Duty beyond death.

[mm33dd]

Fort Ramsay Medical Facilities

"What happened to him?"
"He was in a battle with the Commander. I’d say he was lucky—he was the only survivor."
"What about his companions?"
"One died on the way here aboard the Shipbreaker—a shard severed his femoral artery. The other… I’d say he was luckier. He didn’t have time to feel anything—his escape pod exploded along with the ship’s engines. He never saw it coming."
—Deep sigh— "Do you think he’ll make it?"
"I trust he will. He’ll need time and a prosthetic hand, but he’ll be fine. The bastard is as tough as the Pelican's hull panels."

---

Engulfed in total darkness, with no control over his body, lost in the abyss of death, unaware of what had happened, he could somehow hear the murmurs of the medical staff and the constant beeping of the machine keeping him alive. His last memory was the roar of an explosion on the way to his escape pod.

Within that absolute void, a deep anguish struck him as he realized the fate of his comrades—the ones who had fought by his side since the early days of the Republic’s battles. But his sorrow quickly turned to rage, and in an instant, a furious resolve consumed him. He swore to himself that he would rise again, no matter the cost. That he would avenge his fallen brothers. With his eyes shut in utter darkness, his brow furrowed, and a single tear, heavy with wrath, traced down his temple.

His belongings had been placed in a chest beside his stretcher, and among them, an oval-shaped silver medal stood out against the rest of the dimly lit room, resting inside a dark metal box atop a table cluttered with medical notes.

Far from being dead, his spirit now burned with unyielding fire. He had sworn death upon the Republic’s enemies and had etched his duty into his soul with searing resolve—no matter the cost, even if it meant his own existence.

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I'm the worst snub pilot ever.