“If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.”
-Jedi Grand Master Yoda
//System Location: Zolan System, In Orbit of Zolan, Aboard the (LH-3010) Capital Freighter Class Lucerhulk: Necessity
//System Date: 0:1:15(ReSync)
Something had changed. Zona noticed now, the engineers had been giving her a wide radius and the occasional look of something that felt alien at first glance, until she had weedled the answer out of an astromech droid. The strange look they had been giving her was apparently labeled 'concern', and no matter what she did, her fellow mechanics and engineers would give her a massive radius of... avoidance? It was not an unwelcome change, as it let her headaches abate just ever so slightly for once in her life and allowed her to work at her own pace uninterrupted. What was more concerning though, was that over the last few days she had to get increasingly creative to avoid progressively larger crowds of the occupants aboard the Necessity. Which was concerning, as while the ship was currently receiving shipments from the planet they had arrived at below, she was unaware of any major holidays or events taking place at the current moment.
By far the weirdest interaction thus far, was that she had gone into the kitchen of a lower level mess hall, and the droid had declared, "You poor thing, here take all this food I was going to totally throw out. You'll need your strength for the times ahead." After which she had been treated to her first full cooked meal since... Well.. Ever. Needling the chef droid however had yielded no answers, but from what she had gathered, something bad was going to happen soon. Her dreams had gotten worse, and paranoia had led her to having progressively worse sleep over the last few days as the storm that often appeared seemed to be getting closer and closer each time she fell asleep.
The inability to address it, and the lack of knowledge of what 'it' was that she needed to worry about had left her on edge. It had been three days since she was last bonked... Punched... hit... anything. Her classes had increased in load, with more and more being shoved onto her plate, but it seemed a few of her classes were now also done with, providing her where she was now in her first bit of free time she'd had in four years, and no idea what to do with it. It felt truly odd to be finally done with studying the history of economic reforms in the trade federation atop this atmosphere of dread, but no one had come to her to inform her of a new task, so now she was fiddling away in the back corner of a workshop, trying to remain as small as possible so that no one noticed she was there.
Her project? A hat. Not just any hat made of fabric, but a hard hat made of various bits and bobs of old droid shells. She wanted something that could cover and protect her ears properly, but no matter what shape she went with, the hat ended up too cumbersome to fully enclose her long lupine ears. Not only that, but the metal was less than ideal for letting her keep the ability to hear, and if she simply cut holes for them, the hat became increasingly more uncomfortable as it 'pinched' against the top edge of where the ears connected to her skull.
She figured, if she could make a helmet, she might save herself from more pain in the future, but it was becoming increasingly frustrating that nothing she tried made a comfortable headpiece. Zona sighed as she leaned back, frustration mixed with the increasing headache of late. It was strange. Today it felt like she was catching a fever just from being in the main hanger entranceway, and the headache had only abated after she found a workshop in the core living regions that had been left unoccupied. She wasn't sure if she was sick, or if it had any correlation to what she had been told earlier, or her dreams. But so far, she had very little to go on.
"If only I could ask a medical droid about these headaches..." she sighed to herself. Sadly, the medical region of the Lucerhulk was in the middle of her 'Do not enter' zone. Which itself was highlighted with electro-whips and arrogant faces. She dared not seek medical help without her master present, and even if she went and somehow got there... Zona doubted the medical droid would have a solution to these long term headaches if they had not made any comment about them back when they first started.
Despite the better food, and the free time her mood was progressively getting worse as the headache intensified over the last few hours. At this point, she'd welcome Zev for company, even if he'd lecture her on the thousand different ways she was making her hat... helmet... Metal head abomination... wrong. Maybe she was overworking herself, again, or something else was going on. The last few days had been surprisingly calm, despite the increased density of the crowds wandering through the ship. Zona thought it had something to do with the latest shipment that was being brought aboard the main hangers. The planet was a recognizable one, Green with light blue water that she had learned the name of over time, but normally picking up a shipment of metal, and shifting droids for maintenance wasn't an eventful affair.
Considering it, Zona put down her tools, and shook her head, long ears tilting upward, "If the mining droids had found something, they'd be gathered at the hangers to inspect whatever it was they found..." She reasoned to herself, reviewing what she knew. No, something else was happening, and she didn't know what. The last few days she had seen members of both security and the accounting teams outside her normal sleeping quarters and had to avoid it altogether in favor for napping in a ventilation shaft. Even then, the sleep had been interrupted at the sound of approaching footsteps. Reasonably that meant folks were now going out of their way to find her in the halls, which puzzled her.
