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The sound of booted feet slapping against wet concrete echoed off the grubby walls.
Neon from a thousand signs was reflected in the grimy puddles of the alleyway, and the air was choked with fumes and the sour scent of old garbage.
He could barely think with the panic clouding his brain, his breath coming in too quick gasps of fetid air. There was a stitch in his side and his lungs burned from more than the smog, his eyes streaming.
He was so tired.
He almost lost his footing as he turned a corner, flailing his arms until he caught onto a drain pipe and kept himself upright. The rusted metal bit into the skin of his fingers that the gloves didn’t cover.
Just a little more.
Just a little longer.
The data-key was heavy in his pocket, concealed well enough that a random search probably wouldn’t find it, but not enough to fool someone who knew what they were looking for.
He ran on, occasionally looking back behind him.
If he was an optimist, he would have thought that had he lost his pursuer in the cantina or the winding alleyways that he had made a break for.
Since he was not an optimist, he had to believe he was still being followed.
Of course, even if he had lost his pursuer (pursuers?), that wouldn’t have meant he was home free. Life didn’t work that way.
He burst out into a quiet street, and if he had been at another time in his life, he would have been frightened by the shadowy figures hunched over in shuttered doorways, or the flickering streetlights that cast an ugly yellow light over the piles of trash and graffiti.
Instead, it was a sight he was welcome to see, as it meant that he was almost there.
Lungs burning and sight swimming, his feet slapped against the grimy street as he ran.
He turned into another alley; he spotted his destination.
He was here.
He was safe.
He had to be.
He slammed into the shuttered door with a noise that made him wince, and he hammered on it with his heart in his mouth.
“Open up! Desh-seven-nine-aurebesh!” he begged. “Please, you gotta help me- open the fuck up!”
He was almost sobbing as he begged, terror making his throat hurt.
The door opened and he all but fell inside, hurrying in and drawing in deep lungfuls of air. “Close it!” he snapped. “For the love of the stars, fucking close it!”
The door was obligingly closed, and he let himself breathe, panting and shaking as he slipped down the wall to sit on the cold floor.
“What the fuck?” a voice that sounded like it was underwater reached his ears. “Who the fuck is this guy?”
He couldn’t speak, and his jaw ached.
“He's one of our own, Aklay.” Another voice, female this time, snapped. “Get him some water.”
Someone crouched close. “Hey, Krayt? It’s Nexu.” She murmured, and he could smell a faint perfume on her clothes. He looked up, seeing her dyed hair, blue this time, in front of his face.
“Nexu?” he managed, still terrified. “Nexu, I have to move.”
She frowned, her delicate features moving to show her confused.
“Krayt, who were you running from?”
He shook his head. “I have to get off this planet,” he whispered hurriedly, chest throbbing. “Oh stars.”
The other man came back, and handed Nexu a canteen. She helped him drink some metallic tasting water when his hands shook too much to hold it, and he muttered his thanks.
Aklay, a burly, bearded human with a tattoo over his lips, scowled. “He one of ours? I ain’t seen him before.”
Nexu, helping Krayt to his feet, shot the man a scowl.
“He's good. He had the code, and I remember him from a job.” She stressed. “Krayt, you were supposed to be with the Coruscant cell, what are you even doing on this planet?”
He tried to stop the shakes and mostly failed.
“I was doing a job,” he murmured, eyes darting the back to the rusting door as if someone was going to come through it at any second.
Nexu snorted. “Of course you were doing a job,” she said with a little grin, although her eyes were worried. “But what has you so spooked?”
He tried hauling himself to his feet, and only had to hang onto the wall twice for balance.
“I... Nexu, I have to get off planet.” He said in a rush. “I need to go.”
Nexu frowned at him, eyes searching.
“Krayt,” she asked slowly. “Who did you steal from?”
Krayt bit his lip. “I didn’t know, okay? We just needed the credits, and then Mowvorr found this buyer...” he murmured miserably. “It didn’t seem that important.”
Nexu’s mouth twisted into something disapproving, but before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door.
Krayt felt the cold flash of panic run down his spine and towards his fingers and toes.
“Nexu, don’t open the door.” He whispered, staring at the rusty green paint that covered the inside of the safehouse door.
