Rian:

            "We have to pick up our friends!"

            What's are you doing?  The ground troops are still in place.  Abort this mission!  I command you!  Abort!

            "If we stop to pick them up we risk getting killed!"

            "If we don't pick them up, they will get killed!"

            I need help!  I can't breathe!

            "Force!  You pilot as well as a maimed bantha!"

            Everyone gather around!  We need to protect Gadon!

            "That's it!  Move over, I'll pilot."

            Not like this.  I can't die like this!

            "Hurry!  We've got to get out of here!"

            Mama!

            Blackness.  Temporary as it was, the pain was too loud, too vividly real.  I had to back away.  Let it all fade to black…

            "Grandad!"  The child's hands were plump and pink as she clung to the older man's leg.

            Grandad chuckled and ran a hand through the child's hair.  She beamed up at him and tightened her grip around his calf.  He walked to a chair and hauled the small girl, still attached to his leg, with him.

            He sat in the high backed wooden chair and pried the child from his ankle.  The girl frowned briefly until Grandad set her in his lap.  She snuggled into him and tried to plant a kiss on his cheek, but when she realized she wasn't seated high enough, settled for his collarbone instead.

            Grandad started to brush her hair.  The child began to squirm and holler, but it was too late.  The old man had pinned her to his lap with one arm.

            "Hush, child.  I'll be done be done quicker if you stop struggling." he murmured.

            The child was immune to his logic.  She shrieked and kicked her legs into his knees.

            "You can't go running about with your hair a tangled mess." Grandad said his tone stern.

            "Then cut it off!" she bellowed.  "I don't want it anymore!"

            "Nonsense." he replied.  "Anyway, while you were busy having a tantrum, I finished brushing your hair.  It wasn't so bad, now was it?"

            The girl snorted and crossed her arms.  Grandad swallowed his laughter and started to twist her sleek black hair into a braid.

            "Do you know why I came to see you?" he asked.

            "Because you brought me treats." The girl replied, a wide smile on her round face.  "They're in your right pocket."

            "Have I become that predictable?"  Grandad reached into his pocket and pulled the candies out. 

            He kept one for himself and gave the child two.  The child in turn, devoured one immediately and placed the second in her pocket for later.

            "I've come to tell you something, little one."  Grandad secured the girl's pleat with a red ribbon.  "Something important."

            The girl looked at him.  A sticky green smear from the sweet coated her upper lip.  Grandad traced her nose with his index finger.

            "You're going to begin training soon, so I'm going to have to treat you like everyone else." he said.  "I'm not going to be able to visit you anymore with treats."

            "But Grandad!" she protested.

            "No." he cut in firmly.  "You can't call me Grandad anymore, either.  You'll always be my favorite, we just can't act like it."

            No, my brain said this memory was wrong.  I had to go to the next one.

            Click.

            "Mister!  Please, help my mama!"  The child reached up and tugged at the hem of the older man's robes.

            "Calm down, child.  Tell me what the problem is?"  The man knelt before the little girl and wiped the dirt from her forehead with a handkerchief.

            "Mama's sick, no one will come near the house."  The child's lower lip trembled but her violet eyes didn't convey the fear they should have.

            "I suppose I could take a look." the man murmured.  "You lead Grandad to your mama."

            The child nodded and reached for his gnarled hand.  She led him through the crowded streets until they reached what appeared to be a derelict building.

            Inside, the building was tidy, but sparsely furnished.  There was a woman lying on a mat in the corner of the room covered by a blanket.  The man left the child in the doorway and continued on by himself.

            The old man shook his head when he pulled the blanket back.  Patches of purple scabs covered her jaundiced skin and her glassy eyes were vacant.  He placed the blanket back over her face.

            Wait, Mother wasn't dead.  That was another wrong memory.  Go back.

            Click.

            The old man gave a sympathetic smile as he pulled the blanket back.  The woman coughed and appeared genuinely shocked at his presence.

            "Sir, what are you doing here?" she asked.

            "Quiet, you need to reserve your strength." he said.

            "You don't understand." she wheezed.  "It's contagious.  I sent my daughter to look for help to keep her away from me.  I didn't think that anyone would be foolish enough to try to help."

            "Hush, child." he replied.  "This will be done quicker if you don't fight me."

            "Just make sure my baby stays away." the woman insisted.

            "Of course." said the man.  "Now close your eyes.  I want you to breathe in and out slowly and concentrate on nothing.  That's it."

            Several minutes passed before the man stood.  He walked towards the child.

            "What did you do?" the girl asked.

            "Your mama's going to be fine." the man said.  "She'll be very weak and hungry when she wakes.  So I want you to take these credits and buy bread and vegetables for your mama."  He pressed the money into the child's hands.  "But save enough for some treats for yourself."

            No, that was wrong as well.  Or was it?

            Click.

            "Mama, look at that strange old man."  The child stood on the seat of a leather sofa and peered out the window.  "He's wearing a dress!"

            "It's a robe, little one, not a dress." her mother replied.  "You know that it's not polite to make fun of others."

            "I can't help it that he looks funny." the girl said matter-of-factly.

            "It's time for bed." her mother said.

            The child sighed, but scurried into her mother's lap.  Once she was snug in the lap, the girl traced the embroidery of her mother's silk skirt with a careless finger.

            "I'm not tired." the child announced.

            "Will you go to sleep if I sing to you?" her mother asked.

            "Okay." the girl sighed.

