Chapter Text
The Ebon Hawk takes off with a shuddering gasp of hydraulics, each collide of falling debris rocking the ship as it navigates its way out of the crumbling remains of Malachor V. Sparking wires and distorted pieces of metal litter the cabin floor, and the crew rushes about to patch what they can to get to hyperspace. The portside dormitory seems folded in two, some of the bunks bent so that they resemble reclined seats rather than beds, and the entirety of the cargo hold has been practically inverted, ugly spikes of metal forcing their way from the outside in.
Bao-Dur is at work welding the hold, attempting to reinforce what won’t survive if they attempt a jump anytime soon. Across the room Mical rips sheet metal from the inside walls of the ship for material, knowing he does not have the knowledge to fix but is trying to do what he can to help. HK-47 and Visas work the hallways, the latter holding broken pieces in place while the droid melds them together. In the cockpit, Atton and Mira are overriding systems, bypassing others, and trying to force the ship into hyperspace despite its complaints.
“Our navigation’s been overridden!” Atton shouts from up front. “We’ll be flying blind if we don’t change our course. Get that rust bucket up here and make it deactivate the voice lock!”
Meetra’s head is pounding. Kreia’s death gashes at her mind like a wound in her side, and the crew’s thoughts are pouring into her head. Doubts and calculations and distractions and something else. A promise asked of her, from someone whom she’d never met but somehow knew exactly what he’d gone through, and a droid who had held their own promises with the man. She pushes through the clouding of her mind and makes her way to the astromech droid, who’s back at the hyperdrive.
“Teethree, we need to know where we’re headed,” her voice is barely audible over the alarms and rock hailing on the ship. “You aren’t seriously considering taking us to Revan, are you?”
The droid is unresponsive. A desperate groan escapes Meetra’s lips.
“Teethree, you have to help us!”
Three things happen in rapid succession. Malachor V erupts, sending a blast wave that rocks the ship, its inner contents jolted from their spots. Atton makes the jump to hyperspace shortly after, headed to a destination unknown at lightspeed. And Meetra is thrown against the ship’s walls, smacking her head against the metal and finally being granted with the silence to clear her mind.
The first thing she notices is how still she feels. She quickly dismisses the idea that they had fixed the ship so well that it was cruising peacefully through space, and concludes that they must be landed. The second thing she notices is the stinging pain coming from her left temple. Her eyes open to the blinding lights of the medical bay as she struggles to sit up.
“Careful now, don’t need you going back under.” Mira calls from the other side of the room where she’s seated on the floor. “You missed all the fun stuff...You know, I’m beginning to question our fearless pilot. I think we crash more often than we land.”
Meetra feels her head with a delicate hesitation. There’s a large lump, and she traces the dried blood caked in her hair with a frown. There’s no healing herself when her head’s pounding like it is. She’ll have to wait until she can focus. Almost on cue, Visas appears in the doorway.
“You’ve awoken,” she says, heading to Meetra’s side with the same eerie grace she’s always had. She reaches towards Meetra tentatively. “Do you need help?”
Meetra swings her legs to the side of the bed and waves Visas off of her.
“I’m fine.” It might have been more convincing if she hadn’t winced in the middle of it.
“It will not take long, you need to rest.” Visas insists. Meetra relents. Visas runs her hand cautiously over Meetra’s injury, the silence hanging awkwardly between the three of them. Somehow Visas manages to make her feel like she’s being watched without eyesight. It’s always been a little disconcerting, the way the Miraluka had devoted herself to Meetra so wholly, but she brushes it off as an odd form of affection. The pain fades to a dull ache, and Visas steps away while Meetra stands. Mira and Visas follow Meetra out to the main hold.
Atton does a double take as Meetra joins him, Mical, and Bao-Dur across the glitching map displaying in the center of the room. The cabin is uncomfortably warm - they must have lost environment control when the ship crashed. Their voices echo softly in the back of Meetra’s mind, but she ignores them, trying to keep her headache from worsening.
“Good, I-” Atton clears his throat. “We were getting worried. Last thing we need is someone out while we’re down.”
“Heard we came in a little rough,” Meetra chides. Whatever expression he had previously been wearing turns to a scowl, his eyes flicking over to where Mira leans against the wall.
“You try landing this thing with half power and no navigation, then we’ll talk.” He returns.
At the thought of the navigation controls, Meetra glances about the room. T3-M4 is nowhere to be found. Bao-Dur watches her movements until he catches her eye.
“We broke down before we found our destination,” he explains. “Teethree can’t help us here.”
