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zargsnake · 3 years

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Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 7: Jane

Word Count: 2217 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

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Freed, with the help of the little screwdriver Anakin gave her, on the lower floor of the space station, Zlinky uses the nearest control panel to disable the local electricity. The already dark lower-prison hall turns completely black.

As an Akarn, Zlinky has a third eye in the middle of her forehead which can adapt to almost any environment. Many droids have night vision too, but Zlinky has observed from her time in captivity that droids are poorly kept here. Knightkiller, with her telepathic powers and abundant riches, holds sway over the organic beings in her employment; the guards and patrons here are all devoted to her. But Knightkiller has neglected her mechanical servants. They are all falling into disrepair, and Zlinky has even detected them grumbling among themselves.

People forget too easily that droids, nowadays, have extremely advanced personalities. Adults underestimate how independently-minded their droids can be. But children understand. They have never known droids to be any other way.

Zlinky sneaks down the hall, past the fumbling guards. Other prisoners soon realize that their own electrobars have become deactivated, and they start to emerge into the hallway too, their arms outstretched in front of them, tripping and feeling their way through the dark. Zlinky maneuvers through them with a small measure of grace and a large measure of scrutiny.

Lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers, lightsabers. I must find all four. Once we've found them, we'll be unstoppable.

Suddenly, a guard grabs her from behind. A Togruta -- he must have used echolocation. Zlinky squirms against his arms, then stabs behind her wildly with the screwdriver. She isn't sure where she hit him -- the stomach, possibly. But he howls in pain and loosens his grip. She slithers out and leaps, calling upon the Force to help her. She hits her head on the hallway ceiling, but the ploy, otherwise, works. Holding her head, she stumbles around the corner and sees a door marked “Storage.”

Maybe our lightsabers are here? Well, SOMETHING useful must be in here! All I have now is this flimsy little tool.

But she does feel extremely grateful for the little screwdriver, and she hopes Anakin will let her keep it. She would call it good luck, if she believed in that stuff. Instead, she'll call it exceedingly useful. She picks the lock to the storage room with the screwdriver, which takes a frighteningly long minute, dashes inside, and shuts the door behind her.

Zlinky sees cabinets and closets and boxes full of files and records, piles of office and medical supplies. Who would think running a death sport would be so bureaucratic? The haphazardness offends her Temple-trained sensibilities.

But most importantly, she sees, in the corner, a rusted old murder-droid, missing much of its plating and bent over in disrepair. Its shape is about as humanoid as her own, though a couple feet taller. Compassion moves her to approach it. She sees that someone has scribbled a face with two X's for eyes and a frown on a little yellow piece of paper and taped it over the murder-droid's face to signify its death. She yanks the paper off and examines the droid’s busted innards.

There's a flipzipter. A gavel gear. A pair of old-fashioned mono-trammers. It's really not too different from the diner-droids on which she learned robotic engineering. A gunky substance has clogged its gears; she tries to scrape it off with the screwdriver, but she can't get a grip on it with that. She takes a nervous glance at the bulky laser blasters on its back, then plunges her own claws into its chest and scoops out the goop. She pulls out a burnt-up square of metal which was caught in the goop; upon closer inspection, she guesses that it used to be a memory chip. Oh well -- it's useless now. She bends the flipzipter back into its standard position, and reattaches the wires that had become unplugged from it.

With a tiny jolt of electricity that shoots through the Padawan and makes any hairs loose from her braid stick out, the murder-droid wakes up, its red eyes the only light in the darkness.

“ʙʟᴢᴢᴋᴢᴢɢᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀ! ᴀᴀᴀᴀʜ!! AAAAAHHHH!!!! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?! ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ?! ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?!”

“Shhh!” Zlinky pulls her sticky hands out of its chest and throws them on top of its mouth-slot -- her mouth-slot, she supposes, since the droid has a feminine voice. “Keep it down! The badguys are looking for me!”

In a muffled voice, the murder-droid responds, “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ YOU! ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ME?”

“Well you SHOULD care about me! I just saved your life!”

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ?”

“Yeah, I repaired you, you ungrateful bucket of bolts!”

The murder-droid issues whirring noises from several parts. “ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ!”

“Well I'm not finished! I just started! And if you don't keep it down I never will!”

