Chapter Text
The plan was misdirection: subtle yet simple. One Jedi was a threat to this base, so two meant code red: all units engage. Once Denvik knew where Bode and Cal were, he was going to send everyone. And that, paradoxically, would be their opening for escape.
“BD sent a message to the Mantis, telling them to be ready for extraction,” Bode explained as they made their way through the dim maintenance passages. “Even if the ship’s not there, Denvik will pick it up.
“Won't that be too obvious?” Cal asked. He was moving better than before, but still obviously in discomfort. If Bode wasn't so keenly aware of the distance Cal had put between them, he would have offered a hand to help him along.
Bode shook his head. “I encrypted it with everything I know. It will look like a message that doesn't want to be found, but Denvik will find it.” He knew what Cal's next question would be. “I told the Mantis not to respond. More messages means more chance for detection. Sorry. I don't know if they're still on the base or not.”
Cal nodded, his mind elsewhere. Worrying about Greez and Merrin no doubt, like they couldn't handle themselves on a ship that had made far riskier getaways, if just one of Greez's many, many cantina tales was to be believed.
“Next up: cameras. BD and I messed with them all over the base, but particularly in the channels leading to the cargo bay. Then I closed blast doors, ordered droids out of charging stations, set off alarms in a trail of different false leads. At the moment, it's too difficult to guess which one is real. Denvik is poised to go for the Mantis, but he won't have committed yet. He's waiting for the final piece of the puzzle.”
“Which is?”
Bode smiled grimly. “A sighting. He won't believe anything except confirmed eyes on us.”
Cal sighed, and Bode knew why. Even before Saw Gerrera regularly used Cal as the vanguard of his terrorism, to distract Imperial eyes from his more delicate operations and agents, the Mantis crew had been doing the same thing. Stick a lightsaber and a recognisable face in front of a bunch of Imperials, and they'll be too conveniently preoccupied to watch the other insurgents creeping in and out of their back door. But Bode had no intention of using Cal as bait - not now, and not ever.
“I've set up a relay through the commlinks,” Bode explained. He and BD-1 had gained access to every system - big or small - in the station through Denvik's datapad, because it turned out Denvik liked to control everything. “I’ve already recorded several reports of a sighting, and I can make them seem like they came from any buckethead on this rock, with the trooper in question none the wiser. And when Denvik sends everyone to the Mantis, we'll sneak straight into the hangar unimpeded.”
“Perfect,” Cal said. “So we just need a commlink.”
And for a commlink, they'd need to steal one from a stormtrooper. The trick would be to take the trooper out before they could report the real attack. An actual sighting of Bode and Cal would bring their plan to an end before they had time to implement a new one. Stealth, speed and mercilessness: all things that Bode excelled at.
“You’re up for this?” Bode asked Cal.
“Are you, old man?” Cal countered. That twinkle was back in his eye, damn him.
Since Bode had ripped open the door of his own hurt, allowing himself to really feel the pain and anger he’d been keeping at bay for years, he found that all his other emotions were cast in perfect clarity too, like calm skies in the centre of a ravenous storm. He could trace the knife-sharp edges of the grief he thought he’d abandoned so long ago at Tayala’s graveside to focus on keeping Kata alive. When Kata squeezed his hand, he remembered the real reason why he was doing all this: not because he was running from the Inquisitors but because he was running towards the bright future that Kata deserved.
Then Cal looked at him like that and Bode could finally put into words that he - f*ck, he loved him. Had for a long time now. And that was terrifying to admit because the last person he'd loved had ended up on the Inquisitor's blade that was meant for him.
Bode took a long breath. This time would be different. It already was: Tayala had been soft and safe and gentle in all the ways that Bode wasn't anymore. Cal was fire and fury and had never figured out how to walk away from a fight - but Bode knew, he knew, just like he had with her.
And even if Cal didn't want him - if Bode was too broken, too twisted, too angry for Cal to bear to touch - even then, he was going to make sure that Cal survived. No matter what it took, because Bode Akuna loved Cal Kestis.
—
Cal Kestis loved hunting stormtroopers. It was one of his favourite pastimes. Under normal circ*mstances he could afford to enjoy it (although he wasn't sure he was technically supposed to, under the Jedi code), because he could reliably get himself out of any corner they backed him into. It was easy. Now he stretched his arms and legs out as they walked, trying to gauge how much his movement was restricted by his sore, abused muscles. Too much, by his best estimate, despite his breezy assurances to Bode.
“We won't be long,” Bode said to Kata before they left her in the maintenance tunnels again. Hopefully BD-1 and Mookie would be better company for her this time than an unconscious Cal. “One last thing, then we'll go straight for the ship. I promise.”
“See you soon, best friend,” Cal added, holding his hand up for Kata to smile and slap a clumsy high five onto.
A short walk in the dark, hands on the walls for guidance, brought Cal and Bode to a grated vent casting blades of light into the tunnel from the other side. It was all that separated them from the bright open hallways of the main base, where hundreds of pairs of eyes were looking to hunt them down. Cal shivered as he peered through, making sure the coast was clear.
