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chapter six: a terrible shot
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"WOW," KALI OBSERVES from Indira's side as she misses the target with her blaster once more. The two girls squint at the circular target from a distance. Scorch marks litter the surface, but not a single one has struck anywhere remotely close to the center. "You really are terrible at this. Seriously, Indi, your aim is about as good as a stormtrooper's."

Indira lowers her blaster and gives her friend a scathing look. "Your support is overwhelming, Kali," she replies. "Truly, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Kali smirks. "That's what I'm here for."

It is her fourth day of training and Indira Beren is starting to think that she is something of a hopeless case. Her hand-to-hand combat skills are pitiful, her shooting is atrocious — part of her wonders if General Organa was mistaken in saying that her mother had been some sort of hotshot-gun-toting assassin, because whatever gunslinging genes her mother had seem to have skipped over Indira entirely — unless her father had been the terrible shot as well.

"Indi, you just need to relax," Kali says firmly. "The more worked up you get, the worse your aim will be. Now, just," she pauses to demonstrate inhaling deeply before exhaling, "breathe like this."

Indira mimics Kali's breathing pattern, slowly inhaling and exhaling until she feels a little less on edge.

"Now," Kali continues, "you have to find your center."

She frowns. "Find my what?"

"Your center," Kali repeats. "Your spirit. You need to find something to ground yourself to; something to keep yourself tethered. Become present in your surroundings and observe them."

Indira looks at her dubiously, but does her best to follow her instructions. "Okay," she mutters, squinting slightly as she tries to think of something to tether herself to.

She closes her eyes for a moment, letting her mind drift. Immediately, she's aware of the simple things; the coolness of the blaster in her hand, the way her toes press against the ends of her boots, the stray curl of hair that has escaped her ponytail and is tickling the back of her neck. But, as she focuses on her breathing, she swears that she almost feels something else. It's something she can't explain; an energy of sorts. Before she can think to press forward against it, she pulls back immediately. When her eyes open once more, she looks at Kali with surprise.

"Try again," Kali tells her.

Indira raises the blaster once more, eyes narrowing as she focuses on the weapon in her hands. Everything seems to go quiet around her, fading into the background, until it is only her, her weapon, and the target before her. Without hesitation, her finger pulls the trigger and she exhales deeply as she watches her shot hit the target on the bullseye.

Immediately, Indira lowers the blaster with a surprised expression, eyes wide with disbelief. She turns to look at Kali, who is wearing an identical expression of incredulity. For a moment, her necklace flares with a surge of heat before going cold.

"How did you do that?" Her friend demands.

Indira's brow furrows. "I just did what you told me to," she frowns. "Found my center or whatever."

"Yes, but that was just some bullshit I made up to keep you from freaking out on me," Kali replies with an impatient wave of her hand. "That was a perfect shot, Indi."

Indira's eyes widen. "You just made all that up?!"

"That's not important," Kali says dismissively. "What matters is that you can shoot. I mean, you definitely need a lot more practice, but ... you can shoot!"

Narrowing her gaze at her friend, Indira sets the blaster down. "You're a piece of work, you know that?" She tells Kali, but there's no real ire behind her words. "Maybe the real reason my training has gone so terribly is because they put you in charge of it."

Kali shrugs; completely unbothered. "You might be right," she says, "but, until Black Squadron returns from their latest mission, I'm the best person around able to train you."

Indira scoffs. "The best person, huh? You mean to tell me that there's nobody else on this base filled with hundreds of people that is qualified to teach me how to throw a punch or shoot a gun?"

"Nope," Kali says. "I'm the only one."

For a moment, Indira can't tell if her friend is joking or not, until a grin spreads its way across Kali's face and she bursts into laughter. The younger girl rolls her eyes and bumps Kali with her shoulder. "Stop making fun of me," she complains.

Kali bumps her back with a hip before slinging an arm around her shoulders, steering her away from the shooting range. "I'm sorry," she admits. "I promise I'll lighten up. But seriously, Indi," Kali pauses, brow furrowing with concern. "What's gotten into you? You're different since I left."

Indira exhales, blowing a piece of stray hair from her face. "No, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry." She frowns and looks down at her feet. "I've just been ... a little overwhelmed with everything. I feel like I can't do anything right lately."

"That's definitely not true," Kali interjects. "You did great job with technical training. Some of our best technicians were impressed — Jess told me that Oddy Muva said you were a natural!"

"Well, I did go to school for four years for something," Indira replies, though her brain mentally corrects her to three-and-a-half years — and you didn't even finish!

"Alright, that's true," Kali concedes. "But I went to the exact same school as you and I never would have been able to learn how to do half the things you know how to do. For Kriff's sake, Indira, I watched you thread entire cables of power couplings by hand. Your fingers were raw for weeks after that, but you didn't let it stop you."

