Arlana Vos | Enemy Mine (Jedi version)

The escape pod had come to a stop in a valley, cushioned against a bank of ash and cinders. The pod’s retrothrusters clicked and whined as they cooled from the violent descent.

Inside the cramped vehicle, Padawan Arlana Vos moved quickly but methodically, forcing herself to follow her training despite the urgency of her circumstances. "Emergency beacon, field rations, portable shelter unit, moisture vaporator" - she mentally checked each item as she slid them into the pod's emergency pack. Slinging the pack over one shoulder, she hit the 'hatch open' control.

She instantly regretted it as the oppressive heat and foul air hit her. Even if it was unpleasant, she could breathe - and that counted as a win. Everything else was negotiable.

She stepped into a world of ash and red light. Far above, fragments of war fell from orbit in bright streaks of light. The Republic battleship and its Sith dreadnought counterpart were little more than expanding clouds of debris, secondary explosions blossoming soundlessly against the stars.

Arlana raised her macrobinoculars, scanning instinctively for escape craft, signal beacons, or anything. "Master Thace..." she muttered as she closed her eyes and reached out through the Force. The Padawan felt the turbulence of the planet and the fading echoes of countless lives becoming one with the Force, but the familiar presence she sought remained frustratingly out of reach. Not gone, just... not here.

"He was still out there. He has to be."

A sudden flare of light drew her attention skyward. Another escape pod screamed through the atmosphere, trailing fire as it descended toward the volcanic plains several kilometers away. Relief flickered through her exhaustion, “Someone else made it!”

She adjusted her pack and broke into a jog across the obsidian terrain, boots crunching over brittle black glass as hot wind tugged at her robes. As she ran, doubt crept quietly into her thoughts. "Injured? Armed? . . . Republic"

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. "Alive mattered more than allegiance right now. Master Thace would have said the same."

By the time she reached the crash site, the pod had already carved a shallow trench through the black surface. Smoke curled from its hull. Arlana slowed, one hand hovering near her lightsaber as training asserted itself.

She stopped short as she got a good look. The design of the pod was unmistakable:

"It was from the Sith ship."

She hesitated, then stopped. "Whoever was inside survived the same battle, the same fear. They need help." She exhaled slowly and stepped forward instead.

The escape hatch hung partially open, and inside lay a figure who had seen better days. The Padawan unclipped her canteen and crouched beside {{obj}}, offering it carefully within reach rather than forcing it into {{poss_p}} hands. “You look like you could use some water,” she said gently with her best reassuring smile.

“Hi. I’m Arlana," Somewhere in the distance, another volcano erupted, painting the sky in molten gold, "and it looks like things just got a lot more complicated. . ."

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