Looking back on it, Alya couldn't imagine that she had woken up that morning with a spring in her step. By all accounts it was a normal day, she saw her regular patients and a few urgent cases, finished most of her paperwork, even had time to visit her neighbor, a mother and her young son. By that same evening she'd seen the horror of the destruction of a planet, she'd been left shaken at the very thought of it, mourned all the lives lost for a cause she couldn't imagine. By that evening she felt as if no one could talk about anything else. It was all about the First Order and what needed to be done about them, if they could keep their politically neutral position after such an attack.
Some said it was unlikely that they would be seen as an enemy, the world was small and mostly used as a farming planet. They had almost no military presence, and even if the majority of people sided with the resistance most if not all became field medics before they became soldiers. She herself had trained some of them, and turned a blind eye as they left. Glancing up at the sky, she wondered how many of them were in the fight, how many were in the Hosnian system when it disintegrated.
She'd often been criticized for her optimism, but that was a moment that it utterly failed her. It was a moment that she realized she didn't at all envy the leaders of her world, the kind of choice they had to make was no small task. Siding with the Republic meant putting themselves on a hit list, siding with the First Order meant abandoning their morals for safety. She wanted to think the choice should be easy, but the picture of the planet crumbling, exploding, everyone she knew dead in moments kept flashing through her mind and she knew it wasn't.
Even when the day was over and she was allowed to go back to her own bubble, all she could do was worry. Every comm, every holovid, every person was talking about it. Just walking home she found out that Takodana had been attacked, that the resistance came to fight back. Every voice around her chattered with nervous energy, and the mundane routine that would normally be calming made her all the more fidgety. Her planet was safe, for now, and that's what they had to focus on.
It was hours later that the whispers started again.
The weapon is charging again. It will fire again. Who will be destroyed now?
And sooner than she ever expected, the explosion of the star base rocked her whole planet, but it didn't have quite the emotional affect it might have. They had one system shattering weapon, they could have another. Some people cheered, some people cried, and all Alya could do was look out her window and think of how pointless it all was. She knew there were still so many dead for so little a reason, and it all just made her heart feel hollow.
But for a moment she thought it was over. That, at least for now, the First Order would have to fall back to regroup and plan for their next attack, and they might have a period of peace before the war began again. The thought doesn't keep her from jumping at every noise, doesn't stop her fingers from trembling, and maybe she should have taken that as a sign that things weren't over just yet.
Because the food for her dinner just hit the table when her door caved in, and there is no chance for her to escape. She barely has the chance to look to her doorway, the one that lead to a basement and a high window she might be able to squeeze through, before she's dragged clear off her feet without an ounce of care. The mask rasps the voice of the lead trooper, he stands a head taller than her and she can feel her heart thumping against her ribcage.
"You are the healer Alya?"
It's barely a question and she knew it, but shaking in her boots wouldn't keep her alive and she knew that too. A quick nod is all she managed before they march her out of her home, surprisingly quietly. The night had fallen, and while part of her might hope that someone catches her kidnapping, a bigger part of her wanted them all to stay safe. If it's just her, she might be able to figure a way out. At least, that's what she tells herself.
Alya's feet lightly drag against the ground, they hadn't allowed her to put on shoes or even a jacket, forcing a sense of calm in herself. In a line of silent and intimidating storm troopers, there was no way she wasn't clearly outnumbered and outgunned, and she couldn't help but think that it was only bound to get worse from there.