Chapter Text
The first thing Zeb heard, as he woke slowly out of a stun-blast induced stupor, was the sound of Alex screaming.
His heart thundered in his ears, his stomach churning. The last thing he remembered was snarling and fighting against his restraints as an Imperial technician adjusted the machine they had Alex hooked up to, cranking a dial and making his screams reach a deafening pitch. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious, but it must have been some time. Alex’s voice was ragged.
Zeb knew it was colossally stupid of him, but he kept doing it anyway: his ears twitched, trying in vain to pick up any hint of what was coming out of that headset. It was hard to imagine any sound could have this effect on someone, but the gut-wrenching proof was right in front of him. Alex was always so stoic. It felt wrong to see him like this.
He wasn’t quite sure why they’d kept him in the room. Maybe in their twisted little heads the Imps thought making him watch Alex suffer would make him start cooperating, or maybe they wanted to keep the dread building for his own inevitable session with the headset.
Not that Zeb planned on letting them get that far. All he needed was for them to leave the room for a couple of minutes. They knew Alex's capabilities and had him under tight security, restrained at all times, but they didn't have such a high opinion of Zeb. There was one set of standard binders around his wrists, magnetically clamped to the wall above his head, and that was it. His ankles and feet were free – a ridiculously huge oversight, and one which he would have laughed about with Alex after they busted out… if the ISB interrogators hadn't shown up right away and gone to work before he could act. Before he could get out of this mess and take Alex with him. They weren't so stupid as to come without a guard, and that guard kept eyes on him at all times. He couldn't reach up to try and undo the restraints without getting shot for his trouble. Alex wouldn't be any better off if that happened.
So he had no choice but to stand here helpless against the wall while they tortured the love of his life. Maybe that was what the Imps were going for. They had to know about him and Alex, given the snide remarks the ISB officer had made about "Agent Kallus's inclinations." Maybe they just wanted to punish them for loving each other.
Zeb's chest ached, as his ears kept straining. Alex had stopped screaming – his voice had given out – and it should be easier to pick up what he was hearing. Zeb knew it wouldn't do any good, but there was some part of him that was morbidly, horribly curious, and he hated the idea of Alex going through it all on his own. If he heard just a tiny fragment from a distance he’d probably be fine, and then maybe he would understand, how it had broken Alex like this.
He had already passed out multiple times, only to get shaken or drugged awake and forced back in. The last time, at least the last time Zeb had been conscious for, he'd been quivering and sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. The Imperials and even Zeb had expected him to plead for it to stop, but he'd let the headset slide over his ears again as docile as a kitten. Zeb had a sickening suspicion that it was because Alex was still conscious enough to know he was in the room. If he struggled, if he made it even a little bit hard to work on him, the Imps might just decide to work on Zeb instead.
There was nothing Zeb wanted more than to ruin his beloved idiot's self-sacrificial scheming, but one of them had to be functional to make sure they got out of here, and he knew it wasn't going to be Alex. He was tough, but whatever the ISB had cooked up it had gone right past his defenses. Zeb had never heard him scream like that… and that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst of it was now. When Alex had stopped screaming, and stopped crying, and his face was empty apart from the horror in his eyes.
Tell them something, Zeb begged him. Just make something up or tell them something that doesn't matter so they'll have to leave to check it and we can get out of here…
The interrogating officer clicked his tongue. "This isn't getting anywhere," he muttered to the tech. "He's had ISB training.” His eyes flitted over Alex briefly. “See if you can find the clip of the parents watching.”
The only reaction Alex gave – maybe the only one he was capable of giving by this point – was his eyes widening and his tortured breathing turning even more jagged. His arms jerked once, feebly, against the bindings that held them locked behind his back.
"Excellent," said the officer. “Try layering them together. And turn up the volume.”
An awful noise started to come out of Alex’s throat, like the air itself was suffocating him. His body spasmed in its restraints.
"Good. Increase again," the officer said. Alex went stiff as a board. The choking noise stopped; he’d stopped breathing completely. He couldn’t take any more of this. Desperately, Zeb opened his mouth to draw their attention no matter how bad of an idea it was, casting about for something he could say that would make them stop this now.
The ISB officer smirked. "Yes, leave him on that one for a while."
