Chapter Text
Verifying the rumor that the Empire has given up their newly installed listening post in the forests of Zastryll.
That has been their mission.
Well, now they not only know that yes, the rumor is true, but also why the Empire has fled the planet.
“Faster, Bodhi! They’re catching up!”
Right on cue another arrow hisses past his face – way too close for his liking – and embeds itself into the thick and dark soil only inches away from Bodhi’s foot.
Bodhi is right in front of him, running as fast as the uneven ground allows. The jacket that he’d wrapped around his hips earlier is gone, lost somewhere in the forest behind them. Cassian wishes Bodhi would still wear it; his light gray shirt is practically screaming “target”.
Cassian is panting, his muscles burning and yet he forces himself to sprint a bit faster. Adrenaline is flooding his body, making him more aware of everything around, filling him with this strange exhilaration. This whole situation is so totally surreal. And yet, somehow, he’s almost enjoying this. Almost. Well, he probably would if their shuttle hadn’t been another 50 yards of uneven, slippery and mossy ground away, full of death traps like holes and twigs. Or if Bodhi hadn’t been with him, for he’d never forgive himself if Bodhi got hurt because he’d failed to assess the danger correctly.
They’d never gotten the chance to talk to the natives of this planet, hadn’t even seen one of them properly, but their stance in this is quite clear. No foreigners on their planet, no matter where they come from and what they want.
And they’re very, very insistent.
He turns to try and make out their positions. He needs to know what he’s dealing with. How many there are, how close they’d managed to get already. Branches are moving and the foliage of bushes swaying. He sees shadows moving, out of the corner of his eyes and another arrow hurtling towards them. He doesn’t hesitate: he points his blaster in the direction the arrow had come from and shoots. The answering scream, followed by a dull thud, both pleases and sickens him. He doesn’t want to kill them, they only protect their home. But he won’t give up without a fight either. And he’ll certainly do anything to protect Bodhi.
His eyes quickly scan the surrounding undergrowth, the shadows and the movements, but it’s impossible to make out anything specific. He can’t tell where exactly they are or how many of them are following them. The only thing he knows for sure is this: primitive technology or not, they are a force to be reckoned with.
He turns back, glad that running blindly hasn’t sent him sprawling across the forest floor, and runs faster to catch up to Bodhi again.
It isn’t far. He can see the edge of the forest already, can spot the metallic gleam of their shuttle between the tree trunks.
It’s eerily quiet apart from the thudding of their boots and their panting breaths. Quiet enough that he hears the thrumming of a bowstring as it snaps back right after releasing an arrow. His head whirls back again, his eyes spotting the arrow immediately. It’s coming right for them this time. He doesn’t think, merely acts. And throws himself against Bodhi to push him to the ground.
Bodhi cries out in surprise. Together they crash into the ground and Bodhi grunts into the forest floor. But every sound dies on his lips as the arrow embeds itself into the ground only two feet in front of his face, the shaft still buzzing with vibration.
That’s when the second arrow hits.
Cassian hasn’t seen that one coming. But he feels it as it pierces his right thigh. He can’t help the pained outcry. Most of it is muffled by how close his face is pressed into Bodhi’s back, though. Barely a second later his teeth click together, biting back every further sound. Their followers don’t need to know that they’ve hit their prey. And neither does Bodhi. He would only worry and insist on helping him and that would slow them down and he needs to get Bodhi to safety!
So he pushes himself up again with a groan he can’t keep in. “Get up! UP! Go, go, go!” he urges Bodhi to move.
Of course Bodhi is wasting time they don’t have with hesitating while getting up. With hesitating on his account, of course. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” he shoots back. “Now run! The shuttle isn’t far. Run! I’m right behind you!”
And Bodhi does, this time.
Cassian gives a cursory glance down at his leg. Part of the arrow shaft peeks out at the front of his thigh, together with a big, nasty looking tip that doesn’t look like metal. It’s big and sharp and covered in his blood. Maybe it’s made from bone? Not that it matters now.
Cursing under his breath he pushes the pain away, countless years of experience with that sort of thing coming in handy yet again. And he starts running as well.
He doesn’t get far.
The shaft and fletching that protrude from the back of his thigh get caught up in bushes and even if they don’t they keep swinging up and down with his movements and send blinding hot spikes of pain through his muscle. Constant pain he can ignore, but this?
He can’t keep this up.
Bodhi is still running ahead as Cassian stumbles behind the cover of a tree, panting even heavier than before. Sweat is trickling down his brow and the back of his neck, soaking his shirt beneath his jacket. He wipes the worst of it off his face with the back of his hand, then focuses on the archaic projectile lodged in his thigh. Blood is already running down his leg and seeping into his dark pants. He can’t see it, but he can feel it.
Without hesitation, because time is of the essence, he pushes his blaster underneath his arm, unwilling to let it go completely. Then he twists as best he can and grabs the back of the arrow and bends the shaft between his hands, harder and harder, clenching his teeth against the searing pain in his leg, until it finally snaps. Breathing hard, he closes his shaking hand around the shaft right beneath the arrowhead and pulls it out.
