Rain’s P.O.V.
“Don’t leave me!”
Rain could see a dark-haired figure standing before her, its back facing her. It seemed hazy, their surroundings even moreso. The dark fog appeared to writhe around them. When Rain tried to move, her feet stuck fast. She threw out her hand, reaching, reaching.
“You promised,” she heard herself say, though she never felt her lips move, “You promised never to leave me. Please. Don’t go.”
But the figure never looked back, and the fog swallowed her.
Rain’s eyes snapped open, staring up at her ceiling as the sweat ran down her face.
Stupid dreams, she thought, sitting up and wiping her sleeve across her forehead.
She threw the thin blankets off, getting up and slipping into her clothes. She didn’t have to worry about waking Mira since they had stopped sharing sleeping quarters years ago. Rain sometimes missed the company but only on very rare occasions.
She wandered out into the main room of the ship, her ship, her pride and joy. Yes, it was a little crowded, but just having the honor of a ship to call her own had been more than enough reason for her to love it when she first laid eyes on it.
She passed through the airlock on her way to the cockpit, finding Grievous standing there in his usual statuesque posture.
“General,” she greeted.
A quick glance out the viewport revealed their rocky surroundings. It was an uninhabited planet in the Outer Rim that they had been using as a safe haven for years.
“Rain.”
Grievous spoke clearly, without a trace of his former ailment. Some time after the Clone Wars, Mira had begun working tirelessly to cure the General’s cough. The effort had been successful, but that hadn’t been the only thing they had remedied.
Rain recalled Yoda’s words.
“Not wholly his, his mind is.”
As shocking as it had been to realize, he had been right. The sisters had discovered unusual alterations in Grievous’ brain, causing his rage receptors to be enhanced. Upon informing Grievous of this, he had promptly flown into a temper, babbling about how he had warned Dooku not to tamper with his brain. He offered no explanation beyond this, and the issue was dealt with without further needed discussion.
“Someone has been very persistent in trying to contact you,” Grievous said.
“Oh? Who is it?”
“I did not presume to use your personal communicator.”
“Oh.”
Rain crossed the room, opening the compartment under the control board where she kept her communicator.
I should start keeping it in my own quarters again, she thought.
The only reason she had stopped was because Mira had caught her staying up all hours of the night for non-emergency transmissions.
“What if there IS an emergency, and you can’t function for so little sleep?” Mira had pestered her.
So Rain had promised to start utilizing the night hours for their proper purpose again.
But if this is who I think it is, he’s going to be ticked at me for taking so long to answer.
Rain turned back to ask the General for some privacy, but he had already left. She activated the communicator, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw the familiar face of her Twi'lek friend.
“Phoebe.”
“I take it you were busy?” She didn’t sound angry at all, only nervous.
“What’s wrong?”
Phoebe inhaled deeply.
“I ran into some rather...unexpected company.”
Rain’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”
“You remember that Cerean and Theelin couple? The one we...well, you know.”
Rain’s eyes narrowed further, her eyes mere slits.
“What about them?”
“I met them today, on Coruscant.”
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Rain’s stomach twisted.
“But they live on some backwater—”
“I know. But apparently their dream has always been to live here. They know about me now, they know where I am.”
“Was…” Rain hesitated. “Was she with them?”
Phoebe sighed, “Of course, though the subject was not brought up.”
Rain drew a shuddering breath, “How did she look?”
“Very well, but…” Phoebe’s words died away.
“What?” Rain pressed, dreading the answer.
“Rain, she’s a mute.”
The shock of Phoebe’s words sunk in, triggering a wave of guilt. Rain’s memories pulled her back to that night, the night she had lost her temper.
Is it my fault? Did I do it?
Phoebe seemed to read her mind.
“I’m sure it’s not your fault.”
Oh, Phoebe. You’re too good to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted.
“It’s not the end of the world,” Rain said, brushing off the uncomfortable topic, “Just try to maintain your distance.”
“I know what to do, Rain. I just wanted you to know. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Phoebe’s golden eyes held hers, “You know.”
Rain smiled gently, “You have nothing to apologize for.”
The Twi'lek sighed.
