Once she had stepped through the door again, it all seemed hazy. Lyla could feel her face dry up but her mind was bent out of shape, all purpose and clarity gone. She barely registered what was going on around her: The corpses, the blood, the shouts, shots, explosions... it was all toned down, reduced to a sickening normality you could just blank out of your perception. Enrik behind her obviously didn't feel the same way: She could sense him, just barely, and felt that he was on edge, attentive, trying his best to be brave.
And... what was that? Did she sense something, somebody else?
"Lyla!", she heard Enrik whisper. She turned, trying to focus but before she could even begin to bring her senses and mind under control again, she felt something hard hit the left side of her head, pain exploding in front of her eyes. She fell with a soft sigh, her body completely unresponsive. She heard voices over her, tried to move, tried to come out of it but it was just... too... difficult...
"Come on, Lyla. You can't keep sulking like that."
"Leave me alone, Mara."
"And what if I won't? I wanna be friends."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't have to. We're Jedi. We can care without knowing."
Somewhere, far, far away, she heard a lightsaber. Something else, a noise she had been hearing over and over, but it stopped. And then, very quietly: "Lyla?"
It was getting closer, louder: "Lyla, wake up..."
She opened her eyes. Where am I? Everything seemed to hurt and, once again, she felt the overwhelming urge to throw up. For a second, all she could see was flickering lights before her view focused on Enrik, leaning over her, a relieved smile on his face. She was lying on the ground. Slowly, ever so slowly, she remembered what had happened and her nausea didn't take kindly to that memory.
"Can you get up?"
Of course I can. She nodded and tried, she really did, but her arms felt weak when she sat up and her legs refused to carry her weight, but he was there to catch her, pulling her to her feet. She only just noticed something warm running down the side of her face and making her hair stick to her head. Am I bleeding?
"Come on, lean on me," he said, more commenting than offering. She couldn't have gotten up without his help.
Then she saw it: He held out her lightsaber, offering it to her. Where did I leave that? Then she saw them: The clones, lying dead in the hall. Did he protect me?
Lyla didn't think, she just took the offered item and put it on her belt, in place of her training saber. It all seemed so confusing, so difficult to focus on, but at least the haze from before was gone. Her eyes readjusted, she could hear again, think again.
Fighting down the nausea, Lyla managed to whisper "thank you" as they hobbled down the hall.
-----
They had already been close to the Archives, so it only took a few more minutes to reach one of the entrances. Luckily, they were not approaching from the main hall, where the entrances had been welded shut, but from another side. The clones they had run into probably had been waiting for reinforcements before attempting to force their way in. Or maybe they had been trying to block possible escape routes?
It was all the same. The doors they were coming through were wide open and the dark, dry air of the Archives had never been more inviting. As they walked, Lyla had felt some of her strength returning but when she tried to walk on her own, she almost lost her balance again, so even now, she leaned on Enrik. And there, not far from where they stood, she saw somebody - She couldn't quite make out who it was but they were wearing robes instead of armor, brown and tan instead of white and blue.
She wanted to call out but her stomach advised against it. And she didn't have to do that to get their attention: A bolt of blue flew past them, bright as a firework in the twilight of the room. Lyla barely managed to stay upright as they turned and got into cover - A few soldiers had apparently found their comrades and drawn one of two logical conclusions: That somebody was headed away from or toward the Archives. And this time, it was at least twelve of them, too many to fight.
Lyla frantically looked around for the door controls, only to notice that she was leaning against them, so she pushed a few buttons and it closed, blast doors and all. That was the easy part. But how could she keep them from just opening the doors again? She was somewhat focused again but trying to remember what she needed to do...
Enrik reached for her belt and grabbed the lightsaber.
"What...?", she began but he had already sunken it into the metal, fusing all layers of the door into one. Right. Of course. Lightsaber. The solution is always a lightsaber.
He seemed pleased with himself when he deactivated the weapon and handed it back to her. She couldn't help but give him a small, acknowledging nod.
"Quick thinking."
She leaned on him once more and together, they made their way over to the group of people who had already noticed their arrival. Most of the faces seemed vaguely familiar and especially the Catuman stood out, as there seemed to be few of them in the Order, compared to Twi'lek and Kel Dor, but Lyla recognized two: Master Worror, who, unlike her other teachers, never seemed to reprimand or lose his patience with her, and Seris, the Miraluka who practically seemed to live in the Archives.
