Chapter Text
The pick struck the shamisen string; quivering, the harmony oscillated into the room. The Maiko, dressed in a red robe with gold lining showing images of chrysanthemum petals, alternated between gentle plucks and stronger strikes from the back of the room, but the original note kept going behind it. Luminara frowned, almost seeing the note as the Geisha, in a black kimono with beautiful pink in lines of cherry blossoms, extended her palm. Her pale fingers vacillated, flickering this way and that, as though behind a curtain of heat.
Luminara’s eyes widened with understanding as the geisha gently brought her hand in front of her and then pressed the other hand down over it. She held the original note in her hand, keeping its vibration perfect, and with the melody continuing behind her she moved her hands and arms like water, pressing down and stretching up and to the sides, compressing and expanding the note to change its pitch and volume as if manipulating the air over a theremin. She cast a harmony with the shamisen, a soft and soothing melody with the occasional harsh note that made the lower and softer chords the more comforting for the discordance.
Luminara settled back to observe with admiration and a student’s love of learning. It wasn’t unlike the technique she’d used on Anison where she’d gathered sand and danced it around her body; but she’d never seen someone manipulate a sound wave before. The control and precision in the Force was remarkable, and yet, when she reached out she could barely sense anything emanating from the geisha. Though whether that was due to her own fraying connection with the Force or some other reason she wasn’t sure.
The song reached its crescendo. The geisha widened her arms, stretching the note to near breaking point, then rapidly compressed them and pushed them forward, fluttering her palms and fingers open like blooming flowers, and the note’s final noise washed over them with a physical buffet. The geisha carefully folded her hands into the lap of her kimono, face painted white and lips red creating a stark contrast. Golden beads hung from hair styled into a bun, and they tinkled gently as she declined her head.
Luminara raised her hands to clap, but a hand quickly pressed onto hers. She glanced to her side and the Maiko attending her, Chizuha, a young girl in a rose coloured kimono with a slightly upturned nose and fringes of hair about her cheeks, shook her head gently. She gestured with both hands at the refilled cup of sake, ducking her head as she did so as if unworthy of Luminara’s gaze.
Luminara smiled her thanks for preventing the faux pas, though she didn’t take the alcohol. It was probably rude, but she wanted to keep full awareness.
She sat on the tatami, at the right edge of the long table set up at the bottom of the room, which held an array of drinks, pickles and sashimi, wearing a simple robe and headpiece she’d been provided with. Beside her, on the left, sat Narshula, armour plate removed but with her helmet still on, attention seemingly on the geisha, Chizuru. On Narshula’s left sat Lop, wearing a soft brown robe with hands tied to her ankles and rope stretching between the two that allowed some movement but not much. She seemed resigned and paid the performance polite attention but no more than duty would require. Finally, at the other edge, sat Ochō, in comfier robes and a beaded headpiece to mark her as the Shōgun, focusing forward to honour the performance but with her eyes flickering to Lop every now and again.
Luminara’s attention drew back as the other Maiko, Chiyowaka, shuffled on her knees to the front Chizuru. She placed a candle in front of her and lit it, then shuffled away to dim the lights. The room plunged into darkness, save for the orange glow of the candle that drove shadows onto Chizuru's face, making her look like a looming skull.
Luminara leaned toward Chizhua. “What’s happening now?” she whispered.
“Dancing,” Chizhua whispered back.
From her robe the Chizuru produced a paper fan and opened it in front of her face, so her eyes glinted over the top. Holding that position for a moment she then moved the fan in a warp and weft, about the candle flame, barely disturbing it. But there was a frustration built into the act. You could feel the waft of the fan, and see glimpses of its motion at the edges of light, but the performance was for the most part hidden.
The geisha paused. She touched her off hand to her lips, the gesture of a laugh, then slashed the fan at the candle.
Luminara nearly gasped. Across the table she sensed Lop perking up. The candle flame sat atop the paper fan, but it didn’t eat it or lose its shape. It burned as though it were still attached to its wick. Chizuru brought the fan up horizontally under her chin, producing the spectral face but with greater intensity. She flipped the fan to hold it in front of her face, so its edge was just under her eyes again, and the candle flame jumped from the palm to the edge, sitting between her eyes.
How was she doing that? She had to be using the Force, but this wasn’t controlling something external through her hands, as with sand or the sound wave. This was controlling something through another object, as though she’d projected the Force into the fan itself.
Luminara leaned forward, reaching with her eyes and her senses to try and read what was going on better. She could sense the Force dimly, as something within Chizuru's body, but no motion emanating outside of her as though it were tightly wrapped within her robe. The Jedi often spoke of their lightsabres being extensions of themselves, but that was more of a metaphor than actuality; a way of understanding how to wield the blade. This, as best Luminara could determine, was literal.
The candle flame stretched, spreading and flattening across the edge of the fan until it became a glowing vein of fire. Chizuru wove the fan through the patterns again, but now its movements could be seen by the glowing lines it drew through the air, imprinting on the retinas for a brief moment. With that movement she drew shapes and figures, building on them and restoring the fading lines, until a phoenix in flight emerged, imprinting its blazing glory onto Luminara’s eyes for the briefest of moments.
