Another Living Force story
Mar. 2nd, 2006 11:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walbournA Rough Morning
Sitting on the cool duracrete tile floor of the fresher, Sara closed her eyes and tried to calm the sensation of nausea rolling through her body. The Force gave those attuned to it and properly trained immense control over their own metabolism, but biology could not always be tamed or pushed aside. The powerful hormones coursing through her in response to the tiny life growing within had been playing havoc with her every morning this week, and today was no exception.
Having sprinted the four meters from the bed to the sink, she was trying to let the sensation pass without making it any worse by thinking too much about it. She instead concentrated on the sounds of her home: the low hum of a droid recharger, the whirring of air recycle fans, and the light dripping of water from humidity-reduction packs. What was pulling at her mind were the sounds she didn't hear, sounds she had grown accustomed to and their absence now felt like an aching wound.
Denny had been gone for a week, and she had been doing an admirable job of keeping the loneliness and longing at the edge of her thoughts. Today was harder though because of the dreams that had pulled her out of a deep restful sleep.
When her husband had decided to say behind on Kashyyyk to help the Republic Army in their battle with the Separatists droid invasion force, she had a terrible feeling of deja vu. She knew she had to let him do what he felt was right, and he was a capable soldier. Even if she had been able to nail down the sense of dread pulling at her at the time, Denny was military born-and-bred and asking him to walk away would have been to ask him to deny his true nature. Like uncounted military wives before, she kept her trepidations to herself, kissed him fondly, and wished him well. Under different circumstances, she'd have stayed to be at his side--she wasn't military, but she was a damn fine combat medic.
She resisted the urge to turn her future sight to his fate, instead trusting that he was trained and as ready for whatever faced him as any one could be. The galaxy had become a roiling stew of conflict, and there was no where to hide from the dangers.
"Beware the gift of prescience." An ancient Tarasin wisdom on the dangers of turning to the Force for comfort in the future. Yet visions would sometimes come unbidden as dreams. That was how she knew she would be pregnant almost immediately after her wedding day. Even now the tiny bundle of cells would be impossible to sense through the Force among the trillions of her own cells, but the visions had made the presence of new life sure knowledge; knowledge that the morning sickness had only reinforced with a vengeance.
Taking another slow deep breath to settle her stomach, Sara lifted herself up to the sink and splashed a handful of water over her face. The sound of the water flashed an image in her mind, hundreds of battle droids lifting out of the water or skimming across it, blaster bolts flying into the ranks of the waiting Republic Army and Wookie defenders.
Returning to the bed, Sara pulled the blankets back over her now chilled legs, continuing to try to piece together the images floating through her conscious mind. The dream had been a jumble of scenes of pitched combat, Denny in the middle of it. Though she worried for him in such a dangerous situation, she herself had been in combat more times than she cared to elaborate on. That wasn't what made her heart feel heavy.
Every time she tried to push the vision forward to see the outcome, she found it shrouded in darkness. Not just the dim light of the ever-changing flow of the future, but shrouded by the malevolence of the Dark side. Something terrible was about to happen, and she feared that Denny would be caught up in it. He was a survivor, and she did sense the greater threat was not directed at him, but the lack of clarity gnawed at her self-assurance.
Her heart told her he would be safe and would return to her, but she knew that the darkness would be close behind. At the moment though, she didn't give a frak about the war or the greater good or even the Wookies--she just longed for the simple comfort of her lover's arms around her, her back pressed against his chest, his breath in her hair.
They were both survivors, and it wouldn't do any good to indulge in self-pity or give into the urge to let the sadness overwhelm her. Looking over at the chrono, Sara decided that she'd try to get another hour of sleep before getting up and ready for her shift at Renna's. She made a mental note to check with the CAF if that loaner Delta Wing they offered her was still available. The Scoundrel was going to be bringing her beloved home eventually, but Ril might not have the patience to wait much longer without a starfighter at his disposal.
Sitting on the cool duracrete tile floor of the fresher, Sara closed her eyes and tried to calm the sensation of nausea rolling through her body. The Force gave those attuned to it and properly trained immense control over their own metabolism, but biology could not always be tamed or pushed aside. The powerful hormones coursing through her in response to the tiny life growing within had been playing havoc with her every morning this week, and today was no exception.
Having sprinted the four meters from the bed to the sink, she was trying to let the sensation pass without making it any worse by thinking too much about it. She instead concentrated on the sounds of her home: the low hum of a droid recharger, the whirring of air recycle fans, and the light dripping of water from humidity-reduction packs. What was pulling at her mind were the sounds she didn't hear, sounds she had grown accustomed to and their absence now felt like an aching wound.
Denny had been gone for a week, and she had been doing an admirable job of keeping the loneliness and longing at the edge of her thoughts. Today was harder though because of the dreams that had pulled her out of a deep restful sleep.
When her husband had decided to say behind on Kashyyyk to help the Republic Army in their battle with the Separatists droid invasion force, she had a terrible feeling of deja vu. She knew she had to let him do what he felt was right, and he was a capable soldier. Even if she had been able to nail down the sense of dread pulling at her at the time, Denny was military born-and-bred and asking him to walk away would have been to ask him to deny his true nature. Like uncounted military wives before, she kept her trepidations to herself, kissed him fondly, and wished him well. Under different circumstances, she'd have stayed to be at his side--she wasn't military, but she was a damn fine combat medic.
She resisted the urge to turn her future sight to his fate, instead trusting that he was trained and as ready for whatever faced him as any one could be. The galaxy had become a roiling stew of conflict, and there was no where to hide from the dangers.
"Beware the gift of prescience." An ancient Tarasin wisdom on the dangers of turning to the Force for comfort in the future. Yet visions would sometimes come unbidden as dreams. That was how she knew she would be pregnant almost immediately after her wedding day. Even now the tiny bundle of cells would be impossible to sense through the Force among the trillions of her own cells, but the visions had made the presence of new life sure knowledge; knowledge that the morning sickness had only reinforced with a vengeance.
Taking another slow deep breath to settle her stomach, Sara lifted herself up to the sink and splashed a handful of water over her face. The sound of the water flashed an image in her mind, hundreds of battle droids lifting out of the water or skimming across it, blaster bolts flying into the ranks of the waiting Republic Army and Wookie defenders.
Returning to the bed, Sara pulled the blankets back over her now chilled legs, continuing to try to piece together the images floating through her conscious mind. The dream had been a jumble of scenes of pitched combat, Denny in the middle of it. Though she worried for him in such a dangerous situation, she herself had been in combat more times than she cared to elaborate on. That wasn't what made her heart feel heavy.
Every time she tried to push the vision forward to see the outcome, she found it shrouded in darkness. Not just the dim light of the ever-changing flow of the future, but shrouded by the malevolence of the Dark side. Something terrible was about to happen, and she feared that Denny would be caught up in it. He was a survivor, and she did sense the greater threat was not directed at him, but the lack of clarity gnawed at her self-assurance.
Her heart told her he would be safe and would return to her, but she knew that the darkness would be close behind. At the moment though, she didn't give a frak about the war or the greater good or even the Wookies--she just longed for the simple comfort of her lover's arms around her, her back pressed against his chest, his breath in her hair.
They were both survivors, and it wouldn't do any good to indulge in self-pity or give into the urge to let the sadness overwhelm her. Looking over at the chrono, Sara decided that she'd try to get another hour of sleep before getting up and ready for her shift at Renna's. She made a mental note to check with the CAF if that loaner Delta Wing they offered her was still available. The Scoundrel was going to be bringing her beloved home eventually, but Ril might not have the patience to wait much longer without a starfighter at his disposal.