Indira groans. "Don't remind me," she says, pulling a face. "Gods, that was terrible."

"Terrible and difficult, but you did it all on your own," Kali counters, squeezing her shoulder lightly. "So what if you're not a pilot or a gunslinger? You're a damn good technician, Indi. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

Indira makes a noise to respond, but is cut off by the sound of an alarm going up around the base. For a moment, she freezes, thinking that there's some sort of attack about to begin, but she quickly distinguishes the sound as the alarm that accompanies returning ships to the base. In her first day tour, C-3PO had made sure to teach Indira the differences between the various alarms on base. It had taken her time to get used to the loud noises during her first few days, but she was gradually starting to get acclimated to them.

Kali's face lights up. "They're back!" She says excitedly, removing her arm from Indira's shoulder and taking off down the hallway.

"Who's back?" Indira asks curiously as her friend disappears around the corner. "Kali?"

She hurries after her friend, following her down a series of twisting hallways until they arrive at the ship bay. A squadron of X-wings are just entering the hangar and Indira watches as they land inside the base, one by one. Other Resistance members have gathered round to watch the pilots' arrival. Slowly, the pilots of Black Squadron begin to exit their ships, chattering loudly with their friends. From a distance, Indira can see Kali run out to Jessika and embrace her tightly. The two girls hold one another close for a moment before breaking apart quickly.

Her eyes scan the room as she watches the other pilots, gaze settling on the first ship in the hangar. Poe Dameron is the last pilot to leave his X-wing, hopping out of the T-70 model before waiting for his BB unit to exit as well. A troubled expression is on his face as he begins walking, hardly sparing a moment to speak with anyone. He brushes past the crowd of people with purpose, pushing past Indira as if she doesn't even exist. BB-8 follows behind him dutifully, rolling along at a rapid pace to keep up with his master, and Indira can't help but wonder where, exactly, the two of them are off to in such a hurry. She has little time to think on this before Kali and Jessika approach her, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

"I'm serious," Jessika says. "This mission was insane. Most of it's classified, but holy sith you would not believe some of things we saw!"

"Well, as soon as you learn what isn't classified, you'll have to tell us all about it," Kali laughs. "But first, food."

"Right on," Jessika agrees before spotting Indira. "Indi, hey!"

Indira waves at her. "Hey, Jess," she says. "Nice to see you alive and well. Mission was a success?"

Jessika's brow furrows. "Of a sort," she replies vaguely.

"Your commander didn't look too thrilled when I saw him leaving," Indira notes. "He was in a pretty big hurry."

Jess rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but that's just Poe," she says. "He probably went straight for the General to debrief." Her face takes on a mischievous expression. "Now," she says, "who wants to go eat lunch from my stash instead of that shit they feed us in the mess hall?"

"Oh, I am so on it," Kali replies excitedly, rubbing her hands together. The three of them burst into laughter before exiting the hangar, leaving all thoughts of Commander Poe Dameron and his droid behind.

JESSIKA'S FOOD STASH consists of snack related sustenance that has been hidden around her quarters — inside her sock drawer, beneath her mattress, and so on — but none of it seems particularly substantive. In fact, most of it looks like sodium-filled junk food that will ultimately result in clogged arteries, but it tastes damn good, so Indira can't complain.

"This stuff is so good," she says for probably the fifth time over the steaming cup of broth and noodles in her hand. "I practically lived off of it at the academy, but I think I get it now."

Kali rolls her eyes and turns to Jessika. "I had to beg her to try it when we first started school at the academy, but it took ages for her to finally listen to me." She looks at Indira pointedly. "See? You should always listen to me."

"Don't always listen to her," Jessika interjects. "She's a terrible influence."

The two of them begin bickering immediately after that, arguing back and forth about who is the worst influence between the two of them. "You flew your ship around the base with a blindfold on just because Snap said that you wouldn't!" and then, "Oh my gods, would you please let that go it was one time!" And eventually the fighting resolves into a fit of giggles until Indira's sides hurt and her cheeks ache. Eventually, though, she decides to take her leave and allow her friends some privacy after spending days apart.

"Thanks for the soup, Jess," she says. "But I think I'm gonna go ... read? There's this book I didn't have the chance to finish at the academy about the atomic arrangement of crystals and I'm really itching to see how it ... ends."

Kali makes a face. "Ew, science," she says and Indira scowls.

"Science is what keeps the galaxy in order," she replies indignantly. "It is the very foundation of our beings; the single thread that ties all of us together —"

"Kriff, if I wanted a lecture, I would have stayed in school," Kali groans. "Alright, alright — you win. Science rules!"

"Damn straight it does," Indira finishes, satisfied.

"Feel free to stop by whenever you're sick of eating cafeteria food!" Jess tells her with a small smile and wave.

"I definitely will take you up on that offer sometime," Indira agrees, tossing her trash into the bin. "I'll see you guys later."

