The shuttle had not even fully settled before Faelyra could hear the city screaming. Not one voice. Thousands. The sound came in layers as the rear ramp hissed open onto one of Chalacta’s elevated transit platforms—sirens wailing somewhere deeper in the district, the sharp crack of blasterfire echoing between polished towers, frightened civilians shouting over one another in several different languages while smoke rose in ugly black ribbons against what should have been a serene afternoon sky. Chalacta had always seemed so calm in every holo she had seen.
It did not look calm now. Faelyra stood frozen for half a heartbeat at the mouth of the shuttle, pale fingers tightening around the strap of her medsatchel until her knuckles nearly matched the white of her hair. Her blue skin felt cold despite the heat radiating off the city. Jedi moved around her in purposeful bursts—boots pounding down the ramp, robes snapping, voices issuing quick instructions—but to Faelyra it all arrived too quickly at once.
Fear. Pain. Confusion. She could feel it pressing through the Force like a storm front. Her throat tightened. This was not a temple corridor. Not a controlled lesson. Not a quiet infirmary with one patient at a time. This was a city breaking. She swallowed hard and stepped down anyway.
[color=#Green]"Stay with the civilians,"[/color] came one of the senior voices from somewhere to her left. [color=#Green]"Get people moving south. The municipal shelters are still intact if we can open a corridor."[/color]
Faelyra nodded immediately even if the Jedi speaking likely had not seen her do it. Yes, she could do that. Helping people was easier than fighting. Usually.
The platform opened onto a broad market avenue below, and the sight of it made her stomach drop. Merchant stalls had been overturned into burning debris. Decorative awnings fed little tongues of fire overhead. A public tram sat half derailed across an intersection while citizens fled around it in disorganized waves, some carrying children, some carrying whatever valuables they had managed to snatch before running, some carrying nothing but terror in their eyes. Farther down the boulevard, blaster bolts flashed red against white stone.
Faelyra inhaled sharply. Someone was crying nearby. No—several someones. Her gaze snapped right. A family had taken cover behind a collapsed fruit vendor’s cart, the father clutching his side where crimson soaked through his tunic while two young children screamed and their mother attempted to drag him upright.
Faelyra moved before she consciously decided to.
"I-I'm here!" she called, voice thinner than she wanted, though loud enough to cut through the panic as she hurried across the street.
"Please—please don't run, I'm here to help!"
A speeder roared overhead somewhere too low. She flinched instinctively but dropped to her knees beside the injured man. Blaster graze. Deep enough to bleed badly, not deep enough to kill if pressure was applied now.
Good. Good, she knew this. Her trembling hands became steadier the moment they had purpose. One palm pressed over the wound while the other reached into her satchel for sealant wraps and a bacta patch.
"It's alright," she murmured, not entirely certain whether she was speaking to the family or herself.
"It's alright, just breathe... please just breathe..."
The children stared at her wide-eyed. Smoke drifted across the avenue. More shouting. A detonation somewhere three streets over rattled transparisteel windows. Faelyra's heart hammered so violently she thought the civilians might hear it, but she forced her attention narrow—bandage, pressure, stabilize, assess. Around her the Force churned with fear and anger and urgency, yet beneath all of it there remained one painfully simple truth:
These people did not need a warrior first. They needed someone who stayed. So she stayed. Kneeling in ash and spilled market fruit, silver lightsaber still clipped uselessly at her hip for the moment, Faelyra lifted her eyes toward the avenue where fleeing civilians continued to pour through the smoke.
"Over here!" she called, louder this time despite the tremor. One hand rose, waving them toward her position and the partial shelter of the transit supports.
"This way! Jedi are here! We'll get you out!" Please let that be true. Because she was already reaching for the next injured stranger before the first was even secured.
Location: Jordir, Chalacta
Objective: Protect the citizens of Chalacta
Outfit: Jedi Travel Robes
Allies: Jedi Praxeum
Potential Enemies:
Irulan Al-Zahir
|
Rel Ahn-Dross
