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Prompt 1--Racing the Clock
“You…karking…bastards!” Piett snarled, straining fiercely against all the hands holding him in place. But this made no difference and his captors merely laughed at his struggles. His ankles were locked into place with the heavy durasteel cuffs and then his left wrist, his arm extended away from his body. His right arm they fought to force through the awful device around his shoulder and he bucked then, hating the feeling of inevitable helplessness.
“Love the fight, Admiral,” drawled the leader, a tall Devaroninan, who looked almost bored. “I’ve heard the rumors. But it’s pretty pointless when six people are pinning you down. There we are.”
The final cuff clicked into place and he was well and truly trapped—locked onto this steel table with no conceivable way to escape.
“You have to appreciate the Hutts,” continued the Devaronian, examining his claws as he strolled around to stand by the device. “They know how to exact the right sort of psychological terror as well as physical distress. Even IF a rescue team makes it through the first round of explosives to get in here, this secondary one will be counting down. Don’t worry. You’ll lose the arm first. At two minutes I believe. Gives you time to enjoy that.”
Piett glared, already knowing he needed to conserve energy. The device over his arm had a gleaming blade at the top. He could see the clock set into it and knew the blade would drop to sever his arm if no help arrived.
The kidnappers filed out, business done, and Piett heard the door slide into place at the top of the stairs he couldn’t see.
He tested his restraints once more, but he already knew it was futile. He could not escape. His breathing and heart rate were skyrocketing and he swallowed, staring up at the rocky ceiling far above him. There were a few dim lights around this room which had been carved from a natural cave. He wondered where the actual kark he was.
Not that it mattered in one sense. He didn’t want anyone else to die with him. On the other hand—-
—this was an awful way to die and he really, really didn’t wish to go this way, slowly dying of thirst and hunger alone in this cave.
There was only one option he could think of, and Piett let his head rest back on the steel surface, doing his best to calm his breathing and heart rate.
Warm brown eyes. A mouth that curved often at the edge. Dearest Admiral.
Princess , he thought, reaching for her with his mind and soul. I need you.
He was well aware that she was on mission at the very far end of the Mid-Rim. Their bond, forged so mysteriously not that long ago was not the same as that of two Force users. It had served both of them well in numerous tight situations, but he had no idea if she could sense him from here. Wherever ‘here’ was.
Please, he thought, closing his eyes. He knew he would rapidly grow weary of the sound of his own breathing and heartbeat. The Hutts had planned their revenge well. He hated being helpless above all else. Add to that the possibility that others could die trying to reach him—-others he cared about dearly—-and he was desperate to move.
Could—-could he trigger this device somehow? It made him shudder to think about, but it would be quick.
But the cuffs holding him in place were designed to hold Wookiees. He could curl his fingers and rotate his ankles a little but that was it.
Please, find me.
***************
“She knows it’s this system!” Scraps exclaimed, his intensity bordering on disrespect, but it was clear that Fox was going to let it slide given the circumstances. “We just need to get there. We can hopefully use our own equipment to find him from there!”
They were in the Senior Conference room—-Scraps, Fox, Wolffe, Venka, and Veers. The Princess had contacted the ship five hours previously. She and her people were on their way back from her own mission, but she was adamant she wouldn’t be in time to find Piett. They must leave now.
“Agreed, Lieutenant Commander,” Fox said in that cool way of his. “But we also have no idea what sort of odds we’re facing and the strength of the team we need to take.”
“Then take the Lady!” the boy exclaimed looking at all of them. “If anyone can find him once we’re there, it’s her!”
Veers raised his eyebrows consideringly.
He had a point.
The thing was, they were supposed to be supporting Commander Skywalker and his mission to Forawa, the pale lavendar planet rotating slowly below them. It was one thing to take a team from the Lady to rescue her Admiral. It was quite another to take the Lady herself. But with Yang in sickbay, badly injured trying to protect Piett, and another of the security team dead, the General understood Scraps’ urgency. He looked over to Tom.
“Vice Admiral?”
Venka sighed and paced back from the viewport.
