Chapter Text
Icy rain pattering her face, Pyra jerked awake with a harsh gasp of pain. Sucking in the chill air, her lungs were set aflame and the girl was sent into an agonizing coughing fit, until only soft whimpering emanated from her lips as it finally subsided. Bringing a hand up, she brushed wet locks of dark brown hair from her face, blinking water from her eyes to see where she was.
The teen Jedi found herself lying at the bottom of a deep, narrow ravine, with only a sliver of gray sky and pouring rain above her. To her right, the ravine vanished down a sloping corner before abruptly dropping further away; that pathway was littered with rocks ranging from pebbles to boulders. To her left, a towering wall of piled stones lay beside her, so close that her entire left arm was buried under those crushing rocks. Shivering from the cold, Pyra attempted to move that limb and was rewarded with lancing pain stabbing from her shoulder to spread throughout her torso. This sent her into another coughing fit, her breath visible in the chill air as she tried to curl up.
The movement sent pain flaring through her right leg, the source coming from her knee. Tilting her head up, she could see her leg was bent the wrong way. Knocking her head against the stony bed beneath her, she couldn’t fight back the torrent of tears, twin streams of warmth gracing her round cheeks. With such agony flooding her senses, it threatened to overwhelm the trapped girl, sending her into a feverish state of semi-consciousness. As her vision began to slip into darkness, Pyra felt her mind wandering back to recent days’ past, and just how she came to be in this fatal situation.
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Snapping awake, Pyra cast her gaze about. Around her, a dozen other scrappers talked amongst themselves, wondering why the train had stopped. Half-rising from her seat, Pyra tilted her head back to glance out the narrow windows. Between the gloomy sky and water-speckled panes, she could only squint, trying to make out the vague shapes of people standing outside. Sighing softly, her breath fogged the glass, obscuring her reflection before a door slid open on one end of the car to allow a pair of Stormtroopers entry.
“Everyone on their feet! they ordered. “Have your identification ready! Outside, now!”
Rising out of her seat, Pyra shuffled along in line with the other scrappers, keeping her head down as she stepped past the pale-armored soldiers. As they filed off the train, she pulled her heavy poncho tightly about her slender form to stave off the cold rain peppering down. More soldiers were waiting outside on the rocky wasteland, only these men wore black and red armor. Pausing, she risked a glance at one of them, sizing the trooper up. As her eyes fell upon the DC-15A rifle in his hands, Pyra felt her entire body seize up. A Clone Trooper stood before her, raising the barrel of his gun. Echoing shouts and hissing blaster fire filled her ears, accompanied by the telltale hum of a lightsaber as it swung and slashed about. A young girl’s pitiful weeping could be heard faintly at the edge of her hearing as a rough voice shattered through the unwanted memory. “I said move it, scrap rat!”
Giving a brief shake of her head, Pyra blinked as her sight returned to the here and now. The trooper’s crimson visor glared back at her, his rifle raised at the hip. Returning her eyes to the ground, she hurriedly walked on, eager to be unnoticed again. Joining the rest of her guild, Pyra lined up shoulder-to-shoulder with the other scrappers, her breath clouding in light plumes. Overhead, two ships flew by, slowing to land near the halted train. One was definitely a TIE Interceptor, while the other looked to be a Reaper, but for Pyra, she couldn’t be sure. The girl watched as two figures, one a lithe, slender human, and the other a hulking Dowutin, emerged from their respective ships and approached the gathered workers. Feeling her heart rate increasing, Pyra fought to keep herself calm as the troopers formed a loose semi-circle before them. Most stood stationary, but a few, armed with electrostaffs, paced about like caged animals, as if they were just begging for a reason to activate their weapons.
By now, the pair of mysterious figures came to a stop before the line of scrappers.
“Is this all of them?” the slender one inquired.
“Yes, Second Sister,” a trooper replied.
