(POV: Ember)
The gentle hum of the ship's engines created a constant backdrop to the stillness that had settled over their small quarters. Ember sat on the edge of the narrow bunk, her crimson skin casting warm shadows in the dim lighting as she carefully ran her fingers through Cherry's auburn hair. The younger girl's breathing had finally begun to slow, the tension that seemed permanently etched into her small shoulders gradually melting away under her sister's touch.
Their ship—if it could even be called that—was a salvaged transport vessel meant for perhaps three to five passengers at most. The previous owners had clearly pushed it well beyond its intended lifespan. Scorch marks decorated portions of the hull, and the ventilation system wheezed with every cycle. But it was theirs now, or at least it would be until they reached their destination. It was freedom, however short.
Ember's singular working eye drifted closed for a moment as she fought against the overwhelming cascade of sensory information that often flooded her consciousness. Unlike Cherry, who was born completely without eyes like their heritage dictated, Ember retained one functioning eye—a cruel genetic lottery that meant she experienced the world through both conventional vision and the Force sight that came naturally to their mixed bloodline. Through her Force sight, she could perceive the environment around them in ways that normal vision could never provide. The walls of their cramped quarters appeared translucent, revealing the inner workings of the ship's systems, the gentle pulse of energy flowing through conduits, and the faint life signatures of the few other creatures aboard. But overlaid on top of this ethereal perception was the harsh reality of normal sight—the scratched metal walls, the flickering lights, the stains on the threadbare bedding.
The combination was often overwhelming. While her Miraluka ancestry allowed her to "see" Force radiating off living beings, distinguished by their characteristic auras, her remaining eye insisted on processing the crude physical reality simultaneously. It was like trying to focus on two different conversations happening at once, and it frequently left her with splitting headaches that could last for hours.
Cherry shifted slightly in her sleep, and Ember's attention focused on her sister's face. The fabric wrap that covered Cherry's eye sockets was one of the few possessions they had managed to bring with them from the laboratory. Like all Miraluka, Cherry had been born with only vestigial eye sockets, and the cloth served a practical purpose acting like a focus and helping Cherry improve her sight.
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"The Empire will be different" Ember murmured, her voice barely audible above the ship's ambient noise. She knew Cherry wasn't fully asleep yet; her sister had always been a light sleeper, hyperaware of their surroundings even in rest. "Once we reach Sith space everything will change. No more experiments."
"Do you really think it will be better?" Cherry's voice was soft, muffled slightly by the wrap around her head. Her words carried the weight of someone far too young to sound so weary.
Ember continued her gentle ministrations, her fingers working through a small tangle in Cherry's hair. "It has to be."
Through her Force sight, Ember could perceive the emotional aura that surrounded her sister. It was atleast one positive of what happened, both of them could see what her sister called 'auras' around anyone and even gauge their emotional states. Cherry's aura flickered with shades of blue and gray.
The younger girl was quiet for a long moment, and Ember could sense her sister's internal struggle through the Force. Cherry had no memories before their captivity began and Ember was worse, she knew Cherry was born in the lab so it was all she knew in many ways. The sterile confinement was the only life she could clearly remember.
"Do you think..." Cherry's voice grew even smaller. "Do you think they're looking for us?"
The question hung in the recycled air between them. Ember had wondered the same thing countless times since their escape three days ago. Their departure hadn't exactly been subtle—security systems disabled, blast doors forced open, a stolen shuttle that had undoubtedly been tracked until they managed to transfer to this larger vessel. But she couldn't let Cherry see her own fears.
"Let them look" Ember said with more confidence than she felt. "By the time they figure out where we've gone, we'll be under Imperial protection."
"But you're worried too" Cherry observed quietly. It wasn't a question.
Ember's hand stilled for a moment in her sister's hair. There was no point in lying their shared abilities made deception nearly impossible between them. Cherry could sense the undercurrents of emotion that Ember tried to keep buried, just as Ember could perceive her sister's fears.
"No" Ember said softly, but the word carried little conviction.
