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022. A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE
( —If you fix a small problem right away, it will not become a bigger problem later. )
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They said luck was the debris of design. But when the design itself had been lacking the foolproof status, luck had been as lost as the wind. When chances and fate came into play, Din surmised that it wasn't too hard to revel in the outcome.
Just like the news on Kuiil's termination, the differed blast had come out of nowhere. Moff Gideon had stood in front of him, the man behind all the trouble he went through, the man who was ready to risk everything for the child, aiming a blaster smaller than the cannon he bore in his hands. Four stormtroopers, his ass.
Chances were unavoidable, that a single bolt could trigger a detonation.
Din saw the lancelike rays of amber and a huge ball of varicoloured flames belched upwards and the gust knocking into him with the force of a thousand burning stars. He couldn't see for a good minute, unable to move, paralyzed from neck and down. The helmet weighed his neck down and he knew—this was how it was going to end. With the last sight of engorging smoke-rings; twisting, writhing and seeing gold.
Cara Dune, he acknowledged. He felt himself being lifted and dragged from the back, seeing flashes of moments with dragging eyelids and he saw the moving lights on the IG droid's eyes. Hung askew its chest was the child in a blanketed carrier, watching him and Din searched the outlay. Never seeing what he wanted to see.
Between the dull ringing and the jarring bursts that sung a song of death before they left the blasters, he saw a flash of golden—a flaxen phoenix casting him a glance as she appeared out of nowhere. Her gold dress had smears of copper and cerise as if she had returned from a battle, emerging victorious. Her hands had end written all over it, seeing the vigorous shaking and the wet grease of blood that ran up her hands. Death tarried at her fingertips, licking onward her elbows and playing it where it belonged.