“We’ll catch hell for it. But we have cause. I’d say the life of our Admiral is more important than diplomacy, wouldn’t you?”
“Always,” Veers growled.
There was a beat as they all looked at each other. Then Venka tapped his comms.
“Bridge. Set course for the Garos System. We leave now.”
**********************
Piett stared at the blade gleaming above him, counting all the tiny ridges in the metal. Again. He wasn’t certain how long he’d been prisoner here, but it was long enough that he’d resorted to things like this to stay sane. He didn’t think it had been three days or he would likely not be conscious from lack of water. Two perhaps? Long enough to be dizzy and wonder if he was hallucinating. Long enough that his trapped body was screaming in pain at being held in the same position for so long.
He had tried replaying moments from his life in his head—happy times, things that could bolster his spirits. But this had led inevitably to thinking through the darker experiences as well. And he found that he couldn’t really mind that, because at least they were taking his mind off of his current circumstances.
But he knew how many ridges were in the metal of that blade. He had estimated the size of the room in both human and Wookiee metrics. He had walked the bridge of the Lady in his head numerous times now.
The best he could hope for was that he could perhaps be unconscious when he died. His thirst was most certainly becoming painful. His hunger he could manage—he had learned to do that as a child. But any being without water this long—-
Well.
He thought of the Princess, reaching for her once more in his mind.
Please.
Hear me.
And then—-
That was the hiss and screech of the old door.
And a surge of panic raced through his body. Because that sound meant explosives and death for people he loved.
“NO!” he shouted, his voice strange and unnatural to his ears. “BOMB!”
Could they hear him?
Seconds were an eternity.
“BOMB!” he cried again, arching as far as his restraints would allow.
Please, Force…
“Back!” he heard someone yelling. “Get back right now!”
And then there was the sound of someone sprinting…
….sprinting INTO the cave…
And Matthew Scraps appeared at the foot of the steps just as a mighty roar sounded, thundering deafeningly throughout the cave.
The boy flung himself toward Piett, landing half over him as debris and dust rained down upon them.
The Admiral waited for it to be over. For darkness to take him.
But gradually, as his sight and hearing returned, he discovered that he still lived. That the warm body above him was also breathing rapidly, protective arms still wrapped around Piett’s head.
And Matthew pulled back, coated in dust, but alive.
“Sir…” he breathed, then coughed and spat over his shoulder. “Oh, Admiral… ”
He placed a hand on Piett’s chest as he examined the device over his outstretched arm.
“The…others?” Piett croaked. “Matthew…”
“I think they got out in time, sir,” he replied, reaching to his belt for a canteen. “I’ll try my comms in a moment. Here, Admiral.”
He slid an arm under Piett’s aching head and raised it enough to help him drink blessed, blessed water.
“Not too much, Admiral,” he said, gently removing his hand, and Piett knew he was right even as his throat ached for more. He had no desire to be sick while trapped horizontally.
His security lead tapped at his comms.
“General?”
Nothing.
Piett watched him, unable to keep his eyes off the comm in Matthew’s hand.
Please, Force, let his people be all right after all of this…
“Commander Fox?”
Scraps bit his bottom lip and glanced at him, this courageous boy of his who had not fled the cave, but charged into it to get to him.
“General—-”
“----raps? That you? Come in, Scraps!”
He and Matthew let out a breath simultaneously and grinned shakily at each other.
“Sir, I’m here. Is everyone all right on your end?”
“We’re fine, Lieutenant Commander, just a little battered. You?”
Matthew opened his mouth as a different voice came on his comms.
“Don’t think you won’t be hearing about your dumb ass, sacrificial stunt, Scraps,” snapped Fox.
“I’m with the Admiral, Commander,” Matthew replied, green eyes utterly unrepentant.
How he loved this boy.
“Status?” Veers asked, voice at its most coldly authoritative. Which meant Max was really worried, then.
“I’m here, General,” Piett rasped. “We’re not hurt.”
There was a beat.
“Firmus. We don’t have any Jedi available yet. The Princess is on her way. How urgent is the situation?”
