FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Ebon Nest remained a region of space well-suited to hiding out from the rest of the galaxy, despite it being a region many knew about. Anomalies along its fringes disrupted accurate analyses of local star-charts, and several nebulae made hyperspace a chore to get through (though not particularly dangerous). Still, if one knew where they were headed and how to get there, it was difficult to get lost; and the Twilight Dawn had chosen one of the easier sectors of the region to traverse.

Captain Caldon was worried for that reason alone. Jinory was late.

As the human male strode with a quickened step through the ship he spared one final glance out the port-side viewport, blue eyes scanning the wide expanse of vacuum and hoping he might see the Trianii's ship pop out of hyperspace in the seconds it would take him to cross the hallway. When he passed by without seeing sign of her the sour feeling in his stomach deepened, prompting him to return his attention to his task. Without word from their adept, Caldon would need to inform her master.

Not everyone could speak to him, however. Contact with the old master was always limited in order to reduce the chances that he could be tracked, and only those with the proper clearance could do so unless the old man contacted them first. Caldon remained one of the few who had such clearance, yet could not risk having the transmission reaching the bridge. It would fall to him to have a private conversation with the old man, necessitating a trip to communications.

A guard at the door straightened up and saluted. "Sir."

"At ease," the captain said with a returning gesture. "How many?"

"Evening staff only, just two of them." He cocked his head. "Has the kid come back yet?"

"Not yet," Caldon sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Something had to have happened. I received Waxer's ping informing us she'd completed the mission, but she's a full day overdue."

"It was a dangerous mission," the guard reasoned. "The fact that she sent word ahead at all is encouraging."

"The fact that she's not here yet is not," Caldon countered. "Even Waxer would know to get back here as soon as possible, so if she were injured or dead she'd still be returned to us." He looked to the hatch. "I need to contact the old man."

The guard nodded and keyed open the hatch, allowing the captain in before following halfway into a room a several square meters in size. He nodded to the only two staff members present while Caldon spoke.

"Private call, you two. Set systems to intercept automatically and take an hour break in the galley- I'm hoping this won't take long."

"Yes sir," they both replied in unison, quickly keying in the commands before hurrying out of the communications room. The guard nodded to the captain before turning and leaving with them, sealing the hatch as he exited.

With a steadying breath Caldon turned to the holoprojector, standing in front of it as he fished a data key from his pocket. Several seconds passed as he stared at the key, a tool he'd hoped he would never have to use. The act of fitting it into a nearby console felt almost as if he were signing a death certificate, a sad acknowledgment that a gifted fighter and friend had been lost; and as the image of a robed figure appeared before him, he found his mind racing to work out what he would say.

The projection cleared and settled, a hooded figure wearing a calm, wolf-faced mask. A few seconds passed before the figure spoke. "Captain Caldon."

The captain gave a small bow. "Master Dar Tavor."

"I expected you would contact me through the usual lines eventually, yet not before my student did. Where is she?"

Caldon licked his lips, hesitating. "She is... overdue by a day. We fear she is--"

"Dead?" Dar Tavor intercepted softly. "No. She is not dead. That, I would have felt. The bond between master and student, even as tenuous a bond as she and I have, is strong enough that we would feel each other's passing." He paused for several long seconds, and though Caldon could not see the old man's face he could feel the furrow in his brow hidden behind his wolfish facade. "She is... beyond my ability to sense clearly. A shadow has fallen upon her, one familiar to me."

"Shall I organize a squad to search for her?" Caldon offered.

The old man was silent in thought for a few moments, then replied with a nod. "I sense that what comes next for my apprentice will rely on her own decisions. Hers is a path she must walk alone, but we should still ensure that she completed her task- and if she has, that her work hasn't been undone. Send your best scout to check, and then begin a search for her."

"What if she's in danger?" Caldon pressed, the words prompting him to offer some means to render aid.

"It must still be her path," he answered. "Whether the end of that path leads her to me, or to her death. But whatever happens, she will have the Force on her side."

"And Waxer," Caldon added dully, failing to inject enough confidence in his voice.

"Ah, yes," the old man mused- and now Caldon could hear a small, subtle smile in his words. "The droid may be the one to shift the tide. It would not be the first time that a droid holds the fate of the galaxy in its hands."

In another part of the galaxy, an astromech droid waited with a Jedi-like level of patience, his aural sensors picking up the discussion beyond the hull. What loud sounds could be heard from the hangar could at least be filtered out, giving it a clear playback of everything they were saying.