"Liar" Cherry whispered, but there was no accusation in her voice. Instead, there was something that might have been gratitude or appreciation for Ember's attempt to shield her from worry, even when it was impossible to do so completely.
Ember resumed stroking her sister's hair as Cherry's breathing began to deepen. Through her sight, she watched as her sister's emotional aura gradually shifted and settled. The anxious blues and grays slowly gave way to deeper blue. The flame-like quality of Cherry's Force presence, which had been flickering with nervous energy settled into the steady rhythm of rest.
Only when she was certain Cherry was fully asleep did Ember allow herself to acknowledge the full weight of her own fears. The Empire they were traveling toward was powerful, but it was also ruthless. There was no guarantee that their blood would be seen as an asset rather than a liability. And even if they were accepted, there was no assurance that life in the Empire would be any freer than their captivity had been.
But it had to be better.
Ember carefully extracted herself from the bunk, moving slowly to avoid disturbing Cherry's sleep. Her sister's Force presence remained steady and calm, no longer flickering with the anxiety that had plagued her during their waking hours. The sight brought Ember a small measure of peace.
She stood in the cramped quarters for a moment, extending her Force sight throughout the ship to survey their surroundings. she could sense life signatures scattered throughout the vessel's corridors and compartments, sighing with relief that they were completely alone except for a handful of small creatures—rat-like vermin whose bright Force outlines skittered through the ventilation systems and cargo holds. The creatures posed no threat, merely opportunistic stowaways like herself and Cherry.
Satisfied that they remained undetected, Ember began to hum softly to herself—an old melody she barely remembered that one of their handlers used to hum, something that might have been a lullaby once. The familiar tune helped steady her nerves as she quietly left their small quarters and made her way toward the cockpit. She wanted to check their estimated arrival time at their destination.
The narrow corridor stretched ahead of her, dimly lit by the ship's emergency lighting system. The walls were scored with the patina of age and countless repairs, and the air recycling system wheezed with each cycle. But it was functional, and more importantly, it was taking them away from their past toward what she hoped would be a better future.
She had made it perhaps halfway down the corridor when the world suddenly tilted sideways.
Without warning, Ember's vision spun violently. Her Force sight and conventional vision blurred together in a nauseating kaleidoscope of sensory overload. The ship's corridors seemed to twist and fold in on themselves, and she stumbled heavily against the nearest wall, her shoulder striking the metal with enough force to leave a bruise.
The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she coughed reflexively, her hand coming up to catch the crimson droplets that spattered across her palm. Even in the dim lighting, she could see the dark red stains against her skin. Her heart rate spiked as she recognized the familiar symptoms.
"Not now" she whispered desperately, pressing her back against the wall for support. "Please, not now."
But her body wasn't listening to her pleas. Another coughing fit wracked her frame, producing more blood that she tried to catch in her cupped hand. The combination of her Force sight and her remaining conventional vision was becoming increasingly unstable, feeding back on itself in a cascade of sensory chaos that threatened to overwhelm her completely.
Ember pressed the hand covered in blood over her eye patch, applying pressure to the area where her eye socket is. It was something taught to her during their captivity that physically blocking her vision helped reduce the conflicting input and allowed her Force sight to stabilize. The pressure against her eye socket was uncomfortable, but it did help. The spinning sensation began to slow, though her legs still felt unsteady.
Using her clean hand to guide herself along the wall, she began making her way down the corridor again, this time with much more deliberate steps. Each movement was carefully planned, each breath controlled to minimize another coughing episode. The bathroom wasn't far she just had to make it a little further.
The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of her, but finally, she reached the small refresher unit. Her clean hand found the activation panel, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. The tiny space was barely large enough for one person, but it would provide the privacy she needed.
Once inside, Ember pressed her clean hand against the wall, fingers searching for a specific section that looked slightly different from the surrounding panels. After a moment of searching, she found the right spot and applied pressure. A small hidden drawer materialized in the wall with a soft mechanical whir, perfectly concealed among the ship's standard fixtures. Inside was a single sealed bag containing the most valuable cargo on the entire vessel to Ember.
