Prologue: Another Ordinary Day
It was a morning like any other. That was what would continue to strike at her for the rest of her life. It had started out simply, to get up and get to the 'freshers, get herself ready for another day of grueling soldiering for the Republic. Dressed smartly in her uniform, with its brass buttons lined up perfectly down her wiry, well-muscled body, with her blaster on her hip and her few badges pinned in place, she'd lined up for the daily nose-count and then been assigned to starship patrol duty. Since the "mighty" Jedi had been taken onboard for the virtually nonexistent war effort, the patrols had been increased to twice daily, and she was being picked to lead groups more and more often. Outwardly she projected no emotion, but inwardly her soul was singing; starfighter patrol was her favorite duty, the only one she really enjoyed.
Of course, that was what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
She'd been found at a crashed starfighter, or so her records said. With no memory previous to the crash, unable to even remember what had brought her down or if she'd even seen the craft before, she grudgingly accepted that she had no idea of who she was.
Oh, she could remember the little things, like what the Republic was and how to cook a good meal; how to handle a blaster with stare-inducing accuracy and how to make love. But things like who her parents were, who she looked like, what planet she'd been born on, even her birth name. These things were lost to her, and she feared it forever to be so.
The Republic's slicers had apparently found her records a few months later; they claimed she was a fighter pilot and a soldier for the Galactic Republic, serving for three and a half years now and making her way up through the ranks with distinction. She'd been on a classified mission of some sort (she suspected it would remain classified; she could hardly tell anyone what it was about anyway.) and had been shot down by an unknown enemy. Her name was Ais'liin Vhel, a Mandalorian-born warrior, who'd somehow wound up serving the Republic after an infamous career as a smuggler of spice and blasters and hiring out her warmongering skills to anyone with the credits.
But if that was the case, if she was indeed a Republic soldier, then why in all the worlds did she feel disgust for the Republic and the way it was run? Maybe it was the depressed disillusion of someone who'd seen too much, but she had the distinct feeling like this wasn't where she supposed to be. Serving on some kriffing warship out in the Outer Rim territories, only getting to fly patrol when the roster shifted or someone was ill, slowly getting angrier and angrier with the entire situation.
Sighing, she popped her canopy and took a deep breath of the sterilized air of the hangar bays. Chemicals, coolant, fuel and cleaners filled her senses. She remembered how to repair things, was fairly good at technological things, and thusly her fighter was kept in better repair than those who simply relied on the droids. Reluctantly, wondering exactly what the penalty would be if she just flew right back out of the shields and disappeared, she climbed out of her cockpit and wandered down to the mess hall.
The food, if food it could be properly called, was slightly more than revolting, but the vegetables were hard to mess up. What was supposed to be nerf broth looked more like Hutt-sick and the slowly wriggling mass of pale green-blue tubers, which a nearby soldier with dark hair seemed to have no difficulty in downing, was disgusting looking. One eyebrow raised in her permanent expression of disdain, and no one moved to bother her; talented fighter pilot she may be, but no one messed with a Mando.
In fact, it was probably because of the not-too-recent-but-not-too-long-ago war with the Mandalorians; she briefly wondered which side she was on. Probably better not to ask, she told herself, and sat down in the hastily vacated spot across from the tuber-gulping soldier. He glanced up, and she got a glimpse of deep whiskey-colored eyes crinkling, before he looked down again with an understandable red stain spreading slowly across his cheeks.
According to most of the male soldiers, of which males outnumbered the females by five to one, Ais'liin was considered to be beautiful. Ruthless and unforgiving, but beautiful. Her hair, a dark black-brown with red highlights, was tightly braided and coiled at the base of her neck; when it was free, which was rare, it flowed in soft waves nearly to her waist and many men were convinced that it was one of a very few 'soft' things about her. Her eyes were an odd color, a grey-green that was more icy than grassy, and it was said that even her commanding officers were disturbed by looking her square in the eyes. Short and a little compact, with more muscle mass than normal for most human females, she was still lithe and sinuous, and was widely known for her right hook punch; in the off-duty cantina, an ensign had once accused her of cheating at pazaak and had quickly learned that Ais'liin was happy to live up to her birth-people's standards of violence. After that, she'd stuck to running the simulators in the Rec room and the ensign had apparently lost his interest in pazaak.
A little intrigued by the man who somehow dared to keep glancing at her, she kept the corner of her eye on him as she bolted down her scran and left the mess hall; he was familiar looking, and that just added on to the growing pile of "Things About the Republic that are NOT as They Should Be." She knew she'd not seen him before, but she felt as if she should have seen him, as if she should know him. Irritated with herself, she shrugged the strange feeling off and headed aft. With a quick glance at her chrono, she realized that she had enough free time left for a flight simulation or two, and took quick advantage of the rec room being nearly empty; the Jedi were keeping everyone on their toes.
After beating her previous sim record by four minutes and fifteen more kills (she currently held the top-ranked score on the entire ship) before she was shot down by an unseen enemy, she left the simulator and finished her duties. Just another ordinary day.
Until the dream came back.
Author's Note: Alrighty, there's the prologue. Read and Review please, as always.