Pyra couldn’t help but shiver at that commanding tone, made all the more intimidating with her helmet modulating her voice. Behind Pyra and the others, the Dowutin growled softly, pacing from one end of the line to the other, glaring at their backs. As the Second Sister stepped forward to address them, she swept her visored gaze slowly from left to right.
“We seek a dangerous fugitive,” she began. “This is no common anarchist, but a devotee of the treasonous Jedi Order.”
Pyra could practically feel the predatory eyes of the Dowutin linger on her before moving along. That and her heart dropping into her stomach.
“Failure to turn over this traitor will result in a charge of sedition,” the Second Sister continued, her unseen gaze piercing through the now-shivering workers.
Her next words sent chills through them all, but most of all Pyra.
“Turn yourself in or everyone present shall face summary execution.”
At those damning words, rifles were cocked and aimed at the now-panicked scrappers. The troopers armed with staffs activated them, giving their weapons a fierce spin before standing at the ready, eager to fight. Begging and pleading, the frightened guild members raised their arms in desperate gestures of surrender, hoping their compliance would spare them. Frantically flicking her electric blue eyes every which way, Pyra knew that seconds mattered, and if she didn’t speak up, they’d all be dead.
Taking a deep breath, the Padawan stepped forward.
“I’m the Jedi,” she stated.
Every blaster was instantly trained on her as the staff-wielding troopers began advancing slowly.
“Let these people go,” Pyra continued, her courage quickly waning. “They didn’t know, so they’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Bah!” a gravelly voice snarled behind her.
Pyra didn’t have to glance back to know the Dowutin was towering over her, offering a toothy smirk.
“Kill ‘em anyway!”
Before the soldiers could carry out that callous order, the Second Sister raised a hand, signaling them to hold their fire.
“No. The Jedi has surrendered. Let the rest of the scrappers get back on the train.”
Not a single one so much as threw Pyra a glance as they hurriedly filed onto their transport. She couldn’t help but frown as she watched them all just go.
No gratitude from those scrap-rats, she thought bitterly to herself.
“If you have a lightsaber, hand it over!”
The Dowutin’s shuddering footsteps came to a halt right behind her. Deliberately, she reached for her right hip as the Second Sister and her soldiers advanced, completely surrounding her. Pulling aside her poncho revealed a dual-hilt clipped to her belt; taking the weapon in hand, she slowly held it up over her head. She couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp of surprise as it was ripped from her fingers. By now the troopers were so close that the barrels of their guns were practically pressing against her torso. Before Pyra, the Second Sister approached with an easy gait, assured that her prey was captured.
“I must say,” she chuckled, “that was a rather disappointing hunt. You didn’t even try to run. How noble. How pathetic!”
“You already knew it was me,” the girl countered, resting her hands on the back of her head.
“Quite right, little Padawan,” she replied, her tone condescending.
“But are you certain that’s my lightsaber you have?” Pyra wondered, glancing back at the Dowutin.
“I know a lightsaber hilt when I see one, rat!” she snarled, shoving her to the ground.
Pyra gave a squeal of surprise as she was slammed into the rocks, shivering as she lay still. Despite her fear, a knowing grin slowly spread across her face.
“Something amusing?” the Second Sister asked, glaring down at her.
“That’s not my lightsaber.”
“So you stole it off another Jedi?” The Dowutin growled, pressing her foot down on the girl’s torso.
Gasping desperately for breath, Pyra gave a wheezing laugh. “You misunderstand. It’s not a lightsaber at all.”
“Enough of this,” the Second Sister said, clearly bored. “Kill her.”
“Gladly!”
So saying it, the Dowutin flicked one of the switches, but instead of a blade igniting, a soft beeping could be heard.
“Surprise!” Pyra exclaimed, Force-Pushing the hulking alien off her back.
“Throw it away, you fool!” the Second Sister shouted.
