We're racing across the countryside, the wind running wild fingers through my hair. I'm wedged in the backseat of a speeder between Din and Cara, neither of which are dainty people. The scent of sweat and sulfur assaults my nose and their armor digs into my ribs, but the weightless feeling of speeding across the surface of an unknown planet makes up for it.
In the front of speeder, Karga sits next to Mythrol, who's driving. "The whole base is powered by a reactor," Greef says over his shoulder. His voice is barely audible over the thrum of the engine and the wind in my ears.
"We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there," Kara says confidently.
"Let's be fast." I can hear the apprehension in Din's voice. "And keep the speeder running."
We turn sharply, entering a canyon with high, black walls. Volcanic ash forms a haze in the air as snake our way down toward the base.
"There it is." Karga points to a building built into the side of the cliff. It's more of a fortress than anything, made of thick, gray steel. "You see it?"
The base is camouflaged well enough. No one in their right mind would think to search this area for a secret hideout. But as I stare at the formidable walls, fear grips my stomach.
"How close do you want me to drop you off?" Mythrol asks nervously.
"How about the front door?" It's formed as a question, but from Karga, I know it's a command.
"It's a little close for a civilian, don't you think?"
"I have two choices for you," Karga says, his voice filled with authority. "You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt."
"Or?" Squeaks Mythrol.
"Or I leave you out here in the lava flats to walk home with whatever's left in your humidity vest."
"Not much of a choice, is it?" Grumbles the blue alien, but he reluctantly edges the speeder closer to the base.
We approach the entrance to the fortress. I'm surprised by the simplicity of it; the door is little more than a slab of gray steel with a lock. I was expecting something grander, something bigger.
"All right," Mythrol says. "We can't go any further than this."
"Let's go," Karga commands.
Din leaps lightly out of the speeder. I follow him, my shoes crunching against the rough black soil. I grip my blaster as we tiptoe to the door.
The Mandalorian jabs at the control panel a few times. "Controls are useless," he declares. "They're melted."
"Well, it's probably not rated for lava," I say nervously, trying to lighten the mood.
"Imperial trash," scoffs Kara.
"Alright, I'm headed back," Mythrol says with a wave. "Hit me up on the comm, we could set up a rendezvous time."
"You park your gills right there until I say otherwise," Karga snarls.
"I'm starting to dehydrate, boss," the alien complains.
"Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?"
"Can you at least be quick about it?"
"You wanna be quick?" Greef raises one deadly eyebrow. "Grab the flange cutter and help us out."
"Okay, fine," Mythrol whines. "But I don't like leaving my speeder like this, just so you know." He clambers out of the speeder, his movements slow and trudging.
But I'm not focused on the lazy alien. My gaze is following Din's. He's staring upward, at the balcony of the fortress. A knot forms in my throat.
Electricity crackles as Mythrol works on the control panel. His moments are surprisingly quick and precise.
"Hold tight," the Mandalorian says, and without warning, he uses his jetpack to rocket into the sky.
"How long is this gonna take?" Dune complains. I can't help but agree. The heat is overwhelming, causing my clothes to cling to me in ways that I'd prefer they didn't.
"Look, lady, this is rated for light plumbing and such," Mythrol says. "You're lucky I even packed it all."
I flinch as I hear the sound of screaming. A moment later, the body of stormtrooper lands next us, dead. With a pleasant beep, the door to the hideout opens. Cara, Greef, and I dart inside.
"Are you coming in?" I ask Mythrol, who's still standing outside uselessly.
"I'll take my changes out here, but thank you."
"Well, when the lava tide comes in, give us a holler." Dune smirks. "We'll drop you a rope." Wordlessly, Mythrol follows us.
The elevator takes us to the upper floor where Din is waiting for us. "Empty base, huh?" He gestures the dead bodies surrounding him.
"The reactor should be set in the heat shaft." Karga says, ignoring my master's previous comment. "If we drain the cooling lines, this whole base will go up in a matter of minutes."
I let my gaze wander. Behind me is a ship, half-covered in a gray tarp. My eyes widen as I realize what it is. "Look. It's a mint Trexler Marauder." I run my fingertips over the smooth gray surface. Part of my mind can't help but calculate how much that would be worth back on Jakku.
"We could get a lot for that on the black market," Mythrol comments.
"And it's going to get vaporized like the rest of this base," the Mandalorian says flatly. "Now, let's go."
Mythrol releases a gusty sigh. "Such a waste." But, he reluctantly follows Din into the hangar.
The garage door opens easily for us. I duck behind a corner, bracing myself for blaster fire. But none comes. The hangar is empty except for neat rows of white speeder bikes. We tiptoe inside, our blasters raised and fingers resting on the triggers.
