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BEING COOPED UP in a battleship with Mace Windu, stuck at Obi-wan's hip and awaiting the all clear to jump to hyperspace was not Araminta's ideal way to spend an afternoon. But that was how she was spending her time, lying in her onboard quarters with her feet in the air and staring at the ceiling.
Anakin and Ahsoka were in charge of breaking the blockade over the atmosphere of Ryloth, a planet under brutal occupation by Separatist droids, the native Twi'lek's terrorised and being denied food, medicine and other resources. Once the blockade was gone, it was Obi-wan and Windu's job to mount a ground assault, which by default included Araminta.
There had already been delays, which Araminta unfortunately suspected was due to Ahsoka's first time acting as Commander to her own squadron, but she had stayed quiet during the transmission. They had one more planetary rotation left before the invasion was postponed. Araminta knew the Twi'lek people couldn't wait that long, but had to simply believe Anakin would figure something out like he always managed to.
The door to her quarters opened and Araminta jumped to attention as Obi-wan entered, standing half in the doorway. "We're leaving," he announced. "We're needed on the bridge."
Araminta followed him swiftly and silently, as the giant ship began to rumble and lift off, troopers sprinting past them as they locked in for takeoff. "They figured it out?" Araminta asked Obi-wan as they moved, the clones making way for the Jedi as they walked through the corridors.
"Anakin said to go ahead with the invasion. That the Twi'lek people couldn't wait any longer," Obi-wan replied, hands held behind his back. Araminta frowned at the news. "Their forces are halved. Whatever he does will be mad," Obi-wan added with a sigh.
"Do we not expect that these days?" Araminta asked lightly. Obi-wan scoffed a bit as they entered the bridge.
"General on deck," one of the clones announced.
Windu turned to the pair as they approached, the glow of hyperspace surrounding them. "Solarii," he greeted with a dip of his head.
"Windu," she echoed.
The Jedi said nothing at her lack of using a title, as her eyes drifted away from him. Over the year and half she had been present in their ranks, her distaste for him that had formed that fateful day with the Council had long faded. She had far bigger problems than a single Jedi not liking her for, at the time, valid reasons.
There was always a certain shift in the air, however, when she was around someone who knew the mass of scar tissue that moved under her sleeve. Anakin and Obi-wan didn't count, but Araminta so rarely saw Jedi from the Council she could almost forget that there were others that harboured her secret.
A secret she, of course, had not made. It was the Order's choice to keep the true nature of her training under wraps for fear of distrust and questioning. It was still working out for them, but she suspected more people had been included in the loop since, including the Supreme Chancellor, who looked at Araminta in a way that unnerved her whenever she would face him. She wouldn't blame him for his distrust– he was a prime target for someone to hire an Octavian to assassinate.