She snapped the fan back together. The image faded and glowing magma became the candle flame, sitting on the tip of the closed fan. Chizuru carefully lowered the fan and brushed it across the wick, returning the flame to its original state. She let it sit, flickering gently for a moment, then she leaned down, shielded the flame with one hand, and, with a playful gleam in her eye, blew it out.
They plunged into darkness. It stayed that way, the rapt silence bedding in, then Chiyokawa raised the lights.
Luminara had to restrain the urge to applaud, instead glancing across at Lop and Ochō for an indication of etiquette. They both bowed their heads, long and low to Chizuru, who now sat with hands folded in her lap. Luminara followed suit, Narshula just behind her to her surprise.
“A magnificent performance,” Ochō declared, raising herself up. “You have outdone yourself again, Chizuru.”
The geisha bowed her head. “The Shōgun is much too kind, to this humble one.” Her voice was gentle, the accent softening Basic until the words almost seemed to fade into one another.
Luminara cleared her throat, drawing attention to her. She glanced briefly at Chizhua, who gestured with both hands cupped together to indicate Luminara wasn’t breaking etiquette, and continued. “Your performance has my deepest respect and admiration. I won’t pretend to know what you were doing exactly, but you demonstrated a use of the Force that I did not know was possible. For that learning, as well as your graciousness, you have my thanks.”
Chizuru bowed her head to her. “To receive such a compliment from a Master of the Jedi is most humbling.”
“I would convey my own respect,” Narshula spoke up, drawing surprised looks from Luminara and Lop. “Alongside a formal invitation to perform for the Supreme Leader, whenever the Shōgun may spare you.”
The slightest widening of Chizuru’s eyes was the only indication of her surprise. “You have paid me a very great compliment, Lady Narshula,” Chizuru replied after a moment. “I would be honoured.”
Ochō smiled. “Then you may do so, at the soonest opportunity, with my blessing.” She raised her hands and the three women straightened to attention. “Now, I beg your forgiveness for my forthcoming rudeness. We have much that may need to be discussed that is not for outsiders ears. With regret, I must ask you to leave.”
“Of course,” Chizuru replied. “We perform at the Shōgun’s command.” She gestured, and the two Maiko joined her at the top of the room, Chizhua giving Luminara a final nod and smile. All three prostrated themselves to Ochō, before gathering their equipment and seeing themselves out, Chiyokawa affording one final bow as she knelt outside the paper door before sliding it shut.
Lop snorted. “‘Forthcoming rudeness’; the formulation should be ‘my lack of courtesy’.”
“Just checking you were paying attention during father’s etiquette lessons,” Ochō replied, delicately picking up a pickle with her chopsticks.
Luminara angled her head toward Narshula, trying to figure her out. “That was a generous offer you made,” she said.
Narshula snorted. “The implication being, you’re surprised I made it?”
“It seemed out of character, from the little I know of you.”
“And there lies your answer, Master Jedi.” Narshula turned to her with an impish grin, raising her hand to show a minute gap between her thumb and index finger. “Little.”
“You’re a fool is what you are,” Lop muttered, managing to eat a slice of sashimi despite her tied hands, her comment drawing a reproaching glare from Ochō.
“And why would that be, young Lop?” Narshula asked, all sweetness.
“Drawing Master and Barriss out together? They’re going to beat you bad.”
Narshula giggled, an odd reverberating noise.
“If I was intending to fight them together, then yes you could donate the remains of my brain to science. But the point of she,” Narshula gestured at Luminara, “is to force them to split up. I’ll wait at the front of the palace, letting my presence be known and one of them will be drawn to me like the proverbial moth to the medcentre. Her execution meanwhile will be taking place at the back of the palace. I’m sure Barriss knows the layout.” She shrugged. “They can hardly afford not to deal with me, but they also can’t leave Luminara spinning in the wind. One of them I can handle fine. Once I’ve caught Ahsoka or Barriss, the other will surrender. Then off to Mandalore with them!” She paused. “Or traded to the Empire. Or I kill them. Haven’t decided yet.”
Luminara turned her gaze to the partially eaten food, the fat on the thin, pink slices of fish gleaming, and full cup before her. She was unbound, unlike Lop, which was a testament either to the sense Narshula and Ochō credited her with or their dismissal of her uncertain powers. Either way, she was well aware she couldn’t do much to challenge them, even before the guards quietly waiting outside the partition were added in. A burning frustration rose into her chest like bile, helplessness and uselessness pricking at her skin.
Once, it had been Barriss struggling with her connection to the Force and Luminara had forced her back into the field, out of necessity and hope that it would help her restore her connection. Now her former Padawan threw herself into danger to try and save her, while her own connection was poisoned so much she couldn’t do anything but watch.
Perhaps this was a test from the Cosmic Force, though she wasn’t sure she was passing it if so. Or perhaps she’d died in Order Sixty-Six, and this was her tailored torment in Mirial’s deepest Hell.
“What was the Temple like?”
Luminara blinked at the table, then slowly looked up. The puzzled frown in Lop’s gaze confirmed what her ears had heard, but her brain had denied. The question, spoken softly and soulfully, had come from Narshula. She stared at the table, finger circling the inner rim of her cup.
“Before the war, I mean,” she added.
Luminara furrowed her brows, curious and uncertain, disorientated again in her attempts to latch onto her. When they’d first met she’d seemed like many of the gangsters she’d encountered as a Jedi, though more assured and amused by her own dominance. Now a crack seemed to open in her armour, if that’s what it was, and something almost longing held at the end of her words.
