Baby Sitting

[James Justice]

Location: Ord Mantell
Time: 1 am

James sighed, leaning against the landing struts of his new ship he got on auction an Arbattoir-class the Angel's Memory. The Drunken Angel had gone down in a ball of flames on Naboo while escaping Imperial remnants. James still felt a heavy sense of loss, even though it had been a few weeks ago. He loved that ship. He had grown up on that ship. It was the only thing he had from his father and his father before him. James was going to give it to his son, when he was old enough. Now, all of that would never happen. The Drunken Angel was gone. Never to return.

His mind was snapped into the present. A small group of people were walking down the walkway to his ship on the landing pad. They were trying to look inconspicuous but the spacer knew money from a long ways away, and he could tell by the price they had paid him.

The leader, a man in his fifties easily, was a Hapan noble who only introduced himself as "Scior." The female he was being paid to escort was in her mid-twenties. She was very beautiful, striking even, in a Hapan way. Despite the common clothing she was wearing he could tell she was royal, rich, and very high-bread.

The female, who only went by Delilah, climbed aboard the ship without a word. The security detail fanned out around the ship, watching for trouble.

Scior looked James in his hazel eyes, "I am sure I can trust you to take good care of her."

James nodded and chuckled, blowing a haze of smoke out, "With the cash ye paid me, of course I can."

"You have no idea how important she is," he pressed James, taking a step forward, "You must make sure she makes it there safe and alive at all costs."

James put a firm hand on his employers chest and pushed him back slightly, puffing a thicker, condensed cloud in the man's face. Scion stifled a cough as the smoke got into his lungs and reddened his eyes. James glared at the man, "I dun't like it when people question me abilities, for ten million I can do miracles, ye hear me? This will be so air-tight no one will know what happened, understand? This ship is so generic, I ain't gonna look like nothing getting there. Its a simple matter of getting to Bespin from here, no worries," James waited a second, "Ye understand me, mate?"

Scior nodded, "I apologize, just my niece is all I have left."

James patted his shoulder. The man was a pariah and his family had suffered a great deal of political pursecution as he tried to get his rights back to males on the world. This lovely female was all he had left, even he had been tortured to near death too many times. James smiled, "I understand mate. I give ye my word, she will be safe."

With that, James crossed onto his ship where Reed was waiting.

 

[James Justice]

The Angel's Memory he bought in a squad. It was customized when he purchased it, and it wasn't cheep, but the .5 hyperdrives had been worth it, and in this case, speed was what he needed right now, more than anything. James felt the pilot's chair lovingly--he had an exact replica made of the Drunken Angel's for memory's sake. It had cost a small fortune, but for this spacer, it was worth it. Every tin credit, he had lovingly spent on that chair. It was almost like home again. Almost.

"This be home now," James reminded himself. He could live with that.

He rose and patted the console lovingly before venturing into the living quarters. They were small, but he could live with it. Reed was plugged in, charging. Curled up on the bed, Delilah was looking at one of the durasteel walls listlessly, almost catatonic. Her pale skin was even more flush, he could sense loss emanating from her like a beacon. James could never say no to helping someone who had been through loss. It was his weakness. He had many weaknesses, he realized. Very many.

Reaching under the bunk, James retrieved a bottle of Corellian ale. Taking a drink he plopped himself on the opposite end. Delilah snapped out of her verier and blinked shyly, looking away.

"Ye know," he said offering her the bottle, "I think this be your first time in hyperspace."

Delilah took it with quivering hands and took a gulp, "Only once before."

James nodded, taking it back and swallowing a mouthful, "Ye know, I grew up on a ship. I never had a home proper. I went from planet to planet all the time. Just me and me dad." He handed the bottle back. Alcohol could do many wonders, he thought.

"That sounds like hell," Delilah commented taking another shot and handing the bottle back.

James took his pull and nodded, "I guess it could be. But I saw things most never dreamed of. Worlds, stars, supernovas, I saw a blackhole eat a pair of stars just like that," he snapped his fingers, "I seen races that most consider myths and I has had more than ten fortunes pass through my fingers."