Warm blood wells up and trails down his skin, making the fabric of his pants stick to his thigh. It can’t be helped. He knows he needs bandaging. Needs it badly. But he needs to reach the shuttle even more if he wants to have a chance at all.
And he needs to make sure that Bodhi gets there in one piece.
His leg still shaking he grabs his blaster again and leans out behind the tree. They are much closer now, he can actually make out vague shapes beneath the branches and bushes. He aims and shoots, aims and shoots, aims and shoots.
They stop their advance. Even stop shooting.
This is his chance. Maybe his only one. If he doesn’t act now he will never leave this place.
He pushes himself off of the tree and runs. Or better: stumbles. The pain he can life with, can power through it – maybe – but with every step his leg feels more unstable, more wobbly, threatening to give in underneath him.
His throat hurts, dry and burning with his hectically gulped down breaths.
But there’s Bodhi, at least 25 yards in front of him, leaving the forest. He just needs to get into the shuttle and he’d be as close to safety as possible right now. And that’s worth it. That is certainly worth it!
Bodhi turns back – of course he does. He hesitates, shouts Cassian’s name and steps back beneath the trees.
Cassian knows that he’ll run back right into danger to help him if he doesn’t act fast. So he waves Bodhi off with an impatient gesture. “GO!”
The relief when Bodhi finally turns and leaves for the safety of the shuttle nearly sends him to his knees. The root of a nearby tree, hidden underneath a layer of moss, does for real, though. This time, his cry is for everyone to hear. The pain that rips through his thigh too much to hold in, too sudden to keep a lid on or fight back. It knocks the breath out of him, or maybe that’s been the fall. Either way, for a second, the world turns dark and he can’t breathe.
A soft thud rips him back into reality. And as he opens his eyes he finds an arrow buried deep into the soft ground right in front of his nose.
He would’ve never thought that his body would be capable of shooting even more adrenaline into his system, but it certainly does now. Clumsier than he would’ve liked he fumbles for his blaster and rolls onto his back. He shoots the second he sees something move. Scrabbling backwards he fires his blaster again and again, feeling no sympathy for the ones he kills. Not this time.
His hand connects with a tree trunk and he uses it to push himself back onto his feet. The world is spinning for a moment and he needs a second to simply hold onto the tree, catch his breath and blink the dizziness away. Then he goes on. His focus solely on the edge of the forest this time.
Arrows are hissing past him. He thinks one might have graced his arm, but he’s not sure. His whole body hurts by now. His lungs are burning, his breaths harsh and way too fast and still not enough. Not enough. His vision is swimming. Maybe just from the sweat that’s trickling into his eyes. Maybe. But that doesn’t explain the dark spots, right?
His right leg is stiff and clumsy and doesn’t feel like a part of him. He doesn’t want it to be a part of him, if only for the infernal pain to stop. The ground lurches suddenly, or he trips. Or his leg has finally buckled. He falls but crashes against another trunk. His hands cling to the tree on instinct. Everything to keep himself upright, for he knows, if he goes down now, it’s unlikely he’ll get up again. Panting heavily into the rough bark against his face he blinks frantically to banish the dark spots once more. To clear his blurry vision by willpower alone.
It works.
Well, it works somewhat.
There’s a noise. Humming and swooshing.
Before he even knows what’s going on massive energy blasts shoot past him into the forest. One salve, then another. Then it stops. Still startled by the suddenness he stares ahead. Stares at the shuttle in the air, its laser cannons still glowing softly as it turns sideways again to hover right at the edge of the forest. Maybe twenty yards away.
Waiting for him.
He can even hear shouting, if only dimly. It’s Bodhi. Has to be Bodhi.
One last time he pushes himself forward, away from the only support he has and hobbles onwards, hoping that Bodhi’s little demonstration of power has scared the natives off for good. Or at least long enough to make their escape.
His vision tunnels in on the open hatch, visible between two trees right at the edge of the forest. He stumbles, grabs for any tree that crosses his path to cling on to. “You can do this” and “get to Bodhi” are repeating itself over and over in his mind, the only things left to focus on.
He has no idea how he does it, but suddenly his fingers close around metal and next thing he knows he’s lying on the durasteel floor of the shuttle, panting hard. It’s pleasantly cool against the heated skin of his face. He hears the hatch closing behind him and his eyes slide shut as his body trembles from exertion and pain.
There’s a noise that keeps him from drifting off. A constant noise. A voice.
Bodhi. It is Bodhi. Talking to him.
Cassian forces his eyes open. Forces himself to concentrate on Bodhi, but it’s so very hard.
“Get us out of here!” It sounds weak and out of breath. And it’s probably unnecessary, Bodhi will do just that anyway.
With the last remnants of strength and self-control, he clenches his teeth and pushes himself up into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. The interior of the shuttle dims around him, and sways, more than it should.
His right hand fumbles for his leg – where’s his blaster? Shouldn’t there be a blaster in his right hand? Pain spikes as his hand touches the wound. His pants are sticky and wet. And he knows he should do something about it, but his muscles simply won’t move anymore. So instead he closes his eyes.
Bodhi is safe. That’s what counts.
TBC