Her hands were shaking now, whether from the medical episode or from anxiety she couldn't tell. She fumbled with the bag's closure, her fingers made clumsy by the lingering effects of her condition. Finally, she managed to extract a small lockbox, its surface marked with standard marking.
'Subject 3-2A.1'
The lockbox opened with a soft click, revealing its precious contents: two remaining vials of clear liquid and a single autoinjector device. The autoinjector was a standard hypospray unit—a medical instrument that used compressed air to inject medication through the skin without needles. It was the kind of device that would have been found in any medical facility, though these particular medications were far from standard.
Ember's hands were steadier now, focused by necessity. She selected one of the two remaining vials and carefully inserted it into the autoinjector. The device accepted the vial with a soft click, and a small indicator light confirmed that it was properly loaded and ready for use.
She placed the hypospray against her thigh and activated with a gentle hiss of compressed air, delivering its contents into her system without pain or the risk of contamination that would come with traditional needles. Almost immediately, she could feel the medication beginning to work. The spinning sensation that had plagued her vision started to subside, and her breathing became easier.
After placing the autoinjector back in the lockbox, Ember's fingers searched deeper into the container until they found what she was looking for, a small collection of metallic cylindrical objects, each about the length of her finger. She counted six of them, small silver devices that resembled miniature batons or sticks. She pocketed five of the devices in her shorts, their weight barely noticeable against the lightweight fabric. The sixth one she held carefully in her hands, examining its smooth metallic surface. Three subtle seam lines ran around its circumference, marking the places where the device was designed to be activated.
With practiced movements, Ember cracked the cylinder three times along these middle seams. Each crack produced a soft mechanical click, and she could see tiny vents opening along the device's surface. She placed one end between her lips and took a careful drag.
The effect was immediate and profound. As she inhaled whatever vapor the device produced and slowly exhaled, she felt her Force sight and conventional vision begin to equalize for the first time in hours. The conflicting sensory input that had been tearing at her consciousness suddenly harmonized, allowing her to use both forms of perception freely without the overwhelming feedback that usually plagued her. For a brief time, she could see the world as it truly was without the nauseating overlay of competing ways of seeing.
Ember moved to stand in front of the small sink and began washing the blood from her hand. The warm water felt good against her skin, and she took her time cleaning away every trace of the episode. Once her hand was clean, she carefully removed her eyepatch and examined it under the light. Dark stains marked the fabric where her bloodied palm had pressed against it. She washed the eyepatch thoroughly, working the blood out of the fabric as best she could. When she placed it back over her eye socket, it was still slightly damp, but clean. The moisture felt cool against her skin, a small reminder of how close she had come to a complete breakdown.
Satisfied that she had erased all evidence of her condition, Ember secured the lockbox back in its place and exited the refresher. The corridor stretched ahead of her, but instead of returning to their quarters, she made her way toward the opposite end of the ship. A maintenance ladder led upward to the cockpit, and she climbed it slowly, still feeling the lingering effects of both the medication and the vapor she had inhaled. Her movements were more coordinated now, her vision stable and clear.
The cockpit was small but functional, designed for a crew of perhaps two or three beings. Most of the ship's systems appeared to be automated, which explained how she and Cherry had been able to operate it with minimal technical knowledge. As she emerged into the cramped space, a familiar sound greeted her—the electronic beeping and chirping of an astromech droid.
The small cylindrical unit was plugged into one of the ship's interface ports, its dome head swiveling to focus on her as she approached. Its optical sensors glowed with a soft blue light, and it emitted a series of rapid beeps and whistles that she recognized as Binary—the droid language used throughout the galaxy.
Ember had spent enough time around various droids during their captivity to pick up at least a basic understanding of their communication patterns. She paused for a moment, listening to the astromech's sequence of sounds and mentally translating what it was trying to tell her.