"But your lonely," Delilah said more than asked before taking her turn on the bottle.

James took the ale back and thought for a moment. He knew thousands if not millions of beings. He knew more than the worlds could count. He had hundreds working for him and he had at least a thousand credits for each in his bank account. But he--was---alone. He had few friends, he had few that he could actually count on. He hadn't been in many steady relationships, most he sabotaged and left. He didn't even know if he knew how to have a long-term relationship or a close friend, "Ye right," he said at last and took his swallow, passing it to Delilah.

"So you get drunk?" she asked after taking her gulp, "Is that it? To mask the pain."

Before James realized it he answered, "Yes, all the time, drinking," the spacer grit his teeth, reproaching himself before taking the bottle and making two massive gulps.

He offered the bottle back, Delilah wrapped her hands around his comfortingly, "Its alright. You don't have to hide that way anymore."

 

[James Justice]

James was stunned for a moment. That was a bold move for someone--anyone to make. The spacer swallowed and shook it off, "Miss I dun't think ye understand what ye are saying. I can't just let this go. I seen things that can't be forgotten. Things that can't be erased. I lost people," he swallowed the lump in his throat and gave himself a moment before continuing, "I been carrying pain a long time. Ye can't change that," he felt the compassion rolling off her like waves like the cigarette smoke out of his lips.

The spacer had to admit she was beautiful. Part of him wanted to just fall into his instincts and flirt with her. The woman's deep blue eyes pleaded for him to speak, unload all of his hurts on her, to let him in. A few strands of her black hair teased at her temples, drawing his attention even deeper. James pulled his hands back.

"Ye are my employer, miss, I mind ye to not forget that," he said softly before rising.

"James, when are you going to stop running?" Delilah asked, grabbing his elbow.

He pursed his lips together, her touch was very gently, stirring up agonizing memories, "When the pain stops following me."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James was started awake. He had fallen asleep in the pilot's seat, letting Delilah rest on the only bed. Several of the consoles were blinking, they were coming upon a gravity source that wasn't on the charts. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. The man hastily got his HUD contacts back in before the ship came out of hyperspace. "Fething hell."

The viewport was full of a fleet, a pirate's fleet entailing one inderdicator, two capital ships, and a pair of cruisers. A trio of corvettes were closing in from directly ahead and a series of fighters had already begun to fan out in all directions around the Angel, cutting off the escapes. James fished in his pocket and drew a cigarette, lighting it before firmly gripping the yoke in both hands. This was going to be tight.

 

[James Justice]

The Angel's engines roared to full power as James carved a tight 180-degree turn. The fighters were gunning their engines, already almost cutting his reverse escape off. Jame grinned and slowed down, targeting each one and blasting them into fiery shrapnel--by diverting all their power to the engines, the fighters had left themselves exposed to even minor shots by the Angel's guns.

The last three came head on, activating their shields. James cursed under his breath and made a downward arc, dipping just under their assault. The holographic indications of their locations behind him lit up his contacts. James flipped a switch to auto target and fire, the ship's advanced systems blasted another into a crimson explosion.

As his ship twisted around for a second attack run James heard a thud from behind him and grimaced.

"What the kark is happening?" demanded Delilah from the cabin.

James fired off a second volley from his flak cannon, ripping holes in the second fighter's hull, but it dipped left and down before he could finish the job. Following, James carved in a lazy arc. The rotating Ion cannon on the right wing vaporized the third fighter following the Angel when it couldn't keep up.

"We be in a bit of trouble, try to hunker down," James grunted as he finally obliterated the last fighter.

He looked up and cursed again. While he was taking down the fighters the Corvettes had fanned out, covering everywhere he could hope to go in escape. His HUD flashed, indicated with red lines the entire area their guns covered. He smirked as he throttled the engines, setting his course right for the heart where their fire-patterns overlapped. Reed protested angrily.

"No, this be all we got," he snapped, 'we must go where they dun't expect it."

