Chapter Text
Senya couldn’t breathe.
She was metres above the ground, her legs kicking uselessly for purchase. The unseen noose around her neck tightened, and her hands scrabbled at her throat as if she could pry off the invisible tendrils crushing her windpipe. Her heartbeat pounded on the insides of her skull, louder with each passing second. The pressure in her head steadily increased with all of the blood rushing up, and she knew that sooner or later, the delicate blood vessels in her brain would burst from the unnaturally heightened blood pressure. If she wasn’t going to die from a crushed windpipe or a broken neck, a brain hemorrhage would kill her.
The Force grip around her neck tightened and she choked out another gasp. Black dots swam around her vision, but she still saw her daughter standing in the distance, one hand gripping a lightsaber while the other was raised, fingers curled up into a fist.
Using the Force, Senya reached out at some of the durasteel piping her daughter had ripped out of the wall and tossed at her earlier. With as much strength as she could muster, she threw the pipe at her daughter. Vaylin deftly jumped out of the way, and Senya felt herself fly across the hangar, hitting a safety railing before crashing into the transparisteel viewport of a parked Zakuulan shuttle and sliding off, hitting the ground with a dull thud. She gulped in lungfuls of cool, fresh air.
She'd used the Force to cushion the blows so she wasn’t too bruised, but the relief to her deprived lungs was short-lived. Incorporeal fingers curled around her throat again, and her boots lost contact with the ground. Senya grabbed at destroyed pipes, trusses, and scrap metal, basically anything within a reasonable distance that Vaylin had torn up and sent flying previously in their brawl, and with the Force, she flung them one after another at her daughter. Most of them missed, but one crumply piece of sheet metal luckily made its mark, smacking her daughter and sending her flying metres off to the side.
It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it gave Senya enough time to catch her breath and regain her bearings. Igniting her lightsaber, she leapt across the hangar, reengaging her daughter in a lightsaber match.
They had originally met up in one of the corridors of the flagship, as per Vaylin’s request. Senya regretted agreeing to do it her daughter’s way, since fighting in narrow corridors didn’t allow for full utilization of her lightsaber prowess. She had fought countless times in passageways in her decades of service, but years of experience didn’t assuage her fears of fighting in cramped spaces. Much to her relief, their brawl had eventually made its way into one of the many hangars, granting her generous room for maneuvering but also awarding Vaylin with a lot more things to uproot and fling at her.
She wasn’t sure if Vaylin had deliberately led her here, or if they just happened to end up fighting in a hangar. Either way, it gave her an added bonus: if the duel started heading south for her, she could always jump onto a shuttle and fly to another hangar. After that, she could make her way to her son.
While her daughter’s lightsaber abilities were still rough around the edges in places, her Force attacks were astounding in their power and unpredictability. Vaylin’s raw power had grown exponentially since their duel on Asylum, and even with Senya’s decades of discipline and experience, her daughter easily gained the upper hand when it came to brawling with the Force. Senya had been tossed around the hangar like a ragdoll, crashing into every surface and shuttle, and if it wasn’t for the Force cushioning the impacts, she wouldn’t be alive.
Being lobbed about the hangar and Force choked weren’t the wickedest things Vaylin did with her powers. In her absence, she had picked up some Force drain ability growing up. Senya suspected that some Exarch had taught her that, or maybe it was Valkorion whenever he’d paid slight attention to her. She refused to think of the unfortunate Knights that her daughter undoubtedly had practiced that on. Her daughter had used that depraved attack several moments during their duel, and it had left Senya struggling to stand upright as her life was siphoned out of her.
The only way to survive this duel was if she’d keep her daughter on the defensive with her lightsaber, and stun her enough somehow that she could make a hasty getaway. It was easier said than done. Even if Vaylin was inexperienced with the lightsaber compared to her, she left no openings for Senya to take advantage of. They had progressed from Senya controlling the flow of their battle with her lightsaber, to Vaylin dominating with her myriad Force talents, and finally to neither of them having any advantage.
“We don’t want you back,” Vaylin said, her singsong voice cloyingly sweet. Senya squirmed internally at her voice before drowning in the misery of the message.
A lump formed in Senya’s throat, a telltale sign that she was going to cry. Arcann might be more receptive to her trying to mend their estranged bond and accept her sincerity of wanting to fix her greatest mistake and regret, but Vaylin…if she was to be honest with herself, she couldn’t see Vaylin coming around anytime soon, and she wasn’t going to come around here in this hangar.
Senya knew she was being cornered into playing her daughter’s psychological game that was to get her emotional enough so that her concentration would falter. It was working, but she embraced the Force for a sliver of peace. Holding onto it comforted her and renewed her resolve. She pressed her attack with various crosswise slashes followed by powerful overhand blows and feints. Vaylin effortlessly countered them, but at least she couldn’t use her Force attacks for the moment.