If there was a chance, any chance at all, Zeb was going to rip that officer apart with his bare hands. The tech too. He nodded eagerly and fiddled with a dial. Alex jerked back in the chair. Zeb saw the instant his eyes went from horrified to blank, and rolled back in his head. Then they closed, and his body went limp.
Despite himself he cried out, but none of the Imperials seemed to hear him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Without meaning he'd pulled forward, rattling the binders, and the stormtrooper in front of him raised his rifle threateningly.
"Oh, very well done," said the interrogating officer scathingly. "Now he's unconscious again. He'll be telling us a great deal now, I'm sure."
Zeb's heart stuttered with relief. Just unconscious. That was alright. They could work with that. But the empty look in his eyes…
"Sorry, sir," the tech said, cringing. "We could use the stim – "
The ISB interrogator was shaking his head with a disdainful expression. "We've already used it twice. Look at him, do you think he'd survive a third dose? We'll have to wait for him to wake up."
The tech's shoulders slumped, and a little panic came into his face. Clearly he wasn't as eager to face the consequences of screwing up an interrogation as he was to conduct it. "What about the Lasat?" he tried in a low voice. Too low for a human to hear from Zeb's distance, but he heard it just fine. Imps never learned.
The officer glanced back at Zeb. He swallowed, dread boiling in his gut. He wanted to snarl, show that officer the teeth that would tear his head off his shoulders, but he had to keep his face impassive. He couldn’t let Alex sacrifice himself for nothing. Now was his chance. He had to keep himself on his feet, to get them both out of here.
The officer waved a dismissive hand. "No more than a foot soldier, that one. Low clearance, I expect. Kallus has the information we need."
"Then shall I have him executed?"
"No. He may still be useful." The officer slid an appraising look over Zeb. "Kallus has a soft spot for him, it seems. Perhaps he may prove more cooperative if we put the Lasat in next time. Now that he's had a taste of it himself, he may be motivated to spare his… friend." The officer's nose wrinkled in disgust before he gave a nasty chuckle. “Assuming he still recognizes him, that is.”
"Excellent plan, sir," said the tech with ghoulish glee.
The officer sighed and rolled his eyes. "Indeed. Come along, lieutenant, you've done quite enough for one day…"
The tech went forward, pried the headset off Alex's lifeless body, then packed up his gear and finally, finally the Imperials left the room.
The instant the door closed Zeb turned his wrists, pressing his hands against the wall, and kicked off the floor. He had just enough room to work with – his shoulders pressed hard against the cold metal, but his feet went up onto the ceiling and gripped there.
He took a deep breath, trying not to think about Alex's empty eyes and his body slumped over in the chair, and began to curl up over himself. His feet slid across the ceiling until he could take one off and bend his leg back so that his foot landed on the binders.
He was pushing his limits, but the pain was almost refreshing after hours of inaction. At least now he was doing something. A few pulled muscles was nothing compared to watching Alex hurt.
Zeb grunted and extended the claws in his foot. He didn't usually need them to grip or to climb, and they were a right pain in the ass trying to walk without scratching the floor, but they did come in handy sometimes. Built-in lockpicks, he liked to tease Alex.
Standard issue Imperial binders had a lot of different weaknesses. The Rebels had known about some of them already, but when he first came to their Yavin base Alex had taught them all the ones they'd missed, then made them all practice until they could exploit every one with ease. Zeb had gone to more of those classes than he'd really needed to. He just liked the way Alex would hover over his shoulder, or how his gloved fingers would linger on Zeb's wrist when he was fastening the test restraints, and his quiet, firm praise whenever Zeb got it particularly right.
Now that he thought about it, Alex had tended to be a lot freer with his praise of Zeb than with anyone else. He was like that – he made you think he was all cold and restrained, but he was warm as morning sunshine under the hard exterior, and he cherished a secret love of making Zeb smile and laugh.
More tears ran down into Zeb's fur while he worked. In another few seconds the binders clicked open. Zeb braced himself against the wall long enough to retract his claws and unbend until he could let go of the ceiling and land in a normal standing position.
Then he leapt across the room to Alex.
"Alex," he whispered, lifting his lolling head and running his thumbs over Alex’s pale, tear-streaked face. "Alex? You in there? Wake up, love, come on. Wake up."
