Embedded
Journalism in wartime was a strange thing. On paper, it was always about truth - bringing clarity to confusion, giving a voice to the voiceless. Hell, she hated that term, voiceless. Everyone had a voice; it was just that some weren’t being heard. Her job wasn’t to give them a voice - that would be presumptuous, intrusive even. Her job was to amplify what they were already saying, leveraging the truths they were desperate for someone to hear. But in practice, it often felt like a compromise. Between access and independence, between reporting the facts and navigating the agendas of the powerful. Tavi knew the game well enough; the Republic needed stories to bolster morale, to frame its war effort as just, heroic. And journalists? They needed the Republic’s permission to get close enough to see anything at all. And if they’re lucky, to publish the article with minimum Senate-approved cosmetics.
The war room of the 104th Battalion at the Republic Military Base was, unsurprisingly, dusty. Tavi had read through the infopack Chiko sent her the day before: the 104th specialised in search and rescue missions, spec ops, negotiations, peacekeeping, and commando raids. It also mentioned they’d lost a significant number of their men during the Battle of Abregado. She’d been in a few war rooms before - GAR bases in the Mid and Outer Rim - but never one as massive as this. Once, she’d attended a press conference about the Zillo Beast, held in one of the Coruscant Guard’s war rooms. That had felt oddly comfortable, probably because it looked lived in by the Corries. This one was different.
Almost twenty minutes had passed since she arrived, seated beside Chiko, who was busy flipping through her datapad. Every now and then, Chiko would glance at Tavi, as if measuring how much of this felt familiar to her.
“They always do this,” Chiko muttered, breaking the silence.
“Late?” Tavi resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Chiko chuckled quietly. “Well, no one prioritises the Comms Bureau. But also, Wolfpack doesn’t get a lot of journalists. Most of them are from the Republic Press Corps. You know the type - ready-made pieces for the Republic’s site on the holonet. Independents like you?” She paused, scrolling through another page on her datapad. “Haven’t had one embedded in a while.”
“No kidding,” Tavi mirrored her chuckle. “Been there, done that. Worked in comms briefly for the Core Development Programme.”
Chiko raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Ah, you should’ve started with that the other day. I actually handled their—”
The hissing of the door cut her off.
A clone trooper with a cybernetic eye stepped into the room, followed by two others, neither of whom were wearing helmets. Chiko instinctively set her datapad down, and brushed her hands against her trousers. “Commander Wolffe,” she extended a hand towards the trooper with the cybernetic eye. “Sergeant Sinker, Corporal Comet. Good to see you again.”
“Chiko.” He shook Chiko’s hand firmly before looking at Tavi from head-to-toe. She’d grown used to this behaviour from soldiers - the sizing up, the scepticism. If she had a credit for every time one of them questioned her presence, her wealthy parents might finally be proud of her for doing something “lucrative” with her degrees. But then, if she cared about that, she wouldn’t be sitting here.
“Tavi Drezz. Independent journalist.” She extended her hand, offering him the same professional courtesy Chiko had demonstrated earlier. Wolffe didn’t take it right away, he continued scanning her down. Down to her boots, the holocamera bag resting on the table, the datapad in her hand.
There was nothing welcoming about him, no warmth, no veneer of politeness, no forced 'career smile', nothing. Again, it wasn’t unexpected - she’d seen it before. Soldiers didn’t like questions, and journalists were nothing but questions. She could almost see him calculating the possibility that she was some kind of plant by the Confederacy - or worse, a waste of time.
Finally, he took her hand. “Independent, huh? Means you don’t answer to anyone.”
“Define anyone.”
Wolffe’s grip lingered just long enough for her to internally question his motive, then released. The commander stepped back, arms crossed, still closely observing. Judging. But it wasn’t just suspicion and judgement she felt radiating off him. It was fatigue. The one that settles into your bones when you’ve fought too many battles and buried too many comrades. The kind of exhaustion that didn’t leave room for niceties or patience for people like her.