“Where are we?” Cal asked, shuffling aside so Bode could take a look. It wasn't lost on him that Bode was deliberately trying not to touch him, and he couldn't decide if he should feel more grateful or guilty about it.
“Lower-levels. We're close to the hangar now.” Bode pointed through the grate. “That way. There's a small office that's rarely used. I can't imagine that anyone is doing their day job with the whole base on high alert, so as long as we time it to avoid the patrols, we should have a clear run. Five minutes in the open, tops. Plus BD already took out the cameras here.” He realised Cal was staring at him. “What?”
“I really f*cked up when I came here, didn't I?” Cal murmured. Even once he'd realised Nova Garon was an ISB base, he'd been so focused on finding Bode that he hadn't stopped to consider that this was one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy for him to come, apart from the fortress on Nur. “I guess I thought I'd always be able to fight my way through everyone if I needed to.”
“In fairness, that does usually work for you,” Bode pointed out.
Cal snorted. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”
“Let’s hope not,” Bode said. “They've upped patrols, but don't have the numbers to man them properly. I think there’ll be two, three max.”
They waited quietly until a patrol went past. Bode was right: just two stormtroopers together, covering too much ground to properly pay attention to two pairs of eyes peering at them through a grate. As soon as they were sure the patrol wouldn’t hear them, they climbed out of the vent and settled into the familiar rhythm of their well-worn partnership. Bode led the way, guiding them effortlessly through shiny blank-walled corridors that all looked the same to Cal. They saw no one, but that didn’t stop him from keeping one hand tight on his lightsaber as they walked, just in case. In the dark confines of the maintenance tunnels, it had been easy to feel safe: here in the light, Cal felt exposed all over again.
The office Bode took them to was tiny. It contained nothing but a bank of desks surrounding a central terminal and, crucially, a double-doored cabinet that would be more than big enough to hide a couple of stormtrooper bodies. They left the door to the office wide open, so they'd have a full view of any passing patrols.
“One trooper each,” Cal said, his smile coming out savage.
Bode checked his blaster. “On your signal. Quick and quiet. Don't give them a chance to call for help.”
Cal slid behind the terminal and out of view. They didn't have to wait long. The sound of stormtroopers’ footsteps approaching made Cal feel uncharacteristically nervous, but the first patrol that passed by didn't even glance their way, and disappeared around the corner while Cal was still gearing himself up for the attack. Exactly ten minutes later, the next patrol arrived, and this time Cal was ready. Hands firm in the Force, he pulled the stormtroopers as hard as he could into the room, staggering them both - one for him, and one for Bode. With the same backwards movement he drew his lightsaber.
Cal's blade cut a molten seam into the first stormtrooper's armour. Then the darkness whipped out like a lightning crack as Bode took aim at the second stormtrooper with his blaster. Cal only just managed to catch the bolt with a last-minute thrust of his lightsaber, shoulders screaming at him as he did so. The bolt rebounded off the blade and buried itself in a smoking hole in the wall behind Bode's head. Cal took in Bode’s look of sudden fury and swiftly slammed the hilt of his lightsaber into the second stormtrooper's face - once, twice, shattering the plastoid and sending the stormtrooper unconscious to the ground.
Bode jammed his blaster back into its holster. “What the hell, Kestis? Why did you block my shot?”
Looking at Bode was hard again, because the darkness surrounded him like storm clouds. Only this time, his anger was aimed at Cal. Cal took a couple of deep breaths, steadying himself. “This isn't you,” he said. “Stand down.”
Bode snorted, but at least had the presence of mind to go and close the door to the office, sealing them and their raised voices inside. “Why the hell should I?”
“You know why. A Jedi doesn't kill out of hatred. You can't let the-”
“I am not a Jedi!”
Cal flinched at that, couldn't help it. They hadn't spoken about this, or any of Bode's many secrets that had tumbled out into the open since Jedha, all the people he had been. Bode was an ISB agent. Bode was a Jedi. Bode had sold them out to the Empire for the compass, then risked everything to free Cal. There wasn't the time to pick it all apart because they were still on the run, hiding in vents and empty offices, trying not to let Kata know how dangerous this really was.
“We need to kill him,” Bode said. He moved towards the unconscious stormtrooper and Cal instinctively stepped in front of him. Last time they'd been this close Cal had thought about kissing him; this time his stomach twisted with nausea at the way the cold waves of the dark side licked at Bode's skin.
“No.”
“Oh, wake up, Cal!” Bode snapped. “This isn't about your precious Jedi morals. If he wakes up, or gets free, or someone discovers we’ve taken a commlink, we won't have a clean shot at the hangar anymore. Do you want Denvik to put you back in the chair?”