As he spoke he let go of him and went around to examine Alex's own restraints. These weren't binders – just thick leather straps wrapped over and over around his wrists. Maybe metal interfered with the headset somehow? Or maybe the Imps were just smart enough not to put a former agent in restraints he could break out of in his sleep. It was true that, on his own, Alex wouldn't have stood a chance at getting out of these.
Zeb's claws sheared through them in an instant. Alex's body slumped forward, teetering dangerously on the edge of the seat. The straps around his legs, securing him to the chair, were the only things keeping him semi-upright.
Zeb was careful of that as he cut through the leg bindings, and ready when Alex fell forward into him. He caught him as gently as he could, carrying him over beside the door. From here, he could see anyone who entered before they could see him, and it was as good a strategic position as any while he tried to bring Alex around.
He slid to the floor and gathered Alex into his arms. "Alex," he tried again, stroking his sweaty hair out of his eyes. "Alex love, it's me. It's ok."
Slowly, Alex started to stir in his arms, twitching and shivering. A hoarse moan stuttered out of his throat in broken pieces.
"It's ok," Zeb said, or started to say, because the instant he got one syllable out Alex jerked hard in his arms and let out a breathless scream. He writhed and fought – Zeb had to clamp a hand around his wrists to keep him from hurting either one of them – and only when it had been quiet for several seconds did he seem to relax a little. His head collapsed against Zeb, and he whimpered.
Ok, Zeb thought with a pang. No talking then.
Gingerly, he covered the back of Alex’s head with his palm, pulling him close and cradling him against his chest. His other arm wrapped around Alex in a tight hug.
Alex didn't react at first, but as Zeb held him he began to melt into the embrace, going limp. His shoulders shook, but Zeb didn't think he was crying. That would come later. Right now he was in shock.
It's ok, he thought, smoothing Alex's damp hair. I've got you.
His thumb brushed Alex's ear – Alex twitched but didn’t pull away. He had to know the familiar texture of Zeb's fur by heart.
Zeb touched his ear gently. To humans that wasn’t the gesture of surpassing intimacy and care that it was to Lasat, but Alex was well familiar with it by now and would know what it meant.
As he ran his finger over the oddly delicate but knobbly shell of Alex's ear, he wondered what would have happened if they'd hooked him up to the machine instead. Lasat had better and broader hearing than humans, and as Zeb had just demonstrated, most Imperials weren't aware of that. Even if they had been, they would probably have taken sadistic glee in seeing what their machine did to someone with a wider audial spectrum than their usual victims. By keeping their attention focused on him, Alex might not have just saved him pain – he might have saved his life.
Zeb sat there on the floor with him for some time. He'd been hoping Alex would recover enough to help him figure out a way to get out of here, but it didn't seem like that was gonna happen any time soon. He just lay there limp in Zeb's arms. He'd stopped shaking, which Zeb had thought was a good sign at first, but when he pulled back and looked down, Alex's face was still a blank mask with horror staring out behind the eyes. The only sign of life he gave was the trembling of his mouth.
"It's ok Kal." Zeb spoke as softly as he could, and when there was no screaming in response he was emboldened to continue. He leaned down and kissed Alex's forehead. "I'll get us outta here. Don't you worry about a thing."
He couldn't help but wait for an answer even though he was pretty sure it wasn't going to come. As the silence stretched on, he cast his eyes around the room searching for something to help them escape.
His gaze was caught by the long, narrow window running along the top of the wall. The room’s ceiling was high – much too high for anyone to touch the window, let alone try to break it. Zeb wondered if it was possible…
“I gotta leave you here for a bit,” he said to Alex, nuzzling his hair as an apology before lowering him gently to the floor and arranging him as comfortably as possible. “I’ll be right back. Got it?”
There was no response this time either. Selfishly, Zeb had been hoping for a little sign of protest when he separated them – Alex got a little clingy when he was in pain or just under the weather – but as far as Alex was concerned, he might as well have not even been there.
It worried Zeb. He kept thinking about what that Imp had said – how he’d jeered about Alex not recognizing him. Alex couldn’t forget him, could he? He had to remember him. He had to remember them.
Hesitating, Zeb knelt beside him again. “Alex…” he said. “Alex, d’you – d’you know me?”
