You have got to be kidding me - au
You Have Got To Be Kidding Me (more affectionately titled: A Star War AU)
um. Brendon's the nephew of a couple of moisture farmers on a godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere. 6400ish.
warning: don't read this if you are a) not on drugs, b) devoted the finer details in Star Wars, c) opposed to plotholes, d) not on drugs. Seriously, you guys. You guys. Seriously.
A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY. . .
Brendon Urie was young and an indeterminate amount of smart but there was one thing he knew for certain in the universe; he was not meant to be a moisture farmer on this rock of a planet. Brendon liked to build things, sure, liked to use his hands and keep busy (not like that) but he didn’t see the joy in moisture farming. Not like his Uncle Darren.
Uncle Darren did not believe in things that were not moisture farming, with the exception of Aunt Greta, whom he believed in heartily and at every available opportunity. So he didn’t pay much mind to Brendon’s whining, even though he would admit that Brendon was one of the best damn pilots he’d ever seen. “Just like your father,” he’d say, whenever Brendon pulled off a particularly difficult maneuver, flying over the canyons near the farm. But that was all he’d ever say.
Brendon wanted to go to Academy, but his Aunt and Uncle kept him on, season after season. They needed his help. The droids were so unreliable.
Speaking of which. . .
“Brendon, honey, can you get me a translator droid?” Aunt Greta shouted up to Brendon from the courtyard of their home. “Our last one broke and I can’t communicate with the dishwasher.”
“I’ll try!” said Brendon. “There isn’t much up here, but I’ll tell Uncle Darren.”
Brendon was a teenager and thus was opposed to most forms of authority, but he did love his Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren. He just wished they’d let him go to Academy and be a pilot.
“Uncle Darren,” he said, tugging on Uncle Darren’s sleeve, “Uncle Darren, Aunt Greta wants a translator droid.”
Uncle Darren raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like there’s much. We’ll see.” He approached a black-plated, ecstatic-looking droid with weird markings around the eyes. “You a translator?”
“Yes! My name’s Gerard Way, I’m fluent in like, 6 billion languages and most forms of protocol and-”
“Can you help my wife? She’s having trouble communicating with-”
“Dude. Dude, are you kidding me? I can save your life!”
Brendon turned away to cover up his laughter. Even Uncle Darren was smiling. “Alright. Alright, we’ll take you.”
He nodded at the Jawas. “That one and that one.” He pointed to a smaller red unit that looked like a round Swiss army knife. Brendon wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that Gerard’s face fell. The droid raised a hand briefly in parting to the other droids, and then turned and walked back to the house with them.
The smaller red droid exploded just steps away from the house.
“The hell?” demanded Uncle Darren turning to the Jawas. “What are you trying to pull?”
“Excuse me,” Gerard poked Brendon in the back. “Excuse me, but I know that little one. The one with the colored markings? He’s a fine droid. You should get him.”
“I don’t know, he looks like he was owned by hippies.”
“He was. But he’s fully recovered now.”
Brendon shrugged. “Uncle Darren! What about that one?”
“I don’t know,” said Uncle Darren. “He looks like he was owned by hippies. What are all those markings on his legs?”
“I don’t know,” said Brendon, “but Gerard says he’s a good unit.”
“Uh,” said Uncle Darren. “Okay. We’ll take him. Brendon, go get these guys cleaned up.”
Brendon took them down to the shop and set Gerard up with an oil bath. Gerard was delighted.
“It was so dirty, man, you have no idea. All these droids with like, eyes missing or limbs missing. Seriously. It was a nightmare.” He sighed, content with his nightmarish memories. “I’m going to be so clean!”
Brendon sat down and started wiping off the little one with a wet rag. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Frank. I promise, Master Brendon, he’s a great droid. He won’t disappoint you.”
“He’s got something jammed in him.” Brendon pulled out a screwdriver and began poking at Frank. “Really jammed into him.”
“Oh?” said Gerard faintly. “I haven’t the slightest idea. . .”
Frank gurgled.
“What’d he say?”
“If you take the restraining bolt off, you could probably get to it.” Gerard coughed. “I don’t know, man.”
Brendon frowned at Frank. “Well. If you don’t run off. You’re small, I could catch you and beat you up.”
“Oh, don’t,” said Gerard. “He’s nice.”
Frank gurgled happily.
Brendon took off the restraining bolt. Immediately Frank spat out a grainy video of a beautiful girl. “Help, Patrick Stump,” she pleaded, down on one knee. “You’re my only hope.”
“Oh shit,” said Brendon, starstruck. “She’s gorgeous.”
Gerard hummed. “Frank says that that is his former master and that he must find Patrick Stump right away. His master is in terrible trouble and needs Patrick Stump’s help.”
“Master?”
“He says it’s a boy. Are you sure?” Gerard asked Frank. “Really? Well, whatever dude. Looks like a girl to me.”
“Brendon?” Aunt Greta called him. “Dinnertime!”
“Don’t run off,” said Brendon, thoughts twisting around the beautiful boy who needed Patrick Stump’s help, whoever that was. “I’ll be back.”
Frank ran off.
Gerard was displeased that Frank was so quick to shrug off orders. He liked Brendon. Brendon was nice to them.
“Dude,” said Frank. “The Prince is in trouble! I gotta help him out. Patrick Stump is the only one who can help him.”
“I’m not leaving,” said Gerard. “We’ll get in trouble. We only just got out of trouble!”
“See you,” said Frank and he hobbled out. Gerard sat in a corner in the dark.
“He ran off?” said Brendon. “But I told him not to!”
“Frank doesn’t listen to reason,” said Gerard. “He listens to his heart.”
“I did that once,” said Brendon. “And then my uncle yelled at me. Seriously, droids aren’t supposed to do that.”
“Frank is special.”
Brendon considered this.
“Very special,” added Gerard.
“How close are you?”
“We’re just friends, he’s just a dude, you know how it is, you know? It’s a statement.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to bed.”
“We’re not going to save Frank?”
“It’s too dark out,” said Brendon. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll protect you from the dark.”
Brendon smiled at that, but fell asleep in the shop anyway. Gerard sang him to sleep.
In the morning they went to find Frank. They found him far out in the desert and caught in a sand dune. A short man was trying to dig him out.
“You idiot,” said Gerard fondly. Brendon lifted him out of the speeder and he hobbled over to Frank. “We were worried sick!”
Brendon started to dig Frank out. “Thanks for helping, Patrick,” he said. “My droid here is special.”
“Very special,” said the man. “So hey, what’s he doing out here?”
“He ran away,” Brendon explained. “Trying to find some dude named Patrick Stump.”
“I’m Patrick Stump,” said Patrick. “You know me!”
“I thought maybe he meant a different Patrick Stump.”
“What’s a droid want to find me for? I don’t use them.”
“He has a message. This hot prince wants your help.” Brendon mimicked the voice, a monotone he could barely achieve. “‘Help me, Patrick Stump! You’re my only hope!’ He was seriously beautiful.”
“Oh yeah?” said Patrick. “Pull him out.”
They hefted Frank out of the hole he’d fallen into. Frank gurgled at them in thanks. Then he buzzed and projected the picture of the prince on Gerard’s groin, the highest flat surface he could reach.
“General Stump,” began the prince, looking hot as all motherfuck. “Years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars. . .”
Brendon put a hand on his forehead. He could help serve the prince!
“. . .my ship has fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring these maps of the Emperor’s battle station to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the Republic in Frank here. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see that it is delivered to him. This is our most desperate hour.”
The prince did indeed look desperate. His soft brown hair was falling into his face and it made Brendon’s stomach go funny. He wanted to help the prince.
“Help me, Patrick Stump,” pleaded the young prince. “You’re my only hope.” The transmission cut short.
“That tickled,” said Gerard.
“We must go to Alderaan at once,” said Patrick. “Brendon, you come with me. The Emperor’s soldiers are going to be looking for you, especially since you’re the owner of these very important droids.”
“Very important,” whispered Gerard to Frank.
“You’ll be safest with me. I’m a Jedi.”
“No way!” Brendon didn’t believe in the Jedi. His Uncle Darren had always said they were a myth, a dead religion.
“I have a lightsaber.” Patrick grinned. “I have your father’s too.”
Brendon stopped short. “You knew my dad?”
“He was a good friend of mine, before he was killed by Lord Pancho. For real Brendon, come with me. We can go save the prince together.”
“I want to save the prince!” Brendon really, really wanted to save the prince. Something about him was so familiar and wonderful and home-y; he really, really wanted to save him. “I better go tell Uncle Darren.”
“We don’t have time.” He put a hand on Brendon’s sleeve. “It’s dangerous, the Emperor will doubtlessly be looking for these droids.” He bit his lip. “Brendon, we have to leave immediately.”
