Omega among them. Maybe he shouldnât have let her comeâŚ
âBecause thatâs what happened to me.â
Hunterâs head snapped up just as Techâs voice came thinly from within his vest pocket. âHunter, I have the layout for the underground tunnels and cells beneath the slave pits which the guards apparently refer to as the Nest. Itâs a veritable warren, with only one entry/exit point that is heavily guarded. However, that is where they take most of the new captures to be processed, so that is most likely where they took Triage.â
Hunter jerked the commlink out of his pocket. âWhat about their air support?â he whispered into the device.
Echoâs voice trickled from the device. âMostly Aurore-class freighters for transport, a few personal ships. Thereâs a royal barge that looks like itâs too big to free itself from the planetâs gravitational pull, let alone give pursuit. Nothing on-planet that can outrun the Marauder.â
Synnoveaâs head turned slightly, a deep frown line appearing between her brows as her eyes skimmed the crowd. âA rippleâŚâ she whispered to herself.
âCopy that.â He stuffed the gadget back into his pocket. âWeâve got what we needed; letâs go.â Looking over his shoulder as he spoke, he stilled, lowering his hands. âYouâre doing that, that thing again. That face thing.â He peered more closely, narrowing his eyes. âWhat is it?â
âNothing. Just nerves. Itâll pass.â She waved her hand in the direction of the massive gates that overlooked much of the city. âCome on. I donât want to spend any more time in this wretched city than we have to, and we need to come back here tonight.â Her gaze swept the area one more time, then she shook her head, dislodging her thoughts.
Hunter pointed at a compound in the holoprojection. âThatâs where we think theyâre holding your trooper.â
âYeah, but then I, I sensed something. Something off, something wrong,â Synnovea answered, suppressing a shudder as she laced her fingers tightly together.
âOh,â Wrecker nodded with understanding, looking at Hunter, swirling his finger in a circle around his face. âDid she do the thing?â
âI did not do the thing.â
âYou kind of do,â Echo said apologetically.
Synnovea threw up her hand. âFine, I did the thing!â She rubbed the back of her neck, looking uncomfortable. âJust, for a moment there in Sclavos, I feltâŚsmall. Trapped.â Shaking her head vigorously to rid herself of the sensation, she rocked back on her knees. âItâs hard to describe. Most likely just bad memories.â
Hesitating a moment, Hunter asked, âWhat you said before, is it true?â
Nodding, Synnovea tapped the projector, changing the angle of the projected map. âEarly as I can remember, I was a slave until my master found me on Gus Talon. I was seven years old then.â
Echo blinked. âI thought the Jedi didnât take younglings that age. Usually theyâre too young to remember much of their past when they startâŚâ
Intent on dialing the image into focus, Synnovea mumbled, âYeah, they make exceptions for thingsâŚwhen it suits them. I had to catch up with a lot of the Padawan training, but it was worth it to confound expectations.â She tapped the device, and the warped image cleared up. âAlways thought weâd go back one day and free the rest of them, something like that.â
Omega watched Synnoveaâs calm, politely expressionless face. âBut you didnât, did you?â
Synnovea glanced down at her, a frown line appearing between her brows. âWhy would you say that?â
âYour face goes sort of blank when somethingâs bothering you. Nala Se did it all the time, so itâs easy for me to notice.â
âIs it like the thing?â Wrecker asked, making the motion again.
âItâs like the thing, but more like the face she made when she had to fight Carnage,â Omega answered matter-of-factly, waggling her hand in a so-so gesture.