The Angel began twisting in wild, fanciful turns as James spiraled away from the deadly turbolaser fire. He threaded the eye through two green bolts and ducked barely under a third, throttling the engines to max in time to barely miss a flash and cutting them off for a nanosecond to miss another energy beam. James heard Delilah clattering around in the cabin cursing like a sailor. James grit his teeth as they circled just beyond one of the ship's blaster fire. Reed gave a loud snort.

"Then punch it, now!" James barked.

The stars streaked by into blue lines and once again they were in hyperspace. As the adrenaline slowed in his blood James realized his cigarette had been chewed to a worthless pulp. "Feth."

He tossed the worthless thing away and fished out another.

"What the kark was that?" Delilah said finally from the doorway. He cringed; he could feel as well as hear her rage.

The spacer shot her a winning smile, "Turbulence?"

 

[James Justice]

James watched from the balcony as his Angel was refueled by the mechanized staff. His eyes were shielded by a new set of dark shades and Delilah beside him was dressed in similar tourist garb. Chroma Zed was one of the many hide outs James knew he could always rely on, and right now he needed one badly to resupply the ship and wait for the fleet to pass him by. Any ordinary spacer would have chalked it up to a random pirate excursion. James, however, was no regular spacer and he didn't believe in coincidences. If this girl was worth moving for fifteen million credits, that meant that there was at least one person out there willing to take her down for more. He shot a glance at Delilah. She hadn't said a word since the incident with the fleet and he could feel a mix of fear and anger emanating off her like a smoldering flame. Even without that, his knowledge of women could tell him she was furious. He let out a steady stream of smoke. Oh well. He was her courier not her lover, he could live with that.

She placed her hand on his that rested on the rail. James quirked an eyebrow in compete shock but didn't look over and express it, in case they were being watched.

"Thank you," was all she said, and James could feel--and hear--that she meant it. "I am just--scared. This is all so new to me. You have been here doing these kinds of things all your life, this is only the third planet I have ever been on and it terrifies me. We could have died back there and--well, you saved me, you saved us." she licked her red lips, "thank you."

James shrugged, "It be what I do, miss."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James could feel the tale-tell pull as the Angel began to leave gravitational pull and its own artificial gravity kicked in. He smiled as wisps of smoke played around him adusting to the change. The feeling of gravity change had always tickled in a strange way. Leaving Reed at the controls, James went back to the cabin. Delilah was curled in one of the chairs turning various shades of green with launch sickness. James grimaced; he forgot she was new to all of this. With steady, practiced hands he poured a glass of lum for her. The liquid bubbled and flowed strangely as the gravity was still in flux. Curving, twisting, the stream of white liquid found its way down into the glass. Delilah watched with awestruck eyes, temporarily forgetting how sick she was. James grinned and passed her the glass, "Doctors orders. It be amazing what the grav flux can do, ain't it?"

She nodded and took a sip of the drink, "Very."

A moment later, James felt the ship rumble under his boots, they were in hyperspace again, safe for now.

 

[James Justice]

James let the Lost Angel slowly descend to a small settlement on Bespin called Freedomsburg. It was a quiet, small, out of the way establishment used for mining the gasses of the world. Here a person could hide, get lost, start over, or become someone else. James had a feeling that is what Delilah came here for. He slowly stood up and turned back to the cabin. Her lovely hair had been changed to bright red and her face was mostly covered by a wide-brimmed hat. She looked almost like a goofy tourist instead of a Hapan noble. No small part of him was sad to see the elegance gone. Delilah's eyes were glued to the mirror as she finished preparing herself for the walk into the rest of the world. At last she looked to him, "How do I look?"

He nodded and chuckled, "Ye look worse than ye did."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Delilah groaned taking a shot of ale. "I am not looking forward to this."

James gave her a winning smile, "I know ye hate to be rid of me undeniable charm."

Delilah rolled her eyes, trying to hid her amusement. "Ok, don't push your luck."

He shrugged, reminding himself to keep this professional. It had been an uphill battle the whole time. One he had been sure he would lose. "Well I for sure be sad to be seeing ye go."

