Pooja Naberrie groaned as she took a seat at the foot of a tree. She'd been slogging around this kriffing bog for six days now!
Only a week ago, she was a resident at the Alderaani government-in-exile's massive palace on Telos. Viceroy Organa himself gave her the keys to a massive, climate-controlled room with warmed marble tiles that felt like heaven against her bare feet. She had her own bathroom, with a whirlpool tub and a steam shower. It was every bit as luxurious as her aunt's old 500 Republica suite on Coruscant.
Thinking of all that now exacerbated her frustration. This place, the forested hills of Tashyma, was nothing but swamps, uphill forestland and more swamps and uphill forestlands. The atmosphere was thick with the putrid stink of decay and methane. The humidity was unbearable--it was already starting to give her rashes. She was filthy from slogging around in the mud. There was no clean, flowing water for bathing; all the water was brown, stagnant and repulsive. Insects bit her and left her with open wounds she wouldn't notice until they blossomed into painful sores a few hours later.
The discomfort provided by the forest was nothing compared to the uncertainty of the night. The howls of unseen forest predators frightened her into paralysis. The sound of movement caused her to slow and silence her breathing. Her mind conjured up images of terrible beasts stalking this nightmare of a forest. Bull Rancors, Akk Wolves or Lyleks could all be roaming around, searching for their next meal.
Blast that Tru Veld. How could he leave her here, alone? This was too much for any twelve-year old to handle by herself.
Pooja grumbled again and looked up at the glowing green moon, which was only partially obscured by the thick forest canopy. She wished she was back on Telos, where she belonged. How did she get into this mess? She wanted to be a Jedi, it was something she longed for ever since She was told years ago that she was Force-Sensitive. There was so much good she could do. She could make sure that what happened to her would never happen to any other child, ever again.
So she agreed to Jedi training, but Siri and Obi-Wan never told her it would involve...this. Master Tachi assigned her to Tru Veld. As soon as she boarded Veld's ship, the Black Albatross, and they left Telos, the Teevan Jedi told her that he would not instruct her, but another Jedi Master, on the distant world of Tashyma, would.
So Veld gave her a backpack with two weeks' worth of water and food rations (which tasted horrible), knee-high swamp boots and dropped her off on the planet. Han Solo, Veld's co-pilot, promised her a map. What he provided was little more a hand-drawn diagram with no legend or scale.
She hated him more than she hated Veld.
Honestly, what did they expect her to accomplish out here, in the middle of no where, with no map, no compass, no instrumentation...and only a small holdout blaster for protection? Could it be a test of some kind? No, this had to be some kind of sick, cruel joke. It was probably Solo's idea.
Pooja was planning out all of the things she could do to get back at Solo when a sudden, snake-like hiss jolted her back to the present. All of her aches, pains and sores--all of the rashes, the discomforts from the jumpsuit and the humidity, the putrid stink of the swamp gas--vanished from her mind. She felt nothing except the rapid thomp-thomp-thomp of her heartbeat. It was going to explode out of her chest. An overwhelming panic came over her as she tried to silence her rapid breathing. Out of the dread, a single thought emerged: what was that?!
There was a sudden rustling. Pooja didn't even process what that sound was. It didn't matter whether or not it was footsteps, where it was coming from, where it was going, or even if it was headed in her direction. The panic overturned all rational thought.
Run!
The forest, the swamp, the dark, stagnant water sloshing at her feet, and the loose brush swiping past her face all became a blur. She didn't pause when she reached the foothills. She treaded up that incline as quickly as she'd sloshed through the swamp. The only thing that followed her the whole way was the terrifying beast she'd conjured from the core of her imagination.
This was why she hated this place. Beyond all of the petty discomforts and inconveniences, her heart and mind could not find peace here. This place was unsafe. No, beyond unsafe. It conjured up images and feelings of a time she'd struggled to bury under a year of comfort and protection. Behind the palatial walls of the Alderaani palace on Telos, with the hundred-ship Protectorate defense fleet in orbit, she was safe.
There, she was in control. Here, she was not. Those monsters that roamed this forest, whether real or imaginary, had all the power. She was at their mercy.
When she finally stopped, her body's need for oxygen caught up with her. The fatigue which had been all but nonexistent a few moments ago crashed onto her aching legs. Her lungs hurt. There was a pinch she felt under her skin where the strap of her pack pressed its weight on her shoulder.
She looked around quickly, trying to find signs of any kind of movement under the moonlight. The canopy was much thinner from the hills, and she could see much of the ground around her. There was nothing. Not an animal in sight, and not a sound other than her own staccato breathing.