Cal touched his wrists. The blood had long since dried, but the skin was bruised, ripped and sore. It wasn't that the prospect of suffering more torture scared him, but the helplessness of being at Denvik's mercy did, and Bode using it to threaten him with wasn't fair. “I won't let you kill him.”
Bode scoffed and gestured to the other body, where the plastoid was still smoking sweetly. “Right, because it was perfectly acceptable for you to kill yours? You're so pure of heart even when you're slicing men in half? Look me in the f*cking eye and tell me you don't hate them.”
“I didn't kill him because I hate him,” Cal protested. How could Bode think that? Then again, how could Cal not think that? Bloodlust sang in his veins every time he heard the modulated crackle of stormtrooper screams through their vocoders. Every time he threw one off a cliff to fall, fall, fall to their death, or buried his lightsaber up to the hilt in their useless white armour. They represented everything Cal abhorred: blind loyalty to a murderous regime, a callous disregard for civilian life, the faceless march of imperialism tearing the galaxy apart.
“You'd kill a hundred stormtroopers as a light warm-up before breakfast,” Bode said. “You'd kill one for looking at you the wrong way.”
“Yeah, I would.” Cal found his own anger and it rose to the surface like a living thing. “But I haven't fallen to the f*cking dark side, have I?”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. That wasn't fair either. Bode's face hardened, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Fine,” he said, and it scared Cal so much more that his voice was quiet. “Fine. If you're so perfect, you kill him.”
Cal looked down at the unconscious stormtrooper. His helmet was in pieces around him, and Cal couldn't quite see his face for all the shards of plastoid. His stomach rebelled anyway. “I can't do that.”
“Why not?” Bode was goading him now. “Afraid you'll get a little taste of your own darkness?”
“It’s not like that,” Cal snapped. He wanted to put his hands over his ears to block Bode out, but how could he when the Force was screaming at him too?
“Afraid it’ll feel good? Afraid you'll enjoy it?”
“Bode! Stop.”
He hadn't meant to issue that command in the Force, but the power pulsed out of him anyway. The air shimmered, enveloping everything in the room and holding it still - the terminal, the stormtroopers, even Bode. Especially Bode. Cal sighed wearily, letting his frenetic thoughts bleed away into the sudden silence. “Sorry,” he whispered. Bode was fighting against it, but Cal couldn't release it even if he wanted to. He settled for wrapping his arms around Bode and pressing their foreheads together, like Bode had done the first time he'd kissed him.
The curdled thickness of Bode's darkness reared up, wrapped itself around Cal's throat and lungs. Cal kept his breathing steady and let the dashing winds of the storm tear into him where their bodies touched, cold and icy and sharp as a blade. “I'm sorry,” he repeated. The darkness dug and dug, searching for weakness. It drew out the searing pain of Bode's betrayal, Cal's desperate confusion about which master Bode served, his own fear of falling to the yawning black ocean of the dark side himself. But at the centre of everything was a big bright ball that the darkness couldn't touch: Cal trusted Bode. Betrayal or not, darkness or not, Cal would put his life in Bode's hands a hundred times over.
Time stabilised again. Bode slowly relaxed under him, curled his hands around Cal in return and squeezed hard. They stood nose to nose, breathing together as the darkness receded like the tide.
—
Bode was hollow, a shell of himself, and the only thing stopping him from shattering into icy pieces was the feel of Cal’s body warm against his. He buried his head in Cal’s shoulder, breathing him in, unable to let go. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Cal's voice was shaking, and it was Bode who’d done that: frightened Cal into lashing out. So much for love. “Are you?”
“I… don’t know.” The truth was Bode was tired, so tired. Trying to hold the darkness back was like building a stick fort in front of a tidal wave. It swept away every one of his attempts to control it, and if it could make him do that to Cal of all people, then couldn't Kata be next? The thought made him shudder. Cal noticed and pulled him a little closer.
This isn’t you, Cal had said, twice now, but Bode knew he was wrong. There was no part of the darkness that wasn’t just Bode’s own pain thrown into sharp relief. He wanted to scream that at Cal, shake his shoulders and make him see Bode for who he really was: a man soaked in the blood of all the people he’d killed to survive.
Cal shouldn’t trust him. He had no good reason to. But right now Bode needed Cal: bright and warm and solid and believing in him. If Bode told Cal who he really was, and lost that unwavering faith, then what did he have left?
“Bode?” Cal’s eyes searched Bode’s, shining and beautiful, the question full of tenderness. Bode wanted Cal to devour him whole, to tear him apart layer by bloody layer until nothing remained but that look, and whatever speck of Bode might be worthy of it.
“We've wasted enough time,” Bode said, and his voice came out hoarse because those weren't the words he really meant to say. I f*cking love you. Please forgive me. I don't want to ever make you feel like that again. “Let's grab a commlink and get back to Kata.”
But neither of them moved. Bode rubbed circles into the small of Cal's back with his thumbs, and he couldn't tell if the resulting shiver from Cal was pleasure or fear. He started to pull away, but Cal clung on.