The Force nagged at Senya frantically, like a toddler pestering at its parents for attention. An inferno erupted across her chest, distracting her. Is this one of Vaylin’s attacks?
Her moment of distraction wasn’t lost on her daughter. Vaylin embraced the opportunity and Senya felt herself rise off the ground with unseen hands pressing on her throat. Senya’s attention wasn’t on her current predicament. The Force desperately hounded her for her attention, and the pain grew unabated through her chest. It was as if she’d been stabbed in the chest and her attacker kept twisting the blade to dig at her insides.
She wasn’t sure which would kill her first: her daughter, or the strange heart ailment that was orchestrated by the Force. Black spots and tendrils devoured her vision, and Senya felt her brain starting to shut down from the lack of oxygen. If she was to die here, right now, the only regret she’d have would be not making amends with her son and daughter. Her eyes moved down to Vaylin, and it was difficult to focus on her daughter. What she did see caused fear to jolt through her. It wasn’t the fear of death, but the look on Vaylin’s face was disturbing, to say the least. She didn’t want to die with that visage being the last image she saw, and if she lived through their encounter, Senya could swear by all of the Old Gods that she’d see that face in her nightmares.
Deranged, frenzied and psychotic were the first three words that came to her mind. Vaylin’s eyes were opened wide, the whites clearly visible around the irises. The irises themselves were a sulfuric yellow and inflamed with crimson around the edges, making her eyes so demonic that they were upsetting to look at. But the worst was her mouth. She was smiling, her grin too wide for her face and growing progressively wider as she kept choking her mother to death.
“I’m sorry,” Senya wheezed out. Vaylin had made it clear that remorse was worthless to her, but Senya still felt that it was important for her daughter to at least hear her apology and remember it. She always resented herself for leaving, and she couldn’t change the past, but she could always make the future brighter. Even if Vaylin killed her today, she hoped that there would be a better future where Vaylin could become more level-headed, and that when she was ready, remember her mother’s final apology and find it within herself to forgive her mother. But she wasn’t sure if her daughter heard her over the hum of the lightsabers. The seconds passed, and her eyes grew increasingly dark. There was so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t have the breath to.
I’m sorry for leaving you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to get you the help you needed. I’m sorry I left you to be abused and used as a tool by your father. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you. I’m sorry I made you hate me.
Vaylin shouted at her, but she couldn’t discern the words of the rant through the din of the collapsing hangar. She didn’t have the strength to lift her head, but she had enough left in her to wearily glance up at her daughter. The psychotic grin was gone, replaced by a sneer. Her eyes were so maddened, so terrifying, and the worst part about them was that they hated.
“I hate you!” Vaylin screamed at her, the sentence cutting through the air like a knife. And despite the din, Senya heard it, and it broke her heart.
I’m sorry that I didn’t love you enough.
So she said the only two words that mattered as they encompassed all of her regrets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped out again and again with the remaining oxygen left in her lungs. Tears trickled down the corners of her eyes, hot on her cheeks. She hung her head and waited for her lungs to stop burning so that she could peacefully float away into the netherworld of the Force.
Her saviour came from an unsuspecting place.
The flagship swayed and shook, causing both of them to lose their balance. Durasteel railings, pipes and other structural components dropped from the ceiling and shuttles slid around on their docking pads. Senya felt the ground rush up to her, and she had never been so thankful to hit the cold durasteel of the floor with her face. She slowly got on all fours, breathed in lungfuls of air and coughed so hard that she threw up. When she stopped retching, she looked up, and to her horror, Vaylin was casually sauntering over, lightsaber in hand.
“He’s dying, he’s dying,” Vaylin chanted gleefully, skipping towards her as if she was a child in the royal gardens.
Wait, what?
The childish display was so inappropriate and unnerving that she froze, trying to make her shocked brain process this new development. The Force nagged at her again. This time, so much pain coursed through her chest that she doubled over and clutched at it with her hand.
Her son was dying.
Mirreah had declared in front of her and the Scions that she wanted justice, and not death, for her son. She wanted to believe it and place her faith in her Commander, but words were easy to tumble out of the mouth and promises were easy to slip on the tongue. She was old enough and had experienced enough betrayals to know that she couldn’t fully trust anyone. Not her friends, not her colleagues, not her children, and definitely not her former lover.
“No,” she gasped, having not fully recovered from the Force choke. She had already lost one son, and she was going to lose another if she couldn’t get to him fast enough.
Vaylin felt the urgency too, and Senya could see her relish in the fact that her mother couldn’t do anything about it without dealing with her first. “You couldn’t save Thexan, what makes you think you can save Arcann?” she spat.