“I’ve read the comms briefing,” Wolffe said flatly. “You’re embedding with us on Vanqor. We received a distress order last night. Departure is set for two hours.” He turned to Chiko without waiting for acknowledgement. “I assume she’s cleared all health requirements - immunizations, standard field readiness checks? Signed off on the non-liability agreement, the operational security clearance, and the embed conduct protocol? And she’s been briefed on rules of engagement for civilians in a warzone?” Chiko flipped through her datapad to confirm. “All signed, sealed, and logged. I also attached a recommendation memo from Commander Fox and Lieutenant Torch from the Coruscant Guard. She’s fully cleared for deployment.”
Wolffe didn’t wait for further confirmation before focusing back to Tavi. “So they vouched for you. I’ll give you this much: stay close, follow orders, and don’t slow us down. My men don’t need distractions out there.”
Tavi opened her mouth to reply, but he interrupted. “Two hours. Be ready.”
“Two hours?” she choked out. Wolffe raised an eyebrow. “What? You got a problem with that?”
“No. Just… wasn’t expecting to move that fast.” Tavi quickly regained her composure. She signed up for this. She had survived worse places with minimum protection and zero insurance. “Good.” Wolffe raised both eyebrows, then dropped them just as quickly. “You’ll learn fast that the field doesn’t wait for anyone. Pack light, Drezz. We don’t have room for dead weight.”
He turned to Sinker and Comet. “Get the squad prepped. I want everyone on the landing pad in ninety. Notify the General that we’re ready to depart.”
The two clones saluted and left the room. Without another word, Wolffe followed after them, leaving Tavi standing by the table.
“This is a search and rescue mission, as outlined in your infopack,” Chiko tried to reassure Tavi. She closed her datapad and beckoned for Tavi to follow her. “Thought it’d be better for you to start here, in planning and prep, instead of being thrown into an active battlefield. General Plo Koon and Commander Ahsoka Tano will lead the operation. I’ll introduce you in a bit.”
“The travel to the Outer Rim will take approximately five hours,” Chiko continued as they walked down the corridor. “Plenty of time to review your notes, rest, and, hopefully, eat. You did pack, right?”
“Enough to keep me going.” Tavi mentally ran through her packing list. At least she hadn’t been completely unprepared. She knew she was being sent somewhere, but Chiko’s message hadn’t exactly come with a detailed itinerary.
Her email had been blunt, almost clinical:
"Your embed request has been approved. Report to the 104th HQ at the Republic Military Base by 0600 for further briefing. Pack accordingly—field conditions apply."
No mention of immediate deployment. No confirmation of where she’d actually be going. Just a line about “field conditions” that, in retrospect, should’ve been a bigger clue. Good thing she had charged the batteries for her holocamera last night and packed extra data chips. She’d also brought her satellite comlink - standard precaution, one she’d insisted on for herself ever since going professional. The GAR might grant her access, but she never fully trusted anyone else’s comms, not when stories had a habit of disappearing if they weren’t backed up properly.
She fixed the weight of her bag on her shoulder. “I’d have packed differently if you told me I was shipping out in less than a day.”
“Wouldn’t have made a difference. Wolfpack moves fast. You’ll get used to it.” Chiko smirked.
Three space gunships sat prepped in the hangar, their weathered hulls gleaming under the overhead lights. Not standard LAATs - these had been modified for vacuum operations, their heavy plating and sealed interiors built for search-and-rescue in hostile conditions. The air inside the hangar carried the distinct scent of fuel and exhaust, complete with the chatter of pre-flight checks filling the space. Mechanics moved between the ships, running diagnostics, sealing compartments, loading supply crates.
Near the closest gunship, a towering Kel Dor Jedi stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The polished metal of his rebreather subtly reflected the surrounding floodlights. Beside him, a Togruta in a battle-worn leather cuirass shifted her weight from foot to foot, arms crossed as she spoke with the clone commander in front of them.
And then there was Wolffe.
Same stance as he had in the war room, arms folded tight across his chest, spine locked. Everything about him felt charged, the kind of barely restrained tension that came from someone forcing themselves into stillness. Deliberate. Controlled. Like a coiled wire, wound tight enough to snap at a moment’s notice.
Tavi slowed her pace, absorbing the way they carried themselves. This wasn’t politics, not the calculated speeches and practiced smiles of the Senate hearings she covered. This was war, raw and unscripted. But not the kind of war she had covered. Of course, she had been in war zones before. Literal war zones, not just conflict areas. Ducked under crumbling buildings whilst blaster fire ripped through city streets, crouched in makeshift shelters with displaced families as they whispered about the Republic and the Separatists in the same exhausted breath. She had sat across from clone troopers after the fighting was over, recording the hollowed-out tone in their voices as they spoke about the men they’d lost, the orders they had followed, the locals who had either helped them or turned against them.