"Never seen anything quite like it, Deckmaster. Pirate Uglies tend to be cobbled together, not much better than a thousand-year old junker. But this one genuinely looks like something we could have produced."

A pause, then a grunt of reluctant agreement. "It took a full volley of ion blasts without blowing apart. If you'd told me this had come off of Sienar Fleet System's production line, I might've believed you. It almost looks like that TIE Striker they nearly greenlit back before the first Death Star."

"That's what I was thinking, too."

A few moments passed. "Well, nevermind that now. Did your crew get a full scan done?"

"Mostly. Still trying to parse through most of the systems. Looks like the underside took more modifications for an onboard AI, almost like an embedded astromech."

If the droid could have cursed, he would have.

"No chance of it flying out of here, though- most of the essential systems are fried, only a few subsystems are active. Want to get my crew out here to disassemble it?"

There was another pause, during which the droid experienced the mechanical equivalent of holding its breath. Finally the deckmaster answered.

"If the main systems are fried, then any on-board AI or integrated astromech would have been fried along with it. Chances are it's scrap; even if it's not, it's trapped in a ship that can't fly. In any case, orders from our lord are that we're not to strip it apart."

"Why not?"

"He's ordering it to his private hangar. I think he likes this ship, he might want it for himself- or he's thinking of trying to convert our new prisoner. She was pretty gutsy, she put six troopers down before they stunned her."

"Damn, those Jedi are terrifying," the other voice muttered. "Alright then, I'll send out the order for the hangar transfer, and I'll put an alert that no personnel are to approach it without Lord Aekkur's approval."

"Smart thinking. Throw in an hour break for your men for the hard work, too. The big guy is in a good mood."

The droid equivalent of pure relief washed over the droid as his sensors detected the sound of receding footsteps. Once he was certain to a high degree of probability that all was clear he set to work, an aperture in his chassis opening and a multi-tool triggering a nearby socket release switch.

The floor hatch beneath Waxer, requiring no power function mechanically, slid open quietly, allowing the droid to descend to the floor from the underside of the TIE's hull. For a few moments the astromech panned his head around, scanning for anyone who might have been watching and fully aware that the hangar would have had security cameras. Knowing he'd have very little time to act, he rolled away from the craft and hurried over to a console at the far end of the hangar.

Though designed for human interface to check the status of any element of the hangar itself, Waxer was fully aware the console was part of the entire ship's network. Checking to ensure that nobody was nearby, he slid his scomp link into an interface socket on the side of the console, swiftly breaking past its security system and beginning a slicing routine.

At roughly the same moment a technician exited from a nearby hatch, carrying a datapad and glancing over at the droid. "You there."

Waxer stopped short. Part of his computational output was devoted to scanning the ship's files and security systems to figure out where Jinory was, but what remained put its focus on the tech, realizing that he could not see that the droid was plugged in.

"What's the status on the new ship?"

The droid looked back to Jinory's disabled ship, then booped a query.

"Yes, that one," the tech sighed irritably.

Waxer answered as quickly as he was able, strained as he was by digging deeper into code-locked files and locating a maximum-security brig in the bowels of the ship.

"Hangar transfer? Very well, I'll bring it up with the deckmaster," the tech nodded. He started to move away, then stopped and peered at the droid. "Hold on."

The droid's circuits flared with fear, but remained still- even as he managed to get full clearance to the lift leading into the cell block.

The man's brow furrowed suspiciously. "I've never seen you before. Where's your restraining bolt?"

Knowing a single pause would give him away, Waxer responded with the only thing he could think of.

The tech folded his arms. "You're new here. Really."

A pause. Then another boop.

"Reassigned from the reactor? I'll have to check it."

A surge of fear coursed through the droid as he quickly pulled out of the files and hurried to locate droid assignments, pouring all its focus into inserting its presence into the ship's droid schedules. It was sloppy and easy to backtrack, he knew- but there wasn't enough time to provide anything more convincing.

The tech tapped as his datapad, scanning it for a few moments. After almost a minute he sighed and nodded. "Good enough, then. You're clear to keep working, but I'll want you to head to maintenance once you're done. They'll re-bolt you there."

Waxer booped, almost too happily.

The tech stared at him a few seconds longer. "Er... right. You're welcome. Get to it." With a sigh the tech shook his head and ambled away from the droid.