Alex blinked slowly at him, then his eyes slid past Zeb’s face over his shoulder, fixing vaguely on the wall.
Zeb sighed and his head fell for a moment before he pulled himself together. Right now it didn’t matter if Alex did or didn’t remember him. What mattered was that he was alive and safe, and everything else after that could hold. The first and greatest priority was to get them both out of here.
“Right. You rest there for a bit, love.” He patted Alex’s cold, clammy hand. “Back in a sec.”
Zeb scurried up the wall with no problem, his feet gripping the metal as he hoisted himself up to the window. He clung there for a minute, searching. As far as he could tell, there were no motion-activated traps, lasers, nothing. Craning his neck, he looked out across the Imperial complex and down the building. The outside wall was sheer, but level. There was no way a human could escape successfully through this window, and in the Imperials’ minds, Zeb supposed, that was good enough.
He tapped a claw against the window. As he thought – this was made of cheaper, thinner transparisteel. The tough stuff, the stuff that was certified for use in starships to hold up in hyperspace, was a lot more expensive, and if there was anything Zeb had learned over the years it was that Imperials were cheapskates. They hadn’t seen any need to spend extra money on fortifying a window none of them could reach on a planetside base, so they hadn’t bothered.
Zeb dropped back down and looked around for something heavy. His eyes landed on the chair they’d tied Alex to. It was bolted down, but that shouldn’t be a problem for him.
First, though, he needed to get Alex ready. He wasn’t sure how much time they’d have once they went through the window, even if there were no alarms. He went back over to Alex, sitting where Zeb had left him still staring at the same patch of wall.
“Hey Kal,” he said, getting another slow, unfocused blink. That was an improvement, right? Alex was reacting to his voice. At least, he thought he was. Escape first, he chided himself. The rest later.
“Good news, I think there’s a way outta here,” Zeb told him. “Bad news, it’s gonna involve climbing. Know how big a fan you are of that.”
Alex’s eyes trailed distantly over the wall. Zeb reached out, taking his hand.
“Can you hold onto me?” he asked. He let his fingers uncurl so Alex’s palm was resting on top of his.
It kept laying there, so lifeless Zeb had to stifle the impulse to check for a pulse. Alex’s fingers didn’t even twitch.
“That’s ok,” he said, and squeezed Alex’s hand lightly before laying it gently back down beside him. “Easy fix.”
He went to the chair and picked up the severed bindings they’d put on Alex’s wrists, and started re-tying them so they’d hold. Then he went back to Alex.
It might have been an easy fix, but it felt repugnant, putting the Imperial bindings back on him. Zeb apologized to him over and over, making sure to handle his wrists as gently as possible. For all that, though, Alex didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing. As soon as Zeb had finished tying his wrists together, they flopped back down into his lap. Alex stared at them like he’d never noticed his own hands before.
“Ok,” Zeb said. “It’s gonna get loud soon. Just so you know.”
Instead of fixing on the wall or staring vaguely at Zeb, Alex’s blank eyes turned to the chair. For a moment they focused before slipping back.
A sudden surge of hope made Zeb grin, just for a second. Alex had heard him, and knew what he was planning. There was a part of him that was aware – maybe just a little part, but that didn’t matter. Whatever the Imperials had done to him, it hadn’t taken him away completely.
“Want me to cover your ears?” he asked.
He was watching closely and still just barely caught it: a miniscule sideways jerk of Alex’s head. Trying to shake his head no. That wasn’t the answer Zeb had been expecting, but as he pondered it he started to think maybe now that the initial shock was past, other noises might actually help distract him. Like when you got a song stuck in your head and you just couldn’t shake it out until something else started playing.
“Alright,” he said, and patted Alex’s hand again. “Let’s get out of here.”
Leaving Alex by the door, he went to the chair, planted his feet and wrapped his hands around one leg, and pulled. The metal groaned. He braced his arms against the seat and put all his strength into it, his face hot with strain. A moment later the bolt snapped. The release sent Zeb off-balance and he staggered as the chair leg flew up, but he managed to adjust pretty quickly. Before he steadied himself, though, the broken-off point of the leg scraped him in the calf. He swore on instinct as a drop of blood welled up at the edge of the cut and ran down his leg to the floor. Luckily the rest of the cut seemed pretty shallow.
