A request for help

Dr. Varnic’ahri’nalor had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm under pressure, but navigating the unique challenges posed by Mith Astra was testing even his formidable patience. As the Chimaera’s chief medical officer, he was acutely aware of the strain she was under—not only as one of the few Skywalkers still actively serving the Ascendancy but also as a human navigating an entirely Chiss-dominated world.

Astra was exceptional, of that there was no doubt. Her abilities as a Skywalker had repeatedly proven indispensable to the Chimaera’s missions through the uncharted regions of space. Yet, Varnic couldn’t ignore the toll her role was taking on her. Her recent collapse, though not unprecedented for Skywalkers, had been a stark reminder of her humanity—a reminder she often seemed determined to forget.

Varnic had voiced his concerns repeatedly to Grand Admiral Thrawn. Though Thrawn listened carefully, his faith in Astra remained steadfast. “She is capable,” he had said more than once, his glowing red eyes betraying no doubt. “She will learn.” But Varnic wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t Astra’s talent he doubted; it was her relentless drive to meet impossible expectations—both her own and those imposed by the Ascendancy.

Skywalkers like Astra were rare, their Force-sensitive third sight a gift few possessed. Of those, even fewer maintained the ability beyond childhood. Varnic knew of only one other navigator who had continued her service into adulthood: Vah’nya, a Chiss woman who had earned respect not only for her longevity but for her precision and discipline.

But Astra was different. There was a fundamental, biological divergence that set her apart: she was human. Unlike Chiss Skywalkers, who eventually lost their third sight as they aged, Astra’s ability would persist throughout her lifetime. In theory, she could serve as a navigator well into old age—a potential that made her invaluable to the Ascendancy.

Yet that potential was also Astra’s greatest vulnerability. Her human tenacity and need to prove herself often clashed with the measured, disciplined approach favored by the Chiss. She was impulsive, reckless even, and prone to pushing herself beyond safe limits. It was a dangerous combination. If she didn’t learn balance, Varnic feared, her body—or her mind—would eventually give out.

Her most recent collapse was a perfect example. She had ignored the warning signs of exhaustion, pushing herself through jump after jump without rest. When the strain finally overtook her, the entire bridge had been thrown into chaos, and Varnic had spent hours stabilizing her. As she lay unconscious in the medbay, pale and fragile, he had made a decision: he would seek help from the Chiss Skywalker Corps.

The Corps, which trained and oversaw Force-sensitive navigators, maintained a network of caregivers and mentors to support their Skywalkers’ mental and physical well-being. These individuals were usually reserved for young Skywalkers just beginning their training, but Varnic believed Astra’s circumstances warranted an exception. She was no ordinary Skywalker; she was a human trying to navigate a world—and a role—designed for Chiss. She needed guidance, someone to help her find balance before her relentless drive burned her out entirely.

Varnic composed his request with care, explaining Astra’s unique situation and his growing concerns. He stressed her importance to the Ascendancy, not just for her abilities but for her potential as the only Skywalker who could serve for decades. He also emphasized the dangers of her current trajectory—her impulsiveness, her lack of self-care, and her tendency to prioritize duty over health.

As he transmitted the message, Varnic leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. Astra’s potential was extraordinary, but potential meant nothing if it came at the cost of her well-being. He could only hope the Skywalker Corps would agree—and that whoever they sent would be able to reach her in a way he and Thrawn could not.