The flagship lurched and wobbled, and shuttles and anything that wasn’t bolted down careened all over the hangar and into each other. Structural supports rained down from the ceiling. To Senya’s benefit, Vaylin had to fight the falling duracrete and collapsing wall pipes, giving her just enough time to recover and get back up on her feet.
Vaylin hurled rubble at her, and Senya caught them all midair and threw them all at her daughter at once. The Old Gods must’ve been looking out for her, because at that moment, the flagship veered unsuspectingly, causing the rubble to strike her daughter. With her daughter distracted, Senya took the opportunity to fling her into a shuttle, then against a steam pipe and finally, into a far wall.
It broke her heart to have to hurt her daughter, but it comforted her slightly that she could feel Vaylin through the Force, still fiery and very much alive. She ran as fast as she could to the nearest corridor, blocking the entrance with debris so she could buy herself some time and put distance in between her and Vaylin.
She couldn’t afford another confrontation with Vaylin right now. Arcann needed her, and every second wasted decreased his chance of survival. She ran through the mazelike passageways, periodically collapsing the ceiling in places so Vaylin would have to take time to blast her way through the wreckage. For all of the time she bought herself, it still wasn’t enough as she could hear crunching and clanging of rubble being pushed aside behind her.
She didn’t know where to go. Knights were made to memorize the mazelike schematics of various command ships, but they weren’t privy to the schematics of her son’s flagship until they were chosen to serve on it. She let the Force guide her in the right direction, believing that the more nagging it felt meant that the closer she was to the bridge.
Senya sprinted until her lungs burned and she tasted blood in her mouth. She occasionally encountered Knights making their way to the escape shuttles, some of whom were carrying their injured comrades, and she was surprised that they ignored her as she ran past. They were fanatical in serving Arcann, but sense hadn’t been absent for this lot; they knew their fight was lost, and were sensible enough to choose making a speedy escape over fighting a known fugitive. She also encountered the occasional squad of Skytroopers, and she made short work of them by smashing them into walls with the Force. She didn’t have the time to fight them with her lightsaber.
The bridge was just up ahead, but just before she could round the corner, the flagship swayed violently, sending her careening headfirst into a wall. White exploded through her vision and she heard a distant clang of metal hitting the floor. When her vision cleared, she found that a durasteel girder had fallen right where she had been running a split seconds ago. The ship shook again, and Senya took off, ignoring her headache.
The bridge’s entrance had been blocked by collapsed durasteel and duracrete piled up so high that Senya couldn’t see the transparisteel viewport that stretched from floor to ceiling. The amount of rubble she had to move looked daunting, but she had helped Mirreah move the Gravestone out of its mucky resting place so it was definitely doable. Plus, this time she had more of an urgency. Her son’s life depended on her.
With the Force, she grabbed at the wreckage and swept it aside, scattering some of the smaller scraps into the passageway behind her. With her determination, she didn’t even notice the difficulty. Once the blockage was cleared, she was relieved to find that she had clear passage through the rest of the bridge and up the stairs. She sprinted up the steps and was horrified and heartbroken at what she saw.
Arcann was crushed under slabs of duracrete from the chest down. His armour was stained with so much ash that it was more grey than white. Upon closer inspection, there were maroon stains on the fabric from dried blood as well. Her son’s cybernetic arm was broken off slightly above the elbow. The jagged ends of the break meant that the cut wasn’t from Mirreah’s lightsaber but from the falling duracrete. If being buried under duracrete shattered his cybernetic arm which was made from the finest and toughest Zakuulan steel, she didn’t want to think of how the rest of his body fared below the chest.
“No…” she breathed, her voice trailing off. A part of her was scared to assess the extent of the damage closely, but she quashed that fear when she realized through the Force that her son stubbornly clung onto life. She carefully walked over and knelt, cautious of the sparking wires that snaked dangerously around the floor. Her son’s visible eye was closed and the good half of his face was soiled with sweat, ash and dried blood. Brilliant purple bruises had already formed on his scalp, visible through the closely cropped hair. Some of his hair was caked with dried blood from cuts and scratches. She gently cupped the back of his head and lifted it slightly, and she was just about to feel for a pulse on instinct when she remembered that the metal brace went around the entirety of his neck. The faint but laboured rasping coming through the vents of the mask reassured her that her son was still very much alive.
She grabbed a handful of the fabric around his shoulders tightly and slowly hauled him out of the rubble. To her amazement, her son’s body easily slid out of the wreckage, but her breath caught in her throat and she fought back a scream of horror and anguish when she saw the charred slash across his chest. Mirreah’s lightsaber probably cut through a rib or two at the bottom of her son’s ribcage, and from the depth of the wound, she probably had cut into his diaphragm if not his lungs.
