(no subject)

Czerka had barely held the section of the station they were using for a few days, and yet they’d already made into security filled entrance to their main HQ - Their ship, hovering outside the outpost.

Atton had put in a token effort at disguise. He’d donned a heavy work mask, featureless save a glowing amber visor, obscuring practically all his face, and the garish orange, black and white clothing of a Czerka scientist.

He had, a couple of hours earlier, caught one of Czerka’s protocol droids offguard, knocked it’s head off and reprogrammed it. Not necessary, perhaps, but amusing.

“Honestly, this is an outrage. An absolute outrage,” Atton had met enough Coruscanti bureaucrats to pull off their refined, cultured, and frankly irritating tones. “B8-D3 here, isn’t that right?”

“An outrage, master,” B8 agreed solemnly. “Why, my behaviour core is all a frazzle.”

And that, Atton reflected, was one of the many reasons he disliked droids. A little bit of fiddling and they’d be loyal to anyone.

“Mine too, B8-D3. Mine too,” Atton replied, shaking his head and jabbing one of the security guards in the chest. “I mean, golly. ID? Do you know who I am, young man? Hmm? Mr. Keever will be outraged at this.”

Beat.

”Outraged.”

B8 nodded mechanically.
“Outraged. Master Keever’s rage is a terrible thing to behold.”

“Honestly,” Atton modulated his tone to be softer, shaking his head at the flustered security guard. “I’m unarmed, see? And I’m just one man with his droid. No threat to all the security you have here.”

The security guard nodded slowly, stepping aside reluctantly.
“Alright, go on through.”

“Thank you, I’m sure. I’ll make absolutely certain to put in a good word with ... erm. My memory is terrible - The director.” Atton grinned under his mask. “Come on, B8-D3. We must hurry.”

“Yes, master. We really must hurry.” B8 agreed enthusiastically.

“B8,” Atton muttered once they were out of earshot of the guard. “Map, please.”

A glowing three-dimensional construct of the ship appeared before Atton, showing every corridor and room. A few of them were marked out in red. The engines, the power core, several weak spots on the hull, the computer core, the equipment storage rooms, the bridge.

Atton headed for the power core first, laying charges around the fuel pipes and the reactor. It was slow, boring work, made only interesting by the few odd looks passing technicians gave him as he went about it, and finding good places to hide them.

The engines weren’t much better, or the weak spots - Though Atton took a great delight in opening and closing maintenance droid’s mouths, and speaking in a high-pitched voice.

He quickly found his only audience was B8, who had no concept of a sense of humour.

The computer core relieved the monotony only for a moment, as B8 downloaded the contents of it to a datapad. The bridge, too, by virtue of having more people than anywhere else.

The last spot was the equipment storage rooms - Though, he noted as he entered, they were more one room, just with many levels along the walls, with bridges criss-crossing.

And unlike the rest of the ship, they were all suspiciously dark.

“C’mon, B8. Let’s get these last explosives set up.” Atton called over to B8, heading over to a stack of boxes and clambering up them, placing an explosive in one of them. He worked his way up through the levels, placing charges on any boxes marked as being explosive or highly flammable.

It was almost half an hour later that he dropped down to the floor, looking around.

“B8?” There was no response from the droid. “B8? Where are you, B8?” Still no response. “B8?”

“If you’re looking for the droid, Jedi Rand,” Atton instantly recognised it as Keever’s voice. “It’s over here.” Atton swung round to where Keever was standing by one of the four doors of the room, by the wreckage of B8, a smoking blaster pistol in one hand.

His face twisted into a grin that was a little brilliant for Atton’s liking.

All the doors hissed open. Silver and red armour glinting in the light, hefting massive guns, the four Mandalorian Shocktroopers Atton had seen in the hangar strode into the storage room.

Atton pulled off the mask to get a better look, putting it to one side.

“You’re unarmed.” Keever noted.

The Shocktroopers opened fire.

(no subject)

The air was glowing red.