“I’m a responsible boy,” said Brendon as he climbed back into his speeder. “Aunt Greta says that’s the only other thing I have going for me, besides my uncanny ability to fly and shoot stuff. Don’t worry. I’ll come right back.”
Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren had been killed. The farm was on fire. The uniform steps of the stormtroopers were everywhere in the sand around the farm. And Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren had been killed.
Brendon turned away. He went back to Patrick.
They flew into Mos Eisley. Brendon only ever came to Mos Eisley at night to go clubbing with his friends. Seeing it in the daytime was different, although it was still one of the more unpleasant places on Brendon’s home planet. Brendon was glad he had a real, live Jedi that would protect him.
The port was crawling with more stormtroopers than usual and it was impossible to avoid being questioned. However, Patrick made no attempt to evade them and stopped the speeder as soon as he was flagged down.
“Can I see some id for your droids?” said one of the stormtroopers. “We’re looking for some units that are in possession of top-secret information that could bring down the Republic.”
“Oh,” said Patrick, grinning at the stormtroopers winningly. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”
“These aren’t the droids we’re looking for,” repeated the stormtrooper. “Move along.”
“Sweet,” said Patrick. Brendon turned around to watch the stormtrooper. He was shaking his head, looking a little starstruck.
“Here.” Patrick stopped the speeder in front of a grimy, unimaginative cantina. “This place will be filled the kind of douches that’ll take us across the galaxy, no questions asked.”
“I’m underage,” Brendon reminded him.
Patrick put a hand on Brendon’s arm, shaking his head. “It’s all about the strut. Walk with me.”
They walked into the cantina. Frank and Gerard stayed outside. Frank suntanned. Gerard stood in the shadows, fretting that the sun would fry his wires.
“We won’t be long,” said Brendon. “If a stormtrooper comes, kick him in the balls.”
“That’s very rude,” said Gerard.
“They want to kill the prince, that’s ruder. Think of it as a statement.”
The cantina was dark and seedy. A band was playing crap Fall Out Boy covers in the corner. Patrick shaded his eyes against the dim light. “That man,” he said, pointing to a tall man with his legs propped on the table. The man stared at them, his upper lip curling. “That’s the man we want. He’s just the right amount of stupid and sleazy. He’ll take us where we want to go.”
Brendon was much more taken by his gentlemen friend, a great, hulking, hairy beast of a man, with limbs like tentacles and the most unpleasant expression. He was a little afraid. But he trusted Patrick. They sat down at the table across from the man and his friend.
“We need to get to Alderaan,” said Patrick, “can you get us there?”
“I don’t know,” said the man, taking his feet off the table and leaning close to them. “Port’s closed, the Empire’s all up on everyone’s asses. No one’s getting in or coming out. It’d take a lot to convince me.”
“Anything you can imagine,” said Patrick, waving a hand, “if you get us to our destination without incident. We need to get there as quickly as possible, though.”
“I can imagine quite a bit,” said the man. He put his arms behind his head. “Why do you want to go to Alderaan?”
“We have our reasons,” said Patrick. “You just worry about getting there.”
“Secrecy costs more,” threatened the man.
“Anything you can imagine,” said Patrick again.
The cantina roared around them with illicit substances and broken-hearted affairs. Glass shattered in the background. Instruments swung off-key with the sounds of an aching universe.
“I’m Travis McCoy, this’s William,” said the man finally. “William likes you, so we’re going take you to Alderaan.”
The long limbed creature grinned at them with all his teeth. Brendon felt very unsettled. He slouched closer to Patrick. Patrick nodded at him, a small reassurance.
“Prince Spencer,” said Darth Pancho. “So good of you to join us.”
“Darth Pancho,” said Spencer, nodding and raising his cuffed hands in a mock salute. “I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board. When was the last time you showered?”
“Oh, ages ago,” said Darth Pancho. “Being evil, you know. It’s such a fast-paced lifestyle, things like personal hygiene get put aside.”
“Bullshit,” said Spencer. “You think trying to take down your oppressive regime is easy? I still have time to wash up.”
“Whatever,” said Darth Pancho. “The metal suit makes it a little hard, you know? Don’t hate. Sooo, hey. Where’s your little Rebel base?”
“Fuck off.”
Darth Pancho looked at him. “You got balls, I’ll give you that.” He strode over to the window in front of them and pointed at the planet in front of them. “See that? That’s your home planet. Alderaan. What a lovely, peaceful planet. And we have big, planet exploding guns pointed at it. This Death Star can blow it to a billion tiny pieces if I say so.”
He turned back to Spencer. Spencer was shaking, his face pale.
“Where’s your Rebel base?”
“Dantooine,” said Spencer instantly.“Dantooine, it’s on Dantooine, I swear.”
“Awesome,” said Darth Pancho. “Fire when ready, commander.”
“What?” said Spencer, looking frantic. “What? No!”
Alderaan exploded in fire and became several billion pieces of rock. The Prince put his face in his hands.
“Oh,” said Patrick, clutching his chest. “Fuck. My heart.”
“Are you alright?”
“I felt a disturbance in the force,” he said. “That’s weird. I haven’t felt such a sudden silence in years.”
“Tell me about my dad,” said Brendon, sliding closer to Patrick on the bench. They were sitting in the main cabin of Travis’s ship. They’d started out in the cockpit, but William growled at them and Travis kicked them out. “He needs his space,” Travis explained, closing the door behind them.
“What do you want to know?” asked Patrick.
“Everything,” said Brendon. “Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren never talk - never talked - about him.”
“He was a good man,” said Patrick. “A very good man. One of the most amazing Jedi I knew. The force was stronger in him then anyone I’d ever known.”
“What happened to my dad?”
“He was murdered by Lord Pancho, the emperor’s right-hand man.” Patrick’s face twisted. “An evil man, but a worthy adversary. But evil. Most evil fuckin’ guy I ever met.”
“Oh.”
Patrick nodded. “Dude’s a king douche. But your father was a good man. I saved his lightsaber for you. He’d have wanted you to have it. He always believed you’d be a good Jedi. Said the force would be stronger in you than in him. I’d believe it.”
“Really?” Brendon had never had anything strong in him before. Especially not a personality trait. Well, except for his overwhelming sense of responsibility and his uncanny ability to fly stuff and shoot stuff.
“Try it, here.” Patrick pulled the lightsaber out and handed it to him.
“It’s heavy.”
“It’s a deadly weapon, of course it’s heavy.” Patrick stood up and pulled Brendon to his feet. “Try it.”
Brendon turned it on. “Oh god,” he breathed, wielding it. “Oh god, oh god. Patrick. It’s beautiful.”
“Fuck yes,” said Patrick. He patted Brendon on the shoulder. “Frankie! Give Brendon something to practice with.”
Frank vibrated, his whole body shifting with glee. Then he threw a knife at Brendon.
“Oh shit!” shouted Brendon. He swung the lightsaber out. The knife flew past him and clattered on the floor.
“Missed!” said Gerard. “Both of you.” He was grinning.
“Again,” said Patrick. “Again, Frank.”
Frank threw another knife at Brendon. Brendon yelped and jumped.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Come here.” Patrick tied a blindfold over Brendon’s eyes. “Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts.”
Brendon waited. There was a sharp whistling sound and he swung forward. The lightsaber hissed and there was the clang of pieces of the knife falling to the floor. Frank groaned.
“I got it,” Brendon pulled the blindfold off. “Patrick, I got it!”
“Well done,” said Patrick. “Keep practicing.”
Frank threw another knife at Brendon. Brendon sliced it cleanly in half without looking at it. “Awesome, dude,” said Patrick. “You’ve got it.”
Travis wandered in, looking more disheveled then he had when they’d left the cockpit. “Hey man, if you fuck up this ship, I will drop you off right here.”
“No, dude,” said Patrick, scooting over so there was room for Travis on the bench. “I’m educating Brendon in the ways of the force.”
“You believe in that witchery?” Travis sat down, throwing an arm across the bench behind Patrick. “Man, that shit is unreal.”
Frank threw another knife, this time at Brendon’s feet. Brendon jumped up, but still managed cut the knife down.
“It’s not witchery,” said Patrick. “It’s a living energy that controls your destiny. But,” he said to Brendon, “you control it, too.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Travis. “No unseen living energy controls my destiny.”
There was a groan from the cockpit. Travis was on his feet in an instant. “What’s going on, Billy?” he said. “What- what?”
Patrick and Brendon rushed into the cockpit. Travis was already scrambling for the ship’s controls. “There’s not supposed to be an asteroid field here!” Travis said. “Bill, where the hell are we?”
William barked at him, indistinct, as he curled up into his co-pilot seat. Travis flung himself on to the steering. “I don’t know! How could a whole planet disappear? There’s supposed to be a planet here! Alderaan, Billy. What the hell?”
“Oh,” said Patrick sitting down heavily in one of the back chairs. “That was a planet.”
