Objective: First decision (Principate)
Tenixir [Prison Break]: Run-on
Team of Awesome:
First Post: Magik # 14037
Battlemaster Magik received communications from within the Severian Principate. As he took orders from Arcona, his dealings in the criminal world did not get overlooked. The Severian Principate was planning on escorting captured prisoners to their underground facility known only to those on the inside. Magik listened closely to his counterpart tell him the precise location of the facility and whom he would be contacting upon arrival. Missions come and go, but Magik enjoyed getting paid for what he did best. As he ended his conversation with the Principate, it was set and Magik prepared to assemble for the mission. As he told the others the plans for their near mission, they agreed on the plans and pay. The Principate paid well and Magik was by no means greedy as they planned to split their wages among each other equally.
Atyiru, Lucine and Rhylance were quickly informed of his plans and dealings with the Severian Principate. Not surprised by their demands Rhylance agreed and commended Magik for his persistence. The Principate was by no means delightful, but they did not disagree with the payment at stake. As Magik briefed them separately, they were to meet on Arcona Military grounds and prepare to launch. The destination was unknown and meant to be kept that way. The Principate did not welcome uninvited guests. The plans were now in motion and Magik was on his way to Arcona Military grounds to meet the three others where Rhylance’s ship awaited.
Rhylance stood aboard his Upsilon Command Shuttle awaiting the arrival of the rest of the team. The Chiss was happy to again work with Lucine — his friend, his lover, his Consul,. When the two were on the same side, truly amazing and terrible things happened. He wanted to test that once again.
Having never worked with Atyiru or Magik, he found the prospect interesting to say the least. The two were well known for their respective skills, and he knew they would be required to help the Principate. While the idea of taking these prisoners for his own means was appealing, he realized that the greater benefit of the Severian Principate being on Arcona’s side was undeniably superior. And, for now, what was best for Arcona was best for him.
“Magik, welcome aboard my vessel, the U-C Providence,” Rhylance announced as the first of the three entered his ship’s hold. The Sith sat down at a nearby table and examined his arsenal. He wanted to make sure he was prepared for the mission.
A few minutes later both Lucine and Atyiru arrived aboard the shuttle, ready for their departure. Lucine was familiar with the layout so she gave the Chiss a nod and went off to relax while they flew. Atyiru, however, was not.
“Atyiru, so good that we finally get the chance to meet. I am Rhylance, and I have heard great tales of your healing prowess. I would love to study those in a more clinical setting at some point, if you do not mind,” the Chiss spoke politely to Arcona’s old Consul who had returned from the dead. He wanted to see if she could trust him. “Now if you would excuse me. It is time to take off.”
Rhylance walked towards the ship cockpit. No biological life-form sat in the chair. Instead an androgynous voice rang out.
“Master, what is your command?”
“Take off, M.O.R.S.E. It is time to move on out.”
“If that is your wish, then consider it done, sir.” The engines of the Upsilon kicked on, and once full power was achieved it took off from the ground. “Launching sequences activated, coordinates locked.”
The ship exited the hangar bay and ascended into the atmosphere. After a few short moments the cold hold of space took over and the shuttle was reaching top speeds.
“M.O.R.S.E., activate full thrusters and engage the hyperdrive. Let us get there as quickly as possible.”
“Yes sir, thrusters at max. Entering hyperspace in three…two…one…”
In a flash of light, the U-C Providence vanished into lightspeed in the direction of the prison.
Lucine reclined upon one of the comfortable chairs that decorated the passenger cabin, watching the data that streamed across the interface of her datapad. At her request, the Dajorra Intelligence Agency was feeding her all of the intel regarding the situation at the Tenixir Supermax Prison in real time. Given how volatile the situation was, the smallest detail could mean the difference between success or failure.
She heard the rumble of the engines that signaled the jump to hyperspace. At the same time, the datastream abruptly stopped. There would be no more updates until they arrived at their destination.