Waxer let out a digital whine, not unlike a sigh, before returning his full attention to the terminal. Knowing where Jinory was being held was not enough if they did not have a way to escape. In a matter of seconds he had accessed the ship's navcomputer, logging in its information into his own databanks. They were along the Outer Rim, floating some few lightyears beyond Hutt space; the next keyed trajectory would take them right into Imperial Remnant territories, a jump scheduled in ten minutes.

The droid paused, considering their options for a moment, then backtracked into restricted files. With a few idle beeps he scanned through the ship's layout, searching for any capable vessel to escape in. A full compliment of TIE fighters still lingered in the hangar, none of them with enough space for a pilot and an astromech; as he scanned each option the feeling of hope started to dwindle.

Then he found the other hangar; and that hope returned.

With a glance back he saw that the TIE variant he and Jinory had been using was now being lifted into the air by the hangar's overhead claw. Beyond the magcon field separating the ship's atmosphere from the vaccum of space, a sealed hangar hatch had slid open, just above the proper hangar. The claw and the ship followed the railway out into the vaccuum and into the new opening, before being sealed shut. There was no question that this is where the private hangar was.

He pulled away, the scomp-link withdrawing back into his chassis and looking for the last thing his plan needed- a distraction.

It had taken three stun bolts to pacify Jinory. One had struck her left arm, another had numbed her right leg, yet she had maintained enough movement and skill to put down half a dozen stormtroopers even with her synapses working against her. It wasn't until the last bolt struck the back of her head that she blacked out entirely, her consciousness lasting only long enough to feel the zap against the back of her skull.

She had awoken to a sore nose and a wrenching headache, her belongings gone- something she had fully expected. What she had_not_ expected were the unknown cuffs adorning her wrists and ankles, which did nothing to limit what already-restricted movement she could manage. In half-hour she'd awoken, sealed in a two meter wide force cage, she had gained little information on her whereabouts; whether she was on the Star Destroyer that had captured her, or perhaps in a cell block on a distant planet. With no time frame to measure how long she'd been knocked out for, it was impossible to tell.

The only thing she could say by now is that she was definitely alone. Five more force cages lined corners of the hexgonal chamber, yet not a single one was active nor held a captive within. Waxer was not one of them, though she lamented that her droid companion would likely have been caught and reprogrammed, if not scrapped on sight. With nothing else to do, she turned to the only thing she could do alone, while she still had the chance: meditate.

Half an hour of meditating after that had undone some the pain, her headache dulled into a throb. Before she could focus any further, however, a quiet hiss broke her out of her trance.

Her muscles tensed and ached as a large, sable-robed figure stepped through the hatch. The Trianii's brow furrowed at their hooded visage, groaning as she got to her feet; she was intent on breaking the silence, to prevent fear from taking root.

"Why do you darksiders always go for the grand entrance?" she asked, folding her arms. "We get it, you want to intimidate people- but at least come up with something original instead of doing the same thing."

The figure chuckled and pulled back the hood, revealing a human face. He was fair-skinned, clean-shaven with dark brown hair; and, to Jinory's eyes, seemed as unremarkable as a human could be in nearly every aspect. What set him apart from other humans, barring his impressive height and build, were his unnaturally yellow eyes and a tattoo just above his left jaw; an encircled, nine-point star Jinory recognized as an ancient Sith symbol. His smile was charming and cold, an attempt at pleasantness she did not believe for a moment.

"As you wish, Padawan," he said softly. "I often make no attempts to cow my prisoners through fear. Pain is often the better way to getting what I need."

She scowled at him. "So what are you? Another Circle lapdog, I take it?"

His laugh was contemptuous. "Those fools are merely another brotherhood attempting to be Sith. My apprentice and I saw no need to remain in their cult, no matter what boons they claim to have acquired." He folded his arms, head held high. "But I'm not here to detail my aspirations."

"Then tell me what to call you," she demanded. "And where I am."

"I am Darth Erutis Aekkur," he said impressively with a low bow. "We're on a ship headed for Remnant Territories, one that is no doubt familiar to you."

The Trianii glared at him, dark memories of Imperial imprisonment resurfacing. "I remember it. Though you didn't have these fancier cells back then, and I don't recall ever meeting you before."

"No, you would not have," Aekkur agreed, circling the cell and gazing at her thoughtfully. "Back then you were beneath my notice, and given the damage the vessel sustained I had my priorities elsewhere. But young as you were, my superiors believed that you were potentially useful, provided you could be turned."

"By who?" she snorted, not bothering to turn her eyes as he paced around the barrier. "Some wannabe Sith pretender? The line died with Palpatine and Vader; if I'm expected to believe that you have all the knowledge and power they possessed, then your Sith will die out before you find your first apprentice."

