Ouroboros

Thirteen

Thirteen:

Dropping out of hyperspace, the Millennium Falcon swooped gracefully over a ring of debris and landed on the small moon of Hraxis, orbiting the gas giant of Cusulee. The moon was a rocky almost airless hunk of nothing but Kineva Station was one of those out-of-the way lawless outposts where anything and everything could be purchased-at a price. The Republics-both of them-and the Empire had ignored the outpost, dismissing it as too small to notice and not important enough to waste the effort on so many smugglers congregated in the cramped modules, bathed in violent neon glows, breathing stale-smelling air and eating food and water that had been recycled too many times. There were still some slaves and indentured workers hidden in the backrooms and brothels which no one had ever bothered to release and everyone was viewed with suspicion-and as a mark.

The Falcon hardly looked out of place and was by no means the oldest or most battered freighter to pull up at Kineva but eyes would have noted her arrival. Because eyes noted everything on Kineva and Poe Dameron knew that by the time they had walked along the long connecting tubes to the main station from their distant (and therefore cheaper) docking position, the main players would already be fully aware of their arrival. The only hope he had was that word of Ren's bounties hadn't reached here yet.

Ren had remained deeply unconscious, his breathing shallow and occasionally hitching as he dreamed. And the dreams were horrific to behold, his entire body writhing in anguish, arms warding off shades and screams as if from the pit of hell. And then, just as suddenly as the storm had broken, it would pass and he would lie once more pale and unresponsive. No one knew what to do and only BB8 could offer much in the way of reassurance-that Ren's vitals were still strong, though the little droid could offer no insights to the cause of his illness. Reluctantly, Poe had left the droid with Ren while going out with Finn and Chewie to try to find someone willing and trustworthy to treat the former Supreme Leader.

The passageways were largely deserted and the jarring hum of the air recyclers was louder than would be expected in any civilised outpost. There were spots and smears of orange and green corrosion on the metal plates of the walls with clumsy patches. Finn glanced around.

"Are you sure this place will be able to help?" he asked Poe. "Or even stand long enough for us to get there or back before it falls to pieces?" Shaking his head, Poe kept his eyes fixed on the airlock door ahead.

"Relax," he said with more confidence than he felt. "We're here with the Resistance. I'm sure we'll be able to find someone here to help!" Chewie growled. "Okay-pretty sure," he amended and opened the door.

A riot of colour and noise hit them in the faces, the miasma of scents of cooking foods, oils, human and alien bodies, blood, perfume and ozone wafting in their faces. Chewie gave a moan and shook his head desperately. Finn sighed.

"I get that," he murmured as they moved through into a moderate sized plaza, surrounded by neon-signed brothels, food outlets and shops selling various chemical stimulants. Poe grinned broadly and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Okay, buddy-here we go," he said, plunging into the thronging crowds.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Finn muttered as he followed him.

-o0o-

He was on Starkiller once more, deep in the bowels of the Oscillator and walking with purpose because he was hunting the intruders...and he could sense a familiar presence that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Someone he had thought he had put behind him...a last link to his former life, a man who had disappointed him and rejected him and caused the boy he had been untold hurt and pain. He swept further in the struck out across the gantry to the far side of the enormous space to continue the search,