Bloodlines
The dive was one that was just like any other Ridge had been to. Dimly lit, noisy, crowded, with music that grated on his nerves wailing in the background. The person who had contacted him was nowhere to be seen. He continued on to one of the alcoves that afforded privacy for patrons, beings darting out of his way. The stormtrooper commander armor demanded respect, and a certain amount of fear. There was a silhouette of a figure sitting in one of the alcoves, dressed in dirt-colored, loose garb. Ridge pulled back the curtain to get a look at them, his helmet tilting down.
The figure looked back up at him with a cyclopean gaze, one of her eyes covered by an eyepatch. She had dark skin and curly hair with a few strands of grey showing in it, most of the mass tied back into a messy bun that hung low on her neck. There was a child sitting in her lap, mostly hidden by the folds of a large jacket that seemed to be more appropriately sized for an adult. Ridge’s lips thinned as he regarded the unexpected addition.
“Are you General Mareen?” he asked tersely.
The woman gave him a curt nod but didn’t make any motion to invite him to sit down.
“Not that I don’t trust you, but I would like to make sure you are who you say you are,” she replied, motioning at her head to indicate she wanted him to remove the helmet. “Joduz told me enough about you so that I’ll know how to spot you in a crowd, even one that looks exactly like you.”
Ridge remained motionless while he continued to stare back at her from the anonymous safety of the rig on his head. His hands came up to remove the helmet, showing narrowed eyes and close-cropped hair starting to show flecks of grey at the temples. The blue tattoo over the left side of his face seemed to satisfy General Mareen as her posture grew less tense. She gestured for him to sit down, and Ridge did so, sliding in the booth in front of her. He folded his gloved hands on the table, flicking his eyes at the child in her lap before meeting her one-eyed gaze again, silently asking what the haran she was doing bringing a kid to a meeting like this.
General Mareen regarded him steadily.
“Joduz left me with something before she returned to take control of your legion,” she said.
Ridge didn’t need for her to drop any more hints as his eyes slowly moved towards the child all bundled up as though she were about to take an excursion into the arctic. He had given her up as dead when Order 66 was initiated. Onderon was under heavy Separatist fire, and it wasn’t exactly the safest place for a child, much less a Force Sensitive one, to be during a war. He caught the subtle hints of dull orange skin in the shadows of the folds of the jacket. He had purged his personal datapad of anything having to do with Sadheis and the child following the announcement that the Republic was being formed into a Galactic Empire, and that all Jedi and those conspiring with them were deemed enemies of the State. She wasn’t around anymore to warrant the saved comm transmissions or holophotos, and it would only get him into trouble with the higher ups if they found out about his relationship with a former Jedi.
General Mareen tugged the jacket partially away so that the child could be clearly seen. A pair of golden eyes very much like her mother’s gazed back at Ridge. There was a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and two dark circles on her brow, indicators where the vestigial horns of her species from her mother’s side would have been. She had enough differences though for him to see parts of himself in her, from the build of her nose to the shape of her face. Ridge was never one for being caught off guard, but he was now as he could do nothing but stare back.
The girl squirmed to get closer, and Mareen obliged, shifting around the semi-circle of the booth. A small hand touched at Ridge’s jawline as he found his attention transfixed by the little life that he and Sadheis had created just three years ago.
She looked enough like her mother to remind him of when she had done the same thing, cupping his face and letting him know that he wasn’t some organic droid or property of the Republic when she felt that he was feeling low about his lot in life. The image of her body punctured with golden blaster holes leapt up into his vision, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth together. Spice had helped to dull that ache, but it was never enough in the long run. He still woke up in a cold sweat at times when his memory decided to be cruel and replay the events surrounding Order 66 in his subconscious.
Ridge drew away from his daughter, blinking rapidly and taking in an unsteady breath. She made a noise of dissent, a small whimper that felt like a jab of hot shrapnel at his chest. Ridge gathered up his helmet and started scooting out of the booth.
“I’m sorry. I can’t take her,” he said quickly, struggling to keep his voice even while avoiding meeting Mareen’s gaze. “I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea but it wasn’t. I work out of an Imperial barracks. It’s no place for a child.”
He was out of the booth and ready to stride off into the crowd, no matter what protests the General made, when there was a sharp squeal and tension around his leg. Ridge immediately looked down to see the girl clinging to him. She had her face ducked as her grip tightened around the armor. This had happened before, back in the Clone Wars when grateful children he had discreetly gifted supplies to came running up to try to express their gratitude by clinging to whatever limbs they could reach.
This was different though. The child holding onto him wasn’t just a nameless face on a war torn planet. She was his own flesh and blood. No matter how much he wanted to argue with himself that he couldn’t very well bring her back with him, that she would be a constant reminder of his biggest regret, that she was by all means defying the Empire by merely existing, he found himself bending down to scoop her up in his arms and hold her tightly to himself. The girl’s small arms tried to wrap around his neck but couldn’t even reach halfway as she buried her head under his chin. Ridge screwed his eyes shut again as he pressed his forehead against the top of his child’s head.
He had told Sadheis that he had wanted to keep her back when she had first told him she was having their child. There had been no hesitation then, when things seemed relatively easy and black and white. He had thought just a few moments ago he would have been just fine with letting his daughter be raised by someone else. It had been a pretense. If looking after her was going to be his main priority, then that meant he was going to have to turn his back on the only life he ever knew. Not surprisingly, Ridge was fine with that. There were far better things to do with his existence than be a perfect soldier for a regime that forced him to kill the woman he loved.