"Oh, I already found one," Aekkur chuckled. "You've met."

"... The scavver you sent."

"He, like I, believed that the Circle of Syn are wasting their time and resources, though I'm sure he had his own grand designs to seize power away from me," the dark lord explained. "He was useful but foolish, and ultimately unworthy to be my apprentice. You might think that you have angered me by eliminating him, but you'd be mistaken."

"Really," Jinory scoffed as he came back into her line of sight. "And why is that?"

He stopped circling standing before her with a broad smile.

"Because you are here."

Before she say a word in response the atmosphere around her changed; she let out a gasp as the floor and ceiling pulsed, emanating a tremendous surge of energy in the space between them. Without warning she was lifted into the air, suspended dead center in the middle of the cell. On reflex her arms and legs lashed out in a panic, only for them to seize up as if bound in duracrete blocks. Her eyes flicked to the cuffs on each of her wrists, now aware of their purpose as they completely prevented any attempt at movement.

"What is this?!" she snarled.

"Equal parts containment and torture," Aekkur explained, still smiling. "A little remnant of Geonosian technology."

Her biting reply was cut off as a sharp jolt blasted against her wrists and ankles, the charge zapping through every nerve in her body until they cascaded in her chest. A choked yelped tore through her, fur standing on end from the unexpected assault.

"I'll tell you now that I intend to make you an offer to stand at my side, as my new apprentice," he continued. "But I will only offer it after giving you a few days in here to break your will. You do not want to stay in here; prolonged exposure to a gravcon field can cause irreparable brain damage, and as long as it is active you will not be able to call upon the Force."

She groaned, hearing and feeling the truth in his words. The Force was still there, ever-present in all things, but it was like being a child again- only the barest echo of it lingered in her mind. Despite this, she turned a glare to him.

"This... won't be enough," she spat. "I'll... never join you."

"I suppose you expect some form of rescue," he stated casually. "I'm sure your companions would do all they can to find where you are. They lack my advantages."

"They'll find me," she hissed- another shock coursed through her and she cried out in pain.

Now Aekkur was leaning in, a grave look on his face. "Believe me, child... it's not worth dying for that old fool."

A cold feeling stabbed into the Trianii's stomach. "... Who?"

"You know precisely who I'm talking about," he told her. "You never asked yourself for a moment why he was there, did you? Why would I have kept an ancient Jedi Master alive, when he had no ties to the Rebel Alliance or even his broken Jedi Order? And how could I, even as skilled as I am now, have ever hoped to have captured him in the first place when he was, and still is, so adept at remaining hidden?"

Jinory stared at him, trembling at the implications.

"Go on," he pressed. "Ask me."

The draw was too much. Between the pain and the fear growing within, the thirst for even poisonous knowledge heightened.

"... How...?"

"The same way I intend to use you," he laughed coldly, and now his smile lacked all pretense of warmth. "Your master lives; you still live. I will find him the same way I captured him the first time- by using his own student as bait."

"No..."

"And you will join me," he continued. "When you see and feel the betrayal that I once felt; when you realize what he kept hidden from you so you would never fulfill your potential... then you will understand your place by my side." He stepped back, gesturing to the cage. "Or... you will die. Consider your options, child- your life is more valuable than your death."

He turned away impressively, his cape fluttering in his wake as he drew back his hood and strode away.

Jinory did not even watch him leave, anticipating the next jolt that lanced through her synapses. She whimpered, shuddering from the pain, desperately hoping salvation would come.

And as the minutes passed, each marked with another burst of pain, that dim hope was quickly fading.

Working with Jinory had exposed Waxer to no shortage of adventuring and dire situations, but subterfuge and stealth were not among those experiences. A Force-sensitive operating in Imperial Remnant territories would require no shortage of skill and discretion in order to avoid notice, and it was not uncommon for the Trianii to have a team on-hand to help her infiltrate areas and escape dire situations. What few times she was forced to operate solo, she at least had Waxer to fall back on when she required aid; but never once had she been captured, forced to rely on a droid who had no means of properly employing stealth.

Still, as he rolled out of the hangar and through the halls of the Star Destroyer, it became apparent that there was no need for cautious movement. Waxer's presence on the ship was no curiosity to the many who passed him by, some of them standing aside or sidestepping him as he continued. As he finally reached the reactor he pondered on whether he should be insulted or relieved that he was brushed off so easily, hiding in plain sight as if he was nothing more than boring decorum.

