Panting, Vhiran leaned back in his seat and stared at the hyperspace lines outside. It was over. The fight was over. They had survived, yet, somehow it didn’t seem right. Suddenly he recalled how they had escaped from Zaloriis. Not until now did he fully realize it. A great number of soldiers had been killed by his hand alone that day, soldiers that had been his allies only a few days before, soldiers who were living beings just like him… We had to help Nillanthir. And now, I had Bultar and Shamila to protect. I, I didn’t have a choice! Right?! Vhiran shut his eyes tight. “Aargh, damn it!” he hissed as he slammed his fists on the panel before him and buried his head in his hands.
“Master, are you alright?”
Vhiran turned his head to see Shamila had arrived back from the gunner turret. Droplets of sweat were running down her forehead. A soaked lock of hair hung down her face. In her eyes Vhiran could see the girl’s exhaustion from the battle, no matter how short it had been. But it didn’t seem to hinder her. What was nagging at her, Vhiran then saw clearly: a look of genuine worry. Worry for him. “I’m fine, Shamila.” He replied assuring. “No need to worry.” Shamila looked at him somewhat questioningly, apparently not fully convinced, but before she had a chance to ask on, her Master stood up and smiled at her. “We better get some rest. We’ll need it when we get to Kamino.” He smiled as he watched Shamila hesitantly get in her seat and close her eyes. It didn’t take long before she was fast asleep. Her silent form looked so innocent. There was no way he would let her be hurt. Even if that means… He shook his head firmly and shook off the thought. Rest now, worry later! He shortly but strictly said to himself in thought and followed Shamila’s lead, leaning back and closing his eyes.