Assuming this wasn’t just another game and performance.
“Why do you wish to know?” Luminara asked.
“Let’s say I’m curious.”
That, as far as she could sense appeared to be the truth.
Luminara took a small breath. “It was…beautiful. The corridors all had great windows, floor to ceiling and the sun would stream through in the mornings. The Temple was soundproofed, so none of the racket of the speeders travelling ever made it through. Instead, in the morning, you’d hear the sounds of younglings at play or in instruction. Strangely, even the sounds of lightsabres clashing in training had a softer, composed crack to it. And everywhere there was this vibrancy. A purity. A concentration of lightness in the Force. Even in the darkness corners it felt like you were in the sun; in the most confined rooms you could feel a breeze on your spirit.”
She let her words trail away, the memories fading with her words. She’d felt it again as she spoke, the Temple of old; of her youth; of her early adulthood. Though it was harder and harder to feel again, and she wondered if that was caused by the engulfing darkness or by a quiet doubt as to whether it had always been a mirage.
Silence greeted her words. Lop’s ears had risen slightly and she regarded Luminara with a curious wonder. She guessed that neither Barriss nor Ahsoka had told Lop much about the Temple. They probably didn’t remember; their memories perverted by what came after.
Narshula traced her finger around the cup’s rim once more.
“Sounds like a dream,” she said quietly. “In both good and bad ways.” She paused, then stood and swept Lop up in a bridal hold. Lop squeaked and bucked, trying to squirm out of her grip. “Well, I have things to do, so bed time. Thanks for the meal, Ochō!”
“Let me go!” Lop shouted, as Narshula carried her out of the room, kicking open and then kicking closed the sliding door.
Ochō and Luminara faced one another for a moment, then Ochō rose and Luminara stood with her. “I’ll return you to your room. There is a matter that needs to be discussed.”
They walked down the corridors, trailed by the two guards, the wood boards thumping and squeaking pleasantly under their tread, until they arrived at the room that doubled as Luminara’s cell. It was much the same, the cypress wood, the desk and futon with the meditation cushion, but a flower pot had been introduced with some freshly arranged lily’s lending a comforting fragrance to the room. Ochō shut the door behind them, the guards remaining outside, and Luminara stood in the centre of the room, hands folded in front of her.
It was the first time they’d been alone together since Ochō had first taken her here.
“I was very surprised to learn I was being executed,” Luminara commented. She raised a brow. “I seem to recall you saying I would be safe in your care.”
“You recall incorrectly, I said I would do everything to ensure your comfort,” Ochō replied. She reached a hand to her hair, before catching herself and lowering it, her beads tapping. “I was given the option of either using you or Lop and I won’t sacrifice my sister unless I have to.”
“A charming sentiment.”
Ochō eyed her. Though her connection to the Force was still troublesome, Luminara could feel the well of anger and frustration that simmered beneath her composure.
“I have,” Ochō began, controlling her words, “ensured that your execution will be an honourable one.” She drew a knife from the folds of her robe, then pressed her palm to the tip to show it was fake, the blade retracting into the hilt. She passed it to Luminara, who took it with a puzzled frown. “You’ve been granted the right to commit seppuku.”
Luminara turned the fake knife in her hands. “Forgive my ignorance, but that would be?”
“Ritual suicide. You stab yourself in the belly and draw the knife across horizontally, effectively disembowelling yourself.”
Both of Luminara’s brows went up at that one. “It sounds extraordinarily painful,” she said. Jedi were taught to move beyond physical pain through their connection to the Force, but she imagined even Master Yoda would blink at this one.
“It is,” Ochō said, not bothering to sugar-coat it. “The pain is the point; you demonstrate your courage by going through with.”
“I am honoured,” she replied, drily.
“You should be.” Ochō raised her chin. “Mock if you wish, but this ritual is normally reserved exclusively for senshi and nobility. Commoners, to say nothing of outsiders, have never been permitted to perform it before.”
Luminara took in Ochō’s fierce expression and absorbed her words in silence. She looked down at the knife in her hands and a small dot of shame marred her conscience. Much as it was distasteful, it did seem to be something culturally prized. Ochō’s choice of words, ‘secured’, suggested that it was not something she was able to grant without spending some political credit.
It was an honour, in its own way. She met Ochō’s eyes, then bowed her head. “I apologise for any insult,” she said, then repeated without sarcasm, “I am honoured.”
Ochō blew out a breath. She attempted a smile, but it didn’t quite have the strength. “It’s not all bad. I’ll be there as your second. So once you make the cut, I’ll cut your head off. It’ll end the pain.”
For this one, Luminara fell back on the old adage of ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, merely smile politely’.
Ochō took it for what it was. She bowed low and backed to the door. “Should you require anything, just use the datapad to summon an attendant. Every comfort, within reason, is available to you.”
“Thank you.”
Ochō left and Luminara stood alone in the room.
She sighed and knelt, staring blankly at the wooden floor. She contemplated reaching into the Force as she’d done before, but the claws of anxiety scratched at her spine. Last time she’d taken the plunge and had seen…something unsettling. The dark planet. Though she’d heard Master Yoda’s voice, as clear as if he’d been in the room with her, she hadn’t been able to hear anything more from him no matter how much she tried, to the point where she’d begun to wonder if her desperation had imagined it.