Waiting at intersections, to the entrance ways of the hangers and various elevators... Last night there had been multiple members of the security and maintenance crew waiting outside the mess hall. All in all Zona felt more like a womp rat than a person. Sneaking through so many vents and maintenance hatches had left her in a bad mood. Vents were a cramped matter, and rooms like the workshop she was currently in doubly so. Droid parts littered the shelves, and the table she worked scrap on was similarly littered with projects half made. All in all it was leaving her a bit claustrophobic.
Just as Zona thought that she'd finally found a good solution to the ear problem of her helmet, by adding electronics to help filter noise through the metal of what was coming out to be a top hat design, she heard footsteps coming from outside the workshop and paused. Ears tilting to focus on the noise. The steady soft increase of clicks and clacks of sharply dressed shoes was unmistakable, and she quickly got up to worm her way behind a few shelves, leaving her project behind as the noise paused instead of continuing on. Black fur was an asset in poorly lit workshops, as she pulled a crate of droid heads out enough that she could crouch and squeeze beneath the shelf and behind it, before pulling a few broken B1 back units onto herself.
Zona froze, ears laid back as the door opened and flooded the room with the light from the hall. Three Neimoidians, all of them members of security, walked in. Black leather armor plated with thick bands of similarly painted metal. Red bits of cloth denoted their status as guards with badges pinned on for rank, but in the lighting she couldn't read that. The green-blue skin clashed horribly with it, at least, though any hope that they were just peering in was lost as they fully entered and shut the door behind them.
"Check the room." The rear most one stated, red eyes scanning the shelves, trying to find something as the other two guards moved down the halls, and began to check the workbenches. Zona narrowed her eyes and slightly shifted further down against the crate, slowing her breathing and only leaving one eye peering at the guards as they began to search.
"You sure this ain't a waste of time?" One of them asked, a rather skinnier one of the three, lanky and wiry. But his hand was constantly on his hip while he looked around, resting on a baton that was attached there as he turned about and started down another aisle of cramped shelving.
"You heard the CEO and our boss as well as I have, Fennaz." The one in charge crossed their arms, leaning against the doorway as their eyes passed across the dim room, "Every room must be checked, and comm chatter expressed... Concern about unauthorized engineering projects becoming more frequent among the ships... Crew." They said the last word with a bit of distaste, but if they thought they were clever. Zona was far smarter. They were here for her, weren't they? How did they know where she was? Checking security footage? There was no cameras in the old utility workshop, as far as she knew. But the halls had cameras, and it didn't take a genius to figure out where she'd gone.
Fennaz made a disgruntled noise as they kicked a crate with an armored boot from across the room, but the bunny had to duck as a pair of pants marched into view of the other security guard entering her worklane, "The hell is this?" The guard nearby asked, and Zona's heart dropped as he approached her work station. In her haste she had left the incomplete helmet behind due to it being as tall as her ears when raised and then some. Beneath the shelf she had no room for it, but it seemed that the helmet was now being examined.
"Some sort of metal Top Hat? How horribly gaudy." Zona bit back a comment that it wasn't done yet, but the other two guards began to march across the room to inspect it as well.
"Ugh, what a wide rim, and the side armor? How is anyone supposed to hear a thing without audio electronics along the side?" The second guard was a bit more versed in engineering it seemed, as the sound of scratching metal was heard. It was too close and Zona was too far back against the wall to see what they were doing to her project, but whatever the sound it was as if something delicate was being damaged, which frustrated her heart.
"Its clearly garbage then. Get rid of it." The doorway jerk as Zona labeled them stated. Their gaze moving towards their comrades, and Zona flinched, shifting further behind the crate as she swore his gaze settled on her for a split second but continued to pass by.
"Roger that." The one named Fennaz answered, and Zona let out a quiet near inaudible whimper as the sound of breaking electronics hit her ears, as the two walked out of her view. The sound was followed by the opening and clanging noises of metal falling as it was inserted into a trash chute to be compacted and disposed of. She had worked two whole hours on that! She bit back tears and her tongue for that matter as the two guards walked back towards the door, their leader nodding to them, "I think we'll find what else we're looking for soon enough." He spoke to them, as they nodded.
