At the beginning of the Clone Wars, Moatia Rhaden is granted padawan status, made a Commander, and shipped across the galaxy. Nothing seems to make sense, and Moatia is lost at every turn.
But at least she has her Master and her men beside her.
~ T...
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Moatia felt like she was dying.
She also felt sticky. She hadn't known dying included feeling sticky.
Something was covering her mouth, too. What was that? Her brain felt mushy.
Moatia fought to open her eyes. Why couldn't she open her eyes?
It felt like she was in a jar of goo. Disgusting.
Using more energy than should have been necessary, Moatia brought her hands up to her eyes.
She rubbed them open, but cried out when she saw where she was.
Moatia was in a bacta tank. Her breathing began to quicken.
She had to get out of here. She couldn't stay here.
There was something over her mouth, and she couldn't breathe. The goo burned her eyes, so she quickly shut them.
It felt like the goo was pressing in all around her, trying to suffocate, or rather drown, her. If she hadn't been left suspended in a thick mushy substance, she was sure she would be opening bawling by this point.
Moatia devoted all her energy to pounding her hand against the glass of the tank. They didn't mean to put her in here. It was a mistake and as soon as they recognized it they would let her out.
They had to let her out.
But nobody was coming. Moatia began to grow frantic. She didn't know what was happening.
Hands beginning to shake, Moatia cried out louder. Everything was sticky and itchy and she couldn't stand it any longer.
Two more seconds and she would attempt to peel her skin off. Anything to get this itchy, sticky, nasty, crowding whatever it was away from her. All of a sudden, Moatia was hyper aware of every single cell in her body, and they were all demanding her complete attention.
It was too much, and Moatia wished she would just explode.
She thought she heard a cracking sound, and hoped it was the glass of the tank breaking so she could claw her way out.
Scratching futilely at her arms, legs, and chest -- anything in reach, Moatia tried to focus on her erratic breathing.
Maybe she could use the Force to snap this stupid tank open.
Then she felt her body being yanked upwards, and most of the wretched goop draining away from her.
Moatia began to cry with relief.
"Moa, Moa," a soft voice was calling out to her. "You're okay."
"My little one, we're here," another voice said.
The thing over her mouth was removed and she felt a towel being pulled over her face.