âOhhh, that one,â Wrecker said with a groan. âYeah, sheâs used that one a few times.â
Echo grunted. âBut itâs not as bad as when she gets really madâŚâ
âWhat does she do, then?â
âRemember that evening when they were trying to repair the jukebox because it was stuck on âThe Twins of Kiraâ for the whole day, and it was raining tookas and hounds outside, and she caught Venth raising thirty against her high fleet when all he had was a weak squadron?â He pointed at Wrecker. âThat face.â
Wrecker leaned back, pointing back at Echo in a gesture of slow discovery. âYou mean that face?â He shook his head. âNo, that was scary enough seeing it once, thank you very muchâŚâ
Watching the back and forth of their conversation like the moves of a wrestling match, Synnovea snapped, âWhat, youâve made a list of the different faces I make?â
âWell, not a comprehensive list, exactly,â Tech admitted, showing his datapad screen. âYou see, your verifiable reactions have, at best, created a rudimentary scatter chart with significant outliers depending on initial mood and hunger levelsââ
âRight,â Synnovea muttered through her hand. âSorry I asked.â
Omega looked over Techâs shoulder. âYouâre not going to get satisfactory readings with a scatter graph,â she said, âWhy not use a chart to determine the constants?â
âBecause no self-respecting statistician uses a flow chart for analysis,â Tech informed her in an exhausted tone. âBut perhapsâŚâ
A hand reached up and yanked the datapad down as Synnovea leaned into their little huddle. âListen, could weâhi thereâcould we, perhaps, focus on something other than what my face does when I talk? Like our little infiltration gang exercise?â
âExfil,â Tech corrected automatically as he brought the map closer to one of the larger buildings within the part of the city designed to hold unpurchased slaves. âThe entrance to the Nest is within this compound, composed of a series of nesting squares that keep groups of captures separated from each otherâoh, now that is interestingâŚâ
âWhat?â
âThese dividing walls are calculated with the golden ratio, how fascinatingââ
âTech,â Hunter growled, âweâre breaking in tonight, if youâre quite done being impressed with slaver engineeringâŚâ
âOh, yes. As I was saying, the entrance is within this compound on the northern sideâŚâ
âCareful, now,â Hunter whispered as Omega shimmied her way up the rappelling cord. âUp and overâŚâ he watched tensely as she swung her leg over the edge of the wall. âWrecker, you see her?â
âYep, sheâs making her way down. We got her on this side.â
âYou lot donât have to be so worried about me,â Omega griped beneath her breath as she slid the last few meters into Wreckerâs hands.
âTry that line again when weâre not in Slaverâs Central.â Gripping the cable with both hands, he flowed over the outer wall of the city, followed closely by Tech. The smells of baking bread and freshly tapped ale were no longer in the air, and the canopied walkways were almost painfully quiet.
âYou never answered my question,â Omegaâs voice chirped as they stole quietly along the darkened path between the silent buildings, keeping to side streets whenever possible. The Zygerrian guards stationed on the tops of buildings sauntered about their business, and their meandering courses were easy to predict.
Halting at one intersection, Wrecker turned when everyone caught up. âThe golden rations are up aheadââ
Tech interrupted. âGolden ratio, Wrecker.â
âWhatever. Techâs little wall set is up ahead. Looks like the gate is locked up tight. Do you want to go over, or through?â Wrecker held up a grenade invitingly.
âOver.â Hunter laced his fingers together, boosting Tech and then Echo before climbing over himself.
âSo how come you never went back to free your friends on Gus Talon?â Omega asked as she received a boost from Wrecker to scramble over the gate.
âWhat?â Synnovea blinked. âHurry up and get over.â She vaulted neatly across the bars, barely touching the top of the wall with her hand before landing next to Omega, who began speaking again as soon as she set foot on the ground. âWe justâŚnever got around to it.â
Hunterâs voice overrode them on the channel. âIn case neither of you have noticed, weâre literally in the middle of enemy territory, so I suggest we table this conversation for another time and keep our heads up.â His tone was so scathing that no one spoke for several minutes as they scaled the interlocking compound walls around the wide stairs carved into the ground in the center of the dividers.
Running lightly across the open area, Synnovea paused suddenly at the entrance to the Nest.
âWhat are you doing? Weâre exposed up here,â Echo whispered, motioning her to come down.
In the moonlight, her brow furrowed, her attention tugged away by a sense of unease. âI have a bad feeling about thisâŚâ The air felt weighted, as if the entire compound was holding its breath, waiting.
âThe guard will turn back this way any second! Come on!â
Shaking her head to dispel her misgivings, Synnovea followed him down the stairs of the tunnel, instinctively ducking her head even though she was well within the vertical clearance. She felt the temperature drop almost instantly, a whiff of unnaturally cool air in the corridor chilling the sweat on her skin to an uncomfortable tacky residue.
The eerie normalcy of well-spaced lighting and swept corridors seemed so incongruous with the rumble of half a dozen whispered languages and muffled sobs that echoed off the walls. They skimmed down the various intersections, at times stopping with their hearts in their mouths until the hallways were empty once more and they could continue.
âWrecker, you and Omega keep an eye on this corridor. Let us know if you hear anyone coming this way,â Hunter ordered quietly, edging his way to the next intersection. Waving his blaster, the rest of them hurried noiselessly down the path, following Techâs gestured directions further into the Nest.