Nexu frowned.
“Open up,” called a Republic accented voice. “Xesh-four-six-Qek.”
Krayt grabbed her arm as she made a movement to go for the door.
“Don’t.” He pleaded, “Please.”
“C'mon guys, open the door!” Came the voice again.
None of them moved, still as statues as they watched the door.
“Nexu, I’m serious here!”
Nexu drew in a sharp breath. “That code is Sleen's.” She breathed. “He missed his last check in.”
“Nexu? Guys? Are you there?”
Krayt couldn’t think.
“Guys, please!” the voice sounded panicked. “I think someone is following me, oh kriff- Please! Oh stars, let me in-"
Krayt was paralysed. He couldn’t breathe.
Nexu was wide eyed, her whole body tense. “That's... What if that's Sleen?”
Krayt grabbed her arm, his fingers curling into her skin hard enough to hurt.
“What if it isn’t?”
She swallowed and didn’t move, eyes fixed on the door.
“If you can hear me, you gotta let me in!” the voice pleaded, and it hurt to listen to. What if it was their missing brother? Was he letting a man die, alone and ignored?
He bit his lip and tasted blood.
The banging stopped, as suddenly as it began.
An eerie silence was left in its wake, and Krayt wasn’t sure he was even breathing any more.
“I... is it gone?” Aklay asked, voice small. “I can’t hear anything.”
Nexu didn’t answer him, her eyes fixed on the door.
Gradually, they relaxed by a fraction.
As they did so, there was a beep from the computer terminal shoved onto a solid looking metal desk. It was a security monitor, and Nexu crossed to it with shaky steps.
She looked at the screen, and frowned.
“It’s the security system,” she muttered. “It’s registering something weird.”
That was not what Krayt wanted to hear.
Nexu squinted at the screen.
“West side, first floor, third window.” She muttered. Another beep. “Oh- now it’s the ground floor back door.”
Her eyes were scanning the screen, her knuckles white. “Ground floor, second window. Sixth window. First floor, windows one through seven. That can’t be right.”
Her eyes were wide, and the beeping was constant.
“Ground floor main door.” She looked up. “That's this one.”
Krayt darted to her. “It's a hack,” he realised. “Someone’s in the system.”
Nexu, her fingers flying across the keyboard, shook her head. “They can’t be. I built this system myself.” She muttered, but she kept typing.
The alarms going off were making their heads ring, and Krayt couldn’t turn his head fast enough as Nexu read them out.
“I can’t stop it!” Nexu cried, her voice wavering. “I can’t even see an entry point-"
Then, the power shut off.
The lights went black, and the terminal screens died.
Krayt fought not to panic.
Aklay was shuffling around, and he heard curses.
“The backup generator will come on in a moment,” Nexu whispered, fumbling in the dark.
Oh, this was a mistake.
“Don’t go anywhere.” He muttered. “Don’t go anywhere on your own.”
Nexu's breathing was loud and ragged.
“Where are you?” she hissed. “I can’t see anything.”
Krayt frowned.
“Aklay?” he asked quietly, realising he couldn’t hear the cursing any more.
Then, the backup generator kicked in with a hum, and emergency lights flared a dull red in their strips.
Something metallic reached his nose.
Nexu screamed.
A knife was sticking out of one of Aklay's eyes, sunk in all the way to the hilt. His expression was terrified surprise.
He was dead, and slumped against the wall, his face covered in a slick layer of blood. It had soaked into the fabric of his shirt, and his beard was matted with it.
Krayt stumbled back, and his stomach churned. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aklay, the blade still lodged in his eye.
Nexu was still screaming.
The world swam, and Krayt had to clutch at the wall.
He wanted to close his eyes and wake up in his own bed, having never heard of the job Mowvorr had offered him.
Something wet ran down his chin and he realised that he was crying.
He tore his eyes away from the body, and over to the door.
It was still bolted.
Whatever had done this was still here.
“Nexu,” he rasped. “Nexu, we need to run.”
She didn’t answer, whimpering quietly as she stared at the body of her friend, cooling against the permacrete.
The lights flickered.
Nexu sobbed, and Krayt forced his legs to work.
He crossed to her, and she flinched when he grabbed her shoulders.