Pooja sat down on a rock and slipped off her pack, panting heavily as the exhaustion trickled over her weary body. She normally pitched her small tent and slept at dusk. It was far into the night now, why was she still awake? Something had kept her up. She couldn't describe it. It was a feeling...no, it was blunter than feeling and less precise than knowing. Some suggestion of some kind tugged at her to keep trekking through the swamps, even after the suns set.
After she caught her breath, it tugged at her again. There was something at the top of this hill. Something she was looking for. She slipped on her pack and continued scaling the hill. After she reached the top, there was a thick grove of trees.
As Pooja paced through the grove, the sound of running water came to her. It was the most welcome sound she'd heard in her life. She knelt down dipped her hands into the creek. She gasped as she felt the cool, clean water wash away the filth and grime on her hands. Moments later she was splashing handfuls of the fluid over her face and arms, trying to rid herself of the filthiness of the swamp.
She was suddenly pulled from her reverie when she heard a person's voice drift through the trees. She quickly turned from the creek and retreated into the shadows of the grove. She was able to make out the person's words before she saw the clearing.
"...How long has it been?"
The clearing came into view. The speaker was a man, a tall, dark-skinned, bald man. There was a single tree in the clearing, rooted at the banks of a small waterfall that fed the creek. He had one hand placed firmly on the tree. His face was almost touching it. Was he...talking to the tree?! And he was wearing the same robes Master Siri and Obi-Wan used to wear?
"Two years?" The man asked, his voice lined with a small hint of confusion. He rested his forehead gently against tree bark. "How is this possible? Well, anything is possible through the Force, but why am I here?"
Pooja's expression soured. Was this the Jedi Master Tru Veld sent her to train under? A man that lived in the middle of the forest and talked to trees? What kind of lunacy was this? Were there a lot of Jedi like this? The only Jedi she'd ever known were Obi-Wan and Siri. They had a residence at the Alderaani palace. They were advisers to the Viceroy and the Protectorate government. They were heroes. Tru Veld? Well, he was a little less. And this man?
This man was mad.
As she shook her head, she noticed the huge purple crystal sitting in the middle of the grove. There were facets and jagged edges in the huge crystal that captured and reflected the moonlight beautifully. The strange man turned around and looked at the crystal for a moment. Then his eyes shifted to focus completely on her.
Pooja froze. His gaze wasn't threatening. It wasn't unhappy or even slightest bit displeased. It was just neutral. Unreadable. She took a step back, somehow feeling unwelcome.
"Come on out of the shadows, youngster," he said. "Don't be afraid. You're safe here."
Pooja nervously stepped out of the grove and into the clearing. The rich, Tashyma moonlight illuminated her, and the huge purple crystal cast opalescent reflections over her. She wasn't sure if it was the effect of the moonlight or reflections from the crystal, but the man seemed to have a feint, bluish blow about him. There was a long silence as the man studied her curiously.
"You're a Jedi Master," she said suddenly.
"Yes, I am," he replied, acknowledging the brown robes he wore.
"Are you...to be my teacher?"
He looked at her for a moment, his expression revealing nothing. He then glanced over his shoulder, looking back at the tree that rooted at the waterfall's banks, then considered her quizzically. "You've come to learn the ways of the Force?"
"Tru Veld told me to find the grove." She paused as she looked around. This place was beautiful. Her annoyance suddenly rose as she recalled the past few days and the sores that covered her body. "He didn't say which grove, so I've been slogging around this impossibly huge forest for days now."
The right side of his upper lip twitched. Was that a smirk? The annoyance blossomed into anger. This whole ordeal was a joke. Tru Veld and this...this tree-talker must have set this up from the beginning!
He inhaled deeply and nodded.
"Well, are you going to instruct me?" she asked. The impatience in her voice was tangible.
His expression became stony once more."You do realize that I'm not the only Jedi Master here, right?"
"I don't see any others," she snapped.
"Surely, you can... But if you can't sense the other, then you have much more to learn than I first thought." He turned away from her and took a seat atop the purple crystal. "Besides, would you really want to be a apprenticed to a lunatic that talks to trees?"
She practically jerked back. She felt like she'd been slapped across the face with her own words. How did he...
"Always be mindful of your thoughts," he said sharply. "That should be enough for a first lesson. It takes an incredibly long time to master."
He assumed a lotus position and began meditating. How could a Jedi be so sluggish and timid? Her scowl deepened and the frustration boiled over. There was so much
"There has to be more you can teach me!" she screeched. "I didn't slog through miles of swamp and that insane uphill forest for aphorisms."
