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overcaffeinated-creative · 6 years

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Which Way Am I Running?

Summary: Being assigned an undercover mission in Sundari triggers flashback nightmares for Solus. Trapped between a past in the Great Clan Wars and an uncertain future leaves her doubt filled and shaken before she ships out.

Characters: Solus Vetra, Ursa Wren in flashback

Rating: T

Warnings: Clear signs of an ongoing panic attack, clear presentation of mental trauma sustained from surviving a paramilitary raid, descriptions of said raid and general angst.

Notes: This is part of my worldbuilding attempts for the political climate of Mandalore, both past and present. Solus has a low opinion of Satine Kryze that shows in spades.

“Run!” Ursa hissed through the speaker of her helmet. Armored hands pushed her deeper into the current base. “Run!”

Death white hands clung to the refresher sink with the strength of durasteel. Her entire body trembled in aftershocks of the nightmare. Head hanging low, Solus focused on the tears splattering on the porcelain. Harsh, panting breaths echoed around the small space. Part of her wanted to reach up to dry her eyes. That part lost. One simple move would send her tumbling to the floor on collapsing legs. To stay standing meant everything had to stay locked in place.

Blaster fire echoed behind as Ursa shoved her into the most solid inner suite. After the door slammed shut the older warrior destroyed the control panel. Even masked and back turned to her, Solus knew something was wrong. The funny feeling her ba’buir called the Force screamed. Lights, ones she knew the names of, kept blinking out of existence. It even told her that Ursa was scared too. But, it had to be wrong. Ursa Wren was fearless.

Part of Solus thought she had escaped the nightmares this time around. It had been months since she had returned from Mandalore. Her mind had accepted the state of her home sector without question. Just as it took the confirmation of Death Watch and their false Manda’lor in stride. Even the good-as-confirmed deaths of her ba’buire stirred no strong emotion. It was something she had accepted years ago. All of the True Mandalorians died but Jango Fett during the Great Clan Wars Now, a single mission assignment turned it all of that progress upside down.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked with tears filling her eyes. The once distant high-pitched whine of the invaders’ rifles moved closer. “Ursa, what’s wrong?”

More tears fell as she fought to breath. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream for the second time in another drawn out fight-or-flight response. Every sensation in her body was thrown into relief. The way her heart tried to pound free of her ribs. Her lungs stung with each attempt to properly inhale. Against nature she had even begun to sweat. Little icy beads that raced from her hairline, down her sensitive neck, before being adsorbed by tunic or hair. Her knees ached at being locked up while her muscles groaned from staying pulled taunt. And the Force...the Force tried to drown it all out as she was acutely aware of everyone and no one. Just a steadfast bad feeling about the future.

“Kryze sent assassins.” Ursa’s gauntlets shook while she lined the door with explosives. “They’ve jammed our comms and brought disruptor rifles.” Swallowing thickly she almost whispered, “I can’t stop them by myself. This is really it.”

Master Kit was half way across the Galaxy on a campaign. Otherwise, he would be standing beside her in the moment. His tall, warm presence would fill the space to help her find control. He was a good Master, better than she deserved, who always came when she needed him. However, those were what-ifs and past actions. In the current moment she was entirely alone her traitorous body. Everything tried to shake apart with no way to call for comfort she needed.

“I can help?” Solus wanted to believe that she could. Ba’buir said she truly gifted with the Force. The kind of gifted even Jetii would would call impressive. But, no one had taught her how to fight or even use it at all. Everything came to her mind without her really trying. Maybe she could try again for something to stop this. “I can help.”

Using the pain as a focal point the young woman fought to control herself. Her lungs ached from hyper-oxygenation or was it oxygen deprivation? Regardless it needed fixed. Breathing in through her nose for ten seconds, hold for three, exhale through pursed lips for five, and count. Then it would be repeated until she was calm, or something that could pass for calm. It was a trick Jazari had taught her. Everything was a fraction easier to do knowing it was how Jazari would handle it.

“No!” Ursa ordered while scooping her up into her arms. They went deeper into the rooms to hide. Solus was forced into a corner with Ursa kneeling before her. With her beskar’gam and drawn knife she made a better shield. Solus was a warrior too but her clothes only had beskar plated inserts. Ba’buir said full armor would come later. They would forge it together.

Solus wished Pre Vizsla had been the nightmare trigger. By all rights, he should have been. Vizsla was bigger and stronger than her with far more experience. He was the Manda’lor of Death Watch, the people who slaughtered Jaster Mereel and the True Mandalorians with pride. Yet, in the end she was faster and far more cunning with an unshakable will. He became nothing but another facet of an ongoing war. Vizsla was almost someone she could beat if given the time and mind set. The real problem was no so simple.