The murder-droid narrows the dots of light that project her eyes. “ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ?”

“Well... I'll check your brain-text, but I'm not optimistic.” Zlinky unscrews a panel on the side of the droid’s head. “Yeah. It's like I thought. You've been pirated. They scraped off your original ID number.”

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ?! ʙᴜᴛ -- ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ!”

“Nobody's nothing. They must have called you something. Unfortunately, at least one of your memory chips has melted. I think.”

With a squeaking sound, the murder-droid raises her claw to her forehead. “ᴏʜ... ᴍʏ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴍɪɴᴅ…”

“Hey, don't worry about it. These bozos didn't respect you, but you're with the Jedi now.”

“ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Yeah, like me! I'm a Jedi! My name is Zlinky Zalt.”

“ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴜᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜰʟᴀᴜɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ᴄᴏɴꜱɪᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴏɴᴇ.”

“Uh, sorry. Well, let's find you a name; what do you do--?”

Zlinky accidentally zaps herself with an open wire and bites her lip in a grimace.

The murder-droid’s eyes become scattered dots that beep quickly and softly. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ: NEUTRALIZE.”

“Neutralize?”

Her eyes flicker back to solid red. “ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Neutralize what?”

Her eyes become scattering dots again. “ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ᴍᴀɪɴꜰʀᴀᴍᴇ ... ʜᴀʀᴅᴡᴀʀᴇ ... ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ... ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ... ʙᴢᴢᴛ ... ꜱᴇᴀʀᴄʜɪɴɢ ... ‘ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ’ ... ‘ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ’ ... вzzт ... b҉z҉z҉t҉ ... ᴛᴀʀɢᴇᴛ: ERROR.” Her eyes flicker back to red, but with the sides tilted down in sorrow. “ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛᴇᴅ.”

“Hey, it's okay. The Jedi can get you a new purpose. As long as your programming isn't hopelessly violent…”

“ᴡʜᴇɴ? ʜᴏᴡ ꜱᴏᴏɴ?”

“Well I don't know. As soon as I can get you back to the Temple.”

“ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ ɢᴏ.” The murder-droid stands up straight.

“Wait!” Zlinky pulls some wires apart.

“ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ʟᴇɢꜱ! ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪxᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ!”

“Yeah, I did. Your purpose right now is to stay put.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴡᴀꜱᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ.”

“Deal with it. Patience is an ability, too.”

“ɪꜰ ᴀʟʟ ᴊᴇᴅɪ ᴀʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ.”

“Fine. Do you want me to shut you down again?”

“ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ ʙᴜᴢᴢ, ɢʀᴜᴍᴍᴍm҉m҉m̵̧̌̍͋̆b̸̧̙͈͈̓̌̌ĺ̵͕͔͇͔͎̠̗͈͍ͅe̷̖͎̳͖̬̅́…”

“I'll take that as a no.” The droid is silent as Zlinky works on her. “I'm sorry we're not at the Temple right now. Believe me, I want to be there far more than you do.”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɪɴ ᴀɴ ᴇxɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜰʟᴜx.”

I have to repair her mind AND her body! thinks Zlinky.

“Uh, okay, listen. How about I give you a temporary name and a temporary mission right now. Just to tide you over until we get back home. Er, I mean, back to the Temple.”

“ʜʀʀᴜᴍᴍʜʜᴘᴘʙᴢᴢᴢ ʙᴢᴢᴛ ʙᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴇᴘ.”

Zlinky spins a cog and sees a panel of lights in the droid’s guts turn on. She thinks she’s nearly got her -- then she hears the weapons on the droid's back powering on. The young girl swallows nervously.

“Okay, your temporary mission is to protect me and the three other Jedi: my master Tila Juna, a 500-year-old gray Lollian with one broken horn -- Anakin Skywalker, a 9-year-old human with pink skin and yellow hair and blue eyes -- and -- uh -- his master too.”

“ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴛᴀʟʟɪ-- ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ. ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪꜰʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛʜ ᴊᴇᴅɪ!”

“I can't! I don't remember their name! I'll know them when I see them.”

“ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴊᴇᴅɪ?”

“Well, first of all, only neutralize when absolutely necessary.”

“... ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ... ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ... ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ.”

“Oh gimme a break!”

Maybe this is a mistake, thinks Zlinky. I don't want to go on a rampage. But I must get out of here! I have to get back to Tila! That's my top priority!

