Floating in hyperspace somewhere en route to Mandalore, Satine was getting acquainted with the Zygerrian female she had just freed. Her name was Cressidra, and she was sharing a gruesome story with her rescuer. Considering how outraged and traumatized Cressidra was, she hadn't taken long warming up to Satine, once made sure that the woman had no ulterior motives behind her unwarranted help.
Satine was occupying the pilot seat, F-39 was operating the co-pilot chair all the while keeping an eye on the Zygerrian (in wild space, one could never trust a stranger completely), who was sitting on a rotating stool in the middle.
"Why are you doing this?" Cressidra asked, holding herself tightly, as if seeking a comfort she could no longer have.
There was a faint hint of a shrug on Satine's behalf.
"Why not?" came her quite sincere reply. She was too tired and achy to express herself more expansively, her utter annoyance at the current state of galactic affairs transpiring quite literally from her tone.
Cressidra considered her for a moment, before adding: "Why me?"
Satine sighed. She stood up before sitting back down again, seemingly incapable of finding a comfortable position. The baby was constantly kicking and flipping inside of her, probably agitated by them being in hyperspace, and her back and limbs hurt quite a lot. She needed to lie down so bad, but knew she couldn't. Rest would have to wait.
"It was my intention to evacuate a dear...friend of mine away from the slavers, away from the planet, before it became his tomb. Alas, I couldn't carry this task out by myself. Hence, we are headed to Mandalore, where my allegiance resides, for reinforcements. I couldn't save the one I wanted to save, so...I freed you instead. One small victory, I guess"
Cressidra looked at her in silence, seemingly impressed.
"Tell me: how did you find yourself in that abhorrent situation?" Satine asked.
Cressidra combed long fingers through her dark fur, her eyes suddenly glassy with pain.
"I was just trying to rescue my dear ones myself..." and she burst in tears.
Satine listened to her crying without saying anything. As much as she wished to sympathize with the Zygerrian, her own discomfort and concern were preventing her from being more involved.
"...Zygerria is a terrible place. As of recently, even more so. It is where I hail from, but at times I can hardly recognize Zygerrians, or Zygerrian society, anymore. The misery brought on by the Clone Wars has provided it with plenty of opportunities to unearth the darkest practices of its most shameful past, by reviving and intensifying large-scale slavery, for instance. The galactic political wind that blows is not a good one, either. I am a social worker. My sister was part of an organization which vied for the abolishment of slavery, and, after many years in the field, witnessing the recrudescence of this practice, she sought to enter politics. That move marked her end. She was persecuted and eventually eliminated by public execution...alongside many members of her party. Her husband was enslaved, as it is customary with Zygerrian tradition: the relatives of a public figure found guilty of treason must "give back" to society by giving up their freedom. Aware of this, knowing the government to be after her family, my sister entrusted her daughters to me, right before dying. My two nieces are the reason I was captured. I failed to protect them, when the guards came to claim them. I was captured while approaching the filthy wastelands where they were laboring...and you know the rest. Slavery remains in a legal grey zone by Zygerrian law, so it was three unofficial "enforcers" who proceeded to bring me - a social disrupter - to the moon where I was to be trafficked" Cressidra recounted. She was understandably shaken, so silence ensued.
"I am sorry" Satine whispered.
"And you? How come have you got so many...resources?" Cressidra inquired.
Satine smirked, feeling sarcastic. Resources. She wished.
"Let's say that I am into politics like your sister was...and got in trouble for that as well" she didn't feel like disclosing her true identity so soon.
"Whomever it is you were trying to rescue must be important, for you to mobilize yourself in such a dagerous place, in your condition..." Cressidra alluded to her state of pregnancy.
Satine nodded, the Zygerrian's words resonating in her ears.
"Quite so...depending on the viewpoint" she replied, feeling a weight oppressing her chest. The weight of Obi-Wan's uncertain fate.
"I was pregnant too, once" Cressidra admitted.
Satine raised an eyebrow "Really?"
"My cubs didn't survive their first year" Cressidra threw in with resigned acceptance.
"Ow" Satine felt sincerely saddened. How miserable of a life Cressidra seemed to have. During the last weeks, she had been positive to have hitten the bottom of misery, but apparently, this wasn't the case. Her problems drastically shrunk in size when she compared them with the heartache the Zygerrian had to go through. The tension she experienced by hosting a stranger in her spaceship slowly started to dissipate, for she could sense the woman's grief and inherent good intentions.
"That must be terrible" Satine said.
"A typical Zygerrian litter is composed of 3-8 cubs. I had 4. They are born deaf and blind, with a weak immune system and as a result, many don't survive their first months. When mine were born, there unortunately was a typhoid fever epidemic, caused by unsanitary sewerage conditions. Zygerria maintains some of its past splendour, but the economic crisis makes it difficult for the planet to truly progress. Being far from the Core doesn't help. I had to work, so I left them in the care of a wet nurse, who soon fell ill. My cubs followed suit...it was devastating. They were gone within days"
Satine was speechless at how much Cressidra seemed to have internalized tragedy, to the point of making the passing of her cubs sound normal. She squirmed, suddenly anxious.
"So, I gather you're attempting to return to Mandalore? With reinforcements?" Cressidra changed subject, realizing that the atmosphere had become heavy inside the spaceship.
Satine confirmed it, realizing where the conversation was leading.
"Bring me back, too. I want to save my nieces. They're all I've got left" the sinewy Cressidra pleaded with a feline, determined gaze.
They started making plans in that regard, as Satine considered the possible complications arising from contact with Mandalorians. However, she soon realized it was becoming progressively hard to keep her mind focused, her pain increasingly difficult to ignore.
They were halfway through the skyroute, both Obi-Wan and Cressidra's nieces were in dire need of help, but Satine realized they had to make a stop, for she could handle piloting the ship no more. She needed to take a rest.
The spaceship came out of hyperspace in a largely desolated portion of space. Satine put the spacecraft in "sleep mode" with a stabilizing autopilot in place, then walked towards a cot, with F-39 and Cressidra in tow.
She lied on the mattress, feeling nuseous. Her legs and feet were quite swollen, and she was ashen.
"Are you all right?" Cressidra inquired, her ears perking up. Zygerrians were very intuitive. F-39 beeped.
"I believe sleep is all I nee...OH!" Satine couldn't even finish her sentence when she realized that something was wetting the bedsheets beneath her. Her waters had broken. The baby had picked that day, of all days - mid-space, while they were in a rush - to come.