Synnovea shivered, though not with cold. âSo muchâŚtension,â she whispered. âFrom all the cells weâre passing.â
âCan you blame them?â Hunter scoffed. âIâd be pretty pissed if I were in one of these things.â
âThatâs not what I felt from most of the slaves yesterday,â she objected as they crept deeper into the Nestâs tunnels. âThey were scared, and sadâŚthis is different.â
âYou heard what Tech said. They put new captures in the Nest to depersonalize them. So, these cells are full of people who havenât given up yet.â
âMaybe, on our way out, we could unlock theseââ
âOh, noâŚâ Hunter spun around so quickly that she had to jerk her head back to avoid being backhanded by his blaster. âWeâre taking enough of a risk for your trooper. Donât go all Jedi on me now and start insisting we free every single one of these poor souls.â
âIâm not a Jedi anymore,â she threw back staunchly, glowering at the face of his helmet.
âYeah? Then what are you?â
Synnovea fell silent, and he turned back and followed Tech, not waiting for a response. After several moments, she followed in their wake.
The minutes stretched to unbearable tension until, pausing in one corridor, Tech announced, âThis is the correct location. Third door on the left.â
Hunter turned to Synnovea. âAfter you.â
Swallowing, she squared her shoulders, willing her tread to be calm, sedate. The cell up ahead pulsed with a level of anger on such a high frequency, screaming like the birds along the coastline of Yavin IV, that she found her boots moving faster, until she was practically jogging when she reached the door. Sternly suppressing the chaotic emotions coming from the other cells, she passed her hand over the door panel, slowing her motion just enough for the hummm of the lock to flash green, then she was squeezing past the door even as it was still opening.
She froze, her eyes taking in the bulky form curled up on the bench facing away from her, draped in a thin blanket that had nearly as many holes as threads. âWait,â she whispered as the man sat up, the ragged covering sliding down from his head and shoulders. âThis isnât anger Iâm sensing.âŚâ
Waiting next to Echo in the corridor, Hunter was eyeing the underground lighting systemâmost of these were run with tibanna, a notoriously volatile gas also used as fuel and blaster cartridgesâwhen the edge of another door caught his eye.
It moved.
His vibroblade was in his hand before he thought about it. Next to him, Echo murmured uneasily. âHunterâŚâ
âHunter.â Wreckerâs voice was softer than usual. âEverythingâs fine on our end.â
Which was their code that everything was indeed not fine. The farthest from it. The plan was ruined. They had to get out, now.
âSynnovea,â he snapped, as the door slid open, âitâs aââ
ââa trap,â she finished quietly, her voice as cornered in the cell as she was, staring down the barrel of a Zygerrian blaster rifle in the hands of one of the slavers.
âCan we make a run for it?â Echo asked as he backed into Hunter, his blaster drawn. As if on cue, another cell door slid open, then another, and another, until all the doors on the block were open, and the corridor was filled with grinning Zygerrians, their feline eyes glowing with malicious intent.
Tech raised his arms. âThatâŚcould be problematic.â
Previous: Ch 14 / Next: Ch 16
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Echo didnât raise his voice when Venth named his price. He didnât even look particularly angry. He simply turned, one brow lifting as if he were checking that heâd heard correctly.
âThatâs not a market price,â he said flatly. âThatâs hyperlane robbery.â
Venth pressed a hand to his chest in exaggerated hurt. âRobbery is such an ugly word. I prefer situational pricing. Youâre looking at a remote location, limited supply, elevated risk, and then a logistics surcharge...â
âI can tell you what Iâd preferâŚâ Echo began. Venth flinched at the growl in his voice. âYouâre charging triple pre-war value for a Class-Seven power coupling,â he continued. âEven accounting for scarcity, transport costs, and your so-called risk, that markup is indefensible.â
Behind him, the Marauder sat with its ramp lowered, panels still open along one flank like exposed ribs. Tech had been halfway down the ramp, datapad already out, and paused at Echoâs words.
âCorrection,â Tech said absently, scrolling. âIt is actually closer to four-point-two times the standard rate, assuming the coupling is genuine and not a refurbished civilian substitute with a falsified Imperial serial stamp.â
Venthâs grin tightened. âYou wound me. Do I look like someone who would pass off substandard goods?â
Wrecker snorted. âYes.â
Omega clapped a hand over her mouth a second too late.
