Star Wars: X-Wing:
Lusankya — Chapter Eleven

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.

The scream was inhuman, but Tycho barely heard it.† He barely even comprehended that it came from his own mouth, let alone it was his own vocal chords doing the screaming.† It was an eerie, almost animalistic, yet it contained the bare traces of humanity in them.† The only sign that assured the weak and those that might have been watching this that the man, strapped to a metallic slab held at an angle, was still human and had not been depraved or turned into an animal ... at least not yet.

“Now, we shall try this again, Captain Celchu,” an oily, but cold voice asked as soon as Tycho stopped screaming.

Tycho turned his head to his right side, trying to find some comfort in the blood slicked slab of metal he had been strapped into.† He had already tasted the blood in his mouth, and breathing in its coppery scent was an old habit right now as his cheek slipped slightly from the red crimson streaks that was already there.† However, he tried to find whatever solace he had that though it felt like dying a hundred times, he miraculously still had enough blood in his body to keep himself buoyed and alive — and even coherent enough to try to process his torturer’s words.

He faintly saw the blur of the man dressed in an imperial officer’s uniform pass by him, checking on the equipment that was strapped all over his stark naked body. † The only saving grace was that a wide strap covered his privates, but even that wasn’t enough to elicit shivers from the cold air that was blowing into the room.

He knew that it was to keep him awake, and as his body twitched and shivered from the cold and from the recent electric storm that ran over his nerves and muscles, he tried to keep warm and happy thoughts inside of his head.† But it wasn’t easy.

His mind kept slipping to the fact that he knew he was in Lusankya, a prisoner of Iceheart’s schemes. † He would not turn ... he would not turn.

A sudden involuntary cough worked its painful way out of his lungs and he bit back a cry of pain as he forced the cough out, along with some spittle of blood.† Heaving coughs suddenly racked his body following that and he gritted his teeth, trying not to let his body move with his cough. † It hurt to pull against the restraints that pinned him on the table.† He could feel his throat raw from all the blood and acid that he had coughed out and after the last spastic cough was gone, he turned his head to the side, letting it soak the blood on the side, his breaths coming in gasping wheezes.

“It looks like you can use some water,” his torturer suddenly appeared in his line of vision and Tycho had to squint through his blurred eyes to clearly see the man sneering in his face, a devilish smile on his lips.

Tycho worked his jaw around a few times before he croaked out in a rather cracked voice, “Go ... to ... hell ...”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” the man replied before suddenly slapping him hard, slamming his face to the side, but Tycho barely felt the pain.† “Are you sure you wouldn’t like any water?” his torturer asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, dangling the cup in his line of vision.

He just closed his eyes, trying to ignore the man.† There was a niggling part of him that told him that he knew this man from somewhere, but couldn’t exactly place it.

“Now, now, don’t close your eyes.† That’s really rude when someone is talking with you,” the man chided him before suddenly he winced and squinted as a blinding light was shone on his face.† He couldn’t crack open his eyes, but even if he didn’t the light drilled through his eyelids and made him want to open his eyes in pain.

After what seemed like an agonizing half an hour underneath the bright light it was suddenly shut off, forcing a gasp out of him as he blinked open his eyes.† He blinked them a few more times, feeling some of the blood that had crusted over his lids flake away.

He couldn’t see ...

“Can’t see that well can we, Tycho,” the sickeningly sweet voice returned and he tried to move his head as much as his injuries allowed him to, to follow the voice, but even then, he couldn’t really follow the voice.

He could barely feel a prick of something entering his skin, but then again, everything hurt so when a dizzy feeling crept over him, it felt unusual, but ... normal amongst the pain.

When the light shut off, he felt as if every single one of his nerve endings had come alive, and his pain receptors were screaming all over his body.† Everything hurt. † He couldn’t move a millimeter without having all of his neurons firing all over the place, forcing him to stop whatever he was trying to do.† Even breathing hurt ... and he was breathing in painful gasps.

Fighting the pain he forced his lips to move and his vocal chords to speak.† “ class=GramE>The hell ... do you ... want,” he swallowed laboriously.

There was no answer for a while and the dizziness started to make his stomach turn.† He was very used to vertigo having been a pilot and all ... but ... w-what ... ?

Colors started to flash before his eyes, but he couldn’t see anything beyond them.† He felt like he was starting to swim in murky waters, like everything was confused and swirling around him.

Suddenly a harsh silence settled into place.

Then, a voice.

“You’ve failed in the simulators, Celchu,” the nauseatingly sweet voice was gone and was replaced with a cold, hard, imperialistic voice.† “ class=GramE>the commander was disappointed in your actions. † Luckily, you didn’t suffer serious injuries.† Once you’ve recovered he wants you back in there to complete the mission against the rebels.”

“R-Rebels?” Tycho was puzzled and swallowed painfully again.

“I knew we shouldn’t have set those simulators so high,” the voice sounded irritated. † “Do you remember anything Celchu?”