It was time to get started, then. Rhylance was still in the cockpit, but would be joining them shortly. He already had a decent amount of the intel anyway. Green eyes fell first on Magik, who looked up from his weapons, to Atyiru. The Miraluka sat near a porthole, her head tilted as if she was gazing at the stars that streaked past. She occasionally opened and closed her hand, though it seemed like it was more of an unconscious action than anything else. Lucine studied her former master for a moment. The two of them had not had a proper conversation since Atyiru’s return, and it was something that desperately needed to happen. She would talk to Atyiru; there was simply too much that needed to be said to delay much longer. But now was not the time.
Instead, she cleared her throat, breaking the silence within the common area. “Well, now that we are underway, I believe it is time to go over what mission details we have,” she said as she set the datapad on a table in the center of the common area. She tapped the interface, and a hologram of the Tenixir Supermax Prison shimmered into existence. “This is the prison that was struck by the Collective this morning. It is projected that they staged the attack in order to free a few of their scientists that were imprisoned there.” She tapped the interface one more, and the dossiers of the scientists popped on on either side of the first hologram.
“The Severian Principate has asked the Dark Brotherhood for assistance, and in turn, the Dark Council has turned to us. Our alliance with the Severian Principate is still in its infancy. Anything we can do to further indebt them to us will be helpful in future negotiations.” Her eyes fell upon Atyiru once more. After a pause, she added, almost grudgingly, “It will also be good to help the people within the prison itself.”
Rhylance appeared in time to hear her last statement. A small smirk told her exactly what he thought of the sentiment as he took a chair near the hologram.
“Seems easy enough. We get in and put down the prisoners,” Magik said.
“No,” Atyiru spoke up. “No killing or maiming.”
Lucine pressed her lips together at the Miraluka’s words. “As little as possible,” she amended. “The lives of these prisoners have value, that much is undisputed. But our primary goal is to end this riot. If possible, we should also try to capture those responsible for the attack, and the scientists as well.” The redhead’s smile was sharp. “I wish to have words with them specifically.”
As the U-C Providence drew steadily closely to the Tenixir Supermax Prison, planning proceeded in earnest. Once all were clear on the plan, the members of the group broke away, to physically and mentally prepare for the upcoming battle.
When they were at last alone, Rhylance allowed himself a dry chuckle.
“What?” Lucine asked.
“Merely something you said earlier, my dear. Do you truly believe that all of those prisoners have value?”
The redhead shrugged. “Of course, darling. The Severian Principate were willing to pay to keep these prisoners alive, were they not? And besides, given what the Collective agents might know, they may prove to be very valuable indeed.”
There was screaming.
Shouts of derision and anger and hopelessness, jeers and venom. Yells of excitement, of panic, of rage. Shrieks both in wild jubilation and for order, and then the violence, such violence—
Atyiru exhaled, inhaled, breathed back in the reality of their team’s landing and disembarkment, withdrawing her senses from the near-past and distant-present. The violence was done here, for now. The screams had quieted.
The klaxons, however, had not, and their blaring continued to lance through her head.
“Could they not have disabled the alarm system?” Lucine hissed.
“Evidently not,” Rhylance replied, pinched, pointing to what seemed to be a control station up above with sealed doors and blood splatters.
The first wave of the rioting cleared out this section, it seemed, as their data had suggested, making it the best place to establish a beachhead as they landed on the gravity-dense rock. The newly-freed rioters had moved on. Now all that were left on this block were those that couldn’t or wouldn’t come out of their cells, or those who had been killed in the chaos. As their team carefully advanced, they found a handful of living prisoners wallowing in their own waste and blood, almost all somehow restrained, gagged, or otherwise incapacitated. Many of the corpses were in terrible condition: beaten, tortured, injured. Perhaps it was gang-on-gang violence, or revenge from prisoner to guard, or brutality from the captors. Perhaps some of these men and women had been experimented on. There was little telling when the Brotherhood was involved. Though they stopped to check the bodies — both prisoner and guard — they passed, the figures, droid or organic, were mostly dismantled or dead. A haze of fog hung heavy here, leaking from nearby fires and who knew what other damage.
