The display on the shelf at the head of the bed read 04:27.
Ellra sighed and sat up.
"Too early," she mumbled.
BB-8 was dark and silent, sitting in the charging station. A yellow charging indicator glowed near his eye.
She got up and checked the paddock monitors. Nothing unusual. The cappa seemed to have taken to their new pen quickly. Most of them were asleep.
"I have no idea what to do," Ellra whispered to the room.
She shook off her sleep, grabbed her data pad, and left the room, leaving BB-8 to charge in peace.
There were more people in the corridors than she had anticipated, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense that the base never really slept. Medical technicians, data technicians, maintenance – they scurried back and forth on important work, even at five in the morning. Several of them smiled and nodded at Ellra as they passed. She almost felt out of place.
She found her way outside eventually. The sky was a violet-black with a sliver of silver peeking over the hilltops. The main hangar was already open. Two Y-wings were being brought outside and several service droids were performing last-minute checks. Two pilots in their orange jumpsuits were holding their helmets and talking. A couple of officers followed them out, discussing plans on their datapads.
"M-may I watch you take off?" asked Ellra, projecting her voice across the valley.
The two pilots stopped and turned. They laughed good-naturedly and nodded, motioning Ellra over.
"You're the animal keeper," said the first pilot, an older woman with very short hair.
Ellra nodded before saluting the two pilots. They returned the gesture professionally.
"You haven't seen a fighter take off?" asked the first pilot.
"Never. The shuttle I rode here was the first spacecraft I saw up close."
The second pilot had a big silvery, whiskered face. He didn't seem capable of speaking Basic. He appeared to smile at Ellra. She returned the smile.
The second pilot said something wet and floppy.
The first pilot chuckled and said, "Kip says you're in for a treat."
"Please stand back," said one of the officers. "If you're going to watch, step over there."
Ellra saluted everyone present and headed over to the big grey crate the officer had indicated. She climbed up on it to sit and watch. The pilots donned their helmets and entered their respective craft.
The Y-wings were massive and lumbering and looked much older than Ellra herself. Something told her that the older female pilot had flown that fighter during the Rebellion. Their engines made a whine that was both low and high, vibrating a part of Ellra's ears she wasn't used to feeling stimulated. She watched the rotating domes of the two astromech droids behind the cockpits. The engines kicked up a thin cloud of dirty yellow dust from the sandy tarmac.
The hum of the engines vibrated in the hollow of Ellra's chest, resonating in her heart and her blood. She couldn't pinpoint the feeling reeling through her from her feet up to her head and back down, over and over. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched her datapad to her chest. Her jaw clenched as something tickled the back of her neck and inside her throat.
As the two craft turned in the same direction and slowly lifted off the ground, Ellra rose to her feet without realizing it. She could see the two pilots' faces in her mind's eye. She could feel the controls under her hands. Feel the ground fall beneath her. Taste the cold atmosphere.
Two figures stood in the door of the hangar, one tall and one very short, watching the way Ellra watched the takeoff.
Ellra couldn't take her eyes off the Y-wings as they rose into the air, the whine becoming unbearable, seemingly louder every second. In a few moments, they were out of sight, but her eyes were fixed on the point in the graying sky where they had disappeared, the memory of the engines' sound loud in her ear.
"Ell?" said a soft voice as a hand gently took her arm.
She shook off the trance and looked around to see Poe and BB-8, looking at her with concern. Poe's hand held her upper arm to steady her. There were pink marks in her forearms from clutching the datapad so tight.
"You ok?"
Boop?
"I…" She blinked. "I don't…"
Ellra shook her head gently. It was fuzzy.
"You're shaking," said Poe softly, putting his other hand on her other arm. "Blink your eyes. You haven't blinked in like five minutes."
She squeezed her eyes shut, not realizing until that second how dry they were.
Poe chuckled softly. "I've never seen that before. You hyper transfixed yourself on the fighters."
