Chapter Text
“Kid.”
He jolts, heart slamming against his rib cage as he nearly drops the lightsaber he’s cleaning.
You’re in trouble you’re about to get reported you’re doing something wrong—
His master offers a small smile and he swallows hard, eyes flickering closed. “Wh– what do you need, M– Master?”
“What answers have you gotten from your meditation?”
“Reg– regarding the Jedi, Master?” he asks carefully, cracking an eye open.
“What else would I ask you about?” the man says, raising an eyebrow as he fights the slight smile.
Swallowing, he answers, trying to speak clearly, though the memory of his punishment at the hands of his master’s master still struggles in its attempts to surface and overwhelm him. “I– it, I mean I– I’m not sure, it– it wasn’t giving me any clear answers, and I– I—“
The quiet laugh isn’t unexpected, but the soft, harsh undertone to it hurts. He keeps his gaze on the floor and tries to avoid looking back up at his master, telling himself he deserves this reaction. In fact, it’s a lot better than he could’ve gotten. A lot better than he should’ve gotten.
“Are you just trying to tell me you didn’t get anything from it? You can just say that straight, kid.”
Swallowing, he nods, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strained as he speaks. “Y– yes, Master. I...I’m sorry, I– I’ll do better next time—“
“And what makes you think that he’ll give you a next time? There are people more...capable of your same set of skills.”
He freezes, breath stopping though he knows it’s just a poorly disguised lie. Please please please please please no….
“Think of yourself as lucky, kid. My master has decided that you deserve a second chance to complete your training.” The flood of relief at the change of subject hits a dam as he’s reminded of his failure only a few years ago. He nods and swallows, blinking as he stares blankly at the durasteel of the small table in front of him.
“We’re being dispatched to the Lothal sector. Do your best, I think we’d both rather not tell my master of your failure again.”
He clenches his teeth together tight enough to hurt. I won’t fail this.
“There we go, kid. That’s the attitude you need.” His master smiles tightly at him before turning to leave. “Make sure you’re ready to leave by 1800 hours. They want us out there as soon as possible.” The dark-haired man grasps his shoulder, squeezing it in what’s as close to comfort as he’s ever felt here. He only nods, keeping his head bowed.
“Of course, Master.”
“Miss Wren.”
She turns away from the hologram, nodding to the officer behind her. “Sir.”
The chief of her research team can’t be younger than 60, the aged creases in his face cutting deeply into his skin. “I trust you’ve received word of the recent...interruptions?”
She nods again, biting her lip as she replies. “Yes, sir. I’ve been working with a representative from the Transport Division to create an alternative route, and—“
“While admirable, your efforts are unnecessary. The Director has arranged for an...alternative course of action.”
Something about the way the chief researcher says the words puts her on edge but she nods regardless, blinking.
“Have you heard of the Inquisitorius, Miss Wren?”
She raises an eyebrow, understanding his reasoning behind the question. “Yes, but...do we really need the... mystics? ”
Something twitches in the man’s face, but she can’t tell if it’s good or bad. His voice is toneless as he responds. “The Director believed it necessary for the continued survival of this project.”
“And Thrawn’s...project?” The officer’s lip curls in disgust, and though Sabine can’t help but appreciate the ingenuity of said project, she attempts to hide her own reaction to her reference to the Defender program.
“Will not have an impact on Stardust if we keep up the rate we are going at. The Emperor will not waste resources on fighters when he sees that our weapon research is proceeding as he has ordered. Unfortunately the delays caused by the local insurgents will be hindering such progress if not dealt with. Hence the Director’s request for an Inquisitor.”
She nods. “When will he be arriving?”
“The Director? Or the Inquisitor?” His eyes are sharp, predatory as he watches for her answer and reaction.
“The In– Inquisitor,” she says carefully, stumbling over the word.
“Tomorrow, likely. I trust everything will be ready by then?” His gaze narrows at her jolt but Sabine recovers, clearing her throat.
“Of– of course, sir. Will he be, ah, inspecting our progress as well as handling the insurgents?”
“For all we know, he will be. Return to work, Miss Wren. I shall inform the rest of your development team.”
She nods, biting her lip as the officer walks away before returning her attention to the holotable. A diagram of the focus lens hovers above her in flickering blue, the amount of kyber needed for it to both power and concentrate its strikes for various energy levels displayed in Aurebesh off to the side. Sighing, she plugs in the projected amounts of kyber they’ll receive this week if shipments continue to be interrupted at the same rate they’re going—the result makes her mouth twist into a frown.
She continues reconfiguring the kyber arrangements, trying to find the lowest minimum possible for the weapon to function at while still maintaining maximum efficiency and power. Despite the hypothetical nature of the project, its non-hypothetical (and smaller) counterpart will rely on these same calculations; it’s imperative that she do them now, so they won’t become problematic further down the road. Several hours later, she’s still there, frustrated at the lack of progress. She takes a step back from the holotable, rubbing her temples. Though the gargantuan version of Stardust is purely hypothetical, she and the rest of her team have been told to put just as much work into it as they would any actual project. Just like her Academy days, working on the Duchess.
Exhaling deeply through her nose, Sabine glances at the chrono and blinks in surprise. It’s half an hour after her shift ended; the only other occupant in the room at the moment is a small cleaning droid, servors giving off a quiet hum. She casts another glance back at the hologram. It’ll be there tomorrow. And if she gets in before her shift starts, she can make some more headway before the Inquisitor arrives. Sighing, she grabs her datapad, closes and re-encodes the plans for Stardust, and shuts down the holotable. She bends to grab her bag, casting another glance at the cleaning droid as she does so, before leaving and locking R and D on her way out.
According to her contract, Sabine’s staying at the complex, in just one more building over from R and D. She had been slightly confused at the time about why Imperial housing had been a requirement, but the Director had waved it away, claiming something about safety from riots. As she’s fiddling with the keypad to her room, she frowns, briefly remembering the similar excuse they’d given her a few short months after completion of the Duchess assignment, only for moving her into solitary classes in another part of campus. The keypad finally beeps and she lets herself in, deciding that there’s no point in thinking about the Duchess any longer. It was just an assignment, and one from a few years ago now, no less. No point in dwelling on it.
She drops her bag on the bed, moving past it to the mirror as she runs a hand through her bright hair. She’d picked the most vivid red she could find that still seemed somewhat normal; unnatural, glaringly artificial hair colors were banned as part of the dress code, though somehow the current scarlet still manages to pass the Director’s scrutiny.
Sabine washes her face quickly before returning to her bag, pulling out her datapad and closing the open documents, intending to check and see if there are any further instructions for tomorrow. Instead her eyes catch on a holovid file on the ‘pad’s main screen, labeled “tri.final.mp4.” She opens her messages quickly.