My Unfortunate Fate

chapter 82

Fear is a flaw only the weakest of us combat.

Nothing is out of the ordinary. When we walk into the war room, holo chattering and crew conversations are audible. Everything is normal until a holo appears beside Admiral Yularen. Holos are in no way exceptional...however, this one is different. I can feel it.

"All right Admiral," Anakin says, "what's so important you brought us all the way back...here?"

I cannot believe my eyes. The figure on the holo—striped lekku covering the back of her head, orange skin peeking through the gaps in her shirt, dressed in a blue-grey, armour-like dress—turns around. Her wide, blue eyes strike me first.

Ahsoka.

"Hello, Master," she says. "It's been a while."

Anakin is positively floored. I am no different. I see his eyes widen, his jaw drop, and his brows shoot up.

Beside Ahsoka, there is a Mandalorian woman. Based on Obi-Wan's descriptions of her—blue armour and a helmet design mimicking the face of an owl—I guess this is Bo-Katan Kryze, leader of the Death Watch, a violent subgroup of Mandalorian fundamentalists. They fought against Satine Kryze's peaceful rule, stating that combat is a fundamental element of their culture. Since Satine's death, I can only assume Mandalore has been in a state of political chaos. I'll have to ask Padmé about that.

"Ah—Ahsoka... Wha—" Anakin stammers, at a loss for words. Nervously, he starts to chuckle. "I don't believe it! How are you? Where are you? Are—Are you okay?"

From shocked to awkward to concerned. Nothing could be more Anakin than that.

"I'm all right. Thank you," Ahsoka says in an even tone. "I wish we had more time to talk, but I have urgent information for both of you."

I nod to prove I am listening, urging her to go on.

"Lady Bo-Katan and I have located the renegade Sith Lord, Maul. And if we move swiftly, we believe we can capture him."

Anakin and I look at each other. Going after Maul is dangerous, but if anyone is up to the task, it's Ahsoka.

***

I hate how tired pregnancy makes me feel. I have to take at least one or two rests throughout the day, and after a battle, I cannot sleep less than ten hours.

I rest a hand on my forehead, my skin is scalding. Of course, I feel scorching after I put on a cardigan.

I sigh, push away the comforter, and sit up. I slowly, tiredly unbutton my top layer, then pry it off my arms, suddenly hit by the cold, stale air. I shove the bundled-up cardigan under my bed, hurrying to bury myself in blankets. When I do, I exhale, basking in this comfortable warmth.

Finally, I doze off to dream of rolling hills and tranquillity.

***

I wake, startled and sweaty, in my dark room.

My racing heart and wheezing lungs coalesce into the heaving of my chest. I do not know why I am in a panic. My first instinct is that something is wrong with Anakin, as that is often the case.

I decide to lay on my back and breathe, in and out, in three-second intervals. Breathe in for three seconds, hold for three seconds, and breathe out for three seconds. Anakin taught me this technique when we were fifteen and practising meditation. A few times, when I plunged into hysteria, he instructed me to follow these steps, and it helped tremendously.

I press a hand to my chest to convince myself that I'm safe, and then to my belly to ensure the baby is, too.

Fingertips rap gently against my door. I leave my shelter of warmth and walk to it, my feet flinching on the cold metal floor. I pull it open and Anakin, standing in the doorway, pulls his robe over his chest, covering himself.