Star Wars: Fragile Threads

Fragile Threads

 The dull droning persisted, penetrating a peaceful sleep. Drake Paulsen resisted the rude awakening. But the vivid stain of red tinging the darkness behind his eyelids did not subside. Fearing a ruptured plasma conduit, the Socorran pirate jumped up and reached for the extinguisher beside his bed.

"Nikaede, damage report!"

Expecting to awaken in chaos, with his ship imploding around him, Drake awoke instead to darkness, the urgent thunder of his own voice, and the incessant humming.

A familiar silhouette stood beside his bed. Glistening with sweat, her lithe, naked body was outlined by the illumination of the lightsaber. The deadly shaft cast sanguine reflections throughout his quarters.

"Tiaja?" he whispered.

She was taller than him by five centimeters, her black skin nearly as dark as the shadows. A plaited up mane of dreadlocks hung across her muscular shoulders as she slowly turned her head to regard him. There was no hint of recognition in her eyes.

Bursting through the bulkhead door, Drake's first mate Nikaede Celso charged into the room with her bowcaster. Sable fur bristling for a fight, the Wookiee roared a profanity-laced warning and aimed the weapon at Tiaja.

"Nikaede, stand down!" Drake ordered.

The Wookiee fired back with a slew of insults at her captain and refused to lower her guard.

"Nik, she's slepwalking again." Drake held his hand out to appeal to the Wookiee's sense and reason.

"Drake?" Lips quivering, Tiaja stared at the irate Wookiee and collapsed to the floor. The lightsaber disengaged in her hand and clattered across the deck plates.

Drake leaped from his bed and caught her, wrapping the sheet about them to preserve their modesty. "The nightmares again?"

Breathless, Tiaja nodded her head against his shoulder. "Worse, this time. They're so real." She trembled in his arms, grasping at his shoulders. "I've been honest with you, Drake. About everything. Who I am. What I am. What I've done."

Staring at the lightsaber laying on the deck, the Socorran stroked her hair. "And it's been appreciated, Tiaja, but I get the feeling you're not telling me everything."

"I come from Braksta, a village near the Trade Outpost on Dathomir."

"Where you used to run with a Nightsister clan," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I know. You told me all that. And how you made your living as a merc until you decided to part company with them."

"What I didn't tell you is that I have a little sister back on Dathomir. I left home to keep them from recruiting her and turning her into..." Tiaja looked away. "... into a monster like me. I left her there with an uncle, thinking she'd be safe. I was saving money to get her offworld. Away from the danger, but they've found her."

"The dreams?"

Tiaja wrapped her arms around Drake's neck. "Since our parents died, there's a bond between us. She's been reaching out to me, but didn't know how to control it. Drake, they're going to kill her."

"Why would they kill her when they can train her to be a merc like them?"

"The Nightspider Clan was decimated by the Empire. Only a few of them survived the assault. They believe the souls of their dead sisters were reincarnated in the bodies of girls born on Dathomir. Girls like me and my sister. With a connection to the Force. To release these trapped souls, they have a ritual, the Talakun. They take the chosen girls to the bottom of their clan stronghold and leave them to the cavern spiders.