"Move it, clanker!" a guard barked grumpily, nearly knocking Waxer off his wheels as he forced his way past the hatch.

The droid settled on feeling insulted- just another example of his existence being perceived as a tool at best, an object at worst. With an irritable sputter Waxer rolled past, focusing his attention on the reactor itself.

The tall, luminous pillar pulsed as swirls of cyan energy pulsed through the transparisteel piping, connected at the floor and ceiling by many hundreds of conduits spreading out in every direction. Every ten seconds or so the conduits would hiss as one, releasing heat buildup. To even a skilled technician the sight would be dizzying, the idea of categorizing where each conduit led to nightmarish at the least; a veritable viper's nest of energy with seemingly no point of reference to see where each one lead, beyond the red and blue coloration that seemed to hold to no pattern. Even the control nodes that split pairs of tubes into dozens more did nothing to help.

To a droid, it was laughably simple.

Waiting only a moment to watch a diminutive mouse droid scurry out of the way, Waxer rolled toward a subsection of the piping, opposite the hatch. Not a single technician in the expansive room paid him any heed, eyes glued to their datapads or dozing off at their stations with very little to do. The droid only stopped until he was directly below one such node, rotating once around the spot to make sure nobody was watching, then waiting.

HISS!

Timed perfectly, a compartment on the top of Waxer's dome slid opened and fired a palm-sized disc strait up into the air. The sound of magnetized metal clanging together was drowned out in the sharp din permeating the massive chamber, the disc sticking flat against the frame. With a quiet sputter of satisfaction Waxer moved on, rolling to the opposite side of the room beneath another node, then waiting once more.

HISS!

Drowned out by the sound, nobody heard the second disc shoot into the air some thirty feet before arming and catching on to the node. From any position it simply looked like another part of the unit itself, its red flashing diode hardly a giveaway that it was different among the others that flashed with it. Certain that his actions hadn't been noticed he rolled away, briefly stopping at a scomp-link access point near the reactor and jacking into the console. A technician looked up at him, having finally noticed his presence.

"We still need those readings, little guy," he said evenly. "Logging them in?"

Waxer was already on it, having disabled security in the middle of the man's sentence, and sputtered an acknowledgment. In seconds the droid had finished the task, the booped a query.

The technician held up his hand, staring at his datapad, then nodded. "Just came in. Fluctuation at the rear of the ship, that's probably Lord Aekkur dealing with the prisoner," he muttered to himself, before glancing at the droid. He paused, frowning for a moment. "Where's your restraining bolt?"

Waxer booped a smooth answer, then a query.

"Yeah, sometimes carbon buildup will do that," the tech shrugged. "If they released you for work that's good enough, but you might as well roll on over to maintenance to see if the replacement bolt is ready- there's not much left to do here," he sighed.

Waxer beeped an affirmative and pulled away from the console, feeling very proud of himself as he rolled past the technician and out the hatch.

There was no way to know how much longer his luck would hold- but as he began to race down the corridors towards the restricted parts of the ship, he felt sure enough that it didn't need to hold much longer.

It was a situation in which Jedi training could not help her. The barest ripple of the Force could not hold against the pain that assaulted her nerves, yet should found herself trying anyway. There was a rhythm, a timing to which the shock would come and sear through her body, and while the Force could not offer umbrage to the attack, steeling herself and bracing for it had allowed her to endure it for far longer than she would have thought.

She loosened up and gasped, her agile body aching from the constant torture; but it was not, she had by now realized, meant to emphasize pain. Every charge she suffered seemed to dull her senses a fraction, her vision blurry from both tears and fatigue. Where her mind might have otherwise been a bulwark against mental intrusion, she could feel herself slipping, the defenses being eroded like a cannon against the stone. By now, there was almost no hope left in her.

Then a boop filtered into her ears.

She almost didn't feel the shock blast through her again, a rush of adrenaline surging through her veins as her blurry vision fell on Waxer. The droid had stopped only a meter away from the prison, surveying her and rolling back as she reacted to his worried query.

"Waxe--agh!" She seized up again, breathing through the pain before trying again, a tired smile on her muzzle. "Waxer... you found me..."

The droid beeped quickly, looking around the chamber.

"I... dunno what you said," she groaned. "But we can't stay here. There's a Sith pretender on-board. If they scan our hyperspace vector from you, they'll find out where everyone is."