Venth shrugged, unoffended. âAh,â he rallied gamely, âbut typically it isnât being sold to fugitives flying a ship that sounds like itâs held together by Corellian scrap.â
Wrecker folded his arms. âHey. Sheâs got personality,â he grumbled, defensive.
âThe power coupling does not require personality,â Tech dismissed. âIt requires proper calibration, which this unitââhe tapped the crateââhas undergone.â
Venth leaned against the crate with the coupling, scuffing his boot along the base. âLook, boys. You donât like the price, I understand.â He threw up an arm, indicating the interior of the freighter, cram-packed with plastene crates and boxes and barrels. âBut youâre not exactly browsing a Core World showroom. You came to me because I had the parts, and because you needed them now.â
Echo stepped closer. âWe came to you because you told us you were fair.â
âI am fair,â Venth said cheerfully. âYouâre in need of a part that will keep the ship from tearing itself apart the next time you make a jump. And I, understanding your predicament, am offering itââ his thin hand raised above Hunterâs shoulder to clasp it.
âNope.â
Venth hesitated, then lowered his hand awkwardly, continuing, ââŚat a price that reflects how badly you need it.â
âThing is, this isnât a regular port,â Hunter said quietly. âThereâs no traffic. No patrols. And if something were to delay your departureâŚâ He let the sentence trail off, glancing aside as Wrecker cracked his knuckles. âIt would take a long time for anyone to notice.â
Venth took a few steps back toward the wall of the freighterâs cargo hold, his palms raised in a placating gesture. âLook, look,â he said, lowering his voice as though sharing a confidence. âLetâs all take a breath. Weâre professionals here. No need to start imagining⌠absences.â
Echoâs head tilted slightly. âI wasnât imagining anything,â he said. âI was just doing the math.â
Hunter shot him a look that might have been a warning or encouragement. It was hard to tell with Hunter.
Venthâs smile faltered. âMath? But I gave you the priââ
Echo nodded. âYou disappear in a system this far off the main hyperlanes, it takes, whatâthree weeks before anyone even flags your last transponder ping as overdue?â
âAssuming theyâre even looking,â Hunter added mildly. He stepped closer to the edge of the pad, boots crunching in the grit, and let his gaze flick briefly to the surrounding wilderness before returning to Venthâs face. âIt would take a long time for anyone to notice.â
Echo continued in the same vein. âThree weeks is a long timeâŚbut we can make it feel like forever.â
Venth swallowed. âNo need to get dramatic. Iâm a reasonable man.â
âThen act like one,â Echo said.
The green Rodian pivoted on his leatherene heel with a flourish that suggested heâd meant to be reasonable all along, clapping his hands together once as if calling an end to intermission. âAll right,â he said briskly. âLetâs talk details. No sense getting blood pressure involved. Bad for business.â
He named a new price. Hunter didnât move from where he stood. Neither did Echo. The pressure stayed exactly where it was.
Venth gestured nervously to the crate as he scooted off its edge. âLook over the coupling, go ahead. Careful! If itâs scratched, Iâll discount ten percent.â He slunk over to Synnovea, who was looking on with thinly veiled amusement. âCan you believe these guys,â he asked in a stage whisper, rubbing his arms as if he were cold. Even in the shade the heat was obscene, but Hunterâs scowl had an unearthly chill.
âVenth,â Synnovea said quietly. âHave you come across any interceptor parts lately? Hull plating, maybe some control vanes.â
He turned to her, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something almost nostalgic.
âYou always did ask for the impossible,â he said, shaking his head. âYou know how dangerous that kind of request is now.â
Overhearing the exchange, Echo glanced between them. âNow? You two know each other fromâbefore?â
âNo, impossible is that this is the same void-awful green as it was ten cycles agoâŚprobably even more.â
Venth gave a small, rueful shrug. âPaintâs expensive. There was a time when the Temple kept my business alive. Training craft, interceptors, spares by the crate.â His gaze returned to Synnovea, fond and knowing. âI remember her when she was a kid. See, the Padawans werenât supposed to go to the Lower Levelsââ
âVenth,â Synnovea said firmly.
He smiled, waving one hand in surrender. âAll right. Iâll behave.â He rubbed his cheek with one of his hands as he considered the mottled olive green interior. âMaybe she could do with a little sprucingâŚâ he admitted.