"I what?"
BB-8 beeped and whistled.
"You went into a trance watching the Y-wings take off," said Poe, looking over his shoulder at the sky.
"I… I am so sorry," whispered Ellra, backing away from Poe slowly, her bottom hitting the crate behind her. "I have never… I didn't know…"
"You're gonna make one helluva pilot someday," he whispered in awe.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, not catching what he said.
"BB-8 woke me up. Said you disappeared and he was worried. He asked me to help find you."
She smiled down at the little droid who whistled softly.
"Thank you, little friend," she said, smiling.
He beeped back.
It took a moment for Ellra to realize Poe still had hands on her shoulders. She was steadier now and her head was clear. There was no reason for him to keep doing that, especially considering the way his touch was making her feel.
"I am alright, Poe," she said softly. "I am sorry I worried you. I just…" Ellra trailed off to look back up at the sky. "I have never seen anything like it."
Poe was examining her eyes and she was grateful to several of her curls that gave her some privacy.
"I… I have work to do," she said. "See you later?"
Poe finally let his hands drop back to his sides. He nodded and stepped back so she could walk by.
She waved absently at BB-8 and left, gently shaking her head, trying to figure out what happened. Why could she remember the view from the Y-wing's cockpit in her mind's eye? Why did she feel imprints in her palms as if she'd had a death grip on a flight stick?
She looked down at her hand. A visible grip pattern was imprinted on the fleshy base of her thumb.
"Probably shouldn't hold it so tight," she whispered to herself absently.
A low, affectionate rumble interrupted Ellra's thoughts. She found herself standing in front of the cappa paddock's gate, a single cow greeting her with soft lows, Hold what so tight? echoing in the back of her mind.
She soon forgot the incident and went about her business caring for the cappa.
All seventeen were accounted for. They appeared to have enjoyed their first night on D'Qar. They made friendly noises to Ellra as she approached each of them to stroke their muzzles.
She made rounds inside and outside of the paddock, familiarizing herself with the layout and the security fence, examining her datapad every little bit to make sure she understood everything. She occasionally tested the integrity of the fence herself by climbing, kicking, and pushing it in places she thought might be weak. This was all routine for a new pen.
It was very late in the morning when a familiar small voice hailed Ellra as she punched some notes into her pad.
"Ilya!" she said joyfully, looking up at the young woman.
Ilya was as petite as a human being could be. She wore mechanic's overalls (a size too big) but an officer's badge – lieutenant, Ellra noticed. A belt hung at her narrow hips, heavy with tools and a small datapad; the whole thing looked like it doubled her body weight. She had violently, vividly red hair, chopped coarsely into a wavy mane around her face. When the sun peeped from behind a cloud, it looked like her head was on fire. Her hands were tiny but rough and calloused from hard work; her nails had chipped black polish on them.
"We missed you at breakfast. Wanted to make sure you were doin' okay. Okay?" she said, resting her hands on her toolbelt.
"Sorry. I didn't sleep well, so I had an early start. I got busy and totally forgot about eating," said Ellra, closing the screen. "I guess I should go have a big early lunch. I didn't hate all the food last night."
Ilya chuckled loudly, her laugh the biggest thing about her.
"I have to get to work. We're trying to get a new barracks installed in the west hill as we're expecting about seventy-five new recruits next month."
"Really?" said Ellra. "I didn't realize it all worked so fast."
"You'd be surprised," said Ilya, pulling a rainbow-dyed bandana from her pocket and tying it around her forehead, pulling the messy hair away from her face. "Glad we got to chat. Maybe see you at dinner?"
"Absolutely, lieutenant," said Ellra, smiling and saluting, almost properly this time.
It was close to midday, so Ellra finished up what she was doing in order to head down to the commissary.
It was already getting crowded and this was Ellra's first time here alone. She only felt a bit intimidated. Lunch wasn't quite as rowdy as dinner since everyone still had work to do. It moved more efficiently too.