Waxer let out a sputter, then rolled away from the energy cage towards a console in the corner. Jinory waited patiently, knowing it was do no good to press him to hurry; and she was too tired to muster any anxiety by now. The ambient hum of the prison lowered in tone, and at once she could feel the cuffs on her wrists and ankles give way, allowing her to move once more.

She instead dropped to the floor, gasping and curling up into a ball. Even with Waxer here, she could only take comfort in the fact that she would at least not die alone, with at least one friend to protect her. So many allies, and yet few she could count as friends- it was hard not to think of Syrra in these final moments, wondering what the Trianii would do, how she could help her.

"Everything... it hurts, I can't... I can't feel the Force," she whimpered, shivering.

A worried whistle drew her gaze up at the droid, who was bending over her. She stared up at Waxer, trying to imprint his appearance into her memory- only to flick her eyes away when a compartment on his chassis slid open. From the small, slim aperture was a tiny glass cylindrical injector, containing a luminescent green liquid.

A stimpack.

Jinory smiled up at Waxer, that spark of hope catching aflame as he rolled it into her paw; her vision now more blurry with tears.

"I can always... count on you, my friend."

It had taken three full minutes for Jinory to feel even halfway capable of moving, her muscles still sore from the physical strain she had endured, but she had the benefit of Waxer watching over her while she recovered, the bacta/kolto compound doing its job. In that time nobody entered the room. Her mind, at least, was far more clear; clear enough that she could feel the Force again, though it came with a raw sensation of fatigue along with it. It was enough for her to finally feel the presence of others on the ship, distant enough that she could breathe easily- the area was likely restricted only to Aekkur and those he trusted.

If nothing else she had the presence of mind to notice Waxer trying to guide her, though there was no way to tell where he was leading her to. Still, knowing she would not get an answer that she understood from him she followed anyway, ears perked for any sounds beyond the hum of the ship- and wary of the security holocams in each hallway.

"Someone should have spotted us by now," she muttered. "There's no way they aren't scanning these halls, even if they are restricted."

Waxer sputtered in response, and even to Jinory it sounded like a scoffing noise.

The Trianii paused and peered at him. "What did you do?"

Waxer merely beeped an unknown reply, his dome spinning side to side as if he were shaking his head. It was enough for the feline to suspect he had done something to conceal their escape, and so she said nothing, following him down the rest of the hall before stopping at a viewport.

Her heart nearly leapt into her throat as she spotted her TIE Rapier on the other side, in what she could now see was a private hangar. She turned to Waxer, who was already linked into the door's scomp socket.

"You knew this was here," she said, proud of her droid companion. "You did great, Waxer."

The droid beeped happily, though there sounded like a tone of excitement lacing it. He pulled away from the socket, the door sliding open and hurried inside, the Trianii following closely- what little hope had sparked was starting to fade as she remembered how she ended up getting captured, a sigh passing through her muzzle as Waxer rolled ahead.

"If we had the time and tools, we might be able to fix her," she said doubtfully, putting a paw on the ship's hull. "But it'll take at least an hour to replace all the ionized components. There's no way out." She gazed out past the mag-con field, the entire length of the ship ahead. "And even if we were able to get past their laser batteries, we'd still be stuck in their interdiction field. They'd send squadrons out for us for sure, and then we're back at square one."

Waxer did not seem to be listening, rolling past the ship entirely. She frowned, following him around the damaged fighter. "Hey, where are you goi-"

She stopped short as soon as she saw it.

The hangar, at least fifty meters wide, had yet another ship in it, one she'd not seen in years. Like the Rapier it was modified from separate ship parts; but where the Rapier was cobbled together from TIE variants, this ship was a seamless blend of an X-wing's central hull and an E-wing's wing frame, painted black and red.

"My EX-wing," she said softly. "They... kept it here this whole time."

"And it can be yours again," a voice behind her echoed in the wide space. "You need only join me as my apprentice."

She did not turn, her paws balling into fists as a growl rumbled through her. "I figured this was too easy."

"You have a clever droid at your side," Aekkur told her, his footsteps getting closer. "Bold, too, to be able to disable my ship's security holocams and mount a rescue attempt by itself. I would allow you to keep your companion to serve you." The steps stopped, and now she turned, facing the smiling Sith pretender. "I ask only that you serve me."

She glared back. "You betrayed my master already. Sith know only of betrayal. All you would do is stab me in the back once I give you what you want."

"What other choice do you have?" he asked her, drawing his weapon from his side.

"Resist," she said, bringing her paws up in a fighting stance, her synapses still tingling but her nerve hardening, steeling herself. "To my last."