“Look, I'm very sneaky,” Zlinky says, reassuringly. “You might not have to neutralize anyone. You just have to protect me.”

“... ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴅꜱ, ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴀꜰᴛ ᴀ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴏꜰꜰᴇɴꜱɪᴠᴇ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ.”

Zlinky replies, smugly, “Well I do it every day. That's what being a Jedi is all about! Protecting the innocent, defending the law!”

“... ʙʟʀʀʀɢɢɢɢ.” The droid’s eyes become one annoyed horizontal line of dots. “ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ... ᴀʟɪɢɴɪɴɢ ... ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ ɪɴꜱᴜꜰꜰᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Oh come on, grow up. It's good to be the hero.”

“ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ‘ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʀʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ,’ ᴛᴏᴏ.”

“Yeeeah. I did. Um ... Jedi ... Jedi ... Temple ... Temple Bot? Teebee?”

The murder-droid shudders. “ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ? ᴛᴇᴇʙᴇᴇ?”

“What's wrong with Teebee?”

“ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ.”

“Beggars can't be choosers.”

“ɪᴅ: REJECTED. ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ: ɪɴᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀᴛɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍɪɴɢ. ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ.”

“Jedi Bot? Jaybee?”

Goop dribbles out of the droid’s mouth slot.

“Alright then... Neutralize. Neutralizer. Jedi ... Jedi Neutralizer. No. Wait. That sounds wrong.”

“ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the murder-droid says quickly.

“Ah, wait!”

“ᴊᴇᴅɪ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟɪᴢᴇʀ.”

Zlinky sighs. “Fine. Jedi Neutralizer. JN.”

“ᴊɴ. ᴊᴀɴᴇ.”

“Jane?”

“ᴊᴀɴᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ,” the droid repeats.

“Me too,” Zlinky responds, truthfully.

As soon as Jane is functionally repaired, Zlinky finds her a battery pack, since they have no time to recharge her. She looks around for a new memory card, but finds nothing. Oh, well. Jane will just have a very short-term memory until they find new hardware for her. Without the card, she can't have any more than one gig of memory. Zlinky will just have to keep reminding her that her name is Jane and her purpose is to protect the four Jedi. Zlinky fears that Jane will forget this and kill her on accident. That would be very ironic. But for now, Zlinky is glad to have her.

Once they leave the storage room, Zlinky points to a guard and begins to command Jane to knock them out, but Jane has already blasted them.

“Ah! Are they alive?” Zlinky whispers in terror.

“ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ?”

Zlinky cautiously approaches the body. “...They're alive. Keep your blaster at exactly that setting, okay? Don't change anything.”

“ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ.”

“Great.”

She tugs the armor off the guard and puts it on herself. Together, they quietly leave the lower prison in absolute chaos and locate the space station employee break room and quarters across a hall. Zlinky finds a station map on the employee computer, which someone had, happily, left logged in.

She finally gets a good look at the layout of the station. The lower floor has a prison and under-arena logistical areas; the main floor has the arena, gladiator rooms, and the best seating; and the upper floor has another prison and the balcony cheap seats.

She searches for where Knightkiller could be. Tila recognized Knightkiller as her old friend Glagret, and told her Padawan so before they were separated. Zlinky knows that the key to escaping, and to stopping this whole evil enterprise, is Glagret. Why has she turned evil? Why did she gather all these crooks together? Why is she mind-tricking Jedi children?

Zlinky figures there must be something controlling her. She imagines striking the implement off the old alien’s brain and rescuing her, restoring her to her true, good self.

What happened 400 years ago on the Liberated Comet? If she was alive, why didn't she come back?

One Padawan and one droid probably don't stand a chance against her.

Zlinky sees in the screen projection that Obi-Wan is fighting in the arena, and Tila is being held as bait. Zlinky wonders why Anakin isn't. She guesses, with a heavy heart, that Obi-Wan was so stubborn about playing along that they killed Anakin in retribution. She feels her guts writhe with fear and anger at the thought. The boy was so kind, and clever, and so very strong in the Force, strong enough to resist a mind-trick -- unheard of at his age -- even though it was stupid of him to try. Perhaps his last legacy is the screwdriver. She will not let him die in vain.