He was silent for a moment, trying to get his thoughts in order.† Everything seemed so jumbled, but he faintly remembered someone talking about setting the simulators to respond as if the person had been shot. † But where was that ... when ... ? † A name popped up in his mind that sounded vaguely familiar ...

“Klivan?” he whispered past his cracked lips.

“Hmph,” the voice snorted, “that boy doesn’t even know the first thing about programming simulators, but yes, at least you remember that he did.”

No ... no ... he didn’t remember the person named Klivan who programmed the simulators ... it ... was ... someone else who did.† He knew it was someone else who did it, but a fuzzy image of a face — definitely alien, kept settling in place — but there was no name for that fuzzy image.† Other name started to float around his consciousness — until a sharp flash of pain whipped across his face.† He tried to see who it was, but the darkness still lingered.

“Pay attention Flight Officer Celchu,” the voice said in an irritated tone.

†Flight Officer ... ? † No ... that wasn’t right was it? † Or wait, he had to be a flight officer, otherwise Hobbie would have his skin before anything else. † No, not Hobbie, but Biggs. † But then again, he was always better in the simulators than Darklighter or Klivan combined.† He even nearly shot down his instructor ... what was his name?


Soontir Fel, that was it.

“If it wouldn’t get us kicked out of here, I’d pluck that flower and let you wear it in your hair.”

“Not a wise choice, Lieutenant.”


When did he become a Lieutenant?† He was a Flight Officer.

“Flight ... Officer,” Tycho struggled out of his cracked lips as his eyes rolled around, not seeing the room, but lost in his jumbled memories.† He was a Flight Officer in the Imperial Navy.† He was training on ... on ... Prefsbelt IV, yeah that was it.

He was training ...


How? † How did that get in?

Alderaan was his home. † Of course he wouldn’t be back there for a while, but Nyiestra was waiting for him.

Nyiestra ... she was ...

A flash of a white hair and sparkling green eyes flashed across his vision and Tycho attempted to shake his head, but everything hurt.

Why did he hurt?

No ... Nyiestra ...

Childhood, she would wait. † She promised.† She promised that she would wait until he graduated from the Academy ... then they would marry.

“Tycho, don’t hesitate ... live free,” Nyiestra said, and Tycho nodded before something about her words caught his attention.  Live free ... ?

“Live ... free?”

Nyiestra smiled, “Yes.  You’re supposed to one of the best fighter pilots out there, don’t let them convert you.”

Convert? † Convert what?


What was that?


“Tycho ... Alderaan was destroyed a few days ago because of the rebel forces that had taken the planet hostage.  Everyone on that planet was killed.  Grand Moff Tarkin had no choice ... he pleaded with the rebels to stop using the planet as a hostage ...”


Alderaan destroyed ... his ... birthday?† Yes.† It was his birthday, he was celebrating and he thought ...

That was when he turned Rebel.

Rebel ...


The Rebel Alliance.

Wedge Antilles ... he was ... he was his commanding officer! † In Rogue Squadron! † And Hobbie!† Hobbie was there too!† Good old Hobbie who took too many frequent bacta dunks in his opinion.† Tycho let loose a soft snort of laughter that made pain shoot all over his naked body, but he didn’t care anymore.† He remembered ...


Wes!† Plourr! † And it was Herian I’ngre, a Bith who had set those simulators so high ... † That was when they found out Plourr was actually a real princess. † And all the other Rogues ...



How could he have forgotten her?† Her beautiful face, her sharp green eyes, her hair, white as the glistening snow on Hoth. † How could he ...


He was at Lusankya, he was captured, he was a prisoner of war ... † Tycho snapped his eyes open, fighting to flinch against the pain or the fact that he was completely naked.† He turned towards the source of the voice that had talked to him and his eyes narrowed as he focused on the slightly blurred figure dressed in an immaculate imperial uniform. † He recognized the man ... a Captain.

Captain Falco Avin, the man who had captured him and delivered him to this horrid prison.


“You’ve failed, Captain,” Tycho barely got the words past his cracked and blood caked lips.† His throat was raw and he was speaking in a harsh whisper, “you haven’t won. † Tycho Celchu, Captain, Republic Space Force, serial number 68970024.”

He received a frigid look in return before Avin just smiled slowly and walked around to a panel full of knobs.† “Hmph. † Insubordination will not be tolerated, Celchu,” Avin sneered before twisting a knob on the panel.

Tycho’s screams filled the room once more as electricity raced across his already weakened body, agonizing him further. † His screams continued for a long time and to Avin, it sounded like music in his ears.

* * * * *

When one is in the throes of immense pain, one really can’t remember that much, but Tycho vaguely remembered a conversation as he was half-conscious somewhere in a dank room.† He could feel the cold hard floor and someone sponging some blood off of him. † He could feel someone dressing him in clothes, but he couldn’t really remember the conversation.