Instead of fighting back a scream from horror, Senya now fought back a scream fueled by rage. If Arcann died, she’d return to the Outlander with a murderous vengeance, and for all of Mirreah’s martial prowess, the latter wouldn’t stand a chance against the fury of a mother who’d lost her son.
Stay calm, Senya told herself. She took several deep breaths and pulled the rest of her son out of the duracrete, relieved to find that the rest of him was intact. She carefully propped him upright to lean on a duracrete slab. Arcann stirred but didn’t wake, and she softly cupped his good cheek and turned his face to hers.
“I wanted to save you,” Senya softly said, heartbroken. Tears blurred her vision, and she felt the familiar lump forming in her throat and her nose getting stuffy from being on the brink of crying. She rapidly blinked away the tears until her vision cleared, not caring that they streamed down her face. Looking closer at the chest wound revealed that there was no blood, which was characteristic of lightsaber injuries, but plasma pooled at the bottom of the rut. A quick inspection of her son informed her that his right arm and left leg looked alright but his right knee was terribly swollen.
Probably a shattered knee, Senya guessed. If she wasn’t pressed for time, she could’ve made a splint from the rebar scattered about.
The Force grew cold and dark, icy and unforgiving like a harsh night in the dead of winter. Senya looked up, but she didn’t have to, to know that her daughter had finally cornered them. There would be no escape for her and her son, not until she defeated her daughter. That would be more trying that it already was, now that she had Arcann to care for and protect. Somehow she knew that Vaylin wasn’t above using her dying brother as leverage against her.
A despicable thought crossed her mind. Vaylin would kill her brother if the action meant that she could inflict grief on her mother. If they were going to have one final battle on this deteriorating flagship, she’d have to kill her daughter to save her son.
“Too late,” Vaylin taunted, disdain in her voice. “You’re always too late.”
“Vaylin, please,” Senya begged, the lump getting more obstructive in her throat. “What happened to Thexan, Arcann…I should’ve stayed.”
She hated how her voice warbled and how weak and hopeless it made her sound. If she could rewind time and go back two decades, she would’ve chosen to stay, and maybe, just maybe, her children wouldn’t have ended up as they are now, with Thexan dead, Arcann dying, and Vaylin being so hateful and psychotic, and maybe the galaxy wouldn’t be in such a convoluted mess.
Back then, she’d thought that she’d be happy and that she, Valkorion, and their children would have a bright and prosperous future together as a loving family. He had loved her dearly and she had loved him in return, but once their twins were born, the kind, benevolent person she knew started eroding away to reveal something more sinister underneath. She believed in parenting through nurturing and love but he believed in parenting through neglect and fear. No, what he did couldn’t be called parenting. While he never beat the children when she was still with them, he’d get his Knights and Exarchs to beat them while he’d psychologically abuse them. She’d stand up to his subordinates and stop them, and Valkorion had started psychologically abusing her too.
She wanted to deny it, that he’d used her, and that their relationship had been a sham, but seeing him and his subordinates abuse the children woke her up from her naiveté. She’d tried to leave, but her children chose to stay, to prove that they were worthy of the throne, and worthy of their father’s love. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that Valkorion was using them as tools, and that they were fighting a long and losing battle, as the ‘love’ that they chased was always held just out of reach by their father. It was Valkorion’s carrot-and-stick method to keep them in line, and they wised up to it too late.
If you leave with them, I’ll have you hunted down. It was the last thing he’d said to her just before she left in order to scare her to stay in line. She would’ve defied him, as she always had, and take her chances with the children if they’d agree leaving with her. Her former lover was a master manipulator, trying to browbeat her into staying, but she was tired of the abusive games he played.
“You were weak. You left us,” her daughter accused with derision. And then her facial expression softened, and she quietly added, “You left me.”
The sadness in Vaylin’s voice made Senya choke back a sob. It was as if Vaylin admitted to her through her sentiments that she did love her. Once.
But if Vaylin was willing to convey that she did love her mother, then maybe…
Senya eyes widened as it dawned on her that Vaylin and her brothers had barely acknowledged her existence as children because it had been an elaborate ploy between the three of them to hide their love for their mother and show indifference on the surface in order to trick their father into believing that they could reject affection. It hadn’t worked, and the torment they must’ve gone through to hide the fact that they loved their mother for so long to keep up the ruse for years was… she couldn’t bear to think of the emotional toll that must’ve taken on anyone to play such an evil game, especially for a child.
They had chosen to endure the hardship, secretly and silently hoping that their mother could catch on and play along, only that she’d left instead. She’d done everything wrong, but the Lady Scyva gave her the chance of making things right, at least as right as they could be.
“I’m here now,” Senya reassured her quietly, saying each syllable with much effort. She couldn’t say it any louder, not when her throat threatened to close up from fighting the tears.