“That was a. . .no. No! That’s impossible!” Travis turned around, staring at Patrick in horror. “That’s impossible.”
“What’s that?” said Brendon.
“What’s what? Shut up, kid. We’re missing a planet here.”
“No, that,” said Brendon pointing. “It looks like a small moon!”
“There can’t be a moon if there’s no- what the hell?”
It was not a small moon. It was a very large space station.
“That,” said Patrick. “That’s possible.”
“Oh fuck,” said Travis. “Bill, we gotta get the fuck out of here.”
The ship jolted. There was an electrical crash from the back and Frank buzzed at them.
“We’ve been locked onto their tractor beam,” said Travis, his face twisting in anger. “They’ve got us.”
They hid in a couple of secret compartments in the floor while stormtroopers searched the ship overhead. Brendon fidgeted. Small enclosed spaces with guys who were taller then him made him nervous.
“Shh,” said Travis. Footsteps echoed overhead, paused, then continued off the ship.
Travis reached up and shoved the metal plating off from over them. Brendon looked up. Patrick was climbing out of his hole. “We’ve got to get of here.”
“No shit.”
“I’ll disable the shields,” said Patrick. “You three save the Prince.”
“The Prince?” Brendon crawled out of the compartment. Actually, Travis pulled him out by the back of his shirt. “The Prince is here?”
“Yes,” said Patrick. “I can feel him. He’s very distressed.”
“What Prince?” said Travis, as he grabbed William’s arms and pulled him out. “Who said anything about saving a Prince?”
“The Prince!” said Brendon. “He’s so beautiful. He got taken by the Empire and now we have to get him back.”
“What for?” said Travis, slinging an arm around William. “I’m happy with what I got.”
“With the Prince lies your reward,” said Patrick, shrugging. “But you can hang out here, if you want. Whatever.”
Travis jumped to his feet. “Let’s go get him.”
Through the cunning use of baseball bats, they managed to steal some stormtrooper outfits and sneak into a control room with the droids and Patrick.
“You’re so short,” said Travis, laughing down at Brendon.
“Yeah, well,” said Brendon. “I bet I’m a better shot then you.”
“We’ll meet back here,” said Patrick. “I’ll turn off the tractor field and you go get the boy. Frank and Gerard, you stay here.”
“Yes sir.” Brendon saluted him. Patrick disappeared. “Hey, Frank,” said Brendon. “Where is he? Where’s the Prince?”
Frank plugged into the main computer and gurgled. “Frank says he’s on the sixth floor,” translated Gerard. “In a regular holding cell. It should be fairly easy to get to him.”
“Okay,” said Brendon. “Travis, handcuff William and let’s go get him.”
William groaned.
Getting up to the cell block was easy. Getting in was less so. Travis grew impatient of the constant questioning and started shooting up the place.
“I hate people who ask unnecessary questions,” he said, as the last man crumpled. “Brendon, go get the boy. This place is gonna be flooded stormtroopers soon.”
Brendon ran down to the hallway and opened the Prince’s cell door. He jumped inside, with every intention of making a dashing first impression, but he stopped. His breath was caught in his throat and he took at a step back. The Prince was just sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You’re a little short for a stormtrooper,” he said, yawning. He was beautiful.
“What?” said Brendon. “Oh, the uniform.” He took his helmet off. “We’re here to rescue you!”
“We’re?” The Prince did not look convinced.
“Me and Travis and William. Come on, we’re here to rescue you. Come on!”
He grabbed the Prince’s hand. Travis ran down the cell block. “Brendon!” he shouted. “Brendon, get your boy and go, we’ve got company!”
There was a lot of shooting outside the Prince’s cell.
“Your rescue mission sucks,” observed the Prince. Travis glared at him.
“My apologies, sweetheart. We didn’t have to come get you.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow.
More stormtroopers rushed into the control room at the end of the cellblock. Travis and Brendon shot at them with little luck. William ran out of ammo and threw his gun at the soldiers, knocking one of them over.
“You three are horrible shots,” said the Prince. “Give me that.” He took Brendon’s gun, shot a stormtrooper and then shot a hole in a grate on the floor. “Let’s go.”
“What?”
“Come on, I’m getting us out of here.” He jumped in. Brendon followed. Travis sighed. “William, is it really worth it?”
William growled.
Travis pushed him in the grate, took a few more shots, and jumped down the chute. He landed at Brendon’s side on a pile of bananas and rusted metal. In the garbage disposal.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
William grumbled at him.
Brendon was shouting into his link with Gerard and Frank. “Gerard? Gerard, can you get us out of here? We’re in the garbage disposal. The door’s locked from the inside.”
The walls shifted and creaked and began move closer together.
“Oh no,” said Travis shaking his head. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Come on,” said the Prince. “Help me prop up the walls.”
“This was a great idea,” said Travis as he helped the Prince brace trash against the walls. “Oh, just perfect.”
“Like your plan of shooting everything in sight was working?” said the Prince. “God.”
“We’re going to die in here,” said Travis.
“We’re going to live,” said the Prince, and the determination on his face scared Travis into lifting a metal bar against the wall.
Still. The walls moved closer “Sugar, I’m not so sure about our chances in here.”
“Please,” said the young man, pausing to put his hands on his hips. “My name is Spencer. Use a term of endearment to belittle my power again and I will punch you in the head.”
Travis raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Thank you,” said Spencer. He smiled. It took everything Travis had not to clutch his chest for the burn in his heart. Brendon was right. The man was beautiful.
Brendon was still shouting. “Gerard, Gerard! Gerard, help us!”
The men and William started climbing up the walls as the trash piled up underfoot.
Gerard’s voice cracked over the link. “Brendon, man, are you alright?”
“Shut down the garbage disposal! We’re all going to die!”
“What?”
“Stop asking me questions!” shouted Brendon. “Just shut down the garbage disposal!”
“Hang on dog, I’m gonna get you out of there!”
Gerard hit Frank on the head. “Shut down the garbage disposal, you idiot! They’re all going to die!”
Frank giggled.
Just as Brendon felt the sludge creep up waist-deep, the walls stopped moving.
“I told you!” said Gerard’s jubilant voice. “I told you I’d save your life!”
Brendon sagged against the wall of the garbage disposal. Spencer and Travis hugged.
The garbage disposal was easy compared to this.
“Oh fuck,” said Brendon, looking down at the deep and cavernous electrical chasm that stood between him and Spencer, and the way back to the ship. “I think I blasted the controls for the walkway.”
“Huh,” said Spencer. There was a lot of banging from the other side of the door. Banging and shooting. He peered down at the chasm, nose crinkling.
“Well. Okay. Come on.” He grabbed a clip off of Brendon’s belt. A very small, but very strong metal coil that his Uncle Darren had given to him years ago. He’d forgotten about it.
Spencer flung one end of the coil up. It caught on a beam. Spencer grinned. “Ready, Brendon?”
Brendon grabbed hold of the coil. Spencer grabbed hold of him.
“Kiss for good luck?” said Brendon hopefully.
“Shut up,” Spencer said. “Jump.” He hugged Brendon a little bit tighter. Brendon closed his eyes and jumped.
They landed on the other side, just as the stormtroopers managed to get the door open behind them. Brendon grabbed Spencer’s hand and they ran.
They met up with Travis and William, who’d split off to draw attention away from the Prince. Travis had developed a weird sense of protectiveness when it came to Spencer and he grabbed Spencer’s shoulder as soon as Spencer came near. “You alright?” he said. “Let’s get back to the ship.”
Frank and Gerard waved from the dock of the ship.
“Patrick,” said Brendon. “Patrick, where’s Patrick?”
“Patrick Stump,” said Spencer, grabbing Brendon’s arm. “Patrick Stump’s here?”
“Shit,” said Travis, pointing.
Patrick wasn’t really ready to die, but he accepted the fact that it would come, had come, for him, and if it meant that those crazy kids got the hell out of dodge, then he was prepared. His future had come and past. It was their turn now.
“Pancho,” he said, swinging under Pancho’s lightsaber and stepping backwards into the docking bay. “You haven’t changed.”
“You haven’t either,” said Pancho. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
“I haven’t,” said Patrick, although this was a lie. He jump forward, lightsaber swinging. “You’re not the man I used to know.”
“You said I hadn’t changed!” Pancho sounded sad.
“There’s a difference,” said Patrick. “You know what I mean.”
“Patrick!” shouted Brendon from across the hanger. “Patrick, come on!”
Pancho and Patrick turned. “Oh Brendon,” said Patrick, sighing.
Pancho looked at him, startled. “Bren-”
Patrick swung at him. Pancho deflected.
“Patrick!”
Pancho laughed. “He’s all grown up!”
Patrick shook his head. “No, Pancho.” He held up his lightsaber, looking Pancho dead in the eye. He smiled.
Pancho cut him cleanly in half. Patrick disappeared and his clothes dropped to the floor.
