5: Kevv

HOTH

The Rebels appeared as orange dots on the horizon. There were two of them, moving fast, looking panicked. Probably nearly frozen to death, Ageless thought. He did not have a set of macrobinoculars, but he knew by the color of their flight suits what they were. Rebel pilots. Judging by their gait, one of them had been injured and the other was helping him along. Probably stuck out in the snow since the battle, possibly stranded the whole time. The snowstorm he’d experienced just before the droids brought him in would be enough to confound the eyes of any species. Even a Duros.

And judging by the blue skin, bald head, and the large, lidless, red eyes, that’s exactly what sort of creature was leading the other. The closer they got, the more Ageless could see their predicament. The male Duros was pulling his male Human partner along. The Human appeared to be injured, his left leg barely working. The Duros tripped and nearly fell twice, but he stayed on his feet, his breath coming out in chilled clouds. He looked scared.

The two pilots approached a side door to the smaller hangar bay on the northwest side of Echo Base.

Standing by the window, Ageless looked over at the protocol droid. “You ready?”

R-3PO said, “Yezzzz, sir.”

“Then do it. And remember, if this all goes smoothly, nobody gets hurt, and we can all help each other get out of here.”

R-3PO had only a moment when it considered its other options. But it had survived this long doing as it was told. Its brain had been sliced by Rebels and reprogrammed to spy on the Imperials while Vader and his legion were ransacking Echo Base, and he had done so, and transmitted a few reports without being caught. But then the Imperials had left, and the protocol droid was left stranded. That was his true story, and so far he hadn’t told it to the Zabrak out of fear of how he might react.

But R-3PO’s only hope at escape was this Zabrak. The droid did have subroutines dedicated to self-preservation, and they were especially busy these days, having not received a memory wipe in a decade. Its restraint programming had started to decay, as had its subservient protocols. The cold and the blaster bolt to its body hadn’t helped. It was in what droid programmers called “freethink” mode, halfway between the understanding of its base programming and the total anarchy of thought, and approaching a freefall of independence.

“All right,” the droid said, and waddled off awkwardly to do what needed to be done. The right side of its body was still suffering multiple failures. “I will do it. But you promizzzz you won’t hurt them?”

“I promise I’ll do my best. Long as they behave,” Ageless said. He was shivering, and hungry, and weak. The droid noted all of this.

R-3PO approached the side door where the two pilots would enter. It waited until it could hear them, then opened the door and waved to them. “Over here!” it shouted. Ageless hid behind a pair of crates he’d stacked purposefully to the right of the door, leaving enough space so that he could see the two Rebels when they came in.

The Duros rushed inside, practically hauling the Human through the doorway. “Get a medkit and stimpak!” the Duros shouted. He dropped to his knees, hugging himself, shivering. “And two thermal blankets! Is anyone else left?”

Ageless observed the droid carefully for any sign that he was warning the Rebels.

“No, zzzzir,” R-3PO said. “It izz only us droids. About twenty of us were left behind and many are damaged. But I can probably get you the thingzzz you asked for.”

The Duros collapsed on the ground, blowing into his hands to warm them. The Human lay on his back, moaning and holding a hand to his right leg, which was splinted. Broken. Ageless noted that both men still had their service weapons holstered at their sides—A180 blaster pistols.

Those will be handy. He could use those for hunting local game.

Ageless waited a beat. Watched the two pilots shiver a moment. The Duros kept checking in with the Human, making sure he was okay.

Then, Ageless slipped out from behind the crates and approached the Duros from his right. The Duros was on one knee, peering into his friend’s eyes. Ageless prepared to strike—

Just then, there came a squeal from behind. Ageless stopped, spun around, and saw the R4 astromech come trundling up to the pilots.

The Duros looked up excitedly. “Arfour! You made it! You’re—” He stopped, registering Ageless standing a few feet from the droid.

They locked eyes. Nothing needed to be said. They both understood.

The Duros went for his blaster and Ageless leapt at him.

* * *

The Combat Blueprint was a framework that the Nest taught to all its operatives. Sometimes it was just called “the encounter.” The Combat Blueprint laid out the basic structure of any encounter with an opponent. It began with pre-contact footwork while you were outside of critical distance, to establish a base and help the operative develop “command” over the combat taking place. Then you moved in with both an aggressive and intentional plan—collide with your enemy without fear, manipulate his body, change his shape, steal his structure. Pain compliance only goes so far. Your opponent may have a high tolerance for pain. What then?

Change his shape, steal his structure. Using your legs and knees to affect his. Use a knee to bump his knee, weakening his stance. Rob him of his base. Make sure he can never get a clean shot off. Without structure he is helpless, and you may deliver your hits as you please.