She was definitely now imagining him informing her that trying was the problem.
Bereft of the stillness she needed, and the seeming ability to find it, she turned the knife over in her fingers. She supposed she should practice. After all, botching it would bring shame. And added pain.
She positioned the knife at her belly, point inwards.
Then she felt Quinlan die.
“I’ll kill her!”
Barriss raged, like a sun exploding and shedding its outer layer. She didn’t know what to do with herself. In the confined space she went one way and back again, all twitching limbs and restrained violence against herself and objects, teeth glazed in spittle and shining under the lights. Ahsoka felt the seat vibrate, heard a soft groan from the instruments.
“I’ll—I’ll t-tear her—sh—sh—sh—shred—!”
In frustrated, agonised, rage she smashed her boot into the wall, a dent curling from the impact.
It broke Ahsoka’s heart. Broke it more that she had to do something Barriss would hate.
She leapt out of the seat, crossed the short space between them, and grabbed Barriss form behind, hugging her arms together tight.
Barriss let out a screech. She thrashed and kicked and Ahsoka knew it was overwhelming her, the sensory overload painful, but she couldn’t risk the fighter being damaged. Not when the situation was this desperate. Slowly, Barriss thrashing mellowed to twitching and Ahsoka lowered them to the floor, flipping her head so her right lekku fell over Barriss’ shoulder. Instinctively, the Mirialan clutched it with both hands, squeezing tight enough that Ahsoka winced.
But from Barriss she felt the change. She knew her so well, she could feel it through her body and breathing alone, not even needing the Force. The muscles started to relax, the breathing became less hurried and panicked. The rage was evaporating, leaving behind a mixture of anguish and guilt.
“Breathe with me,” Ahsoka whispered, speaking for the first time. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, being careful to blow the air away from Barriss. Barriss’ short hops of breath continued for a moment, then she picked up Ahsoka’s rhythm and carried on with it.
They did that for a long time, the blue and white swirl of light playing past them and fuzzing their shadows.
Eventually, Barriss let go of Ahsoka’s lekku and Ahsoka took that as her cue to let her go. Barriss brushed at her uniform as she crawled to the back wall of the TIE Advance, slumping back against it with her knees drawn up. Tears ran down her cheeks, tracing her tattoos, her hair in disarray, and Ahsoka didn’t know what to do or say.
“She was supposed to be safe,” Barriss said, voice hoarse from the shouting. “She was supposed to be…safe. I promised, I said it was best, I…” She shook her head, squeezing her eyes. “She was supposed to be safe!” she shouted. “Why?” She banged her fist against the floor. “Why? Why?” A bang for each word. “Why whenever I try to do something right, something good, does it always go wrong?!” She pounded her hand on the ground and then shoved her face into her hands, scrunching her fingers into her hair.
Ahsoka watched her sobbing a moment. Barriss’ right pinkie finger stuck out at an awkward angle, the occasional spark spitting from the joint. That was a goner. But fortunately not the flesh one. Ahsoka shuffled toward her, trying to keep calm.
“Not everything you try and do right goes wrong,” she whispered, flickering a hopeful smile.
Barriss looked up at her, eyes raw like a red sun bleeding across the ocean. “You’re the only thing,” she croaked.
Ahsoka smiled. “More than that. I’m sure Lop would agree.”
Barriss stared at her and then cringed and dropped her head, guilt plaguing her. “Lop,” she said, voice tortured. “I’d forgot—in all that…selfishness I’d forgot--”
“No,” Ahsoka interrupted. “Don’t blame yourself. Luminara means a lot to you, and we only just rescued her. You didn’t forget about Lop because you care about her less. And she’s not in immediate danger Ochō will protect her.”
She hoped. She felt the thought of Lop being in Narshula’s hands like a lump of white hot coal in her chest. A dangerous and terrifying emotion rippled through her, one she dared only look at out the corner of her eye. If she felt it fully, if she found Lop was in danger, she would split the world in two to rescue her. Like the relief at thinking she was going to hear her voice, the sudden power of the emotion surprised and shocked her.
“It’s not,” Barriss started. “You’re hurting to and I…” She stopped herself. Drew in deep breath, thumped the heels of her hands against her forehead once—Ahsoka readying herself to catch her wrists if she tried again—then rubbed them over her face.
“That’s enough,” Barriss muttered. “We need to plan and be ready so we can take immediate action as soon as we land.”
Ahsoka nodded. It perhaps wasn’t great that Barriss was burying everything to focus, but having a focus was better than the alternative right now. Once this was over and everyone was safe, then they could have a mutual moment.
Distantly the thought occurred to her: what about Pa’Chee and Ilite? There’d been no mention of them, in Narshula’s message. Oddly that was somewhat comforting. If they were dead or captured she’d surely taunt them with it. But then why leave them out and about?
Barriss’ brow furrowed and somehow Ahsoka knew she was considering the same thing. But horrible though the thought was, Ahsoka couldn’t handle adding any further concerns to the ones pressing down on her. It already felt like fighting against a hydraulic press.
Ahsoka took Barirss’ hand and helped her up. Squeezing tight, they moved back to the console and she swung into the seat, tapping at the console. “I think, calculating time and our speed, with the time difference between our origin point and Tao, we’ll arrive on time.” She studied the hyperspace projection and chronometer, and grimaced slightly. “Might be cutting it fine…” she muttered.
