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

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

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.

Author’s Notes: The concept of political houses on Alderaan for this chapter and subsequent ones is based off of a very good fic by Diana DeRiggs called “The Rise of the House of Celchu” and can be found on www.wookieehut.com. I also want to note an error on a previous Author’s Notes; Grania was the one who shot Admiral Isoto, not poison with a drink. That’s someone else ...I think ... (poisoned drink guy was someone else too ...)



Tycho could feel that he was drifting in and out of consciousness again. He could hear voices murmuring near him, but at times they were loud, then soft, then loud again. But some of the times, when he could hear, there were barely any voices at all. It was then that he could hear a loud rumbling sound ... something that sounded like a drill or a generator. Was the place he was in near a generator of sorts?

Tycho ... can you hear me?

The gentle voice of a woman startled him to wakefulness and he blinked opened his eyes. The voice that spoke in his head, its soothing words and hopeful tone was familiar to him ... had he heard it somewhere before? He faintly wondered if he was hallucinating the voice, but shook it off as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. As he rose, a wave of dizziness disoriented him badly and he swayed slightly before he had to close his eyes. Not even flying in an X-wing or A-wing was this bad ...

He wasn’t normally inclined to get vertigo, but it certainly felt like it. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and this time, the dizziness wasn’t bad anymore. He knew that he was injured, fairly severely, but he didn’t know to what extent. He scanned his dim surroundings with his eyes, searching for the person who spoke to him. Maybe it was a Jedi of sorts ... he didn’t really know ...

“Ah ... you’re awake,” a grizzled voice spoke to his right and he turned his head slightly, feeling a pounding pain start up in his temples and extend to the back of his head. “Here now,” the old man who was speaking to him smiled slightly and gently pushed him back to the ground, “you shouldn’t be getting up, you’re not well.”

Tycho vaguely remembered the man and apparently the old man noticed his confusion and gave him another small smile, “Jan, at your service. I take care of all the prisoners here ... ”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he could feel that his throat was parched and dry ... Jan seemed to know everything as he brought out a cup and placed it to his lips. The trickle of water that touched and his lips and drained through his teeth was an explosion of hungry desire to have more. He sucked more of the water at a rapid pace, not caring for its acrid and sour flavor and just swallowed. He didn’t care if the water was potential contaminated ... he just needed liquids in him.

All too soon, the water in the cup was drained and Tycho found himself wanting more, but the look Jan gave him told him that there was probably no more.

“Sorry son ... we can’t have you throwing up whatever nutrients you still have left in your body ... you’ll get sicker,” Jan apologized and placed the cup out of his sight but then turned back and placed a weathered, wrinkly, dusty hand on his forehead. “Good ... ” Jan murmured, “no temperature.”

“Thank ... ” Tycho was glad for the water as it eased the dry hurting feeling in his throat, “you ... ”

“Hmph ... no need to thank me, son,” Jan replied with a hint of bashfulness as he removed his hand, “so ... how do you feel?”

“Plunged into the deep maws of the Sithpit,” Tycho replied slowly, clearing his throat to get some more moisture in it, “achy ... hurting all over ... what happened?” He knew that he had to have been captured by either Imperials or bounty hunters, though he put more emphasis on the former than latter, after his mission on ... His memory fogged ... where was he before his capture? Oh ... yes ... that was it, Coruscant. He had been to Coruscant ... to ... gather data ... for the New Republic’s ... possibility of ... an assault on the citywide planet. As Tycho kept thinking, he found that his memories were coming back easily, but he realized that a part of it, from his capture to now ... he barely remembered anything at all. All he got were flashes of images ... feelings ... nothing more ...

“My guess ... you were tortured by the Imps,” Jan shrugged, “though I must say ... this is probably the worst case I’ve seen for a long time ... ”

“You ... been here long?” Tycho asked.

“Yep ... around ... six years, give or take a few months ... ” Jan replied and Tycho stared at him. Jan was a prisoner for six years?! And still managed to survive?! “Oh, wipe that look off of you, son ... it doesn’t suit you, and you don’t have to be so surprised. I have an excellent internal clock and stayed alive for this long because of my wits.”

“Sorry ... ” he whispered, forcing himself not to stare incredulously at Jan.

“Nah ... its okay, son. Did your base fall to those Imp forces?” Jan asked.

Tycho shook his head as much as he allowed himself to without making himself dizzy again, “No ... was gathering Intel for the New Republic ... ” He didn’t dare go into the specifics for the fear that Jan wasn’t who he was, a caring old man, and for the possibility that wherever he was, the room was bugged.