“Can I ask you something?” Cal asked hesitantly.
Bode wanted to press his lips to Cal's temple and tell him that he never needed to ask permission for anything, that Bode's answer would always be yes. Instead he leaned back a little, out of the close embrace, and said, “It depends.”
“Did Denvik ever hurt Kata?”
Bode squeezed his eyes shut and pictured Kata, the look on her face every time Denvik sent him away again. Only Cal's grip on him kept the rushing waves of the darkness at bay. “No,” he rasped. “Not… not physically, anyway. I always gave him just enough before it came to that.”
“He deserves to die.” Cal's anger shone with a righteousness that Bode had never quite managed. A few moments ago he'd wanted Cal angry, but now it just left him empty.
So many people in the galaxy deserved to die. Bode included probably - and enough people had certainly tried to kill him either way. Denvik would get what was coming to him, but it was looking like it wouldn't be Bode or Cal who got to do it. “If we see Denvik again, it'll only be because something's gone horribly wrong.”
“So, you didn’t do it earlier?” Cal had been gearing himself up for this question. “When you were alone with him?”
Bode had to look away and swallow. “I tried,” he said, because he couldn't tell an outright lie to Cal when he was close enough to kiss. “I tried to kill him. But I wasn't fast enough.”
Half truths buried among half truths. For now, Cal nodded, seemingly satisfied with Bode's reply.
Reluctantly, they broke apart. Bode stood straight on legs that wanted to fold beneath him. There was still a job to do. When they were free of this place, Bode resolved, he would tell Cal what he could.
Cal gestured to the unconscious stormtrooper. “You were right. We should kill him. Cover our backs.”
Bode looked at Cal and wanted to be better. “No,” he said with a sigh. “We’ll do it your way. The, uh, Jedi way.”
And the smile that lit up Cal’s face at that was worth more than every credit in the galaxy.
They worked together silently to tie up the stormtrooper and shut him in the cabinet along with the other body. Bode secured the commlink while Cal kicked as many shards of plastoid as he could under the desks. It wasn't ideal, and the part of Bode's mind that was always calculating the odds told him it wasn't worth the risk. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have been. Now, for Cal, it was.
It was a short journey back to the maintenance tunnels. After they slipped back through the vent and Bode was happy they'd covered their tracks, Cal grabbed his hand.
“We can do this,” Cal said. “Straight to the finish line, right?”
He looked so earnest that Bode couldn’t help but tease him. “Need a minute to settle your nerves, Scrapper?”
“Something like that,” Cal admitted.
Bode squeezed his hand. Something bloomed between them, tender and fond, and this time it was Cal who made the first move, caressing Bode's jaw with one finger and drawing him forward. Bode closed his eyes and let Cal kiss him sweetly, sighing at the sparks that brushed along his lips.
“For the nerves.” Cal smiled. “And for luck.”
Bode laughed. He couldn't help it - Cal was just as immutable as ever. He lifted Cal's hand to his lips and said, “When we get out of here, you and I are going to have a proper conversation about this.”
“Only if you buy me dinner first,” Cal said with that sparkle in his eye.
They walked the rest of the way back holding hands, guiding each other through the darkness of the maintenance tunnels, then mutually dropped them again just before they came into Kata's view. That was another honest conversion Bode was going to have to have once they escaped, one every bit as terrifying. But if Kata loved Cal even half as much as Bode did, they'd be okay.
BD-1 jumped on Cal and Kata threw her arms around Bode. Bode squeezed her back and let himself enjoy the moment. “Did you behave?” Bode asked, tapping the tip of Kata's nose.
She scrunched it up. “I was quiet. BD taught me how to make shadow puppets.”
“That sounds fun,” Bode said, amused. Where had BD-1 picked up that trick? “We're going for the ship now. Are you ready?”
Kata nodded and hugged Mookie to her chest, the last piece of Tayala that either of them had. “When we get to the ship, can I sit with Cal?”
The Z-95 was so small she'd probably have to sit on Cal's lap anyway. Bode smiled and ruffled her hair. “Of course, sweetheart.”
BD-1 had plotted the course: all they had to do was follow the maze of maintenance passages down towards the hangar. There were increased patrols here, so Bode made them go slowly, with BD-1's light at the lowest possible setting, just enough to see the path in front of them.
Concentrate, Akuna, he told himself. Like this was just one of the thousands of other missions he'd completed over the years, in places far more dangerous than this. He'd strolled head high into the jaws of enemy territory, side by side with people he was actively selling out to the Empire, knowing that the tiniest slip up would guarantee his death. At different times, in different places, he'd been hunted by clones, bounty hunters and Inquisitors alike, halfway across the galaxy and beyond. He'd infiltrated Saw Gerrera's operation when no one else could, had won the trust of elusive Jedi terrorist Cal Kestis himself, who not even the Inquisitors had managed to touch. Compared to that, this should be a walk in the park.