Aekkur laughed coldly. "Brave. Bold. And utterly insipid. I will not kill you- but I will make it hurt."

She took in a deep, calming breath, her tail flicking to the side three times to the left.

"I'm not alone. The Force is with me."

She charged at him, crossing the distance to him in seconds as he raised his weapon, aiming a slash at her neck. She was within his range when it happened.

An immensely bright flash exploded behind her, Aekkur's eyes going wide as he followed through with his weapon, just as the Trianii dropped to her knees and slid across the smooth durasteel floor, her paw reaching out and slapping against the darksider's other hip. With a snarl he slashed again, his attack blind as she rolled forward and back up to her feet, holding her reclaimed lightsaber up and activating it.

"And so is Waxer," she reminded him, sparing the droid a brief smile for the distraction he'd provided.

The Sith pretender turned to her, pupils still constricted but the look on his face concentrated. "I'll remember to wipe his memory painfully," he rumbled.

He lunged in and slashed, the still-weakened Trianii barely catching his blade. A slight groan passed through her as her jangled nerves were assaulted, the shock of the impact jolting through her aching arms. She stepped back but he followed, weaving his blade into her defenses. With a grimace she quickly realized that even half-blinded, he could see her clearly enough to fight.

He lunged again and she rolled out of the away, blade held downward as she aimed an upward sweep at his exposed side. Before her lightsaber was halfway there, a weight slammed into her back, her spine exploding with pain as she yelped and staggered forward. She had just enough presence of mind to stop short, stomping her foot to the floor and heaving backwards, just in time to avoid Aekkur's blade grazing her chest. Another slash made her backpedal, the heel of her foot catching against an object and tripping her up.

She caught a brief glimpse of the cargo crate she'd stepped back into, dimly aware that this was what had hit her from behind- guided by her opponent's stronger connection to the Force. With a questionable grace she flipped through the fall back to her feet. The container slid across the floor towards her and she leapt into the air, landing just as Aekkur darted in again.

Another exchange between them, Jinory struggling to keep up with her clearly more-experienced foe. A flare in her senses spiked and she leaned to the left, grunting as the container struck her right shoulder. The pain slowed her down fractionally, just long enough for Aekkur to slash again, cutting a burn against the sleeve of her robe- but no deeper. She backpedaled again; the container followed. With a snarl she brought her blade down in an overhead slash, cutting the flying container apart.

It was the opening Aekkur had been looking for- and Jinory realized it a microsecond too late.

The container pieces hadn't even hit the floor when another blast of Force energy caught her in the chest and sent her sailing back, hitting the deck hard. Hissing in pain she mustered enough focus for her to roll back onto her feet and angle her blade up, catching the stab she only barely saw coming.

Her defense was too slow.

The Sith pretender's blade catching her against the side and burning a shallow gash just below her right breast.

It was enough to make her scream; and long enough for it to be silenced as Aekkur's blast of Force energy slammed her into the nearby wall. The scream ended with a gasp, hearing the dull crack of her ribs followed by the searing heat of pain; yet as she slid down the wall wracked with agonizing pain, she managed to plant her feet to the floor and stay upright. Knees buckling as they kept her standing, she raised her blade and defended another two strikes, mind screaming as she fought back the pain and her captor. She leaned and staggered to her left, another burn searing through her right shoulder as he'd managed to graze her once again, intent on removing her arm.

Her reaction was instinctive, desperate- and successful. With a blind sweep of her cyan blade, and despite the agony it caused her to attack, she matched the injury and gouged a deeper gash into his own right shoulder. He roared and slashed back, just as the Trianii staggered back out of range.

"I will have you, apprentice!" he hollered, as she raced as fast as she could to her EX-wing. "I can keep _half_of you intact, as long as you're alive- but you will serve me!"

She was nearly at the ship when she felt a tight pressure on her neck, her eyes widening as she was lifted into the air, clawing at her throat. She rotated slowly, helplessly, until she was facing the enraged Sith pretender, the dark figure standing by her TIE Rapier.

He glared up at her, holding out his lightsaber before releasing it. The weapon remained suspended in the air, before beginning to spin around like the blade of a mechanical rotor.

"Enough of this. I will leave only enough of you intact to keep you alive; and will not need your legs."

She gasped for air, kicking helplessly as the lightsaber drew close to her. She needed only enough oxygen, enough time to issue a final command. The grip on her neck loosened a fraction and she drew in a short, sharp breath, her vision blurring- but he mind clear enough to speak.