As the Dowutin hurled it into the air, the pseudo-saber detonated, its explosion powerful enough to knock everyone off their feet. A few troopers were especially unlucky as the blast hit them directly, melting helmets and piercing shrapnel through their armor. While they all recovered from that concussive inferno, Pyra bolted, legs pumping furiously as she fled.
“It’s escaping!” a soldier cried, opening fire.
Shots of crimson plasma whistled and zipped past her as she ran in a haphazard serpentine pattern. Even with those evasive maneuvers, a cry of pain was ripped from her throat as one bolt blasted through her side, sending the girl stumbling. Panting frantically, she scrambled upright, making a desperate run for a cliff edge. The sound of a lightsaber igniting had her diving into a somersault, the Second Sister’s angry red blade passing over her. Giving a shout of effort, Pyra nimbly came back up to her feet and leapt from the edge, plummeting down through the rain.
“This wasn’t the best idea,” she muttered, squinting her eyes against the rushing wind.
Far below, another train could be seen hurtling across her uncontrolled flightpath. Groaning, the girl braced herself, calling on the Force to soften her landing. Smashing through the roof of one of the rear cars, the impact was still excruciatingly painful, tearing the air from her lungs.
“What was that?!” a Stormtrooper demanded, walking into the car, carbine raised.
“Oww…” she winced, clutching at her wound.
“Stowaway!” another soldier stated, standing next to his comrade.
Slowly climbing to her feet, Pyra held a calming hand out, “Easy, boys...”
“Stay where you are and don’t move!” one ordered.
“Alert. We have an intruder,” the other started to say into his commlink.
Reaching into a small pack slung over her back, Pyra whipped out her dual-hilt, a single green blade igniting to cut them down in one swift stroke.
“Okay,” she panted, gingerly holding her wound. “Now I just have to get off the train, find a ride off this miserable rock, and disappear forever…”
With no way of knowing when the train would actually come to a stop, the girl devised a plan to simply halt the transport herself. Better than jumping off the speeding craft, especially with how banged up she already was. The only problem: there was an entire train of Stormtroopers between her and the engine. Steeling herself, she moved onward, cutting down everyone in her path. It wasn’t until she was nearly to the front when the Dowutin’s Reaper sailed by, coming around to blast the train apart.
“Oh! Shi-!” she started to swear as she hurtled forward, tossed about like a ragdoll as the train crashed apart through the air.
Managing to leap clear of the wreckage, Pyra was once again plummeting down, flailing her limbs out eagle-spread in the hopes of controlling her flight. Grunting hard in pain, she slammed into the edge of a platform before landing hard twenty feet below it. Muttering expletives as she stood up, her limbs popped loudly in protest, adding to her agony. The sound of a TIE fighter’s engines roaring overhead had her freezing in place.
“Oh no…”
The Interceptor touched down high above and out climbed the Second Sister. Stepping off the ledge, she floated gracefully down, spinner-hilt in hand.
“Going somewhere?” she wondered, igniting a blade.
Pulling out her dual-hilt, Pyra activated one end as she fell into a defensive stance. “You’re right. I realized running from you was wrong and I was just on my way to the nearest Imperial station to turn myself in.”
Sinister chuckling rippled from her mask. “Oh, too late for that, little Padawan.”
Stalking towards the shivering girl, the Second Sister dragged the tip of her lightsaber along the ground.
“Did you like my surprise?” she wondered past the lump in her throat.
The lithe woman stopped short. “It was certainly memorable, I’ll admit. You gave the Ninth Sister some new scars. Be glad she isn’t here now!”
Snarling, she rushed forward with Force-Dash, aiming a deadly thrust for the girl’s abdomen.
Barely knocking aside the attack, Pyra quickly backpedaled, deflecting and parrying a blur of slashes and stabs. Diving away, the girl threw her arm out, hitting her enemy with a Force-Push. The Second Sister easily withstood that blow, chuckling as she advanced on the Jedi.
“You’re relying too heavily on Form 3!” she taunted. “If you don’t attack!”