            Her mother began to hum while the child smiled.  The melody was melancholy and eerie and seemed perfectly suited to the mother's mezzo-soprano.  The mother let her daughter's braid out as she sang.

            That one.  That one was the right one.  I think.  I guess it was time that I opened my eyes.

            "Hey, she's finally awake!"

            Mission leapt onto the cot and threw her arms around me.  I groaned.

            "Are you okay?" she asked.  "I was worried for a while."

            "I feel like I got trampled by a herd of bantha." I muttered.

            "Carth told us what happened." Mission said.

            "What exactly did happen?" I wondered.  I sat up and realized that I must have been in the Ebon Hawk's medical bay.

            "You got hit with some rubble during the bombing." Mission explained solemnly.  "Your armor kept you from breaking anything but you were bruised up pretty bad.  But still, that was no reason for you to pass out and start shaking."

            "I did that?"

            Mission nodded.  The serious expression on her face almost made me laugh.

            "Big Z, Teethree and me have been taking care of you since then." 

            "Oh."  I had hoped that in the chaos they would have forgotten to take that worthless droid along.  Oh well.

            A smile cracked her lips.  "Carth probably would've been here too, but he doesn't trust anyone else to pilot the ship."

            "What makes you think he'd come and check on me?" I asked.

            Mission laughed.  "He's practically been foaming at the mouth since you passed out.  It doesn't help that Bastila seems to know more than she's letting on."

            "Carth doesn't know enough to ignore Bastila yet." I mumbled.

            Mission raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.

            "Where are we headed, anyway?" I questioned.

            "Dantooine." Mission answered.  "Bastila says there's a Jedi enclave there."

            "As if one damned Jedi isn't bad enough." I grumbled.  "I could really use some caffa."

            I stumbled out of the bed.  Mission held her arms out to try and support me but I brushed her away.  I staggered into the main room of the Ebon Hawk.

            Bastila was seated by herself at the table in the center of the room.  She jerked up from what she was doing and quickly hit a switch.

            "You should be resting." she blurted out.

            "Not on an empty stomach."  I took the seat next to her.  "What have you been up to?"

            "I just sent a message to the council." she muttered.  Her fingers drummed along the top of the table.

            "So, after we get you safe and sound to Dantooine, do you still intend to send Echani mercs after me?" I asked.

            "Why?" Bastila replied.  "Do you still mean to run away from all this?"

            "I'm not running away." I growled.

            "Is that so?"  Bastila raised an eyebrow.

            "Look, just because I choose to walk away from something, it gives you no right to brand me a coward."  Maybe it was just the acoustics of the circular room, but it sounded like my voice was rising.  "Walking is different than running."

            "I see." said Bastila.

            I groaned.  "I didn't come out here to argue with you, you know." I said.  "I just wanted to find some caffa."

            "I believe that the Wookiee had made something a little earlier." she replied.  "The Mandalorian tried some, but I think only swallowed it for the sake of his ego."

            "So are you saying I should or shouldn't drink it?" I asked dryly.

            "Perhaps you should rest more." Bastila suggested.  "It's not everyday that one experiences the death of a planet."

            "I just need some food in me." I grumbled.  "Not more rest."

            "So you say." Bastila sighed.  "You should probably talk to Carth at any rate.  That man worries far too much."

            "There is no talking to that man." I muttered.  "I'd rather bash my head into a wall."

            "Yet you say this as you're headed towards the cockpit." Bastila retorted.  She didn't even bother to look up.

            I tried to think of something witty to reply to her with, but couldn't.  I settled for sticking my tongue out at her.  If Bastila saw, then she ignored me.  I walked to the cockpit.

            Carth was in the pilot's seat and appeared to be completely engrossed with some random navigational equipment.  I leaned on the doorframe and watched him.  Carth wore the orange jacket now, albeit with a scorched hole in the shoulder.  Maybe I should've offered to patch it up or something if it meant that much to him.

            The muscles in his neck stiffened and he twisted around to face me.  Shock was quickly replaced by relief in his features.

            "What are you doing up?" he asked.

            "Resting." I replied.  "So don't tell me I need anymore of it.  Is it true you're refusing to let anyone else pilot this flying bucket?"

            "I would," he yawned.  "if I could find someone qualified."

            "Right now, a half-dead show-off is the best option we've got?" I teased.

            "I'm fine." Carth insisted.  He rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

            "I'm sure."  I walked over and gripped his chin firmly in my hand.  I tilted his head up to face me.

            Carth shot me an angry look, but the sagging purple bags beneath his red rimmed eyes were all I needed to see.  The idiot was exhausted.

            "How long have you been up?" I asked.

            "It doesn't matter."  He brushed my hand away.

            "It matters to me if you fall asleep and steer us into an asteroid field."  I crossed my arms.

            "That won't happen." Carth snorted.  "We're in hyperdrive right now.  Nothing's going to happen until we reach the coordinates outside Dantooine's atmosphere."

            "Then go to sleep." I commanded.

            "But what if something happens?" he protested.

            "I'm watching things now." I assured him.  "If something blows up, I'll wake you."

            "No thanks."   Carth smirked.  "I'd rather stay up and keep an eye on things."

            "Then I'm going to stay here and keep an eye on you." I said. 

            Carth laughed.  "Then I should have no problem staying up.  There's no way I could fall asleep with your big mouth hanging around."

            I ground my teeth.  "Nerf-herder."