Unless, of course, he's still alive. She wonders if, perhaps, he escaped, just as she has…

She hears an ominous whirring sound, drifting away.

“Jane! Don't wander off.” Zlinky grabs Jane’s rifle-barrel and pulls her back to her side. “Stay with me. You must protect me; it is your purpose.”

“ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?”

“... Call me Guard.”

“ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ.”

Zlinky looks around nervously at the other guards. She grabs Jane's head and whispers into her audio-slot. “Zlinky Zalt. But don't say so. I'm in disguise right now. So shhh.”

“ᴀʜʜʜʜ. ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ.”

“Uh, good.” The confidence in Jane's voice makes Zlinky doubt that Jane has any idea what's going on. She shakes her head and continues looking at this map.

Chapter 8: Priorities

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #zlinkgwal zalt #jane #scifi #adventure #comedy

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coruscantexpat · 5 years

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Bonds Unbroken - Chapter 7: Space Walk

After half an hour of searching, Meetra found what she was looking for in a plasteel container: a small recording device and a datapad belonging to the dead maintenance officer. She scrolled through the files, discovering the device was called a sonic imprint sensor, something the maintenance officer had put together with HK-50's help and then hid in the container to prevent other miners from using it to override the voiceprint controls on the droids. Meetra replaced the datapad and palmed the sensor, returning to HK-50. The droid was still stomping around the room, clearly annoyed that his expected escape route hadn't arrived yet. He ignored Meetra as she approached, though his muttering increased. When she called his name, he looked up, hesitating for a moment before answering. "Hopeful Reply: Have you decided not to embark on a foolish suicide mission?"

Meetra ignored his snark, surreptitiously thumbing the sonic imprint sensor's activation switch. "Actually, HK-50, I wanted to apologize."

"Incredulous Surprise: Apologize for what, Master?"

"I shouldn't have assumed you would be able to mimic the maintenance officer's voice well enough to fool the voiceprint," Meetra said, hoping the droid wouldn't be able to detect false sincerity. "It was rude. Can you forgive me?"

"Slightly Offended Answer: Master! I am more than capable of such simple forgery."

"Really? That would be really impressive to hear. I mean, if you're feeling up to it."

HK-50 straightened, radiating delight in every movement. "Proud Answer: Master, I believe my vocabulator is working adequately enough to accommodate your request. Recitation - " He switched back to the maintenance officer's voice, thankfully void of the man's dying screams, "Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5." He transitioned back to his usual voice. "Rhetorical Question: Was that sufficient, Master?"

"Color me impressed." Meetra switched the sensor off and subtly pocketed it. "Thank you, HK-50. I'm going to keep looking around for supplies. Come find me if a ride shows up?"

The droid nodded. "Delighted Acquiescence: Of course, Master." As he turned away, Meetra was certain she saw a spring in his step. Better to let him believe he'd won; he'd be less likely to follow her, at least right away. Meetra slipped out of the room and threaded her way through the fuel depot, the echoing of her footsteps the only accompaniment. The silence was even eerier after the conversation with HK-50, as though the droid's synthetic voice had been a barrier against the emptiness of the facility, and now that she had left him behind, the unsettling stillness crept back in. At the end of the long empty corridor, she ran into three doors. Two of them were sealed; one had the word "Airlock" stenciled above the door, while the other blocked access to the turbolift. The third led into a small workroom with tall shelves full of robotic odds and ends against one wall and a terminal against the other. Meetra crossed to the console and booted it up, selecting the maintenance logs from the command list.

A hologram of the deceased red-headed officer materialized above the console and launched into the implementation of the sonic imprint sensor among the mining droids. Meetra skipped to the next log, causing the hologram to crackle and then reconstitute, this time relating the arrival of the Ebon Hawk. There was mention of a protocol droid, presumably HK-50, and an astromech, a T3 model. She wondered if the chirpy droid who had helped her earlier was one and the same, and she felt a pang of regret for not asking HK-50 about him. On the other hand, the protocol droid was more likely to lie than give her a straight answer, so there was a good chance it wouldn't have mattered either way. His lack of contact after opening the mining tunnel access still worried her; she'd have to keep an eye out for the little guy. The hologram had started to loop while she was lost in thought, so she skipped ahead to the next one and her heart clenched. HK-50 had been telling at least some of the truth: he had indeed told the miners about her past, as both a Jedi and part of Revan's rebellion. The officer spoke about the schism between the miners who plotted to sell her to the Exchange and the others who opposed it, mentioning a familiar name: Coorta. The idea that he might be alive and waiting for her in the dormitories made her stomach churn, but she knew she couldn't leave him behind if their paths crossed; no one deserved to die here, trapped in the sterile corridors at the mercy, or lack thereof, of their own droids. The last log reported the increase of accidents among the mining droids, the officer's voice thick with urgency and an undercurrent of fear. Meetra sighed and backed out of the logs. If only she'd woken up earlier, even if just a day previous. She might have been able to save more than an old woman, a shady rogue, and a snarky droid.

