Brenya rolled onto her back, panting. She blinked up at the ceiling of the corridor like it was some kind of miracle. Out. Cramped, bruised, filthy—but out. She let out a soft, wheezy laugh. "
Well den," she muttered, "
that was very much not the fun tunnel ride."
She pulled herself to her feet, knees cracking in protest, and looked toward the rows of rounded pod doors. Taryn and Sera were already talking tactics. Both ideas made sense, but only one felt right.
"
Yousa got it," Brenya said, nodding toward
Sera.
"I prefer da ship, too. Clones’ll be lookin’ to chase quick—if we’sa stay behind, hide a bit, maybe sneak off quiet-quiet… we’sa got better odds. Hyperdrive’sa better than hopin’ a pod lands us somewhere without more blaster boys."
At
Voss’s question, Brenya glanced down at the mechanical arm, and her face softened with guilt — not sorrow, just honest
weight. "
Yeah… issa droid arm," she said quietly. "
Industrial type. Cargo lifter, I think. Was what I could grab when we’sa runnin’. No clinics, no time. Yousa bleedin’ out and I’sa just—" She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "
Just needed to stop the leakin’. We fix it proper, later. Me hope."
Last edited May 27, 2025 1:08 am