"Location Esta---. Ready for Hyperspace ----"
"Good work" she said softly understanding most of what it said while reaching out to pat the astromech's dome head. The droid responded with a pleased warble that needed no translation.
Ember took one last drag from the metallic cylinder before dropping it into a small trash receptacle built into the cockpit's console. The device had served its purpose, providing the temporary relief she needed to function normally. She settled into the main pilot's seat, which adjusted automatically to accommodate her smaller frame.
The viewscreen in front of her displayed a complex array of information ranging from star charts, navigation data, fuel readings, and system diagnostics. Most of it was incomprehensible to her, a bewildering collection of numbers and symbols that might as well have been written in an ancient language.
After staring at the screen for several long moments, Ember turned slightly in her chair to face the astromech unit. "I have no idea what I'm looking at" she admitted. "How much fuel do we have for jumps?"
The astromech responded with a single, clear beep followed by a brief warble the droid equivalent of displaying one finger.
"One what?" Ember asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer. "One more jump?"
The astromech's affirmative whistle confirmed her fears. They had enough fuel for exactly one more hyperspace jump, which meant they had better make it count. If they made a mistake or ended up in the wrong system, they would be stranded.
Ember sighed, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her shoulders. "Please drive to the jump location and proceed when ready" she told the droid. She had no idea if she was using the correct terminology, but the astromech seemed to understand.
The little droid immediately went to work, its various appendages extending to interface with multiple ship systems simultaneously. Screens around the cockpit came alive with new information, and Ember could feel a subtle vibration as the ship's engines began to change their output. Through the main viewport, she watched as stars began to shift position slowly, indicating that they were altering course.
She leaned back in the pilot's chair and watched space drift past as the ship maneuvered toward whatever coordinates the astromech had calculated. The view was hypnotic distant stars like scattered diamonds against the absolute black of space, nebulae painting faint colors across the cosmic canvas.
After a few minutes of watching their slow progress, Ember reached into her pocket and extracted another of the metallic cylinders. This time she cracked it only once along its middle seam, creating a gentler activation than before. She placed it between her lips and drew slowly, savoring the way it kept her vision systems in harmony.
Time seemed to move differently in the vastness of space. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as the ship continued its course toward their jump point. Ember found herself thinking about Cherry, probably still sleeping peacefully in their quarters.
The astromech droid continued its methodical work, various appendages extending and retracting as it interfaced with the ship's navigation systems. Ember found the rhythmic beeping and whirring oddly comforting a constant reminder that they weren't entirely alone in the void.
She was just beginning to feel a sense of calm when the astromech suddenly emitted a sharp, urgent warning beep that made her sit up straight in the pilot's chair. The droid's dome head swiveled frantically between different sensor displays, its optical sensors flashing a rapid sequence of red and blue lights.
"What is it?" Ember asked, though she suspected the answer wouldn't be good.
Before the astromech could respond with its usual series of beeps and whistles, space itself seemed to tear open near their position. A massive shape materialized from hyperspace. The ship that emerged was unlike anything Ember had ever seen, though she had little experience with different vessel types to draw from. Its front formed a iconic wedge shape and its entire hull just screamed firepower. Dark plating covered most of its surface, broken by the occasional running light that cast eerie glows across its imposing form. Twin sensor towers jutted from its command section like predatory eyes, and the ship's powerful engines cast an ominous red glow against the backdrop of stars.
The vessel was close enough that it dominated their viewport and appeared massive compared to their small transport. Ember stared at it in stunned silence, her mouth slightly open as the metallic cylinder slipped from her lips and tumbled to the cockpit floor. Through both her normal vision the ship appeared as an overwhelming presence a construct of metal and energy that radiated purpose and barely contained power.
The astromech beside her was chattering frantically in Binary, its distressed beeps and whistles needing no translation. Even without understanding the specific words, Ember could sense the droid's panic.
For several long moments, neither ship moved. Their small transport hung in space like a minnow that had suddenly found itself face-to-face with a shark. Ember gripped the armrests of her chair, her knuckles turning white as she tried to process what was happening.