This was different.
These weren’t the ones caught in the aftermath. These were the people making the calls before the chaos hit. The ones who decided where the troopers would be deployed, which villages would be secured, which risks were worth taking. This was the part of war she had never been privy to. And she was about to see it up close.
Chiko didn’t stop. “They were briefed last night. The Jedi,” she muttered, keeping her voice low as they neared. “Wolffe confirmed your involvement minutes ago.”
The Jedi turned at their approach, and the sheer weight of Plo Koon’s attention landed on her like a quiet force of nature. Even through the mask, something in the way he regarded her carried depth - like he wasn’t just seeing her, but seeing through her. Measuring. Calculating thoroughly. The younger one, Ahsoka Tano, nodded and smiled, studying Tavi with a more open curiosity.
“General, Commander,” Chiko greeted them with a nod, slipping into the kind of professionalism that had been drilled into her for years. “This is Tavi Drezz, the independent journalist embedded for this mission. Communications Bureau cleared her yesterday. She’s here to document Republic humanitarian and recovery efforts.”
That last part had the polished ring of PR work. Tavi almost shook her head.
Plo Koon held her gaze. “Your work precedes you, Miss Drezz.”
“You’ve read my reports?”
Ahsoka’s arms dropped to her sides. “I think he means he’s heard about you.”
No confirmation, no denial. Tavi stole a quick glance at Chiko, who barely moved. The Jedi had access to everything - if they wanted information, they had it. The idea of being known before even speaking wasn’t new to her, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either.
“Your role on this mission is strictly non-combative. Your safety, and that of the team, remains the priority.” Plo Koon spoke again. Before Tavi could reply, Wolffe exhaled sharply. “She’s had the full protocol briefing,” he muttered, half to Plo Koon, half to himself. “She’ll follow the team and stay out of the way.”
Ahsoka’s eyes flicked back and forth between them, her expression hardening. “You ever been in a combat zone before?”
The answer came easily. “Yes.”
Poof. There it was. A beat of silence.
“Ever been in one where we don’t know what we’re walking into?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of Tavi’s lips. “I think that describes every war zone I’ve covered.” Ahsoka huffed and crossed her arms again. “Fair enough.”
Plo Koon nodded once. “Then we are in agreement. Commander, ensure she has what she needs.”
“Copy that.” Wolffe saluted sharply before turning on his heel, motioning for Tavi to follow. She hesitated for half a second, looking at Chiko, who only mouthed good luck before pivoting and striding away. No further instructions, no last-minute reassurances - she was officially on her own.
The gunship was nothing like the sleek transport vessels that ferried diplomats and senators across the galaxy. No separate compartments, no assigned seating, just a hollow space lined with handgrips hanging from the ceiling, a few crates stacked against the walls, and the narrow entrance leading to the aircrew and gunners. It smelled like fuel, hot metal, and something acrid that she couldn’t quite place - maybe from the residual charge of weapons locked in racks near the cockpit. Tavi stepped inside, fingers brushing against the familiar weight of her holocamera as she started to pull it free from its bag. She wanted to capture this, the quiet before the storm, but before she could do anything, a firm grip landed on her shoulder. She barely had time to register it before she was pressed down onto one of the crates.
“Sit,” Wolffe ordered, barely sparing her a glance as he moved past.
Tavi’s brows knit together, processing. “I’m not—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he cut her off. “This isn’t a civ transport. You don’t stand unless you’re us, or, you have to.”
She let out a sigh, making sure her bag was secured behind her as a makeshift cushion whilst taking off the lens caps of her holocamera. Fine. She could work with that. But already, the contrast was setting in. This was it. No distance, no neutral ground. No hovering in the relative safety of the aftermath, documenting war from the periphery like she had on Ryloth or Ord Mantell. This was stepping into the story as it unfolded, not knowing which way the ground would shift beneath her. No time to contextualise, no space to analyse, just the raw mechanics of war unfolding in real-time. And instead of recording the aftermath, she was going to be right in the middle of it.
