The door slid open, breaking the tense silence filling the empty room on the cruiser. The clone commander entered the room, his footsteps light and soft. He stared at the blue figure kneeling on the ground. Sighing, he lifted up and r3mov3d his helmet, the airlock hissing. “He will be buried,” he remarked, waiting for an answer with patient brown eyes. “That’s not the point,” replied Alera, and she stood, pressing her hands into the floor as she did. Her yellow eyes, flashing with anger, landed on him. “He’s d3ad, and…” Trailing off, tears slid down her cheek, and she ran the back of her hand across her face, p@in flaring as she brushed the bull3t w0und. Alera winced and brushed past the commander. “Have we landed?” “Almost,” he said, following her down the hall. “And, kid, you should get that checked.” With an abrupt halt in the hall, she turned on him, hands clenched. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have to.” “You’re rather ungrateful for having your life saved.” He nodded ahead, and they returned to their course, trailing the halls to the command deck. “Well, I’m not feeling very grateful, commander,” she whispered, voice low and seething. Master Dyarron stood inside the doorway when the door slid away, his arms crossed over his brown robes. He acknowledged his commander, who moved to his fellow clones, and the master set his focus on the girl before him. “What will you do with me?” she asked, setting her hands on her hips. “We are about to land on Coruscant,” he explained while walking down the platform, the many officers working below them at their stations. Alera watched them, yellow eyes blurred with too much anger to be curious, “and I would very much like to introduce you before the Council.” “Sounds ominous,” she remarked with sarcasm, “and I don’t want to. Now what?” “You must come and see them, then I shall let you go, Alera Danta,” he replied, voice cool, and he joined the admiral near the large window, a gray planet streaked with bright light in view. The gray-uniformed admiral, his face creased with weariness from the war, addressed the Jedi while Alera stood alone, watching the planet inch closer. “That is Coruscant, kid,” whispered the clone commander as he stepped up behind her. “Pretty amazing, isn't it?” “I have a name, commander,” she snapped, though curiosity pulled her eyes towards the illuminated planet. “So do I, Alera.” He caught the beckoning of Master Dyarron, and while walking away, he called over his shoulder, “It’s Derek.” Alera trained her eyes on the floor, biting her lip, while she stood on the walkway. The ship eased itself into the atmosphere of the capital planet, the officers on the deck taking orders from the severe admiral while Master Dyarron and Derek watched near the window. Amid it all, Alera stood alone, shaking in frustration, her eyes shut tight lest her curiosity overcome her. “Alera Danta,” Master Dyarron and Derek passed her, and she forced her eyes open, “it is time that we embark.” Her ears burning with new, unfamiliar sounds, Alera circled the street, watching the glowing speeders whiz by overhead at dangerous speeds. Flashing neon signs in languages she did not know buzzed and flickered, and hundreds of species passed the squadron of clones, their clothes varying from the drab she recognized to the brightest of colors. Derek laid his hand on her shoulder to guide her as they weaved in and out of crowds, their boots sinking in several puddles on the street. “It’s a busty city, kid. Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” he whispered in her ear, and her shoulder blades tensed as his grip tightened. She glanced between the clone’s scarred face and his peaceful master, detecting the slight nod Master Dyarron gave him. “Let me go,” she muttered, teeth clenched. “I can run, and you’ll never find me again.” The clone chuckled behind his helmet. “Master Dyarron would find you, Alera, so stay close.” “Will you torture me after then?” she demanded, though her voice echoed louder in the street, a fire filling her words. “The Jedi are peacemakers, Alera. They’re not the Separatists.” He turned her down another street. Alera sighed. “Why are we not taking a speeder or something? All this walking for a Jedi Master is ridiculous.” Again, Derak chuckled. “Kid, Master Dyarron chooses not to take one. He likes the extra exercise. Besides, there it is.” His announcement spiked her interest, and Alera observed the boxy building, the haven of the Jedi, her eyes less angry while they climbed the steps inside. There were less people inside than the busy streets, but Alera felt every pair of eyes as they watched the dirty Pantoran girl, her blue skin dusted with dirt while her cheek w0und glared out. Squaring her shoulders, Alera shook off Derek’s grip to join Master Dyarron, who was nodding at each Jedi they passed as if they were all his close friends. “Dalen!” A tall man, his robes tan and white, stopped their procession.
He shook his friend’s hand, the shining metal hilt on his belt shaking. Alera eyed it with curiosity, wondering what the color might be. “And who do we have here?” Alera bit her lip, fighting the urge to shy away under the steady gaze of the Jedi’s blue eyes as he stroked his orange beard. “This is a Pantoran child we picked among prisoners bound for Kessel,” explained Master Dyarron. “Why is she here then?” asked his friend, voice gentle and soothing. “I believe, after a bl00d test, that she might be of interest to the Council.” The Jedi’s eyebrows rose. “Indeed. Are you taking her there now?” Master Dyarron nodded and tucked his hands under the mass of his robe. “Care to join us, Kenobi?” Alera jerked her attention away from a young Torgruta, who was speaking with another girl, Mirialan by the look of her tatt00s down the hall, both smiling and laughing. “General Kenobi?” she repeated. “The master who trained Anakin Skywalker?” “The very same,” replied Master Kenobi with a laugh. “You know your war heroes well, Alera.” “Thank you,” she said, voice stiff. “Well,” Master Dyarron turned to Derek, “shall we continue on?” Master Kenboi nodded, and they walked ahead together, speaking in low tones. “Hey, kid,” said Derek, placing his hand on her shoulder once again, “ready to meet the Council?”