Then, without warning, the ship's communication system came alive with urgent beeping and flashing lights. A small indicator on the main console blinked insistently red, then yellow, then red again. Even with her limited knowledge of ship operations, Ember recognized the pattern. Someone was trying to contact them.
"Accept it" she told the astromech, her voice barely above a whisper.
The droid hesitated for a moment, emitting a questioning warble, but then extended one of its interface arms and activated the communication array. The main screen flickered to life, displaying a three-dimensional holographic projection that materialized in the space above the central console.
The figure that appeared was unmistakably military a human male in a crisp naval uniform that Ember didn't recognize but somehow understood represented authority. His bearing was rigid and professional, with cold eyes that seemed to look right through her even across the holographic transmission. When he spoke, his voice carried the clipped, precise tones of someone accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question.
"Prepare to be boarded" the officer said simply. There was no preamble, no identification, no explanation just a direct command delivered with absolute authority.
The transmission ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving Ember staring at the empty space where the hologram had been. The silence that followed felt oppressive, broken only by the concerned warbling of the astromech and the gentle hum of their ship's life support systems.
Ember turned her attention back to the massive vessel hanging in space before them. Despite the ominous nature of their situation, she found herself studying the ship with genuine fascination. The aggressive lines of its design, the way the hull plates seemed to flow together in a pattern that suggested both elegance and lethality, the subtle way the running lights highlighted key structural elements it was all strangely beautiful in a predatory sort of way.
"This is where I wanted to get us to" she said softly, though whether she was speaking to the astromech or simply thinking aloud wasn't entirely clear. The words carried a mixture of wonder and trepidation. But seeing that power up close, feeling the weight of it pressing against her consciousness through the Force, she began to understand that protection might come with a price she hadn't fully considered.
The astromech emitted a concerned series of beeps, and Ember realized she needed to act quickly. Whatever was about to happen, she couldn't let them discover the droid's full capabilities or the records it might contain about their stolen ship.
"Disconnect and shut down" she ordered, her voice gaining strength and urgency. "I want to hide you."
The astromech's response was immediate and affirmative—a clear acknowledgment that translated roughly to "understood" followed by the mechanical sounds of systems powering down. Its various interface arms retracted with soft clicking sounds, and the blue glow of its optical sensors dimmed to barely visible pinpricks before going dark entirely. Within moments, the droid had transformed from an active, intelligent companion into what appeared to be a simple, inactive piece of machinery.
Satisfied that the astromech was properly concealed, Ember reached out and gently tapped it on its dome head. The metal felt cool beneath her fingertips.
"Thank you" she whispered to the silent droid, her voice barely audible in the cramped cockpit.
Ember quickly gathered up the spent metallic cylinder from the floor and shoved it into the disposal unit. She took one last look at the imposing warship through the viewport, noting how it seemed to pulse with barely contained energy, before turning and hurrying toward the cockpit's exit. But instead of heading directly to their quarters, she made a detour.
There was another room she remembered seeing during their brief exploration of the ship when they first came aboard a small maintenance compartment that had been mostly stripped bare by previous owners. She found it after a few moments of searching, the door sliding open with a mechanical wheeze to reveal a cramped space filled with scattered debris and forgotten equipment.
Ember's eyes scanned the cluttered floor until she found what she was looking for a length of metal pipe, roughly the thickness of her wrist and about as long as her forearm. It had probably been part of some internal system once, but now it lay discarded among other remnants of the ship's better days. She hefted it experimentally, feeling its solid weight. It would have to do.
The journey back to the cockpit felt longer this time, the metal bar cold and heavy in her grip. When she reached the astromech, she paused for a moment, looking down at the silent droid that had helped them navigate to safety. Its dome head gleamed dully in the emergency lighting, and she could see faint scratches and scorch marks that spoke of years of faithful service.
Then she lifted the metal bar and brought it down hard.
