Present time preparing to jump

Astra walked through the dimly lit passageway of the Chimaera, the faint hum of the starship’s engines vibrating through the walls. Fatigue weighed heavily on her, every step a reminder of how desperately her body craved rest. But there was no time for that. They had to make the jump to the next system, where they would rendezvous with Ahsoka and Ezra. Together, they would approach the Jedi conclave to propose an alliance with the Chiss Ascendancy. It was a monumental task—convincing the Jedi to allow their world to serve as a staging area for the coming conflict.

As Astra turned a corner, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Tiny sparkles danced at the edges of her vision, a telltale sign she was overextending herself. Her head throbbed, and she reached out, bracing her right hand against the cold, durasteel wall while her left hand pressed against her temple. She clenched her jaw, focusing on slow, deliberate breaths to stave off the spell.

At that moment, Dr. Varnic’ahri’nalor appeared at the far end of the corridor. The Chiss doctor paused, his crimson eyes narrowing in alarm as he took in her unsteady posture. His tall frame moved swiftly toward her, his usually composed demeanor tinged with visible concern.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said sharply, his voice firm but not unkind. “Spreading yourself too thin. You need rest.”

“I’m fine,” Astra snapped, her voice tight and strained as she straightened herself against the wall. “I’m not a child anymore.”

Dr. Varnic folded his arms, his expression darkening. “You can’t pilot the ship like this. You’re in no condition to navigate through hyperspace.”

“I’m a Skywalker,” she shot back, her tone laced with defiance. “I can and I will. You know the expectations placed on those like me.”

“For stars’ sake, Astra!” he exclaimed, exasperation cracking his professional veneer. “You shouldn’t even still have third sight. Most lose it before they reach your age. Do you realize how dangerous this is? You’re too valuable to the Ascendancy to risk yourself like this.”

Astra’s glare was icy, her sapphire eyes blazing with determination. “I’m fine, and I have a job to do,” she said curtly. She pushed off the wall and strode past him, her movements tense but purposeful as she headed toward the bridge.

Dr. Varnic watched her go, his jaw tightening in frustration. He had known Astra for years, and her stubborn streak had only grown stronger as she matured. She was fiercely independent, unwilling to admit when she needed help—even at her own expense.

He sighed, already making up his mind to report her condition to the admiral. If Astra wouldn’t advocate for her own well-being, someone else would have to. The Skywalkers were a rare and precious asset, and the fate of the mission—and perhaps the Ascendancy itself—rested on her ability to function at her best.

As he followed her toward the bridge, Varnic resolved to make the admiral see reason. Astra could be brilliant, but brilliance meant little if she drove herself into the ground before the mission was complete.