Vaylin’s Force signature, which had grown softer and gentler from its usual coldness, didn’t change, as if she was contemplating her options of leaving with her mother and injured brother, or casting them aside.
Please, she silently begged to the Lady Scyva. Please let her come with us. You’ve given me the opportunity to do better by my family. Please don’t let it all be for nothing.
As soon as she finished her prayer, the Force around her grew colder, darker and more tempestuous than before. The storm had resumed with a renewed fury, powered by bitterness and loathing. All of a sudden, the harsh cold from her daughter’s Force aura now turned into a firestorm, hot and uncontrollable.
And that was when Senya knew she failed. It was as if she’d been thrown into an abyss. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, and she couldn't breathe.
“I’ll never be what you want,” Vaylin retorted, igniting her lightsaber. Senya felt her heart shatter. Her efforts have all been for nothing, and now everything was worse. Arcann was most likely going to perish, and her daughter, alive and well, had turned her back to her and was never coming back.
She had time to cry and grieve later. She watched as Vaylin sprinted and jumped, and she ignited her own blade to protect her son, tightening her grip on the hilt and readying herself for another deadly battle with her daughter. She heard a pained grunt from behind her, and before she knew it, Vaylin flew backwards towards the entrance of the bridge.
“Why? WHY?” her daughter howled in disbelief.
“Vaylin. There’s hope for you,” Senya begged. She then looked at her son, who had stood up, his good hand gripping his chest. “For both of you.”
She had to try, reach out to her daughter even as their time was running out. “Come with me,” she implored, the unsaid please being a final attempt to reach out to her wayward daughter.
A new bombardment from the Eternal Fleet shook the flagship, setting off a new series of explosions on the bridge. A large durasteel truss collapsed right on her daughter, and the falling duracrete and other twisted metal blocked their only exit.
“Vaylin!” Senya screamed. She desperately scrabbled for her daughter’s presence using the Force and was immensely relieved to find that she was alive and making a rushed escape, and not crushed to death the by truss as she had thought. The bridge shook from another series of explosions, and she noticed movement at the corner of her eyesight. Arcann had fallen onto his knees either from the pain or from losing his balance, and Senya knelt down, looping her arm around his upper back and hoisting up to a standing position as gently as she could.
She hobbled with her son towards the blocked exit. She felt him struggle to breathe, the ragged breaths sounding harsh coming in and out of the filters of the mask. Although she staggered with the added weight, she knew that Arcann was the one trying to keep up. But they couldn’t go any slower. They still had to move the rubble blocking their exit and find their way to a hangar. She recalled the Knights escaping to the hangars when she was making her way to the bridge. There wasn’t even a guarantee that she and her son could find a functioning shuttle even if they made it to the closest hangar before the flagship succumbed.
Senya changed the grip on the fabric of her son’s shoulder, and he grunted in pain. She apologized and changed it to something that was more comfortable for him, but made her grip on him slightly weaker. She lifted her free hand, moving the rubble aside effortlessly with the Force before looping his good arm around her neck. With the exit unobstructed, she stumbled with her son to the cool air of the passageways.
The passageways hadn’t been spared from the effects of the bombardment, but they were relatively undamaged compared to the disaster that was the bridge. The cool air blowing on her face was heavenly and rejuvenating, giving her a little more energy to stumble with her son. Just as she had relied on the Force to lead her to the bridge, she relied on it once more to direct her towards the nearest hangar, praying to Scyva that there would be a functioning shuttle that they could use to escape.
The Force led her through a different set of passageways, since she and Vaylin had destroyed the ones she’d run through on the way here. Occasionally, they’d came across the mangled bodies of defeated Skytroopers and dead Knights.
She tightened her grip on Arcann, and he didn’t make a sound. She glanced at him. He was conscious, but barely. Rivulets of sweat snaked their way down his scalp and the laboured breathing seemed quieter. She felt him slump against her, and fear jolted through her for a second until she heard him wheeze steadily. He was still awake, but was extremely weak, so she dragged him until he had enough energy to bear some of his own weight and limp again.
She had no idea how long they’d walked like this, with her dragging him and him hobbling when he had enough energy. All of the corridors looked the same, although the Force informed her that they were close to their destination – wherever that was. She heard her son exhale and she didn’t hear him take his next breath. She looked at him desperately, recognising unconsciousness. “Arcann. Stay with me. Where is the nearest hangar?” Senya pleaded urgently.
He didn’t answer. Adjusting her hold on him so that she could grip him securely, she Force sprinted, taking care to make the journey as gentle as possible for him. Her surroundings blurred, and she took a split second to glimpse at him. He hadn’t awakened, but she could hear the quieted gasps coming in and out of the mask.