The first blow sent a sharp clang echoing through the cockpit as metal struck metal. The astromech's outer casing dented, but the droid remained structurally intact. Ember gritted her teeth and swung again, this time targeting the interface ports where the droid had connected to the ship's systems. Sparks flew as delicate circuitry was crushed and severed. The dome head cracked after several blows, revealing the complex electronics within. She struck the optical sensors next, shattering the lenses that had guided them through hyperspace. The droid's delicate looking small crystalline units were her final target. She hoped that she crushed the droid thoroughly to ensure that no record of their flight path or destination could be recovered.
When she finally stopped, Ember took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her free hand. The metal bar felt heavier now, weighted with what she had just done. The faithful little droid had helped them reach safety, and she had destroyed it to protect their secrets. It was a necessary betrayal, but it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.
She made her way through the narrow corridor toward their quarters, her steps quickening when she sensed something wrong through the Force. Cherry's emotional aura, which had been calm and steady when Ember left her sleeping, was now fluctuating wildly with spikes of fear and distress. Ember broke into a run, her feet pounding against the metal decking as she covered the remaining distance to their small room. The door slid open at her approach, and what she saw inside made her heart clench with worry.
Cherry was huddled under the threadbare blankets, her small form curled into a tight ball in the center of the narrow bunk. Even through the fabric wrap that covered her eye sockets, Ember could see that her sister was wide awake, trembling visibly. The Force radiations around Cherry flickered and pulsed with shades of deep blue and gray. Without hesitation, Ember crossed the small space in just a few quick steps and sat down carefully on the edge of the bunk. She leaned the metal bar against the wall within easy reach and placed one hand gently on Cherry's shoulder, feeling the tension in her sister's muscles through the thin fabric of her clothing.
"I'm here" Ember said softly, her voice carrying all the reassurance she could muster. "What happened? Why are you upset?"
Cherry's trembling intensified for a moment before she slowly turned toward the sound of Ember's voice. When she spoke, her words came out in a rush, as if she had been holding them back but could no longer contain them.
"I can see something" Cherry whispered, her voice tight with fear. "There's a presence that just appeared. It's... it's scary, Ember. Really scary."
Ember stroked her sister's hair gently, her fingers working through the auburn strands in the same soothing pattern she had used earlier. She then pulled Cherry closer, wrapping her arms around the trembling form and holding her tight for several long moments.
"Listen to me" Ember said when Cherry's trembling had subsided slightly. "We made it. We reached the Empire. That presence you're sensing—it's someone on a ship that appeared. They want to meet us."
Cherry nodded slowly, her small frame gradually relaxing in Ember's embrace. She took a deep, shuddering breath and seemed to steel herself, drawing on reserves of courage that constantly amazed Ember.
"Okay" Cherry whispered, and when she spoke again, her voice was steadier. "I can be brave."
"I know you can" Ember said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her sister's head. "You're the bravest person I know."
They sat together for a few more moments, taking comfort in each other's presence before the reality of their situation forced them to act. Whatever was happening outside their small sanctuary, they would face it together.
"Come on" Ember said finally, standing and extending her hand to Cherry. "Let's go."
Cherry threw back the blankets and slipped her feet to the floor, then reached out to take Ember's offered hand. Their fingers intertwined naturally, a gesture of support and solidarity that had become second nature over the years of their captivity. They walked together through the narrow corridor, moving slowly to accommodate Cherry's as Ember could feel her sister's growing apprehension through their connection, but also her determination. Whatever lay ahead, they would meet it as they always had—together.
Halfway to their destination, Ember stopped them outside the small bathroom unit. "Wait here for just a moment" she told Cherry, squeezing her hand reassuringly.
Ember quickly retrieved the sealed bag containing her remaining medical supplies. She pressed it into Cherry's hands, her voice urgent but quiet.
"Keep this safe" she said. "If something happens to me, you'll need the medication inside. The hypospray works just like the ones we used before—press it against your thigh and activate it. But only use it if you absolutely have to."
Cherry nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of what Ember was giving her. She tucked the bag carefully into one of the inner pockets of her clothing, where it would be hidden but easily accessible if needed.