We weave through the corridors, silent as the angel of death. The hallways all look the same: gray, boring, and spotless. The Mandalorian is right-something is off about this place.
"Shuttle bay, this is command." We approach the command center, swift and deadly. Light streams in from the large windows, revealing a sole commander. "Shuttle bay, the security feed just went down." His voice is high and nervous. "Can you check the relay hub?" There's nothing but static from shuttle bay. "Shuttle bay? Shuttle bay, this is..."
The officer is cut off as Cara leaps forward and wraps her muscular arm around his neck. He chokes and thrashes in her arms, but he's no match for Dune. The commander drops lifelessly to the floor.
Din smashes a few buttons on the control panel. The security footage shuts down, leaving nothing but static screens.
Karga rifles through the officer's pockets. He pulls out a small silver cylinder. "This will come in handy."
"I found the heat shaft," the Mandalorian says. "Let's go."
We race through the facility again, guns ready. My eyes never stop darting around, searching for danger.
"The access corridor should be right past this junction." My master strides forward confidently.
"Wait," I hiss, just as he's about to round a corner.
"Must have blown a transformer over there," a muffled voice says. I peek around the corner, immediately spotting two stormtroopers.
"All right, we'll check it out," the second ones replies, oblivious to our presence.
We hold our breaths, waiting for them to pass. I can feel the questioning looks, the others wondering how I knew they were approaching. I don't know that myself.
We wait a few seconds after they passed to continue on. The Mandalorian leads the way, commanding us. "There, Mythrol, slice that door."
"Use the code cylinder," Karga says, handing over the silver tube I saw him take earlier.
The doors open effortlessly for us. I'm immediately hit by an overwhelming sulfuric smell. In the middle of the room is a pit that drop into a pool of lava.
"Whoa," I say, leaning against the railing to stare at the magma.
"Yeah, 'whoa' is right," Din says, pulling me back protectively.
"That's it." Greek Karga points at a counsel in the middle of the room. "Get on the reactor controls, drain the coolant lines. We'll watch the doors."
I follow Karga's gaze. He's staring directly at Mythrol. "Me?" The alien squawks.
"Yes, you!"
"I'm afraid of heights," Mythrol blubbers. "And heat. And lava."
"How about if I put you back in carbonite? Get over there!"
I watch as Mythrol balances on a precariously thin catwalk. "There's no guardrail on this," he whines. The keypad buzzes as he jams a few buttons. An alarm begins blaring. Below us, the lava begins to spurt and shoot up. "Alright, she's gonna blow!"
Mythrol jumps back to safety and we begin sprinting through the halls. "How long do we have?" I gasp, gun still half-raised.
"Ten minutes at most," Greef replies.
We pause before rounding a corner. A stream of stormtroopers run in the hallway adjacent to us. The Mandalorian grabs my arm and leads into another direction.
We enter an open lab with two scientists in gray uniforms packing things up. "Hurry up, purge the drives," one urges. "Destroy it!" His snarl is half cut off as my master shoots him in the chest. The second scientist raises his gun, but shoots the control panel instead of back at us. One more shot and he's dead.
"What the..." my voice trails off as I look at the walls. Inside are glass tubes with half-formed bodies floating around. A wave of wrongness washes over me. "I thought you said this was a forward operating base."
"I thought it was," Karga whispers, looking at one of the grotesque faces in front of us.
"No," Cara says, "this isn't a military operation. This is a lab. We need to get into the system and figure out what's going on."
"What about the reactor..." Mythrol says slowly.
"Do it!" Cara snarls, her eyes fixed on the tubes.
"I don't like this," I murmur.
"Me neither," Din says.
A few buttons click beneath Mythrol's swift fingers. "Replicated the results," a hologram says, lighting up on the desk. "Of the subsequent trials, which also resulted in catastrophic failure. There were promising effects for an entire fortnight, but then, sadly, the body rejected the blood. I highly doubt we'll find a donor with a higher M-count, though." We gravitate closer to the hologram, staring at the thin man with the large goggles. "I recommend that we suspend all experimentation. I fear that the volunteer will meet the same regrettable fate if we proceed with the transfusion. Unfortunately, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The Child is small, and I was only able to harvest a limited amount without killing him." My blood runs cold. This is what they wanted the Child for? "If these experiments are to continue as requested, we would again require access to the donor. I will not disappoint you again, Moff Gideon."
"This must be an old transmission," the Mandalorian says. "Moff Gideon is dead."
"No," Mythrol interjects in a wobbly voice. "This recording's three days old."
My heart stops beating. I grip my blaster with renewed strength.
"If Moff Gideon is alive then..." Din's voice trails off.
"Look over there!" The sound of footsteps jerks us out of our thoughts. The stormtroopers have found us. Fuck.