“I’ll keep you informed.”
“Thank you.”
The transmission ended.
Mira’s P.O.V.
Mira pulled at the airy material of her sleeveless, white outfit, glancing about for signs of life in the early morning.
Maybe Rain’s still in bed, she thought, but knowing Rain, it was unlikely.
Grievous, on the other hand, being mostly mechanical, had no need of sleep. She found him in the airlock, which was closed, indicating that Rain was indeed awake and wishing not to be disturbed.
As per usual.
Mira sighed, folding her arms across her chest.
“Mira,” Grievous rasped, “I trust you slept well.”
Mira smiled, “Always.”
Admittedly, the General’s presence had been very hard for her to become accustomed to at the beginning, much to Rain’s chagrin, but Grievous had proved himself time and time again, earning him Mira’s trust and friendship.
Mira ran a hand through her short hair. She had cut it that way after getting sick of being mistaken for Rain, and to her surprise she had found that she liked the style. She had kept it short ever since.
Mira shifted impatiently, her thoughts fixed on the transmission she had received yesterday. After all that time she had spent worrying about how the rebels were getting on, she had finally had word from them. The only problem was that Rain and Grievous were as yet unaware of this. Mira had been trying to find the right words to present the news. Of course, it wasn’t the General’s reaction she feared, it was Rain’s. Mira realized now that having waited would only make the situation worse. The urgency to deliver her message was weighing more and more heavily on her with each passing second.
Then the door to the cockpit opened, and Rain strode out, clutching her communicator in her hand. She paused at the sight of her fellow elite standing at the door. Her gaze barely lingered on Grievous before fixing on Mira. Then she swept past them, Mira quickly falling in behind her.
“Rain, I need to talk to you.”
Rain stopped in her tracks, turning back.
“What is it?”
Mira hesitated, feeling put on the spot.
“Well, we received a transmission yesterday.”
“And why am I only just hearing of this now?”
“Well…” Mira swallowed hard. “It was from the rebels.”
Rain’s eyes closed, her thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of her nose in an agitated manner.
“I didn’t say anything about it then,” she said, “But I will now. For years there have only been four individuals who know how to contact this ship. Four.” She counted it out on her fingers. “No more, no less. Then you decided to add about a hundred more to that list. Do you realize how much of a liability that is?”
“Yes,” Mira conceded, “But—”
“But nothing,” Rain said, turning and stepping through the door to the main room, “I’m not interested in hearing your excuses, Mira. Nothing can justify endangering this crew.”
“I know, but—”
“Mira, I said—”
“They need our help!” Mira blurted.
Rain paused at the door to her sleeping quarters, facing her sister.
“And what did you tell them we would do?”
“I told them we would help.”
Rain sighed wearily, “Mira, I’m tired of having to keep your promises.”
“Rain, I...I think it’d be a good idea if, you know, we tried to make friends with them.”
“You saw how they received us.”
“You weren’t helping!”
“They’re amateurs.”
“Rain!”
“What?” Rain hissed.
Mira took a calming breath.
“We’re all rebels. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Rain answered sharply, “As I said, they’re amateurs. We would be stretching ourselves thin trying to help them when we can achieve so much more on our own. That’s what we trained for. It’s why we’re called elite. The Empire fears us, but the rebels? They’re mere insects for the Empire to step on.”
“That’s not true,” Mira argued, “They’ve had victories too.”
“Not as many as their failures. It’s not safe for us to associate with them. Our number one priority—”
“Is to protect ourselves,” Mira finished, “I know.”
“Then act like it.”
Rain flung open the door to her quarters, signalling the end of the discussion. Mira lapsed into a defeated silence.
It doesn’t make a difference what I say. She still hates the Jedi, and everyone associated with them.
Suddenly, Grievous spoke.
“These rebels may have some potential, Rain,” he said, summoning her attention, “And there is only so much one can achieve with a company of three. Perhaps a temporary union would be to our benefit.”
There was a long silence. Rain glanced from Grievous to Mira, then sighed.
“There are times when I feel I’m talking to the walls,” she muttered, “What exactly did these rebels need our assistance for?”