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    Summary

    Obi-Wan swallows hard, glancing back over his shoulder. Pull and Minut are doing a wonderful job of not staring at their commanding officers, although Obi-Wan can tell via the Force that they’re aware of the tension at the front of the escape pod. He shudders, stomach cramping, as he feels another wave of lights wink out – only two or three more, a last shot from a parting vulture droid tearing open a capsule. He swallows again, against the bile, shoulders trembling. Cody’s gloved hand comes down firmly, high on his thigh, and Obi-Wan’s commander rumbles low in his ear, “Let me help, cyare. Don’t make me watch you hurting.”

    Obi-Wan experiences certain...reactions to loss, an unpleasant feature of his Stewjoni biology. As always, his valiant commander is there to help him through.

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