“Our bigger problem is how we’re going to get to the planet,” Barriss said. She reached out and saw the damage to her cybernetic hand, the synthflesh torn and the jutting pinkie. She pulled a face. “I don’t suppose…”
Ahsoka reached out, grabbed the pinkie, twisted and tore it off, and then threw it over her shoulder. “Luckily you damaged the least essential finger.”
“At last; some good luck.”
Ahsoka couldn’t stop her chuckle, and after a moment Barriss let out a tension relieving blurt of laughter.
Ahsoka settled back into the seat and stared at the console. “Narshula will almost certainly have some kind of blockade up and running. We don’t have solar sails, and we’re in a TIE-fighter. Their scanners will explode the second we’re in range. I could try running the gauntlet but heading down to planet with a tail of fighters is not ideal…”
“I don’t suppose we could issue a challenge to Narshula and she lets us land?”
Ahsoka gave it some consideration. “See, I reckon she’s crazy enough to accept and let us pass, but not crazy enough to do so without guardrails in place.” Barriss drew her lips down, nodding her assent. Ahsoka crossed her arms and ducked her chin to her clavicle. “I suppose if we came out of hyperspace far enough away…”
“There’s another problem.” Ahsoka looked up at Barriss. She stared out at hyperspace, the blue and white interchanging across her face. “I think…Narshula must have some way of detecting people with the Force.”
Ahsoka raised a brow. “What makes you think that?”
Barriss stared forward a moment, then looked at Ahsoka. “You’ve thought it as well. Narshula has likely left Pa’Chee and Ilite alive and seemingly not captured. She would definitely have taunted us with it otherwise. I’m not sure how widely she’s broadcast the message either. But she either has to be incredibly confident that no word of this will reach the Children of the Force; or she has some way of detecting people even if they’re suppressing their presence in the Force.” Barriss chewed at her lower lip. “Either way, I don’t want to gamble on the first possibility.”
Ahsoka frowned. It sounded a bit too paranoid to her; it would be an absurd gamble to make if you weren’t certain of whatever it was you were doing. More likely she’d left the two alive and around because she enjoyed the chaos it might bring and the Mandalorians wouldn’t exactly be adverse to testing themselves against the Jedi. But if it gave Barriss something to focus on…
“Okay,” Ahsoka nodded. “You work on that problem, I’ll work on the getting us down to planet problem.”
Barriss nodded absently, mind already turning over the problem. She turned to the back of the shuttle and winced, limping slightly before slumping down against the wall, muting her hiss of pain.
“Maybe heal your foot,” Ahsoka suggested.
“Yes, I was contemplating doing that,” Barriss replied, holding her boot and wincing . She scrunched her eyes shut and then attempted to pull it off.
“And Barriss?”
Barriss paused her yanking and looked at Ahsoka, starting slightly at the expression she saw.
Ahsoka stared hard, her facial patterns drawn tight together, a snarl straining at her lips. Speaking it, considering it, was bringing all of her rage to the surface. “I’m dealing with Narshula, okay? Luminara will need you.”
Barriss opened her mouth to protest, then acquiesced with a nod. She returned to pulling at her boot, eventually succeeding in getting it off and clumping it down beside her. She gripped her foot in both hands and Ahsoka turned away, feeling her presence diminish then expand in a new way as she slipped into meditative healing. Ahsoka turned back to hyperspace, focusing on the white star at the end of the tunnel from which the whirl of blue and white seemed to flow.
It was partially true what she’d said; Luminara would prefer Barriss to help her, and Barriss would feel the better for it. They couldn’t leave Narshula on her own--looking over their shoulders all the time would distract them. But she didn’t want Barriss to fight Narshula. She might lose it, might deepen herself into her rage, to say nothing of whether she’d be able to concentrate on the battle fully. Ahsoka wanted to keep her away from that rage.
And, truthfully, Ahsoka wasn’t sure Barriss could beat Narshula.
And Ahsoka couldn’t allow her to get away. She’d had hurt Luminara, had hurt Lop.
Her fists clenched and her eyes narrowed, blazing in the light of hyperspace.
And, selfishly, Ahsoka wanted revenge.
Reva hissed as the alcohol splashed over her burnt flesh and stung like a mynock bite as it seeped in. Like thousands of the bastards bites. All in one area. And this was probably going to be the least painful part of the ordeal. The storage area was devoid of anything, apart from a faint sewage smell that was overridden by the aseptic scent of the alcohol, so she sat on the floor against the wall, near the ladder rungs. While waiting for the stinging to recede, she thought.
About her grand plan and how that had all gone up in smoke. Had never, apparently, had a hope of succeeding in the first place. She’d premised everything, justified everything, on the idea that in the end it would all be worth it because she would kill Sidious. She’d tried her hardest to avoid partaking in cruelty. When she’d had to, she’d killed cleanly and quickly. She hadn’t exactly slept well, but in the dark, when she was alone and knew there was nothing observing her, she’d repeated that mantra to herself as the tides threatened to overwhelm her. Keeping them at bay with the words over and over again.
“I will kill Sidious. I will avenge you all. It’s necessary.”