Omega leaned forward, curiosity bright, but Venth was already sobering again. âShort answer is, those parts still exist. Long answer is, asking about them is a tricky business.â He scratched at the spines running down the middle of his head. âI canât make any promises, but Iâll let you know if I hear anything.â
Synnovea nodded, unsurprised. âI thought as much. Thank you.â
Venth cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together as if sealing the moment shut. âRight. Sentiment aside. We still have a deal to finish before anyone here gets nostalgic or homicidal.â
Echo scoffed. âYouâre still overcharging for this scrap.â
The medbay was dimmer than the rest of the rooms on the level, the lights turned down to a functional glow that left the corners in shadow. Synnovea preferred it that way. The quiet helped. The hum of the generatorsâsteady now, no longer coughing or stutteringâsettled into a low, even thrum beneath everything else.
She leaned back in the chair with a mug of caf cradled in one hand, its warmth seeping into her fingers. In front of her, the main holoscreen had been subdivided into a grid: dozens of small feeds running simultaneously. Some showed polished anchors delivering Imperial-approved headlines; others were grainy, off-world broadcasts, shaky footage, scrolling tickers in a myriad of languages. They shifted every few seconds as she dismissed one and pulled another up with a tap of her finger, rearranging the grid with the familiarity of someone who had done this many, many times.
ArEx hovered nearby, its optics flicking back and forth in sync with the changing screens. Every so often, the droid emitted a soft breep, as if reacting to something it recognized, though what that might be was unclear. Synnovea took a slow sip of caf and reached out to mute one channel mid-sentence. A moment of static, then another took its place instantly.
The medbay doors slid open with a familiar hiss.
Hunter entered first, as usual, pausing just long enough to take in the sceneâthe screens, the caf, the set of her shouldersâbefore stepping fully inside. The rest of the Batch followed in a loose cluster: Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker bringing up the rear, already craning his neck with interest.
âSynnovea,â Hunter said. âWeâre airborne again. Full systems check passed. Sheâs holding together.â
She nodded, eyes still on the screens. âGood.â It wasnât dismissive. Just⌠contained. There were times like this, when she was so compartmentalized, that he wondered what was actually going on beneath the surface. She took another sip, then finally turned her head toward him. âThank you.â
Behind them, Wrecker had drifted toward one of the medical storage racks. âHey,â he said, picking up a cylindrical device and turning it over in his hands. âWhatâs this thing do?â
âPut that down,â Echo said immediately. âQuit touching things!â
âIâm not touching,â he protested, immediately lifting it up to peer at its underside. âThis is science. Iâm âexaminingâ.â
âThatâs touching,â Echo insisted, moving closer with his hand held out. âPut it back.â
âItâs heavy.â
âThat means itâs expensive!â
Tech adjusted his goggles, inspecting the holoscreen array. âYou are monitoring a statistically improbable volume of information simultaneously,â he observed. âI count forty-eight active feeds.â
âFifty-two,â Synnovea corrected absently, flicking two more into place. âI closed four earlier.â
âYou cannot possibly observe them all,â Tech continued. âThere are thousands of independent broadcasters across the Mid and Outer Rim alone. Even with accelerated pattern recognitionââ
âIâm aware,â she said even
Tech tilted his head, frowning. âThen might I ask why youâre doing it?â That earned him a lookâbrief, but sharp enough to suggest heâd asked something more personal than heâd intended.
She set the mug down carefully, both hands free now. âIâm looking for signs,â she said simply. âOf the men who served under me. If theyâre still in the army orâŚeven alive.â
Hesitating, Tech said, with uncharacteristic gentleness, âThe probability of success is extremely low. Millions of news channels are not archived. Some are intentionally scrubbed.â
She looked back at the screens, jaw set. âIf theyâre alive,â she went on, âtheyâll leave traces. Someone records something. Someone reports a skirmish. A garrison changes hands. I donât need all of it. I just need enough.â
ArEx let out an urgent bree-bree-BEEP and zipped forward, bumping insistently into Wreckerâs forearm.
âOkay, okay!â Wrecker laughed, holding the device out at armâs length. âThe droidâs yelling at me!â
âThat means stop,â Echo said, stepping in to take the regenerator and return it to its cradle. âIt always means stop.â
Wrecker backed up, hands raised in surrender, nearly knocking into a tray of neatly arranged instruments. Omega lunged to steady it at the last second.