Their team would press forward and restrict any prisoners they came across, per Principate request; and if they could, make contact with the faction of the inmates that was communicating intelligence to the Brotherhood. They would then comm in the location of various prisoners to the hold-teams behind them, who would advance to help as needed and establish various checkpoints. It was necessary on a station so massive and so full of potential enemies, and necessary to regaining control thereof. Meanwhile, Magik would await at the main entrance inside the habitable gravi-field space, ready to corral any escapees from the prison proper itself looking to steal ships for transport.
Atyiru trailed slightly behind her superiors, stopping to heal the still-living they met indiscriminately, her life to theirs, her breath to theirs, with hardly any effort, closing wounds in moments. She gently closed cell doors behind her like pulling curtains, trying not to wake the mended.
“Atyiru, darling,” the Consul called. “We must be quick. Let us move along. We can return with medical assistance once the facilities, and our interests, are secure. Until then, even those you heal are still in danger, no?”
The Miraluka grimaced, but Rhylance was already adding, the two of them like a well-synced machine, “Indeed, and there may be worse injured further in, so best to save your energies and triage accordingly.”
“Very well,” sighed the woman at the insistence, and left her last patient to their bed behind a containment field. They quickly found the exit to this wing of the prison and stepped through left-open security doors into the next hallway. It was empty, washed out in warning-light red, but the alarms were quieter here than in the cellblock.
“This way,” Lucine indicated, checking her datapad, and the lot of them advanced to the eastern wings— where both the Central Management Facility and the maximum security Cellblock Dorn were located. There they hoped to find any leaders of the riots and their Collective scientists, and contain the most notorious prisoners before they could be a threat. If not, they were doomed to search all through blocks Aurek, Besh, and Cresh.
But they had not gone too much farther down the passageways, passing offices and security stations and a mess hall, before the screaming began again. And this time it was very real, and very present.
The rioting began as the prisoners were on the loose. Screams scattered down the hallways as fights broke out throughout Tenixir. No one was safe with fires lit in empty garbage bails. Magik was separate from the others, but out of sight. He watched closely from nearby as windows were shattered with prisoners trying to pry themselves through the caged walls. He watched them closely for his own safety as he stood outside the entrance, waiting for the escapees. While the others were inside Magik could only see what was coming his way. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the rioting crept through the steel doors. Tenixir was well guarded, but only from the inside. As the rioting began the prisoners disarmed the guards in an effort to escape. As the guards were taken over by the rioting there were just not enough guards on the inside.
As he answered his comms, he found the others were intact and out of the rioting. Or at least at a safe distance as not to be harmed. As it was mentioned, the rioters were now heading in Magik’s direction. He waited on the outside from behind the steel doors as the screams were getting louder. He could see the prison break unfolding directly in front of him. One by one they broke down the steel door and tried to flee. As they glanced at Magik he unclipped his lightsaber from his waist. The beam lit up the fenced entryway as the crackling from the extended beam only drew them closer. Magik stepped in their direction, slicing through as their limbs now scattered the dirt. They were not expecting to see Magik guarding the exit. The prisoners tried getting past him as he only dug deeper into their bodies, slicing from limb to limb making sure they did not proceed.
Tenixir Supermax Prison
Within the solitary cell, the prisoner knelt in the confined space. The single cot intended for someone of average height did little for the Barabel within. The walls were coated in a fine sheen of perspiration from the nearly freezing temperature of his cell. Kashiro took a deep breath and concentrated on warming his body, the cold causing his muscles to ache. Every breath was more difficult than the last as his reptilian physiology struggled in its desire to shut down in the freezing temperatures.
Another deep breath and more concentration brought the Force into his being, suffusing his limbs and core with what warmth he could draw in. If not for his connection to the Force, he knew he would have frozen in his confinement.
The Tenixir security forces had not taken kindly to finding the remains of the last inmate to challenge the Barabel. An example had been made of the prisoner before they had been able to restrain him, but the attempt had left several guards injured as well. The Warden’s decision had been to ensure that the conditions of his internment in solitary would result in better behavior in the future. The cell modifications ensured lethargy even when the temperatures were brought to a more bearable level when being fed or allowed time to sleep. He was losing track of time and felt himself slipping forward as he tried to draw another breath, no longer able to hold himself upright.