"Are you so sure and so certain that I'm to be your teacher that you won't even bother to take a look around? As I said, I am not the only Jedi here. You are the only student. It is the way of the Jedi to hunger for knowledge; to seek truth. You will not be spoon-fed."
She glared at him and exhaled sharply.
"Sit down," he said firmly as he opened his eyes and glared back. She did so instantly. "Perhaps...you would be able to find your instructor if you learned a little about the Force. How did you get here?"
"I--"
"There was something that guided you here, wasn't there? A feeling. Maybe even lighter than a feeling, a suggestion. Something you couldn't explain or understand. It was simply there. Am I correct?"
Pooja nodded.
"That is the Force," he said. "You--"
"The Force?" she asked quizzically. He held up his hand to silence her.
"--You reached for the Force instinctively and it guided you." He paused to take a deep breath. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes were searching for something. Perhaps he was trying to recall a speech he hadn't given in a long time? "The Force is in everything and it exists everywhere. It is an energy field created by all living things. It is what binds the galaxy together. A Jedi's wisdom, insight and strength all flow from the Force. If there is one term that can sum up a Jedi's essence and being it is simply this: harmony with the Force. When you learn to clear your mind you will be able to consciously hear it and use it."
"But--"
"No questions. Your view of the galaxy is very narrow. How can you aspire to be a Jedi with such a closed mind? You must learn to not fall victim to your built-up preconceived notions. There is too much that we don't know and too little we do know for us to make presumptions about anything. " He closed his eyes. "Presumptions can only mislead. Let go of your doubts and stretch out with your feelings."
Pooja sighed and closed her eyes. Minutes passed and she felt nothing.
"Focus only on what you seek. Your teacher's name perhaps?"
She nodded and did as he said. That was when she felt it. That subtle suggestion was tugging at her again, urging her to come along. She reached out for it and grasped it. There was an amazing surge of calm that enveloped her. Was this...the Force?
Congratulations, Padawan, you've taken your first step into a larger world, a feminine voice suddenly said.
Pooja opened her eyes. She didn't hear that. She felt it, through the Force. She suddenly glared at the tree that had spoken those words to her through the Force. This was all...so much. Too much to take in all at once.
"T'ra Saa," Pooja suddenly said as she stared at the tree. She turned back to the man sitting on the purple crystal. "Mace Windu."
Mace grinned and nodded. When she looked back to where he was sitting, he was gone. She scowled and looked around. There was no trace of Master Windu anywhere.
"Where did he go?" She asked T'ra Saa.
Master Windu has returned to the Force, T'ra said, don't worry. I'm certain we will see him again.
* * * * * *
"Alright, Han, get ready to detach." Tru Veld's commands were slightly interrupted by the sound of deflector shields warding off laser fire from the dozen or so TIEs that struggled to keep up with his ship. "See that junction coming up? Detach and drop down the lower tunnel--the TIEs shouldn't even notice you. I'll meet up with you when you've found Master Kenobi and Master Tachi."
Mace never ceased to be impressed by the complexity and innovativeness of Tru Veld's designs. His heavily customized YT-1300 frieghter, the Black Albatross, was a true marvel, and perhaps the finest work Tru had ever done. An entire section of the forward saucer--the main cargo bay, where the Jedi Grandmaster was seated in now--could be separated from the ship and used as an open-air skiff. As Han Solo yanked the release lever next to his console, it became just that. A gust of wind flashed past Mace's face as Han angled the skiff down into the tunnel and away from the train of fighters chasing its mother ship.
As the small craft emerged from the tunnel, Mace was shocked at what he saw. All of the Coruscant traffic lanes were empty--not a single civilian craft flew in between the immense skyscrapers.
This was a terrible, dark time. Revolts had begun here, just as they had on many other planets. And in spite of this planet's extreme importance as the center of his Empire, the Supreme Chancellor gave the same response--heavy orbital blockade and an aggressively enforced curfew.
Before he even set out on this extraction operation, Mace knew to expect this, but knowing it and imagining it in his head couldn't even begin to prepare him for actually seeing it and experiencing it. The ever-busy planet-wide metropolis was suddenly an eerie ghost town, devoid of all normal activity.
All Mace would hear was this order being blared out through the planet-wide PA system: "For your own safety, remain indoors. General curfew has been enacted."