“Oh,” Jan shrugged and didn’t press further.

“Jan ... where is this?” he asked.

“You’re in what the Empire deems its greatest creation. A woman named Ysanne Isard, or Iceheart, as all knows her, runs it. Nasty place this is ... ” Jan shook his head, “you’re lucky to be alive. It’s hell on the Universe ... ”

“Does this place have a name?” he asked.

“Yeah ... Lu-“

Whatever Jan was about to say, was cut off as the door diagonally across from where Tycho laid, opened with a hiss and at least four stormtroopers walked in, blasters drawn and pointed at the other inmates of the massive cell. Their glaring white armor was enough to make him wince in pain at the bright shine it gave off.

Another two followed behind, but they weren’t armed with blasters and he dimly noted that they seemed to be making their way towards him. Beyond all of them an officer waited, his face obscured by his brim cap, pulled down to shield his eyes from whatever light was given off in this room.

“Hurry up,” the officer’s nasal voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Tycho couldn’t really place the face or if so, the person’s name, but he did note that the officer’s voice was clipped, precise, and had an accent that sounded Coreward. “It’s bad enough in here with these scum ... just get him and let’s go ... ”

The troopers made their way around the various inhabitants of the cell, sometimes kicking over a few or roughly nudging them away. Tycho was distantly aware that most of the other inhabitants had shied away from the troopers, all crawling towards the sides and corners of the room, but for some of those who were either asleep or too sick to move, they were pushed away by the troopers.

“Don’t submit to them ... don’t let them beat you ... ” Jan suddenly whispered urgently in his ear.

“Wha?” Tycho was still a bit foggy-minded.

“They’re coming for you ... to torture you again. I do not know if Dysune or I could heal you after this ... you’re already badly injured ... Don’t submit to them, kid, don’t give in ... ” Jan repeated before there was a scraping sound and he twisted his head to see the old man dart over a pile of junk parts and rocks, and hide behind a particularly large stalagmite.

“There he is ... get him,” one of the metallic-like voices of a stormtrooper made Tycho turn his head again and he saw the four blaster-toting troopers point their weapons at him while the two unarmed ones went ahead of them. Moments later, two pairs of strong arms clamped onto his upper arms, squeezing like vises and making Tycho cry out slightly against the pain.

He was hauled to his feet so suddenly that the dizziness that passed over him made him see dark and light spots in his vision. His stomach did a flip-flop and he nearly heaved whatever water and bodily fluids he had in him up, but managed to keep it down. His legs felt like jelly and he sagged into the weight of the arms holding him up, but that only made the vise-like grip tighten more, eliciting another cry of pain out of him.

“Move it Rebel scum,” one trooper sneered and he was jerked along. He tried to move his legs, but they didn’t seem to respond and as a result his feet bumped into several junk parts and stalagmites on the ground, but he felt the acute pain lashing against his legs.

He had to escape ... he didn’t want to be tortured again. Gathering whatever strength he had in, him, Tycho closed his eyes for a moment, trying to prepare himself. Now ... he had to do it now! Suddenly he twisted his body around, trying to wrench the vise-like grips of his captors. He felt his muscles contract and pull and it hurt ... but he didn’t break the grips of the stormtroopers.

“Hey ... this one’s struggling ... ” one of his captors’ voices spoke up and Tycho tried vainly to pull out of their grip while glaring as well as he could in his condition, at the white helmets ...

“Whatever,” another of his captors replied and Tycho only saw the butt of a blaster smash into his face, his vision exploding into a myriad of colors before darkness claimed him once more. He dropped limply into his two captors arms, fresh crimson blood running down a cut above his eyebrow before they dragged him out, leaving the other prisoners to watch with relief and a hint of curiosity at the unconscious prisoner.

“Jan ... ” Dysune crawled over to the old man who had been hiding behind a large stalagmite, “do you think he’ll survive this round?”

“That I do not know, Dysune,” Jan replied a bit sadly.

“Will he break?”

“No,” Jan’s firm reply made Dysune wonder about the vehemence in his voice, “he won’t break. I’ve seen fire in that boy’s eyes ... fire fueled by his devotion to the Alliance ... ”

“Like your devotion?” Dysune asked.