But the nerves jangled in his belly the closer they got to the hangar. The difference was Cal and Kata, of course it was. Normally he could take risks, trust his instincts, improvise wildly when - not if - anything went wrong. With them here by his side, relying on him to get this right, there could be no margin for error, because he would not lose them here, not when they were so close.
BD-1 led them around the corner, bypassing the main hangar entranceway. From a small grate in the wall, Bode could peer into the hangar itself, smell the familiar fuel and hot ion discharge that permeated its walls and floor. His heart stuttered when he saw the Z-95, right where he'd left it, tucked away at the back. Rows of stormtroopers and KX security droids guarded it, with more surrounding the entire boundary of the hangar, but that would all change soon.
“Okay,” Bode whispered. “BD, time to plug in again.”
Everything was pre-prepared: the audio files of Bode reporting sightings of himself and Cal in a variety of his best Core World accents, the relay that connected them to the web of comms chatter throughout the base, the commlink that would anchor them into the system and provide a legitimate signature. Bode flicked through Denvik's datapad with practised fingers, finding patrol routes near the Mantis’ last confirmed location and the corresponding identifying trooper numbers that BD-1 would need to duplicate. He read them each out loud in a hushed voice, waiting for BD-1 to link himself in before starting the next one.
“Ready to go?” Bode asked Cal when they were done. He couldn't slow his heartbeat down. If Denvik didn’t take the bait, then they were out of options.
“Ready,” Cal confirmed.
“Ready,” Kata echoed, mimicking Cal's firm nod.
“You heard them, BD,” Bode said with a grim smile. “Let's tell Denvik where we are.”
BD-1 booped softly, and sent the message. Denvik would receive the verbal reports of a sighting. He'd confirm the location near the cargo bay, maybe even see if he could trace the Mantis'signature first. And then, the order would go out to every soldier and combat droid who was available: engage.
While BD-1 started work on his next task - quietly loosening the cover on the grate, so they'd be ready to drop through - Bode took Kata's hands. “Listen to me very carefully,” he said. “Once we're in the hangar, keep hold of my hand. When I say go, we're going to run as fast as we can to the ship. Don’t look around, and don’t stop, no matter what happens. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Papa,” Kata said. She was trying not to show it, but she was scared now. That was a good thing, Bode convinced himself. Fear would keep her focused, quiet, efficient. Fear would keep her alive. That was all that mattered in the end.
“Keep Mookie close,” Bode said, tucking her hair behind her ear. When they were on Tanalorr, Bode could hold Kata in his arms and tell her she was safe and finally mean it. “Just a little longer, and then we'll never come back here again.”
“Your dad and I will look after you,” Cal promised. He had his lightsaber hilt in his hand, and Kata looked at him like the stars shone from his face.
The next bit was a waiting game. Bode stayed by the grate, keeping an eye on the troopers in the hangar while Cal fidgeted and BD-1 nosed Kata's hand, keeping her grounded. Minutes ticked past with agonising slowness. Eventually Bode stiffened as he saw the commander by the Z-95 receive a communication through his commlink, the message of Bode and Cal's apparent discovery filtering around the hangar to the rest of the troopers. Go, Bode willed, and, like clockwork, the order was issued, the troopers fell into smart lines and they began to hurry towards the exit.
Bode locked eyes with Cal. He didn't say anything but Cal nodded, implicitly understanding his meaning. Be ready.
Line after line of troopers filtered out. In no time at all, the hangar was empty, at least as far as Bode could see. No doubt some remnant of control staff remained on duty, watching over the hangar from the tall glass windows of the control centres on either side. Bode and Cal wouldn't be able to stop them calling for help, but as long as they waited until the troopers were far enough away, they could get to the Z-95 well before that help arrived.
Bode waited as long as he could bear. “Let's move.”
Cal went first. He opened the grate that BD-1 had unscrewed and slipped into the hangar. Kata next: Bode lifted her down and into Cal's waiting arms before dropping next to them. So far, so silent.
The hangar was a wide open space, taller than it was wide. Little to no cover, except for the neat rows of ships standing against each wall: TIE fighters on the right, and TIE bombers on the left. A small overhang where they stood shielded Bode, Cal and Kata from the watchful eyes of the control centres; a few more steps and they'd be exposed on all sides.
“See those ships?” Bode whispered to Kata, pointing to the TIE bombers, sturdier than the fighters and twice as broad. “If anything happens, I want you to run and hide behind them. Don't worry about me or Cal.”
Kata nodded, but she gripped Bode's hand like she'd die if she let go.
“Cal?” Bode asked.
Cal ignited his lightsaber, his face calm and focused. “You first. I'll cover you.”
“Copy that.” Now was no time for sentimentality. Cal was a Jedi and could handle himself; Kata had to be Bode's focus. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “Go.”