Over by the door, Alex made a noise – the first one he’d made in a while. Zeb looked up and found Alex’s eyes fixed on the drop of blood with a look of horror and guilt.
“It’s ok!” he assured him. “It’s not bad."
That didn't seem to be helping. "I can barely feel it, really," he tried.
Alex made another whimpering noise. Zeb went over to him and rested his hands on his shoulders. “It’s ok,” he said again. “It’s just a scrape. Had worse than this just from walking into Chopper. Actually, that usually ends up a lot worse. That chair isn’t gonna hunt me down in the dead of night to get revenge.”
Alex’s eyes were clearer than they had been since he woke up; he looked like he wanted to say something, and his trembling mouth even moved slightly, but no words formed. A tear ran down his cheek.
Zeb took a stab at the likely cause of his distress. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “I know you wanna help, but you can’t right now and there’s no shame in that. Don’t waste your strength worrying about it. Rest if you can, and you’ll get back in fighting shape sooner.” He touched Alex’s cheek. “Then the Empire won’t know what hit ‘em.”
If Alex responded, he didn’t catch it – because at that moment his ears pricked up at the sound of voices down the hall. The Imperials were coming back.
Zeb swore again. It was too early. It had been less than an hour! Did they seriously think Alex would be up to another round already?
A few seconds later, Alex went stiff. He must have heard them too. His terrified eyes fixed on Zeb pleadingly and Zeb couldn’t help but lean forward to fold him into a quick hug.
“‘S ok,” he promised. “I won’t let ‘em at you.”
Another head shake so brief and labored he barely caught it.
“Or at me,” he amended, and Alex relaxed.
Of course he wouldn’t worry about himself in this situation. Who cared about a little thing like being tortured, right?
Overly heroic bastard. Zeb held him close for the briefest second, grateful for the sign that he was still very much himself. Then he pulled back and put himself between Alex and the door, pressing them both back against the wall. Glancing up, he marked the location of the door panel. He lifted his arm towards it and waited.
The door slid open to admit the ISB officer and the tech. The stormtrooper guard would be right behind them, but this time Zeb didn't plan on facing down four at once. His fist smashed into the door control panel.
It sparked and he pulled away quickly, wincing at the smell of singed fur, but the door slid closed behind the tech. As they whirled drawing their blasters, he lunged forward and tackled them.
The force he'd put behind it sent them all flying across the room. (Away from Alex, which had been his plan.) The officer's head cracked against the wall and he bent double, stunned, but the tech recovered almost as quickly as Zeb. He'd managed to mostly hold onto his blaster, firming his grip up and firing just as Zeb grabbed his arm and wrenched it away. The shot went into the wall instead, leaving a charred black mark.
Zeb's claws dug into his arm and the blaster dropped. He was about to knock the tech out with a punch, but as he lifted his hand another blaster shot sizzled right past his ear. He let go of the tech and both of them dived to the side as the officer fired again.
He'd been acting on pure instinct, and he was so used to having his own better weaponry to rely on that he forgot to dive towards the blaster on the ground. The tech snatched it up as Zeb leapt to his feet. Now two Imps were at range with their pistols in hand. Not a great situation, but Zeb had been in worse.
Unfortunately these Imps weren't stupid enough to close the distance. The tech retreated as the officer stumbled just close enough to be sure he wouldn't miss on the next shot. Zeb swallowed, eyes flicking between them. They didn't have any use for him dead, which gave him some advantage, but the instant he moved they would fire.
At that moment, the malfunctioning doors hissed open and immediately shut. None of them had been expecting it; they all spun to see Alex leaning upright against the wall, panting for breath and pale as a corpse, holding two wires from the busted panel together.
Zeb recovered quicker than the Imperials, who were gaping in shock at Alex. He leapt forward and crashed into them. This time, he was focused. This time he took no chances.
The tech got a quick and clean death. Zeb grabbed his neck and twisted, and let his dead weight drop to the floor. It was probably more than he deserved, but Zeb was too focused on the fight to worry about anything else. He turned his attention to the officer, who was just righting himself. His hand holding the blaster came up, but Zeb's fingers curled around his wrist before the muzzle could point at him.
