Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya - Chapter Four Rating: R
Shadow Chaser

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Star Wars characters except those of Akiba Muune, Lieutenant Dysune Tayib, and Captain Falco Avin. All other characters belong to Lucasfilm and their respective authors. I am not making a profit out of this story, it is only written for fans to enjoy.

Summary: Tycho Celchu, son of Alderaan, is sent out to infiltrate Courscant with the highest rating of not coming back alive. This is the recount of his capture aboard Lusankya and his subsequent return to the New Republic under the heavy eye of being a possible spy.

Author’s Warning: This fic is rated R for heavy graphic violence, torture, and imprisonment.

The shuddering jolt of the starship jumping out of lightspeed was enough to wake Tycho up from his stun-induced nap. He snapped open his blue eyes, startled by how hard the ship had jumped from lightspeed into normal space. The reverberating metal where he laid on made him realize that he was pretty close to the engines. Close to the engines but in a cell.

The onslaught of memories slammed into his mind, waking him up fully as he realized that he was in a cell, on a ship, his pilot gear stripped of him, leaving him only in the flightsuit that he had been wearing when he tried to make his escape from Coruscant.


He had been there to collect information for the Rebel Alliance, to help them determine what they would face when they took over the citywide planet. Had all the information he had sent through various channels gone out safely? He didn’t know as another shudder jumped through the ship, making him hit his head on the wall next to the bunk he had been sleeping on.

That was also when he realized that he ached all over his body. Every single part, every single muscle or nerve twitched with fiery pain, and he peeled back a part of his flightsuit and saw that his arm was an angry purple-red ... The only part where he hadn’t felt pain was the back of his head, but that was a moot point as he had only bumped it moments ago, sending a fresh wave of pain lancing through his skull.

Slowly the whine of the Star Destroyer’s engines faded away and he realized that they had docked. Which meant that they would be coming for him soon. He glanced around to see if there was anything he could use to either kill himself or escape from his prison, but all he could see were just the metal bunk, not even a scrap of pillow and just the bars on his cell. Nothing else ... obviously they wanted him alive.

Resigning himself to sitting quietly, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander to what the other Rogues were doing. He hoped that they were faring well in their mission and that none of them died during that time, but with war, you could never be too sure.

Winter ... he hoped that she was all right, in whatever her mission was. He knew that she wouldn’t allow herself to be captured and even if with everything short circuited she would find a way to kill herself lest let her holographic memory be put to use by the Imperial forces. He had found out, not too long ago, that Winter had a memory that spanned her whole lifetime. She could never forget anything or anyone and he realized that it was very hard on her, especially with the destruction of Alderaan. But it was her holographic memory that made her into such an efficient Intelligence personnel.

Suddenly, Tycho’s ears pricked to the sound of booted feet, marching in unison, their step getting louder and louder. He allowed a grim smile to flit across his features before settling it back into a mask of impassivity, but did not open his eyes.

The marching got louder and louder until it stopped abruptly. There was the click of his cell door being opened and two pairs of shuffling feet stepped into his cell.

“Get up, Rebel scum,” the metallic ting of a stormtrooper’s voice said into the quiet and he felt the sharp jab of the stormtrooper’s rifle dig into his side.

He hesitated for a little, showing some defiance before slowly rising to his feet and glared at the unseeing eyes of the stormtrooper who had poked him with his rifle. His own battered reflection glared back at him through the reflective shine of the trooper’s black eyepieces and with a start, he realized how badly he had been beaten. Already, a swollen bruise on his right cheek was beginning to show an angry purple, something he didn’t even feel ...

“What are you starin’ at, scum? Get movin’,” the trooper shoved him slightly and he stumbled, but spread his hands out to catch himself from falling flat on his face. Just as suddenly, the other troopers raised their weapons, ready to shoot him. Geez ... trigger happy people, he raised his hands a little to show that he wasn’t going to do anything foolish, at least not yet, he gave them a cool stare. The officer that had come with them, but had stayed near the entrance to his cell stepped forward and bound his wrists together tightly, but not enough to cut off the circulation.

He glared at the officer, daring him to do something that would end his life. He wasn’t normally suicidal, but he knew that his capture could spell doom for the coming mission the Alliance would put together. The officer stared right back, a sneer creeping up on his imperialistic face.

“What you staring at?” the officer growled before a thoughtful look crossed his eyes briefly, “ah ... thinking of making me do something to end your life? Ha! The Director wouldn’t want that to happen to her newest pet ... ” He began to shuck off one of his black matte leather gloves and stared at it with a wistful sigh before striking Tycho’s cheek, the unbruised left one.

Tycho blinked slightly against the painful sting, but he didn’t let his face show any pain and instead kept glaring at the officer. He could feel a welt growing there now ... a suitable match to the bruised one on his right, he thought sarcastically.

“Pets must be taught obedience, and you will learn that Celchu,” the officer put his glove back on before gesturing to the stormtroopers arrayed around them to start moving. One nudged him, none to gently, and Tycho gave one more sideways glare before plodding forward.

They turned down a few corridors and he wondered where he was. Was he going to be interrogated? Tortured for fun then killed? Where was he anyways? As he kept walking he made a mental note of the bulkheads and their design. From his knowledge gathered at the Imperial Academy back when he was a naïve teenager, he knew that he was on an Imperial Star Destroyer ... and probably in the detention cells which was at least ten to fifteen floors from the hanger bay ... and they were heading on an upwards slant ... which meant that a shuttle was probably waiting for him, to take him to wherever they had come out of hyperspace from.