For a while, after Order Sixty-Six, her recurrent nightmare had been the corridor in the Temple. She would always hear Anakin and Obi-Wan talking as she lay among the corpses of her friends. They would move off, and she would get up and start to follow them.
Except in the dream, her dead friend grabbed her ankle. Held her back. And they all stood and reached for her and judged her for her cowardice.
The corridor, she imagined, was going to be very full now.
Only, it wasn’t just the dream she had to face. Wasn’t just everyone she’d sacrificed. There was someone else now. Someone whose presence needled the back of her skull. That try as she might, she couldn’t put it out of mind and couldn’t think about without the recurrent flashes of the electroshock machine and silent repetition of the mantra.
Surreptitiously, she cast her gaze up, toward where she knew Sabine was.
She fixed on her position, until she had to turn her eyes away to the floor. Her eyes narrowed the longer she looked, her fist tightening even as the sting faded. Resentment flourished as she played back Sabine’s attitude as she’d tried to make amends. She’d even helped her fix the hyperdrive, after she shoved her to the ground, but that merited no response either. Oh, she could understand, sure. Nobody liked to be kidnapped, or threatened or tortured. Sure. But did she think about how much Reva had hated doing that? How much she’d been burning her own soul? To say nothing of the fact that Reva at least was conscious of what she was doing; was aware of the harm she was causing in aide of her cause. Not Sabine. She had no clue what she was doing, what she supported, or what she was doing in aide of it. At least Reva had that awareness in her actions.
She shook her head, dispelling the thoughts, and snatched up the scissors. She positioned them awkwardly at a chunk of the burned flesh, her nostrils flaring both with the low simmering anger and anticipation of what was to come. Forcing herself to action, she started to snip. Pain stung through her, a white hot needle reaching all the way to her brain, but she carried on snipping through until the chunk plopped to the floor. She took a long, steadying breath, grimacing at how much more she had to go.
She positioned the scissors at the next piece, psyching herself up to go again.
At least this way she didn’t have to—
A groan vibrated through the shuttle and a moment later a huge thud shook the space, sending the bottle of alcohol rattling across the floor and throwing her body forward slightly before she banged back.
Her heart rate picked up a notch and her breathing became quick and shallow. She knew that feeling, she’d lived with its nightmare for a long time. The shuttle had crashed out of hyperspace.
She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She was fine. She wasn’t alone. This wasn’t unfixable. And—
An angry roar came from above, the noise making her jerk up straight. That had sounded like Ventress. Curious, Reva turned to look up the ladder as she heard thumping feet.
“What the hell happened?” Ventress yelled.
“It’s okay,” Sabine replied, evidently coming into the central hub, “I thought this might happen.”
Scuffling feet and a yelp. “What do you mean you thought this might happen?!”
Reva put down the scissors and started to ascend the ladder, taking it carefully and easy as she consciously adjusted to only having one arm. Both feet up, then the hand, over and over. While doing so she listened to the argument above.
“Chill!” Sabine replied with aggravation. “I had to perform a quick repair, I figured the sealant would get eaten through eventually.”
“And you didn’t think to say?”
“More important things were happening and I couldn’t predict when it would fail! But it’s fine. Now certain death is hanging over us, I can do a better repair.”
“Isn’t hanging over us?!”
Reva poked her head through the opening and looked over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Ventress was holding Sabine by the scruff of her shirt, so she was up on her toes, Sabine gripping the hand in return. They’d been staring daggers at each other, but their gazes turned toward Reva now she’d appeared. Neither of them seemed complimentary, Sabine’s narrowing.
Ventress let go of Sabine. “We’ve crashed out of hyperspace.”
“I figured,” Reva said, wincing as she pulled herself up through the opening and stepped off the ladder. “But she says she can fix it, so why is this an issue?”
Ventress’ lips peeled back to expose her teeth. Turmoil, anger and anguish shuddered out of her and Reva nearly took a step back with its strength. Sabine just looked bemused at the whole thing. Ventress stepped away from Sabine toward a corner of the room, running a hand through her hair and then rubbing her face viciously. When finished, she turned back around with an expression of controlled fury, but desperation lurked beneath it.
“Someone…I care about, that Obi-Wan cares about, has been captured by the Mandalorians,” she said, slowly as though unsure she could control her words. “She’s almost certainly being used as bait and is in grave danger. We need to get to Tao as fast as possible.”
“I’ll get on with fixing it,” Sabine said, starting for the void suit she’d left on the floor, muttering to herself.
“Fast, which means you two have to work together!” Sabine turned to object, but Ventress raised a warning finger like a lightsabre to cut her off. “If we fail to save this person, I will never forgive myself. Unfortunately for you two I have a tendency to externalise my problems.” She eyed them both. “Have I made myself clear?”
Sabine glared at Reva, then looked away. “Yes,” she said in a sulky tone.
Reva’s complicated emotions narrowed. The damn throbbing pain in her shoulder wasn’t helping, but even so she edged toward irritation at how annoying Sabine was. All performative anger and pouting and why? It’s not like Ben was around to see it, and put an arm over her shoulder and tell her how right she was.
Ventress jabbed a finger at Reva, startling her and for a brief, anxiety punching moment, she thought Ventress had been reading her mind. “You, stay there,” she commanded. “I will clean and dress your shoulder,” which surprised Reva as she’d assumed she didn’t know how to, “but first I need to try and contact the Children of the Force and bring them in.”