It was easy to break human bones when he wanted to, and right now he wanted to. A red haze had descended over his vision and he snapped the ISB officer's wrist like a twig. He howled in pain and stumbled back.
Zeb tried never to let himself get like this. He'd spent too many years losing himself in the fog of revenge and pain and, as much as the Imperials might have had every bit of it coming, he didn't like who he became when he let the anger take him. It wasn't for the Imperials that he refused to give it a place to live – it was for himself, and for his family.
But right now? Right now all he cared about was that they'd hurt his Alex, and they'd made him watch. He balled up his fist and drove it into the ISB officer's stomach, then brought it smashing up into his face. With his other hand he gripped the officer's shoulder, keeping him from staggering back. He punched him again and again, until he felt bones crunching under his fist – he'd shattered the ribs. He let go of his shoulder then and let the next blow send him flying across the room.
The ISB officer struck the wall and slumped down, but his eyes were still open, if dazed. Weakly, he struggled up as Zeb approached. His unbroken hand reached inside his tunic and shakily drew out a holdout blaster.
"I don't think so," Zeb snarled. He grabbed the officer again, his claws raking down his chest, carving bloody slashes across his shoulder and under his throat. When he knocked the blaster out of his hand and shoved him away, the officer didn't get back up.
He was crumpled on the floor whimpering and wheezing. He was done fighting.
Zeb hesitated, the red haze fading. He glanced over at Alex.
There were some people who didn't have it in them to kill an unarmed opponent. Zeb wasn't one of those people. And because he wasn't, he did his best to stay vigilant. Sure, this Imp would have it coming, and so might the next one, and the next one. But he'd reach a point where it started getting a little too easy, where he stopped caring who really deserved it or who didn't a little too quickly. That path could lead someone to walking through a bunch of injured kids on their first mission, barely out of the Academy, and killing them all without a second thought. He would never let himself go down that path.
But at the same time, it didn't feel right to leave this officer alive. As serious as his injuries were, they were nothing that couldn't be healed by a dunk in a bacta tank. The Empire would have at least one in this very base, and this officer seemed high-ranking enough to warrant the trouble of dragging him down and tossing him in. He'd be on his feet terrorizing more innocent people within a week.
Zeb's eyes fell on the case the tech had dropped, and he had the solution. It wasn't exactly the moral high ground option, and he was sure Hera wouldn't be too happy, but… they'd hurt Alex. And this would sure as hell mean the ISB officer wouldn't be hurting anyone else any time soon.
Across the room, Alex touched another wire to the bundle held in his shaking hand and heavy-duty blast doors slid out to cover the entrance. That was good thinking. Zeb had just been hoping that disabling the regular door would keep more than one or two people from entering at a time, so he could deal with them easier before hightailing it. Now, he and Alex had plenty of opportunity to enact their escape.
At least, until they got out to the main complex and a massive target was painted on their backs. But the Imperials wouldn't be expecting them to go through the window; they'd lay siege to the door for a while first. There should be enough time.
First thing was first. Zeb hurried over to Alex. From the look of him, he wasn't going to stay upright for much longer. His free hand was curled clawlike over his ribs, arm held tight against his body like he was trying to shield himself from something Zeb couldn't see, and Zeb could hear his breath faltering from across the room. Sweat covered his forehead, and he was ghostly pale.
Zeb barely got there in time to catch him as his legs failed. He swept Alex into his arms and cradled him close, carrying him over towards the window.
He heard a noise coming out of Alex's throat, and bent closer.
"...eb," he was whispering hoarsely. "Zeb."
His heart swelled. Alex remembered his name. "Yeah, it's me. I've got you."
"C…couldn't let…" Alex twitched, letting out a whine of pain.
"Shhh," Zeb set him down and cupped his hands around Alex's face, cradling his jaw. "Keep your strength up. Still a long way home."
Alex grasped at his wrist weakly, fingers trembling as they tried to dig in. His eyes were wide and pained. "Not you. Couldn't…" More tears slipped down his cheeks.
Zeb wiped them away as best he could. "I'm ok. Thanks to you."
Alex had slipped the restraints to get at the door panel, so Zeb lifted his wrists and tied them again, making sure they were comfortable.