"Later!" They respond in unison before Indira steps into the hallway and leaves the room, hearing the doors close behind her.

Not feeling entirely confident in her ability to not get lost, Indira makes her way down the hallway slowly. In her head, she attempts to visualize the map of the base that she had done her best to commit to memory over the past few days. She thinks she's heading in the right direction towards her quarters, turning down different hallways, but ultimately finds herself outside of the hangar once more instead.

With a frown, she sets her hands on her hips. "Seriously?" She mutters under her breath, realizing that it was likely a mistake to leave EV-1 behind today.

Still, Indira at least knows where she is now and she definitely knows how to get to her room from the hangar, so she's quick to turn in that direction. But, before she can take another step, she's stopped by a male voice.

"Hey, wait up!"

Indira spins around to find Poe Dameron standing in the doorway of the hangar. His hair is sweaty, sticking to his head at odd angles. A white t-shirt covered in grease stains adorns his torso, while the sleeves of his orange jumpsuit have been tied around his waist. Above his eyebrow is a small cut that has been left uncleaned, surrounded by a smear of dried blood, that Indira knows is just begging to get infected. His bottom lip is split as well and a dark purple bruise is blooming on one of his cheekbones.

"You," she says without pretense, "look like shit."

Dameron blinks at her a few times before giving her a wry smile. "Well, I've had a rough couple of days."

"It would seem so," Indira agrees, narrowing her gaze at him. "Did you need something?"

"No," the commander replies, brow furrowing with confusion. "Why?"

"Nothing," Indira answers. "It just means that we're done here."

His eyes widen as she spins on her heel to return to her room. "Wait!" Poe says quickly, grabbing her wrist. Indira turns to look at him with one eyebrow raised, gaze flitting from his hand to his face and he immediately removes it. "Sorry. I, uh, forgot. I actually did need something."

She looks at him skeptically. "Really?"

Dameron nods earnestly. "Yeah," he says, rubbing the back of his head. "BB-8 took a beating on the mission. Nothing serious, but I definitely think you should check and make sure that everything's okay. You know, since you're a technician and you're good at that sort of stuff."

Indira frowns. "Is BB-8 okay?"

"Oh, yeah," the pilot tells her, walking backwards into the empty hangar. "Yeah, totally. Just a little worse for wear."

"Don't you have a technician already?" Indira asks as she follows him towards his ship. Her voice echoes throughout the otherwise silent room.

"Who, Oddy?" Dameron asks, looking back at her as he ducks under the wing of his ship. "Oddy's busy. I came to you."

Indira is pretty sure that she saw Oddy Muva in the hallway just a few minutes ago, looking distinctly not busy, but she doesn't say this. Instead, she just follows the pilot into his workspace. A blanket covered in spare tools has been sprawled out across the floor, along with a black duffle bag that's been carelessly thrown to the ground. Beside it, BB-8 is resting in low-power mode, but when Indira and the commander approach the astromech droid lights up and begins beeping enthusiastically.

"Hey, buddy," Indira smiles, crouching down at its side. "How are you? Your pal here told me that you took a bit of a beating on your mission. You doing okay?"

BB-8 lets out a confused noise. Its eye flickers over to its master, glancing at him quickly, before looking back at Indira and nodding enthusiastically. Indira's brow furrows at the exchange before she looks back at Dameron, who is wearing the most innocent of expressions.

"Huh," she says slowly, rising to her feet as she surveys the droid's unharmed appearance. "Because I don't see much damage on you. You look alright to me."

"Antenna," Dameron mutters, pointing to the dome shaped top of the droid's head. "The antenna — it's, uh, bent."

Indira shoots him a look. "You couldn't fix that yourself?"

"Alright, alright," he admits, raising his hands in surrender. "Look, I just wanted to talk to you."

"We did talk," she replies. "In the hallway. Two minutes ago."

"Yeah, for like thirty seconds," he argues before sighing and rubbing his forehead. "Look, I just wanted to apologize. I think we got off to a bad start the other day ago. I overstepped and I'm sorry."

She blinks at him a few times in surprise. That definitely hadn't been what she'd thought he would say. "You're forgiven," she says reflexively before explaining herself. "I just don't ... I really do not like talking about my family — not my mother and especially not my father."

"I understand," Dameron replies, ruffling his hair abashedly. "I guess I was just excited to meet you, but I got a bit carried away. I shouldn't have pried."

Indira shoots him half a smile before crouching down once more. She straightens out BB-8's antenna, making sure that it's no longer bent, and stands once more. "That better?"

The droid gently nudges Indira's leg in an odd display of affection and she pats the top of its head absentmindedly before looking back at Dameron. "I appreciate your honesty," she says, "but next time just tell me if you want to talk to me."

"It won't happen again," he promises, grinning slightly before wincing at the split in his lip.