She started checking the settings of her holocamera, fingers moving over the controls in autopilot. She wasn’t going to waste the opportunity, if she was here, she was going to document every moment, every decision, every little hesitation in the faces around her.
Across the gunship, Wolffe secured his helmet - just before it fully settled into place.
Click.
Through the lens, she caught it. The brief, in-between moment where the man and the soldier existed at once. Half his face still exposed, jaw clenched. The other half already swallowed by the T-shaped visor, the impassive mask of command sliding into place. Then he turned. The gaze obscured by the visor locked onto her.
“Hold on to something when we lift off,” he said. “This ride’s not going to be smooth.”
No, it wasn’t. But then again, nothing about war ever was.
Tavi gripped her holocamera tighter, a habit she had developed, as if it would anchor her to the ground or whatever solid element beneath her. Troopers filed in, securing their gear, locking in weapons, taking their places like they had done this a hundred times before - because, of course, they had. She looked up as Plo Koon stepped into the ship, and settled in near the aircrew entrance, holding on to a stray handgrip above him. Ahsoka followed close behind. She stepped into position exactly in front of her - turned to land her gaze on Tavi, and then she smiled.
Not forced. Not out of politeness. Just a quick, genuine thing, barely there before she focused elsewhere. Okay, Tavi decided. She liked the kid.
Outside, the gunship’s ramp began to rise. The metal clanked into place, sealing them in. A low voice from the cockpit confirmed their final checks.
Then, with a sharp lurch, they lifted off.
Five hours in a space gunship was an experience. Not the worst ride she’d been on, but certainly one of the more unique ones. The constant vibration of the engines, the low thrum of hyperspace humming through the hull, it all blended into the background after a while. What she hadn’t expected was the music.
Somewhere between hour two and three, one of the troopers had hooked into the comm system and started playing rock music in Huttese. It wasn’t loud, just enough to fill the space without overpowering conversation, but it set the tone. At first, she thought it was a one-off. Some kind of inside joke, maybe. But no - track after track rolled in, a carefully curated selection that was clearly meant to serve a purpose. Stress relief? Maybe. A way to cut through the monotony of waiting? Likely. An adrenaline booster for what was coming next? Absolutely.
Tavi craned her neck to peek past Ahsoka who was busy talking to one of the troopers, Boost, exactly in front of her, to catch sight of Wolffe across the cabin. She waved her holocamera to catch his attention. Can I? She didn’t speak, just mouthed the words in his direction. Wolffe’s gaze locked into hers, then he shrugged, giving her a quick OK sign.
Permission granted.
Click.
Another moment captured - one of the small, in-between moments that defined war that rarely made it into history holobooks but stayed burned into the minds of those who lived through it. Tavi had to angle the shot from below, forced to stay seated whilst the others stood around her. The framing was different from her usual work - looking up rather than at - but it worked. The way the troopers loomed above, the curve of their helmets catching the dim light of the interior, the slight lean of Ahsoka’s stance as she was engaging Boost in conversation.
Click.
She wasn’t sure how many more of these she’d get before they hit the ground, but she’d take what she could.
Five hours passed before a voice crackled through the overhead comms. “ETA to Vanqor, ten minutes. Prepare for turbulence on descent. We’ll be running low-altitude scans before we drop a beacon - expect rough air.”
Ahsoka, still standing in front of Tavi, turned to face her. “Rough might be an understatement,” she said, adjusting the leather vambraces on her arms. “We’re not landing, not yet. The pilots will sweep around the wreckage of the Endurance first, see if we can pinpoint Anakin and Master Windu’s last known location.” Tavi noticed a subtle change in pitch as the engines adjusted for atmospheric entry. Around her, the troopers started double-checking their gear, securing weapons, tightening straps. Ahsoka exhaled through her nose, rolling her shoulders like she was already bracing for impact.
“Hope you’re not afraid of a little turbulence.”
Turbulence didn’t scare her. She’d been through worse. Hostile environment training, emergency crash simulations, rapid decompression drills - she had the certifications to prove it. She had sat through flights so rough they felt like they were being rattled apart mid-air, had deployed into zones where the ground was still smoldering from orbital bombardment.