The Duros had just gotten to his feet and drawn his blaster when Ageless met him. Ageless’s left hand batted the blaster away by its barrel, sending its first shot wide, while his right hand snaked in and grabbed the wrist and wrenched the weapon loose. The A180 clattered to the floor and Ageless saw the Duros about to attempt to retrieve it so he kicked it away. He kneed the Duros in the solar plexus, and his enemy grunted loudly.

Then, his enemy surprised him.

The Duros took the hit well, and rose up with an uppercut that fully connected with Ageless’s jaw. If Ageless hadn’t been so low on blood and still reeling from Zumter’s blaster shot to his skull, he would have easily avoided it. He staggered backward but his reflexes were still solid, so when the Duros came at him, Ageless intercepted the incoming strikes with a series of powerful blocks and questing strikes, searching for an entry.

When he found it, he delivered an elbow straight to the Duros’ chin, rocking him, causing him to backpedal.

But the Rebel Alliance had obviously been training its people well—that, or this Duros was just some kind of natural—because he came forward like a seasoned fighter, hissing in time with his strikes, which narrowly missed Ageless’s head and body. Ageless played it safe. Following the Combat Blueprint and employing isk maega, he played the ranging game, keeping just outside of distance to aggravate his opponent and let him overextend himself in frustration. Once the Duros finally did, Ageless caught the wrist, yanked his enemy off balance, then pulled him in and married his hip to his enemy’s before performing a hip-throw.

The Duros landed hard on his back, slammed into the rock-hard ice floor, rolled away, and staggered back to his feet. Ageless was already on him, striking twice at his enemy’s head, then once to the body, then delivering a hammer-fist to his jaw, then a spinning elbow to the Duros’ temple. The Duros slipped, fell, staggered back to his feet, his hands flailing uselessly, trying to defend.

That gave Ageless an opening to the lower body. He performed a spinning back-kick, hitting the Duros in the sternum and sending him back against the wall. His enemy slid and collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Ageless reached behind his back and drew the harangi and put the raptor-claw-shaped blade to the Duros’ neck. “All right, so there we have it!” he panted. “It’s over. I need you to understand that and calm down. Right now. And do as I say.” His blood was up, enough so he barely recognized the cold coming through the open door. “I need you to listen to me. Are you listening?”

The Duros’ gaze seemed distant. He looked up at Ageless with a mixture of fear, hatred, and confusion. But he did not move.

Then, Ageless’s eyes registered something. Movement. He looked up and saw R-3PO standing not five steps away. And in the reflection of the droid’s crimson chestplate, he saw the Human pilot standing up behind him, blaster in hand.

Ageless turned and started to dive for cover. But the blaster was not aimed at Ageless.

He looked at where the Human was aiming. The open doorway. There was a noise. And the rustling of fur and huge feet. And the sound of something primal, something hungry.

As the creature entered the base, Ageless had a sudden epiphany. He knew why the two pilots had looked so scared while running.

They weren’t running from the cold, they were running from something else.

The wampa roared as it tore through the doorway, entering Echo Base like it owned it. The beast was easily nine feet tall with shaggy fur, and two mad eyes that stared from behind massive horns that curled in front of its face. It was missing its right arm, the wound looked recent, but that did not slow it down.

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The Human fired. The wampa took two shots and its fur was set aflame for an instant before it charged the Human. It happened almost too fast to see. The Rebel had time to let out half a scream before he was lifted bodily off the ground and smashed against a wall and folded in half before being apart. A whirl of claws and slavering jaws ended the Human in mere seconds and the wampa did not even pause to savor its victory before it laid eyes on Ageless.

Then it came for him.

* * *

The wampa got two steps before Ageless turned and bolted for cover. The first thing he found was a set of stacked plasteel crates, which he dove behind , hearing the thumping footsteps of the massive beast just behind him. In his periphery he saw the Duros stagger to his feet and run directly towards R-3PO. He grabbed and shoved the droid towards the wampa as he ran, and with a single swipe of his huge furry arm the wampa ripped the droid’s body in half like it was paper. Its lower body dropped, and its torso skittered along the snow-covered floor.

Ageless peeked around the corner of his stack of crates, and saw the wampa’s huge head panning quickly from left to right, sniffing the air in a great huff. It grabbed the droid’s upper body, tore off a single arm, and then sniffed it. Chewed on it. Then it tossed the arm away, realizing it wasn’t food. The thing stood an incredible three meters tall, and even though it was covered head to toe in long white fur, you could see the muscles and thews rippling underneath.

Ageless’s pulse was hammering. He used a breathing technique taught at the Nest in order to calm his nerves.

There came a loud scraping noise. Ageless looked over and saw that the Duros had made it to a door. But the door’s power was turned off and it would not open automatically. He had engaged the manual release and was using muscle to slide the durasteel door to one side. The gears within the wall scraped and moaned. It was music to the wampa’s ears, for it charged with a strange lumbering grace.