"Be right back," he promised. Alex's head dropped back against the wall, his eyes closing.
Zeb let him take a breather and went back over to the partially-bolted-down chair. Quickly, he yanked the remaining legs off the floor and carted it over to the window, holding it in one hand as he scaled the wall, then went up onto the ceiling.
Hanging upside down, he could wedge himself into the nook between window and wall. From there he had a decent angle, and proceeded to beat the chair against the window until it broke. Subtle escapes weren't his strong suit.
The window was made of cheap material, just like he'd thought – it cracked on the first blow and shattered on the fourth. Most of the shards went outwards, but Zeb turned his face away just to be careful. He'd made sure Alex was at a safe angle.
He cleaned the remaining jagged bits out of the frame by sweeping the chair legs over it a few times, then, satisfied he and Alex wouldn't be cut to pieces if they went through, climbed back down.
He let the chair drop. From outside he heard shouts and a harsh voice giving orders, and he could see the blast door glowing faintly as they started to torch their way through. That would take a while, though. And there was only one thing left to do.
He turned to the ISB officer and stalked towards him, picking up the case on the way, as well as his own discarded binders. He'd seen them operating the controls when they were using it on Alex; he could figure out how to turn it on.
Quickly, he yanked the officer up and put his uninjured wrist in the binders, clamping them to the wall. Then he slotted the headset over his ears. The officer's hazy eyes widened as he realized what Zeb was about to do.
Zeb ripped a strip of cloth off his uniform sleeve and stuffed it in his mouth as a gag. The screaming might hurt Alex.
"Time for a little taste of your own medicine," he growled. "Don't worry, they'll let you out soon enough." He glanced at the door, still barely glowing light orange at the edges. "Well… pretty soon."
The officer jerked wildly against the restraints, a desperate cry muffled beneath the gag. Zeb ignored him and went to the machine, switching it on.
The gag covered most of his screams, but Zeb could hear them well enough given his proximity. He still couldn't hear anything from the headset, though he'd stopped trying.
He wondered how many people that officer had tortured just like he'd tortured Alex. It was high time someone gave him a little back. Even so, he felt dirty and oily as he came away and headed back to Alex. He didn't even like touching the wretched machine, let alone using it. But he refused to kill him, and he refused to let him go, so this was what he had left. It felt like justice, even if a part of him worried it wasn't.
Alex's eyes were fixed on the officer on the other side of the room, thrashing in his binders. Suddenly Zeb doubted himself. Alex had so much faith in him…
Then he caught a flash of steely satisfaction in Alex's watery eyes. A firmness around his mouth that hadn't been there before. There was something about this Alex needed, some kind of catharsis, and Zeb found that he didn't much care about the oily feeling on his hands after all.
He hoisted Alex onto his back and made sure his arms were secure around his neck, then climbed up to the window. It was a tight squeeze with the two of them; he had to turn sideways and inch out carefully, one hand on Alex’s forearm at all times to make sure he didn’t slip.
Once they were out onto the side of the building, things got a lot easier. Like most Imperial architecture, the administrative tower was a big eyesore with a bunch of grey metal plating slapped over the exterior. That plating had plenty of weathered sections, seams, and connection points for Zeb to grip as he climbed down.
Now he was working against the clock. As soon as the Imperials spotted him outside, they would launch TIEs, and Zeb wouldn’t stand a chance against those on the ground. He needed to find a ship, big enough for two, and he needed to find it fast.
He took stock of the base’s layout. The TIE field was located away from the tower, on the open ground near the walls. The tower hangar itself would be under heavy guard.
His gaze went past the walls of the Imperial base, to the silvery ribbon of water stretching out beyond. The base was built on a steep cliff overlooking the river – he thought they used the current for power or coolant for some of their operations. The cliff itself wasn’t steep enough to pose a problem for him, and as for the river, there would probably be at least one or two troopers he could knock out on the way to pull the breathers out of their helmets. If he hurried, the two of them could be in the water before anybody even noticed they were outside. And if that didn’t work out, the water would help confuse the lifesigns scanners – it would be easy enough to lose any pursuit.
He adjusted Alex’s arms and nuzzled his wrist as he started climbing again, now angling for the rear of the base.
“Hold on, love,” he said. “We’re going home.”