They resumed their journey through the ship's corridors, their footsteps echoing softly in the confined space. Ember held the metal bar in her free hand, its weight a comforting reminder that she wasn't completely defenseless. Whatever was about to happen, she was prepared to fight for their freedom if necessary.
The airlock was located near the ship's center, a circular hatch with thick seals designed to maintain pressure differences between two connected vessels. Status lights around its perimeter glowed a steady amber, indicating that the system was in standby mode. Ember and Cherry took up position directly in front of it, close enough to see and react to whatever emerged, but far enough back to avoid being immediately trapped if things went badly.
They stood there in tense silence, hand in hand, watching the airlock's status indicators. Ember could feel Cherry's force aura beside her—still afraid, but resolute. Her sister's courage gave her strength, reminding her that they had already survived so much together. Whatever came next, they would endure it.
Both sisters jumped slightly when the airlock suddenly came alive with electronic beeping. The amber status lights shifted to red, and they could hear the subtle hiss of pressure equalization beginning on the other side of the barrier. Someone was coming aboard.
Ember tightened her grip on both Cherry's hand and the metal bar, steeling herself for whatever was about to emerge from the airlock. Beside her, she felt Cherry take a deep breath and square her small shoulders. They had come too far to back down now.
As they stood there in tense silence, Ember slowly began to understand what Cherry had been sensing. The presence she felt ancient and predatory—like a hunter stalking through tall grass, patient and calculating. It radiated a hunger that made her skin crawl, a consciousness that seemed to view everything around it as potential prey. The sensation grew stronger with each passing moment, pressing against her mind like a weight.
Both sisters jumped slightly when the airlock suddenly erupted in urgent electronic beeping. The amber status lights shifted to warning red, casting harsh shadows across their faces as the system began its pressurization cycle. The mechanical hiss of atmosphere equalization filled the corridor, followed by the subtle vibration of boots on metal multiple sets of footsteps moving with military precision.
The airlock door slid open with a pneumatic whoosh, and soldiers emerged in formation. They wore dark, fitted uniforms with the distinctive double-breasted tunics and matching trousers, their boots clicking against the metal decking in perfect synchronization. Unlike the images Ember had seen in their captors' databases, these soldiers moved with the casual confidence of professionals rather than the rigid brutality she had expected.
The soldiers spread out efficiently but not threateningly, taking positions that gave them clear lines of sight while maintaining respectful distances from the two o with their weapons close at hand but not aimed thankfully at them.
Cherry trembled softly beside her, and Ember instinctively shifted to partially shield her sister with her body. She kept her eyes fixed on the soldiers, studying their movements and trying to gauge their intentions. The metal bar felt heavy in her free hand, though she knew it would be useless against trained soldiers if things went badly.
Minutes passed as the boarding party conducted their systematic search of the vessel. Ember could hear them moving through different compartments, the sound of doors opening and closing, occasional bursts of comm chatter too quiet to understand. Through focusing more on her Force sight, she could see their professionalism as they were being cautious as they moved through the rooms but not aggressive.
Then she felt it, IT moved with purpose and absolute confidence, radiating an aura of command that made the soldiers around them subtly straighten their postures. Even without seeing the approaching figure, Ember knew that whoever was coming was someone who expected immediate and unquestioning obedience.
The woman who entered the airlock was unlike anyone Ember had ever encountered. Standing nearly seven feet tall, she moved with the fluid grace of someone accustomed to command, her presence filling the corridor despite her relatively slender build. Her hair was a striking shade of red, pulled back in a severe style that emphasized the sharp angles of her face, and her eyes were the color of polished steel—cold, calculating, and utterly without mercy. The dark fabric and clean lines of her uniform marked her as someone high ranking, and the way the soldiers deferred to her made it clear that she held significant authority. The woman's aura was overwhelming. It filled the entire room completely—a massive presence colored in light red with veins of gold running through it like molten metal. The sheer size of it made Ember's head spin slightly, and she could feel Cherry's trembling intensify as her sister perceived the same intimidating display of power.