Lyla wanted to say something, to break the eery silence. But all that came to her mind was the bitter realization:
"Master, I... I think Enrik and I are all that's left of Thantra Clan."
And... what was that? Did she sense something, somebody else?
"Lyla!", she heard Enrik whisper. She turned, trying to focus but before she could even begin to bring her senses and mind under control again, she felt something hard hit the left side of her head, pain exploding in front of her eyes. She fell with a soft sigh, her body completely unresponsive. She heard voices over her, tried to move, tried to come out of it but it was just... too... difficult...
"Come on, Lyla. You can't keep sulking like that."
"Leave me alone, Mara."
"And what if I won't? I wanna be friends."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't have to. We're Jedi. We can care without knowing."
Somewhere, far, far away, she heard a lightsaber. Something else, a noise she had been hearing over and over, but it stopped. And then, very quietly: "Lyla?"
It was getting closer, louder: "Lyla, wake up..."
She opened her eyes. Where am I? Everything seemed to hurt and, once again, she felt the overwhelming urge to throw up. For a second, all she could see was flickering lights before her view focused on Enrik, leaning over her, a relieved smile on his face. She was lying on the ground. Slowly, ever so slowly, she remembered what had happened and her nausea didn't take kindly to that memory.
"Can you get up?"
Of course I can. She nodded and tried, she really did, but her arms felt weak when she sat up and her legs refused to carry her weight, but he was there to catch her, pulling her to her feet. She only just noticed something warm running down the side of her face and making her hair stick to her head. Am I bleeding?
"Come on, lean on me," he said, more commenting than offering. She couldn't have gotten up without his help.
Then she saw it: He held out her lightsaber, offering it to her. Where did I leave that? Then she saw them: The clones, lying dead in the hall. Did he protect me?
Lyla didn't think, she just took the offered item and put it on her belt, in place of her training saber. It all seemed so confusing, so difficult to focus on, but at least the haze from before was gone. Her eyes readjusted, she could hear again, think again.
Fighting down the nausea, Lyla managed to whisper "thank you" as they hobbled down the hall.
-----
They had already been close to the Archives, so it only took a few more minutes to reach one of the entrances. Luckily, they were not approaching from the main hall, where the entrances had been welded shut, but from another side. The clones they had run into probably had been waiting for reinforcements before attempting to force their way in. Or maybe they had been trying to block possible escape routes?
It was all the same. The doors they were coming through were wide open and the dark, dry air of the Archives had never been more inviting. As they walked, Lyla had felt some of her strength returning but when she tried to walk on her own, she almost lost her balance again, so even now, she leaned on Enrik. And there, not far from where they stood, she saw somebody - She couldn't quite make out who it was but they were wearing robes instead of armor, brown and tan instead of white and blue.
She wanted to call out but her stomach advised against it. And she didn't have to do that to get their attention: A bolt of blue flew past them, bright as a firework in the twilight of the room. Lyla barely managed to stay upright as they turned and got into cover - A few soldiers had apparently found their comrades and drawn one of two logical conclusions: That somebody was headed away from or toward the Archives. And this time, it was at least twelve of them, too many to fight.
Lyla frantically looked around for the door controls, only to notice that she was leaning against them, so she pushed a few buttons and it closed, blast doors and all. That was the easy part. But how could she keep them from just opening the doors again? She was somewhat focused again but trying to remember what she needed to do...
Enrik reached for her belt and grabbed the lightsaber.
"What...?", she began but he had already sunken it into the metal, fusing all layers of the door into one. Right. Of course. Lightsaber. The solution is always a lightsaber.
He seemed pleased with himself when he deactivated the weapon and handed it back to her. She couldn't help but give him a small, acknowledging nod.
"Quick thinking."
She leaned on him once more and together, they made their way over to the group of people who had already noticed their arrival. Most of the faces seemed vaguely familiar and especially the Catuman stood out, as there seemed to be few of them in the Order, compared to Twi'lek and Kel Dor, but Lyla recognized two: Master Worror, who, unlike her other teachers, never seemed to reprimand or lose his patience with her, and Seris, the Miraluka who practically seemed to live in the Archives.
Lyla wanted to say something, to break the eery silence. But all that came to her mind was the bitter realization:
"Master, I... I think Enrik and I are all that's left of Thantra Clan."