“No!” screamed Brendon. “No, no. Patrick!”
“Brendon, we’ve got to go!” shouted Spencer.
“Patrick!” Brendon picked up a gun and began shooting at the stormtroopers, at Pancho, at the walls of space station. Patrick. Patrick couldn’t be dead.
“Brendon, my friend,” said William, “you have to let go.” He knocked the gun out of Brendon’s hands and hefted him over his shoulder. He ran back aboard the ship and collapsed with Brendon on the floor. As the main doors slid shut and the ship took off, Brendon thought he saw Pancho standing motionless in the hanger bay, just watching and waiting.
Brendon was moping in the main room of Travis’s ship as they flew out of the space station. Spencer put an arm around him. “Are you alright?”
Brendon looked at Spencer. He shook his head.
Travis came running out of the cockpit. “Brendon, we’ve got company, get your ass over here!”
Brendon followed Travis up into the gun turrets. Spencer ran to sit in the co-pilot’s seat next to William. William growled, pointing into the universe around them. Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I see them. Guys,” he lifted his voice. “Guys, we got three fighter pilots on us! Guys?”
“Loud and clear, sweetheart,” Travis shouted back. “Keep us posted.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “How the hell do you put up with him?” he asked William. William shrugged.
Brendon had never really shot anything before. He’d shot dead droids and rats down on Tatooine and okay yeah, the droids weren’t moving, but he’d never missed a rat before, but. But. But the rats weren’t threatening his life, and Spencer’s life, and Travis’s and William’s and Gerard’s and Frank’s lives. No one was depending on his superior shooting skills to live. He froze.
“Don’t over think it, kid!” Travis shouted down to him. “Just shoot!”
“Feel, don’t think,” Patrick echoed in Brendon’s memory. “Use your instincts.”
“Yes sir,” said Brendon. He watched for the fighters and shot. It was easier than shooting rats. The rats were smaller and faster.
“I got one!” he said. “Hey- I got one!”
“Nice,” said Travis. “But there’s two more left.”
Between then two of them, they cleaned up the enemy fighters and the threat was gone. Down in the cockpit, Spencer smiled. “They’re not so bad, are they?”
William shook his head, looking proud.
“Yeah,” said Spencer. “Yeah.”
William hugged him.
The flight back to the hidden Rebel base was an uneventful one. Spencer and William played poker. Travis threw knifes at Brendon for Brendon to practice on. Gerard sang some soft background music. Frank provided the percussion.
Brendon thought that maybe, maybe, this was the space life that he’d been waiting for.
Spencer dragged Brendon off to a briefing for the pilots who were out to destroy the Death Star. “You two can come,” he said to Travis and William, “if you like. I know you’re only here because you got paid.”
Travis stared at him. Spencer cocked his hips, tapping his fingers on his thighs. Travis swallowed.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Travis. “We’ll come, sure.”
They stood in the back.
Their commander was a man named Tyson. When he smiled, he looked completely out of control. It was an infectious wildness; everyone in the Rebel base was filled with a renewed desire to fight and win. “Thanks to the maps the prince managed to retrieve for us,” said Tyson with a nod at Spencer, “we’ve got a good reading one what you kids are up against. The station is designed and armed against an attack of a large scale. Guys,” he said, looking around at them. “We don’t have a large-scale attack. We’ve got you in your fighters and that’s all we need. But we don’t have much time before the Death Star is in firing range of the planet and we all get cooked. Your target area is only two meters wide and you’ve only got one shot with the torpedoes. So make that shot count.” He paused, looking out at his fighters. He looked to be in tears with sincerity. “I want you all to come home alive.”
“Two meters,” said one of the nervous recruits. “That’s insane. We’ll never make that.”
“No way,” said Brendon. “Back home I used to shoot rats on the farm and those were much smaller then two meters.” He grinned at the recruit.
The recruit smiled back. “Yeah?”
Brendon smiled. “Yeah, for sure.”
The Death Star wasn’t as threatening from the outside, from behind the cockpit of his own fighter. Or that was what Brendon kept telling himself.
Spencer had given him a kiss for good luck right before he left. Brendon had decided at that moment that he was coming back, no matter what.
“Frankie,” he said over his intercom. Frank was in back, monitoring the ship, and Brendon was incredibly grateful to have him. There was no one better. “Frank, we’re coming back alive.”
Frank was quick to agree.
He floated on down through space, surrounded by the rest of the fleet. It was easy. It was easy, just like he was at home again. Brendon thought he might like to be a fighter pilot with the Rebellion for the rest of his life.
It wasn’t as easy for anyone else, Brendon found himself increasingly having to pull out to help his fellow fighters out.
“Brendon,” his link crackled, Tyson in his ear. “Brendon, you’ve got a space. Go for the target.”
Down on the Death Star, Darth Pancho was troubled. Something in the force was disturbing him, nagging at his thoughts. It was annoying. And Darth Pancho did not do well when he was annoyed.
“Ready my ship,” he said to the nearest lackey scurrying about. “I’m going to get rid of these Rebel assholes myself.”
Spencer watched Travis load up his reward on to his ship. “You selfish bastard.”
“Look man,” said Travis. “I’m not in this for your revolution. I got what I came for and I’m out. I got other jobs in other places.”
“Yeah?” said Spencer, putting his hands on his hips. He was frowning. “A job. Is that all this is?”
“Yeah,” said Travis. “Yeah, that’s all.” But once again, he found himself unable to stop staring at Spencer.
“I hope your next job is under the employ of the Empire,” said Spencer. He took a step towards Travis. “And I know you’ll be very happy there.”
Travis stepped closer to Spencer. “I am not a bad man,” he said evenly. “But this is not my fight.”
Spencer stepped even closer. The two men were now nose to nose. “Then what is?”
Tyson shouted out from the control room. “Spencer? Brendon’s going in.”
Spencer turned and ran back to the control room to Tyson.
“Shit,” said Travis. He shook his head and walked back onto his plane.
Brendon was flying as well he could, but he couldn’t shake this enemy fighter. “Somebody get this guy off me!” he shouted. “I’m not gonna make it!”
He was so close to the target too. So close. Frank buzzed behind him, worried.
“The force is unusually strong in this one,” murmured Darth Pancho. “Little jerk.” He shot at Brendon. He missed, but damaged the droid in back.
“Guys!” shouted Brendon. “Guys, I need some back up! Frank’s down, I need backup!”
“Tyson,” said Spencer. “Tyson, Brendon is so close. Where are the rest of our people?”
“Too far out,” said Tyson. He yelled down the comm link to the fighters. “Somebody go help Brendon!”
“Commander!” shouted Brendon helplessly, as he dodged the enemy fire. He couldn’t shake this guy! “I’m not gonna make it if I stay down here, I have to pull out.”
There was a shout over the intercom. “Shit kid, why are you giving up so fast?”
Travis shot at the enemy fighter planes. One exploded. The other spun out of control into space.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” said Darth Pancho as he drifted into space. “No fuckin’ way.”
Brendon shot the target; direct hit. He pulled up and out as Tyson screamed down the intercom for everyone to get back home.
The Death Star exploded just as the last Rebel fighter flew out of range. Brendon looked back at the explosion, a mess of fire and light. He felt good.
“You did it!” shouted Spencer when Brendon pulled into the hanger bay and got out of his cockpit. Brendon jumped off the ladder and flung his arms around Spencer. “I did it!”
Travis cleared his throat. He stood behind Spencer, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, you did good, kid.”
Brendon hugged him too and pulled back when William made a growly noise. Spencer grinned at Travis. “You came back,” he said. “I knew you’d come back.”
Travis spread his arms. “Yeah, well.”
They smiled at each other. William swatted Travis on the arm and Travis gave William a hug.
Brendon put an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. He knew he’d come back alive.
In the background, he heard Gerard fussing over Frank, who was smoking a little as he was pulled out of Brendon’s ship. “Frankie, how the fuck do you do it, man,” he exclaimed. “Everywhere we go, you always get in trouble.”
Frank gurgled at him, a cheerful, if weak, mechanical noise.
“Dude, someday, I’m not gonna fix you.” Gerard was already wiping the grease off of Frank’s shell. “I. . .seriously. Someday.”
Frank spat at him, whining.
“Fuck you, I’ll always be there to clean you up,” said Gerard. “I’m just not gonna do it.” He sighed, a long dramatic sound that made Brendon smile. “Master Brendon, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take him to the mechanic’s. Frank needs help and I do not have to tools to sort this out.”
“Yes,” said Brendon, leaning his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer tightened his grip on him. “Go ahead.”
Gerard beamed.
01. Happy Birthday hatoyona and ratherblank! This is not your only present, but it is the one that will not cause you a storage problem. Both of you!
