Mira’s P.O.V.

“We could’ve beaten them,” Ahsoka said, her voice low and angry.

“I don’t know,” Ezra, who was seated on the floor of the adjacent cell, said uncertainly, “You’re probably the strongest out of the four of us, Ahsoka, and that Inquisitor…well—”

“I was simply caught off guard,” Ahsoka insisted quickly.

Mira, standing in the cell furthest from Ahsoka’s, glared across at her.

“You would’ve been caught off your guard regardless,” she pointed out, “A leader needs to decide what is best for the whole group, not just her ego.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms, leveling a cool gaze at Mira.

“I’m guessing you didn’t learn that from your sister.”

“Enough,” Kanan snapped, “I’ve had enough of this constant arguing! We’re all in a bad situation, okay? Ahsoka, I appreciate your determination to keep us out of Imperial hands, but pushing an offensive was completely reckless!” Ahsoka’s eyes burned with indignation, but Kanan had already turned his back to her. “Mira,” he said, “I appreciate you making our safety a priority, but picking fights isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Ezra laughed suddenly, prompting all eyes to turn to him.

“Sorry,” he said, addressing Kanan, “You just sound a lot like Hera right now.”

Kanan sighed, running a weary hand over his face. Mira almost mimicked the action.

“You’re right,” she admitted, “All that matters is we’re alive and unhurt.”

“And imprisoned,” Ahsoka added bitingly.

“And I doubt Kallus’ll be here to bail us out this time,” Ezra said.

“We had a better chance of fighting our way out on Myrkr,” Ahsoka persisted, “Now we have no options.”

And what were our options on Myrkr?! Mira wanted to snap, but she resisted the urge. I promised myself I wouldn’t try to dictate anyone’s choices, she thought, But it’s a whole other story when their choices endanger lives!

A sound caught her ear, the sound of a door sliding open, followed by footsteps advancing toward them. The prisoners watched, silently awaiting their visitor. They all immediately recognized the Inquisitor, Ezra scrambling to his feet upon seeing her. Kanan moved back, closer to his padawan, while Ahsoka moved forward, her body language radiating aggression.

“What do you want, Inquisitor?” she hissed.

“Nothing from you,” the Inquisitor replied. She stepped forward, triggering Mira’s cell to open. “Follow me,” she instructed.

Mira hesitated a moment, then obeyed.

“Mira!” Ezra called, alarm evident in his face.

“I’ll be all right, Ezra,” Mira assured him, forcing a smile.

Then she was ushered out of view and off the cell block, leaving her companions behind.

For several minutes, she and the Jedi-hunter walked in silence, the only sound being that of their own boots or those of the occasional patrol resounding off the polished floors. Finally, Mira spoke.

“What’s your name?”

“Twelfth Sister.”

“No, I mean your real name.”

More silence.

Then the answer, “Soleil.”

“I’m Mira.”

“Your name does not concern me, rebel.”

Mira paused, wondering if it was worth it to continue.

Swallowing her doubts, she plunged ahead, “Soleil, how did you become an Inquisitor?”

“I was never part of the Jedi, if that’s what you believe.”

“You weren’t?”

“I was born beyond their reach, and glad of it, given what I’ve seen of Jedi.”

Mira stifled the urge to argue, asking instead, “What have you seen of Jedi?”

“Arrogance, selfishness, cowardice…”

Her words trailed off into quietude. Mira wondered how or if she could respond.

“You,” Soleil said suddenly, casting a glance over her shoulder, causing Mira to note that same curious light in her eyes that she’d witnessed earlier, “You asked me what I wanted.” Her inquisitive luster abruptly vanished and she faced forward once more, adding brusquely, “No doubt in an attempt to distract me from any further intention I had of harming your friend.”

“She’s not my friend, unfortunately. But my duty as a Jedi calls for me to protect anyone in need.”

“Anyone?” Soleil queried, her dark eyes capturing Mira’s once more.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Mira’s consciousness silently echoed the question.

The role of protector didn’t come naturally to me, did it? No…Rain was the born protector. As children, we passed from family to family, seldom staying in one place for more than a few weeks. And during that constant upheaval, Rain always encouraged me to make myself as scarce as possible so she would be the one left to take the brunt of things…the brunt of the yelling, of the rough handling, of—well, who knows what else?

The memories of those times were distant and faded.

How well does Rain remember them, I wonder? While I drifted into the background, how was she affected?

When the Jedi had come, Mira had followed the same pattern of trying to slip out of focus, until she learned she didn’t have to, that she didn’t need to use Rain as a shield anymore; she could finally thrive. Or so she thought until she started falling behind in training. While the other younglings in her group were mastering their defensive capabilities against combat remotes, she was struggling to feel the force at all. Her fellow trainees all seemed able to communicate with it in just a few tries, letting it guide their movements and enhance their senses. But she somehow couldn’t find it in herself to block a handful of stinging shots from those damn remotes. So Rain would step in and help her. The Jedi Masters frowned at that, taking her aside and gently telling her off. Then she’d return to the training circle only to do it again. Finally, Rain was moved to a separate group. It was due to that intervention that Mira was able to take the first steps toward independence, even though it would be many years before she genuinely felt comfortable with the extent of her abilities and learned to stop comparing herself to her older sister. But despite her insecurities and her growing independence, Mira had always known Rain would have her back. When she was stranded on Quell or kidnapped by slavers, Rain was hot on her heels, ready to defy every order to see Mira through whatever mishap that befell her.