The words in his mind sounded unfamiliar, as if from a distance, yet they enforced another deep breath, expanding his lungs and producing another small burst of warmth that suffused his body. As he released the breath, he felt everything shake around him. With the single bulb of light above him shimmering and coming to life, flooding the room with light before bursting as the cooling units shut off.
It is only pain. It will be over quickly, keep breathing.
The voice again, another breath and he felt warmth flood his body, his own efforts magnifying the effect as he forced the faltering flame held in his core out towards his limbs. He felt thousands of pins and needles all at once as feeling returned to his extremities. A hiss of displeasure and pain escaped his clenched fangs as he heard his cell door open.
Kashiro opened his eyes, the reptilian slits blinking as he adjusted to the light and looked to the entrance of his small cell. Outside stood three figures backlit by the flood lamps within the corridor, the smells, and sounds of the prison and the chaos outside flooding his senses as he returned to full consciousness along with another flare of pain as he moved to rise.
There was more fighting ahead.
With quick nods, they fell into a loose formation, Lucine striding in front and Atyiru at her side, Rhylance taking up the rear as he drew his blaster. While the Miraluka remained unarmed, the Consul had at least pulled her saber, though it remained unlit.
They rounded the next corner to what could only be described as a massacre in progress. A hulking creature, twisted and clawed, slammed a uniformed guard and another prisoner alike up against the duracrete, one large hand around each of their bodies. The prisoner he smashed into the stone multiple times, like breaking a toy on a rock, while the guard, armored at least, was safer from the blunt trauma.
He was not, however, safe from the talons that pierced his skull.
“That is a Dashade,” Atyiru breathed out. “Be careful, it can drain your energy. It’s essentially feeding on those men.”
“Well, that will not do, now will it?” Lucine asked, and gestured at her Proconsul. The Chiss smoothly stepped up and fired a salvo from his pistol, the streaks of plasma screaming across the short space to burn into the large Dashade’s body. It bellowed at them, turning to barrel their way. Rhylance kept firing, smoking holes appearing in its bulk, but it kept moving.
In a flash of fiery hair, Lucine took one elegant step forward, pivoted to her side, and activated her blade. A flick of her wrist, saber scintillating in a circular arc, and the Dashade’s reaching fist fell to the floor. It roared, but another two steps, then two more, had her flanking the prisoner, circling him, and with a swift lunge she took out a leg and then another arm and it toppled over.
Behind her, the still-living prisoners, evidently having decided engaging them would be a mistake, turned and ran.
“Hmm,” the Consul said, wrinkling her nose at the ichor near her feet as she deactivated her blade. Rhylance stepped up, head tilted, eyes intense.
“Curious…” he murmured. “I will recover this one for study.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Atyiru hissed, finally stepping up. “He has died, leave him be.”
“Exactly. It is deceased. Now its body may be used for science. Or did you practice on straw dummies at your farmhouse medical school?”
“Darlings, please,” Lucine interrupted. “To business. As I have said, we can attend to the wounded or dead later.”
The opposing medics hesitated only another tense moment before following their leader deeper into Tenixir’s prison and into Cellblock Dorn. They found, however, no Collective scientists, and no deadly prisoners still waiting; just open cells. Blood was splashed all over the walls and floors, splatters from what might have been knife wounds, and more pulverized bodies. The work of the Dashade? Or the other inmates as well?
“Disappointing,” Rhylance murmured, looking to Lucine. “Well then, on to the facilities? Surely we can find who we are looking for with access to the security cameras. I will slice us in.”
“No, wait,” Atyiru called, standing still. It was faint, but there was a light here. A life. Flickering and small, like a candle flame in a blizzard, but she could feel it, sense it. It needed her. “Someone is still in this block.”
“Unless it is a scientist, they do not matte— Atyiru!” Lucine called after her as the Adept took off running.
Hang on! the healer thought into the ether. Breathe! Keep breathing!
