Hornet | POE DAMERON

1. "She can't keep up"

Six years ago...

"One more, Mara, come on. I know you have it in you."

I don't. I can't. I'm done, this is it. It's over.

"C'mon, Vali! You're almost there!"

I'm not. I failed.

I tried anyway. One last attempt. My arms were trembling with the effort, but I slowly dropped toward the floor, teeth gritted so hard I thought they'd crack. For a moment I almost believed I could do it, I could make it all the way; everyone was cheering louder, but my shoulder gave out at the last second, hand slipping in the puddle of my sweat on the hangar floor. I didn't even try to catch myself before my head hit the ground. Nothing could ever hurt as bad as the sting of yet another failure.

All around me, the others were torn between staring at me with pitying eyes and congratulating one another for passing. I wish I knew what that felt like.

"Mar, come on. Your nose is bleeding." Miren, my best friend's little sister, tugged at my elbow. She didn't get it. She passed it like it was nothing.

Still, I let her pull me to my feet, using the hem of my shirt against my nose to slow the bleeding. I was tired of the prying eyes.

She tried to cheer me up as we walked to the locker room. "You did the best you could," she said. "I'm sure there's another way you can serve." She was only trying to help, but rage boiled my blood anyway. All I could hear was the sound of my ruined shoulder snapping with every swing of my arm.

"I don't want another way. This was it for me."

"Mara!" I heard a deep voice behind me, and turned to find my best friend with the same look of pity that everyone else seemed to share. He wore the uniform of an upperclassman, having been accepted to the Academy the first year we applied together. And here he was, three years later, supervising the same tests that I'd failed numerous times before. "Mara, I'm sorry. I know how bad you wanted this," Kaji said, quiet enough to not be overheard. "Your obstacle course time was fantastic, and your combat test and cargo run scores were near perfect. It was just your sh-"

"I know why I failed," I snapped, tears stinging my eyes. "I don't need you or anyone else reminding me of it. Just leave me alone."

Several moments of tense silence passed before Kaji shook his head and gave a harsh, incredulous laugh. "I hope one day you realize how many people were rooting for you, and how many of them you drove away. Eventually, you're not gonna have anyone left." He turned to walk away, but his steps slowed and he glanced over his shoulder at me. "You never would've lasted there, anyway." Then he was gone in the crowd of parents hugging their kids, who were now one step closer to their dream. My dream.

Miren eventually gave up trying to help me. I sat quietly against the wall, watching numbly as the plan I'd carefully laid out ten years before went up in flames. This wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to be out there with my parents, celebrating and dreaming and not worrying about anything but what we'd wear on Induction Day. The Induction Day that should've happened three years ago.

These kids were eighteen years old and had the world sitting in the palm of their hands, yet there I was, nearly twenty-two, with no future and no hope.

Enough of the self pity. Get up and do something - anything is better than this.

I stood up and shouldered my gear bag with my good arm, heading out of the hangar without a backward glance. As soon as I stepped out into the evening air, the sun and the breeze met me like a warm embrace, bringing me back to life for a moment. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. If I tried hard enough I could almost hear the ocean, hundreds of miles away, the smell of the sea and feel of the sand, waves crashing and trees rustling, skin burning and lungs screaming from hours spent running and swimming up and down the shoreline.

Oh, what I'd give for just one more day like that.

The short walk home left only enough time for me to watch the hologram my mom had left. Her digitized, blue-tinged face held a hint of pity."Hey, sweetie. I hope it went well today. I figured you're probably in some pain right now, so I set you up with the doctor to get you fixed up again. Tomorrow at four, don't forget. I'll be home later. I love you, baby. Talk to you soon."

"I'm home," I called out as I walked in the door a few minutes later. My brother grunted from the living room, face in a plate of some kind of good-smelling food, eyes glued to his speeder's data pad. He didn't bother saying anything else. That's why we tend to get along so well. We just don't interact.

I trudged down the hall to my room, tossing my gear bag on the floor next to the piles of laundry I never put away last month. Too tired for a shower, I peeled my clothes off until nothing was left and turned toward the mirror. My hair was a wreck, sticking in every direction but the one I wanted it to. My skin was red and splotchy. Another throbbing pain shot down my arm and I gingerly rubbed it, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.

Taking a step closer to the mirror, I lifted a finger and traced it along the numb, jagged scars that criss-crossed my left shoulder. I hated these scars. I hated that I was left with such a permanent, prominent reminder of what I did. I guess that's a fitting punishment, though, right? All I needed was a mirror to look into the eyes of the person I hated most, the person who took everything from me.

My head hurts. I just want to sleep. Maybe I'll be happy again when I wake up.

Then again, that's what I say every night before I fall asleep.

The sleeping pills go down easier now.

A few months later found Mara watching the hologram she knew was coming but dreaded nonetheless.

Good evening, Mara Vali, the Academy's Supreme Commander greeted her. Thank you for your interest and application for admission to the New Republic Military Academy. Unfortunately, your physical aptitude test did not meet the required minimum score, and we are unable to offer you admission into our program. I do want you to know that there are a significant number of cadets currently enrolled at the New Republic Military Academy who were not successful on their initial attempt to gain admission. We encourage you to proceed with plans to continue your training and reapply for admission next year.

Whether it was numbness from everything she'd been through or just a newfound determination, Mara let out a disappointed sigh, and that was all. She grabbed her data pad, opened the single bookmarked page, and applied again.

Because if Mara Vali was anything, she was resilient, and she would not back down. Not this time.