“Secondary bomb,” he replied, not having the energy or time to dither around. “Connected to a device beside me.” He decided not to mention what the device could do to him at the moment. “There’s a clock. I can’t see it so I don’t know how much time I have.”
Matthew stepped over to examine the device, glaring at it furiously and swearing under his breath.
“What was that Lieutenant Commander?” asked Fox.
“Ah…sir, according to this, we have eleven minutes.”
Well kark, Piett thought.
*************
Matt couldn’t believe it. Not after all they’d gone through to get here. To survive the first blast and find the Admiral alive only to be stymied by the Force damned second bomb. The one attached to that awful blade.
And Piett was very white, the lines around his mouth and eyes too pronounced. Matt could only imagine the pain he was in, having been cuffed like this for over two days now.
“Can I try and free you, sir?” he asked, examining one of the heavy binders around the Admiral’s right ankle.
“No,” Piett replied hoarsely. “Fiddling with them will set this off. I’m not sure if I’ll lose the arm first or if the explosion will happen first.”
“Damn it,” Matt muttered, coming back to look at the device. “What did they say about this thing?”
“That I’ll have about two minutes without an arm before the explosion goes,” Piett replied. His Admiral was steady—he’d always admired his endurance—-but Matt could hear the slight shake in his voice.
Two days to consider that…
He tapped his comms open again.
“General. The device is connected to a blade that will sever the Admiral’s right arm if we do this wrong.”
Veers didn’t bother to stifle his very filthy swearing.
“Scraps. Can you open it without setting it off?” Fox asked him.
He examined the plating and pulled out his knife, carefully inserting it and peering at the wires inside with his blaster light.
“I think so, Commander,” he answered.
The clock read 10:18
“Do it.”
Matt pried it off and it clattered to the ground. Piett’s jaw clenched as Matt looked inside the device, and he saw the Admiral’s fingers clench and unclench. Kark, he needed to free this man.
“Admiral,” he said, glancing to the exhausted hazel eyes watching him. “What if I start working on this and the blade comes down?”
“Rocks…” Piett managed, his voice terribly rough.
“What do you mean, sir?” Matt asked, pulling out the canteen again.
“Pile some of the rubble over my arm. If it does come down, it won’t cut me,” Piett said and accepted more water.
“Right.”
Matt hustled back to the area that had blown in and gathered as many flattish stones as he could. It took several trips and some jimmying, but he was satisfied with the protection he’d given Piett.
The clock read 8:42.
“Scraps?” It was the General again.
“All right, sir. I’ve protected the Admiral’s arm. I’m looking at seven wires.”
“Describe them,” Fox ordered.
Matt squinted inside, unwilling to touch the wires yet. “Two white, two orange, one green, one red, one blue.”
“No purple?” Fox asked him.
“No, sir.”
He could hear Fox consulting with Wolffe.
“All right, that is unusual for a seven wire configuration, Scraps. So it looks like they didn’t just buy something standard. They did a custom job.”
“Firmus,” said the General. “Thoughts on how cartels might mess with this type of explosive device? From what you’ve seen in the past?”
Piett was so very weary. Scraps could see that breathing was an effort. But the Admiral frowned a little in thought, gathering himself to focus.
“It could be that…the connection to this blade thing required the wiring,” he said at last. “Thus the duplicate colors.”
“Wolffe thinks this as well,” Fox put in. “Scraps, cut the outside white and outside orange wires.”
“Are you certain, Commander?” asked Veers. Matt could hear the sharp concern.
“Don’t have much time not to be,” Fox replied.
The clock read 6:53.
“Do it,” said Piett.
Matt took a breath and cut the wires. Nothing happened.
“We’re good,” he said. “Now what?”
“Now we need an alternate source to connect those to,” came Wolffe’s voice. “Confuse the mechanism.”
“To then do what?” Matt asked, staring at the cut ends. Beside him, Piett did his best to stretch his neck, groaning a little in pain.
“Cut the rest of the wires,” answered Fox grimly. “While it can’t connect to the explosives.”
