The Blockade Runner--Personal Development/Development

[Brent Smith]

Brent could feel his chest tightening, his skin growing sweaty hot. He had to protect his family. He had to save them. He had to stop this. He had to keep them from dying, from suffering like this. Every muscle in his body tensed up with protective love, with a need to save those special to him, it didn't matter what it cost him.

He twisted, his teeth sinking into the meaty hand on his left shoulder. The guard let out a scream, pulling his hand away as blood dripped from the stump of his now removed finger. Brent spat the bloody digit from his lips before the guard to his right had time to react. He twisted left, pointing his toe up and in as hard as he could with a kick that landed right in the man's crotch. The guard behind Brent brought his fist down with a blow that barely missed Brent's face. The agent torqued his body, bringing his other leg up in a pointed toe-kick that landed right in the man's throat.

"What the hell?" the boss shouted as he watched the three men go down in a second.

Brent brought himself up to his feet in one smooth move. With his new found strength flowing through his veins, he snapped the stun cuffs on his wrists, "You should've just killed me."

"Get him," the boss ordered, nodding towards Brent.

The agent dropped back, dodging a hail of blaster fire. More of the guards with force pikes were charging him under their cover. The first came in with a wide swing at Brent's side, the agent blocked the blow, grabbing the man's wrist and spinning with the momentum. His other hand stripped the force pike from his foe as he sent him flying against the far wall. Continuing the spin, he brought the pike in for a jaw-breaking hit against the second. The man dropped the force pike instinctively grabbing his jaw, Brent plucked it from the air in a reverse grip, instantly bringing it up to block another blow.

 

[Brent Smith]

From the other side, two more guards came in with force pikes angled towards his body, Brent shuffled back, both wild swings cut through the air harmlessly, he countered with a cross-slash that knocked both men flat onto the ground. As they fell, the guard Brent had wounded with the groin kick seized him from behind by the neck. A guard with another pike came in with a stab at Brent's face that would have killed him instantly. The agent felt the heat along the side of his face as he barely moved his head out of the way in time, the attack tore through his grappler's face, ending his life instead. The agent stabbed through the other other man's heart, leaving the weapon there.

As the body fell backwards, more blaster fire came in to Brent. The agent grabbed the dead man behind him with his free hand, twisting and letting it absorb the hail of fire. His eye spied the sidearm on the man's belt. He stripped it from the dead guard, giving a volley to the two shooters. Both fell backwards.

Silence covered the room as Brent stood around the dead bodies. He could hear the whimpering of the man he bit to his left. The boss gave a shrug of admiration and a grin, spinning the force pike over his hand again, "You have skills, Agent Smith. I give you that. I've never seen someone kill that many men that quickly." He turned his pike over his hand once more, "But your still outnumbered. I have more men, and I have no problem killing your family if you even point that thing in my direction."

"I know," without looking, Brent angled his blaster at the whimpering man to his left without breaking eye contact with the crimelord. A single shot silenced the man for good. "But you also know you can only kill one before I pull the trigger. And I only came here for them. Is your life really worth that risk or would you rather just run, cut your losses and live to see another day?"

 

[Brent Smith]

The boss mulled the idea over for a moment, running his tongue along his lips slowly, back and forth in thought, "You are right, I don't," he spun the force pike over the back of his hand one last time, catching it with both hands. He shrugged, "Oh well."

With a quick motion, the boss began swinging his weapon downward towards Mara's head with all his might. It all happened so fast, Brent didn't even have time to think. The agent raised his blaster, squeezing the trigger down so fast he didn't even realize it. The red shots rang out, tearing through the man's chest, shoulders and leg but it was all moving too fast, there was too much momentum, the pike couldn't stop. Its tip tore through her cheek, cutting down to the bone and sending the flesh flying through the air. The boss fell back on his throne, the force pike slipped from his limp fingers, clattering the ground, tainted with Mara's blood.

Brent sprinted towards Mara, catching her as the woman feel into his arms. Her eyes were glazed over, the wound across her face had cauterized with the heat on the end of the Force Pike, leaving a massive gash that showed her teeth, gums, and jaw bone. Her lips were moving, but no words were coming out as her eyes glazed over.

"Shh, its ok, its ok," Brent whispered, horror gripping him the first time since it had all started. His trembling hand ran through her soft hair, "Its alright, I got you, I'm going to rescue you. It will be ok, we are going to make it."

