Site-Ω-7, Holding Cell 4-B – 08:14 Local Site Time
A second monitor had been wheeled into the cell—an older auxiliary unit with a larger screen, its casing still bearing faint scuff marks from hurried transport. The feed it displayed was sanitized: no classified overlays, no live personnel markers, just a clean graphical representation of the rift itself.
A vertical tear in pale blue, edges marked with oscillating Hume gradients. Surrounding it, a lattice of red containment anchors pulsed in slow rhythm. Small readouts scrolled along the bottom: current aperture diameter 4.7 meters (±0.3 m variance), energy flux 1.2 × 10¹⁴ joules per second, dimensional shear stress holding at 87% of critical threshold.
Ahsoka studied the display with focused intensity. Yoda had moved closer, perched on the edge of the bench so he could see without strain. Vader remained standing a few paces back—close enough to observe, far enough to maintain distance.
"This is real-time?" Ahsoka asked toward the glass.
"Yes," Dr. Voss replied through the speakers. "Filtered for security, but accurate. The aperture has stabilized since your… pacification signal earlier. But the energy curve is trending upward again—slowly. We're concerned about secondary resonances."
Yoda traced one clawed finger along the edge of the screen, not quite touching the glass.
"Like a wound," he murmured. "Healing… but not cleanly. Something pulls from both sides."
Ahsoka nodded, eyes flicking to the fluctuating shear-stress line.
"In our galaxy, we've encountered hyperspace anomalies—ruptures, maelstroms. Usually caused by gravity wells or experimental drives. But this…" She gestured at the clean, unnatural edges of the rift. "This looks artificial. Like someone tuned it open."
Vader spoke then—voice low, almost thoughtful.
"A Scranton Reality Anchor, you called it."
Dr. Voss answered carefully.
"That's correct. Experimental array designed to stabilize local reality against anomalous influence. It was running at high output when the breach occurred."
Vader's helmet tilted fractionally.
"You attempted to anchor reality… and tore a hole into another. Predictable."
There was no mockery in the tone—only flat observation.
A small, wry smile touched Ahsoka's lips.
"He's not wrong," she said to the glass. "The Force doesn't like being pinned down. Push too hard in one direction, it pushes back twice as hard."
Yoda hummed softly in agreement.
"Balance disrupted, imbalance grows. The rift… feels both galaxies now. Hungry for equilibrium."
**Observation Post – 08:21**
The thaumatologist leaned closer to his tablet, brow furrowed.
"Doctor, look at this." He rotated the screen toward Voss. "Since they started looking at the feed, the shear-stress variance has decreased by 0.8%. Not huge, but consistent. It's as if their attention—or their presence—is damping the oscillation."
Voss studied the numbers.
"Correlation, not causation?"
"Too early to say. But the timing is exact."
She glanced back at the cell feed. The three figures were quiet now—Ahsoka pointing at a specific spike in the energy flux graph, Yoda nodding slowly, Vader simply watching.
"Keep recording," Voss said. "Every second. If their proximity is stabilizing the rift even marginally, we need to quantify it."
Director Harlan, who had been silent for the last several minutes, finally spoke.
"O5 will want that data yesterday. But they'll also want to know why three humanoids from another universe can influence our anchors better than our own equipment."
Voss didn't answer immediately. Her eyes stayed on Vader's unmoving silhouette.
"Because they're not just anomalies," she said quietly. "They're native to whatever physics the Force operates under. We're trying to contain a language we don't speak."
**Holding Cell 4-B – 08:29**
Ahsoka stepped back from the monitor.
"If this was caused by your anchor array overloading," she said, "then reversing the polarity—or whatever you call it—might close it. But you'd need to match the frequency on both sides."
Voss's voice returned.
"We've been attempting frequency modulation. No success yet. The rift responds, but not predictably."
Yoda closed his eyes briefly.
"The Force is already responding," he said. "Trying to mend what was torn. But it needs… harmony. Not force."
Ahsoka glanced at Vader.
"Master Yoda means we might have to work together," she translated dryly. "All of us."
Vader's mechanical breathing filled the pause.
"You ask me to assist in repairing the prison you built around me."
"No," Ahsoka said firmly. "I'm asking you to help send us home. All of us. Including whatever clones and ships are still waiting on the other side."
For the first time since the initial breach, Vader turned fully toward the one-way glass—toward the invisible observers beyond.
"You believe you can send us back."
It wasn't a question.
Voss answered honestly.
"We believe it's possible. With your help, probability increases significantly."
Another long silence.
Then Vader spoke again—words measured, final.
"Show me the anchor schematics. The full output logs from the moment of breach. If your machine tore the veil… perhaps I can see how to seal it."
In the observation post, Harlan sucked in a breath.
"That's classified—Level 4 at minimum."
Voss met his eyes.
"And if we don't share it, we lose the site. Possibly more."
She keyed the intercom.
"Stand by. We'll prepare a redacted schematic packet. Technical readouts only—no site locations, no personnel data."
Ahsoka gave a small nod of thanks.
Outside, through the rift, the second walker's repulsorlifts cycled down slightly—as though some distant commander had just received the same quiet order to wait.
The data transfer began: a slow drip of information across realities.
Small.
Careful.
Necessary.
**End of Chapter 12**