13Chapter 10 - Nothing But Criminals
"Still don't think they're here for me?" Jamie quips.
"There's no guarantee they're thinking of you," I shoot back testily. Shit. This isn't good.
"Yeah," Zander chips in. "Knowing your people, they probably want to blow us up."
There are days like this where I wish Snoke provided us with a Star Destroyer rather than an assault ship. We'd stand a better chance.
"Those ships are not equipped with the stuff to make ships go boom," Cassius says to Zander snidely.
"That's what Destroyers are for," Idris pipes in. "The Capital ships specialize in disable and capture." He turns to look thoughtfully out the window. "So they want us alive," he surmises.
"They want someone alive. For now," I keep my words short and clipped. This isn't pessimism, I just need to be open to all possibilities.
I momentarily reach out to Jamie's mind. I can't read his thoughts, but I feel his emotions. There's anticipation, but also nervousness and anxiety. "Are you going to behave?" I ask him. "Or will we need to lock you in Zander's quarters until it's over?"
"It makes no difference," he replies airily. "I'll just sit on the sidelines and when it's all over, it won't really have mattered where I was. It's not like I'm expected to do anything from either side, anyway. That's by your logic, right?"
I'm not sure I like the way he worded his answer, but it's true. The Taurans are still radio silent even after the transmissions we've continued sending about our special prisoner. The captain has been eager to get Jamie out of his hair by getting him off the ship, and he had been hoping to do that by using the Tauran as a bargaining chip for us to be left alone. It would have killed two birds with one stone for him.
Of course, we were hinging all of this on the notion that the Tauran fleet wouldn't leave their own kind behind in the hands of foreigners, especially when there's word he's still alive and well.
However, this is a person who was forcefully conscripted into the fleet over some extraordinarily minor mischief. Assumedly because the authorities could abuse such power. He's served his time and is actually overdue to be discharged for years. It's as if he has Stockholm syndrome with them.
I'd initially - and arrogantly - assumed the Taurans would be determined to hold onto Jamie, but I feel a twist in my gut as the sad thought crosses my mind: the Tauran authorities and the fleet don't care about him or his life. He really is expendable to them.
I feel Jadiel step closer so he wraps an arm around my shoulders. Then he turns and looks at Jamie. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he's in deep thought about something.
That's enough to clue me in on a couple of peculiar things. One, the twisting, rolling nausea in my gut and the aching in my chest are not my own bodily sensations. Two, Jadiel seems deeply affected by something, and he's looking straight at Jamie.
I glance over my shoulder at the Knights, who are shifting in discomfort. Cassius fares the worst as he folds his arms in front of him in attempt to disguise his symptoms of anxiety, and to distract from the sickening roll in his stomach. Zander is also looking at Jamie.
It takes no genius to figure out that Jamie is projecting his thoughts and feelings because of his distress. Distress that was born of a distorted thought due to insecurities that may, in the end, not be so distorted.
How miserable would one be to grow up in a world that claims to care, but continually uses and discards you over and over? And to make things worse, that person would keep coming back because of the thought that someone, anyone, would care was planted in their head. Deceiving them into believing the venomous oily lies. Right now, Jamie is finally coming to the realization - all on his own - that his people might not be here for him. He feels abandoned and betrayed - and rightfully so.
I'm more affiliated with the light side, so I cannot deny my compassion for him in context to this. I can very much sense the intensity of his pain.
I don't just hate politics; I also hate most organized military. What the Tauran fleet and authorities did with Jamie is no better than what the First Order does with its Stormtrooper program.
But it looks like we'll need those soldiers today. On cue with my thoughts, the ship shudders and the lights go out. Moments later the emergency lights come on, and I know a tractor beam is pulling us in.
I turn to the Knights. "We were lucky to have not obtained damage in our last encounter with a Capital ship, but two more pushes it. We need to find a way to disable or destroy those ships."
"Our ship is currently disabled except for life support and other necessary systems in accordance with such an emergency," Idris points out. "We won't be able to use our cannons against them."
"Scramble TIE fighters then?" Cassius suggests.
"TIE fighters have instruments that are designed differently than this ship," Idris replies. "There's no guarantee, but there's a chance the tractor beam could mess something up in those ships. Then we have more people to rescue."
"Well what do we do then?" Cassius grows more agitated by the second. "I refuse to stand by helplessly. Luke Skywalker pulled a Star Destroyer out of the sky. Surely six Knights are enough to do something. We're stronger together."
Edith provides her two cents. "Use the Force on the ships? Perhaps we can knock one of them into another hard enough to take two down for the count. Then we would only need to worry about the last one."