"Waxer!" she choked out. "Blow it!"

The Sith weapon was only a foot away when the hangar seemed to explode, a fireball erupting in the middle of the room. The force of it blew her back into the EX-wing, molten-hot pain roiling through her body as she fell to the floor.

She awoke with a gasp, face pressed against a warm durasteel deck. The pain came after, enough to wake her. Her ears were still ringing, a dull noise around barely audible.

With burning nerves she pushed herself off the floor, gasping as the pain nearly made her double over. Her paw reached out blindly, grabbing the edge of her ship's wing and giving her a means to pull herself up to her feet. Now upright, she could see the smoldering remains of her TIE Rapier, now a heap of burning wreckage strewn around the hangar.

Her eyes flicked to the back of the hangar, on the prone form of her captor. Aekkur's robes and body were burned, part of the right side of his face blistered and bleeding. Even halfway across the hangar she could tell he was alive, conscious- but in no shape to fight.

Nor was she.

What desire she felt to end his life on the spot was outweighed by the desire to leave- which only spiked as her ears finally stopped ringing. Now the sound of a ship-wide siren was all too apparent, echoing through the hangar. There was no time to rest or reflect. Despite every fibre in her body wailing in objection, she forced her muscles to move, stumbling towards the ladder leading into the cockpit. She whimpered as every rung she scaled seemed to drain her energy, feeling more in pain now than she had been after her torture.

The hangar seemed to lurch, the lighting overhead flickering as she nearly feel off the ladder, clinging to it. A nearby beep drew her attention, Waxer secured snugly in the astromech socket. A whine was emanating from the ship, its systems and engines powering up.

"What... was that you?" she asked weakly.

He beeped in the affirmative, but a hurried frenzy of whistles followed, telling her through their urgency what she knew, even without knowing what he'd said- there was no time.

When she finally reached the top she doubled forward and fell inside, crying out as the fall aggravated her injuries. She groped around for the cockpit's hatch controller, but Waxer was one step ahead, the canopy closing in on her. Before she could even muster the strength to reach for the stick, the computer display lit up.

"I have this," Waxer told her. "I need you to trust me now. I'm going to get you out of here."

"Waxer..." The Trianii's eyes watered, partly from the pain; but mostly from the gratitude.

"Thank me when you're safe. Just hold on!"

She grabbed the cockpit's brace handles, leaning back in the seat as the ship lifted off from the floor. Seconds later the engines roared, her EX-wing blasting out of the hangar and into the vacuum of space. When seconds had passed without any report of turbolaser fire, Jinory peered to the side. There had to be at least twenty turbolasers on the port-side surface of the specialized destroyer.

Not a single one of them was firing.

"Waxer... what did you do?" she breathed softly.

"I blew two power conduits in their generator room; one for the turbolasers, the other for the tractor-beams."

"... You're amazing." She hissed in pain, looking around. "The interdictor... where--"

"It jumped ahead," he answered. "Don't talk, conserve your strength. I'll get us back home--"

"No!" she said, jerking upright- and crying out as the action aggravated her injuries. She could feel something was wrong, a coldness within- and a fear of inevitability. "No... not home," she whimpered. "They can track out vector, we need... we need someplace safe. An allied outpost..."

"Home is quickest..." There was a pause. "Jinory... you will die if you don't get medical attention soon. The nearest allied outpost is days away. I've done everything in my power to get you this far- you need to trust me on this."

"He... was going to use me as bait," Jinory muttered, head swimming with pain. The cold feeling was growing, her vision blurring. "If we go home... it has to be an outpost."

"No." Another pause. "... But there is another option."

A beeping on the console broke the conversation. She groaned, shivering as more than a dozen blips showed up on her sensors.

"They're coming for us," she said.

"Shifting power from weapons to engines. I can outrun them long enough for this jump."

"But... where--"

"I'm taking you to Yavin 4."

She stared at the screen, re-reading the words three times. They disappeared as he continued.

"After all... you wanted to see Syrra again."

The cold feeling lingered, as did the blurred vision. But even as she recognized these symptoms of internal bleeding, her fear evaporated- a smile finally formed on her muzzle. Before she could even answer the ship was swinging around, the hum of its hyperdrive revving up bringing her a sense of calm.

"Yeah... take me there, good buddy."

As the stars streaked into lines of light, propelling the pair into the blue tunnel of hyperspace, all pain seemed to fade away. She knew she would be alright; not because she knew Syrra would help them.

It was because Waxer was with her.