Storm's Touch

Chessboard

Your stomach churned, swirled with the stars outside the window as the ship cruised through hyperspace.

It was now apparent how you were going to be used on this galactic chessboard. A simple bishop piece, at first glance given much freedom, can cross the entire board if it so wished. But upon closer inspection, she is confined to the few spaces designated for her by the king.

Snoke currently held control of the board. That was no secret, but if he could hold that power was still to be seen.

There has been a time you had wished for his right-hand knight to turn. Come back to the light. Gather the shattered pieces of worlds and pawns scattered across the galaxy. That hope was gone now, a childish prayer, another casualty in this war.

Just as another pawn had been sacrificed.

Your stomach lurched, emptying what little it held in the refresher. You couldn't remember the last full meal you'd eaten. Only a few bits here and there. Putting on a show for those watching, and everyone was watching.

When you closed your eyes, the dead's stared back at you.

Bith.

An outer rim territory filled with scientists and engineers.

You'd been taken down to the planet's surface. Met with its leader, made a show for the Order. Pleading with your eyes for the Bith to pledge allegiance.

Join the Order and be safe.

You sobbed into your hands, falling to the cold floor, nightgown pooling around you.

The calmness in the General's voice as he gave the call for execution turned your stomach again.

Their screams echoed in your ears as you boarded and nearly ran to your rooms where you changed out of the elaborate gown. You'd carelessly thrown it on the ground quickly covering yourself in the long black nightgown.

And there you lay. On the floor in the refresher. Watching the droids attend to the mess of clothing and leaving a stim or two for nausea. An empty and useless gesture.