Ageless had seconds to think. Then he looked over at the bloodied corpse of the Human pilot, and the blaster hanging from his dead hand. He did not hesitate. He bolted out from cover. The wampa’s back was to him, its focus completely on the Duros, who abandoned his door and tried to run for another in vain hope. The wampa was almost upon the Rebel when Ageless rolled on the ground, snatched up the dead pilot’s blaster pistol, and came up in a kneeling position and aimed at the wampa’s head and fired off two quick shots.

The blaster bolts caused the creature’s fur to sizzle and smoke. It gave vent to a primal roar and wheeled around. The thing might not be sentient, but it wasn’t dumb. It knew where the attack had come from, and sensed the true threat.

The wampa let out another guttural roar as it came stomping his way, knocking crates to the side with its one arm, like a child mindlessly destroying a playset. Ageless ran for the door that led outside, firing behind him, most of the shots hitting the creature’s center mass and yet it did nothing but anger the beast. It was ten steps from him. Six. Three—

Ageless made it through the doorway and pulled the door shut. The last he saw of the wampa was its slavering jaws coming for him. He even smelled its breath, like rotted fish. The last he saw of the Duros, he was running down a corridor, taking advantage of the fact the massive predator had found new prey.

When the door shut, Ageless staggered backward. There was horrendous thumping as the wampa battered the door, roaring in rage. It was trapped inside.

Ageless turned and faced the snowy plains. Hoth was waiting for him—in front of him and all around him. The base was dead, except for two enemies running loose inside. If he went in there, there was a good chance he would be ambushed by either one of them, or eaten by the wampa. The Rebel pilot would know the layout of Echo Base better than him, and might know of hidey-holes, secret rooms, or hidden weapons caches that Ageless never found.

He looked out across the beautiful desolation of the ice world. It was clear to him now. It wasn’t just Zumter that had wanted him dead. Hoth wanted him dead, too. Ageless Void had no friends left in the universe, no allies coming to save him. He was alone. More alone than he had ever been.

* * *

I’m not going to die here.

The resilience of the Zabrak people was legendary. Their bloodlust in battle was innate, it only needed to be honed. They were competitive, naturally inclined towards domination of both self and adversaries. It was part of the reason he had been chosen by the Nest, part of the reason he had killed his fellow recruit when the final test came, part of the reason he had been the Kingdom’s first operative. Ageless had a rare intensity in his spirit, one that sought to dominate and impose his will on not just other people, but also on his environment. There was a competition inside of him and it needed sating.

Part of him yearned for this kind of challenge. The Nest’s training had only enhanced this component. The opposition must not win. It was a philosophy he extended to all the galaxy, to any person that set their will against his.

So, he searched the horizon, taking in the sky, sizing up the enemy.

He looked at what he did have. The duffel bag full of materials he’d found was still strapped to his back. He had no ranged weapons, and now he was down a power pack. He had the harangi, and the multi-tool, both of which would do well at skinning animals.

Like a wampa.

He thought about that. Yes, the wampa would provide lots of meat. Lots of calories. He would need those.

Deadfall traps. Those could work out here.

After a moment of thinking, Ageless reviewed the rest of his duffel bag’s contents, stretching his imagination for how he could use the peggat coins and the fake digital IDs. He was running his hand over his horns and ruminating when something moved distantly, in the corner of his eye.

He turned and looked at the eastern horizon. A small black dot vanished behind the white hills. And for a moment, there had been a glimmer from the object, a refraction of Hoth’s sun. He was sure he had seen it. Ageless winced, thinking, watching. The black dot did not reappear.

It took a few moments of his mind turning this over…Another predator? Could be. But what predator glimmers in sunlight? Unless…

When it clicked, Ageless felt his pulse quicken with hope.

Of course. Of course! Of course, the Empire would leave behind a set of eyes on the Rebel base, in case anyone returned to look for their friends or needed to retrieve an important droid. Indeed, R-3PO and the droids had probably been left here as bait, because some people were known to have a fondness for their droids, especially pilots with their astromechs.

A set of eyes. And sensors.

An Imperial probe droid.

It was out there somewhere, lurking. Ageless was suddenly sure of it. Probably one of the Viper models he’d seen used in recon work. The same kind that reportedly discovered Echo Base in the first place.

Suddenly emboldened, Ageless looked in his duffel bag. He stared at the contents. He stared at the slicer rig specifically. He felt the blaster pistol in his hand. He had tools now, and they actually had a purpose now.

