The Tech
There was thunderous noise crashing around her. A loud and deep guh-thunk signaled the engine was turning over. There was laser fire, at first just one or two turrets, and then the noise filled up her ears as thousands of blasters and turrets attacked one another. Metal and fire exploded around her. The whir of machinery powering up was a shrill noise behind her. A cool breeze brushed her face—the kind of breeze caused by the collision of super-cooled and super-heated air currents colliding, only this wasn't nature but rather cryo ordnance versus frags and flamethrowers. And then someone was calling her name.
"G…ral… G…neral…"
She turned her head. She silently nodded. Just one nod.
"Gen…ral…!"
The whine of the machine quickly became a roar. The void was filling up the sky, sucking energy into it. There were screams. There was a thud. Someone grabbed her.
"General!"
Khara's fingers closed around an object and she swung out. Something caught her wrist and her eyes flew open. A shard of metal was inches away from piercing the neck of the Zabrak that held her. A metal hand held hers tightly, wide-eyed in surprise. That face. She knew that face. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was or what was happening. Khara tried to center herself. She reached out in the Force. Instantly she knew this wasn't Malachor. Her trembling fingers released the shard and it clunked against his metal arm and skittered onto the ground.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded and immediately began trying to calm her rapid breathing. "It's good to see you again, General," he said, "though I admit I didn't think I'd ever see you again. The galaxy's a big place, and this is the last place I thought I'd bump into you."
She knew him. She knew his face. He was one of the Iridonian mechanic corps at Malachor. What was his name?
Atton groaned behind them. "What are you… doing?" he mumbled. She looked back and saw him grasping his head, his hazel eyes struggling to concentrate on her.
That's when she realized her situation. The Zabrak was cradling her in his arms and still holding her hand away from her face. It must have looked strange. He must have sensed her sudden discomfort because he immediately and carefully began helping her to her feet. The hand that was still flesh went to her head to steady any dizziness that might sneak up and then he was backing away from her. Khara nodded her thanks to him.
"Ba…o…" She trailed off, forgetting the rest.
"Bao-Dur. I'm not surprised you don't remember me." But she did. "I was just a tech." He had been so much more than that. He had been the tech.
Khara stared at him, at his golden eyes, and was bombarded by the past. Part of her felt comforted by his presence. He was a kindred spirit—not in the way she felt with other Jedi, but the kind only war could form. They were connected, the two of them, and while the bond was relieving, it was also terrifying. Part of her was comforted, yes, but the other part writhed. Why was he here? Why him? Why of all the people she served with were the two of them thrust back together? There were no coincidences. The Force had aligned their paths. It should have eased her spirit knowing this, but it was the scariest part of all.
"I don't want to talk about the war," she told him as she went to help Atton to his feet.
"I'll agree to that. The less said the better."
"Ugh," Atton groaned. "This is familiar. Feels like my last time on Telos."
"Crashed a shuttle that time, too?" Bao-Dur asked.
"No. Pazaak."