“Even if we had a power source,” said the Admiral, closing his eyes and sighing, “they have to be cut simultaneously. The mechanical confusion won’t last long. Matthew’s knife can’t do it fast enough.”
“My blaster?” asked Matt, drawing it. “If I do a sweeping shot?”
There was more discussion on the other end of the comm.
“Still a risk, Mr. Scraps,” said Veers grimly at last. “Not to mention you could shoot the Admiral.”
5:02
“We still don’t have an alternate power source,” Piett reminded them. Matt blinked.
“Yes, we do!” he exclaimed. Piett raised his eyebrows.
“The comm,” he said, gesturing with the hand he was holding it in. “My comm.”
“If we use that, we won’t be able to talk to you,” Fox reminded him.
“I know. So. Tell me now. What should I attach it to?”
He was already opening it carefully with his knife. He needed to keep everything intact until they were done giving him instructions.
“You have a standard comm, yes?” Wolffe asked him. “Imperial make?”
“Um…” Matt said, suddenly unsure. But Piett nodded.
“Yes, he does,” said the Admiral. He flexed the fingers on his right hand, and Matt looked at him in concern.
“Is your circulation…?”
“Won’t matter in a few moments either way,” Piett reminded him, a grim set to his mouth. “It’s all right. The stones are protecting my arm…”
He trailed off and his eyes suddenly went wide.
“I know how we can do this!” he exclaimed, dry throat making his voice crack.
Matt glanced at the clock.
3:58
“Use the blade,” Piett said, nodding his head at the awful thing. “It’s sharp enough. It can cut them all simultaneously. But you need to thread the wires through on top of one of these stones. Get the flattest surface you can, Matthew.”
He obeyed as the General spoke.
“Piett…what if the rocks shift? Your arm…”
“Better my arm than the explosion,” the Admiral replied, watching Matt as he cautiously drew out the wires without disconnecting them so that they rested across the topmost stone under the blade. “This can work, Max. But—”
He paused, throat working.
“If it doesn’t—”
“Nope,” Veers said immediately, and Matt was grateful for these two men and their tight friendship that gave the General’s voice such conviction. “You’re walking out of there. We’ll assume when there’s not an explosion in—-how long Mr. Scraps?”
Matt glanced over.
“Two minutes forty-five seconds, sir.”
“Kark me,” Veers growled. “Right. If there’s not an explosion after that, we’ll assume it worked.”
There was a beat as Matt feverishly placed wires.
“Lieutenant Commander.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That is my dearest friend in there with you.”
“I won’t fail, General,” Matt told him, and Piett gave him a small, pained smile.
“Then the Force be with you,” Veers said and their connection ended. Immediately, Matt pulled the wires out of the comm and set to work attaching them to the orange and white wires he’d cut on the device.
2:13
“Matthew,” croaked Piett. “Dear boy…”
“It’s going to work, sir,” he said fiercely. “I don’t regret anything, by the way.”
With a suddenness that had both of them jerk in shock, the blade came down with a THUNK onto the wires.
Matt’s eyes met Piett’s and for long seconds they just breathed. Then he turned his eyes to the clock.
1:49
And…it stayed that way.
Matt punched the air.
“Yes! Hold on, sir…”
Swiftly he ripped the wires completely out of the device so there was no chance anything could be triggered.
Then he turned his attention to the damned cuffs trapping his Admiral.
“You’ll need better equipment, Matthew,” Piett told him tiredly. “These are to keep a Wookiee prisoner and you don’t have the right tools.”
Matt felt hot anger surge through him. They had meant for this man to suffer keenly. And while they had prevented the worst, he was well aware that Piett had been through numerous hells all alone here. Matt would cheerfully assassinate every Hutt personally if that was what it took.
“Sorry, Admiral,” he said, offering Piett the last of the water. “But they’ll be getting us out as soon as possible.”
“The rest of my team?” Piett asked.
And Matt was reminded keenly of the losses incurred when Piett was kidnapped.
“Yang will make it, sir,” he answered. “Keinzer ah…there was nothing to be done.”
His throat hurt and it had nothing to do with dust.