02. If you're worried, continue. Oh yes. Next time, Gabe Saporta stars as Lando Calrissian.
um. Brendon's the nephew of a couple of moisture farmers on a godforsaken rock in the middle of nowhere. 6400ish.
warning: don't read this if you are a) not on drugs, b) devoted the finer details in Star Wars, c) opposed to plotholes, d) not on drugs. Seriously, you guys. You guys. Seriously.
A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY. . .
Brendon Urie was young and an indeterminate amount of smart but there was one thing he knew for certain in the universe; he was not meant to be a moisture farmer on this rock of a planet. Brendon liked to build things, sure, liked to use his hands and keep busy (not like that) but he didn’t see the joy in moisture farming. Not like his Uncle Darren.
Uncle Darren did not believe in things that were not moisture farming, with the exception of Aunt Greta, whom he believed in heartily and at every available opportunity. So he didn’t pay much mind to Brendon’s whining, even though he would admit that Brendon was one of the best damn pilots he’d ever seen. “Just like your father,” he’d say, whenever Brendon pulled off a particularly difficult maneuver, flying over the canyons near the farm. But that was all he’d ever say.
Brendon wanted to go to Academy, but his Aunt and Uncle kept him on, season after season. They needed his help. The droids were so unreliable.
Speaking of which. . .
“Brendon, honey, can you get me a translator droid?” Aunt Greta shouted up to Brendon from the courtyard of their home. “Our last one broke and I can’t communicate with the dishwasher.”
“I’ll try!” said Brendon. “There isn’t much up here, but I’ll tell Uncle Darren.”
Brendon was a teenager and thus was opposed to most forms of authority, but he did love his Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren. He just wished they’d let him go to Academy and be a pilot.
“Uncle Darren,” he said, tugging on Uncle Darren’s sleeve, “Uncle Darren, Aunt Greta wants a translator droid.”
Uncle Darren raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like there’s much. We’ll see.” He approached a black-plated, ecstatic-looking droid with weird markings around the eyes. “You a translator?”
“Yes! My name’s Gerard Way, I’m fluent in like, 6 billion languages and most forms of protocol and-”
“Can you help my wife? She’s having trouble communicating with-”
“Dude. Dude, are you kidding me? I can save your life!”
Brendon turned away to cover up his laughter. Even Uncle Darren was smiling. “Alright. Alright, we’ll take you.”
He nodded at the Jawas. “That one and that one.” He pointed to a smaller red unit that looked like a round Swiss army knife. Brendon wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that Gerard’s face fell. The droid raised a hand briefly in parting to the other droids, and then turned and walked back to the house with them.
The smaller red droid exploded just steps away from the house.
“The hell?” demanded Uncle Darren turning to the Jawas. “What are you trying to pull?”
“Excuse me,” Gerard poked Brendon in the back. “Excuse me, but I know that little one. The one with the colored markings? He’s a fine droid. You should get him.”
“I don’t know, he looks like he was owned by hippies.”
“He was. But he’s fully recovered now.”
Brendon shrugged. “Uncle Darren! What about that one?”
“I don’t know,” said Uncle Darren. “He looks like he was owned by hippies. What are all those markings on his legs?”
“I don’t know,” said Brendon, “but Gerard says he’s a good unit.”
“Uh,” said Uncle Darren. “Okay. We’ll take him. Brendon, go get these guys cleaned up.”
Brendon took them down to the shop and set Gerard up with an oil bath. Gerard was delighted.
“It was so dirty, man, you have no idea. All these droids with like, eyes missing or limbs missing. Seriously. It was a nightmare.” He sighed, content with his nightmarish memories. “I’m going to be so clean!”
Brendon sat down and started wiping off the little one with a wet rag. “What’s this guy’s name?”
“Frank. I promise, Master Brendon, he’s a great droid. He won’t disappoint you.”
“He’s got something jammed in him.” Brendon pulled out a screwdriver and began poking at Frank. “Really jammed into him.”
“Oh?” said Gerard faintly. “I haven’t the slightest idea. . .”
Frank gurgled.
“What’d he say?”
“If you take the restraining bolt off, you could probably get to it.” Gerard coughed. “I don’t know, man.”
Brendon frowned at Frank. “Well. If you don’t run off. You’re small, I could catch you and beat you up.”
“Oh, don’t,” said Gerard. “He’s nice.”
Frank gurgled happily.
Brendon took off the restraining bolt. Immediately Frank spat out a grainy video of a beautiful girl. “Help, Patrick Stump,” she pleaded, down on one knee. “You’re my only hope.”
“Oh shit,” said Brendon, starstruck. “She’s gorgeous.”
Gerard hummed. “Frank says that that is his former master and that he must find Patrick Stump right away. His master is in terrible trouble and needs Patrick Stump’s help.”
“Master?”
“He says it’s a boy. Are you sure?” Gerard asked Frank. “Really? Well, whatever dude. Looks like a girl to me.”
“Brendon?” Aunt Greta called him. “Dinnertime!”
“Don’t run off,” said Brendon, thoughts twisting around the beautiful boy who needed Patrick Stump’s help, whoever that was. “I’ll be back.”
Frank ran off.
Gerard was displeased that Frank was so quick to shrug off orders. He liked Brendon. Brendon was nice to them.
“Dude,” said Frank. “The Prince is in trouble! I gotta help him out. Patrick Stump is the only one who can help him.”
“I’m not leaving,” said Gerard. “We’ll get in trouble. We only just got out of trouble!”
“See you,” said Frank and he hobbled out. Gerard sat in a corner in the dark.
“He ran off?” said Brendon. “But I told him not to!”
“Frank doesn’t listen to reason,” said Gerard. “He listens to his heart.”
“I did that once,” said Brendon. “And then my uncle yelled at me. Seriously, droids aren’t supposed to do that.”
“Frank is special.”
Brendon considered this.
“Very special,” added Gerard.
“How close are you?”
“We’re just friends, he’s just a dude, you know how it is, you know? It’s a statement.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to bed.”
“We’re not going to save Frank?”
“It’s too dark out,” said Brendon. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll protect you from the dark.”
Brendon smiled at that, but fell asleep in the shop anyway. Gerard sang him to sleep.
In the morning they went to find Frank. They found him far out in the desert and caught in a sand dune. A short man was trying to dig him out.
“You idiot,” said Gerard fondly. Brendon lifted him out of the speeder and he hobbled over to Frank. “We were worried sick!”
Brendon started to dig Frank out. “Thanks for helping, Patrick,” he said. “My droid here is special.”
“Very special,” said the man. “So hey, what’s he doing out here?”
“He ran away,” Brendon explained. “Trying to find some dude named Patrick Stump.”
“I’m Patrick Stump,” said Patrick. “You know me!”
“I thought maybe he meant a different Patrick Stump.”
“What’s a droid want to find me for? I don’t use them.”
“He has a message. This hot prince wants your help.” Brendon mimicked the voice, a monotone he could barely achieve. “‘Help me, Patrick Stump! You’re my only hope!’ He was seriously beautiful.”
“Oh yeah?” said Patrick. “Pull him out.”
They hefted Frank out of the hole he’d fallen into. Frank gurgled at them in thanks. Then he buzzed and projected the picture of the prince on Gerard’s groin, the highest flat surface he could reach.
“General Stump,” began the prince, looking hot as all motherfuck. “Years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars. . .”
Brendon put a hand on his forehead. He could help serve the prince!
“. . .my ship has fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring these maps of the Emperor’s battle station to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the Republic in Frank here. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see that it is delivered to him. This is our most desperate hour.”
The prince did indeed look desperate. His soft brown hair was falling into his face and it made Brendon’s stomach go funny. He wanted to help the prince.
“Help me, Patrick Stump,” pleaded the young prince. “You’re my only hope.” The transmission cut short.
“That tickled,” said Gerard.
“We must go to Alderaan at once,” said Patrick. “Brendon, you come with me. The Emperor’s soldiers are going to be looking for you, especially since you’re the owner of these very important droids.”
“Very important,” whispered Gerard to Frank.
“You’ll be safest with me. I’m a Jedi.”
“No way!” Brendon didn’t believe in the Jedi. His Uncle Darren had always said they were a myth, a dead religion.
“I have a lightsaber.” Patrick grinned. “I have your father’s too.”
Brendon stopped short. “You knew my dad?”
“He was a good friend of mine, before he was killed by Lord Pancho. For real Brendon, come with me. We can go save the prince together.”
“I want to save the prince!” Brendon really, really wanted to save the prince. Something about him was so familiar and wonderful and home-y; he really, really wanted to save him. “I better go tell Uncle Darren.”
“We don’t have time.” He put a hand on Brendon’s sleeve. “It’s dangerous, the Emperor will doubtlessly be looking for these droids.” He bit his lip. “Brendon, we have to leave immediately.”
“I’m a responsible boy,” said Brendon as he climbed back into his speeder. “Aunt Greta says that’s the only other thing I have going for me, besides my uncanny ability to fly and shoot stuff. Don’t worry. I’ll come right back.”
Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren had been killed. The farm was on fire. The uniform steps of the stormtroopers were everywhere in the sand around the farm. And Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren had been killed.
Brendon turned away. He went back to Patrick.
They flew into Mos Eisley. Brendon only ever came to Mos Eisley at night to go clubbing with his friends. Seeing it in the daytime was different, although it was still one of the more unpleasant places on Brendon’s home planet. Brendon was glad he had a real, live Jedi that would protect him.
The port was crawling with more stormtroopers than usual and it was impossible to avoid being questioned. However, Patrick made no attempt to evade them and stopped the speeder as soon as he was flagged down.
“Can I see some id for your droids?” said one of the stormtroopers. “We’re looking for some units that are in possession of top-secret information that could bring down the Republic.”
“Oh,” said Patrick, grinning at the stormtroopers winningly. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”
“These aren’t the droids we’re looking for,” repeated the stormtrooper. “Move along.”
“Sweet,” said Patrick. Brendon turned around to watch the stormtrooper. He was shaking his head, looking a little starstruck.
“Here.” Patrick stopped the speeder in front of a grimy, unimaginative cantina. “This place will be filled the kind of douches that’ll take us across the galaxy, no questions asked.”
“I’m underage,” Brendon reminded him.
Patrick put a hand on Brendon’s arm, shaking his head. “It’s all about the strut. Walk with me.”
They walked into the cantina. Frank and Gerard stayed outside. Frank suntanned. Gerard stood in the shadows, fretting that the sun would fry his wires.
“We won’t be long,” said Brendon. “If a stormtrooper comes, kick him in the balls.”
“That’s very rude,” said Gerard.
“They want to kill the prince, that’s ruder. Think of it as a statement.”
The cantina was dark and seedy. A band was playing crap Fall Out Boy covers in the corner. Patrick shaded his eyes against the dim light. “That man,” he said, pointing to a tall man with his legs propped on the table. The man stared at them, his upper lip curling. “That’s the man we want. He’s just the right amount of stupid and sleazy. He’ll take us where we want to go.”
Brendon was much more taken by his gentlemen friend, a great, hulking, hairy beast of a man, with limbs like tentacles and the most unpleasant expression. He was a little afraid. But he trusted Patrick. They sat down at the table across from the man and his friend.
“We need to get to Alderaan,” said Patrick, “can you get us there?”
“I don’t know,” said the man, taking his feet off the table and leaning close to them. “Port’s closed, the Empire’s all up on everyone’s asses. No one’s getting in or coming out. It’d take a lot to convince me.”
“Anything you can imagine,” said Patrick, waving a hand, “if you get us to our destination without incident. We need to get there as quickly as possible, though.”
“I can imagine quite a bit,” said the man. He put his arms behind his head. “Why do you want to go to Alderaan?”
“We have our reasons,” said Patrick. “You just worry about getting there.”
“Secrecy costs more,” threatened the man.
“Anything you can imagine,” said Patrick again.
The cantina roared around them with illicit substances and broken-hearted affairs. Glass shattered in the background. Instruments swung off-key with the sounds of an aching universe.
“I’m Travis McCoy, this’s William,” said the man finally. “William likes you, so we’re going take you to Alderaan.”
The long limbed creature grinned at them with all his teeth. Brendon felt very unsettled. He slouched closer to Patrick. Patrick nodded at him, a small reassurance.
“Prince Spencer,” said Darth Pancho. “So good of you to join us.”
“Darth Pancho,” said Spencer, nodding and raising his cuffed hands in a mock salute. “I recognized your foul stench when I was brought on board. When was the last time you showered?”
“Oh, ages ago,” said Darth Pancho. “Being evil, you know. It’s such a fast-paced lifestyle, things like personal hygiene get put aside.”
“Bullshit,” said Spencer. “You think trying to take down your oppressive regime is easy? I still have time to wash up.”
“Whatever,” said Darth Pancho. “The metal suit makes it a little hard, you know? Don’t hate. Sooo, hey. Where’s your little Rebel base?”
“Fuck off.”
Darth Pancho looked at him. “You got balls, I’ll give you that.” He strode over to the window in front of them and pointed at the planet in front of them. “See that? That’s your home planet. Alderaan. What a lovely, peaceful planet. And we have big, planet exploding guns pointed at it. This Death Star can blow it to a billion tiny pieces if I say so.”
He turned back to Spencer. Spencer was shaking, his face pale.
“Where’s your Rebel base?”
“Dantooine,” said Spencer instantly.“Dantooine, it’s on Dantooine, I swear.”
“Awesome,” said Darth Pancho. “Fire when ready, commander.”
“What?” said Spencer, looking frantic. “What? No!”
Alderaan exploded in fire and became several billion pieces of rock. The Prince put his face in his hands.
“Oh,” said Patrick, clutching his chest. “Fuck. My heart.”
“Are you alright?”
“I felt a disturbance in the force,” he said. “That’s weird. I haven’t felt such a sudden silence in years.”
“Tell me about my dad,” said Brendon, sliding closer to Patrick on the bench. They were sitting in the main cabin of Travis’s ship. They’d started out in the cockpit, but William growled at them and Travis kicked them out. “He needs his space,” Travis explained, closing the door behind them.
“What do you want to know?” asked Patrick.
“Everything,” said Brendon. “Aunt Greta and Uncle Darren never talk - never talked - about him.”
“He was a good man,” said Patrick. “A very good man. One of the most amazing Jedi I knew. The force was stronger in him then anyone I’d ever known.”
“What happened to my dad?”
“He was murdered by Lord Pancho, the emperor’s right-hand man.” Patrick’s face twisted. “An evil man, but a worthy adversary. But evil. Most evil fuckin’ guy I ever met.”
“Oh.”
Patrick nodded. “Dude’s a king douche. But your father was a good man. I saved his lightsaber for you. He’d have wanted you to have it. He always believed you’d be a good Jedi. Said the force would be stronger in you than in him. I’d believe it.”
“Really?” Brendon had never had anything strong in him before. Especially not a personality trait. Well, except for his overwhelming sense of responsibility and his uncanny ability to fly stuff and shoot stuff.
“Try it, here.” Patrick pulled the lightsaber out and handed it to him.
“It’s heavy.”
“It’s a deadly weapon, of course it’s heavy.” Patrick stood up and pulled Brendon to his feet. “Try it.”
Brendon turned it on. “Oh god,” he breathed, wielding it. “Oh god, oh god. Patrick. It’s beautiful.”
“Fuck yes,” said Patrick. He patted Brendon on the shoulder. “Frankie! Give Brendon something to practice with.”
Frank vibrated, his whole body shifting with glee. Then he threw a knife at Brendon.
“Oh shit!” shouted Brendon. He swung the lightsaber out. The knife flew past him and clattered on the floor.
“Missed!” said Gerard. “Both of you.” He was grinning.
“Again,” said Patrick. “Again, Frank.”
Frank threw another knife at Brendon. Brendon yelped and jumped.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Come here.” Patrick tied a blindfold over Brendon’s eyes. “Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts.”
Brendon waited. There was a sharp whistling sound and he swung forward. The lightsaber hissed and there was the clang of pieces of the knife falling to the floor. Frank groaned.
“I got it,” Brendon pulled the blindfold off. “Patrick, I got it!”
“Well done,” said Patrick. “Keep practicing.”
Frank threw another knife at Brendon. Brendon sliced it cleanly in half without looking at it. “Awesome, dude,” said Patrick. “You’ve got it.”
Travis wandered in, looking more disheveled then he had when they’d left the cockpit. “Hey man, if you fuck up this ship, I will drop you off right here.”
“No, dude,” said Patrick, scooting over so there was room for Travis on the bench. “I’m educating Brendon in the ways of the force.”
“You believe in that witchery?” Travis sat down, throwing an arm across the bench behind Patrick. “Man, that shit is unreal.”
Frank threw another knife, this time at Brendon’s feet. Brendon jumped up, but still managed cut the knife down.
“It’s not witchery,” said Patrick. “It’s a living energy that controls your destiny. But,” he said to Brendon, “you control it, too.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Travis. “No unseen living energy controls my destiny.”
There was a groan from the cockpit. Travis was on his feet in an instant. “What’s going on, Billy?” he said. “What- what?”
Patrick and Brendon rushed into the cockpit. Travis was already scrambling for the ship’s controls. “There’s not supposed to be an asteroid field here!” Travis said. “Bill, where the hell are we?”
William barked at him, indistinct, as he curled up into his co-pilot seat. Travis flung himself on to the steering. “I don’t know! How could a whole planet disappear? There’s supposed to be a planet here! Alderaan, Billy. What the hell?”
“Oh,” said Patrick sitting down heavily in one of the back chairs. “That was a planet.”
“That was a. . .no. No! That’s impossible!” Travis turned around, staring at Patrick in horror. “That’s impossible.”