âCareful!â she scolded.
âHey, this room is full of stuff that looks like it wants to fall over,â Wrecker protested. âThatâs not my fault.â
ArEx chirped smugly and repositioned itself between Wrecker and the shelves, warbling either a warning or a challenge.
Synnovea watched the chaos from the corner of her eye, a faint curve touching her mouth despite herself. She turned back to the screens, cycling through the grainy footage and garishly-colored advertisements. Then one of the screens shifted.
It was nothing remarkable at first. A shaky civilian broadcast, poorly framed, the sort of thing that would never make a main segment. The foreground was taken up by a feline overseer barking orders, his voice tinny and distorted. In the background, half out of focus, a line of mismatched men and women trudging in a line, each of their wrists secured in a pair of binders, collars glinting dully at their throats. Their unenthusiastic progress was monitored by several more individuals sporting laser whips, their decoratively tooled helmets inlaid with enamel designs of an emerald hue and flared out to make room for their upright ears.
Synnovea inhaled to take another sip of cafâand froze.
The mug tipped. Hot liquid splashed across the console as she lurched forward, the cup slipping from her slack hand and clattering across the console, seeping between the keys. She didnât notice.
âArEx, replay that,â she said sharply. âChannel J-N one-eight-one, no, one-eight-two.â ArEx reacted instantly, chirping as it rolled forward to the computer and rerouted the feed. The grid of screens collapsed into one, the image expanding until it filled the wall. The audio cut out, replaced by the faint hum of the generators.
âSynnovea?â Hunter started.
âSlow it down, ArEx,â she said ignoring him. âFrame by frame.â
The footage shuddered, stuttering as the captives moved forward in painful increments. One by one, faces passed through the center of the screenâhollow-eyed civilians, bruised and exhausted, heads bowed.
She lifted a trembling hand. âBack. Two frames.â
ArEx beeped and complied.
There.
She stopped breathing.
The fourth figure in the line lifted his head just enough for the camera to catch him in profile. His hair was longer than regulation, curling awkwardly at his neck, and there was a rough shadow of a beard along his jaw that spoke of weeks without proper care. His armor was gone, replaced by a torn civilian jacket that was too tight within the shoulders.
But the faceâ
âNo,â Omega whispered, though she didnât know why yet.
Synnoveaâs fingers brushed the screen, as if the image might be warm beneath the light. As if she could reach through it.
âTriage,â she breathed.
Echo stepped closer, eyes narrowing. âThatâs a clone.â
âYes,â she said hoarsely.
Wrecker leaned in, unusually quiet. âHe looks⌠rough.â
âAre those Zygerrians?â Echoâs lip curled in distaste.
Hunter grunted. âLooks like it, but that isnât Zygerria.â
âWhat other place would be crawling with furry slavers?â
âThose guards are wearing the royal crest of the Molec family, but the green color indicates that this is Atai Molecâs heir, Prince Sono.â Tech crossed his arms and squinted at the screen. âThat would make this the planet Kowak.â
Wrecker pulled a face at that. âYou mean thatâs the place where those awful monkey lizards come from?â
âYou mean, heâs one of the troopers from Beacon squad?â Echo was asking.
âHe was their medic,â Synnovea said quietly. ArEx resumed the recording, and she looked at the line passing the camera eagerly, but no other clones were in evidence. âHe was captured alone.â Her eyes grew clouded. âWere the others with him? Did they escape, orâŚâ Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, squaring her shoulders. âNo matter, Iâve found one.â Heedless of the brown liquid dripping quietly to the floor, puddling on the console, she stumbled past her chair, yanking open the haversack she usually carried around base, and hooked her lightsaber to her side.
âAr-Ex, fire up the Kestrel. I want a flight plan to the Sevetta sector, Kowak. Go,â she insisted in a tone that brooked no disobedience. Ar-Ex squealed and spun around, nearly running over Wreckerâs toes as he sailed across the floor, burbling with impatience when Hunter palmed the front of his dome, halting his progress.
âWhoa, whoa-whoa-whoa. Youâre just leaving? No plan, no nothing?â Hunter said severely. âThis is a bad habit of yours.â
âIâll get there, then Iâll think of a plan,â Synnovea snapped, pushing past him. He caught her shoulder, and she rounded on him, teeth bared. âThis isnât what I hired you for. This has nothing to do with the rebellion, this isâŚpersonal.â
Hunter matched her glare for glare. âMight I remind you that your little ship has a you-sized hole in the bottom of it? You wonât clear the atmosphere.â
âI can get it working,â she said stubbornly, her chin lifting a notch.