Red stained her white boots, her clothes. She skidded in it as she slid around a corner and ran to the end of a row of cells, then made another turn. There, past other opened doors, she felt it. The dying light. The Miraluka sprinted to a closed door with frost on its edges, slamming nearly full-speed into it.
Hold on, I’m here! Just breathe. It will be over soon.
Her hands burned with cold as she pulled on the handle to no avail. Distantly she was aware of the others behind her.
“Help me open this,” she said.
“Atyiru, one prisoner does not matter. Come along. We are close to the control center now and we need to be quick.” It was an order, and Lucine’s tone conveyed as much.
“One more matters to ME! Help me! Rhylance, get the panel—”
“No. Your Consul has ordered you otherwise, Arconae, and you should respect it.”
“DAMN YOU BOTH, NO!” snarled the normally cheerful woman, and with a dark surge of rage and want, lightning leapt from her fingertips and exploded into the door, frying both the panel and the lights above them. It crackled, showering sparks, ozone in the air…but the door cracked open.
Cold rushed out. Atyiru rushed in. Reached for the figure as it attempted to rise, nearly falling before she caught it in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she said, aloud now. “Breathe. I am here.”
“A Barabel?” Rhylance muttered from behind, while displeasure radiated from Lucine. The Consul’s mouth was a thin line. “He is barely standing. Leave it. It’s dying. If not it will only slow us.”
“This one…is far from dead.” The voice was firm in its conviction though so low Atyiru wasn’t sure any but she had heard it.
“He is not. He’s already healing himself too, I can tell, and I will help treat him as we go,” the Mitaluka argued, drawing on the Force to do just that, channeling life into him. Immediately the man grew warmer in her arms, restless with energy, and stood up straighter on his own as he looked over them all.
“You have your patient now, Atyiru, now come. We need to go,” was Lucine’s final command on the matter, the Human stalking away, Rhylance dutifully behind her. Dragging the prisoner’s arm over her shoulders, Atyiru drew them both out of the cell and followed, feeling less of his weight with every step.
The team hurried through the hallways, retracing their steps back from their little detour. Lucine and Rhylance moved quickly, but Atyiru lagged behind as she struggled under the Barabel’s weight. The space between the groups grew wider and wider, until Lucine abruptly stopped short. She whirled and fixed Atyiru with an icy look. “How goes his healing?”
“He’s healing, but these things take time,” Atyiru said.
“Time is a resource we do not have in abundance. You have started the process, but we must leave the Barabel behind if we wish to keep up with our timetable.”
“He’s my patient. I won’t leave him,” the Miraluka’s voice rang with determination.
Lucine’s eyes narrowed as she looked first from her former Master to the massive Barabel that leaned on her. Meanwhile, Rhylance had taken out his datapad and was studying it, completely ignoring the exchange between former student and master. “I believe that we may be able to make up some of our lost time by cutting through the service corridor, here,” he said, pointing to a spot on a map of the prison.
Before Atyiru or Lucine could respond, the Barabel spoke up, “Not that way.”
“What do you mean?” Atyiru asked gently.
“This one knows the corridor you speak of. Lots of blind corners. It was a good place to settle scores. I left a few bodies there myself,” the Barabel said. “The warden had it closed up not long before they threw this one in solitary. But there is another way, a shortcut.”
“What is it?” the Miraluka pressed.
The Barabel shook his head. “First you have to promise to take Kashiro with you when you go.”
“Is it not enough that Atyiru gave you your life?” Rhylance asked.
“What’s life without freedom? It’s only a matter of time before the Principate gets control here. Once they do, life’s gonna get real miserable for anyone still here. Solitary confinement indefinitely, and that’s if we’re lucky,”
Lucine’s eyes darted from Atyiru’s face to the Barabel, her lips pressed in a thin line. FInally, her gaze settled on her former Master. “Your pet criminal has made it clear that he is both a murderer and an extortionist. Let us hope he is not also a liar. You have a deal,” this last was said to the Barabel. “Do not resist this.”
She jerked her hand toward him, and he felt tendrils of invisible energy wrap around his limbs and lift him off of the Miraluka. “Direct us as we go,” she said.
