Return of Asoka and Ezra

Astra tugged at the hem of her jacket as she strode down the Chimaera’s pristine corridors, the faint hum of the ship’s systems a constant backdrop. The summons to the meeting had come suddenly, leaving her little time to prepare. Though she tried to focus on the steady rhythm of her boots against the cool metal floor, her thoughts were a storm of apprehension.

Ezra Bridger.

She hadn’t seen him in weeks, not since he’d left the Chimaera with Thrawn’s blessing to pursue a mission deemed vital to their shared goals. When they first met, her heart had been full of fury—a younger Astra, raw with grief over her parents’ deaths, could barely look at him without her hands clenching into fists.

It had taken time—painful, grinding time—for her to understand the truth. Ezra had been defending his people, fighting for their survival, just as the Chiss fought for theirs. Even now, with forgiveness given, she couldn’t entirely shake the complicated knot of emotions he stirred within her. Ezra’s presence was a reminder of what she had lost—and how far she had come since.

And then there was Ahsoka Tano.

Ahsoka was more a name than a person to Astra. She had only seen her once, during a brief encounter aboard the Chimaera, and they had exchanged no words. Yet Ahsoka’s calm, measured presence had unsettled her. There was a stillness about the Jedi that felt ancient, far removed from Astra’s own restless energy. She wondered if Ahsoka would see her as an outsider—a human raised among the Chiss, trying too hard to belong.

Her steps faltered as she turned a corner. For a moment, the enormity of the upcoming meeting threatened to swallow her whole. Would Ezra and Ahsoka look at her and see someone inadequate? Or, worse, a liability to their goals?

She straightened, drawing on lessons Thrawn had drilled into her: focus, composure, and above all, control. He would expect no less of her now.

Sol, her ever-faithful droid companion, beeped softly beside her as if sensing her unease.

“Yeah, I know,” she murmured. “I’m overthinking again.”

Sol chirped an affirmative, and Astra let out a small, shaky laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.

The doors to the briefing room loomed ahead, the faint murmur of voices filtering through the seams. She paused, listening—Ezra’s voice, calm and steady, mingled with a deeper tone she didn’t recognize. Her heart tightened.

She smoothed her expression into calm neutrality, a mask she had learned to wear under Thrawn’s watchful eye. Whatever awaited her beyond those doors—be it Ezra’s steady gaze or Ahsoka’s piercing scrutiny—she would face it head-on.