Reunion

Bao-dur heard the crippled shuttle before he saw it, looking up from his work at the explosion in the distance. A high-pitched whine grew louder and louder around him, until it rocketed over his head in a blaze of fire and smoke, and crashed ungainly to the ground - sending earth and rubble flying like a tidal wave in all directions. He glanced at the mark of Citadel Station fixed to the side and dropped his equipment, and as he ran to the wreckage prayed to the Force that it wasn't more Czerka employees on the inside.

He could tell as soon as he approached that the small vessel was beyond any repair - the nose had accordioned inwards, the tip of a wing broken clean off. The engine was sparking and smoldering, and the stench of fuel was thick in the air, meaning he had only minutes to check for survivors before the wreckage caught fire.

It took a few tries to pry open the cockpit door, but with a few well-placed blasts from his remote, it finally gave way. Three of them, he noted. All out cold...shouldn't be too hard to move the two women, but the other looks pretty stuck. Pulling a small knife from his belt, he quickly cut through the safety restraints of the women and one by one, pulled them from their seats and outside to a safe distance from the shuttle. The armored woman had had a hefty weight to her, but the brown-robed one was frailer than a flower in Tattooine's suns. He didn't spare much time to check, but he was fairly certain they hadn't been injured too badly.

Like he'd predicted, the third occupant of the ship proved difficult to remove. The crushed front end of the shuttle had pinned the dark-haired man between his chair and the control panel, and Bao-dur lacked the strength to pull the stuck chair backward. He was afraid to pull him out bodily and risk hurting him, but he could sense he was running out of time -- the smell of fuel and smoke was growing stronger by the minute, and so was the danger of the restoration zone's less-than-desirable occupants arriving, who would have been alerted by the crash too. As he was about to wrench the man out by his arms, he was surprised by a sudden voice from behind him.

'If you will move aside, Iridonian, I shall remove him in a way less likely to separate him from his torso.'

Bao-dur turned to see the old robed woman standing outside. Rather than guess as to how she managed to recover so quickly, he stepped aside to give her space. With a deft movement of her hand, the crumpled control panel inverted with a metallic creak, and Bao-dur easily lifted the man out. A Jedi? He wondered curiously. Placing his limp form next to the other still-unconscious woman, he turned to his mysterious assistant.

'I thank you for you aid,' she said, sounding rather impassive, 'but the crash has tired me, and I must regain my strength. I will return shortly when the others regain consciousness.' And before he could reply, she began walking away into the wilderness of the restoration zone, with a smoothness of gait that belied her age. He waited until she had disappeared beyond the nearest hill, and returned his focus to the shuttle's other casualties.

Despite being crushed in the crash, the man bore no serious injuries, aside from a substantial amount of bruising on his crest that would be paining him for the next few days. Lucky guy, he thought. I've seen a lot worse from better landings than that. There was no question that he wasn't with Czerka, considering the odd companions he had been traveling with - that and the lack of uniform. This one was covered in a mismatch of clothing and light armor, and to Bao-dur's curiosity (which was now amounting considerably) seemed to be toting mining lasers in his holsters.

From the side of the man, he heard a faint groan. In his haste, he had placed the younger woman face-down in a prone position on the ground, and he could see she was beginning to stir. Her copper hair had come loose from the thong that had been holding it back, and it had spilled limply in front of her face. She was wearing a standard sort of armor over top of civilian clothes, and bore a wicked-looking vibroblade in a scabbard at her side. Kneeling down beside her, Bao-dur gently rolled her onto her back and brushed the hair from her face -- and froze as he was jolted with a chill that ran down his spine like he had been doused in ice water.

When he had pulled her from the shuttle, he hadn't recognized her with her long wavy hair and clothing, as he had been so accustomed to her shaven scalp and full battle regalia. But it was her without a doubt, and he knew - knew that when she opened her eyes, Malachor V would come crashing back to him again, forceful and unrelenting - and he knew there would be no way for him to shield himself against it.

The last time he had seen her, was as she was leaving the medical ward on Coruscant that housed the injured and dead from that last battle...where she had lain in a coma for nearly three weeks. He had been leaving the docking platform on his way to help fix equipment, and he saw her boarding an out-bound transport ship. On her way up the ramp she had stopped and turned to him, and he returned her gaze, silently. Neither had spoken, or acknowledged the other. She continued on and the ramp closed behind her, and he watched the ship take off, bound for places he couldn't begin to guess.

But he had felt that day a tugging at his mind, a feeling that was both soothing and disturbing as he had watched her leave. Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew one day they would cross paths again, for she was his General.

And the Force works in strange ways.

She groaned again, and her eyelids began to flutter. He retreated swiftly from her side, afraid to be the first thing she saw, afraid to look into her eyes and see the echo of destruction and death there. It had taken years to push them down and lock them away -- the feelings, the emotions, the memories -- too long to risk loosing the fragile shields he had placed around them, lest he loose himself again. Because he knew she would need him, and he would have to be strong, because he knew he would follow her.

She sat up, and taking in the sight of the ruined shuttle frantically looked around, and seeing the man lying next to her, shook him rather violently. He groaned and swore in some language Bao-dur couldn't understand, but nonetheless didn't look too worse for wear when he stood up beside her. He could see the older force-user appear on top of a nearby hill and head towards them. Now was the time.

I don't believe in fate, General, he thought as he approached, but I believe in the Force. It has brought me to you so I will be your rock -- solid and unbreaking.

And perhaps, he though, as the General turned to face him for the first time in ten years,

Perhaps it has brought you to me...so you will be my redemption.