Delilah gave a pleased smile, 'Alright, alright you old smoothie, lets get out of here before you say something your gonna regret later."

The pair strolled down onto the landing pad and into the reception area. A droid was waiting for them, to take in registration and IDs.

"My name is Jil'l Rawns," said Delilah presenting an ID chip, "I have a visa, I would like to become a citizen and a secretary."

The droid's photoceptors blinked, "Jil'l, yes we have been waiting for you."

James felt a pang of suspicion in his gut. Something about this wasn't right. He should have grabbed his deathHammer, kark, he never should have left it. Suddenly the blast door behind them closed and a line of grizzled thugs walked in. Delilah's face turned deathly pale, 'What is--"

A thug shot her with a stun round, her body went limp and fell to the floor, James lurched forward to catch her, only to have a second shot blazon him across the chest. Slumping to the ground, the spacer felt pain shoot through is body. "Feth."

 

[James Justice]

"Ugh... Feth," the spacer groaned.

He opened his eyes slowly. It was dimly lit. A few red lights blipped, but he couldn't tell if they were the stars from the stun shot. He had been through worse, shot four times once in the chest by stun shots. He winced. Judging by the headache he had, it had been 24 hours since his last cigarette or alcoholic content. He groaned. This was agony.

"I have been looking a long time, Captain James," said a crystal clear man's voice.

"Wh-who are ye?" James asked groggily.

"You know who I am."

James shook his head and sighed, "What do ye want?" the spacer shifted his weight, only to realize he was suspended by his hands, in shackles. "Turn the lights on."

The voice gave a haughty chuckle, "Oh, Captain, they are on.'

James blinked twice, furrowing his brows, "What do ye mean?"

"Your vision has been removed. Temporarily, I hope."

"H-how, w-why?"

"The side affects of the powerful stun round, I am afraid it removed your vision. The drugs used to sedate you apparently exacerbated the experience," explained the voice in a calm, clear manner. "Why? Well you are a danger. You are a threat. You are a criminal. And as such, you will pay for your sins. Prosecutor will be here soon, don't worry."

"What's Prosecutor?"


"Oh, James, you never were fast," said the man like he was talking to a toddler, "Prosecutor is who not what. And I dare say they have been looking for you quite some time."

A door closed and James felt that he was alone again.

 

[James Justice]

He didn't know how much longer it was before the door opened again. It felt like hours.

He heard metal on metal, in what sounded like droid feet walking on the floor. James' ears pricked. There was only one pair. He heard it slowly, walk to the front of him and stop for a moment before circling behind him.

"Greetings, Captain James Justice," said a synthesized voice.

James jerked his head towards it, "Ye wouldn't fool a blind man by using a synthesizer, would ye?"

"I would let you hear my voice, but you took this from me," replied the synthesized voice. "You took many things form me. You took my legs, my voice, my arm, my eye--my child, my spouse," they paused. "I have waited a very long time for this."

James suppressed a quiver of fear. That was weakness, a strong front was needed right now, "Ye are gonna kill me?"

"Oh, Captain James Justice, when I am done with you, you will wish I would have just killed you," the voice said, continuing its walk around him, "you will beg me, many times for something that sweet. You have forced me to suffer. Now you shall suffer as well."

A current of electricity waved through James in a thick agonizing wave. His muscles contracted and his lips parted but no scream could come out--more sparks danced before his eyes as his suspended body contorted. He already wanted to die.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Breath. That was it. Just breath. Take in the sweet moments. Regain your strength. Fortify your will.

James didn't know how long he had been tortured. Hours? Minutes? He didn't know. His breath came in ragged gasps. He hadn't even been asked any questions. Then the Persecutor left. Without notice, without a word. James didn't know how much longer he had before it came back, every second he needed to get his strength back. Hold out. He would escape, rescue would come, he just had to hold onto hope.

The door opened and James felt himself tense. There, there it was again. Too soon, too soon. But the footsteps, they were different. These were organic, and soft. They were quiet, timid steps. They came to infront of him.