“What’s that?” said Brendon.
“What’s what? Shut up, kid. We’re missing a planet here.”
“No, that,” said Brendon pointing. “It looks like a small moon!”
“There can’t be a moon if there’s no- what the hell?”
It was not a small moon. It was a very large space station.
“That,” said Patrick. “That’s possible.”
“Oh fuck,” said Travis. “Bill, we gotta get the fuck out of here.”
The ship jolted. There was an electrical crash from the back and Frank buzzed at them.
“We’ve been locked onto their tractor beam,” said Travis, his face twisting in anger. “They’ve got us.”
They hid in a couple of secret compartments in the floor while stormtroopers searched the ship overhead. Brendon fidgeted. Small enclosed spaces with guys who were taller then him made him nervous.
“Shh,” said Travis. Footsteps echoed overhead, paused, then continued off the ship.
Travis reached up and shoved the metal plating off from over them. Brendon looked up. Patrick was climbing out of his hole. “We’ve got to get of here.”
“No shit.”
“I’ll disable the shields,” said Patrick. “You three save the Prince.”
“The Prince?” Brendon crawled out of the compartment. Actually, Travis pulled him out by the back of his shirt. “The Prince is here?”
“Yes,” said Patrick. “I can feel him. He’s very distressed.”
“What Prince?” said Travis, as he grabbed William’s arms and pulled him out. “Who said anything about saving a Prince?”
“The Prince!” said Brendon. “He’s so beautiful. He got taken by the Empire and now we have to get him back.”
“What for?” said Travis, slinging an arm around William. “I’m happy with what I got.”
“With the Prince lies your reward,” said Patrick, shrugging. “But you can hang out here, if you want. Whatever.”
Travis jumped to his feet. “Let’s go get him.”
Through the cunning use of baseball bats, they managed to steal some stormtrooper outfits and sneak into a control room with the droids and Patrick.
“You’re so short,” said Travis, laughing down at Brendon.
“Yeah, well,” said Brendon. “I bet I’m a better shot then you.”
“We’ll meet back here,” said Patrick. “I’ll turn off the tractor field and you go get the boy. Frank and Gerard, you stay here.”
“Yes sir.” Brendon saluted him. Patrick disappeared. “Hey, Frank,” said Brendon. “Where is he? Where’s the Prince?”
Frank plugged into the main computer and gurgled. “Frank says he’s on the sixth floor,” translated Gerard. “In a regular holding cell. It should be fairly easy to get to him.”
“Okay,” said Brendon. “Travis, handcuff William and let’s go get him.”
William groaned.
Getting up to the cell block was easy. Getting in was less so. Travis grew impatient of the constant questioning and started shooting up the place.
“I hate people who ask unnecessary questions,” he said, as the last man crumpled. “Brendon, go get the boy. This place is gonna be flooded stormtroopers soon.”
Brendon ran down to the hallway and opened the Prince’s cell door. He jumped inside, with every intention of making a dashing first impression, but he stopped. His breath was caught in his throat and he took at a step back. The Prince was just sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You’re a little short for a stormtrooper,” he said, yawning. He was beautiful.
“What?” said Brendon. “Oh, the uniform.” He took his helmet off. “We’re here to rescue you!”
“We’re?” The Prince did not look convinced.
“Me and Travis and William. Come on, we’re here to rescue you. Come on!”
He grabbed the Prince’s hand. Travis ran down the cell block. “Brendon!” he shouted. “Brendon, get your boy and go, we’ve got company!”
There was a lot of shooting outside the Prince’s cell.
“Your rescue mission sucks,” observed the Prince. Travis glared at him.
“My apologies, sweetheart. We didn’t have to come get you.”
The Prince raised an eyebrow.
More stormtroopers rushed into the control room at the end of the cellblock. Travis and Brendon shot at them with little luck. William ran out of ammo and threw his gun at the soldiers, knocking one of them over.
“You three are horrible shots,” said the Prince. “Give me that.” He took Brendon’s gun, shot a stormtrooper and then shot a hole in a grate on the floor. “Let’s go.”
“What?”
“Come on, I’m getting us out of here.” He jumped in. Brendon followed. Travis sighed. “William, is it really worth it?”
William growled.
Travis pushed him in the grate, took a few more shots, and jumped down the chute. He landed at Brendon’s side on a pile of bananas and rusted metal. In the garbage disposal.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
William grumbled at him.
Brendon was shouting into his link with Gerard and Frank. “Gerard? Gerard, can you get us out of here? We’re in the garbage disposal. The door’s locked from the inside.”
The walls shifted and creaked and began move closer together.
“Oh no,” said Travis shaking his head. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Come on,” said the Prince. “Help me prop up the walls.”
“This was a great idea,” said Travis as he helped the Prince brace trash against the walls. “Oh, just perfect.”
“Like your plan of shooting everything in sight was working?” said the Prince. “God.”
“We’re going to die in here,” said Travis.
“We’re going to live,” said the Prince, and the determination on his face scared Travis into lifting a metal bar against the wall.
Still. The walls moved closer “Sugar, I’m not so sure about our chances in here.”
“Please,” said the young man, pausing to put his hands on his hips. “My name is Spencer. Use a term of endearment to belittle my power again and I will punch you in the head.”
Travis raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry.”
“Thank you,” said Spencer. He smiled. It took everything Travis had not to clutch his chest for the burn in his heart. Brendon was right. The man was beautiful.
Brendon was still shouting. “Gerard, Gerard! Gerard, help us!”
The men and William started climbing up the walls as the trash piled up underfoot.
Gerard’s voice cracked over the link. “Brendon, man, are you alright?”
“Shut down the garbage disposal! We’re all going to die!”
“What?”
“Stop asking me questions!” shouted Brendon. “Just shut down the garbage disposal!”
“Hang on dog, I’m gonna get you out of there!”
Gerard hit Frank on the head. “Shut down the garbage disposal, you idiot! They’re all going to die!”
Frank giggled.
Just as Brendon felt the sludge creep up waist-deep, the walls stopped moving.
“I told you!” said Gerard’s jubilant voice. “I told you I’d save your life!”
Brendon sagged against the wall of the garbage disposal. Spencer and Travis hugged.
The garbage disposal was easy compared to this.
“Oh fuck,” said Brendon, looking down at the deep and cavernous electrical chasm that stood between him and Spencer, and the way back to the ship. “I think I blasted the controls for the walkway.”
“Huh,” said Spencer. There was a lot of banging from the other side of the door. Banging and shooting. He peered down at the chasm, nose crinkling.
“Well. Okay. Come on.” He grabbed a clip off of Brendon’s belt. A very small, but very strong metal coil that his Uncle Darren had given to him years ago. He’d forgotten about it.
Spencer flung one end of the coil up. It caught on a beam. Spencer grinned. “Ready, Brendon?”
Brendon grabbed hold of the coil. Spencer grabbed hold of him.
“Kiss for good luck?” said Brendon hopefully.
“Shut up,” Spencer said. “Jump.” He hugged Brendon a little bit tighter. Brendon closed his eyes and jumped.
They landed on the other side, just as the stormtroopers managed to get the door open behind them. Brendon grabbed Spencer’s hand and they ran.
They met up with Travis and William, who’d split off to draw attention away from the Prince. Travis had developed a weird sense of protectiveness when it came to Spencer and he grabbed Spencer’s shoulder as soon as Spencer came near. “You alright?” he said. “Let’s get back to the ship.”
Frank and Gerard waved from the dock of the ship.
“Patrick,” said Brendon. “Patrick, where’s Patrick?”
“Patrick Stump,” said Spencer, grabbing Brendon’s arm. “Patrick Stump’s here?”
“Shit,” said Travis, pointing.
Patrick wasn’t really ready to die, but he accepted the fact that it would come, had come, for him, and if it meant that those crazy kids got the hell out of dodge, then he was prepared. His future had come and past. It was their turn now.
“Pancho,” he said, swinging under Pancho’s lightsaber and stepping backwards into the docking bay. “You haven’t changed.”
“You haven’t either,” said Pancho. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
“I haven’t,” said Patrick, although this was a lie. He jump forward, lightsaber swinging. “You’re not the man I used to know.”
“You said I hadn’t changed!” Pancho sounded sad.
“There’s a difference,” said Patrick. “You know what I mean.”
“Patrick!” shouted Brendon from across the hanger. “Patrick, come on!”
Pancho and Patrick turned. “Oh Brendon,” said Patrick, sighing.
Pancho looked at him, startled. “Bren-”
Patrick swung at him. Pancho deflected.
“Patrick!”
Pancho laughed. “He’s all grown up!”
Patrick shook his head. “No, Pancho.” He held up his lightsaber, looking Pancho dead in the eye. He smiled.
Pancho cut him cleanly in half. Patrick disappeared and his clothes dropped to the floor.