She brought her blade down in a devastating overhead slash. Pyra halted the attack, the force of the blow dropping her to one knee.
“Then you’ll never win!” the Second Sister finished, slamming her boot into the girl’s chest.
Letting out a cry of pain, Pyra hit the ground hard, her breathing ragged.
“You may have had some training, little Padawan,” came that sinister laugh. “But you’re weak, and now you’re going to die.”
Her crimson blade hovered over the girl’s chest, but before the killer-blow could be dealt, the sound of roaring engines drew their gazes to see a huge ship hovering beside the platform. Twin cannons reported a few shots, the impact of the blasts sending both Pyra and the Second Sister flying. Struggling to stay conscious, the young Jedi saw the ship’s door slide open, a woman standing on the ramp.
“Get on board!” she called, gesturing for her to hurry.
Managing to get up, Pyra limped to the ship, hurrying at the sound of a lightsaber activating. Once on the ramp, she stopped to look back, seeing the ebon-clad woman walking toward them at an easy pace. Grabbing the girl’s shoulder, the mysterious woman shoved her inside the ship and leveled a blaster pistol at the Jedi-hunter, firing several shots. The Second Sister easily deflected them, dodging forward.
“Captain!” the woman yelled, retracting the ramp and sealing the door.
As she did so, the Second Sister leapt up, twisting about in midair for a devastating attack, only to leave a line of melted metal sheared into the door as the ship took off. Pyra managed to run to the cockpit, where a Latero sat. Suddenly the Second Sister was there, clinging to the front of the ship, staring in at them. Extending her hand, she wrenched the controls from the pilot’s hands, sending the ship careening out of control. Rushing to the cockpit, the woman grabbed the controls and turned a hard right, throwing the Second Sister off the ship. Taking control of the vessel once more, the Latero quickly sent them into hyperspace, finally getting away from Bracca. Panting hard, Pyra leaned against the bulkhead and sank to the floor, clutching her dual-hilt tightly to her chest.
“It’s okay. We got away.”
Tilting her head up, she stared into the eyes of her rescuer, a dark-skinned woman with short-cropped hair. “I’m Cere Junda,” she continued. “What’s your name?”
“Pyra,” she coughed, groaning in pain, “Athcan.”
By now the Latero had ambled over, eyeing her quizzically as he crossed his lower set of arms over his potbelly.
“This is my captain, Greez Dritus,” Cere said, gesturing to him.
“How ya doin’?” he asked with a short nod.
“Oh, the twin suns of Tatooine are shining out my ass right now,” Pyra snipped, still holding her side in pain.
“Hey, no need to be hostile, kid,” the captain growled.
“Then don’t ask stupid questions,” she replied, wincing as she slowly rose to her feet. “The hell I’ve been through today! I’m being hunted, I got shot! And I’m sure I’ve broken at least five ribs!”
Cere gripped her arm, helping her stand up. “You’re being hunted by an Imperial Inquisitor. Now that she knows who you are, she will never stop pursuing you until you are captured or killed.”
“Fantastic,” came the sarcastic response. “Please tell me you have bacta on this hunk of junk.”
“The Mantis is not a hunk of junk!” Greez declared.
“Medic kits are on the bulkhead near the door,” Cere answered, patting the air to calm both parties.
Limping over to the gray container, Pyra helped herself to a stim shot of the gelatinous blue substance and injected it directly into her blaster wound. Letting out a scream of pain through gritted teeth, she leaned against the bulkhead, panting softly as the healing gel did its job.
“So why did you help me escape?”
“We’re going to rebuild the Jedi Order,” Cere stated.
“Yeah? Sounds like a fantasy to me,” the young Padawan replied.
“It’s not, Pyra. Look, for now rest. I’ll explain more later.”
Nodding, the girl made her slow way to the rear of the ship and slipped inside one of the cabins. Flopping onto the bunk, she was out cold in an instant.