"Sorry, I didn't see you there."
Mal turns toward the person clumsy enough to walk into her, a young woman nervously gripping the satchel strap resting on her shoulder. She's dressed in a crisp uniform, brown hair cut choppily above the ears. Fresh recruit, early twenties, left-handed, single blaster at the hip. The information streams through Mal's head as she flashes the girl a disarming smile.
"Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have been standing here daydreaming."
The soldier returns the smile, tension easing from her shoulders. "Admiring the view?"
Mal turns back to the Republic cruiser gleaming through clouds of dust.
"Assignment actually." She can feel the girl's assessing gaze from head to toe. "Independent contract."
The soldier nods. "I heard rumors they've been doing some outside recruiting. We'll take whatever help we can get." She extends a hand. "I'm Lara."
Mal hesitates a moment before accepting. She meets Lara's gaze as a morbid daydream bleeds into her vision. Grey eyes stare vacantly into the distance, curved lips slightly parted, blood flowing down from the dull slab of metal embedded into her skull. The image lasts only a second before it's gone.
"Mal. Nice to meet you."
Lara grabs her strap again. "I'll see you onboard." She smiles and walks into the crowd of soldiers moving toward the hangar bay.
Mal takes a deep breath before chuckling at the gruesome scene she just imagined. You're sick in the head. She begrudgingly starts one of the grounding exercises her therapist sternly recommended after the accident. My name is Mal Korra. I'm 28 years old. I'm standing outside of a docking bay. This morning I woke up in a Republic military base. I'm the best smuggler… I was the best smuggler this side of the galaxy till I got caught. I'm working on the Endar Spire for the next six months. When my contract is over, I'll have enough credits to retire on a planet far, far away from this damn war.
It takes five more deep breaths before her body feels like its own again. Mal grabs the bag resting at her feet and takes the first step toward what she can only hope will be her last job.
There's too much noise. Blaring alarms. Sparking equipment. Battle cries cut off too quick. It's endless and it makes it hard to focus. The bottoms of her shoes are slick with blood. That's the other thing, the blood. There's too much of it. This isn't just a capture mission; it's a slaughter. Bodies hide in every crevice, preferably still whole and not strewn about in pieces. It makes the halls easier to navigate under the flickering lights. Mal rides out the tremors of another explosion before moving on. An easy job gone to shit so quick.
Are you really surprised? Trouble finds you wherever you go.
But she always manages to escape it. The rest of the crew isn't so lucky. They're the only ones left, Mal and the guiding voice in her ear. The one belonging to a living being. The distinction is important since her subconscious won't stop screaming about the wrongness of it all.
You shouldn't even be here. How could you let them take you? You should've fought harder. You should've run when you had the chance.
Mal grits her teeth, digs her fingernails into her palms because now isn't the time. She still has to get to the escape pods. There's movement around the corner. A pair of Sith soldiers toeing at a corpse. Mal takes a deep breath, sinks into the calm, and takes aim at that sweet spot between the helmet and chest. They drop beside their victim forming a broken triangle of bodies. She refuses to look, too afraid of seeing brown hair and grey eyes.
You could've warned her she was about to die.
Mal moves on. One of the soldiers got a lucky shot to her hip. She's bleeding but it's a minor detail considering the Endar Spire is about to tear apart in the cold vacuum of space.
You just had to fall in love with space. Couldn't have picked the forests or deserts or the oceans. You chose the one thing not made for living creatures. But you always want what you can't have. Always chasing after the impossible knowing it'll lead to your doom. They warned you; everyone warned you not to go down this path but you-
"You're almost there. Keep going!"
His voice cuts through the mania like a slap in the face. Mal digs her fingers into the wound at her side. The pain is sharp, steadying. A reminder. The voice in her head silences. This ship will not be her grave.