=== Ahsoka ===
Consciousness returned to Ahsoka gently, dragging her upward from darkness into a body that no longer felt like her own. Pain greeted her first, followed by the hollow churn of her stomach as she lurched forward, barely managing to turn before she retched violently onto the side of the bed.
The motion sent a spike of agony through her ribs and shoulder, her breath hitching into panicked gasps as the world swam in and out of focus, light too bright, sound too loud, everything wrong all at once. Shapes moved around her, voices distant and muffled, until a pair of hands steadied her, guiding her back just enough to keep her from collapsing entirely.
"Hey, it's alright, you're safe," a voice said calmly. "Easy now. Breathe."
Ahsoka tried, but the air felt thin, her lungs unwilling to obey as her mind raced ahead of her body, clawing for answers that refused to come. Her eyes snapped toward the speaker, focusing on the figure of a medical personnel kneeling beside her, their expression worried in a way that only made the dread rising in her chest worse.
"Where am I?" she demanded, her voice raw and unsteady, driven by fear. "Where is this?"
"You are under Imperium care," the medicae replied. "You were brought in with critical injuries. You've been unconscious for several days."
The words barely registered before Ahsoka pushed past them, her thoughts snapping to the one thing that mattered above all else as her gaze sharpened with sudden urgency. "Padmé," she said, the name catching in her throat. "Where is she? What happened to her?"
The medicae hesitated.
Ahsoka saw it in the woman's eyes, in the way her posture shifted almost imperceptibly, and in that moment, she already knew the answer before it was spoken.
The medicae pulled a chair closer, sitting across from her so that they were level, so that there would be no distance between them when she spoke the hard truth that has unraveled days before.
"We did everything we could," the woman began quietly. "She was brought in in critical condition, and the strain of the birth… it was too much for her body to endure. Padmé did not survive."
For a moment, the world simply… stopped. As though everything around her had lost its connection to her entirely, the words echoing in her mind without fully taking root, without fully becoming real.
She did not react, did not speak, did not even seem to breathe as the truth hovered just beyond her acceptance.
The medicae continued, gently, as though afraid that silence might be worse.
"She gave birth before she passed," she said. "A boy and a girl. Both healthy. She named them Luke and Leia."
Ahsoka's shoulders sank back against the bed as though whatever had been holding her upright had finally given way, her gaze drifting somewhere distant, unfocused, as the weight of it all settled over her in full.
The medicae watched her for a moment longer, recognizing the look. She recognized the quiet collapse of someone's world and after a time, she stood slowly from her chair. "You should get some rest," the woman said softly. "Your body needs time to recover."
Ahsoka did not respond, and the medicae did not press.
With a final glance, the woman turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind her with a muted hiss that left Ahsoka alone with the quiet hum of machinery and the soft presence of the two droids at her side that had stayed silent until then.
Eventually, her eyes shifted, focusing at last on the droid beside her. "C-3PO…" her voice was quieter now, stripped of its earlier urgency. "Where are the children?"
The droid straightened slightly, his photoreceptors flickering as he processed the question. "Oh… Miss Ahsoka," he began, his tone tinged with that familiar anxious cadence, "the twins are being kept under constant guard. The Imperium has taken… considerable precautions regarding their safety."
Without another word, Ahsoka pushed herself upright, ignoring the protest of her body as she reached for the lines still attached to her arm and pulled them free with a wince.
C-3PO recoiled slightly. "Oh dear, I really don't think that's advisable! You've only just regained consciousness, and given the number of guards stationed—"
A sharp series of beeps cut him off.
"Oh, don't start with me," C-3PO snapped, turning toward the astromech. "This is not cowardice, it is basic self-preservation! The Imperium is hardly known for its fondness toward droids, particularly the Astartes, and I for one would prefer not to be dismantled in a hallway!"
R2-D2 responded with an indignant chirp… Then shocked him.
C-3PO jerked violently, letting out a metallic yelp before kicking weakly at the smaller droid. "Stop that! That is entirely unnecessary!"
While they argued, Ahsoka had already moved on.