The little monster inside her uncurled its claws.
Ventress started past Reva and she said, very casually, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Ventress paused, then slowly walked back to the room. Reva kept her gaze forward and saw Ventress emerge in her peripheral like a small, wrathful moon, suppressed rage and suspicion etched into the lines of her face. “Why not?” she hissed.
Reva, keeping calm, nodded in Sabine’s direction. “Ask her.”
Sabine, halfway to putting on the void suit, looked up baffled and annoyed. “Don’t drag me into this, I don’t have anything to do with it.”
Reva tilted her head, studying the girl, and played her next move. “Project Scry?”
Sabine furrowed her brows at her a moment, then snorted with disbelief. “Oh, come on!” She went back to putting on the void suit.
Ventress stepped further into the room, taking a commanding position and crossed her arms. “What is project Scry?” she demanded.
“It was an offshoot of Nihil!” Sabine said, exasperated. “Ketsu and I…” She paused briefly, then shook it off. “We did some mathematical and engineering troubleshooting for them about a year ago, before we got moved on to another aspect, though Ketsu still occasionally got called back in for bits and pieces.”
Ventress smiled in the way of an animal communicating threat. “You’re giving me a lot of context but not actually telling me what it is…”
Sabine huffed, zipped up the void suit, and turned to the room. “Okay, so you know the four forces right?”
Ventress narrowed her eyes. “You mean the Force?”
Sabine stared at her with exaggerated stupefaction. “The four fundamental forces of nature?”
Ventress shrugged nonchalantly. “I had an unconventional schooling.” She paused, then added menacingly, “I am, however, familiar with the practice of shoving someone’s head into the refresher and hitting the flush.”
Sabine took her meaning, drew in a breath, and toned it down. “Okay…there are four fundamental forces in nature: gravity, electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear. Professor Shenxi hypothesised that the thing you call the Force might be a fifth fundamental force, or a unifying force. It’s hard to untangle exactly what the M-Force is because it’s steeped in millennia of mysticism and bullshit that you guys used to raise yourselves as the high priests of galactic justice.” Both Reva and Ventress blinked at that one. “But if you do what Shenxi does, and assume it’s a fundamental force, it solves a lot of the mathematical problems and then you can do interesting things with it.
“A core principle of the forces is that they can transmute to one another. So you can convert nuclear to electromagnetic for instance. It’s similar to how, you know, you can encode sound waves and photos into electricity, then into quantum particles, so you can send holoprojections across the galaxy. Making this assumption, means we can convert the Mid-Force into the other forms.” She paused for a moment. “Arguably, you already do; which is why you can move things with your mind or throw lightning bolts from your fingertips.
“One of the other things you can do is ‘sense’ people, isn’t it?” Sabine looked between Reva and Ventress.
Reva played along and nodded. “We can feel other people, can work out its them through the signature their presence carries. We can also sense emotions, like Ventress’ steadily growing anger.”
“Exactly,” Sabine carried on. “It’s like a scanner, with some cold reading thrown on. You’re sending out a signal that bounces off and back from someone who has the sensitivity, and everyone has something like an IP.
“Theoretically, then, you could convert the Mid-Force to another one. If you do that, and attach a suitable reader, and find a way to send out the signal scan, then you could read the positions of Force sensitives in a given area.” Sabine moved her arms out in a lazy ‘tah-dah’ gesture. “That was what Project Scry was about.”
Silence greeted her words. Reva had known about it, though shorn of some of the background details, and she flicked her eyes to judge Ventress’ reaction. It looked like the news had come as physical blow. Her crossed arms slowly unravelled, her eyes widening and jaw dropping as she digested Sabines news.
“You’re telling me,” Ventress began, slowly. “That Mandalore has a Jedi radar?”
“I’m saying,” Sabine replied, with a drawl on the ‘ing’, “that theoretically it’s possible. But practically? No. Not on the timescale you’re talking about.”
“Why not?” Ventress demanded, hope and fear guttering together.
Sabine rolled her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe she was even having to go into the reasons why, so obvious should they be. “In order to do this you’d need several years of testing on non-sentients first to calibrate the equipment. They weren’t even in that stage when I worked with them, still stuck at working on how to do the transference. After that, you could move onto testing sentients, but even then it’s a difficult and dangerous process. I mean, this is what I was coming up with. You’d have to attach a cable directly to the brain of the subjects—the focal point of your signal--in order to minimise information loss, and hook them up to the machine. Even if you sorted out the major issues with that, you’re still looking at a minimal risk of neurological damage.
“So, first, getting past the ethics board would be a challenge; second, you’d have to explain the process to potential recruits to obtain consent, so you wouldn’t get too many volunteers if any—and the scale you’re talking about you’d need a minimum of ten. And you couldn’t dragoon Force sensitives into it, because without the scanner you wouldn’t be able to find them.” Sabine gave a dismissive gesture, problem solved, and turned to pick up her helmet.
Reva saw the opportunity to twist the claw and, with barely a moment’s hesitation, she took it. “And,” Reva spoke quietly, “what are Force sensitives required to do when they join Mandalore?”