"B-brent," she managed at last through her trembling voice.

"Yes, its ok, Mara, I'm here," he said, a tear streaming down his face, "rest, its going to be ok."

What was left of her face formed a content smile, "I-I knew you'd come to rescue us."

Her beautiful eyes closed at last, and Brent could feel her body go limp. A lump formed in Brent's throat that he struggled to swallow down.

 

[Brent Smith]

A blaster shot rang out, missing Brent’s head by an inch, scorching the stone beside him.

“Brent, Brent,” John’s voice rang out through the air, “We gotta go buddy, they are gonna get us.”

But his son was dazed, staring deftly into the face of his lover. More shots rang out around him, scoring the ground and the throne. Each shot send a spray of stone into the air.

“Brent, come on, we gotta go,” Fenn said, grabbing his oldest brother’s shoulder. “We need you, now!”

The agent jolted from his stupor, from the doors more guards had come, they were shooting at him, and his cowering family behind the throne. Their cuffs lay on the floor where they had gotten free from them. Little did Brent or his assailants know that the only thing keeping him from getting shot was the Force itself, protecting him from their attacks.

"Brent, Brent come on," Lesley pleaded, terror struck.

Her son rose to his feet, raising his blaster stoically. He had a job to do, a family to still protect and he wasn't about to let them go down for his mistake. With the accuracy of a trained, stone-cold killer, he picked off each of the shooters where they stood with a single shot to the head. Their bodies dropped rapidly as he methodically worked from right to left. The sole survivor froze in horror, dropping his rifle. But Brent wasn't here to show mercy, he squeezed the trigger and the body fell like the others.

"Come on," Brent said grabbing Mara's body and hoisting it on his shoulder, "Get dad, and stay close to me."

 

[Brent Smith]

His boots clacked down the halls on the stone flooring with a methodical pace. Mara's body on his shoulder was beginning to get heavy but he had trained for times like this, to carry a wounded or dead agent's body across two kilometers if need be. Adrenaline was an effective motivator when lives were on the line. In his wake, Brent left a stream of corpses. It didn't matter if they were armed or not, he wasn't stopping to check. This was shoot first, shoot again, and keep shooting ask questions when your safe back home.

The hall ended in a durasteel door that Brent forced open with a single shot. A private hangar stood before them with a single ship. It was an old design, a classic corvette that had been restored to its original glory ages ago. The hangar was quiet, aside from the gentle sound of water droplets in the distant corner form a leak, and no life was in sight. They didn't have time to stop and ask questions or take second guesses, this could be the Smith family's only lifeline out of here, "Come on."

Brent marched up the loading ramp, his family not far behind. He carefully led them along one of the halls towards the cockpit. A pair of pilots were there looking at their work stations idly. Brent pressed the barrel of his blaster towards each of their temples, firing a single shot before they had a chance to react. He set Mara down on the floor and threw one of the slumped over bodies to the ground as his family watched on horrified.

"We have a positive systems check," Brent said as he tapped on the controls, "Yarr, did you ever get your speeder licence yet?"

The teen licked his lips nervously, "W-well, just my learner's permit."

Brent winced, "It will have to do for now," he pointed at the joystick," See this thing? Its the control stick like the regular airspeeder. Same principles."

"Uh-w-well, I think I can," Yarr stammered.

Brent clutched his brother's coat, bringing his battered face closer, "We don't have time for guessing. This is life and death. I need you to try. Or we all die here and now because I can't do this without you."

He swallowed with fear, "I--I--ok. I can do it."

 

[Brent Smith]

Brent released his brother, "Good, strap in." He pointed to the other station across the room, "Anna, I need you to set dad down there, to monitor the engine levels and all the bays."

"Now that I know I can do," the crippled father said, trying to bring some positivity into the heavy atmosphere as his daughter carried him into the chair.

"Mom, Fenn, I need the two of you to close the door and guard it," he flicked the weapon over to the hands of his mother, offering it handle first, "twice in the chest, once in the head. Don't stop to ask questions."

A shimmer of doubt shone in her eyes as the school teacher took the weapon, she said nothing in reply.

Brent tossed the body out of the other chair, "Anna, when dad is strapped in, I need you to co-pilot for Yarr."