âDo you even have the hyperdrive ring for the interceptor anymore?â
âMy old one might be orbiting Yavin IV still. Whatever. Iâll figure it out.â
âUh-huh.â He flung an arm out, his voice dripping with sarcasm. âLetâs assume you do. Where you gonna stash him on the ride home? That little collector item of yours barely seats one.â
âIâm sure thereâll be a larger ship on Kowak for me to âborrowâ.â
âThe Zygerrians operate their industry with the full consent of the Empire,â he growled, looming over her. âThe second they find out who you are, what you are, theyâll hand you right overââ
âI know!â she exploded, jerking away from him. âAnd you also know what the Empire does to deserters, too, donât you?â She clocked his darkening scowl, but kept going. âSo yes, Iâm going to leave without a plan and Iâm going to derp my way in there and hope for the best.â She stood there, shoulders heaving. âI need to get there before they move him. If they move himâthatâs it. I may not get another chance. Donât you get it? I owe him, Hunter,â she nearly pleaded, her face thinned down in anger. âI was their commander. I was supposed to protect them!â
âAnd, what, we just sit here on our duffs while you make a mess of everything? Extractions happen to be our specialty.â
âYeah, Iâm not wild about the idea of Declan ordering us around,â Echo drawled. âItâs bad enough when you try to do it, but at least weâre used to you.â He flipped his helmet a few times as he spoke, then slipped it over his head. âI guess weâre just going to have to tag along to make sure you come back.â
âAnd to prove we were right,â Tech added.
âRight about what?â Synnovea snapped.
âThat a mission of this caliber and difficulty requires more than one individual. Even if that individual happens to be a Jedi.â
âButââ
Omega laid a hand on Synnoveaâs arm. âRescuing other clones is sort of a side project of ours,â she offered apologetically. âSo is overcoming ridiculous odds. So, I think youâre stuck with us.â She smiled. âItâs what friends do.â
Synnovea made some wordless garbled sound of frustration, then took a deep breath, sandwiching her hands together in front of her face. With a disgruntled look that managed to encompass everyone in the room, she lowered her arms. âAr-Ex, cancel that. Weâre taking a different ship.â
Synnoveaâs hand slid along the length of her lightsaber hilt, fidgeting with the loop that attached to her belt for what felt like the hundredth time. Pulling it from her side, she ran her sensitive fingers across every inch of its familiar surface, knowing every screw, every clamp, the way the blade emitter fit so snugly that she couldnât even find the groove between it and the handle. She frowned as her touch rounded over the end; the pommel cap had come a bit loose. She tightened it, screwing it down firmly.Â
âYouâve been messing with that since we took off,â Omega noted, slipping into the jumpseat next to her. âAre you worried about him? Triage, I mean. Iâm sure youâre good friends.â
âIâd only known him for half the war,â Synnovea said, leaning back in her chair as she idly spun the handle in her hands. âIt wasnât even my squad, or battalion; it was my masterâs.â
Hunter slouched against the opposite wall, scratching his wrist. âSo, you took over the battalion mid-war. What were you doing beforehand, and what happened to your master?â
She hesitated before answering. âMy master hadâŚcertain missions issued by the Council.â
âWhat kind of missions?â
âThe kind that never get put on the books. The kind that, if we were caught, was understood that we were acting of our own volition. They wereâŚeducational, and I learned quickly. But after a few such assignments, my master stopped bringing me. Never really explained why. He simply said that he had made mistakes with his first Padawan that he wasnât going to make the second time around, whatever that meant. More and more often, I was assigned duties in the infirmary. It took a while, but I gradually began to accept that perhaps I was meant for a quieter service than I originally envisioned. Until the war changed everything, for everyone.
âThe Council used my skills for treating civilians and personnel on Christophsis after the blockade was removed, but most of the time I was assigned to the Venator Audacity.â She coughed a little. âI was apparently cheaper to recharge than a medical droid. Then, when my master was again tasked for some hidden dutiesâŚI was given the 867th in the middle of the siege on Saleucami.â
âThere must have been an adjustment phase after serving mostly a medical role for so long,â Echo commented. âFor the troops, as well.â
âThatâs putting it mildly,â she agreed with a disgusted sigh. âMy master doesnât play well with others, so the officers had grown used to running the battalion their own way in his absence. It took a while before the ice began to thaw, so to speak. Beacon Squad were the first troopers to defrost, so I knew them best.