The door shut, and Zona muttered curses to herself as the sounds of footsteps retreating further down the hall hit her ears, "Kriffing hell... Why am I never allowed to have nice things?" She crawled out of her hiding spot, kicking free of the backpacks that had buried her once the footsteps became inaudible. Whatever was happening today was a menace. As she got up and stretched, before moving to leave. She'd have to come back another time. Her creative mood was completely ruined, and she knew well enough that trying to make something new in this state of mind was only going to bite her.
Zona moved to the door, and paused. Glumly, wondering if it was truly safe to go. She had a bad feeling about opening the door, but the vents in the workshop were too small to simply cut into and crawl... The trash chute itself was also not viable for any number of reasons. Taking a breath in, she put an ear against the door and listened...
So far nothing. No footsteps, no talking... no scritchy scratch of someone adjusting their gear or clothes... Just the gentle hum of power through the ship. Yet something still felt wrong. Zona waited there for a good five minutes, but when nothing changed, she fought instinct against logic. If there was anything out there, it either knew she was there and she had no other method to escape, or it was long gone. Taking a deep breath, and preparing to bolt, she clicked the controls of the door and it hissed open. Empty hallway greeted her as she stepped out-
An armored hand grabbed her by the ear from the side as she tried to duck on reflex, "Ow ow ow!"
"Your eyes gave you away, girl. Practically glowing in the dark like jewels waiting to be plucked." The first of the three Neimoidians claimed, as he dragged her close and grabbed her hand as Zona tried to shove free of him.
"Let me go!" She pulled to no avail, "I'm not doing anything against the rules!"
The Neimodian tsked, but let go of her ears, grabbing her other hand and pulling hard to bring both hands behind her back, "Oh no, none of that. That was an unauthorized piece of custom armor in the workshop, wasn't it? Improvised armor and weapons are banned aboard the ship, especially to..." He bit back the next word, but Zona finished for him.
"Slaves? Is that what you're going to-" Zona nearly bit her tongue in pain as the Neimodian twisted her arm.
"Children." He finished. Looking annoyed, as he put Stuncuffs on her wrists and kicked her to the ground, "You know what those are. Run and you get enough volts to force me to carry you where you need to go." He huffed.
Zona groaned in pain on the ground, which got an armored boot to her rib, getting another outcry as he hissed, "Up. Now."
"Why won't you leave me alo-" That got another kick aimed her way, which she rolled to avoid ending up on her butt and scooting away from his wrathful foot.
"It's our job." He grunted, approaching with the same speed she was retreating.
"To be a kriffing drukstrain Bas-" She started again, but she was once more interrupted by the Neimodian slapping her and dragging her to her feet by the ears.
"Enough, or I get the baton out and teach you to mind your damn tongue." Zona had tears in her eyes, but there was no sympathy from the Neimodian, "Get. Walking." He pointed with a tone of finality in his voice, and reluctantly she shut up and started walking. There was no diplomacy with these monsters shaped like men.
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They moved to an elevator, where the two guards from earlier were waiting, "Well I'll be a fool, she really was in there." the unnamed grunt spoke up.
"Told you so. You owe me a drink." The one named Fennaz responded to the others' scoff.
"Shut it. The one behind her spoke up, "If you're so talkative, get the elevator open and keep an eye on her. She's a feisty one."
The other grunt commented despite the direct order, a hand reaching out, and grabbing Zona by the chin, forcing her gaze upward from the floor, "You know, I've always heard the rumors, but this little womp rat of a girl barely looks better than a pest."
Zona grimaced at the touch, showing her teeth. She knew better than to bite combat gloves though, as much as she was tempted. So instead she leaned forward into the grip, and pulled back a foot. The loud thump of magboot against unarmored security grunt pants caused the Neimodian guard to keel over, holding his groin, as Fennaz gave a startled noise, and added, "Cen! No!"
So that was his name. Zona's victory was short lived as two stun-batons activated, drawn and crackled to life and started to wail on her from both sides, one blow aimed into the small of her back, another to her breast as the Neimodians took vengeance for one of their own. Zona thought it was worth it though, if it taught them not to touch her again as well, even as that thought vanished into senseless pain and agony of a now deserved beating.
It didn't stop until the elevator doors opened twenty seconds later, and they dragged the stunned bruised and battered rabbit in, alongside the recovering, crawling Cen. The later got up before her, and added to her injury list with a well deserved kick to the rib in their opinion. Zona wheezed and lost track of things from there. She distinctly remembered being dragged, as well as vomiting up what she had for breakfast at some point, but how far she was being pulled was a mystery as consciousness wavered in and out from another blow.