“Yes,” Jan replied, one of his fists raised and clenched together, “if anything ... Tycho Celchu is a loyal son of both Alderaan and of the Rebel Alliance ... He won’t break.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

* * *

Tycho could hear a distant humming noise ... and for once, it sounded soothing to his ears. He could also hear a distant but incessant beeping noise and a foggy part of his mind told him to continue his trek towards consciousness. He awoke slowly, opening his eyes ...

White fluorescent ceiling lights greeted his vision and he stared at it, confused. He looked around, turning his head slowly as not to dizzy himself, and blinked, surprised. When did he get into a medical bay? Especially the medical bay of what looked to be Home One or the medical frigate Redemption? He suspected that he was on Home One as it had the ethereal feel of a Mon Cal ship ... everything was almost bubble or spherical-like.

He remembered ... bits and pieces of something ... a flash of ...

Tycho suddenly was knocked forward as a gigantic wave of crackling blue electricity slammed into him from behind, knocking out all his systems.

“Wait, you want Rogue Squadron to do this mission?”

“I asked you two to be here because this mission which I am going to be assigning is highly dangerous and heavily classified ... ”


The memories came at such a rapid pace that Tycho nearly buried his face into his pillow he was resting on and let out a small groan of pain. Stop it ... stop it ... he mentally tried to block the memories and little by little, they subsided, until he thought of nothing and just stared around the medical bay.

He wondered if anyone could tell him what happened and how he got here ... He tried moving his fingers and found that he could, but his muscles were very weak and weren’t used to him clenching and unclenching them.

The door to his medical room opened and a two-onebee droid shuffled through, walking towards him. The droid stopped by his bedside and peered at the equipment he was hooked up to. Tycho realized that the incessant beeping noise was a pulse monitor and all of his vitals were being printed out in a machine at probably a half-hour to an hour interval.

“How are you feeling Captain?” the Onebee droid asked in a friendly manner, his robotic arm extended towards his face, a cup with a straw in it and Tycho sipped gratefully, sloshing the water around before swallowing.

“Better ... ” he replied slowly, “where am I?”

“On board Home One, Captain ... the Redemption was too far away for your grievous injuries ... ”

“Injuries?” Tycho blinked.

“Yes, sir ... you suffered injuries in your battle and had to be immediately transported to a ship. You were placed in a bacta tank for six hour intervals,” the Onebee replied and Tycho had a flash of watching someone outside a bacta tank, but quickly shrugged it off.

“Oh ... ” he replied, “how long was I out?”

“About a few days, sir,” the Onebee replied, “please do not make any attempt to get up, Captain. I have strict orders from the Commander and the Admiral not to allow you to get up.”

Wedge and Admiral Ackbar had ordered the Onebee not to allow him to move? He looked around, hoping to catch any sign that Wedge or his squadron-mates were here ... but there was no evidence of anything, not even cards or a datapad with a message on it saying to him that they had been here. He sighed softly in disappointment ... but then got an idea.

“Did they come here?” he asked hopeful.

“Yes sir, but they left after a while. I have yet to see them appear again and I cannot allow too many visitors that would disrupt your healing process,” the Onebee droid replied firmly.

“Oh ... ” Tycho looked a bit disappointed, but he was glad that Wedge, even Admiral Ackbar had stopped by. Maybe the droid wouldn’t knock him out and Wedge would come in ... Fat chance, Celchu ... doctors, especially droid-doctors always knock you out to ‘keep the healing process going’, as they’re so fond of saying, he reminded himself.

“I shall leave you now, Captain,” the Onebee droid replied a bit stiffly, “please do get some rest, sir.”

Making one last check at the monitors around him Tycho watched as the droid wheeled out, marking and checking notes on a datapad that he had in his hands. The door hissed close behind him, plunging the room back into its relative silence, save for the humming noise of the equipment and the monotonous beeping of the pulse monitor.

Tycho leaned back against his pillows, furrowing slightly as he got comfortable. He wondered how did the mission go, but he was sort of foggy on the exact details of the mission. Maybe his injuries did leave him with slight amnesia ... he had known that to happen, especially to Hobbie, who had a notorious streak of ending up in the bacta tank for about 50% of their missions.

As he settled in to sleep again, the door to his room opened once more and Tycho sat up in surprise, not caring if a wave of dizziness rolled over him. He shunted it away and stared at the person in the doorway.

“Winter?!”

* * *

Author’s Notes: MAWAHAHAHAHAH!!! *Cackles gleefully* So loving it ... Hee hee ... Having fun yet? Torture abound! Okay ... nuff said ... more writing!

To Chapter Six | To Chapter Eight

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