A knock came before the sun had even touched the windows, firm enough to wake me. I slowly sat up with a yawn, my hair tangled across my eyes as I rubbed them. "Liora," came Father's voice from the other side of the door, calm and clipped. "It's time."
I was up, kicking off my blanket, and already halfway into my boots before I remembered I hadn't brushed my teeth. My tunic was wrinkled from where I'd balled it up on the end of the bed, but I tugged it on anyway. My travel bag had been packed last night by Aunty Jenza, and it sat by the door now.
I opened the door to find Father already buttoning the collar of his travel coat. His lightsaber rested at his hip. He looked at me for a beat, scanning from my scuffed boots to the half-tucked tunic.
"You forgot something," he said.
"I brushed my teeth."
"You didn't brush your hair."
I paused. "…Can we say I'm going for a windswept look?"
He sighed. "The shuttle is waiting. Come."
The hangar was small, tucked into one of the western ridges behind the estate. Cold wind rushed through the pass as we walked, biting at my sleeves. I kept my arms wrapped around myself, bag bumping against my hip as I walked. Ahead, the hangar doors parted with a low mechanical groan.
And there it was. Our ship. It wasn't big. Not sleek either, not like the racing yachts from the holos. The hull was dark grey with bronze trim, slightly weathered but well-kept. No Republic insignia. No name painted across the side. Just… a ship. Modest, quiet. Made for travel without attention.
It had four landing struts, a rounded underbelly, and a boarding ramp that lowered with a soft hiss. As it settled, I noticed how small it was compared to the bigger transports I'd seen passing through Serenno's spaceport, but not cramped either. Big enough for a few people to move comfortably.
I followed Father up the ramp. Inside, the lights were dim, the walls dull metal with minimal ornamentation. It smelled clean. The entrance hall was narrow, leading to a central space just large enough to fit a table bolted to the floor and a cushioned bench wrapping around one half.
To the left, a narrow door slid open to reveal a room with bunk beds stacked into the wall. The sheets were plain. There, across the hall, was a private room, with a large bed. Across the hall, a door led to a tiny refresher: sink, fold-down toilet, sonic shower.
I stood still, drinking it all in. "This is it?" I asked.
"This is it," he said. I wandered into the bunk room, set my bag down, and crawled up onto the top bunk. The ceiling was just low enough that I could touch it with both hands while standing. There was a reading light tucked into the panel beside me and a tiny shelf for a datapad or journal.
"…I like it," I said eventually. I glanced over my shoulder. "Do you ever take other people with you?"
"No."
"Not even Aunt Jenza?"
"No."
I smiled and flopped onto my back. "Then I feel special." We launched not long after. I sat beside him in the cockpit, strapped into the smaller copilot's seat while the stars grew larger in the viewport. I had to be honest, Serenno was beautiful to see from up here. The ship hummed gently beneath my boots, and I held the armrests tighter than I meant to.
He noticed, and I caught the way he angled the ship's pitch, slower, steadier, as we cleared Serenno's upper atmosphere. It's always a bit odd to see your home world from space, well, at least I thought so. The jump to hyperspace came with no warning. Stars stretched. And with a soft ripple, the ship slipped into the blue tunnel of hyperspace.
I gasped. Just a little. "It's beautiful," I whispered.
"Yes," he said. "It is." Over the next few hours, I explored every corner of the ship. There wasn't much. A closet with vacuum suits. A compartment with rations and drinks in case of a crash. A hidden panel near the refresher that I wasn't supposed to find but absolutely did.
The galley table became my base. I drew in my notebook. Tried to sketch what the stars looked like when they stretched. Father checked the navigation console and sent out a few encrypted pings. I asked if I could help. He said not yet. When I got bored, I tried meditating again. It lasted two minutes.
The ship smelled different when the food was heating. Less sterile, more like the manor's kitchens when I'd sneak in during breakfast prep. I sat at the small dining bench with my legs swinging under the table, watching the stew bubble gently in the reheat dish.
Father poured two bowls and set them down. The bread was plain but still soft in the center, and the water was fresh. Everything tasted better up here, I thought, like my brain was tricked into believing this was an adventure meal.
He didn't say anything at first. Just ate. I copied him, trying not to slurp too loud. Then he cleared his throat. "…Tell me more about the dream."
I slowed a little, scooping at the broth. "Which part?"
"The woman," he said. "You said she was important."
I stared down at my bowl. The chunks of root vegetable floated around like little ships in gold water. "She's in pain," I said quietly. "She's… trapped. Alone. I don't know exactly where. Just that it's dry and hot and wrong. I can feel it when I sleep."
He didn't interrupt. I peeked up at him and saw his eyes fixed on me. "She's not just important to herself," I said slowly. "She matters to someone else. Someone who matters a lot."
"To you?"
I shook my head. "To the galaxy."
There was a pause. He placed his spoon down gently. "And what happens if we don't find her?"
I didn't answer right away. My throat felt tight. "I don't know the full shape of it," I said finally. "But there's… something. A darkness. Like a shadow curled in the Force. I can't see its face, but it feels like—" I stopped.