Mace looked up, and only one ship streaked past his view: a Republic attack gunship. One of his worst fears were coming true. The symbol of democracy for nearly twenty-five thousand years, the Galactic Republic, was transforming into a military dictatorship. A gunship, manned by dozens of combat troops, patrolling the streets of Coruscant would have been unfathomable only eight years ago. But somehow, the pandemic deceptions of one man made this obscenity real.
As the small skiff continued its descent through the jungle of skyscrapers into the lower city, it passed a deserted shopping plaza. The huge display over the plaza, instead of cycling through product advertisements, was showing footage of Anakin Skywalker being interviewed by F'Lamiya Gosu, a very popular news personality.
"Any last words you'd like to leave the people at home with, Anakin?"
"Well, yeah...I guess, I just want to say that we're all in this together. We're all at risk and in danger together--whether it's from the Jedi, the crime syndicates, the Hutts or various affiliated terrorist groups, there are a lot of people out there that want to kill us."
The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the former Jedi that captured his worried expression as he looked off into the distance, trying to gauge something off screen. Slowly, the worry began to melt away into a cheerful smile. Terrific acting.
"You know, no matter what the pundits might try to say, the only person who's had the wisdom to guide us through all of the crises has been the Supreme Chancellor. I trust him. We need to keep trusting him. He's the only one that can make the right decisions to keep us safe. As for myself, I can only keep doing my part. And I promise, that I will continue to do everything I can to make the galaxy a safe place again."
This was the "Imperial Revolution": a mad grab for power by one cunning Sith Lord, his cabal of accomplices and allies and his legions of delusional followers. Palpatine--or, more accurately, Darth Sidious--was its patron saint and the fallen Jedi Anakin Skywalker was its champion.
And Anakin Skywalker was indubitably Sidious' greatest asset. He was a very handsome young man, with a well directed, on-stage charisma that made him extremely appealing as a stiff-nosed hero. That, combined with his record as a soldier of the clone wars and his reputation as a Jedi-killer made him a perfect fit for the Imperial propaganda machine. He talked about his duty and his missions in such a blunt, unadorned fashion it seemed almost anti-intellectual--like a sports star discussing the game-winning play. The media's never-ending highlight reel of him cutting down Jedi portrayed him in the same light.
And those masses who neglected books, instead latching on to their holonet screens for information, loved every single second of it. It had all the intensity and suspense of a holodrama, but was a million times more compelling because it was real. Anakin Skywalker really did battle with Aayla Secura and he really did cut her in half. And they loved him all the more for that. To them, he was more than a hero--he was a savior.
And Chancellor Palpatine? A man with almost godlike wisdom and insight. The beloved master philosopher, worthy of any kingly crown! They brushed aside the criticisms from the dissenters and naysayers. Those fools who would bring up the Constitution and point to Palpatine's "grievous" violations would see that the Constitution was beyond old, it was an antique, crafted in a time when terrorists never existed, by founders who, though wise, never have foresaw a time when the Jedi would betray the Republic in a mad bid for power. Those criticisms were moot. The Chancellor was beyond justified in his actions.
Because they believed that so thoroughly and completely, they would go to most any depths to prove their loyalty to their benevolent Chancellor. A few of them, those with good health, joined the Imperial Stormtroopers. Many served with the Imperial Revolutionary Guard, a loose organization of red-armband wearing civilian irregulars, often working hand-in-hand with the Stormtroopers or Cloonetroopers when they needed supplements. Almost all of them were informants, willing to spy on their neighbors and report any Rebel scum or Jedi dogs acting in their neighborhood.
Mace sighed forlornly as the skiff dipped further into the Lower City. It was these masses--a sizable portion of the manipulated, propagandized and brainwashed civilian population--that largely brought about the downfall of the Republic's old guardians, the Jedi Order. A year before this catastrophe began to unfold, the Elder council foresaw a trap to destroy the Jedi and the Order went into hiding. The strategy of stealth and concealment allowed them to unravel the secret behind the true identity of Darth Sidious.
Now, the informants were unraveling the secrets of the Jedi. Slowly, anonymous tips began to spell the end of Jedi anonymity. A tip brought Anakin Skywalker and an entire legion of Clone Troopers to Shaak Ti's home on Nubular V, a world she'd fought to liberate from Confederate control only eighteen months ago. Aayla Secura's neighbor caught a glimpse of her lightsaber through the window. The next day, Skywalker trapped her in a public transit station and his personal camera crew recorded as he fought and cut down the Twi'lek Jedi. Luminara Unduli used the Force to pull a child out of the way of a speeding groundcar. The next day, she was ambushed in a market. Somewhere in the fight she was disarmed, and her Sith opponents took to beating her with knuckledusters. They captured her with a Force suppression halo.