They hurried on in this manner, with Lucine carrying him telekinetically, while Atyiru healed him and Rhylance watched for threats. The Barabel, whose name they soon learned to be Kashiro, proved to be as good as his word. By the time they arrived at the great double doors that separated Cellblock Dorn from the courtyard, they had almost made up for the time they had lost in going to retrieve their new companion. It was also at this time that Kashiro declared that he was able to walk, and Lucine set him down.
As Kashiro took a few cautious steps, Rhylance and Lucine surveyed the scene within the courtyard. Bright sunlight streamed down, clearly illuminating the open space. The courtyard was littered with crumpled forms of both prisoners and guards, and other crimson puddles marked where other injuries had been dealt. The doors of the Central Management Facility were sealed shut, and a group of prisoners were clustered outside of them. The rioters were shouting threats and other unpleasantries and beating on the door as they tried to gain entry.
“Is there another way in?” Atyiru asked.
“No,” Kashiro said.
“Then we will need to go through them,” Lucine murmured.
“Allow me,” Rhylance said with a wicked grin. “I have just the thing.” He reached inside his lab coat and withdrew a silver cylindrical canister.
“What’s that? A bomb?” Kashiro asked.
“You are not bombing them!” Atyiru hissed.
“Of course not,” the Chiss medic replied with a roll of his eyes that managed to convey itself into his voice. “This is a highly concentrated fear toxin. It will serve as a nonlethal means of removing the threat.”
“That will work,” Lucine said. “Kashiro, you seem like the burly type. Can you throw it hard enough to reach them?”
Without a word, the Barabel took the canister. He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the crowd and drew upon the Force. He hurled the canister as far as he could. It clattered to the ground about a foot behind the prisoner closest to them and skittered into the crowd.
They waited, holding their breaths as they watched to see if the gas would work. Rhylance was the first to notice wisps of white smoke coming up from amid the crowd. But when the screams started, everyone heard them at the same time.
The crowd fell apart before their eyes. Some of the prisoners took off in a run as if they were being chased. Others attacked those nearest to them, having mistaken their victims for whatever horrifying thing they were seeing. Still others huddled on the ground, whimpering and crying out in terror.
“I thought you said the gas was nonlethal,” Atyira growled through gritted teeth as she sensed the mind-numbing horrors that assaulted the minds of the rioters.
Rhylance merely shrugged. “The gas is nonlethal, but their reactions may not be.”
Kashiro shook his head and turned away from the carnage. “Who the kark are you people?”
Rhylance observed with a hint of glee brushing across his face. He made mental notes of the scene and would later record the data. Composing himself, he waited with everyone else for the gas to fully dissipate before running through the courtyard. The rioters were afraid, too afraid to notice the group, too transfixed on their own mental anguish to react properly.
The party approached the final door, the door that would take them into the main control room of the prison. They were tightly locked. Rhylance attempted to slice his way in, but whoever was on the other side was more advanced than he.
“Lucine, it looks like you’re up,” the Chiss said as his glasses beamed in the light.
The red-headed Consul approached the door and reached out with the Force, searching for how many sentient beings were in the control room. There were three of them. Calming herself, the Consul knocked on the metal door.
“Please open up the door. We need to access the control mainframes to stop this rioting,” her voice was soft. The sweetness of her tone traveled with the Force as dark tendrils slowly pushed into the room.
“Are you crazy? We’re not letting anyone in this room. I’m not dying today!” It was a female who responded to them, so Lucine guessed she was in charge.
“I was sent here to save any survivors. You need to let us in now.”
“I’ve heard nothing from anyone about a rescue team. Until I get a message from our leaders, no one enters the room!"
Lucine could finally feel the Force connect into their brains and decided to use that this time.
“Rasha, dear…you and your Ronto crew will be safe with us. We weren’t sent by the Principate itself. You must let us in so we can protect you. We will save you and get you off of this rock.” Lucine’s every word was coated in deceit, but her ability to get into the minds of others and force them to see it her way was terrifyingly strong. The door began to open and the Consul winked at Rhylance.