They both arrived at the hangar, and not a second too soon. There were two shuttles left, much to Senya’s relief and delight, and she prayed to Scyva that the closest one was functional. Explosions occurred frequently, and the hangar shook and swayed, making Senya and Arcann careen left and right. Senya Force sprinted again, avoiding the worst of the embers and wreckage that showered down on them. She stumbled in boarding the shuttle, still not used to supporting the full weight of her son.
Once in the shuttle, she strapped Arcann down securely into the seat behind the pilot’s chair, and she slumped down into the pilot’s chair herself. Force sprinting had exhausted her mentally and physically, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. She grit her teeth and pulled up close to the dashboard, slicing into the channel used by the Alliance. Please work…
Had it been an Alliance ship, she wouldn’t have had to slice into the comms. But since this was an enemy shuttle, she had no choice but to use precious time to break into the comms. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She half expected it to not work and was pleasantly surprised when she found herself in the middle of a conversation.
“– our way to the Gravestone. We waited for Senya as long as we could,” Lana regretfully relayed to the others.
“I’m alive, but I won’t be joining you,” Senya quietly said. As soon as her words left her mouth, Senya knew she had made a grave mistake. She was escaping with her son in tow, and there was no way that Mirreah would allow them both back on Odessen. And even if she did, there’s no telling what the rest of the Alliance members would do to her son. Especially Koth.
It would’ve been better if she’d just eavesdropped on the open channel and secretly escaped the Alliance and the Eternal Fleet, and having both parties believe that her and her son had both died on the flagship. Mirreah, Lana and the other Force sensitives could sense Force signatures and might not believe it, but her son’s Force aura was weak and virtually undetectable from being so far away and from him lingering so close to death, and she could conceal her own Force signature to make them believe that they’d both perished until they were far away enough in Wild Space…
“What do you mean? Where are you?” Mirreah cut in, concerned.
Senya didn’t have to see Mirreah’s face to know that the worry for her was sincere. But still, she had her son with her, and after going through so much to save him, she wasn’t going to deliver him to his death at the hands of the Alliance.
Well you’ve said too much already, she mused. Might as well tell them that you are taking Arcann away to rehabilitate him so that we can be allies and not enemies for the wars to come.
Trust had worn thin in the Alliance, and Senya believed that although she couldn’t fully trust Mirreah with the safety of her son, a part of her felt that if she was to leave the Alliance, it was better she left for an honest reason than for Mirreah to discover later that she’d been lied to. Senya had a gut feeling that they were going to cross paths in the future, and it was better to leave with a better impression than a poor one.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m in Arcann’s personal shuttle. He’s with me,” she admitted, pressing the buttons on the dashboard to prepare for takeoff.
“Do not betray me, Senya,” Mirreah warned.
If her voice didn’t convince Senya, the subtle shift of the Force made her doubt herself. Mirreah’s Force signature was like a bright light, peaceful, kind, comforting and good, but Senya felt a colder undercurrent underneath the calm exterior. It wasn’t like the coldness associated with Vaylin which was linked with a disregard for humanity, and it wasn’t a feeling of cold akin to brutal winters. It was a vast silence that was unfeeling, taciturn and emotionless.
Senya had always been able to deduce one’s intentions and emotions from reading their Force aura, but here was a Force aura that was a great expanse of nothing but held a promise for darkness. Senya had been so used to Mirreah taking the moral high ground and being rational that sometimes she had forgotten that there had to be darkness for a bright light to shine. She didn’t want to face Mirreah’s nastier side, so she decided to play the soothing relations game. She got up from the pilot’s chair and walked over to her son.
“That was never my intention, but I must do right by my family,” she continued, gently placing a hand on his. He looked up at her, defeated and exhausted, and she looked down in concern. Their gazes met and she held it for a second before stepping towards her chair. She contemplated quickly, wisely choosing the right words to say so that she could prove to Mirreah and the others that Arcann was capable of atonement, and that she was capable of helping him walk the right path. “He saved my life. He can be redeemed. Let me help Arcann become the man he was meant to be.”
The shuttle was now prepared for takeoff, and she pressed a button. The shuttle shuddered to life and inched towards the magnetic shields and towards freedom from the deteriorating flagship.
“No! I won’t let you do this,” Koth protested vehemently. Senya couldn’t care less for what he had to say.
“I’m taking him,” Senya announced, more towards Koth than to the other Alliance members. She cut communications and guided the ship out of the hangar, and eased the shuttle into a gradual acceleration away from the flagship that looked like it might explode at any moment, and far enough from the Eternal Fleet’s turbolaser bombardments.
But she wasn’t the only one accelerating. She felt the same undercurrent in the Force again as Mirreah’s own shuttle caught up to hers. Senya’s grip tightened around the controls so hard that her knuckles were white from the strain. A part of her feared Mirreah and what she was capable of, but her fear for her son quashed the fear for her former Commander.
