Note: an outtake from Revenge of the Jedi, for elektrykdark on dreamwidth
The problem with fighting the Empire's wars, Master Xanetia always said, was that they were other people's wars. We died almost as quickly as the real soldiers.
I was twenty-three. I'd only been back from maternity leave for two months, but it wasn't my fault. I was a Jedi, but I could only dodge and duck and there were too many and something burned and I screamed and everything went away, even the pain.
I don't remember what happened next, exactly; I woke in a long, echoing hall, and I think I must have wandered for a time. Then a door slammed open and a woman stumbled through.
I'd only met her once, but that was enough, even through the blood. "Shmi?" I said blankly.
"Arissa?"