She hopped in the rapidly moving line and grabbed her tray. Without someone to tell her what everything was, she just picked the most appetizing-looking food available, thinking there were far riskier moves. As hungry as she was, it almost didn't matter. Graciously, the pale green soup was delicious and mild and fresh.
As she ate, Ellra looked around for friendly faces. She saw Controller Connix eating with a couple of other young officers, deep in an important looking conversation. She saw a pilot from Red Squadron that Poe had introduced her to the night before, but he looked like he was in a bad mood. She saw people she had passed in corridors but they didn't notice her looking at them. She took a deep breath and told herself that she couldn't always sit with "the cool kids," and she would have to learn to be ok alone.
"I need to get a droid," she mumbled to herself resignedly.
Despite the casual loneliness, Ellra's first day on base was pleasant and uneventful. She couldn't really ask for a better outcome, considering how strange her situation was. After lunch, she returned to the paddock and made some notes about how the animals behaved.
She began to realize she didn't have enough work to do in caring for the animals. They only needed to be checked a couple of times a day and milked once a week. She would have to volunteer for other work on base to earn her keep.
She received a note on her datapad, her first one from another person. It was from Ilya.
Hey, it read. Ilya here. Had a structural collapse in the bottom level. No injuries – all safe. But had to bring in reinforcements so as not to further compromise the project. Unable to meet for dinner. Apologies. Raincheck?
Ellra felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of having to eat another meal alone, but also a thrill of friendly affection at being worthy of an apology note. She quickly wrote back that that was fine and she was glad everyone was safe. She looked forward to dinner another time.
"I have friends," she whispered to herself, smiling.
Another pleasant surprise found her eating dinner that evening with Poe and Oddy, a mechanic. They were deeply engaged in a conversation about mechanics and engineering, something so in-depth Ellra couldn't pick out half the words. It was like they were speaking another language. But that didn't bother her. She was grateful for the company.
She also plugged BB-8 into her datapad and had a very pleasant conversation with him while she ate. She found it sweet and funny that he spoke in broken sentences like a toddler. It almost looked like a data error, but she quickly realized that BB-8 was so excited about everything all the time he simply didn't have time to speak in complete sentences. Life was too precious to waste time on superfluous nouns.
BANG! Then Poe fell. Door locked! Slam-slam! Why door? Fuck! Ha ha Poe swear!
"He does swear!" laughed Ellra through a mouthful of salad. "Why was the door locked?"
Locked? Funny Jessika too fast. Poe mad. Jessika Karé laughing laughing. Poe laugh. Mad first. Then laugh.
"They all love each other, don't they?"
Love! So love! Poe –
BB-8 tried to roll in an excited circle, but he yanked the cord from the datapad and hit the next table as the pad hit the floor.
Ellra didn't need a translation for those beeps: "Ow."
"Sorry, baby," she said, helping BB-8 right himself.
"What are you doin' to my droid, Oka?" barked Poe playfully.
"I didn't do anything, D-Dameron!" barked Ellra right back, retrieving her datapad. "Good thing these are so tough."
"Yeah, you can't kill 'em," said Oddy, nodding towards the pad.
The two men returned to their conversation and left Ellra to finish her meal and comfort BB-8.
After dinner, she finally got to shower and put on fresh clothes. It took her over an hour to comb out her hair and braid the main part behind her head; the sacred beaded braids around her face stayed in place. She took her time to unpack her belongings. A handful of print books went on the shelf along with a plush cappa made from natural fleece and a knotted reed doll. She only had a few different outfits; she folded them and put them on the shelves beside the work station. Big boots, lighter boots, and flat peasant shoes were tucked under the bed; the lighter boots were her day-to-days, so they stayed in front.
Late that night found Ellra struggling to sleep again. After much tossing and turning, she turned to BB-8 who was watching her with concern.
"The days," she said simply.
He whistled curiously, cocking his head to the side.
