Wanderer Lost, Wanderer Found
Kalidan Imperial Palace, Day
She must have read the announcement ten times in as many minutes. Maybe more. Probably more. It was hard to tell.
It felt like Vidalu Na'an had read it a thousand times, since the news came in from the Kalidan local network an hour ago. The Emperor and Empress, having left the planet unattended, vanished without a trace. Gone--no explanation, no signs of a struggle, no nothing. Just gone.
The sight of the words had woken a horrible sort of restlessness inside her, in those ten minutes. The feeling that if she didn't do something intensely physical right now she'd snap, do something unthinkably stupid, seemed to rattle in her bones, and so with a cursory glance at Leigh she left their quarters, missive in hand.
Leigh didn't try to stop her. She had the records of the Family, of Vyra, and she'd been present for the last year just as much as Na'an had. Although the droid wouldn't be as...affected...although she'd be able to see this news as the boon it was for the Rebellion and its cause, she also knew her human. Her human had...needs.
Oh, gods, did she have needs.
The passages towards the Guard Halls were unusually empty, even for Kalidan. Na'an wondered dimly if the Emperor's Hand--Empress Regent, now--had already put them on state for a symbolic funeral. If she had, nobody had bothered to notify her. Perhaps her position as an 'honorary guard' wouldn't hold the same weight now that....now that--
No. Damn it all, no. Settle the body first, then go back to Leigh to process. That was how it was done.
Na'an's hands shook on the training room console. Which was funny; she hadn't even realized she was headed here until she'd been standing in front of its control center. She swore at her fingers to stop, kneaded one palm with the other, forced them to complete the input of the training program. She'd set the controls to live fire, which was not usually recommended at this difficulty, but hell, her body clearly knew what it wanted. As the chamber on the other side loaded, Na'an stripped off a layer in preparation. The stiff Imperial jacket fell in a heap at the side of the console, followed by the thick heavy boots and socks; she shivered as the icy air raised gooseflesh on her bare shoulders. That part wasn't so bad. She was used to the cold, at this point.
Her hands steadied slightly as she covered them in protective tape. She could focus on the strip winding around her knuckles, between her spindly fingers, across her palm, around her wrist, down her arm. It had been a while since she'd had to wrap for unarmed combat simulations. The Empire didn't make a practice of it after basic training, preferring to drill weapons mastery. That wasn't uncommon, though; the Jedi were much the same. She'd had a laugh about it not too long ago. Back on Elenthaeus, she'd told--
She'd told--
Damn it. Damn it all.
She wrapped the last loop of tape too tight around her wrist to stop the shaking again; her fingers turned pale from more than just the cold.
The console beeped once. The program was ready. Na'an almost crossed to the training room door, but paused, looking down at the heap of clothing at her feet. Suddenly, she snatched at her eye, and the strip of black covering it fluttered down to join the rest.
Damn it. If Vyra had just--if this was really happening, then damn it all, just this once.
The training room door opened. From this angle, Na'an could see three armed battle droids already aiming at her, despite not having entered yet.
It was with a hard and hollow sound in her throat that she crossed the training room threshold, and let it enclose her.
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