"Hold still," said a soft female voice before James felt an IV being pressed into his bicep.

"Feth, what are ye doing?" he muttered between gasps.

"They want you to be healthy and last a long time. I am nourishing you. Giving you medical aid."

"How do I know ye really are?" he asked, suspicious.

"If they wanted to kill you, they would have done it already."

He nodded, they were clearly right. "What ye giving me?"

"Calories," said the voice before beginning to swab the sweat off his face. "Your body needs them to repair the damage and stay alive."

"Name's James, James Justice."

"I know," she said quietly. "I-I'm sorry for what they are doing to you."

He could feel fear coming from her. "I ain't gonna hurt ye, come on, tell me ye name."

"No, please, don't do that to me," she said pulling the sponge from his face.

James leaned forward as much as the shackles would allow, "I need something to look forward to. Come on, tell me ye name."

"Thallia," she breathed out. "I-I'm Thallia."

The IV was removed from his arm and she was out before he could react.

James let out an exhale. He could make this. He could do this--he had something to look forward to now. Thallia.

 

[James Justice]

The pressure of the water on his body, with the heat, felt like hell. His lungs were full, beyond it. Life was beginning to leave him. At last, death. Blessed death. Release from this agony, release, he released himself into death's blessed fingers.

Suddenly it was over. He was pulled up, out of the water by his wrist bindings. A blow to the stomach sent the water out of his body and he had to gasp for air. Again he was here. Stuck. He had almost escaped but they had beaten him. He was trapped here. The spacer gasped heartily for several moments, getting his bearing back and bracing himself for the pain. He would have time to mourn his failed escape later. For now, he had to re-erect the thin wall that was his will.

Thallia. Look forward to Thallia. That was right, Thallia. He had lost count of the number of torture sessions he had endured now. Time, long ago, had escaped him. Thallia, their few moments, was all he had to look forward to.

"Captain James Justice, we have pushed your body greatly," Persecutor informed him. "You have held up commendably. Your file states that you are an empath. Is that correct?"

James spat defiantly, "I dunno, I ain't read it."

"Empaths feel others emotions, and you have no knowledge of how to control this," continued Persecutor, "now we will break you. We will break you with pain you cannot stop. We will break you with the pain you fear and run from the most."

A massive world of new pain assaulted James. This was nothing like Persecutor had used yet. Heartbreak. Depression. Greif. Heartsickness. Desolation. Misery. In a way he had never felt before, to the greater intensity than he had ever known. The spacer could not run. He could not hide. There were no ways for him to prepare for this. A stiffed sob escaped his lips. His mind went back to Leiglah. He was no longer able to hide this from himself. He had loved her. She was gone now. Their unborn son with her. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Persecutor was right, James wanted to beg for death. James would give anything for the memories of loss to stop.

Then it did. Without a word Persecutor walked out again. A river of tears came from James' eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he moaned, "I should have taken care of ye. Ye never wanted to live on Alderaan. Ye wanted Kuat. I should have listened to ye--I should--I should--I'm sorry. Ye asked to go out that night and I said no. Ye would still be here if I said yes. I'm sorry. I-I-"

His voice broke off in uncontrollable sobs. These were the sobs of the broken.

 

[James Justice]

The door opened again, James' body physically lurched.

"No, please," he whimpered, "you just left, please--"

"Captian, its me," said a soft voice.

"Thallia," James wept softly, relief coming over him. "Thank the gods, your here. He broke me, Thallia, he broke me, I can't. I--"

"You have to keep going, Captain," said Thallia, and he felt a tender hand on his face. "You cannot let him break you. You are still just starting. You must keep on. You must stay strong."

"I can't--I can't."

"She would want you to, Captain," said Thallia. "Remember her. She wanted you to stay strong. To be a better man, didn't she?"

He nodded, swallowing his tears, "Yes. Yes she would."

"She wanted you to find someone afterwards, didn't she?"

"Yes-yes she would have wanted that."

"And you found someone, didn't you? You found Sasha. You have to be strong for your Dark Angel, don't you?"

