Shattered Stars (TCW)

Chapter 30 -- Runaways

Deserters! Leaving behind the only lives they've known, Ace and a group of his closest brothers have decided to leave behind the war. Will the engineered men be able to abandon their nature? And will the galaxy allow them to live a life of peace after so much destruction?

Ace looked himself in the mirror. I want to look like myself again. He wasn't sure exactly when he had stopped, but he knew the face that looked back at him wasn't the one that had so nervously greeted Taska on the bridge of that ship all those years ago. His eyes seemed duller, his hair just starting to get a touch of grey in it. The lines on his face were deeper, even though he hardly smiled anymore.

"Not much you can do about that, bud," he muttered to himself. He settled for something within his control and picked up the shaver.

Little by little, the beard he had accidentally let grow in the grief following the loss of his brothers disappeared in the 'fresher garbage deposit. It wasn't much, and he knew it was absolutely foolish to think, but it seemed to take a weight away from him.

When he confronted his reflection again, he could almost see the shiny that couldn't ever have known what the weight of the galaxy really was.

"Yes, sir, CT—ah, Ace, reporting for duty," he quoted to himself in the mirror, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "I'm here for you, sir."

* * *

"We're doing this? Because now is the time," Lark said, shouting over the distant sounds of battle.

"Yeah, I'm just not too sure how I feel about this plan!" A'den shouted back, eyeing the crashed Separatist ship with suspicion.

"Everyone's going to be shooting at us anyway, but they're too busy to notice that it's us, alright? The Republic will think we're droids, and the Separatists are too occupied to scan for lifeforms!" Ace explained again. "We just have to survive this, and we'll be on our way in no time!"

"But we're not shooting at anyone, right? I just want to leave," Chrome asked nervously.

Ace sighed in frustration. "Of course not!"

"Even if you wanted to, you couldn't," Greaser chimed in through the comms. "The weapons system is shot."

"You're sure you're not coming," Lark asked, turning his attention to Greaser.

"Yeah, I just... I don't know any other way. I promise I won't turn you in, though, I get it."

"Thanks for helping, brother," Ace told him, taking a deep breath to focus.

Before long, they were twisting through a space battle, and made it far enough away to launch into hyperspace.

"It's going to be a long ride," Chrome said from the copilot's seat, holding a disembodied droid head. "This could help us navigate, though. Where are we headed again?"

Ace shot a glance to A'den. "Saleucami."

He left the two in the cockpit and went to sit on the thin metal bench next to Lark, who sat staring at the wall with a curious expression.

Ace's mouth was drawn into a thin line as he removed his helmet. After a while, the recycled air of the ship seemed to be giving him a headache.

"What are you thinking, Lark?"

He turned to face his now ex-commander, his brow furrowed. "We're not soldiers anymore."

He drew in a breath. "No, we're not. We're just brothers now."

* * *

A half-hour passed, and Ace sent another pulse to Taska. She didn't answer for a long time, but they were still in hyperspace when she replied.