Squinting, Indira takes a closer look at his haphazard appearance. "That looks pretty painful," she observes. "You been to medical yet?"

"Nah," he says, shaking his head. "Doc has bigger problems to worry about than me and I've had a lot worse than this. I'll be fine."

"Or you'll be infected," she replies skeptically. "You should at least have someone clean that cut up."

"Really, it's not a big deal," he brushes her off, crossing his arms over his chest.

Indira frowns, glancing back at BB-8. "Does he do this often?" She asks the droid, who nods its head fervently.

"Buddy," Dameron gapes at the BB unit. "I thought we were friends." BB-8 lets out a few beeps in response and his master scowls. "Traitor."

"You, sit," Indira orders the commander, ignoring his dramatic antics. He protests loudly before she drags him by the wrist over to the blanket on the floor and he begrudgingly takes a seat. "Is there a first aid kit around here?" She asks BB-8, who informs her that there's one in the duffle bag on the floor.

Indira rummages around in it for a few moments, digging around until she finds the kit and lifts it out of the bag triumphantly. When she turns back around, Dameron is sitting with his legs and arms crossed, leaning up against the hull of his ship and sulking.

"I told you that I'm fine," he says petulantly as she takes a seat on the ground beside him, searching for some sort of antiseptic in the kit. "This whole thing has gotten blown out of proportion. In fact, I really don't think that any of this is necessary —"

Indira momentarily pauses. "Do you ever stop talking?" She demands, glaring up at him.

Dameron swallows. "I mean, yeah," he says. "Yeah, sometimes."

She huffs slightly before continuing her search. Soon, she finds a thin package containing an antiseptic wipe inside of it. Tearing the wrapper open with her teeth, she takes the wipe out and moves towards him, but he immediately leans back.

"Stop moving!"

"Then don't put that thing on my face," he retorts.

He tilts his head back so that their faces are only a mere few inches apart. Indira hadn't realized just how close they'd gotten to one another, but it is abundantly clear to her now. She can feel the warmth of his breath against her cheeks, see every different shade of brown in his eyes, smell the distinct scent of whatever soap he'd last used.

He really is pretty, she thinks to herself. Unfairly so.

It's honestly not fair and Indira wants to file a complaint somewhere. Like really, who gave him the right to be so good-looking and — kriff, she needs to stop thinking like that.

Swallowing hard, she leans back and clears her throat. "Are you always this big of a baby when you get hurt?"

"No," he scoffs just as BB-8 chimes with a loud yes. He shoots the droid an incredulous look. "Traitor!"

Indira snaps her fingers in his face. "Look, the sooner you let me do this, the sooner I'll leave you alone, alright?"

He gives her a lazy, mischievous sort of grin. "Is that supposed to convince me to cooperate or something?"

She resists the urge to let her eyes roll back into her skull. "Fine. If you won't let me help, then I'm going to leave," she says, making a move to stand up.

"No, no, no," he says quickly, grabbing her wrist once more. "Stay. Please. I'll behave."

Indira gives him a dubious look.

"I promise," he adds, widening his eyes to paint the perfect picture of innocence.

Warily, she sits back down and reaches for his face once more, pushing some of the hair off his forehead so she can take a better look at the cut above his eyebrow. She definitely does not take note of how soft his hair is when she does this.

"This might sting a little," she warns him.

"I can take it," he replies cockily before wincing immediately as she brushes the cloth over the wound.

He manages to hold relatively still as she cleans away the blood and hardly complains before she covers the cut with a bandage. The wound looked much worse than it had been in actuality, but even the smallest of incisions could lead to infection — which is why she cleaned it for him. At least, that's what Indira tells herself, because there's absolutely no other motive she could have had for helping him.

"Thanks for bandaging me all up," Dameron says once she's finished. Indira sits back on her heels to examine her handiwork. "You could give Doc Kalonia a run for her money with hands that steady."

Indira shoots him a wry grin as she cleans up the medical supplies, wiggling her fingers slightly. "Technician, remember?"

She turns away, standing as quickly as she can before wiping her hands on the fabric of her pants. "And don't thank me. It was a matter of public health and safety. I couldn't let the commander of Black Squadron die of an infected wound. What would people think of me?"

"Yeah, okay," he replies with a smirk, sounding entirely unconvinced.

Indira glares at him. "I mean it."

"And I believe you," he says smugly, crossing his arms behind his head before leaning back in a manner that is far too pleased with himself.

"Uh huh," she replies skeptically, folding her arms across her chest once more. "I'm leaving now."

"Then I guess I'll see you around," he says with a grin.

She scoffs, turning on her heel without looking back. "You should be so lucky."

a/n: yes the girls were, in fact, eating cup-of-noodle ramen in this chapter bc i am a hoe for the college student aesthetic™️

EDITED ON:
08.09.19