Her eyes scanned the room, until they landed on a maintenance panel along the wall. Without hesitation, she crossed the space and tore it free, the metal bending under the Force as she pulled it aside and leaned in just enough to peer into the narrow passage beyond.
She turned back to the droids, who were still mid-argument. "Are you coming," she asked, her tone leaving little room for hesitation, "or not?"
She didn't wait for an answer.
She slipped into the vent, pulling herself forward despite the strain it put on her still-healing body, the metal cool beneath her hands as she crawled deeper into the passage.
R2-D2 chirped once and followed immediately.
C-3PO hesitated for all of two seconds. "Oh, this is a terrible idea," he muttered to himself before awkwardly climbing in after them, his limbs scraping loudly against the confines of the duct as he struggled to keep up.
It took a long time to find what she was looking for. Much longer than she would have liked.
Eventually, the passage opened into a vertical shaft, and beyond it, she could see the hangar below, vast and alive with movement as ships were prepped, launched, and repaired in a constant cycle fueled by the war raging outside.
Without hesitation, she began her descent.
She dropped the final stretch, landing harder than she intended as pain flared through her side, but she forced herself upright, scanning the hangar as R2 rolled up beside her. Moments later, C-3PO came crashing down behind them in a clatter of metal that made her close her eyes briefly in irritation.
"R2," she said, already moving toward one of the nearby ships, "can you get us in one of these?"
The droid beeped affirmatively and rolled ahead, extending a probe into a nearby control panel as he began interfacing with the system. Ahsoka glanced around, noting the tension in the air, the heightened activity, the distant tremor of bombardment that echoed even within the hangar walls.
Then the ramp lowered.
"Good," she murmured, moving immediately for the ship, the droids close behind as they boarded. She slid into the pilot's seat, hands moving across unfamiliar controls as systems flickered to life as the engines began to hum beneath her.
But through the viewport, something massive stepped into view.
A Dreadnought.
A voice followed, amplified and thunderous. "Power down the vessel. Return to your quarters. You are not authorized to depart."
Ahsoka didn't respond.
Her jaw tightened as her hands moved faster, pushing the ship to life as the engines roared, the craft lurching forward as she gunned the thrusters and drove it straight toward the exit, toward the Dreadnought itself.
If she couldn't slip past it… then she would go through it. Or so she thought.
The distance closed rapidly, the massive machine bracing itself as she committed fully, intent on turning the ship into a weapon if that was what it took, but at the last moment, the Dreadnought moved, its massive arm slamming into the side of the vessel.
The ship spun out of control, smashing into the ground just outside the hangar in a violent crash that sent Ahsoka slamming forward, her vision exploding into white as her head struck the console. For a moment, everything blurred, sound distorting into a dull roar as she struggled to remain conscious, her hand coming away from her forehead slick with blood.
"R2… Threepio…" she managed, forcing herself to focus.
"I am entirely intact!" C-3PO replied immediately, though his voice trembled. "Though I must say, I strongly object to this method of travel!"
The Dreadnought's voice came again, closer now. "Exit the vessel. This is your final warning."
Ahsoka's eyes flicked upward.
Then something else happened.
An Empire ship screamed overhead, flying far too close, its trajectory forcing the Dreadnought to turn, its weapons firing in a sudden burst that obliterated the vessel in a blinding explosion.
Ahsoka didn't hesitate as she slammed the controls forward, engines flaring as the ship roared back to life, tearing itself from the ground and launching upward in a desperate surge, clearing the wreckage and blasting toward the sky before the Dreadnought could react.
=== Vulkan ===
"Into the Fires of Battle, unto the Anvil of War!" Vulkan roared as he descended into the battlefield.
The first line of resistance did not even understand what it faced.
Clone troopers turned, rifles snapping up as targeting systems locked, volleys of blaster fire streaking toward the Primarch in bursts that would have cut down lesser warriors in seconds, yet Vulkan did not so much as slow.
The Iron Halo above him flared like a furnace, its radiant shield catching the incoming fire in a storm of crackling energy that washed harmlessly across its surface, while what little slipped through shattered against the impossibility of his armor.
