General Eclipse sat in the Rogue Shadow's pilot's chair with its back tilted, one boot balanced against the pilot's console; the other crossed over at the ankle. Her eyes were closed, haggard face made all the more stark by the cockpit's blue light. She almost dozed.

Something beeped softly and persistently in the gloom of the Rogue Shadow's running lights.

Straightening with a groan and a crackle of protesting joints, General Eclipse blew out a sigh that fluttered the hair hanging down over her face, cracking open a bleary eye.

"You're late," she told to the tiny, holographic figure of Commodore Yat-de Viedas.

Age had taken its toll on the Rodian, too; his back was bent, his antennae drooped, and his skin almost wholly grey, but her familiar ally still had some fire in his large eyes. His antennae twitched.

"My apologies, General Eclipse." He didn't sound too contrite, Juno reflected. "A number of pressing matters required my attention. Regardless, I am here now, and I bring orders from the Rebel Alliance."

"Well?" Juno arches a brow at the hologram. "What's the target this time, Commodore? Which ship are we supporting?"

"There isn't one. That is to say, you are being reassigned, effective immediately. You are to take the Rogue Shadow and proceed through the nearest Vine. We need to find help -- and find it before the First Order recruits allies of their own."

She stared stone-faced at the hologram; drew in a breath to immediately protest, instead letting it go.

So this is how it's going to be, she mused silently. They're replacing me. I get sent off to train greenhorns, out of the way. And the ship...

"Very well." No sense fighting the inevitable. Pull yourself together, Eclipse. She cleared her throat, quietly. "I'll do it, but on one condition, Commodore."

"General?"

"The Rogue Shadow stays with me."

"Oh." His antennae flexed; his expression one of Mike surprise. "Certainly. She belongs to you, and best serves the Rebel cause in your capable hands."

"It's settled, then. Send me the coordinates to me, and I'll get started right away. But I will be back to select a target. I'm not going to sit idly by when this ship could be of use to the Rebel Alliance."

"We won't stop you," Viedas pointed out mildly. "Your purpose will be to seek out and recruit allies, but if you choose to work with them in joint operations... well. We must stop the First Order--"

"--Before they become the next Galactic Empire," Juno finished, tiredly. "Understood, Commodore. Force be with you. General Eclipse, out."

She terminated the feed with a practised gesture, sighing.

"I guess that's to be expected after that last debacle," she sighed to herself. "Damn Imperialists." Juno twisted in her chair. "Hey. PROXY. Have you got those coordinates yet?"

"Right here, General Eclipse." The ubiquitously polite droid tapped at the copilot's console. "May I inquire as to our first destination?"

"You may," she replied, distantly, already laying in coordinates and beginning the hyperspace calculations. One finger tapped distractedly against the side of the console as she thought. "First, I'm laying in a course to Kashyyyk. There's something I need to do before we leave..."

"Kashyyyk? Is that not where--?"

"Mm. It is. Now give me a few minutes; I've got to run through these hyperspace calculations. We're going to have a very busy time ahead of us..."

~~~~

No sooner does the Rogue Shadow touch down on a landing pad in Kashyyyk than General Eclipse is off, leaving the droid to watch the ship. She carries no more than a satchel with her, nodding curtly to what few Wookies she passes. They acknowledge her with respect and leave her to her journey. She is no stranger, here.

Her path is always the same, every year. Up the incline, around the bend; through the monstrous trees. Out beyond the villages lie the ruins of a small hut, twisted and broken among the trees.

It was here that his life began, though the notion had always felt detached to her. She had no connection to him, then. She hadn't even known of his existence.

This place is private, though. The ship is no place to vent her grief.

She climbs the shattered stairway, stooping to slip past hanging debris. Pausing just inside the threshold, she studies the floor, remembering which planks are safe and which are not. After so many years of indulging this ritual of hers, she could walk the path in her sleep. Timbers creak underfoot. None of them give way.

In the middle of the hut's single room she settles down cross-legged, slowly and achingly. She pulls the satchel onto her lap. Inside sloshes a bottle of Corellian whisky; she pulls the cork with her teeth and a dull thunk, head twisting to spit the cork aside.

Raising the bottle high, she pours a shotglass' worth into the ruined timber before her. It stains the wood and seeps into the cracks.

"To the legacy you created," she announces, ignoring the dull, familiar ache of loss. "To your peace, in the Force."

Juno takes a swig, grimacing at the burn of alcohol.

"May we all find our peace."

She leans back against a broken shelf with a crackle of protesting joints, watching the first glimmering of stars.

"Rebel Command wants me in the World Tree," she comments idly to the empty hut, swilling the bottle in slow circles. The contents slosh noisily. "To bring in help for the Rebel Alliance. We could put the First Order on their toes and have them on the run, really on the run, for the first time since we started hearing about them." Juno sighs. "Nitram was good enough to inform me that Rebel leadership thinks I'm losing my touch. That I take too many desperate risks. They think I need a good, focused mission to shake things up. A challenge." She gives a dry, sarcastic laugh. "As though living every day isn't a challenge. Still... we do need allies..."

Puffing out a tired sigh, she leans back against the broken shelf, watching the stars light up the gloom. "I guess there's time to puzzle out where to begin later." Taking another drink, she settles back as comfortably as she can, although that isn't much. Something splintery keeps trying to bore into the back of her shoulder.

Juno holds the bottle at arm's length, tipping out another shotglass' worth into the shattered timbers.

"To us, Galen."