Or it looked that way to Atton, at least. He barely had time to register where the blaster bolts were coming from, as he leapt from stack of boxes to stack of boxes, always ahead a little but never enough. The heat was scorching, singing his clothes and hair, and all he could see was red.

He swung an arm around, sending boxes flying in all directions, landing somewhere high and ducking behind a pillar.

”You’re unarmed.”

Atton swore to himself. He should have kept his weapons on him, made up an excuse for security.

But, he inwardly noted with a slight grim satisfaction, he hadn’t come without weapons.

He scanned the room. No B8. No orange or black droid in his line of sight. No Keever. Nowhere else to hide.

The Shocktroopers shrugged off the blow of the boxes, taking aim at the pillar. Atton stared around the room again.

There. A wisp of smoke, a glint of orange metal.

Atton leapt for it, soaring over the heads of the Shocktroopers and landing with a jolt by the remains of B8. He snatched what’d once been the droid’s chest and rolled behind a stack of boxes as the air turned red again.

He scrabbled with the chest compartment, prising open the catches desperately. He could hear deep laughter, the slow metallic footsteps of four men completely at ease with the prospect of a quick and brutal kill.

Silver armour glinted round the corner. The catches weren’t coming off.

None of the Shocktroopers shot as they clanked towards Atton. The first catch came off. Then the second. Then the third. The last stuck, completely still. Atton swore in every language he knew.

Something swung, and the everything turned red again as Atton fell backwards. The armoured foot had only glanced his face, and the streaming blood was pleasantly warm.

Deep laughter again. Atton swung over onto his stomach, dragging the droid’s chest towards him and wrenching the last catch open, and the compartment. His lightsaber lay inside.

A metal hand was closing around the back of his coat, dragging him up to look into the visor of one of the Shocktroopers. Atton’s eyes fixed blurrily on a line of black on his neck where the armour broke.

The lightsaber sprang up into his hand, snapped, hissed, and cleaved through the line of black. The grip loosened.

Keever’s grin grew a little broader.

The other Shocktroopers were firing again, things were exploding, they were yelling, and Atton was jumping away. Keever was below, near the door, hands stuffed in his pockets and grinning.

Atton dug his heels in to a stack of boxes and pushed off, lightsaber swinging around in a blur as he landed.

”Nobody move.”

Everything stopped.

Keever laughed softly, eyeing the point of the lightsaber at his throat.
“You have a bit of blood on your face, Jedi Rand.” He gestured vaguely.

“You don’t seem that scared.”

“I’m honestly not.”

One of the Shocktroopers took a step forward. Atton snarled wordlessly at him. He stopped.

A minute of silence and stillness. Two minutes. Three minutes.
“Call them off.”

“Or you’ll kill me?”

“Got it in one.”

Keever shook his head slowly.
“Where do you think my other mercenaries are, Jedi Rand?” His eyes twinkled jovially. “How many zoologists do you think can fend off ten battle-hardened mercenaries?”

Atton’s eyes widened. Keever tilted his head.

“Do you think Lyman-Kel Tae can fend off ten mercenaries? Do you think he’s even shot a blaster before, except to tranquilise a wayward nerf?

“You didn’t come unprepared, Jedi Rand. Neither did I. If I give the order, or if it’s relayed that I’ve died, ten mercenaries will descend upon Lyman and ... Well, kill him, I presume. Then again, a lot of them used to be torturers, and old habits, dying hard, you know what I mean.”

“You’re bluffing.” Atton snarled.

“Maybe, maybe. It’s entirely plausible that my mercenaries are in a cantina, getting drunk and being merry,” He smiled lopsidedly. “You’re a gambler, Atton. Want to bet your brother’s life on it?”

Atton scowled, flicking off his lightsaber and handing it to Keever. He took it gleefully, eyeing it.
“This isn’t yours.” Dropping it on the ground, he crushed it beneath his heel.

Atton stared at the pieces nonchalantly, putting his hands out, wrists together. Keever eyed him like he was insane.

“What are you doing?”

