Within the medical wing, Diǎnrán haunts the corridor leading to the medical bay, her fists clenching and unclenching over and over.
Casting her senses out once again, she felt her chest seize as several force signatures presented themselves.
Clones, unique in the Force, each one different but with underlying similarity like blasters that were personally modified from their factory-standard selves.
The clones were moving quickly through the station with another two near the hanger, but there was a discrepancy with the two separate clones.
She submerged herself even deeper in the Force and, ah, there was a shielded Force user in the hanger with the two clones.
A Padawan, she thought to herself. One too focused on making themselves unseen that they instead made themselves into a blank spot in the Force.
She raised a hand to open the door controls to the med bay only to find her lightsaber trembling in a white-knuckled grip. Taking a steadying breath she replaced it back onto her belt and opened the door.
Inside, Dune was sitting on a table with his back to the wall, his chest bare with bacta-patches dotting his skin, ruined pieces of beskar'gam littering the floor around him. He had his blaster disassembled and was mechanically cleaning each part, his modified slug pistol sitting next to his thigh, easily within reach.
In another corner, Dr. Natasi fiddled with a panel connected to a series of wires to a tank of bacta.
"Doctor," she called out, "it seems those friends of yours you mentioned have docked."
Finally unable to ignore the elephant in the room anymore, she strode over to the bacta tank; her eyes flickering to how Dune had started reassembling his blaster at the mention of new arrivals.
Placing her hand on the cold glass, she sighed.
She felt for her Padawan's presence, muted with unconsciousness and weak from her injuries, but stable within the tank of bacta.
Drawing in a fortifying breath, taking comfort in the Force signature in front of her, diminished as it was, and in the signature achingly far away, weak and distant but still alive.
"Shall we greet our new arrivals?"