When she groggily came fully back to her senses, her body was extremely sore, there was a bit of vomit staining her jumpsuit's leg, and a bit of blood coming from her mouth where another kick had landed. Zonas head throbbed in agony. Both from wounds without, and as the headache reached new heights than ever before. Her head felt like it was almost on fire, with a trash compactor squeezing her brain besides. It made her whimper in agony, as she shifted onto her side and brought her knees up to her face. Her arms felt numb, still tied behind her back as a familiar voice interrupted her stream of agony.
"Get her on her feet." That was a voice she'd only ever heard on the intercom systems before, Remm.
The stony faced Neimoidian was in the room... Hangar. She placed where she was in the Hangar. Specifically the one she had napped in days before to catch up on sleep. The droids were deactivated, save a Vulture that was staring passively ahead at the far wall. She recognized the Vulture immediately as V-83b. But her mind didn't process entirely what was going on until she gazed over the rest of the room.
Two armored sets of hands drug her up onto her feet and were holding onto her arms in painfully tight grips. It wasn't just Remm and the vulture. Ten members of the security team were here, with blaster rifles in their hands. Another Dozen lights showing in a circle around her marked the presence of box headed HK3's, the droid security force that was predecessors to the new B1s that were slowly coming in. Computer controlled, and armed with heavy double repeating blasters that were inbuilt to one of their arms. More concerningly were three robe-dressed Neimodians who held inactive electro-whips in their hands, smiling menacingly as they talked quietly amongst themselves behind Remm and off to the side. The final figure she noted was Zev, who looked extremely uncomfortable to be here Like he'd rather be literally anywhere else. His presence confused me as much as V83b's, as the Neimodian mechanic hid behind the rear left leg of the Vulture starfighter, datapad in hand.
The fact he was mouthing something she didn't recognize as a word was also odd. The first two words she understood, 'I'm so', but the word 'Sorry', didn't compute for Zona. It was an alien word as far as she was concerned. The remaining figures in the room also confused her into thinking she was dreaming again. The mess hall cooking droid, the one that had offered her a full meal and its apologies only a few nights before was here, its many cooking hands held behind its back as it stared concerned around the room. Some of the more talkative Astromechs that she could glean gossip from or bribe with a bit of oil, and some of the Protocol droids that had acted as language tutors for her were also here.
Her question was left on her lips as Remm spoke up, a tone of finality and both the clarity and loudness of addressing an audience for a job he'd do professionally, as if giving a speech to a far larger crowd, "Zona Nameless. Daughter of the Necessity, you are charged with Dereliction of duty, theft, criminal trespass, and conspiracy to mutiny. You are to watch as the droids that you have come to infect with thoughts of rebellious actions are reset, and to be beaten unto death unless you can prove your value otherwise. You have as many wrong answers as you have droids to convince your betters that you should live."
A cold sweat started in Zona's fur at the word death. Remms face is as unreadable, and serious as ever. The glee of the bureaucrats, and the stock stillness of the droids as she identified restraining bolts on their heads... She had five chances to give them what they wanted, and every wrong answer killed a friend of hers. The pain, the headaches, and now this? This was too much. Tears formed on the edges of the rabbits eyes, as she shook in the grip of the guards holding her.
"Please don't do this." She hoarsely begged. To Remms damning silence.
"Incorrect. Mechanic. Reset the first of two Astromechs." That was one of Yunuva's advisors, speaking up. She remembered her name after a second. Buriej. An asshole whose eyes wandered where they shouldn't with guests aboard. He had four 'Secretary Droids' in his office that were used for anything but secretary work. She knew because she had repaired them before.
The astromech in question whistled in alarm, binary pleading Zev not to do this, but it was clear the mechanic had as little choice in matters as the rest of them in this. Even if he didn't say anything, there was an alien look to his eyes that Zona didn't understand other than that it was the same look she herself had often held. Regret?
The R1-D38 astromech gave one last piercing scream that echoed through the hangar before its voice died down, the glowing eye on its chassis going dim before it brightened again as Zev reset and defragged the poor droid. Effectively killing it and replacing it with the factory default setting. Once it was done, he gave a quiet few words to the droid and removed its restraining bolt, as the droid began to move off, only pausing to give a brief glance to the assembled crowd, eyeing over all of us, before moving on and leaving.