“She’s in your firing range, Commander. Shoot them down!” Koth commanded. Senya wondered what kind of punishment Mirreah had for him for insubordination. One does not simply give commands to their Commander.
“You’ll kill them both,” Theron warned.
“Senya, what are you doing?” Lana asked, trying to reason with her.
“Saving my son,” she answered confidently. As much as she valued Lana, Mirreah, and Theron’s friendships, her son was of upmost importance to her.
And that was all she cared about right now.
The uneasy coldness filled the distance between their shuttles, growing thicker and more uncomfortable with each passing second as she awaited her fate. Either Mirreah was going to spare them or was going to shoot them down on the spot. She didn’t want to attempt the jump to hyperspace to escape because that would guarantee Mirreah immediately following her into Wild Space and killing her and her son once they jumped out of hyperspace.
The tension got so thick that Senya had to fight squirming on the edge of her seat, but the coldness was abruptly replaced by Mirreah’s regular Force signature, and she knew that Mirreah had chosen to be kind.
“I won’t shoot an unarmed ship. Arcann’s no longer a threat,” Mirreah declared to her crew. Her voice softened, and she added, “I’m trusting you, Senya.”
She had to admire Mirreah, that she was willing to trust someone who didn’t trust her. And Mirreah knew it, too, and she chose to take the gamble anyways. Senya knew that there was no guarantee that her son wouldn’t cause Mirreah trouble down the future or even cripple the Alliance.
She might not be able to dictate what Arcann’s choices are for the future, but she would do her damn best to make sure he didn’t fall back onto the same dark path that he had walked for years.
“Thank you, Commander. Your mercy will be remembered,” Senya answered gratefully, pulling a lever to jump into hyperspace. She pressed a few more buttons to cut communications and to activate the cloaking device for their shuttle. She minimized her Force aura as much as she could and walked over to check on her son. She knelt down to caress his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped to her before passing out again.
“It’s alright, son,” she replied softly, her voice cracking. You can cry later. You have more work to do, the pragmatic voice inside her head reminded her.
She walked back up to the pilot’s chair and sat down. She scrambled the comms so that the Alliance and the Eternal Empire’s technicians would have a difficult time slicing in and programmed the hyperspace route the shuttle will take through Wild Space.
Venturing into the Core Worlds or even the Outer Rim were not options – too many patrol ships. She had to go far into Wild Space, far from the border worlds of the Eternal Empire. She had patrolled on some of these worlds, and there had been rumours of other planets and their locations past their Empire’s borders, but she wasn’t exactly sure where they were, and if they were developed well enough to be able to offer extensive medical care for her son.
There were plenty of other factors to consider. She had to stay away from all major space ports, shadowports, and patrol ships. She’d seen the vast network Lana had and what information she’d been privy too, and information on them being seen by a patrol or landing on any port will eventually get back to her. In addition, she had to stay away from known Eternal Fleet patrol areas. The Fleet patrolled areas of Wild Space and known hyperspace lanes, and she had to count on luck to avoid running into a patrol unit.
There was one place she could try. Biting her lip, Senya pressed the coordinates for travel.
With their destination figured out, Senya turned her full attention to her son. He was still out cold, the good side of his face slick with sweat, and she could feel his suffering radiating out of him. She debated whether or not to unstrap him from the seat and transfer him to a bed in the sleeping quarters, but she decided against it for fear of exacerbating his injuries. She could, however, pull the lever beside the seat to help him recline so she could better treat him.
Once the chair was fully reclined, Senya took the time to better evaluate her son’s wounds. His lightsaber wound was blackened on the edges, but in places where the carbonized flesh had come off, the flesh was red and plasma pooled in the ridges. The Force bubbled within her with the urge to heal, and she gingerly hovered her hands above the charred flesh and allowed it to flow from her to him. She imagined it mending broken bones, repairing internal organs and knitting torn flesh back together. She closed her eyes and concentrated until she felt the Force fizzle out.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was still unconscious and she still felt his pain, and his chest wound was still red and inflamed, but it looked better than it did several minutes ago. Senya headed to the refresher, praying that the medicine cabinet had a fully stocked medpac, and a lot of kolto patches. Were pain pills and anti-inflammatory pills too much to wish for as well?
All shuttles and ships belonging to the Eternal Empire must carry medpacs by law, but she didn’t know if they’ve been used and if so, if they’ve been replenished. She swung the medicine cabinet door open, and a red and silver box caught her attention. She breathed a sigh of relief, almost giddy with gratefulness to the Lady Scyva. Sitting on the middle shelf was an unused medpac, and the top and bottom shelves was stuffed full with kolto patches in their unopened packaging. There were two generic anti-inflammatory pill bottles sitting in the upper left corner of the cabinet, their seals intact.