They ran. Bode made a beeline for the Z-95, abandoning stealth for speed. Kata's hand was locked in his, and he pulled her along, willing her to go faster. He didn't look up to check, but he could imagine the frenzy in the control centres above them at the sudden appearance of three fugitives and a lightsaber in the empty hangar, and the urgent, panicked messages that were being fired off to Denvik. The Z-95 got closer and closer. Cal didn't even need his lightsaber because there was no one left to shoot at them.
Abruptly, Kata stopped dead. Her hand pulled out of Bode's, his momentum carrying him forward before he realised what had happened.
“Run and hide,” she whispered, her face white with fear.
“Cal, go start the engines,” Bode ordered, and Cal took a split second to look at Kata, nodded and kept running. “Sweetheart, let's go.” Bode grabbed Kata's hand again and tried to pull her along but she dug her heels in and refused to move. Without a thought, Bode bent down and swept Kata into his arms. She fought him, little fists beating against his grip, but he held her tight against his chest and turned back to the ship.
The Z-95 exploded.
Bode threw himself to the ground, body shielding Kata. The fireball thundered into the air, the shockwave hitting them a split second later. Kata screamed as two more explosions hit both banks of TIEs, and Bode's instinct was never to use the Force because that's how you get discovered, but this time he didn't have a choice. He shoved away burning shrapnel that would have crushed them, feeling the darkness rush out to meet him as he did so. You've failed, it told him, roaring through his head like he was underwater. You've failed them both.
Bode raised his head. Everything was on fire. Smoke billowed up into the rafters and Nova Garon's TIE fleet had been reduced to burnt out twists of blackened metal. They had to get out of here before the troopers returned, but Kata was crying beneath him and Bode couldn't see Cal.
He couldn't see Cal.
“sh*t,” he breathed. “sh*t.”
Instinct kicked in: hide, regroup, reassess. Coughing against the acrid stench of burning ion engines, Bode staggered to his feet, pulling Kata up with him. A TIE fighter’s wing had broken off and was half-leaning against the wall - it would do as cover, because it was one of the few things in sight that wasn't actively on fire. Bode pushed Kata down beneath it, running a hand over her soot-streaked face. “Stay here,” he said, but he recognised the shellshock in Kata's face, the stiffness in her limbs: she couldn't move even if she wanted to. “I'm going to find Cal.”
Walking back out into the flames was worse the second time. It was difficult to see through all the smoke, and not only had the explosions destroyed the ships, but they'd strewn pieces of them everywhere. Cal could be blown to atoms, or thrown off the edge into space, or trapped and dying slowly under the shattered body of a TIE, or…
BD-1 was the only reason Bode found him: the little droid ran screeching up to Bode and led him back to Cal's body, lying among the scattered wreckage of the Z-95. “Oh please, please, please… ” Bode didn't know who he was begging, but his shaking hands found Cal's pulse point and confirmed he was alive. Bode blinked away tears as he tried to assess Cal's injuries. Cal had clearly been thrown back hard by the initial explosion: he bled freely from a nasty head wound and one leg was bent at an angle that made Bode shudder just looking at it.
Hide, regroup, reassess. Bode gritted his teeth. With Cal unconscious, and unable to walk even if he did wake up, there was no way to save him from the full force of Denvik's army that would arrive back at the hangar any moment now. Logically, Bode's best bet would be to leave him here, take Kata and plunge back into the maintenance tunnels as quickly as he could. Hide until he had a new plan. Could he do that, knowing that Cal was lost anyway?
Bode hauled Cal up with two hands under his armpits and started to drag him back to the TIE fighter wing. Of course he couldn’t, not anymore. Kata's whole life, he'd done whatever it took to keep her safe, had betrayed everyone he'd ever claimed to care about - even Tayala, because who's to say he couldn't have fought the Inquisitor that came for him on Birren and won? Instead he’d chosen to run, to leave her to the fate that should have been his.
But not again. Not this time, for so many reasons. Because his only other realistic option was the Mantis, and neither Merrin nor Greez would let him back on board if he turned up without Cal. Because going back into hiding would put Kata at more risk of harm as Denvik tore the place apart looking for them. Because that was how Denvik f*cking won: he had backup plans for his backup plans, and wasn't afraid to do something absolutely insane if it meant he came out on top, like rigging his own TIE fleet to blow on the off chance that Bode and Cal chose to escape that way.
It boiled down to the fact that the Bode who had left Cal unconscious on Jedha wasn’t him anymore.
Kata gasped as Bode dragged Cal over to her, staggering on his final few steps and dropping Cal down harder than he'd meant to. Cal was in bad shape, but head injury or not, it would have been riskier to stay out in the open. Bode just had to pray that when Cal woke up he wouldn't have any permanent damage.
“Papa,” Kata managed, tears spilling over her cheeks, asking for comfort that Bode didn't know how to give. BD-1 looked over at her and bwooped sadly, but he didn't leave Cal's side.
Shots hit the TIE fighter wing, and Bode pulled Kata away from the edge, making sure she was fully behind cover. The first wave of troopers and combat droids had returned to the hangar, and soon the rest would follow. Bode could take out his blaster and return fire, but what would be the point? He might kill a handful, or even more, but it wouldn't change what was about to happen.