The Proconsul pulled out his blaster and set it for stun. As the door opened the Chiss aimed and fired, blue rings of plasmic energy flying. The three pirates were taken by surprise and fell one by one to the stunning weapon.
“Quickly, bind them up so we can leave them for the Principate,” Lucine shouted out.
Atyiru was not pleased with how this situation went down, but wanted to keep these three secure, safe, and alive. With men like Rhylance around, being alive wasn’t always an option, so the Miraluka got to work.
“Kashiro, you’re going to help me, and no killing!” she yelled to the Barabel she had saved. He owed her a debt, and hopefully that would be enough.
Rhylance walked over to the control hub and began typing away, looking for the easiest route back to his ship and the best way to detain the rest of the rioting prisoners. As he read through schematic after schematic he came across his best option. The ventilation system. He opened up an access point and searched his medical bag for a few vials of compressed anesthetic gas. The Chiss inserted the vials into the access point and directed the flow to the rest of the facility.
“What did you just do, Rhylance?” Lucine asked as she watched him work.
“I just secured our escape without the need for anymore violence and in a non-lethal way. So you are all welcome, though you may want me to inoculate you before we attempt to leave.”
On the screens, gas began flowing into the different sections of the prison. The rioting prisoners began to drop like flies. They would be out for several hours.
“We should be able to leave this place in a half hour.” Rhylance turned back to his bag and closed it with a grin on his face.
Kashiro moved between each of the woman’s patients, turning, lifting and placing each of the bodies as ordered. He listened to the medic’s mutterings and mild curses as she examined each, finding the injuries inflicted by the Proconsul but also finding many more forms of neglect and old wounds on each that she couldn’t help herself but correct.
The Barabel stayed quiet and followed the commands given while never turning his back to his other saviors. The Human and the Chiss stood together talking as they reviewed the monitors, watching as the prison population was disabled by the paralytic gas in the air. Kashiro let out a mild hiss as he watched the amused smile on the Chiss’ face, the two leaders sharing a joke between one another.
“You’re not wrong in being wary, but they will ensure your safety so long as you remain useful,” Atyiru’s words were low, barely above the murmuring of her diagnosi.
“This one will prove useful and repay the debt of freedom you have earned, but is no fool and will not trust those who play with others’ minds and bodies through dishonesty,” Kashiro responded without lowering his voice, drawing a look of curiosity and amusement from the Consul and Proconsul as they glanced his way.
“Enough time has passed, we can now depart. My recommendation would be to take that one.” Rhylance turned, pointing to the Togruta leader of the pirate gang as he spoke. “We could likely discover useful information in how all of this began, if not more about the Collective instigators.”
“The Principate would likely not care for our taking of their prisoners,” Lucine responded, contemplating the suggestion.
“We have agreed to take the Barabel, one additional prisoner should not be much of a concern considering what we have done for them?” the Doctor responded.
“Very well. You, pick that one up and bring her along.” Lucine motioned to the agent without looking at Kashiro.
Kashiro lifted the unconscious Rasha into an over the shoulder carry, eliciting an annoyed murmur from Atyiru. Rhylance stood by the exit and drew the inoculant from his medical pouch, taking a breathful from the inhaler before cleaning the device and passing it to Lucine and down the line.
The party walked through the prison complex, past every prisoner, viewing the signs of their panic as they attempted to take shelter or find ways to not succumb to the gas. The disturbing quiet throughout the facility was a stark contrast to what was once a raging battlefield not an hour prior.
As they entered the hangar and approached the Arconan shuttle, Rhylance stopped and looked down at an unconscious body. It appeared the warrior had tried dragging himself back towards their shuttle before falling victim to the Doctor’s inoculant.
“Magik!” Atyiru shouted and ran to their fallen companion. “You didn’t warn him to get aboard the shuttle, Rhylance!”
“Slipped my mind, Atyiru. He will be fine. Take him aboard and let us be gone from this place.”
The Miraluka lifted the unconscious man and ensured she collected his fallen lightsaber, dragging him aboard the shuttle as it fired to life and began takeoff procedures