That's inspiring. I see Idris and Zander thinking about it too. Jamie looks disturbed. "That could kill a lot of people in those ships."
"You still care about them?" Cassius scoffs. "They discarded you and left you behind when you were captured."
"You don't know that!" Jamie snaps.
I feel the wisps of cloudy darkness creeping from the back of Jamie's head: denial. He's afraid of the very real possibility of Cassius being right, and hearing such harsh words out loud did nothing to help that. Still, is the denial a mental process that pushes him back into habitual loyalties to the fleet, or is it simply a part of his grieving process after coming to terms with realities? Two very different possibilities with even more diverse outcomes and I know that I'll need to be careful in handling Jamie.
If I give him too many freedoms when he's not loyal, it could backfire terribly. However, if he's warmed up to us more, it needs to be recognized and rewarded, or he'll grow to resent us again. It's not that it matters on a personal level - it doesn't - but Jamie is actually a good person who hasn't found a sense of belonging yet. I know he would make a valuable asset if he joined the Knights of Ren. But even if he didn't, I know his ability to live and prosper could serve in many ways to make the universe a better place. I can tell he's a giving person.
A Sith would want to destroy him. But, like the more ancient Jedi order, I'd rather motivate and inspire him to have a positive impact on others.
I don't mind working with him, but he needs to be willing to play ball too. As of now he seems disinterested in my help, so I'll leave him alone.
I turn to Lieutenant Dan, who still remains at my side. "Stay with the Tauran soldier," I command. I'm almost caught off guard when I hear the hard metallic edge that accompanies my voice - it's been a while since I last put on the helmet.
Lieutenant Dan salutes, "Yes, Ma'am."
The other five Knights and I step toward the front window facing the Tauran ships. I swallow hard as I take a deep breath and widen my stance. Here goes nothing. I purse my lips as I study the ships. "Far right one?" I ask for input.
I caught a few nods and Idris murmured an agreement. "I'd push it into the middle one," he decides. "We can manipulate the ship's momentum easiest that way."
The others mimic my movements in a synchronized fashion as we reach out to grasp the ship. Sizeable. Too durable to crush ourselves. We lift our left legs and slowly stretch them sideways to take a wider stance. I hardly notice Jamie protesting loudly behind us. Or Lieutenant Dan holding him back. Once our feet plant again, our arms start to slowly, slowly, move left. It's hard. It's slow. It feels like it's not budging, but I can sense that we're slowly building up the energy and potential to move it. A Force. My hand shakes ever so slightly now and I'm pouring sweat from the strain. It's tough, but it won't count as the most challenging maneuver pulled; having six of us keeps it just easy enough.
My eyes fall shut in concentration.
When I was around 12, I experienced the shock of a lifetime. A child discovering their Force-sensitivity often found it to be either a perplexing or astonishing experience. Sometimes both. Mine wasn't like that. It was much more heated and violent.
I came home from school and made my way to my room, as always. Once I settled in, I would visit Kira to talk to her about my day and what I learned. She wasn't very responsive in her condition. Servants tended to her that specialized in healthcare. Dad and I would see her the most. I had thought for a long time that she was safe and everything was normal.
I pushed open her bedroom door.
"What the hell!" I was outraged. "Get out!" I clenched my fists as I stormed over to the manservant bent over her. I aggressively outstretched my hand to snag him by his shirt to yank him off her bed and onto the floor. He moved back before I could grasp him - he was knocked off his feet and had impacted hard against the wall.
I didn't even touch him with my hand. It was as if he had been pulled back by a string.
I turned my shaking extremity and looked at my palm in shock. Suddenly I felt an odd urge to check out the area behind me. Perhaps for more threats.
Kira's eyes were open - a rarity - and she stared at me. I'd never felt so penetrated. It was odd, the absurd occurrence in which she's given something explicit attention. She ought to be incapable of it. That's what the doctors said. But she was looking at me. Her eyes, her face - all of it was completely serene and calm, despite the current circumstances. Her world was all me at that moment. My sisterly connection with her, weak as it was, felt like it transformed into something even more deep and intimate. What is this?
It should be impossible, but somehow I've wielded the Force - the manservant who groaned and struggled to get back up on the far side of the room was evidence of that. Somewhere in the back of the mind came a suspicion if my sister was perhaps also Force-sensitive, but I would have to figure that out later.
I clenched my fists again. They shook as I stepped closer and glared down at him. "You're sick! You shouldn't even have this job."
At that moment, I heard the rushing footsteps of my parents. "What's going on?" My father's voice was the first to address us. In a handful of seconds, his eyes swept around to evaluate the scene: my little sister with her shirt pulled up to expose her chest and pants missing; she was only wearing underwear. Then he saw me once again examining my palm before he landed on the manservant who staggered to his feet and clutched his side. Then, lastly, the human-shaped dent in the drywall.
