The shuttle plummeted steadily, slicing through the thick stratus clouds that hovered over Sorgan's sprawling, deep green forests and glistening swamps. The planet's patchwork landscape came into view, a delicate mixture of flatlands and watery marshes speckled with small, tightly woven towns.
From above, Dakota could see lines of krill traps dotting the still waterways, their placement meticulous and purposeful. Krill wasn't just food here—it was livelihood.
She sat in the cockpit, allowing Rex to pilot them down as she anxiously took in the scenic view out the window. The last time she had been here, carcasses had been piled and burned as if they were meaningless shards of wood. Savage Oppress had left his bloody trail, and at her inability to stop him, her grandmother, who she never knew personally, paid the price for it.
She picked at her bionic fingers. Rex noticed her fidgeting, and without having to ask, he knew precisely what was going on in that mind of hers. Since it was just the two of them in the cockpit, he reached over and intertwined their fingers, his other hand remaining on the steering handle. "It won't be like that this time." he assured, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand.
"And if it is?"
"Then, I... don't know." he admitted.
"I don't know either."
The shuttle touched down on the wooden platform of a bustling town built at the edge of a swamp. The architecture of the town encompassing them struck a balance between tradition and innovation. Huts and teepees, of Sorgonian indigenous designs, rose gracefully from the ground, their exteriors upgraded with smooth panels and solar collectors. Civilians of all variety sat grinding wheat outside of their homes, and washing used clothes in pales with soap and water.
Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys, mixing with the crisp scent of brackish water and damp wood. The colors of the town were earthy and muted: soft greys, creamy vanillas, and the occasional streak of ochre or faded green.
Dakota stepped off the shuttle first, her boots meeting the wooden platform with a firm, measured step. Her sharp eyes immediately began cataloging the sights—the movement of traders carrying bundles of dried krill, the rhythmic clanging of tools as artisans worked, and the way the Sorgonian people greeted one another with a warmth that felt almost foreign to her. Many of them turned to look at the newcomers, their expressions curious but kind.
For a moment, Dakota found herself taken aback. She hadn't expected to see so much of herself reflected in the faces of the people here. Their angular cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and rich brown skin mirrored her own features in subtle ways.
Even the children running between huts bore the same long-limbed grace. Yet she didn't feel entirely at home. She never did. The Mandalorian in her—a presence shaped by a culture of discipline and endurance—seemed to clash with the grounded, communal energy of Sorgan. It was an odd experience, one she wasn't sure she was prepared to make.
"General," Rex called from behind, his boots echoing against the platform. She turned slightly, catching his nod as he scanned the town with practiced efficiency. Caleb followed close by, his hair ruffled with sleep, and his curious gaze darting from the people to the architecture, taking it all in with the wide-eyed wonder of someone who hadn't yet seen the galaxy's full scope.
Padmé stepped beside Dakota, her diplomatic grace effortlessly commanding the attention of those nearby. The attendants working the dock offered a bow, their cultural robes and garments swaying at their hips.
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Afterglow II | The Clone Wars
Fanfictionbook 2 although the Clone War is drawing to a close, there is still a war within the Jedi of many secrets. The Order has shaped her ethics, but that which is forbidden is her inner compass. She is a warrior, a sister, a friend, a lover. Ultimately...