"The length of days is different," said Ellra, reaching to pet BB-8's head. "I can't sleep because I'm not supposed to be."
He tweeted and whistled in recognition.
Doot doo?
"I have to stay up," she said, sitting up. "At least for a while."
BB-8 tweeted simply.
"You can sleep longer if you want, baby," she said, gesturing to the charging station.
BB-8 looked back and forth between Ellra and the outlet. He whistled resignedly and rolled over to plug in. She waited until his lights were off before leaving.
Days began to run together for Ellra. Being awake for almost twice as long as everyone else, with weird, interspersed sleeping periods in between, made socializing extremely difficult. She only had to check on the animals in person about three times a day; with her datapad strapped to her hip she had instant access to their wellbeing the rest of the time. There weren't a lot of meal options at 03:00. Even her casual acquaintances missed her cheerful affect at mealtimes.
For some strange reason, her most available friend was the gold-colored protocol droid she had seen with the general on the first day. When the general didn't need him, he would wander the corridors – "patrolling," he called it – and make sure everything was running smoothly. He spotted Ellra struggling with a heavy box of milking equipment in front of the hangar one day and introduced himself. He didn't help, of course. That wasn't what he was programmed for.
"Hello, Miss," he said, walking stiffly beside Ellra as she sweated. "I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. How may I be of service to you today?"
"…Could help me carry…" groaned Ellra as sweat ran into her eyes.
"Right away, Miss."
And he was gone.
She paused for a moment to look around the valley. Nothing.
"Bastard," she mumbled, a word she had picked up from Ilya.
Ilya called anything that wasn't helpful "bastard," be it man, machine, beast, or object. Ellra thought it humorous and picked it up.
When she was about half-way to the paddock, C-3PO reappeared along with a service droid to help carry the box of equipment.
"Oh, so you did hear me," panted Ellra, straightening as the service droid took most of the burden. "I was afraid you needed a tune-up."
"Me? A tune-up?" said C-3PO. "Goodness, Madam, I assure you that I am in the finest condition and up to all galactic standards for a protocol droid of my era."
"What era is that?" said Ellra, snippier than usual out of frustration. "The Clone Wars?"
If it was possible for a droid to huff, C-3PO would have huffed.
"I'll have you know, Madam – "
"I'm teasing you, Mister See," said Ellra, sighing in frustration as she and the service droid set the box on the ground in front of the paddock. "I'm just annoyed."
She finally got a good look at the protocol droid she was addressing. Up close, he was more banged-up than she had initially thought, but, like BB-8, she had the feeling he was well-cared for.
"Well, the pilots must adore you, Madam," said C-3PO his head swiveling in indignation. "Particularly Black Squadron and that boisterous Dameron person."
"Why do you say that?" asked Ellra, putting her hands on her hips and catching her breath.
"Why, isn't teasing the primary form of communication for those cocky flypeople? I'm fluent in over six million forms of communication and I still have trouble with that one."
"I didn't realize that," she said thoughtfully. "I will have to try it out. I still have trouble with it, too. I am unfamiliar with so many of these customs I have been exposed to."
"If you don't mind my asking, Madam," said C-3PO, "where are you from?"
Ellra's body language relaxed. She smiled.
"I am from a small rural village on Tawria. I am Ishta."
"Oh, I speak Ishta!" said C-3PO triumphantly. "Voru ta Ishta mae? Com te ka ko."
"Ishta isa to ye!" Ellra squealed, unable to contain her elation at meeting someone who could speak to her in her native tongue. "Ske es isa eneleka ko!"
C-3PO's pronunciation was flawless. Instead of a mechanical being, Ellra felt she was speaking to a distant family member. Of course, C-3PO didn't know anything about the Ishta's culture, but just speaking the language made Ellra feel at home again, just for a moment.
Ellra excused the service droid and began setting up the milking equipment as she told C-3PO about her life in her native language. He listened intently, whether he actually wanted to hear it or not. He conversed politely and patiently and filled her in on life on the base.