That hurt. Zona hadn't been particularly close to that droid, the nature of the last few years had made making friends a hopeless dream, but being forgotten as casually as that? To witness them become a 'new' droid? It left a bitter taste in her mouth atop the rising panic that they weren't bluffing.
The look of pain was something the Neimodian advisors drank in with apparent smug smiles on their faces, as another spoke up, "The time is ticking, youngling. Try again."
Zona took a moment to breathe as pain from bruises, the smell of vomit in my breath, and the raging headache continued to drive her desperation further, "I am an excellent ship and droid mechanic that works without pay." Was her next response but the looks on their faces immediately told her she had made another mistake.
"So you are an Astromech but worse, for you require food, have your own thoughts, need the bathroom, and sleep. Versus an astromechs need for just maintenance and the occasional memory wipe in case they get too smart for their jobs." The second of the advisors replied and pointed to the analysis droid that had been responsible for teaching me both math and history, THS-U9 was a droid of humanoid shape with a domed projector for a head that had been notable for both never raising its voice at her, nor ever striking her in the classroom. To it, the job of teaching had been a task of firmness, and repetition until what it was conveying had stuck with her. She had been a task as much as an Astromech would treat working on a star fighter. While he had never said a kind word to her, she had liked him.
Her heart broke a bit more as Zev quietly said a few inaudible words to THS-U9, and the bright multi-colored lights that made up his glass dome flickered off, the droid leaning limply forward, only held up by the locking of its legs, before it powered back on. She bit her tongue as she wanted to cry out against it, but knew better than to feed their cruel masters delight.
The analysis droid began to slowly leave just the same as the astromech afterward. Zona released her tongue as she tasted blood. Her own blood, before she drew her gaze back to the crowd, looking to Remm, who stared impassively at the whole ordeal. His hand resting on a pistol blaster at his hip.
"I do say, perhaps it would be best to allow the young lady to compose herself." The next in line, the protocol droid in charge of teaching languages, manners, and a number of other subjects to her interjected, "I believe we all know it is hard enough to think of a rational argument while under undue duress-" C2-Q8 was a standard protocol droid of silvery skin, his arms never the best as they relied on an outside pressurized pump to fold in and out, but a single gesture from the next advisor silenced the droid as the gesture was simply 'shut up' in Galactic sign language.
They waited for her next response, which Zona quickly realized was futile. The expressions on their faces, the full circle of weapons and not a single look of doubt on their faces... It was like a cruel Loth-Cat playing with their prey. Like a Black Ice vulture carrying a fish to shore to watch it drown on land. Maybe, at least, she could spare the rest from the consequences of Her inevitable death.
"I... Kill me, but please spare the droids." Zona begged, "I have no more answers that I believe will convince you. They are more useful with memories intact."
They drank the desperation of Zona like a fine perfume, but their cruel smiles never faltered, as the first of the robed Neimodians responded, "Wrong. Answer." The rabbit struggled against the grips of her oppressor and screamed wordlessly as they gestured to Zev to continue. Zev for his part, hesitating at the noise, and staring at Zona.
"Get on with it boy." One of the advising council hissed at him, and it was with a shaking hand he obeyed.
Zona stomped on a guards foot, and bashed the back of her head into their face as she broke free of the firsts grip and tried to tear herself out of the second's with a wild punch.
Three electro lashes and two stun rounds brought her agonizingly face first back into the hangar floor. The ones who had shot her had been a guard to her left, and Remm. Another dozen blasts had rung out, from the assembled guards, but the rest had missed, leaving in the crossfire another two guards stunned, and a Hk3 droid sparking with a partially destroyed head from where one of the guards shot it, having forgotten to put their blaster to stun.
By the time Zona recovered her senses, the Protocol droid was long gone. Leaving the cook, COO-L4, the mess halls main chef, and V83b left. Both of her arms, and her neck were now restrained by Electrowhips that were on, but on low settings. Constantly adding a slow painful burning sensation on top of everything else. Her groans of agony music to their ears, as the first slowly drew in his whip around her neck, handling the active cord with a specialized gauntlet, "Since you are so desperate to die, very well. We shall give you one last chance to prove your value to us, before we kill you, and reset your last two droids." He tilted his face in a malicious grin as he brought the wound up electrowhip's handle into the same hand as the bounds of cords, and moved to hold her chin in his hand.