The tortured spacer regulated his breathing. He could do this. He would find a way. "Yes, your right. I love her. I will see her again."

"That's a good boy," she said warmly. "Remember Sasha. Think of her. Let her bring you strength."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"He has invented a person to keep him strong. A psychological coping mechanism to keep him from loosing himself, fascinating," observed a white haired man from the other side of one-way glass. He had introduced the Persecutor to James. And in fact was the man who spoke to James first. His face, as well as his voice carried a sense of detached, scientific observation. The white light of the torture chamber reflected into the dark room the man was in, making his pale skin appear even more pallid. His weathered face showed nothing more than observation--like it was a lab rat instead of a sentient he was watching talk to himself. "How fascinating. The half-Zeltron has show extreme resilience under the pressure and torture, lasting much longer than anticipated before crumbling. It is anticipated that it will not be too much longer until he falls apart. This is day 63," the man's clear blue eyes glanced at the squat blue droid recording and transcribing everything he was saying.

"You should let me press him harder, Quartermaster," said the Persecutor from the corner in their mechanical voice.

The Quartermaster nodded methodically, waving absentmindedly, "Do not worry, he will break. I understand that this is personal for you, however," he paused, "breaking him slowly is more destructive and positive for us. It also is beneficial to you; causing more pain over time and in the end--when he is dust, it will be more satisfying for you. Trust me on that."

The Persecutor said nothing. Quartermaster shot it another look, "We chose you, never forget that."

Persecutor nodded, "I shall not forget, Quartermaster. Nor have I ever forgotten what you did." From under its hood the red eye glared out: bitterness directed at James--and the Quartermaster's back.

 

[James Justice]

James felt another wave of unstoppable agony flow through his body. He couldn't stand any more, he could feel every ounce of his strength, his reserve, his will being stripped from his grip with every second. The realization that it was happening made it all the worse, the knowledge that he was being destroyed was even more unbearable than the act.

At last he was given a respite and James felt his emotions and his body given a moment of shaking relaxation. But he knew it wasn't over, and the waiting made it all the worse. It was in the moments between the waves of sorrow that the threw at him that he shook with intense pain, almost as bad as the pain they threw at him.

"You think you are in pain now, Captain James Justice?" asked the Prosecutor in a cold voice. "Wait until we find her."

"I--dun't--know--who ye--talkin bout," James panted as sweat poured off his body.

"You cannot play dumb with us, Captain James Justice," said the Prosecutor circling him slowly. "Oh yes, we know of the Dark Angel you have. We are aware of Sasha Voss--her intentions with you are more than business. She is your lover, is she not?"

"I dun't--I dun't--" he tired, but he was too worn to lie.

The Persecutor leaned in close, its synthetic voice undertoned by the raw, scraping death-like scratching of badly scarred vocal chords, "We will find her. We will bring her here. It is only a matter of time. Then the pain you feel--she will feel ten times worse. The woman will be tortured before your very eyes and you will see her suffer. You will feel her suffer. And when it has finally consumed her--then we will kill you. Slowly."

The Persecutor moved from James and began circling again. Rage boiled inside the spacer. Sasha. Sasha. Sasha. His fists clenched tightly as he basked in rage, unadulterated rage. His breath came in heavy snorts as his chest rose and fell, the power of his anger spreading around him, filling the room with electric rage. His muscles tensed--then he snapped.

He felt he could see the room around him--though James knew his eyes were still blind. Though red, he could see the white walls, the dark vortex that was the Persecutor. The walls were like glass to him, but he could see beyond them if he wished, red glass. The Persecutor was moving to a panel in the wall and began punching in it methodically.

With a single movement, James' arms stretched out, snapping the Durasteel cuffs like flimsi. As the Force rolled off him almost tangibly, James felt his feet hit the floor. The Persecutor turned to him, drawing a stun blaster. James waved his arm across his body in a wide swing. The dark form went carreening wildly into one of the sterile walls, James heard sickening crunches before storming towards the door. His fist punched through it, the Force multiplying his strength by the thousands. Using his red-tinted vision, James began storming down the empty halls. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he felt drawn towards--something. He didn't know exactly what, but he would find his way there. Somehow.