Going up a few more floors, Tycho realized with a start that the hanger bay was near the fighter bays ... and judging from the direction they were going ... they were going to pass by the fighter bays before reaching the shuttle ... A plan began to form in his mind ... if he could get to a TIE Interceptor or even a TIE Fighter, he would be able to escape ... forcing them to either shoot him down, or having himself blown up by its self-destruct system.

He closed his eyes briefly and listened to the booted feet of the stormtroopers. There was barely anyone in the halls, with the exception of a few technicians who gaped in awe at him or at the stormtroopers around him, and he mentally figured there was at least four behind him ... two on either side of him and three up front ... a nice box of a perimeter. The officer he knew, was lagging behind all ... it would be hard to deal with him, but Tycho didn’t care ...

Opening them once more, he noted that they were getting closer to the hanger bays ... he tensed ever so slightly and tried to flex his binders, but they were locked on tightly. With a mental shake of his head, he almost laughed at the incompetence of the officer ... binding his hands up front was probably the most foolish thing anyone could have done. It gave him an advantage, one he would most certainly and greatly maximize to escape.

He waited until they were just about to pass by the door that lead to the fighter bay ... Now! Tycho acted swiftly and slammed his full body weight onto the trooper to his right, knocking the two startled troopers down. He rolled to his feet, his hands fumbling with a blaster rifle that he had managed to pick up and pointed it at the startled troopers.

Not wasting a second, he fired a shot and one of the troopers who was in front of him, fell down, a smoking crater in the middle of his forehead. Tycho then turned and ducked as a blaster bolt nearly singed the top of his head. He ran, his blaster hanging awkwardly from his hands as he ducked to avoid shots.

“Don’t kill him!” he dimly heard the officer scream to his men and Tycho allowed a small smile ... they truly wanted him alive then. Well ... no way in whatever Sith they own ...

He glanced up to see the entrance to the fighter bay ... a few steps away ...

Pain suddenly exploded into a hazy field around his vision. He stumbled and fell as his legs gave way ... He dimly felt himself hit the ground as all of his senses were focused on the pain radiating with a fiery resonance ... but one clarity shone through. He had been shot ... in the back ... near his left hip ... and it hurt ...

He could see blurry figures ... booted feet crowd around him as he laid on his stomach, his hands folded beneath him, the imprint of the blaster he had been carrying a mere memory on his stomach. No! He had to escape! He tried to move, but gasped as another lancing pain slashed through his consciousness ...

Tycho closed his eyes, trying to will the pain away ... when he heard boot feet that echoed loudly to his ears approach him. They stopped and he blearily opened his eyes ... noting that the spit-shine polish on the boots ... A part of his mind told him that it was the officer who stood next to him ... And it was, as the officer knelt down and Tycho tried to focus his gaze on him, tried to glare at him, but he couldn’t really manage it ...

“You are a very bad pet ... Celchu ... now how am I going to explain this to the Director,” the officer’s voice sounded very sickly sweet.

“You don’t ... ” Tycho found that breathing was a bit hard and realized that through the haze of pain that someone was stepping on his back, pinning him to the ground. “Don’t ... have to ... explain ... anything ... bastard ... ”

“Now ... why such a harsh language? Especially from a pet? No, no ... the Director will not like her pets with such language,” the officer sneered, “but a trip through her ward and you’ll be fine ... ”

“What ... are you ... talking about?” Tycho tried to move, but the pain was still great ...

“My dear Captain Celchu ... welcome to Lusankya,” the officer smiled predatorily before his boot smashed into Tycho’s temple and all the Rogue knew was darkness.

* * *

Wedge Antilles once again found himself at the tap café aboard the New Hope ... but this time he wasn’t as exhausted or tired. Rogue Squadron’s mission with Luke was going to end in two days ... and then the squadron would be disbanded ... perhaps forever ... he didn’t know.

What he did know was that he was rolling around his glass of Corellian brandy ... trying to find some solace in the fact that his squadron was about to be decommissioned. Where would Starfighter Command, or much less, Fleet Headquarters put him? He knew that his skills were highly valuable to the Rebel Alliance.

He served the Alliance with the best skills he had. From his parents death up to him joining the Rebel Alliance he had questioned the value and motives of so many different creatures, species, and governments. The Rebel Alliance was something he knew that would be able to fight for his ideals ... and he didn’t want to let it go to waste.

He wondered where would they place him next ... maybe they would have him train the younger recruits ... or he could be assigned a wing of fighters like General Salm ... or maybe ...

Wedge thunked the glass of brandy down onto the table and rocked slightly back on his stool ... yes! It was a brilliant plan ... and it was something the Rebel Alliance needed, especially if Tycho’s mission was a success.

He tossed a few coins to pay the bartender and headed back to his quarters, a smile quirking on the edges of his lips. The first thing was he would have to send his proposal to Admiral Ackbar ... and the second thing ... was to see if any of his old pilots would want to join back up. Tycho, after coming back, would surely be glad to join ... maybe even Hobbie and Janson ...

He let a grin blossom on his face as he started to form the details to his plan. Rogue Squadron needn’t be disbanded…it only needed a few more new things to make it into one of the Alliance’s best symbols and something new for the Empire to fear.

* * *

Author’s Notes: I am humbly apologizing to all those who have waited so long and so patiently for my fic. *Grovels* But after reading a few fics and watching Episode II again, my muse Haldir had just kicked my Rogue Squadron idea into high gear. I don’t know when the next chapter will appear, but it will be soon. Thank you for all those who waited patient for me. I especially like to thank Cathy Rowsell and Kelly Grosskreutz for their wonderful encouragements and to all who reviewed.

To Chapter Three | To Chapter Five

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