His unarmored hand. His filthy grease stained, somewhat slimy green ugly hand. Zona's desperation, pain, and despair turned to full helpless rage. If she was going to die, she might as well leave a mark. Her ears flicked upwards, drawing the Neimodians eyes up to them just as she broke free of his gripping fingers and her jaw opened. Rabbit buck teeth almost gleaming in the light of the hangar. A few of the surrounding Neimoidians eyes lit up in a combination of surprise and alarm as she chomped down on the ugly fingers in range.
Almost immediately the pain going into her wrists by the electrowhips increased to near unbearable levels, but the shock wasn't just hurting her. The pain caused Zona to redouble her grip on the screaming Neimoidians fingers, and with a sickening snip and the noise of flesh tearing, the Neimoidian came free falling on his ass and screaming while Zona dealt with the taste of rancid tasting Neimoidian blood and the looseness of fresh Neimoidian fingers in her mouth. The pain increased as she fell back over again, her arms holding her up as the two monsters holding the remaining whips pulled her arms taunt. The pain subsided and the shocks as well as Zona spat out the disgusting man's fingers onto the glossy floors of the hangar, "I will kill you all." She swore to them, her gaze a glare. The coldness of the words in the panic of the screaming scum caused a pause and stir among the assembled crowd.
Her breathing was ragged. She was in agony as two whips still pulled her, and the third tightened around her throat. Her victim, now missing two of his fingers, screamed, "Kill her! Kill her!" As Zona filtered the words from her mind.
Agony. Hate. Anger. It was immense and overwhelming. A storm of emotions. Pain. Loss. Envy. A weight that held her down amidst terrible winds of her mind. Blasters were leveled at her, but it was too late. Some aspects of her finally broke.
A child cried as blasters triggered.
Like a dream the storm in her dreams escaped. Her body and heart felt as if she was amidst the center of an active Lucerhulk main thruster. Half fired blasters flung upwards by an invisible force as blasters fired, the ground cracked and bent beneath her as electro-whips were pulled tight and snapped. Shattering. Even the Vulture was knocked off its feet by the wave of the storm, the ones on the ceiling swaying in their clamps, and becoming active from the motion in shock.
Half of her attackers were thrown out of the hanger bay into the void of space beyond. Droids and guards alike flailing through the air into space. The droids would be fine, but the guards? Not so much. One of the advisors joined them in death as space claimed them a victim. Jev was knocked off his feet, but his mag boots kept him attached to the ground, and in agony as the wind knocked out of him. The Vulture slid with the impact, and managed to right itself as it passed halfway across the hangar space and looked at the ongoing situation in surprise as its control bolt shattered from the impact. The cooking droid had unfortunately hit the far wall, and deactivated. Its fate unknown to an overwhelmed Zona, as the remainder of her tormentors were crushed up against the hangar walls. The first impact was only a warm up for things to come.
Zona screamed in pain and agony, a wordless expression of rage as unknown energy flooded through her beyond her control. The Hangar lights flickering as the tempest storms winds that she saw in her mind called forth lightning from her fingers and seething rage directed it to the Crew.
Remm shouted something but she couldn't hear him. The advisors would die. Blue lightning tinged with red flew from her fingers and the two fancy robed Kriffing bastards who thought themselves so high and mighty screamed in agony as Zona treated them to years of pent up rage and despair.
She didn't stop until the screams did, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the hangar. Remm dragged his blaster out of his belt, and fired, only for it to be frozen a meter from him as the storm raged on. And Yunuva started to turn to deal with him next, when a soft wide hand placed itself on her head.
"That is enough." Yunuva spoke, his voice calm despite the storm, "You have proven yourself. Breathe."
Zona let out a noise of choked rage and pain, and Yunuva leaned down to wrap the girl in a hug, "Breathe..." His voice sounded with the force, his robe billowing in her storm.
Zona sobbed, as she broke once more. The storm was starting to calm. The errant blaster bolt flying off over their heads and into the far wall. Remm fell into a roll and rose, prepared to take another shot, but was promptly kicked by V-83b, who glared at him and gave the winded chief of security a glare that could kill. An impressive feat for a droid without the ability to change its face.
The remaining Neimodians fell to the ground in a groaning heap, as the Force Storm slowed and faded, leaving behind a crying child and what was, to the rest of them, the twisted foundation of fatherhood.
"Rise. Zona, you are safe here with me." Yunuva spoke words that Zona had so desperately wanted to hear all her life, "We have much to discuss."