Sabine turned back with an incredulous look. “They have to register, obviously, because it would be dangerous to…” She trailed off. A tremble started up from her chest, her skin paling and eyes widening in dawning horror as the implication of her words hit her. “But…but they wouldn’t—they couldn’t!” she stammered. “No one would—no one at the University would do—the ethics of it would—!” She looked around, as if appealing to help from someone.
She found only Ventress’ cold stare. “Unless, of course, your culture built up Force sensitives as something to be feared and beyond human,” she growled.
Sabine cringed, but couldn’t seem to find her voice to defend herself.
One part of Reva felt satisfaction at a lesson duly delivered. She needed this smack; she deserved it.
Another part of her seemed plunged into a well of shame, and wanted to disappear down the ladder.
Ventress jabbed a finger at Sabine. “You. Fix the hyperdrive. You,” she jabbed it at Reva, “wait there. I need to have a very different conversation with the Children of the Force to the one I thought I was going to be having.”
The room fluttered with activity: people checking monitors, whispering notes to each other, adjusting switches and dials, scribbling, and the unified beep of the life monitors. Behind all that was a pulsing throb that was felt like a physical brush against skin, an itch on teeth, and unnevered Ketsu Onyo’s ears. When the call had gone out for assistants to trial Scry, Ketsu had leapt at the opportunity. Finally she was getting to actively contribute to the war effort. Alright, it wasn’t smoking stormtroopers but still, something she worked on was now in action.
And doing so might help her put Sabine’s disappearance out of mind.
Everyone she’d contacted at House Wren kept saying she was just badly ill; but too ill to pick up a comm? Or reply to a message? That was death’s door shit, and should warrant a friend being allowed to see her.
This distraction, however, was proving a little more disturbing than she’d imagined.
When they said they were testing Scry, Ketsu had assumed something smaller scale but the leaps the project had gone on since Sabine had solved the conversion problem was astonishing. Ketsu had been brought back in here and there, notably making the suggestion, and working through some of the engineering issues, to switch from electromagnetism to gravity as the medium to smooth out issues with noise, but seeing it realised…
It had a unsettling quality she couldn’t name. They were in specially reconditioned room of a Mandalorian cruiser, orbiting Tao. In the centre of the room was a large, wide, drum, beams of light streaming across it that looked wavy and wispy as they met across the centre. The principle was the same as the light sculptures that used artificial gravity to shape and move the light. Only here, the artificial gravity was concentrated into gravity wells that reflected the M-count of a location. Hence, the deep, dark well that sat at the ‘south’ of the drum representing Tao, the light sinking and vanishing into it like water down a sinkhole. A steady pules rippled the light like waves from the centre, escaping the drum to become the fading itch on Ketsu’s teeth.
Around the drum, evenly spaced, were the twelve Force sensitives, reclining comfortably on medical chairs in thin shirts and trousers. The top half of their heads were covered by large, square white helmets, the back portion protruding out with a cable dropping to snake toward the drum. Their mouths were exposed and slack, smears of leaking drool quickly wiped by attendants, and the occasional snarl of a finger nail jerking against vinyl rose beyond the steady beep of the life monitors.
Tearing her eyes away from the sight, she focused on the dataslate in front of her monitoring the balances and conversion rate. “Everything stable,” she reported. “Estimated conversion rate at eighty per cent.”
Dr Kallidi, a Togruta with wavy markings across his face and two long lekku that draped past his hips, nodded from where he observed stony faced at the drum side. If he had any anxiety about his project coming to fruition, he didn’t show it. Though they were only at phase one of the test. He tapped at the console leading off the drum and blue grid lines stretched over the light field, high enough to not be distorted by the gravity in the drum.
Beside him, the adjutant Kranest Vennrer gazed across the board in her sea green and white Mandalorian armour, jet black hair falling to her shoulders. Ketsu, alongside others, craned her head to try and see deeper into the drum from her position, as the next phase of the experiment began.
“All being well,” Dr Kallidi began, “we should see Lady Narshula’s ship appearing…there!” His composure broke as he excitedly pointed at a small well that emerged from the edge of the drum and then moved quickly across the grid.
Kranest keyed her comm. “Sector 3.8, moving fast, check scopes.”
“Obviously, this is a 2D representation,” Kallidi continued. “So range and depth might be harder to judge, when mapped onto space. With greater technological enhancements we might be able to move to a 3D representation. But I’m confident that this will be sufficient--”
The comm pinged, interrupting him. “We have a lock on the Chrysalis,” the gunner said over the comm.
Kranest smiled. “Copy.” She turned to Kallidi. “Well done, Doctor; your test is a success.”
Kallidi gasped, seeming overwhelmed, as a cheer went up through the room sweeping Ketsu into elation. It worked. All the tinkering and back and forth and long nights and headaches had been worth it. A project with her name on it was a success!
It was just such a shame Sabine wasn’t here. She would have loved witnessing this and feeling the triumph. Ketsu let a sly smile fold her lips. Oh well, Ketsu would just have to drink her share. She could tease Sabine about missing it when she was finally ‘better’.
Kranest raised her comm again. “Lady Narshula? We have you on a lock. Scry works. Repeat, Scry works.”
Narshula grinned, observing the Mandalorian cruiser outside the viewport. “Excellent. Now let’s see how many fleas we can catch.”
She twisted the yoke and the Chrysalis, a silvery spear-head with two dipping fins, banked back toward Tao, twin engines igniting with star flare.