âBattlefield theory is one thing in the classroom or the debate parlors. Itâs another thing when losing twenty units means twenty unmoving lumps on the ground, lumps with arms and legs, and faces.â Synnoveaâs gaze drifted downwards, her eyes tracing the lines in the floor paneling before she glanced up at the others, her expression somber. âForce depletion reports have a slightly different impact when you know all their names. I wasnât losing units, I was losing men.â
Her head drooped a bit lower. âI donât think they expected any more of me than to patch up a few troops and maintain the status quo. However, after several weeks I caught this wisp of a rumor that Trademaster Farsinâs children were deathly ill. The trademasterâs extended family had Separatist alliances, but I was hoping that, if I could manage to heal his family, we might forge a new agreement and gain the starport for the Republic instead. So, a few of us snuck into Taleucema one night to negotiate.â
âBargaining with Separatists seldom goes well. Did he agree to open the starport to our armies after you helped him?â Echo asked, looking skeptical.
Synnovea hesitated. âHe wasâŚmade to see reason. As I predicted, gaining control of the starport made it possible to end the siege on Saleucami.â
âAnd when your master returned, you stayed with them?â
She shrugged. âLike I said, I was a cheaper alternative than shipping additional medical supplies. Also, I was also equipped with offensive capabilities.â
Echo leaned forward slightly, his voice carefully neutral. âOffensive capabilities arenât exactly what comes to mind when I hear about a healer getting reattached as troop commander.â
Her bark of laughter was humorless and a trifle melancholy. âI learned some lessons a little too well. The only thing Iâm better at than putting things back together is taking them apart. Tactical droids. Negotiators. Secretaries of trademasters. Whatever would end the blasted war faster.â Splaying her hands wide beneath her lightsaber hilt, she slowly closed her fingers over the grooved metal cylinder. âAnd it turns out, everyone has a use for that sort of skill. Even the Jedi.â
Hunter nodded, his expression serious. âSounds like you had to adapt in ways most wouldnât understand. But sometimes thatâs what it takes to survive.â
Warbling enthusiastically, Ar-Ex whirled around the corner, his sensor lights flashing in a rapid pattern that couldnât quite keep up with the series of multi-toned beeps that issued from his tapered dome.
âNo, Ar-Ex, you need to stay on the ship.â The astromedic droid cooed dismally, and Synnovea patted him in sympathy. âWhat makes you unique also makes you stand out, and thatâs exactly what weâre trying to avoid in a stealth mission.â
Wrecker cackled raucously. âYeah,â he chortled, âthey always start that way.â
âAnd this one must remain so if we are to succeed in our endeavors,â Tech remarked critically as he tapped the interface of the screen in his hand, searching for displays of Zygerrian facilities. âA firefight will draw every single guard within the perimeter of the city. This maneuver calls for precision, not brute force.â
Rubbing his hand over his scarred baldness, Wrecker grumbled, âStealth this, stealth that. Canât we just blast our way in?â
Tech rolled his eyes. âExfiltration protocols rely heavily on covert entry, otherwise weâll compromise the entire operation. Triageâs safety is contingent upon our ability to maintain concealment.â
âAll those words mean ânoâ, right?â
Omega pointed her toes against the floor to keep from sliding off the seat as the two brothers in the cockpit continued their side argument, focusing instead on Synnovea. âDid you two get along right away, like we did?â Behind her, Hunter rolled his eyes.
Synnoveaâs smile was slow, inward. âNo,â she admitted, watching the animated debate in the cockpit, âhe sort of grew on me.â
Previous: Ch 13 / Next: Ch 15
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I'm doing some â¨YCH Commissions⨠in this style, and I have some new poses <3!
These are the â¨YCH posesâ¨:
(The poses on YCH can be modified acording to the body type and gender of the characters)
Two Characters
Poses Halfbody:
Poses Fullbody:
Three Characters:
Half body:
Full Body:
One Character:
Half body:
Full Body:
Chibi:
Two characters
One character:
-I'm doing any fandom, as well as furry, selfship, oc, dnd, furry
-If you have any question you can send me a DM or an email to [email protected], please ask me anything <3!
Also you can check me on VGen now, and you may find some more adult ych there <3
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