Ember found herself staring directly into those steel-gray eyes, refusing to look away despite every instinct telling her to submit. She could feel the woman studying her with the same intensity, taking in details with the practiced eye of someone accustomed to evaluating potential threats or assets. The moment stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions and assessments.
One of the soldiers approached the tall woman and spoke quietly. Ember caught fragments of his report: something about the ship being cleared except for "these two" and "a destroyed droid in the cockpit." The woman listened without interrupting, her gaze never leaving Ember's face, though she occasionally glanced down at Cherry's huddled form.
When the soldier finished his report, the woman dismissed him with a slight nod. She stepped closer to the sisters, moving within arm's reach before gracefully lowering herself into a crouch. The movement brought her nearly to eye level with them, though her commanding presence remained undiminished by the change in position.
"Why are the two of you on this ship?" she asked, her voice carrying the crisp authority of someone accustomed to having her questions answered immediately and completely.
Ember felt Cherry press closer behind her, and she tightened her grip on her sister's hand while keeping the metal bar ready in her other hand. The woman's proximity made the air feel charged with potential energy, and Ember could sense the vast reserves of power that lay beneath that composed exterior.
"We want to make a new life" Ember said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Somewhere we can be happy."
The Imperial officer said nothing for a long moment, those steel-gray eyes studying Ember's face with unsettling intensity. There was something predatory in that gaze, but also something else she couldn't recognize.
Finally, she nodded slightly, seemingly to herself, as if reaching some internal decision that had little to do with anything Ember had said and everything to do with whatever conclusions she had drawn from her observation. The movement was barely perceptible, but it carried the weight of finality.
Without warning or explanation, the woman reached out with both hands and grasped the backs of their clothes—her fingers closing around the fabric at the nape of Ember's neck and Cherry's collar with the same casual efficiency that a mother cat might use to carry her kittens. The grip was firm but not painful, though it left no doubt about who was in control of the situation.
"You're mine now" she declared, her voice carrying absolute finality.
The words hung in the recycled air of the corridor like a pronouncement from on high. There was no discussion, no negotiation, no consideration of their preferences or desires. It was simply a statement of fact, delivered with the same matter-of-fact certainty that one might use to comment on the weather.
Ember's eyes widened in shock, her mouth falling open slightly as she processed what had just happened. This wasn't the protection she had hoped for, nor was it the recruitment into Imperial service she had imagined. Beside her, Cherry made a small, startled sound, her small frame going rigid in the woman's grip.
Even the Imperial soldiers seemed taken aback by their commander's sudden action. Ember caught sight of several of them shifting slightly, their professional composure wavering as they exchanged uncertain glances. This was not normal, and their surprise was palpable. A few of the soldiers straightened their postures, as if trying to maintain their military bearing while processing what they had just witnessed.
One of the senior non-commissioned officers took a half-step forward, his mouth opening as if to speak, but the woman's steel-gray gaze flicked toward him for just an instant. Whatever he saw in her expression made him freeze mid-motion and close his mouth without uttering a word. The message was clear: this was not open for discussion or questioning.
Ember didn't know what to do.
The tall officer began to move, straightening to her full imposing height while maintaining her grip on both sisters. She turned toward the airlock with the same fluid confidence she had displayed since her arrival, apparently expecting no resistance to her claim. Her movements were deliberate and controlled, each step carefully calculated to maintain her hold on her new acquisitions while projecting absolute authority.
"Ma'am" one of the soldiers finally ventured, his voice carefully neutral but tinged with uncertainty. "What are your orders regarding the vessel?"
The woman paused for just a moment, her gaze flicking back to the soldier who had spoken and said with casual indifference "Get rid of it"
As she began walking toward the airlock, Ember found herself being carried along like a piece of luggage, her feet not touching the deck as the woman's long strides covered the distance quickly. Cherry was in the same predicament, her small form dangling more from the officer's other hand, though the woman seemed to have no difficulty managing both of them simultaneously.