She shook her head and brushed her hair back from her face, as much to clear the strands from her eyes as to push away the guilt, and pulled the sonic imprint sensor from her pocket, forwarding through the recording until she reached HK-50's impression of the officer. She selected the voiceprint command of the airlock, beginning playback when the terminal prompted her to speak the password. There was a heavy thunk out in the hallway as the door to the airlock cycled open. Meetra waited, listening intently, but the sound of clanking robot feet didn’t come. HK-50 was probably still congratulating himself for “convincing” her not to travel to the dormitories. She chuckled at his imagined reaction when he discovered that she’d tricked him as she entered the inner airlock.

Several lockers lined the far wall and Meetra rifled through them, finding a space suit in the one nearest the outer airlock door. She put everything but the helmet on, hesitating, and then tapped the commlink. “Atton?” More white noise came back at her, the signal still too weak to overcome the interference. She removed the device from her ear and attached it to a port in the helmet, connecting it to the suit’s built-in radio, then pulled the helmet carefully over her head and activated the seal. All sound, had there been any, was instantly dampened, save for the faint hiss of the suit constantly recycling and resupplying oxygen. Meetra cycled the outer airlock door, the inner one automatically sealing behind her, and stepped out into the vacuum. A metal walkway extended out before her, curving around beneath the communications blister and out toward the other side of the facility.

The suit made her movements slow and clunky, but Meetra was grateful for it. The last thing she needed was to accidentally catapult herself off into the infinite blackness. The magnets in the space suit’s boots jerked her feet back down to the walkway after every step, forcing her to move forward in a kind of shuffle rather than proper walking. Though it hindered her speed, it did give her a chance to admire the view, the star-dusted black of space enveloping the facility and reminding her just how small it, and she, was in comparison. As she approached the communications blister, the suit's radio crackled to life, a signal finally breaking through. "It's about time."

Atton's voice and the evident relief in it made Meetra smile. After the quiet of the mining tunnels and the fuel depot, as well as HK-50's shifty non-answers, it was good to hear a relatively friendly voice. "Were you worried?"

"Of course. There's a shortage of beautiful women in the galaxy; shame to lose one." Meetra rolled her eyes and continued to move along the catwalk. At least he felt safe enough to joke. "I lost your signal after you left the mining tunnels. Now you're coming in clear." He paused for a moment. "... except I'm picking you up on the exterior of the facility, on the asteroid's surface... that can't be right..."

She rounded the walkway's curve, coming to a stop in front of the blister's transparent wall. Through the glass, she could see Atton squinting at the terminal's screen, brows drawn together, as he pecked away at the keyboard. "Really? How strange."

"You're telling me."

Meetra resisted the urge to laugh. "Maybe you should look up."

He did, staring at her for a moment as if he couldn't comprehend what he was looking at, and then his eyes widened, mouth involuntarily falling open. Now, Meetra did laugh. The genuine surprise on his face was cute and endearing, the first true expression she'd seen unfiltered through his sarcastic facade. "What are you doing out there?" He sounded dazed, as if hit over the head.

“I ran into a rather... chatty protocol droid in the fuel depot,” Meetra said, leaving out HK-50’s more unnerving qualities. “He said some of the miners might’ve taken shelter in the dormitories. With the turbolift locked down, this is the only way.”

”You’re crazy.” Her answer appeared to have snapped Atton out of his shock; now he just sounded angry. “Even for a Jedi.”

Full chapter available on AO3 and FFN.

#kotor 2 #kotor fanfic #the jedi exile #female exile #atton rand #hk-50 #atton x exile #fanfic

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