Senya used the Force to carry all of the supplies to her son at once, depositing them in a heap at the side of his chair. She opened the medpac and felt like a pauper who’d just won the lottery. There was a pair of scissors, a roll of medical tape, a medisensor, some more pills, antiseptic patches, gauze pads and bandages, more kolto patches, and a pair of medical-grade rubber gloves. All unopened. There were stim-shots, but Senya dared not use those. She knew what they contained based on the descriptions, but she didn’t know how to use them to stabilize her son.
To her disappointment, there were no bone stabilizers for her son’s legs. At the bottom of the medpac were two cold compresses, but they hadn’t been frozen. Senya took those two and stuffed them into the back of the freezer in the shuttle’s kitchenette before returning to her son.
She placed the pill bottles aside for Arcann to take when he woke up. She peeled off her Knight’s gloves and replaced them with the medical pair. With the pair of scissors she found earlier, she slowly cut away at the charred fabric around the wound until she saw a sizeable patch of healthy skin. The process was long and arduous; the hardened armour on her son’s chest was almost too much for the medpac’s scissors to handle, and she took great care not to accidentally poke the gash or cut healthy skin.
She picked up a package containing antiseptic patches. I hope these aren’t alcohol-based. She tore open the packaging and sniffed at the contents suspiciously, immediately relieved to know that they didn’t have the characteristic scent of alcohol. She carefully dabbed them in and around her son’s wound, occasionally checking his status with the medisensor.
Once the gash was disinfected, Senya opened the kolto patches and placed them side-by-side until they covered the entirety of the wound, holding them together and in place with medical tape. She wrapped the gash up with the gauze bandages, gently lifting Arcann up with the Force whenever she had to wind the bandage around his back. She tried to wrap the bandage around him as lightly as she could so that he wouldn’t have trouble breathing.
The medisensor indicated that her son was slightly better, and she went to treat his other injuries. She mended his broken ribs, his knee, the leg fractures and the various cuts and bruises with the Force. She stepped into the refresher, grabbing one of the towels and wetting it under the sink. She used the wet towel to wipe off the sweat, dirt and dried blood off of her son’s face and scalp. Then Senya had an idea. She stepped back into the refresher, taking the other towel and retrieving the semi-frozen cold compresses from the freezer.
She had repaired his shattered knee but the swelling needed time to subside. She wrapped the clean towel around his knee, placed the cold compresses on both sides of the joint and secured them in place with the used towel and medical tape.
Senya stood up to observe her handiwork. Arcann was asleep, but the medisensor showed that although his status was a large improvement from before, his condition was nowhere close to stabilized. Her son needed a hospital.
Senya walked to the refresher and discarded the gloves. She washed her hands and splashed water onto her face to wash away the sweat and grime from the day’s battles. She looked up to the mirror, water dripping from the bottom of her chin.
She almost didn’t recognize the person staring back. She looked a decade older, with black rings around her eyes and more pronounced wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth. She had bruises on her forehead, and her eyes widened at the bruises on her neck. Her eyes, which had always been a clear sky blue, looked weary, as if they’d seen too much in this life.
The observation wasn’t wrong. She had seen too much in this life.
The lump started forming again in her throat. With no more towels to dry her face and the tears that started budding from the corners of her eyes, Senya rubbed her face into the crook of her elbow before heading back out to sit in the captain’s chair.
They still had hours to go before they reached their destination, and Senya wasn’t even sure the place existed. What if it didn’t? Were they both doomed to aimlessly wander Wild Space until they ran out of supplies?
The hopelessness of the situation finally crashed into Senya as if she was back in the bridge and was being buried under rubble in Arcann’s place. Her son was dying, and they were headed to a place whose existence was only a rumour. And even if it existed, did it have a hospital that could treat him? What if the doctors refused treatment? Even if they did treat him, how was she going to pay for it? How were they both going to evade both the Alliance and her daughter?
She wasn’t even sure if her daughter was alive. The last time she sensed Vaylin’s presence was at the start of her daughter’s escape from the bridge, but she’d been so focused on getting her son to a shuttle that she didn’t try reaching out to her with the Force again. And she wasn’t going to attempt it now. She didn’t want to know her daughter’s fate, and if Vaylin survived, she didn’t want Vaylin to find out where they were through the Force. And even if Vaylin was alive, her daughter didn’t want her. In the past, Vaylin shunned her as part of a ruse but now her contempt and disgust were sincere.
She had already lost one son, was probably going to lose another, and in a way, had lost her daughter.
Exhausted and overcome with sorrow, Senya buried her face into her hands and finally let herself cry.