On the Wings of Valkyrie

Chapter CLXXV

"Alright, since we're leaving permanently, we'll have to take him with us," Padmé said, not sounding the slightest bit pleased with her words. "I'll go ahead and get him with some guard droids while you finish the lockdown procedures."

"I can do it," Luna offered, staring dully at the holo that was depicting the numerous procedures required to close down the base. The building had outlived its usefulness for the moment, and it was finally time for the Nabooian and Earthan to follow everyone else back out of the galactic outskirts. They would be meeting up with Han and Leia on Chandrila, the temporary capital of the New Republic. The last time Luna had visited that planet, she'd been wearing a mask.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I've done hundreds of prisoner transfers before. And let's be fair, it's not like he'll be capable of doing much." And if he tries....my Master isn't exactly around to forbid his murder anymore, Luna couldn't help but think to herself morbidly. Not that she was intending to commit partiacid—Vader had given her orders on the subject before that she had no plans to disobey—but if push came to shove, the girl had lightsabers and was not afraid to use them.

"Alright. I'll meet you on the ship," Padmé stated. Luna only nodded, turning and trying not to run from the room as she left. The girl had begun finding being in the presence of others more and more difficult to the point she could hardly stand it. Maybe it was the pity in their eyes that Luna couldn't stand, or perhaps the way they treated her, like she was a porcelain doll that could so very easily shatter (not that she hadn't already been shattered, but Skywalkers and Co. didn't need to know that). Or maybe it was how everyone Luna met seemed to be so very uncomfortable in her presence.

Maybe it was all of it.

Luna wasn't going to do the soul searching required to figure it out. It was bad enough she had somehow developed the tendency to break into tears for next to no reason because her emotions refused to be fully under her control at the oddest times. The girl was hoping activity would help distract her and beat down the emotions, but as of yet, nothing had been active enough. Luna may have her lightsabers back, but she still wasn't permitted to move through forms with them because that counted as strenuous for whatever reason.

That said, perhaps in the end it wouldn't matter. At this point, all Luna could truly do was delay things, namely realizations. Whenever she looked into a mirror (something she did everything to avoid considering the face that would greet her), the girl was always hit with the same crippling realization all over again. The feeling that everything that made her her had been unceremoniously cut away, leaving a cavity of emptiness in her body. At least when moving around she could try to ignore it. Pretend that nothing had changed. The reason she couldn't feel the Force? The cuffs on her wrists. Why was she so weak? Recovering from an injury. Her skin was a different shade because of a tan. She'd cut her hair because she was tired of its length getting in the way.

Her Master was busy. Not dead.

The mirror shattered the delusions Luna had built for herself in order to keep moving, to hide what was happening in her head from those around her. She wouldn't be able to keep it up forever, but she didn't need to.

Luna just had to keep it up until she could escape.

The girl walked through the dim halls with purpose, focusing on her job rather than letting her mind drift. Soon enough she came upon two guard droids—two of the few still activated droids in the base.

"I am here to escort the prisoner," Luna stated. One of the droid's sensors lit up and did a quick bio-scan—many things may have changed, but her DNA hadn't.

"Identity confirmed: Lady Eclipse. Would you like assistance?" it questioned.

"Yes."

"Roger, roger," they responded, turning sideways in unison to allow a clear path to the door. One opened it for her.

It had been awhile since Luna had last seen the cell. It looked better than it had been—cleaner and didn't smell. The prisoner was looking at her in confusion, though Luna didn't know if it was due to the change in routine or the fact she looked different enough to register as a stranger to him.

"Get up," she ordered.

"....Luna?" Henry Ramsey asked, sounding confused and unsure. He didn't look all that certain about his guess.

"Get up," the girl repeated. When he didn't move, she turned her attention to the droids. "Get him up and cuff him."

"Roger, roger," they said, quickly entering the room and following her orders. Ramsey was hauled to his feet and forced forward. Luna watched emotionlessly as he came towards the door before turning around.

"Follow me," she stated as she started down the corridor. The group moved in silence save for their footsteps, which echoed along the empty corridors. It wasn't right seeing a base so devoid of life. Imperial bases bustled with never ending activity while the secret base had always felt full of life, though in all fairness there had always been groups of people present whenever the girl had been here before. Part of Luna's mind found herself wondering how her Master had handled the constant emptiness when she and everyone else had left for various reasons.

The girl then tried to shove away the notion since her eyes had decided to start watering for no reason: Keep your mind clear, Luna. No useless thoughts.

Before Luna really knew it, they had boarded the Lunar Shadow and placed Ramsey in an empty storage room with the droids guarding the outside of it. Padmé was aboard shortly after, and soon enough they had left the atmosphere and the planet, for what could very well be forever.

Luna tried not to think about it as she let the songs of Citizen Soldier, Dean Lewis, and other such artists invade her mind.