“No!” screamed Brendon. “No, no. Patrick!”
“Brendon, we’ve got to go!” shouted Spencer.
“Patrick!” Brendon picked up a gun and began shooting at the stormtroopers, at Pancho, at the walls of space station. Patrick. Patrick couldn’t be dead.
“Brendon, my friend,” said William, “you have to let go.” He knocked the gun out of Brendon’s hands and hefted him over his shoulder. He ran back aboard the ship and collapsed with Brendon on the floor. As the main doors slid shut and the ship took off, Brendon thought he saw Pancho standing motionless in the hanger bay, just watching and waiting.
Brendon was moping in the main room of Travis’s ship as they flew out of the space station. Spencer put an arm around him. “Are you alright?”
Brendon looked at Spencer. He shook his head.
Travis came running out of the cockpit. “Brendon, we’ve got company, get your ass over here!”
Brendon followed Travis up into the gun turrets. Spencer ran to sit in the co-pilot’s seat next to William. William growled, pointing into the universe around them. Spencer nodded. “Yeah, I see them. Guys,” he lifted his voice. “Guys, we got three fighter pilots on us! Guys?”
“Loud and clear, sweetheart,” Travis shouted back. “Keep us posted.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “How the hell do you put up with him?” he asked William. William shrugged.
Brendon had never really shot anything before. He’d shot dead droids and rats down on Tatooine and okay yeah, the droids weren’t moving, but he’d never missed a rat before, but. But. But the rats weren’t threatening his life, and Spencer’s life, and Travis’s and William’s and Gerard’s and Frank’s lives. No one was depending on his superior shooting skills to live. He froze.
“Don’t over think it, kid!” Travis shouted down to him. “Just shoot!”
“Feel, don’t think,” Patrick echoed in Brendon’s memory. “Use your instincts.”
“Yes sir,” said Brendon. He watched for the fighters and shot. It was easier than shooting rats. The rats were smaller and faster.
“I got one!” he said. “Hey- I got one!”
“Nice,” said Travis. “But there’s two more left.”
Between then two of them, they cleaned up the enemy fighters and the threat was gone. Down in the cockpit, Spencer smiled. “They’re not so bad, are they?”
William shook his head, looking proud.
“Yeah,” said Spencer. “Yeah.”
William hugged him.
The flight back to the hidden Rebel base was an uneventful one. Spencer and William played poker. Travis threw knifes at Brendon for Brendon to practice on. Gerard sang some soft background music. Frank provided the percussion.
Brendon thought that maybe, maybe, this was the space life that he’d been waiting for.
Spencer dragged Brendon off to a briefing for the pilots who were out to destroy the Death Star. “You two can come,” he said to Travis and William, “if you like. I know you’re only here because you got paid.”
Travis stared at him. Spencer cocked his hips, tapping his fingers on his thighs. Travis swallowed.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Travis. “We’ll come, sure.”
They stood in the back.
Their commander was a man named Tyson. When he smiled, he looked completely out of control. It was an infectious wildness; everyone in the Rebel base was filled with a renewed desire to fight and win. “Thanks to the maps the prince managed to retrieve for us,” said Tyson with a nod at Spencer, “we’ve got a good reading one what you kids are up against. The station is designed and armed against an attack of a large scale. Guys,” he said, looking around at them. “We don’t have a large-scale attack. We’ve got you in your fighters and that’s all we need. But we don’t have much time before the Death Star is in firing range of the planet and we all get cooked. Your target area is only two meters wide and you’ve only got one shot with the torpedoes. So make that shot count.” He paused, looking out at his fighters. He looked to be in tears with sincerity. “I want you all to come home alive.”
“Two meters,” said one of the nervous recruits. “That’s insane. We’ll never make that.”
“No way,” said Brendon. “Back home I used to shoot rats on the farm and those were much smaller then two meters.” He grinned at the recruit.
The recruit smiled back. “Yeah?”
Brendon smiled. “Yeah, for sure.”
The Death Star wasn’t as threatening from the outside, from behind the cockpit of his own fighter. Or that was what Brendon kept telling himself.
Spencer had given him a kiss for good luck right before he left. Brendon had decided at that moment that he was coming back, no matter what.
“Frankie,” he said over his intercom. Frank was in back, monitoring the ship, and Brendon was incredibly grateful to have him. There was no one better. “Frank, we’re coming back alive.”
Frank was quick to agree.
He floated on down through space, surrounded by the rest of the fleet. It was easy. It was easy, just like he was at home again. Brendon thought he might like to be a fighter pilot with the Rebellion for the rest of his life.
It wasn’t as easy for anyone else, Brendon found himself increasingly having to pull out to help his fellow fighters out.
“Brendon,” his link crackled, Tyson in his ear. “Brendon, you’ve got a space. Go for the target.”
Down on the Death Star, Darth Pancho was troubled. Something in the force was disturbing him, nagging at his thoughts. It was annoying. And Darth Pancho did not do well when he was annoyed.
“Ready my ship,” he said to the nearest lackey scurrying about. “I’m going to get rid of these Rebel assholes myself.”
Spencer watched Travis load up his reward on to his ship. “You selfish bastard.”
“Look man,” said Travis. “I’m not in this for your revolution. I got what I came for and I’m out. I got other jobs in other places.”
“Yeah?” said Spencer, putting his hands on his hips. He was frowning. “A job. Is that all this is?”
“Yeah,” said Travis. “Yeah, that’s all.” But once again, he found himself unable to stop staring at Spencer.
“I hope your next job is under the employ of the Empire,” said Spencer. He took a step towards Travis. “And I know you’ll be very happy there.”
Travis stepped closer to Spencer. “I am not a bad man,” he said evenly. “But this is not my fight.”
Spencer stepped even closer. The two men were now nose to nose. “Then what is?”
Tyson shouted out from the control room. “Spencer? Brendon’s going in.”
Spencer turned and ran back to the control room to Tyson.
“Shit,” said Travis. He shook his head and walked back onto his plane.
Brendon was flying as well he could, but he couldn’t shake this enemy fighter. “Somebody get this guy off me!” he shouted. “I’m not gonna make it!”
He was so close to the target too. So close. Frank buzzed behind him, worried.
“The force is unusually strong in this one,” murmured Darth Pancho. “Little jerk.” He shot at Brendon. He missed, but damaged the droid in back.
“Guys!” shouted Brendon. “Guys, I need some back up! Frank’s down, I need backup!”
“Tyson,” said Spencer. “Tyson, Brendon is so close. Where are the rest of our people?”
“Too far out,” said Tyson. He yelled down the comm link to the fighters. “Somebody go help Brendon!”
“Commander!” shouted Brendon helplessly, as he dodged the enemy fire. He couldn’t shake this guy! “I’m not gonna make it if I stay down here, I have to pull out.”
There was a shout over the intercom. “Shit kid, why are you giving up so fast?”
Travis shot at the enemy fighter planes. One exploded. The other spun out of control into space.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” said Darth Pancho as he drifted into space. “No fuckin’ way.”
Brendon shot the target; direct hit. He pulled up and out as Tyson screamed down the intercom for everyone to get back home.
The Death Star exploded just as the last Rebel fighter flew out of range. Brendon looked back at the explosion, a mess of fire and light. He felt good.
“You did it!” shouted Spencer when Brendon pulled into the hanger bay and got out of his cockpit. Brendon jumped off the ladder and flung his arms around Spencer. “I did it!”
Travis cleared his throat. He stood behind Spencer, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, you did good, kid.”
Brendon hugged him too and pulled back when William made a growly noise. Spencer grinned at Travis. “You came back,” he said. “I knew you’d come back.”
Travis spread his arms. “Yeah, well.”
They smiled at each other. William swatted Travis on the arm and Travis gave William a hug.
Brendon put an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. He knew he’d come back alive.
In the background, he heard Gerard fussing over Frank, who was smoking a little as he was pulled out of Brendon’s ship. “Frankie, how the fuck do you do it, man,” he exclaimed. “Everywhere we go, you always get in trouble.”
Frank gurgled at him, a cheerful, if weak, mechanical noise.
“Dude, someday, I’m not gonna fix you.” Gerard was already wiping the grease off of Frank’s shell. “I. . .seriously. Someday.”
Frank spat at him, whining.
“Fuck you, I’ll always be there to clean you up,” said Gerard. “I’m just not gonna do it.” He sighed, a long dramatic sound that made Brendon smile. “Master Brendon, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take him to the mechanic’s. Frank needs help and I do not have to tools to sort this out.”
“Yes,” said Brendon, leaning his head on Spencer’s shoulder. Spencer tightened his grip on him. “Go ahead.”
Gerard beamed.
01. Happy Birthday hatoyona and ratherblank! This is not your only present, but it is the one that will not cause you a storage problem. Both of you!
02. If you're worried, continue. Oh yes. Next time, Gabe Saporta stars as Lando Calrissian.