The Admiral closed his eyes in pain. His team had done everything to protect him, and Matt was well aware how personally he took this. He moved to Piett’s left side to rest his hand on his arm.
Piett looked up at him.
“How did you know to come here?” he asked.
“The Princess,” Matt told him, smiling. “She felt you trying to reach her. She didn’t know precisely where—-just the system. But that was enough to go on.”
Piett considered this and tilted his head. “But…you got here so fast. As in, this spot specifically, so…”
“We brought the Lady, Admiral,” Scraps said. “She’s well up to finding you. Which she did almost the moment we came into orbit.”
He watched Piett absorb this just as a mighty rumble sounded outside, and Matt stepped protectively closer to the Admiral.
“S’alright, dear boy,” Piett murmured, nearly spent. “ That, is Jedi work.”
The earth shook and light flooded down from the stairs as the rubble was cleared. And after that, it was a lot of people with the right equipment.
The General and Princess were beside the Admiral in seconds, and Her Highness raised a hand. Scraps never got tired of watching the Force at work, and this was one of those moments as Piett’s restraints snapped open. Fox huffed and lowered the tool he’d been about to use.
“Dearest Admiral,” said the Princess as Veers and Matt set about clearing the rubble off of Piett’s right arm and easing it out from under the danger of the blade. She bent to take Piett’s face in her hands and kiss his cheek.
“You heard me,” he murmured.
“I heard you,” she agreed, resting her forehead briefly to his. Then she turned to Matt and shocked him by reaching up for his face and drawing him to her to kiss him as well. “You are wonderful,” she said, smiling brilliantly at him.
Matt flushed deeply, but smiled.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” he replied. “But all of this is a group effort.”
“Mmm,” she said. “Your part takes special note.”
“Why are we dawdling?” asked a familiar voice. “I have a patient to get to!”
Piett blinked up at Matt.
“Henley came down?”
“Henley came down,” said the man himself, shoving past Wolffe who gave him a sour look. “Of course I did.”
It was highly unusual for Henley to actually join away teams, as most of them were well aware. There was no 'of course' about it. Matt met the eyes of General Veers, but neither of them said anything as Henley ran a scanner over the Admiral.
Piett struggled into a sitting position, every movement clearly causing him pain, and once upright over Doctor Henley’s protests, his eyes found Veers just before he tilted sideways.
The General was beside him in a moment, wrapping a supportive arm around him and giving him a shoulder to lean on.
“I know I said you’d walk out of here, Firmus,” he said gently, “But in this case you and I both know your muscles are shot at the moment.”
Piett nodded in resignation as Henley huffed.
“Do you people know how lovely it is when you don’t listen to the medical professional?” he asked starchily as Fox maneuvered a grav sled over. And in short order, the Admiral had been transferred to this while Matt watched gratefully as he received strong painkillers and muscle relaxants. Then they all picked their way over the rubble to reach the sunlight outside where a shuttle was waiting for all of them.
Matt felt as though he’d lived an age when in reality they had only landed on this planet a mere hour ago. Henley was efficiently attaching drips to the Admiral and griping about every bruise he detected. Which of course, was his way of demonstrating that he cared and all of them knew it.
The Princess ran a hand over Piett’s head and then gestured to the place beside him.
“You should sit here, Matt,” she said kindly.
“Ah…General…” Scraps began turning to the man, but Veers merely smiled and gestured.
“Go on, son,” he said, uncharacteristically casual. “You earned the place of honor.”
A quiet snort sounded from the gravsled, but Piett was too tired to return snark to anyone. So Matt seated himself beside his Admiral as Wolffe tapped controls and the shuttle’s engines warmed up.
Veers and the Princess sat opposite them to stay out of Henley’s way, and Matt pulled one of the blankets further over Piett’s chest when he observed the man shiver a little.
“Thank you, Matthew,” he murmured. “Going to have to give you a commendation.”
“I don’t need one, Admiral,” he answered, smiling a little as the shuttle lifted off. “You’re here. That’s enough.”
“Giving you one…anyway,” Piett said, eyes closing. “Dear boy.”
Matt allowed his mouth to curl a little. That was all he needed.