But if she was being honest, she wasn’t thinking about herself right now. She eyed the young Jedi standing in front of her. Ahsoka’s stance was solid, confidence rolling off her in that way only Jedi carried themselves. But the thin leather cuirass strapped over her chest wouldn’t be enough to stop a blaster bolt, would it? And Beneath it? A simple bandeau, bare shoulders, exposed arms. The leather cuirass didn’t match her usual outfit, either. The only thing it seemed to coordinate with was the grey markings of the 104th.
That wasn’t an accident. The Wolfpack must’ve insisted she wear it - probably the best compromise they could convince her to accept. Ahsoka Tano was a Jedi, sure, but she was still a kid, and these troopers had fought beside her long enough to know just how much of a risk she took every time she jumped into battle.
“Not worried,” Tavi said finally, shutting off the holocamera to save its battery life. “Just calculating what to do when you find your colleagues and I need to take pictures.”
Ahsoka’s brow lifted, the corner of her mouth moving upwards like she was about to shoot back a response - but before she could, Wolffe’s voice cut in from behind the girl. “Stick to Wildfire.” A sharp jab over his shoulder towards the trooper standing at his left. “I’ll be doing the rescuing,” he continued. “So I can’t be responsible if you plummet yourself out of the ship because you want to take pictures.”
Tavi exhaled through her mouth. “Damn,” she adjusted the lens on her holocamera. “You make it sound like I’m about to throw myself into a Sarlacc pit.” Wolffe didn’t dignify that with a response. He simply glared his visor onto her longer than necessary before turning back towards the rest of the men.
The pressurised LAAT staggered hard as it broke through Vanqor’s upper atmosphere. The change in gravity pressed against Tavi’s ribs, a hollow, stomach-dropping sensation that sent adrenaline sparking through her limbs.
Outside the open hatch, a dead war machine dominated the horizon. The wreckage of the Endurance sprawled across the jagged terrain below, its massive form a carcass of metal and ruin, semi-buried in the planet’s rocky surface. Smoke still curled from sections of its torn hull, vents and broken conduits spilling eerie glow where power flickered in its dying systems. The ship had once been a monster, a Venator-class Star Destroyer that had torn through Separatists fleets with its cannons. Now, it lay broken and silent.
Ahsoka moved to the edge of the open hatch, gripping one of the handgrips closer to the hatch as the gunship rocked against the turbulence. Tavi followed instinctively, trying to lean past her to get a better view. The wind resistance was brutal, the force of it whipping against her face, but she barely registered it. She had seen images of Venator-class Star Destroyers before - holonet broadcasts, Senate reports, recruitment posters that framed them as symbols of the Republic’s power. But she had never seen one in person. And certainly never like this.
Tavi gripped her holocamera tighter, her pulse picking up. She needed this shot. She adjusted herself, trying to find a good angle without breaking her grip on the support bar. The gunship rocked again, and Wildfire’s hand clamped onto her arm. “Careful,” he muttered, barely audible over the wind. “Wolffe’ll toss you out if you get any closer.”
Tavi barely heard him. The framing was perfect.
The Endurance sprawled beneath them, a monument to destruction, whilst the other two gunmetal LAATs of the 104th combed through its remains. The shot practically framed itself; Republic search-and-rescue forces navigating through the wreckage of a once-feared fleet, searching for their missing Jedi.
She adjusted the settings using one hand on instinct, regulating her breath.
Another. Click.
The red targeting scanners of the gunships swept across the surface, methodically scanning for life signatures. A voice crackled through the static of the onboard comms. “No sign of the Generals yet. Scanners picking up debris, still sifting through interference from the ship’s reactor.”
War had a way of distorting perspective. From the Senate floors, it was endless debates and statistics - how many fleets were lost, how many credits were needed to sustain the next campaign. From the outer rim, it was evacuations and aftermaths, burning cities, displaced civilians, silenced confessions from people who had lost too much to care who won. But here, inside the war machine itself, it was another beast.
No grand speeches. No declarations of righteousness. Just men in armour combing through wreckage, trying to pull their own from the ruins. She looked up to her left, catching Wolffe’s helmeted gaze as he turned his head towards her.
Click.