“We need to go.” He stressed, and his own voice sounded weak and about to break.
“I really wouldn’t advise that.”
Krayt jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and Nexu cried out and stumbled back.
Krayt had just enough presence of mind not to do the same, considering the barrel of the gun that pressed against the back of his head.
His body was paralysed, and his breathing was shallow and terrified. His heartbeat was loud in his ears.
Nexu was staring at a point over his shoulder, and he shivered.
“Against the wall, now. Hands above your head, if you please.”
The voice was male and accented, and something cold settled in his belly.
He did as he was told, and felt Nexu shiver beside him.
“Krayt?” she whispered faintly as they shuffled. “What have you done?”
Swallowing hard, he didn’t reply.
He raised his eyes as he put his hands above his head, and looked at the person on the other end of the gun.
Chiss.
That was a surprise.
The man smiled, and Krayt felt something awful slip down his spine at the sight.
He was holding a blaster, but a long rifle was strapped to his back, and his armour was telling in the lack of identifying marks.
Spy.
Or an assassin.
He wore white armour over a black undersuit, and a machete was sheathed at the small of his back. A brace of throwing knives decorated his torso. One was missing.
Krayt refused to look at the body again.
His smile was from a holo-vid, but his eyes were flat and cold.
“The Empire doesn’t take kindly to thieves.” He said conversationally, and Nexu made a small noise when she realised exactly who Krayt had stolen from.
Krayt hadn’t known.
He hadn’t asked who the mark was.
He had never regretted anything more.
The Chiss was watching him.
“Where is it?” he asked pleasantly, tilting his head.
Krayt worked to open his mouth, but fear made him shake.
Carefully, the Chiss cocked the pistol and aimed it between Nexu's eyes. She trembled.
“Don’t make me ask again.” The Chiss chided. “Imperial Intelligence will find what you stole,” he promised, tone cool. “Your choice is if your friend dies before we do.”
Imperial Intelligence.
Krayt had heard rumours.
Nothing ever good came from a conversation that included the intelligence arm of the Empire.
They were shadows.
Their field agents were legendary in their skills and brutality, their absolute dedication to their mission.
The Chiss watched him, and Krayt got the feeling that he was standing in front of something hungry.
“It’s in my pocket.” He blurted out, sudden like something had given away inside of him. “I don’t know what’s on it.”
The agent seemed to look through him.
“Show me. One hand.” He ordered, his aim steady.
Krayt did so, putting out the small drive with two fingers and praying to any gods that might deign to listen that he wouldn’t end up shot.
“Place it on the floor. Kick it over.”
He did as he was told. The Chiss didn’t look at the drive as it was passed over.
Krayt swallowed hard.
“I d-didn’t know it was the Empire.” He managed, “M-my contact didn’t say-"
The Chiss smiled, and one might have thought it kind.
“I know,” he said simply. “Your contact, he was very informative. Mowvorr, I think he said his name was? Talkative, that one.”
Krayt didn’t know what to say to that.
The Chiss turned his attention on Nexu, who shook like a leaf next to him.
“And you.” He murmured, “I don’t have orders regarding you.”
“P-please, let us go.” Nexu managed, tears making her face blotchy.
Krayt had just wanted to be safe. Now he had brought the Empire to their doorstep.
The Chiss smiled kindly at her.
“No lose ends,” he said simply, and pulled the trigger.
Nexu's head snapped back from the force of the shot, and she was dead before she hit the floor.
Krayt heard himself scream before the jolt had made it’s way through his body.
The Chiss looked dispassionately at the body.
“It's not personal, darling.” He shrugged, before turning back to Krayt.
He raised his hand to a discreet earpiece.
“Cipher Nine to command. Package is secure.” He intoned flatly, no inflection or emotion there now. “Understood.”
He paused for a moment, apparently switching channels.
“Kaliyo? When I’m done, sweep the safehouse. No survivors.”
He lowered his hand and looked back to Krayt, who could barely keep himself upright.
Terror made his head swim and his breath was shallow and ragged.
Cipher Nine seemed to look at him consideringly, before he brought his pistol up again.
“Like I said,” he said with a shrug. “It's nothing personal.”
The last thing Krayt saw was the muzzle flash, and nothing more.
He didn’t have time to panic.