𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ⸺ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞.

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0128 standard hours. Years 7963 (14 BBY.)
The Stinger Mantis, Duros Space Run.

VÆMAS.

⚡︎ ⁺. ◍ 。

    𝓝O.

BLOOD RUSHED in her ears.

A stormtrooper strung up to the chair. A needle sunk into her neck, the pain the only thing feeling real.

"Proceed."

The Ninth Sister's laugh. The screams. Her screams.

She felt herself lunging forward, grabbing something she could not see. A hand clasped her shoulder, the works taking seconds to reach her.

"Væmas."

His voice jerked her out of her memories as she looked up to meet hazel eyes, that anchored her into the here and now. He continued, his tone soft and understanding.

"You don't have to go. I can manage on my own—"

"I'll go."

The words came out on their own. She braced, excepting the little voice in her head to mock her, to let out one of its vicious remarks, but it stayed quiet. For once. Even it knew that she had no choice. The fact was easier to accept than she thought it would be.

"I'll go." She repeated, slowly turning her head towards Organa and Ahsoka, using all the strength she had to present a composed face. Now was not the time to falter.

Everyone exchanged worried glances, but no one dared to protest. Væmas reluctantly let go of the table, fearing for a moment that she might collapse without something to keep her in the present moment. She only realized her hands were shaking when another hand slid in hers under the cover of the table, warm fingers giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She did not risk looking at Cal as she intertwined her fingers with his, only sending a wave of gratitude through their bond. Clearing her throat, she swallowed hardly before asking, somewhat proud that she managed to speak without her voice shaking: "Admiral Kydrillo had told me that Crimson Station had been destroyed after my escape, when I was recaptured on Nur."

Organa turned his head to Ahsoka, who crossed her arms before answering. "Well, he lied, probably to cover his tracks. I don't know what the Empire plans to do with the children but heard that the Emperor is personally involved. Adding this to the difficulty I had finding where they are, I'd say this is quite the secret for only two children. I suggest you get going as soon as possible."

"We're on it." It was Cal who answered this time, Organa bowing his head.

"Very well. I...assume you already have the coordinates." His gaze diverted on Væmas as he added. "May the Force be with you."

Ahsoka gave Væmas a small smile before the hologram faded away. The latter let go of Cal's hand and let herself fall on the couch, arms around her knees as if it could somehow protect her from the fear growing back inside of her chest, already questioning why she agreed to this. I don't want to go back there. All I want is to run as far away from that damned planet as possible.

She then remembered the little girl's cries on Naboo. The terror she saw in her eyes and her mother's. These children were innocent. Alone. They could not protect themselves, but she could.

"Confronting fear is the destiny of a Jedi." Her master had one told her. It was not long after he took her as his Padawan and arrived at the front on Felucia. There, she had received her first blaster shot to the side and had spent five hours in surgery. When she had woken up, Master Plo was there, next to her, sat on a chair. She had opened her mouth to speak, to tell that she was terrified to go back on the field, but she did not have to. He understood. And yet she had.

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐬 Where stories live. Discover now