Denvik had explained it to him, in great detail. That had been Bode's first mistake: letting him talk. But in that moment between the interrogation room and Kata's cell, when he’d been alone with Denvik, he was still reeling from his first experience with the darkness. So, instead of giving in to it, he'd tried to defy it. Instead of killing Denvik, Bode had actually listened to him.
“You'll never make it off this base alive,” Denvik had sneered over the noise of the alarm. “You, more than anyone, know the power of the ISB. You don't stand a chance.”
Bode had ground his teeth together, pushing the darkness down, trying not to think of the way Cal had looked at him the first time he’d tried to kill Denvik. He knew he should say nothing, refuse to engage, but in that moment he forgot everything he'd ever been taught. “You're wrong,” he said. “Cal and I will-”
“Yes, yes, you and the mark you think you're in love with.” Denvik laughed. “Pathetic. The second he finds out what you've done, who you really are, he'll kill you himself.”
Bode had growled, and made a grab for Denvik’s broken arm again, trying to force him into moving towards the cells. But despite Denvik's yelp of pain, he recovered quickly enough to throw Bode a gritted smile, a predatory glint in his eyes.
“Why don't we make a deal? Your life for the Jedi's. Surrender, go quietly to your execution, and I swear Kestis won't be killed.”
“Liar,” Bode snarled.
“Not necessarily. Kestis is useful to me,” Denvik said. “Once my troopers kill you, they'll put him back in the interrogation chair and this time I won't stop until he's told me everything I need to know. And after that? Well, you know how favourably the Inquisitorius look on those who hand them new recruits.”
The darkness pounded in Bode's head, telling him to kill and kill slowly. His fist flew out and collided with Denvik's face, sending him to the ground. Bode savoured the pained hitches in Denvik's breath, caught himself, and scrambled to reel himself back in.
But still Denvik kept talking. “Or maybe,” Denvik purred, “maybe your daughter will prove to be the more valuable of the pair - if I don't have to damage her too badly to get Kestis to talk, of course. Maybe I'll speak to the Inquisitorius about her next. I hear the younger they are, the easier they are to break.”
Denvik’s words shattered what little resistance Bode had. He hadn’t even let himself think about the possibility of Kata’s Force-sensitivity in case Devnik ever saw it on his face and sniffed weakness. The darkness soared to the surface, demanding he made Denvik suffer, and he twisted Denvik's broken arm just to hear him scream. But Denvik had passed out from the pain far too quickly to be satisfying, and the sound of approaching troopers meant there wasn't enough time to finish the job before Bode had fled after Cal.
The thing was, Bode knew the ISB playbook. He'd lived it. Whatever Denvik did or didn't understand about the dark side, he knew everything about the power of despair. Now, in the wasteland of the hangar, tendrils of it were crawling through Bode's chest as the magnitude of what they were up against made itself clear, and the vague possibility of Denvik's taunts morphed into something more tangible.
Cal and Kata would have to watch him die. Cal was far too broken to resist another round of torture, and if the Inquisitorius got hold of him, they would unmake him to his core and twist him into something so dark that it wouldn’t even be Cal anymore.
And Kata… She looked up at him expectantly, her fear hidden behind a blind, unquestioning faith that Bode wouldn't let her get hurt, because that was the lie he’d told her ever since she was little. If he failed her, what then? Tayala would have died for nothing. Everything Bode had fought for, had compromised himself for, over and over again, would have been for nothing.
More troopers and droids poured into the hangar; Bode couldn't see them, but he could hear the echoing stomp of boots and metal legs, louder now than the roaring of the flames. The shots against the TIE fighter wing intensified. The troopers weren't trying to kill them, not really. Not yet. They were just trying to make them desperate enough to break cover. Bode could only imagine Denvik's glee, having him pinned down and trapped, knowing that Bode was fully aware of what awaited Cal and Kata once the troopers put a blaster bolt through his head.
No. Bode had no intention of dying, no intention of leaving Cal and Kata to their grim fates. There was another way.
Bode squeezed Kata hard. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?”
Kata, too scared and in too much shock to form words, nodded. She'd managed to keep hold of Mookie despite everything, so Bode kissed the top of Kata's head, then Mookie's.
“Whatever happens next,” Bode said, “I want you to stay here and close your eyes. Don't open them, no matter what you hear. Okay?”
With glassy eyes, Kata nodded again. Bode hoped that she would obey.
He shuffled over to Cal. Cal's skin was deathly pale, his bright hair dulled by ash. Bode’s fingers trembled as he brushed them against Cal's cheek, then bent down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Please be okay,” he whispered. “And please forgive me for what I’m about to do.”
Cal's lightsaber was still clutched in his hand; as gently as he could, Bode prised Cal’s fingers off it and felt the weight of it. Last time Bode held a lightsaber had been Dagan Gera’s on Jedha, where all he'd done was light up the red blade to distract Cal. It had been a long time since he’d actually wielded one, too long to remember, but he had to trust that the Force would guide him - for better or for worse.