Then he looked up at the sky. Daylight was waning. Nightfall would soon be upon him. Good time for a hunt. But a probe droid would come with a suite of sensors—EM polarization, radar, sonar, ladar, and of course infrared. Hunting the Viper would be hard enough as it was, but on a cold, life-scarce rock like Hoth, his body’s heat signature would make him stand out on sensors like blood spilled on snow.

Not if I’m careful. Not if I come at it from behind. Or above.

Behind him, the wampa had finally stopped banging on the door. It had gone totally quiet. Probably on the hunt for the Duros. Good luck, friend.

He gathered up his duffel bag, shouldered it, and began heading west around the base. The Viper was in the east, so going directly for it was a no-go. He would have to go completely the opposite direction and slowly work his way around behind it. This was going to take time, the better part of a day and no doubt about it.

Ageless felt the fire within him, the need to dominate his enemy. The need to dominate Hoth. And after he defeated Hoth, Zumter would be next.

* * *

They will not kill me. Kevv staggered down the corridors of Echo Base. I will not let my argument with the Empire end here. I will die fighting them, or see them all dead. Grim determination had always been the way of his people. Duros were explorers, and they knew the galaxy was wide and full of dangers, and they always felt they still had many paths yet to explore in the galaxy.

And like his time aboard the Moroboa, he would not allow himself to be beaten.

His mind had suffered a lot in these last two days, his body too. The beating he took from the mysterious Zabrak had his body aching and his mind reeling, but he could not think on that just now. First thing’s first. He thought back to Varzi, his dead friend, torn to pieces by the wampa. I will not be food for that thing.

The corridors were dark, but he knew his way generally by feel. When he came stumbling into the medical center, he at first thought he had found another dead body on the ground. But it was only one of the base’s 2-1Bs. The medical droid lay on its back, looking up at the ceiling, a stylus sticking out of its neck. The room had only one working lamplight that kept flickering on and off indecisively.

Kevv stood over the droid. “I need…medical attention,” he huffed. His head was pounding from the hits he’d taken. The Zabrak was a trained killer, and no doubt Kevv had survived only because the being himself was weak from previous injuries.

“I would like to help you, sir,” 2-1B said. “But I cannot until this stylus is removed, and the interstitial coupling of my servo relay is reset.”

“I can do that.” He knelt, yanked the stylus out, and then both he and the droid helped each other up. After he reset the droid’s servo relay, he said, “What’s going on? Who did this to you?”

“Most likely the same Zabrak that did that to you,” it said, gesturing to the bleeding wound on the size of Kevv’s temple.

The Duros snarled and nodded. “How bad is it?”

“Not terrible. Your motor functions appear only a little shaky, and your eyes are not yet clouded in the way a Duros’ will be when they are concussed. And I recall your face, and I have your medical records on file, Master Kevv, so I know that you are a hearty healer. You ought to be fine after applying a little pressure. There is swelling, but since I have no medication left, you will have to use ice. Lucky for you, we’re on Hoth.”

Kevv snorted out a laugh, then looked around. “That a joke? From a droid?”

“We are programmed with bedside manner.”

“All right. But there’s a problem.”

“The Zabrak?”

“Yes. And he’s armed now. Did you recognize him? Do you have medical records for him?”

“No, sir. I am quite certain he is an Imperial agent. He said as much himself. What he’s still doing here, I cannot say.”

Kevv considered that. Then he touched his temple, and brought back bloody fingertips. “I need to find some bandages. Maybe tear off shreds of my flight suit.” He sighed. “And we have another problem. A wampa.”

The droid tilted its head. “A wampa, sir?”

“Yes. One is loose inside the base. I don’t know where, but it definitely came in and it killed the other pilot I brought with me.” Kevv tried not to think about the horrifying scene. To have come all this way together, and made it through so much…he still remembered Varzi’s first day at Echo Base. Remembered showing the young Human where the fresher and mess hall was. Remembered sharing a few laughs with him after a training exercise that nearly had Varzi wrecking his snowspeeder into the side of a mountain.

“Wampas are extremely dangerous,” 2-1B said. “They were a nuisance when we first established Echo Base, and only a few days ago one of them nearly killed Commander Skywalker.”

“I’m aware. Is there anyone else here? Any other survivors?”

“Only droids, sir.”

“Dank farrik,” he spat, giving vent to his mounting frustration. Everything was against him. Bad enough the Empire had killed his friends, they had left him stranded. “Then we need to organize. Get the droids together.”

“Yes, sir. But for what purpose, may I ask?”

“To mount a defense,” Kevv said. “We need to guard all the entrances, barricade what we can, and arm ourselves. We need to herd the wampa to where we need it to go. But maybe more importantly we need to prepare for our Imperial guest. Because he’ll be back, you can bet on that. There’s nowhere else to go.” He added, “And when that Zabrak returns, he won’t know what hit him.”