She took a tenative seat beside Yarr squeezing his hand, her split lip offered a consoling smile. Brent looked across the bridge. By the way his family carefully avoided eye contact and tried to not look at him, he could see their fear. He didn't know if they were more scared of him or what was out there. He didn't have time to explain it all, but if they couldn't trust him there was no way they were getting off the ground.

"Look, I know this is terrifying, and I know none of you really have seen this side of me, I try to not let you see this," his eyes moved from family member to family member, almost pleading, but not quite, "But this is what I do. Every day. And I know its scary to see and even scarier to believe but sometimes things like this have to be done to take care of the people we love."

A pause lingered over the room.

"I know son," said John at last, his voice warm with pride but full of regret, "I just wish you didn't have to."

"Let's finish this," Yarr said at last, gripping the joystick with a gulp. "What's first?"

"Initiate the engine warm up sequence," the engines slowly reved to life, Brent could hear them humming faintly and feel the deck vibrating gently under his boots, "Good, now ease up, gently both Yarr and Anna, go slower than you think we need."

He felt a lurch, and grabbed the nearest chair.

"Sorry," Yarr muttered, "Its sensitive."

"Your ok, son," John assured him, 'We are still clear. I'll dial back the engines for now to 75%."

"Good, hold steady on the course you have," Brent ordered. He could see the through the viewport a closed durasteel gate stood before them. He shook his head, "We are going to have to ram it, give it all you've got."

"You sure?"

Brent nodded.

"Full power, Yarr, hit it hard."

 

[Brent Smith]

EPILOGUE ​

​

The scar along Mara's cheek was deep, but at least she had healed, and with time the synth flesh would completely merge in with the rest of her. Brent couldn't help but smile as he moved down the corridor of the hospital closer to her, the Naboo roses in his hands glittering brightly. He had thought he'd lost her, it had taken quite some effort, bacta, a lot of doctor's bills, and 12 hours in the ICU, but Mara was alive. And here she was, sitting up and looking out the window in her hospital room, all but ready to check out.

Brent knocked on the side of the door and she turned, her steely blue eyes settling on him. He stepped in the room, presenting the bouquet like a prize, "Its good to see you up on your feet."

"Hi," she said, her reply icy and cold as deathly winter. She moved to the side of her bed, suddenly finding the wrinkles in the sheet fascinating, "I was just thinking about you."

"I think about you too, all the time," he said with a smile, "The doctor said he could release you as early as tomorrow, I was thinking it might be nice if we--"

"No," she cut him off firmly. Her eyes looked up at him with a stinging frigidity.

Brent felt himself falter for a second, "What?"

"No, Brent," Mara rose to her full height, "I don't even know who you are anymore. Not really. I thought I did, but I was wrong. Your not the type of man I can be with, and your not the type of man I can love."

"But--I," his arm lowered, the bouquet of flowers slipped from his fingers onto the hospital floor, "I told you what I do, I never lied to you. You always knew what I did, and you said it didn't matter and you love me anyway."

"I was wrong, I can't be with a man who puts me in danger like this."

"Is it the job? Then I'll quit, I swear I'll--"

"Shut up!" Mara snapped, squeezing her eyes shut. Her fists balled on the sheets she had been spreading, bunching their white fabric into a wrinkled mess. "I don't want this life. I don't want you, I never want to see you or your family again. Now get out."

"But Mara--"

"I said GET OUT!" she shouted, eyes still closed.

"But I love you," he said softly at last.

"That's the problem," Mara replied, her words laced with venom. Her eyes locked with his, full of hate, "I don't. Now get out."

The man stumbled out of the room, closing the hospital door behind him. He leaned against its cold durasteel form as he felt the life and hope drain out of him. The doctor beside the door cleared his throat nervously, glancing from Brent to his paperwork. All around him the rest of the hospital moved on without a care in the world, telephones rang, nurses and doctors walked by. Loved ones moved past him to see their sick and recovering families.

"I will just take the bills from you then and charge them back to her ," the doctor said at last after a lengthy pause. A hint of sympathy marked his voice.

"Don't," Brent said, pushing off the door onto his own two feet. "Still send them back to me, I don't want her to pay a credit."

"But, its a fortune, you could never pay it off," the doctor objected, "And after she just--well--"

Brent turned, his eyes locking on the man and stopping him amid his fumble, "I know."