BD-1 beeped questioningly.
“It's okay, BD,” Bode reassured him. “You watch over Cal. I've got the rest.”
Bode gripped the lightsaber and moved to the edge of the TIE fighter wing. This was it, now or never. Bode took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened the door. And the dark side rushed out to meet him.
And it was so easy to let it in.
The full, unequivocal embrace of the dark side was unlike anything Bode had ever felt. His veins sang with power, and his world narrowed down to a single thought: every trooper who'd ever threatened him and the people he cared about needed to die. This time he wasn't being consumed by the storm - he was the storm.
He stepped out from behind the TIE fighter wing, stared down the troopers and droids firing at him. Time seemed to slow, though Bode was sure it was just that he was moving faster. Blaster bolts screeched past his head, and all he had to do was move out of the way. He didn't even need the lightsaber because he could call the Force to himself like a thundercloud, and rain death from above. A clenched fist, and five troopers died choking on their own lungs. Bode took a step forward. A sweep of his hand, and a whole row of droids flew into the air, cracked into the wall hard enough to break, then fell like dolls back to the ground. Another step forward. The rumble of the wind blew from Bode's hands, forcing the troopers back, away from Cal and Kata.
And still the troopers kept coming. They saw the Force billowing around Bode and the bodies of their comrades on the floor, and still chose to follow orders and attack him. Pathetic, and futile. Bode waited until he was close enough to smell their fear before finally igniting Cal's lightsaber, calling the wind to him and pulling troopers into the blade before they could even cry out. The lightsaber hummed as if in pleasure as it cut through plastoid, metal and flesh alike, ending lives with a smoothness Bode had missed. Nothing killed faster, penetrated more easily, inspired more fear among Imperials. Was this how Cal felt all the time? Seeing troopers drop with each slash, carving wide bloody arcs into their fleeing backs, dealing death after death with every swing?
The troopers kept coming, and so did Bode. He lost track. Fifty, one hundred, a thousand? He'd been right: Denvik had sent everyone, so Bode wouldn't stop - couldn’t stop - until he’d taken everyone who'd ever supported this base and the atrocities it committed and ground them into dust.
Until, finally, there was no one left to kill.
Bode took a step back, looked at his handiwork. Trooper bodies and limbs were scattered everywhere. The stench of cauterised flesh mingled with the tang of burnt TIEs. Death hung in the air like a solid thing. For a long moment, there was no sound at all except the steady burning of the ships and Bode’s own heavy breathing.
Kata. Cal. Bode stumbled back to the TIE fighter wing, but this time instead of gliding on the wind, it was like he was struggling against it. During the fight, he hadn't even noticed himself being hit. Now, he could feel the sting of blaster wounds in his shoulders, arms and chest, the bruising aches where he'd shrugged off blows from electrobatons like they were nothing. When he reached Cal's still body, he collapsed to his knees, watching his own limbs tremble from the ebbing adrenaline and rising tide of pain.
“Kata,” he croaked, barely recognising his own voice, heart pounding in his throat. She was safe. He'd kept her safe, at the cost of so many lives. Maybe his own too, because black spots were dancing in his vision now.
Kata crawled closer to him, shoulders shaking, one hand on Cal's arm and the other holding Mookie so hard she might break him. Could she feel it? The cold darkness rolling off Bode in waves, emptying him out from the inside? Everything was happening from so far away. He wanted to fall against Cal and Kata and hold them close, but he didn't deserve that while his hands were greasy with burnt flesh.
Kata screamed, her eyes jumping to something over Bode's shoulder. He turned in time to see Denvik raise his blaster, but too late to do anything about it.
He felt rather than heard the blaster fire.
But there was no pain. Instead Denvik crumpled, a burning hole in his heart. Bode looked down to see Cal, upright but eyes barely open, Bode's blaster still hot in his hand.
“Cal!” Bode's hands found Cal's shoulders and lowered him gently back down to the ground.
Cal sighed, the blaster falling from his hand. “Bode,” he murmured. “Bode, I… The emptiness. It can be filled.”
Then he was gone again, eyes slipping closed and head lolling back against the ashen floor. Bode put his head on Cal's chest and couldn’t contain the sobs that tore out of him. For everything he'd gained, everything he'd lost, everything he could still lose. Denvik was dead and he should be elated but instead he just felt disconnected, like a lone wisp of wind blowing aimlessly through the rafters.
The sound of a ship's engine roared overhead, the wind rippling Cal's clothes under Bode's fingers. Bode couldn’t even look up. Whatever was bearing down upon them, he no longer had the strength, or the soul, to care.
“Kata, baby?” His tongue was too heavy and tasted like metal. He clung to consciousness like you only could when you were imminently losing that battle. “Stay close to me. Please. Stay with me.”