Vulkan lifted his plasma pistol, and when he fired, the weapon did not merely discharge, it roared, a sphere of incandescent fury tearing across the distance and slamming into the lead gunship bearing down on him. The cockpit vaporized in an instant, the craft lurching violently before spiraling out of control and crashing into the advancing lines behind it, the explosion blooming outward in a chain reaction that tore apart everything caught in its wake.
A squad of stormtroopers broke formation and charged, desperation overtaking discipline as they closed the distance, perhaps believing that proximity might give them a chance, that numbers might mean something against a being of flesh and blood.
Vulkan met them without hesitation, Urdrakule rising in his grasp before coming down in a single, devastating slam that annihilated everything around it. The hammer connected with the ground between them, and the impact detonated outward in a concussive wave that shattered armor, broke bodies, and hurled the survivors through the air like discarded husks.
Those who still lived tried to rise, tried to aim, tried to fight, but Vulkan was already among them, crushing one beneath his boot while his gauntleted hand seized another and tore him from the ground before hurling him into his fellows.
Behind him, Sebastian followed like a shadow of wrath, the Darksaber carving through anything that slipped past the Primarch's immediate reach, his shield smashing aside enemies as his bolt pistol thundered, yet for all his fury, for all his skill, there was no denying the truth of the moment.
Beside Vulkan, even a Black Templar looked… weak.
The ground shook again.
Heavy walkers advanced through the smoke, their armored frames shrugging off small-arms fire as they brought their weapons to bear, cannons rotating toward the Primarch as targeting systems locked onto him. They fired in unison, a barrage of destructive force that tore the ground apart where Vulkan stood, the explosions engulfing him in fire and debris as the earth itself was ripped open beneath the assault.
For a heartbeat, he vanished.
Then he stepped out of the fire.
His armor was scorched, his form wreathed in the dying flames of the barrage, Vulkan advanced once more, his pace unchanged, his gaze fixed upon the machines that had dared to challenge him.
The first walker tried to adjust, to bring its weapons to bear again, but it was too slow. Vulkan closed the distance in a blur of motion that belied his immense size, Urdrakule rising high before crashing down upon the walker's chassis with catastrophic force. The impact split the machine apart, its armor buckling inward as its core detonated, the explosion tearing it open like a fragile shell.
The second walker fared no better.
Vulkan turned, his plasma pistol firing again, the shot punching clean through the cockpit before the pilot could even comprehend what was happening, the machine staggering before collapsing in on itself as its systems failed.
The third attempted to retreat, to reposition, but Sebastian was already there, his blade cutting deep into its joints as Vulkan closed in once more, the hammer falling again and reducing it to ruin in a single, thunderous strike.
Above them, the sky churned with descending transports, waves of reinforcements pouring into the battlefield in an unending tide, their numbers meant to overwhelm, to drown Mandalore in sheer force. They came screaming through the atmosphere, engines blazing as they deployed their payloads, soldiers spilling from their hulls in coordinated drops meant to encircle and crush what remained of the defenders.
Vulkan strode directly into the landing zone, placing himself at the point where the enemy would strike hardest, where their numbers would be greatest, where the weight of their assault would break against him. The first transports touched down, ramps slamming open as troops surged forward, their weapons already firing, their voices lost in the roar of battle as they threw themselves into the fray with all the force they could muster.
Vulkan met them with a wrath that bordered on the divine, his hammer rising and falling in relentless rhythm, each strike sending bodies flying, each impact reshaping the ground beneath him as though the planet itself recoiled from the force of his blows. Blaster fire raked across him, explosions detonated at his feet, yet he advanced through it all as though it were nothing more than wind against a mountain, his presence unyielding, his will absolute.
A gunship swooped low, cannons blazing as it attempted to bring him down from above, its pilot committing fully to the attack as it poured everything it had into a single, decisive strike.
Vulkan answered with a single shot.
The plasma bolt struck true, tearing through the cockpit and igniting the fuel reserves in a violent chain reaction that reduced the craft to a fireball in the sky, its wreckage crashing down behind him in a blazing ruin that added only more chaos to the battlefield.
And still, nothing the Empire threw at him could slow him, could shake him, could force him back even a single step.
For Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders, fought against them like a God among men.
===
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