Mother, bored, examined her nails from just beyond the doorway, but she also lifted an eyebrow at the drywall; passive curiosity.
I completely lost it with my mother at that point and lifted a shaking accusatory finger at the perpetrator. The adrenaline that rushed through me was high, and it fed my rage. "He molested your daughter," I spat. My blood boiled and I saw red. It was the first time I've had truly violent urges instead of simple thoughts. I wanted to kill that man and then I wanted to throttle my mother. She gave birth to us - how could she have possibly been so indifferent to an assault on her own child? The duty shouldn't fall on me to protect the family. My dad genuinely did his best, but he really did need mother to help. It was clear she didn't care about anything except credits and power. Nobody was worth her time unless they were somehow useful to her, otherwise they're cast aside like a toy that's not shiny anymore.
There was no man I hated more than the one that touched my sister - although my mother was a close second.
Dad evaluated and responded much differently than mother. His face was hardened, stone cold. His voice was dangerously even. Other servants had since crowded in the hallway after hearing the commotion. He turned and singled one out: "Call the authorities. Now." As he turned to do so, my dad pointed at another four. "Get him out of my sight, and wait for the enforcers at the door. Restrain him as necessary."
The man didn't put up much resistance. He grimaced as he moved - I must have caused injury, but I had no care in the world for him. I glared as he was escorted out of the room.
Dad crossed the room to Kira's bed to put her clothes back in order. He also looked astonished when she made brief eye contact with him. Kira moved her eyes in my direction again and looked at me for a few more seconds. Then her eyes fell shut. Her expression never changed; it remained void of emotion yet looked peaceful the entire time. It was almost as disturbing as the earlier occurrence with the manservant.
When mother decided she'd had enough of the drama, she left the room. Still driven by anger, I followed to confront her in her office. "I should report you for negligence!" I hissed. "You ought to be in a cell next to that man's."
"How was I supposed to know what he was up to?" She looked as bored as she sounded while she sorted through papers on her desk. She didn't even look at me. I wanted to hurt her so badly. "I'm too busy to keep track of everything in the house."
Sure, except when it came to how I was dressed and what I was doing. She didn't give a shit about Kira. "All you think about is your status!" I shouted. "And anything that would remotely affect your public appearance!" The vicious thought of blackmail crossed my mind. "I could ruin your reputation in an instant if I told anyone about this."
That immediately caught her attention and she spun around to glare at me. Even if she didn't get in a lot of trouble for this, she'd have to deal with plenty of setbacks for a while. She would look bad over this. "You have no idea how this galaxy works," she said lowly. "When you're older, you'll understand."
Maneuvering the Tauran ship feels easier as the momentum builds. Perhaps it's all in our heads. By the time our ship is halfway to our opponents, we successfully slam one Capital ship into another. The movements look so slow in our eyes from such a distance, but the damage the ships inflict on each other from the impact is unmistakable. Their hulls smash and crumble satisfyingly. As each second passes, it looks as if the ships won't stop moving into each other. We've done a number on them and it looks like they're down for the count.
We're still being pulled by a tractor beam, so it appears that the ship on the left is the culprit.
The Knights, including myself, are far too exhausted to use the Force again. We may need to take on this ship similarly to last time.
Although it seems as if the Taurans had learned a lesson from last time. We're not getting pulled into their hangar. They're maneuvering us to board through our airlock. Our ship is about to be invaded. I turn to Lieutenant Dan who's still holding onto Jamie. The Tauran's eyes are glued to the ships outside the bridge. "Keep him here." And I turn to march toward the elevator. "Captain," the man's head turns toward me. "Assemble all available troops to defend the ship. We're about to have company."
The other Knights follow me into the lift, and we descend towards the hangar. If we get to our TIE fighters, we can fire on the Capital ship to manually dislodge our ship and blow up their hangar holding the tractor beam. They don't have protective shields like we do.
There's a loud boom and the entire elevator shakes with the ship. I almost lose my balance and Jadiel steadies me. Then the lights die and the elevator plummets. Everyone moves to lay on their backs during the fall except Zander, who supposedly decides to gamble. He stretches out both gloved hands to summon the Force, and then he uses it to slow our descent until we reach the belly of the ship. Nowhere near the hangar. Looks like a dogfight isn't in the cards for us. Idris and Edith force open the doors and I turn to Cassius as we exit. "Are any fighters deployed?"
"All available units except us."
I pause. "List our TIEs as open options. The pilots on standby can get to them faster than us and put them to use," I reach for my saber. "Our fight is here."