An audible gasp from Ahsoka - then, “There! The bridge! I can see them!” She pointed through the open hatch. Excited beeps followed from an astromech unit, blue and white, standing behind her. Tavi blinked. Had the R2 unit always been there? She had been too focused on the troopers, the wreckage, the shots she needed to capture, but now the little droid whistled insistently.
Plo Koon, standing just behind Ahsoka, turned towards her. “Ahsoka, hold the ship steady.” Without hesitation, the young Jedi threw her arms forward together with the Jedi master. Palms up, fingers splayed, and the gunship was immediately steadied by some invisible magnetic pull. Tavi stumbled back a step as the ship adjusted mid-air, the force of the movement knocking her closer to where Wildfire stood, making Wolffe now directly in front of her. She barely had time to react before Boost, Comet, Sinker, and another trooper - Corvis, she thought - moved into position to shoot ascension cables. The cables flew across the gap before they tethered the gunship into place.
Click.
Two troopers moved in unison, lowering their blasters they used to fire the ascension cables. Tavi barely registered which ones. Close to her, Wolffe’s voice snapped her from her awe.
“Comet, let’s go!”
Before she could process it, two troopers leaped out of the gunship. They landed hard on the bridge, kicking up dust and debris as they sprinted forward, dodging the unstable metal beneath them. Instinct had Tavi stepping forward, trying to get closer to the open hatch, camera already raised.
A hand caught her forearm, again. “Don’t get too close!” Wildfire snapped. She barely nodded, still focusing on the chaos unfolding below.
“Hurry, Commander Wolffe.” Plo Koon commanded with urgency. Down on the bridge, Wolffe and Comet worked fast, pulling at debris, pushing aside slabs of metal. Beneath them, the structure groaned - a deep, ominous sound. This wreck wasn’t going to hold much longer.
Then, Tavi caught a distant movement. Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker - alive, pinned beneath collapsed durasteel plating, obscured by the dust. Her breath caught as the clones braced, pushed, heaved the weight off the Jedi, working as fast as they could. The cables groaned, the bridge sinking by inches.
“We’re leaving in ten!” The pilot’s voice crackled again, filling the cabin. The gunship dropped lower, hovering dangerously close to the bridge’s edge. The gravity pull was brutal, Tavi felt it dragging her stomach downward as she clutched onto the nearest handgrips. Wildfire’s grip didn’t loosen. Her arm was probably bruised by now.
Above them, four figures moved towards the edge - Wolffe, Comet, Skywalker, Windu. They were so close, too close, to the point where one misstep would send them all plummeting into the wreckage below.
Click.
“JUMP!” Sinker yelled at them, and the four figures leaped. Armour and robes silhouetted against the wreckage as they jumped straight into the gunship. Plo Koon immediately yelled out his next command, “Cut the lines.”
Ahsoka’s lightsaber ignited to life. A sizzling green blur sliced through the ascension cables in one motion, the burning edges hissing as the cut pieces snapped back towards the collapsing bridge. Tavi barely had a second to process it before the gunship banked hard.
The floor lurched beneath her, and of course, she forgot to hold on. The sudden movement of the gunship knocked her backwards. An arm caught her waist. Tavi jerked back just in time to see the Endurance's bridge collapse into itself, swallowed by a gut-wrenching groan of metal as it vanished into dust and ruin.
That was close. Too close.
All she could think was Wildfire‘s now comforting grip. No - wait. Not Wildfire. Wildfire and Corvis were tending to Windu and Skywalker near the entrance of the cockpit. The grip tightened, securing her as the gunship lifted higher. “I told you to hold on,” Wolffe's groaned, his modulated voice was close enough that she felt the rumble of it against her shoulder. She swallowed as she tried to reach for the handgrips above, but Wolffe hadn’t let go.
The gunships jettisoned from the wreckage. Tavi barely registered the motion of it, her fingers moving automatically, raising her holocamera. She twisted her body in Wolffe’s grasp just enough to frame the shot --
Click.
Behind them, the Endurance exploded. A detonation of fire and wreckage split the horizon, the collapsing Star Destroyer consumed by its own destruction. Through the viewfinder, Tavi framed her final shot. One of the other two LAAT gunships tilted sideways in the foreground, caught as it veered away from the collapsing wreck. The fiery glow of the explosion behind it illuminating the falling shards of metal scattering across the hellfire sky.
Wolffe was still holding her steady.