It could be worse, Meetra told herself, wrapping up in a thread bare blanket and pressing closer to the youngling she had tucked against her side. She was lucky to be alive, she thought, a sad smile coming unbidden to her lips as the young boy snuffled in his sleep.
The war was over. The Jedi had lost spectacularly after the capture and subsequent betrayal of Padawan Bastila Shan. The remnants of the Council had been hunted down by the ever growing Sith fleet, and the temple on Coruscant had been destroyed.
Revan finally had the empire he'd so coveted, and as was par for the course, he'd made very short work of winning over the public.
With former Padawan Shan at his side, the charismatic Dark Lord was weaseling his way into the hearts of a sizable chunk of the population. Strain between the Jedi and the citizens put Revan into a perfect position. After all, the people didn't really differentiate between the Sith and the Jedi. They were all just force users with slightly different strategies, to the casual observer.
All it took was a few brush strokes by a master manipulator to repaint the Jedi into an archaic body of uncaring, privileged people who had ignored the needs of regular citizens for centuries, leading the Republic into war, poverty, destruction... the list could go on for an age.
The Jedi effectively had become the Galaxy's biggest scapegoat.
Until Lord Revan had come and toppled their oppressive dynasty, saving the people from the hypocrisy of an outdated order of supremacists. Obviously.
Meetra snorted at the thought.
Everything that had occurred was suddenly fault of the Jedi. The Mandalorian wars, the Jedi Civil war (as they were calling it), and the resulting social and economic strain that was facing the Republic. As could be expected, what little decent Government was left after decades of war had fallen beautifully into line. Public opinion was everything to an elected official.
Not to mention that no one particularly wanted to cross Revan.
Revan had the current Chancellor at heel like a well trained Kath hound. Or, at least that was the last she'd heard from the Capital. Her contacts had gone silent not long after the Temple had fallen.
Bastila's capture had really been the last blow. Perhaps if she'd simply been killed, the Jedi would have still been able to hold Revan at bay. Unfortunately within several weeks of being captured she'd resurfaced, turning her vaunted Battle Meditation against what little was left of the Republic's resistance.
It had only taken 16 days once Bastila was on the side of the Sith, to bring the majority of the Republic fleet to it's knees. As planet after planet surrendered, Revan's ranks continued to swell. Morale fell and propaganda began.
Force users were dangerous. That was the bantha-shit they were spinning. She'd heard the Public Service Announcement on the Holo not long after Revan had destroyed the Temple on Coruscant. Anyone suspected of aiding the Jedi was to be reported.
A few weeks after that, the High Chancellor had proposed that all Force sensitives be registered in a galactic database. Anyone who came forward of their own accord would be given a full pardon for any previous crimes against the Republic.
Meetra wasn't convinced.
To anyone with half a brain it was an obvious ploy to flush out the youngest of the Jedi. Those Padawans that had fled the enclaves on their own, with no Masters to guide them. Some of them were little more than hungry, scared children, and would jump at the chance to stop running from the law- hopeful to reunite with their friends and teachers.
After the registry, the Senate had announced it's program to eradicate unregistered Rogues (Rogue Force Users) from the Galactic Republic. It had been met with a startling amount of public support.
Revan had chosen that moment to intervene, using his position to object to the inhumane treatment of sentient beings.
They are simply misguided, he said in a speech at the Galactic Senate. "Rehabilitation is the moral thing to do, Rogues can be made into productive members of modern society."
She sneered at the memory, her lips curling to show her teeth.
Against her side, the boy stirred, and her face softened. She pulled the blanket tighter around the both of them, stroking his hair. There would be little peace for her tonight, with the constant threat of being found. Meetra wasn't sure exactly what being rehabilitated entailed, but given the Sith's track record, she was very sure she didn't want to find out.
From what little she'd gathered from the Holo, and her few informants- the Republic was moving the captured Jedi and Force sensitives into rehabilitation centers on backwater worlds. Not all of them ended up there, but those that did got sentenced to hard labor like common criminals. It seemed to be some sort of agricultural, or sanitation work that they ended up doing. A social experiment, said the Republic, taking dangerous Rogues off the streets and helping them get back to a normal, productive life.
Meetra was one hundred percent certain that it wasn't that cut and dry. It never was with Revan.
Shifting in a vain attempt to get comfortable, the Exile leaned her head back against the wall behind her. It would have been simpler if she'd stayed out of it, stayed out of Republic Space. When she'd heard though- as usual, she'd been unable to just stay away. Instead she had jumped right back into the fray. She had raced from one enclave world to another, looking for answers, for survivors. The Sith left her alone for the most part, unable to sense the Force in her. Finding the boy had been dumb luck, and now that she had him- she wasn't really sure what to do with him.
She would have taken him to the Jedi once, but there weren't many free Jedi left. Finding the ones in hiding would be difficult, potentially impossible.
It was a question for tomorrow, much like the question of food and off world transportation.
She sighed softly, closing her eyes. Just a few minutes of sleep...