Work Text:
Jaro Tapal hurriedly raised his lightsaber, barely deflecting a blaster bolt in time. That one was much too close. The droids were definitely increasing in number. "Fall back!" he roared to what remained of the regiment. They retreated farther into the massive hangar bay, falling back to their barricade of supply crates. "General, we're running out of room," Commander Dart grunted, ducking to avoid blasterfire. "I know. We just need to wait for Cal's reinforcements to arrive." The general deflected wave after wave of shots, glancing again to the double blast doors. Come on, Cal.
Finally the doors flung open, troops in 13th batallion armor pouring through. Master Tapal's spirits were lifted. But as trooper after trooper charged into the hangar with their weapon raised, there was still no sign of Cal. Commander Trech ran up the the crate barricade beside them, firing away at the droids.
"Commander, where is my padawan?"
Trech froze. "Wait. He's not with you?"
Master Tapal's panic grew. "What do you mean?"
"We were held back by a few of our injured, so Commander Kestis went ahead with a platoon as reinforcements," Trech said. "He didn't make it here?" The general's expression must have answered the question, because Trech swore under his breath. "Where is he?"
Suddenly, the barrage of blasterfire stopped. All the clones cautiously peered over the barricade to see that the droids had stopped firing, standing in place with their weapons aloft. "Uh, General?" Commander Dart asked quizzically.
Master Tapal was just as bewildered, but he couldn't show that to the troops. "Fire!" he shouted.
But as the troops took this advantage and began blasting rows of droids down, Tapal had a bad feeling. Amid the chaos of the battle he heard a door slide open and shut, and suddenly sensed a warm, familiar presence through the Force.
"Everyone, stop!"
The clones stopped firing, exchanging confused looks.
A ripple spread through the droids ranks - someone was making their way towards the front. "I agree with your General," an oily voice called out. "Cease fire-" a huge Besalisk in separatist dress strode forward, two of his meaty arms holding a struggling Cal to his chest. "Or your little Commander may not like it so much."
The besalisk's third hand gestured loftily for them to lower their weapons. The fourth was pointing a blaster to Cal's head.
Stay calm, Tapal told himself. Panic will not help Cal.
"Now here's what's going on to happen," the separatist leader said. "Nice and slowly, you and your regiment are going to walk out of this hangar."
Cal was squirming in his grip, pulling desperately at the Besalisks' arms. His short legs kicked midair, never reaching the floor. Tapal sent waves of calm into their bond, trying to dissipate his fear. Cal's struggling eased a bit.
Master Tapal noticed his hand edging towards the lightsaber on the Separatist's belt.
Be careful, Cal he thought.
"You're going to take your wounded and dead - or leave them, actually. I don't really care."
Master Tapal's jaw tightened at the man's cavalier attitude of the soldier's lives - they were good mean, who didn't deserve to die at the hands of this scum.
"You'll get back on your shuttles and leave this ship - hey!"
Cal had tried to grab his stolen lightsaber, but the Besalisk's reflexes were too good. He snatched the lightsaber out of the air, then cuffed Cal across the face with it. "Stay still, little brat," he growled.
Cal's head snapped back with the hit, and he let out a pitiful little yelp. He looked so tiny in the Besalsik's meaty arms.
Tapal could feel the anger of his troops rising. He agreed with their sentiments: he wanted to strike down this monster and his forces, but he couldn't do anything, not with Cal being used as a human shield.
The separatist casually returned Cal's lightsaber to his belt. "As I was saying, you'll leave my ship, board your venators and fly a good distance away. After that, I'll send your apprentice out to you in an escape pod."
Tapal hesitated, exchanging a look with Dart. They couldn't just leave Cal behind.
"It's up to you," the leader called. "Do I jettison him out in an escape pod," he prodded Cal's cheek with a meaty finger. "Or the airlock?"
Cal's eyes met Master Tapal's for a moment. Then he bit down on the Besalisk's finger.
"Ow!" He roared, dropping Cal. "Why, you little-"
As soon as Cal hit the ground, multiple blaster shots tore through the Besalisk.
"Advance!" Master Tapal shouted. The clones leapt over the baricade wall, cutting through swaths of droids. Tapal was right there with them, easily taking control of the hangar within a matter of minutes.
He hurried over to Cal, several feet away from the Besalisk body. He was curled up in a ball with his hands over his hands over his ears, trying to make himself a smaller target.
"Cal," Master Tapal pulled him upright gently, holding his hands so he wouldn't touch any of the surrounding carnage. The last thing they needed right now was for Cal to have a psychometric seizure.
His young padawan blinked dazedly. "Master?"
It was clear the little boy had been beat up when he was captured - he was covered in cuts and bruises, and a sizable lump was swelling on his head. The men were gathering around, worried about their little commander. Chief Medic Jet crouched down beside Cal, examining the deep cut across his face. "This'll need stitches. Let's get you back to the medbay."
Cal stood quickly, but Master Tapal could still see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
Jet squirted numbspray across the gash on Cal's face. Cal blinked, and sneezed.
"Sorry, buddy," Jet said. "I have to do that so you don't feel the stitches."
Cal nodded. "That's okay." His voice was quiet, not full of his usual bubbly energy.
Trech glanced up from helping Elo clean his vambraces. The general had asked the two of them to stay with Cal while him and Commander Dart were in the misson debrief. Cal sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning back so Jet could stitch up the gash over his nose. Jet's hands were fast and steady, closing up Cal's freckled skin quickly. "There you go, Commander."
Cal looked down. "Thanks," he said in that same quiet voice.
Trech leaned forward as Jet packed up the sewing kit. "Cal."
"Hmm?" Cal fingered the edge of the blanket on his cot.
"Cal," Trech tried again. The kid finally looked up with red rimmed eyes. "Are you okay?"
Cal hurriedly brushed the tears off his face. "Yeah, I just ... that was ..."
Elo placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. We get it. It's okay to be scared."
Cal sniffled. "But .. you guys don't get scared."
"Are you kidding? I'm scared of a lot of things." Elo lowered his voice to a stage whisper. "Have you seen Trech without caf in the morning?"
Cal giggled a little.
"Everyone gets scared," Trech said. "But out job is to face these challenges and keep going - to overcome our fear. Makes sense?"
The little jedi wiped his eyes. "Makes sense."