When the door war breached things became fuzzy in her mind. People screamed from Ursa’s blast before more rushed in to clear the rooms. Quickly they were located with those rifles shoved into their faces. Solus knew she had started crying again. The invaders called them failures and cowards. Taunted them for hiding. One made a move to kill them before the leader said no. Duke Kryze wanted their deaths to happen a certain way and certainly not disintegrated. Slugthrowers were to be used for them. The execution of Krownest legacies would be a statement. Unlike the mighty Kryze, they were going to die outside, on their knees, and treasonous blood running into their precious snow. They were forced to their feet, weapons take, and then marched toward their deaths.

When her breathing was firmly under control again allowing her to move toward the next task: freeing the sink. Each joint in her fingers throbbed from tension. It took individual orders to will the appendage to rise up. Absentmindedly, Solus wondered if this was the time she finally left indentations. Shamefully, she thought having to hold herself upright was becoming common place. Not including her notoriously strong grip. Several times Mav had joked, Force User or not, she had the strength to hold back Death itself. Back then Solus had laughed at the thought. Now, she could only pray to be so strong.

On the way out Solus held Ursa’s hand. All around them lay partial bodies and dust that used to be bodies. Almost everyone is dead; Vetra, Wren, or ally. It stabbed at her heart. The Force let her feel Ursa’s ache and the invaders confused feelings at their jobs. But, Ursa’s heartache was caused by more than their peoples deaths. There is failure and sadness mixed up in it. She promised to hold down the base and failed miserably. Her buir trusted her. There was even some acceptance of her incoming death. They will die as examples to their people. It makes her squeeze Ursa’s hand tighter and silently promise to help them.

These particular nightmares had started two days ago with vengeance. Senator Amidala returned from Sundari with grave news prompting the Republic to act. Herself, and fellow Padawan Ahsoka Tano, were being sent undercover within the city to locate the problem. Bitterly, she wondered how they could call anything they did there undercover work. Everyone in, what the Duchess called Mandalore, looked exactly the same now; fair, human, and blonde. A Togruta and a half-Sephi would stand out on first or second glance. It was disgusting. Before they had only looked sort of the same in beskar’gam.

With each step forward, Solus focused harder on the feeling to protect Ursa. When she used the Force before it was because she wanted it to happen. Everything in that moment had pointed toward “Do”. Now, she wanted those men with their blasters to leave them alone. Sinking into the feeling she tried to shove everything outward as hard as she could. Her vision went dark at the edges, white noise roared in her ears, and everything exploded.

Solus pulled her sweat damp tunic off then paused hand halfway to the faucet. In the very moment, she struggled to recognize herself. Dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes were common. Everyone sported the same eyes since the start of the Clone Wars. But, her eyes looked off. Something not entirely fear or unease dimmed them. Any business with Kryze felt off in a frustratingly unreadable way. Maybe it was frustration? She knew she lacked the passion for it to be true hate. There was was anger but Solus knew her own anger. It ran cold and gleamed.

Blinking herself awake much later she lazily looked at their surrounds before settling down. It was what served as the medbay on one of their smaller transport ship. They were even seated on the gurney..at least, Ursa was seated with her back to the wall. Solus was curled up mostly in her lap and being held in a death grip to her armored chest with both arms. To the right, she could make out Ursa’s familiar black and gold helmet rest next to her. Upward was a different story. Tears were dried on the Wren’s cheeks while her eyes still were red and raw. Wiggling around she felt the blaster laying to their left.

A realization slammed into Solus with such intensity she gasp. “Kryze is her father,” she murmured while staring into her mirror double’s wide, trouble eyes. “She’s just as short-sighted and extremist in her executions of goals. Hell, there were probably actual executions on her rise to power. No wonder she unnerves me.” Laughter bubbled up from her chest edged with a fevered mania. “And here I am heading in to solve her problems as an agent of the Jedi Order because she’s faltering to the Republic’s offers.”

“You okay, Ursa?”

For several minutes Solus stood quiet. Her chest hurt. “Maybe I should just join Death Watch.” She saw Wren colors and sigils among the warriors on Concordia. Ursa bowed to Vizsla and she never made any decision lightly. If she gave there was a reason. “Stars know, I’m already too lost for Manda to find.”

“Just thinking about our future, ad’ika. Times are changing.”

“But, I can’t. I called myself the Chieftain of Clan Vetra. I can’t risk any honor I have left.”

#caff the writer #caff wrote fanfics #cw: panic attack #cw: anxiety #solus vetra #c: more than you bargained for #Mama Bear

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