“Makin’ it easy for you to put on stun cuffs. You can drag me off to some ship, go collect some bounty or another, and leave Lyman out of this.”

A Shocktrooper grabbed each arm. Something gleamed sharply in Keever’s hand.
“Jedi Rand - Whoever said my employers wanted you alive?”

The vibroblade slid into his stomach. Atton grunted quietly.

“Just a grunt?” Keever looked incredulous. He flicked a switch, turning the vibroblade to it’s lowest setting. Low enough not to tear open a huge hole in him, but high enough to make things a whole lot more painful than they were. Torturer’s favourite setting.

He twisted the blade around, flicked it up a setting and back down again. Faintly, Atton heard himself scream, felt himself struggle, even as the vibroblade was dragged back out again.

Once more, red. Blood and blinding pain.

He sagged in the Shocktrooper’s grip, breathing raggedly. Air was suddenly in far too short supply.

A soft hand slid around a tuft of his hair, gently easing him up so that he could look Keever in the eyes. Smug, green eyes, clear even through foggy vision.

The vibroblade was rammed into his gut again. Atton shrieked once more, as Keever slowly, methodically, twisted it clockwise, quietly experiment with the settings. At some point, just before the vibroblade came out again, Atton’s voice went hoarse.

Atton looked down numbly. His shirt had been white and orange at some point. Now it was just all red, to match the air and his face.

Keever’s hand ran through his hair, over a shoulder. A finger slid across his Adam’s apple.
“Breathing okay?”

Atton gasped for air. The Shocktroopers gripped his arms tighter.

Keever drifted closer, rubbing a hand beneath Atton’s eyes.
“That’ll bruise.” He murmured vaguely. “Big and black and purple. Do dead people bruise?”

The vibroblade slid in again. Atton screamed silently, shaking and struggling. It twisted around, tilted to one side and as Keever lost interest, was pulled out again.

“Keep him still,” Keever said flatly, hands clenching, taking a step backwards. “And his head up.” His fists were a welcome relief. Keever laughed shrilly, taking out what must’ve been years of frustration on Atton’s frame - More and more feverish, higher and louder laughter as he landed blows on Atton’s face, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach.

He laughed until his throat went dry and his arms started aching, mirroring Atton with his own gasps for air as he dragged Atton’s face up, looked him in his eyes.

Atton didn’t need to squint or blink. The green eyes were shockingly easy to see. Surprisingly clear.

The vibroblade was back again, thrumming an inch from his throat.

“I’m going to end this,” He muttered. “I’m a nice guy like that.”

The hand with the vibroblade shifted. Keever’s eyes flashed from green to milky white.


Hear and obey.


Enough.


Leave him be.



Keever mouthed words to himself and pulled away. Eyes fading back to green.
“Leave him.”

He touched his forehead, scowling and staring down as the Shocktroopers dropped Atton carelessly.
“You’re so gullible. So gullible,” Keever breathed, with a barely restrained hysterical satisfaction. “I’m going to personally break your brother’s neck.”

He gestured to the Shocktroopers.
“Set the equipment alight.”

They paused, hesitantly.
“There are explosives here, sir. Flammable substances, too. The ship will ...”

“Set the equipment alight,” Keever hissed, touching his forehead and wincing. “And be grateful I’m not lowering your salary. Think of it as a cremation for your vod.”

The Shocktroopers obeyed, pulling tiny objects from their belts and setting them near the flammable substances. They burst into flames, spreading from box to box as they left, followed by Keever.

As ever, loyal.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Atton closed his eyes, trying to draw on the Force to heal himself. Nothing happened. He drew in a ragged breath, and found him choking on the thick smoke the already hot and widespread fire was giving off.

He tried dragging himself towards the door, and found he couldn’t - Every time he tried, the pain would make him stop again. Hacking and coughing, smoke burning his throat, he rolled over.

Something was shiny and varnished beneath him. A wooden door, in the floor. Atton tried to laugh, and ended up groaning instead.

The door opened.