She was my anchor. I was always happy being in the background. I never had to make any hard decisions because she was always there to bail me out, even when it landed her in hot water. I wanted to have her back too, but I just didn’t come through for her as much as she did for me. I always had her support, but…who supported her?

An old fear arose from Mira’s past: the idea that she had inadvertently been holding Rain back. Perhaps she had been, but just not in the way she had thought at the time.

Rain made the decision to go with the Jedi, and I followed. I thrived among them, and she didn’t.

Perhaps the simple truth was that the Jedi just weren’t what Rain had needed.

So what did her sister need?

“Mira?”

Mira was surprised to hear her name from the Inquisitor’s mouth. It took a second to shake off her astonishment—and her musings.

“Yes,” she answered, “Though that’s not the only reason I asked what you wanted.”

“And the other reason?”

Soleil’s pace slowed minutely as she waited for Mira’s response.

“I genuinely wanted to know.”

Soleil stopped, turning to face her captive fully.

“Why would you, a Jedi, care for what an Inquisitor might want?”

“A friend of mine told me not so long ago that everyone deserves to be understood. I’m not sure if I entirely agree with her, but I’m trying to be understanding nonetheless.”

Soleil narrowed her eyes suspiciously but said nothing, simply standing aside so as to reveal a closed door behind her.

“Go in,” she said, “He’s waiting.”

“He?” Mira echoed in confusion as she stepped forward.

“Oh, and—” Soleil cut herself off, seemingly second-guessing whatever it was she was going to say. Then she finished with, “Brace yourself.”

Mira stepped through the door, puzzling over the strange warning.

The room she entered was large yet strangely empty aside from a table, two chairs, a man, and a creature attached to some strange tubular object. Mira recognized the man quickly enough since she’d seen him watching her as she’d been marched to the cells with the others. Judging by his uniform, he was an admiral or some other high-ranking officer, though his species was beyond Mira’s wildest guess. He had light blue skin like a Pantoran’s but his eyes were a lustrous red.

“Please, sit,” the man said, indicating the chair opposite him.

Mira approached, freezing suddenly as a horrifying sensation enveloped her. She instinctively wound her arms around herself, her body tensing as a distinct feeling of emptiness pressed in on her.

It was as though she had just entered a space devoid of life, and all that was left was cold and nothingness.

The force…I can’t feel it!

Her eyes widened in terror, but the man seated across from her was quick to identify her ailment.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed,” he said, “What you are currently experiencing is nothing more than a natural phenomenon. My little friend here—” He gestured to the lizard-like animal just behind him. “—is simply suppressing your force powers temporarily. But please.” He waved a hand at the empty chair once more, repeating his instructions with a tad more emphasis. “Sit.”

Mira forced her paralyzed body to move, each step slow and agonizing. After what seemed a lifetime, she reached her seat, sinking her trembling body into it.

“It seems fortune has smiled on me as of late,” the man said, his voice sounding strange and distant as he spoke.

Mira couldn’t bother to meet his eyes. Instead, she stared fixedly at the table’s gray surface, its drab color seeming to swallow her.

“Not long ago, I had a chance encounter which led me to the discovery of these fascinating creatures,” the Imperial officer pressed on, “And then, just when I was expecting a cloaked rebel ship to pay Myrkr a visit, one does exactly that. Admittedly, you were not the rebels I was expecting, but it seems you have provided me with something invaluable: leverage. You are, after all, so strikingly similar to your sister in appearance that I imagine it’d be impossible to overlook your obvious relation.”

Mira dug her nails into her arms, looking up for the first time. Her captor leaned forward, interlacing his fingers.

“So you’re the one your sister was missing. How intriguing to discover you with another rebel cell. Doubtless, your sister disapproved of the transfer? She seems to think quite highly of her meager organization. And she seemed highly…unbalanced. I believe she even sought to replace you.”

Mira eyes grew impossibly wider, her horror unable to be contained.

“But where are my manners?” Thrawn said with unsettling amiability, leaning back in his chair, “You may call me Thrawn. And your name, I believe, is Mira?”

“Yes, i-it is...”

“I hope you’ll forgive my discourteous behavior. I took the liberty of revisiting some accounts from the Clone Wars, and they fortunately provided me with your name,” Thrawn explained before promptly discarding the subject. “Mira. I want to thank you, truly, for supplying me with this momentous opportunity.” He stood, activating a communicator on his wrist. “You may bring her out,” he instructed, and shortly after Soleil arrived, entering the lifeless bubble so as to retrieve the rebel prisoner.

She had to help Mira out of her seat as Mira’s legs had turned to putty, forcing Soleil to half-walk, half-drag her captive toward the exit. As they left the strange lizard-like creature’s effects behind, Mira felt her strength and wits return. She pulled away from Soleil, turning back toward Thrawn.

“That’s it?” she demanded.

“For now,” came the response.

Soleil took hold of Mira once more, urging her forward.

“Once you’ve returned Miss Callyn to her cell, send me the one called Ahsoka Tano.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral,” Soleil answered.