All he remembered was that he was in Lusankya and he was a prisoner.

He didn’t want to open his eyes for the fear of seeing her face again, or perhaps that Captain’s, or even maybe this mismatched eyes of the director ... Iceheart ...

“A-Am I,” he tried the words out of his mouth, and found that they were a lot easier to form words than, what was it hours, days, time didn’t matter to him anymore, before.† “Am I ... going to die here?” he asked no one in particular.

“No,” a gentle kind voice, he recognized it from somewhere, but ... he couldn’t place it, “you’re not going to die son. † You’re going to live and find a way out of here.”

It was probably an expression his face, but the voice bent closer to his ears.

“You’re not going to die, son.† That’s an order.”

“Yes sir ...” he breathed out, the voice rang of authority and he was quick to obey it, “thank you, sir ...”

Tycho passed out once more.

* * * * *

The next time he awoke was a hand roughly shaking him. † He blearily opened his eyes, and even that effort sent spasms of pain shooting all over his body and nerves. † Where — oh yeah, he was at Lusankya, a prisoner.

“Celchu, wake up,” a vaguely familiar rough voice whispered urgently in his ear before there was the loud harsh sound of someone shuffling away. † That was followed by the piercing stomping of booted feet and Tycho squinted to see from his blurry dimmed vision. † White mixed with some black filled his vision and a part of his fog-addled brain registered that they were stormtroopers.

His vision was suddenly filled with white and pain exploded throughout his body.† Hissing and crying out as the stormtroopers picked him up roughly, he tried to struggle against their grasp, not to escape, but to stop them from hurting him further, but that only served to tighten their grip on his forearms.† It sent a new wave of pain through him and he saw black spots dance in his vision.† He gasped as he was hauled to his feet and his legs wouldn’t cooperate with him.

A sharp sting in his right leg told him that he had a broken ankle at least, if not a completely broken leg.† Unfortunately, the stormtroopers took no notice of his discomfort and instead jammed him roughly to stand himself on the floor. † He sagged to the ground as his own weight was put upon his broken leg.† He would have collapsed if not for the two troopers that were still holding their vise-like grips on his forearms.

Through the roar and screams of pain that were rushing through his head, he barely heard another voice speak up, “Gah, he’s a mess.† Get him up and out of here.† Stupid Rebel scum.”

Tycho was dragged across the room, his legs bumping into jagged rocks or others who weren’t fast enough to get away.† All the while, each time his broken leg came in contact with something, he could barely keep the cry of pain from escaping his cracked lips.

He really couldn’t see where they were taking him, his whole vision that of the metal ground as it eased the pain, though not by much, to keep his head down.† But what he didn’t see, his ears, sensitive from all of his wounds hurting, picked up on sounds. † They were harsh in his ears and rattled his eardrums, but he could hear the creaking of metal, clamps being released and realized that they were somewhere near a hanger bay of sorts.

“Hey Captain,” one of the stormtroopers suddenly spoke up, making him wince from the sound.† “I think he knows where’s going ...”

“Oh does he, now?” the Captain replied and Tycho started slightly. † He recognized that voice. † Imperialistic ... bossy ... † “Poor little pet thinks he can escape right now, does he?”


The brief flash of memory came rushing back to him. † It was him!† It was that Captain!† Falco Avin was his name and he was —

Tycho’s train of thought was cut off as he was suddenly blindsided by a stormtrooper’s fist.† He fell painfully into the waiting grips of unconsciousness.

* * * * *

Captain Falco Avin stared at the unconscious Tycho Celchu, a look of disgust creeping on his scarily handsome face.† The man looked so pathetic right now.† He could just kill him with a few more punches. † Or with a knife. † Then that stupid Alderaanian wouldn’t be such a burden on Director Isard.

Why she was keeping a piece of filth like him alive was beyond his comprehension, but he would always obey her orders. † After all, she hadn’t been wrong so far in any of her predictions or calculations.† He knew that she didn’t wield the power of the Force like those stupid Jedi of the ancient past, but she was good at reading and predicting the way things were going to happen.

“Get him onto the shuttle,” he growled at the troopers who were just staring at the unconscious pile that was Celchu.

“Yes sir,” the stormtroopers replied in unison before marching off with their bloodied burden.

Falco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. † His orders were simple and clear. † Keep Celchu at the prison alive, but do not let him escape.† Escape wasn’t going to be Celchu’s first priority; it was going to be survival.

Welcome to Akirt’tar, Celchu.† I hope you die there, he thought as a malicious smile crept onto his handsome features.

* * * * *

Author’s Notes: Oh why, oh why does it take me so long to write this story? Oh well. Right now itís classified as a Summer Project so hopefully by August this WHOLE story will be completed. Oh yeah, decided to end the torture here because I was getting bored and wanted to ship him to Akirtítar where the real fun begins.

To Chapter Ten | To Chapter Twelve

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