[member="Sasha Voss"]

 

[James Justice]

James continued storming his way through the halls of the floating city. His strange red-tinted sight allowed him to make his way along confidently, despite his pysical blindness. Doors that stood in his way were no match, he crushed them with wide swings of his arms. He was surprised partially of how deserted the city was. Then he realized; it was all a sham. This was no city, this was a place to get him lured so he could die. He shook his head. How could he be so foolish. Delilah. The name alone should have been a give away. But he was always a sucker for helping the weak.

He climbed a set of stairs and punched through another door. At last the spacer staggered into the open air for the first time in a few months. It stunned him, forcing James to hesitate before continuing. The he realized it. He was on a landing pad. The Lost Angel had called him. It had brought him to safety. Staggering forward he made his way aboard. It recognized his bio signature and lowered the boarding ramp when he came close. James found his way to the cockpit, as his fingers wrapped around the steering yoke a murmur of doubt went through his mind; was he able to fly blind as well? He shook his head, he didn't have a choice. Besides, he knew this ship blind. He was not a newbie, he could do this. He had punched his way through blockades drunk beyond belief. He could fly blind.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the Lost Angel soared out of atmosphere into orbit, the Quartermaster stood by watching from a window in an office. His arms were folded behind him, his face was covered in its usual expression of dull scientific observation.

The Prosecutor limped in. Its mechanical legs were scraping and clacking, bent out of shape. A trail of blood had soaked its black robes. It stopped just inside the door and waited a moment before speaking, "You should have let me kill him. We could have stopped him."

"Did you think the security forces were here to keep him from escaping?" asked Quartermaster blandly, "Or you?"

The Prosecutor dipped its head, silent.

"He thinks he escaped. That is all good and fine. You remember, Prosecutor, your purpose, I hope?" Quartermaster asked turning to look at his addressee.

"I prosecute the sinners, I make them pay for their sins, I bring justice," it recited.

"Indeed, and the others, you did this to them, did you not?"

"Affirmative."

Quartermaster nodded, "Now you will know the truth. The others, they were always practice. They were never the true reason we came to you. Not at all."

The man took his seat at his desk and began perusing several sheets of filmsi.

Prosecutor waited several minutes, processing this data, "What was, then?"

Quartermaster looked up, "Captain James Justice was the purpose. Now go."

 

[James Justice]

James still couldn't see. It had been--how long? Two weeks. That was--what he felt like. All the time, his strange vision had given him enough sight to make life possible. But still, it was too different to really exist in. He was surviving, it was taking more adjusting than he could do right now. He missed seeing. He missed being able to view the world. Granted, feeling it and seeing it like this was something new, something he was enjoying--to a degree.

He found his way into this back-water Nar Shaddaa clinic. There was almost no chance of it being sterile or up to code. He could feel the remnants of lost hopes, dreams, and suffering. But he had no choice. He needed to go somewhere off the map--he had no idea how far the Persecutor's reach was or if they would kill him in a hospital. He had hoped with all his heart that Sasha was ok. Somehow, she had to be. He couldn't lose her too. The doctor, who smelled more of urqua than he smelt of medical supplies, came and lead James into a shady back office. He could smell the lack of hygiene. He could feel the agony. The doctor gave him a cursory exam.

"You look--fine," said the doctor at last, "I cannot see what is wrong with you, I don't have the equipment," his voice began to trail off, "by all accounts you should be fine--"

James drew his blaster and pressed it against the man's belly, "Tell me why I can't see, then."

The man hesitated, "Perhaps you do not want to see?"

James flicked it on, letting the barrel warm so he could get the message.

"Perhaps you suffered such a traumatic event and now your mind is coping by choosing to shut the visible world out?" the weak man offered in a whimper.

James nodded. It made sense. "How do I fix it?"

The man was silent for several minutes until James pressed his blaster deeper into the man's stomach.

"I-I-I don't know!"