“Where are we then?” Meetra asks. The map displaying on the holoscreen is indeterminable and flickering. The planet looks barren from what she can catch between blinks of the display. Atton curses as he smacks the console with his fist, making the already dim projection waver in protest.
“Somewhere along the Tion cluster, but exactly where I’m not sure.” He hits the dashboard again for good measure. “I saw a fueling station due east before we went down, hopefully they’ll have the parts we need.”
“I’ve managed to patch up the speeder in the garage.” Bao-Dur provides. “It can carry two at most with supplies.”
“I’ll go.” Meetra meets questioning stares with an unwavering gaze. Their voices increase, garbled and worrying and doubtful.
“You sure? I mean, you did just take a hyperdrive to the face.” Mira comments. And fight three Sith lords. She doesn’t say it, but the message is conveyed.
“I will accompany you,” Mical adds. “If you will have me.” Atton’s scowl turns to a full frown, glaring from Meetra to Mical.
“No offense bud,” Atton says. “But even if you knew what parts we needed, you wouldn’t last five seconds in the kind of place we’re headed.” Bao-Dur, who seems if anything entertained by the situation, leans over to Meetra as Mical counters.
“Sure you’re okay to go, General?”
“I’ll be fine.” She repeats. “I just need to get out a bit. It’s kind of....loud here.” He gives a short nod. Bao-Dur’s thoughts have been surprisingly quiet since their departure from Malachor. Whether it’s for her benefit, or his own healing, she’s grateful.
“I don’t want to attract scavengers, so I’m going to take communications offline. I’ll send a signal out at dawn for you to find your way back. I’ll give you our frequencies.” Meetra nods, turning her attention back to the argument.
“If you think I’m gonna spend my time sweltering away in this metal box with nothing but droids and you for company, you’ve got another thing coming.” Atton finishes. Mical sighs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. The lights flicker in the cabin, ending the feud. The sooner they head out, the better.
They load up the speeder with food, water and other supplies, while Atton and Meetra prepare for the trip. The station couldn’t be more than a day’s travel away if they keep up decent speed, but given their luck, they’re taking no chances. The door to the hold lowers onto the planet’s surface, and the crew step out onto the unknown world.
The ship’s landed in what seems like a dried up canyon, former riverbed stretching on for miles before the rise of the ridges of the canyon. There’s something else - an emptiness that goes beyond the nothingness that plagues the barren wasteland. Meetra tightens her cloak around her face as the wind picks up. The air is thin and dry, and the two suns beat down on the parched earth intensely. Her clothing is lightweight and covers every inch of her body, no weapons other than her lightsaber that hangs heavily from her belt loops under her cloak. She can already feel the beads of sweat on the back of her neck. Atton’s right, the Ebon Hawk is going to be nothing but an oven until they get their systems back online.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She warns as Atton swings his leg over the speeder seat.
“I’m the pilot, I’m driving.” he counters.
“Flying the ship hardly gives you rights to any transportation we happen to use.” Atton adjusts his cloak to make room for her, not showing any signs of moving.
“You can drive the way back. Deal?” Meetra groans, joining him on the speeder behind him. She sends a lazy salute back to Bao-Dur, who returns it with slightly more formality before following Visas and Mical back on the ship. Mira raises her eyebrows, glancing from Meetra to Atton, and turns away without a word. The worn-out engine roars to life, and Atton glances over his shoulder, smirking. “You better hold on.” She keeps her hands gripped on the seat behind her, glaring at him from beneath her hood. He revs the engine, jumping the speeder forward a few feet, and she flings her arms around his waist on impulse.
“Asshole.” She murmurs. He starts forward, slower this time, and soon enough they’re zipping across the harsh desert, wind whipping her cloak behind her like a tattered banner. She adjusts her position so her hands rest lightly on his hips, turning to watch the Ebon Hawk grow smaller and smaller, until it’s no more than a pinprick on the horizon.
They’ll be fine. The main systems of the Ebon Hawk are functional. They could last for months, albeit sweaty, uncomfortable months, but months nonetheless, before they started running into trouble. A question looms over her head. And then what? What do they do after the ship is fixed? The wind is deafening, allowing her to push the idea from her mind, and let her thoughts fade to static. The walls of the canyon grow before them, blocking out the sun when they get too close. The shadows provide instant relief from the heat, and Meetra curses their luck for not landing in the shade. Atton slows the speeder to skim the canyon’s perimeter, searching for an opening. After a few minutes they find a part in the rock, jagged narrows inviting them away from the riverbed. They both take one last look at the ship before disappearing into the canyon lands.