"Like what?" he asked, quieter now.
"Like it used to be warm and bright," I whispered. "But something broke it. And now it only knows how to hurt and hate."
He was silent again. I took another bite, but I wasn't really hungry anymore. The warm food sat heavy in my stomach. "She's a thread," I said. "And if it snaps… everyone will suffer, across this galaxy."
His eyes sharpened. "Suffer?" He looked down, hands folded. Thinking.
"I know it sounds strange," I said. "But I feel it, Papa. It's real." His expression softened. Barely. But I saw it. "You see more than most," he said. "Perhaps because you listen more than most."
I smiled. A little. "I'll make contact with an old associate," he said, rising with his now-empty bowl. "He might know more about the region. If this woman exists, we'll find her. I'll need a description."
Something warm settled in my chest. Not just relief. Hope. I told him how she looked, to the best of my abilities. I watched him rinse the bowl in the sink, hands practiced, sleeves rolled back.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
He didn't turn around, but he nodded. "Finish eating your meal." And I did, after 4 mins. After I finished cleaning my plate, I lingered by the sink longer than I needed to. The hum of the ship felt louder now. It wasn't scary exactly… just different.
I wandered toward the bunk room, dragging my hand along the wall. The lights had dimmed for night cycle, soft and bluish, but I still felt that ache in my chest, the one that shows up when everything else is quiet and your brain starts whispering questions it probably shouldn't.
I stopped outside my bunk and stared at it.I only managed to climb halfway up. Then paused. The ship creaked. Just once. Probably just pressure settling, but my skin prickled anyway. I climbed back down, my arms dropped to my sides as I sighed and padded barefoot across the hall to the other room.
Father's door wasn't shut. I stood there for a second, not knocking. Not saying anything. Just thinking. I slowly walked in and peeked. He was already lying on the large bed, one arm folded behind his head, lightsaber resting on the wall shelf nearby. He didn't look up right away, but I knew he heard me.
"...Couldn't sleep?" he asked, voice quiet in the dark. I hesitated. "Something like that." His eyes flicked toward me, calm but alert. "Is something wrong?" I bit the inside of my cheek. "…I don't like space yet," I admitted, just above a whisper.
A pause. Then he shifted a little, rolling onto his side and pulling the blanket back. I didn't wait, and I climbed up and tucked myself against his side, my head on his chest. He was warm, and I could feel the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing beneath my ear. His arm wrapped around my shoulder.
"You've seen so much of the galaxy," I murmured. "But I haven't seen anything."
"You will once you're much older," he said simply. I smiled, eyes already growing heavy.
"I'm not being a baby, am I?"
"No, it's okay to be nervous about something new."
I blinked slowly. "Do you think I'm brave?"
His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. "Bravery isn't the absence of fear, Liora. It's moving forward in spite of it."
I nodded into his chest. "Okay." The ship rumbled softly beneath us. But I didn't feel afraid anymore. And ended up falling asleep.
Pov Count Dooku
The next day.
I took the pilot's seat once more. We were three systems out from Tatooine, gliding along a lesser-used hyperlane. The kind smugglers prefer. Not that I expected trouble. Only… I'd learned, long ago, to prepare for it regardless.
My thoughts were on my daughter, still sleeping. She had clung to me in the dark last night, uncharacteristically of her, yet also expected of children who first experience space. She never said the word afraid, but she didn't have to. I remember what it feels like, your first time among the stars. It's not all beauty. There's an awful silence, too.
A subtle shift on the long-range scanner drew my eyes. I frowned. I leaned forward, adjusting the viewport shading. Drifting just beyond the reach of our flight path was a Purrgil. Larger than our ship by several orders of magnitude, its massive fins moved slowly, like curtains in deep water. Bioluminescent streaks shimmered across its violet hide, pulsing with faint light. A single, thoughtful eye passed across the side of our hull as it turned.
I stood quietly. Then called over my shoulder. "Liora." It didn't take long. Light footsteps hurried from the hall, bare feet on metal. She padded in, blinking sleep from her eyes, her hair still mussed from sleep. "What is it?" she asked, voice soft but curious.
I stepped aside, gesturing toward the main viewport. She looked and stopped breathing for a moment. "Beautiful," she whispered, the word so soft it barely carried over the hum of the ship. She stepped forward until her hands touched the edge of the console. Her nose was nearly pressed to the glass. The Purrgil glided past, trailing faint glowing particles in its wake like it was leaving pieces of a dream behind.
"You've seen one before?" she asked, still staring. "Only once," I said. "Near the Outer Rim. During a mission, long ago." Her eyes flicked to me briefly. "Did you follow it?"
"No," I said. "I was a Jedi then. Bound by duty. I watched it pass, and that was the end of it."
The creature twisted gently in the vastness, tail swaying like silk in slow motion. Then without warning, it surged forward and vanished into hyperspace. Gone. As if it had never been there at all.
Liora let out a breath. "Do they always do that?" she asked.
"When they choose to," I said. "They travel the stars like ships do." Her smile lingered as she turned back to the window, chin resting on her folded arms. Watching the stars, even though the Purrgil was gone.