The sound of a blaster shot filled the room and the man's body crumpled to the floor. Shaking his head, James stowed his weapon and found his way onto the streets again. It was time to try a different method then.

 

[James Justice]

James pressed his fingers to his temples. He could hear the lush land around him, see its Force-signature around him. It was harmonious. It was peaceful. It was--beauty. One of the few mountain-lands that were lush and forested on the small planet that Reed had randomly chosen, it was the perfect place to release pain. James had a great need to do that. He need to get his vision back. He needed to see again.

The doctor had said that sometimes a person lost their vision as a coping mechanism. It made sense--he had been tortured for so long he could understand how his mind would want to stop seeing. Or not see the horrors that were given to him. He would have never wished this on his worst enemy--let alone on himself. He pursed his lips and listened to the brook not too far away. It calmed his frazzled nerves. The man took a slow deep breath, drinking it in. He could feel himself shaking, his body succumbing to tremors. Part of the spacer wanted to suppress it, but he could not. He knew it would only make this last longer. The agony he had felt rose up again, making him shake even more as the pain wracked over him. He wanted so badly to ignore it, hide it, or run away.

"No," he muttered, "no, I must--not--run."

The torment took over, filling every fiber of his being. The drowning. The electrocution. The burning. The emotions. The stabbing. The pins. The blows. The bleeding. All of it at once crashed on him. He could feel his will bending, breaking again as tears trailed down his face as it contorted in pain. Sobs escaped his lips. He had endured and he could not forget.

How many times had he tried so hard to do nothing more than forget? He didn't know how to confront his pain--to let it go. All he knew how to do is run from it. He had broken countless hearts trying to forget he had lost Leighlah. He had traveled innumerable light-years trying to run from his father's death. To no avail, it was always there in the end. He had drank endless gallons of alcohol trying to escape his loneliness. Incalculable cigarettes had burned on his lips attempting to whisk himself from the purposelessness he felt inside.

"No," he growled, his will rekindling. "No."

He would not break. He would let it go, he would live again and be born stronger, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. James slammed his fists on his chest, "C'mon! Take me! Take me on!"

With a roar he thrust his palms out, shoving it all away. All his hurt. All his pain. All his agony--his lifetime of purposelessness and loneliness. No more. No more would he run from it. His throat tightened and his chest flexed. Sweat began pouring off his skin as his savage howl grew more guttural. It was nothing more than a primeval proclamation: I am my own. This time the waves of torment went outward--out into the world around him.

Gasping he straitened his back, almost falling back. James swallowed between breaths as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. Did he dare open his eyes? What if it didn't work? There was no way of knowing without trying.

He could--see. The grass around James had been pressed down all around him, as if hurricane force winds had come from him. He had rarely ever seen such a beautiful place. he took deep breaths of the clear beautiful air and looked up, seeing the blue sun, a glowing ring along the horizon in the sky and two moons in the sky. Parked not too far away was a sight that made James genuinely smile. The Lost Angel was ready for him. Waiting as it always had.

Rising, James noticed that his clothes had become tattered. He furrowed his brows. They hadn't been this way when he got dressed. Had--he--done this? He shook his head. He couldn't have. He would think about this later, for now he wanted to find out where he was and board the Lost Angel.

James looked at Reed as he grabbed a new shirt. The battered yellow astromech droid came rolling in and gave him a sassy reprimand. James grinned, "Thank ye, mate, I know I can always count on ye." His eyes lowered for a moment, how many times had the droid saved his life? Countless. How many times had he thanked him? Five times.

Reed gave a spirited beep.

"Thank ye, sincerely, for what ye did for me, mate," the spacer said at last before putting his shirt on at last. "Where are we?" The droid gave a short answer. James blinked twice, "Soceras, eh? Never heard of the place. Let's give the place a look at, eh?"

He felt his body give a shout for alcohol and tobacco. James reached under his bed and grabbed a bottle of Correllian Ale. Popping the lid he too a few mouthfuls. This time, only for enjoyment, running from nothing. He was free. He wasn't running anymore.