C-3PO regaled Ellra with some of the adventures he had with R2-D2 and General Organa and Han Solo and Chewbacca and Luke Skywalker in the past. She felt she was watching a vivid historical holodrama as she worked. She could picture the young heroes and the battles and the ships. She could hear Wedge Antilles' voice in Luke Skywalker's headset as they destroyed the first Death Star. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she saw Emperor Palpatine plummet to his death.
"You lived history, C-3PO," said Ellra, pausing her work to stretch and wipe sweat from her face. "You are the documentarian of the modern history of this galaxy."
"Well, when you put it that way, I do sound rather important," said C-3PO sitting on a crate and swiping at bugs flying near the exposed wires in his torso.
"Have you considered putting it all down?"
"Documenting everything I can remember?" he said, turning to look at her. "Perhaps that would be wise. I have seen many historically significant moments from a perspective no one else has, not even the princ – excuse me, General Organa."
"My people have almost no documented history, C-3PO," said Ellra, screwing a long plastic hose to the milking machine. "Almost everything we know about our ancestors, the history of our village, our language, is passed down orally." She paused and looked down, unable to keep a hint of fear creeping into her voice. "If something happened to us, no one would ever know we were even here."
C-3PO stared at her.
"That is a grim assessment, Madam. And if you'll excuse me for stating in such a way, many would know."
"Hmm?"
Ellra looked up.
"You have already touched hundreds of lives just by coming here, haven't you? Made friends, brought joy to others?"
"Yes," she said, nodding slowly.
"And most everyone knows you are Ishta," continued C-3PO.
"Yeah?"
"If you and your people disappeared tomorrow, your absence would be felt."
"That… Wow, C-3PO. What an incredibly kind thing to say. I'll never forget what you said. Thank you."
Ellra walked over and planted a kiss on the side of C-3PO's cold metal head.
"Oh, my," he said.
Later that day, in her spare time, Ellra sat cross-legged on top of a stack of newly unloaded supply crates, typing updates into the notes she kept about her animals. She wasn't bored per se, but part of her wanted someone to talk to.
She had been watching the ships taking off, relishing the exciting rumble they caused in her chest (she had yet to have another experience like the one she had her first morning on D'Qar), occasionally chatting with the mechanics and pilots.
She heard someone briskly walking past and looked up. It was Poe, crossing the landing field, and he didn't look himself: he wore his olive officer's uniform instead of the signature leather jacket he seemed sewn into, his usually unruly hair was slicked back with product, and his mouth was set in a thin, stern line.
She decided to implement the advice C-3PO had given her earlier. She cleared her throat and spoke as loudly and clearly from her perch as she could.
"You going on a date?"
The commander stopped short and whipped around to see who was addressing him. His eyes finally landed on Ellra above him and his face lit up at the sight.
"What…?" he asked, momentarily uncertain.
Poe glanced down at his clothes for a moment before it dawned on him: "Oh! You're making fun of me! Good job." He gave her a thumb's up.
Ellra beamed down at him, pleased silly with her effort and his response. She returned the gesture.
"Thanks," she said. "C-3PO suggested it."
"C…3PO…" said Poe slowly, "gave you advice… on teasing people…?"
She nodded cheerfully.
"Well, I mean, he is an expert in annoying people. I didn't expect that, though," said Poe, shaking his head. He added, "I got a meeting with the top brass. Gotta look my best!"
Ellra chuckled. "You do look handsome," she added emboldened by her successful joke. "I think the phrase is 'you clean up well'?"
Poe's cheeky grin turned self-conscious as he looked up at her.
"Not what I was going for, but I'll sure take it from you, Ell," he said, managing a wink.
"Don't kiss too much ass down there, okay?" Ellra ventured.
"Me? Never. I only kiss pretty faces," said Poe, winking and blowing a kiss in her direction.
Ellra thought she would faint.