That's CAPTAIN Vyen'a to you, kid.

The sudden sound of silence

The woman sighed as she flipped through a stack of flimsi, looking for a shipping manifest.  ”The hell’d I put that thing,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head with a sigh.

A rush of warmth made her gasp, then smile, tilting her head to speak through her mind to the Jedi who had sent it.  ‘Ey, Ihl.  Wha’s new in your life?  Ain’t talked t’ ya in a bit.

She paused, frowning. The warmth faded as quickly as it came, leaving an achingly cold hollow in its place.  That wasn’t right, nor was it familiar; Ihlrath’s mind brushes always left her feeling like she’d been wrapped up in blankets and left in front of a fireplace.  This sensation was one of an icy solitude.

Farewell…

The flimsi stack fell from Vyen’a’s hand, scattering across the floor of the common area of her ship as she fell to her knees, clutching her stomach as the wave of realization hit her.  That icy solitude was a feeling that had only touched her once before: as her parents were wrapped in their traditional burial shrouds and took their place in the mossy green hills of Mirial.

“No.  No, Ihl, no,” she sobbed, curling her knees to her chest, the cold durasteel plates of the floor pressing patterns into the flesh of her arms as she reached out again and again, searching for him the way he had taught her.

Only the silent solitude of space responded.

A mark on the day

The quiet, constant hum of the kolto tank buzzed soft and low against the back of Vyen’a’s consciousness, creating an almost comforting blanket of sound.

Except the sound wasn’t comforting.  And she was so cold.

She stared down at her legs, her boots still speckled with bits of a mix of sand and blood.  How long had she sat here?  She lifted a datapad from the floor by her foot, tapping the display to life.

By Galactic Standard Time: four days, sixteen hours, four minutes.

That is how long it had been since she nearly broke flight speed records, cursing and biting back tears the whole way from Tatooine to Coruscant, precious cargo stable and asleep in her med bay’s kolto tank.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them.  Sotori and Rikur were fine medics.  But the man in the tank was still unconscious when they left the planet.  And he still hadn’t woken up, even after a steady stream of doctors and specialists had poked, prodded, checked and rechecked his vitals, his bioscans, and everything else they could think of.

Jerax still did not stir when they moved him from the kolto tank after day three, laying him in a fresh layer of sheets on a narrow hospital bed.

He didn’t move when his mother and father came, sitting a while with Vyen’a, urging her to take a room in the wing designated for family members.

He didn’t move.  So she didn’t move.

Vyen’a sighed, lowering her head to rest on the pillow next to Jerax, fingertips turning the thick platinum band around and around his ring finger.

All she could do was wait, they had said.  He could wake up in a day, or he could wake up in a decade.  So she waited.

She would always wait.

The datapad bleeped an alert on her lap, making her sit up with a slight start to look at the readout.  She couldn’t help but choke back a strangled sob of a laugh.  The calendar was displayed, a small mark on the day.  

She set the datapad down on the floor again with a small sigh, running fingers through her unkempt hair, and leaned forward, kissing the man’s brow softly and whispering almost inaudibly.

“It’s been a year since Ord Mantell.”  She paused, then sighed, resting her forehead against his.  ”Happy anniversary, Jerax.”

The man did not stir.

Spark of Dissent

HOLO 44.2.248://

TEXT READOUT

DISPLAY? Y/N

I’m getting real sick of the attitude of a lot of Jedi.  Just because me and mine aren’t force sensitive doesn’t mean we aren’t worth a little bit of common decency.  We’re more than just meat shields for their reindeer games, or targets to mind fuck when they get irritated.

And unfortunately, it’s starting to feel like some of our allies in the Marran don’t see it that way.  That just because we’re not special snowflake force sensitive darlings, we don’t deserve the basic respect that jedi practically demand just by their presence.

I’m getting really sick of people idly throwing around references to “mindkriffing” people like they’re talking about picking up a cup of caf.  Getting really sick of patching up my boys in blue because they took a force blast to the chest and took to the air like a bird in an Alderaan spring, just to make some space for a jedi to run in and start swinging with their glowbat and get all the credit and glory.  

Sith bleed just as good from blaster fire as the next fucker, and I don’t care how all powerful they are, one Sith can’t deflect sustained fire from a dozen blasters at once.

And I know I ain’t the only one who feels this way.

Bald nearly went to blows with Ihlrath on the Hyperion last night.  Because one of Ihlrath’s people told Oz to go home… and Oz tried to walk out the airlock on their hangars.  Put that idea right in his head.  I might not like Oz - shit, that’s the understatement of the year - but I’ve saved his ass enough to know how he bleeds. They tried to say it was “just a suggestion”, but with everything Bald’s going through, dealing with Red…

It was nasty.

And the thing is, I don’t think any of the forcers get why he was so angry.  They don’t - or refuse to - see the ramifications of being able to just look at someone and make them think “Oh, I should go” but not have any control over how they’re going to do it.  To just idly affect someone’s actions like that, to take away their control?  It makes them no better than Sith.  Absolutely no better than those fucks who screwed up Red’s brain so badly.

And it didn’t help that Bald and I were in a little tiff not thirty seconds before Oz came wandering by, brain all scrambled.  About Red.  Because I guess I don’t know when to stop poking the bear when it comes to her.

And Nia’s probably mad at me now, too.  I told her I was trying to track down where Dhen fucked off to when he transferred out.  I want to drag his ass back by that busted nose of his so Nia can properly kick it for treating her like shit.  For fucking off without even saying so much as goodbye.  I deserved a goodbye, and she deserved a whole lot more than a shitty letter.

Fuck, man.  Last night just sucked.

Visual feed

HOLO 234.23.7://

!!!ALERT!!!

Visual Feed attached.  Commence playback?: Y/N

The video flickers and fades into focus, Vy’s fresh-scrubbed face looking happier than it has in months.  She looks over her shoulder, grinning, and looks back to the camera.  The form of a man sitting at a desk can be seen through the open door behind her.

I asked ‘im.

An’ ‘e said yes.

He’s gonna marry me.

Her grin grows even bigger.

I can’t even remember what I said.  I jus’… I had t’ ask ‘im.  An’ he looked so, so shocked.  An’ for a minute, lookin’ up at ‘im, I thought he was gonna say no again, an’ leave me sittin’ there wit’ a ring in my hand an’…

She looks over her shoulder, voice muffled slightly.

I tol’ him I couldn’ promise nothin’.  Tha’ I was no good an’ couldn’ be tha’ perfect little one who only had eyes for him forever an’ always, pretty much.  But I did tell ‘im tha’ I loved him number one, an’ always would.

She looks back, still smiling.

An’ he still said yes.

So shi’, universe.  Bring on th’ imps.  Bring on th’ gian’ bug people, th’ pissy Hutts wit’ grudges, the asshole ex-lovers wit’ chips on their shoulders.

Ain’ nothin’ can hurt me now.

!!!VIDEO FEED ENDED!!!