Now, of the sixty-seven Jedi who survived the five years of the Clone Wars, only five viable Jedi remained. Tru Veld and Vincent Dawnstrider were two. Windu himself was, undoubtedly, another. The last two--Obi-Wan Kenobi and Siri Tachi--were the object of this extraction. There were a few others--Barriss Offee, Plo Koon, Tahzjol-A'Sura Lintulu--that were missing. Mace knew they weren't killed by the Imperials because if they were, their bodies would have been paraded on Palpatine's propaganda holonet channels. Lastly, there was Mace's mentor, Master T'ra Saa, who was crippled and recovering on Tashyma.
Obi-Wan and Siri had come to Coruscant following a lead on the whereabouts of Senator Padmé Amidala, an opposition leader who was believed to be dead for nearly eleven months. They found her in Anakin Skywalker's apartment, of all places. They attempted a rescue but failed and somehow escaped Skywalker alive.
The Grandmaster wasn't surprised. Obi-Wan trained Skywalker after all, so he knew the Dark Jedi's swordplay in and out. Furthermore, there was something Mace sensed within Skywalker when he encountered him on the Bundarr Station. Beyond the ravenous fury and greed that ruled him, there was a conflict. An inner doubt. Mace wouldn't be surprised if Skywalker simply didn't have it within himself to destroy his old master. And Siri, as resourceful as she was, would have no doubt exploited that weakness to create an escape for both of them.
The skiff reached the point in the skyscraper jungle where natural sunlight ceased. There were only streetlights illuminating the empty catwalks. Every wall was covered in graffiti. There was one particular piece that stood out to Mace--it was a giant portrait of the Rutian Twi'lek Senator Svatva Venustas. Written underneath, in clean, elaborate, highly-stylized aurebesh text were the words DESERVE LIBERTY.
Mace knew he was in a friendly neighborhood now, and this thought was confirmed when Han ducked the skiff into another alley and people started opening and leaning out of their windows, cheering on the one ship that dared to defy the curfew. Many of them were waving Telosian or Nabooian flags.
These people were the ones spearheading the revolt. They were the flag-bearers for representative democracy, the last bulwark of liberty. They were the dissenters who opposed the Supreme Chancellor's trampling underfoot of the Constitution. They were the people who knew too much to be controlled. Even a politician as cunning as Palpatine could not fool all the people all the time.
Yet for every Constitutionalist eager to smash the rising New Order with a homemade incendiary cocktail, there were two Imperial Revolutionary Guards and two citizens who didn't care enough to be involved.
The sound of blaster fire pierced through the cheering, and Mace's view narrowed as the skiff emerged from the alley. There was a shopping center where a detachment of Stormtoopers and IRGs were exchanging shots with a rag-tag group of civilians. A 2-M Saber Class repulsor tank coming in from the opposite alley to reinforce the outnumbered Imperial forces. Two rebel gunners across the way set up their heavy repeaters and started mowing down the line of Stormtroopers.
Han brought the skiff down to avoid the stray fire that glanced their way. As they continued their descent, Mace caught sight of two women leaning out of window perches with portable missile launchers. With two shots, they pulverized the Imperial tank.
"We ought to be out there, helping them," Solo said.
"In time," Mace replied.
The Grandmaster closed his eyes and tried to tune out everything and focus only on the Force. As he reached out beyond the heavy whine of the skiff's repulsorlift engine and the echoes of blasterfire from above, he got a feel for all the activity on this planet. These types of small skirmishes were going on everywhere. And they weren't limited to outdoor shootouts, either--there were running gunfights through project tenements, pinned-down sieges, chases through the public parks--Coruscant wasn't in the middle of an uprising. This was a flat out civil war.
And it was likely the greatest challenge to legitimacy that the Dark Lord of the Sith had yet to face. As Mace focused on the ebb and flow of the Force, the hurricane of Vaapad and the inner peace he'd found at the eye of the storm, and the image of Darth Sidious seemed to crystallize in his mind's eye.
The Dark Lord himself was a shatterpoint, and he was vulnerable. This was the most trying time for the Supreme Chancellor, where he would either overcome the dissidents or be deposed as many tyrants had in the past. IF Palpatine was struck down now, this entire kingdom he'd created with him would crumble. Mace knew. As the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, he had to act.
"Master Windu," Han said, waking the Jedi Grandmaster from his meditation. "We're coming up on Obi-Wan and Siri's signal now."
Mace reached out with the Force before opening his eyes. Mace hadn't seen Obi-Wan or Siri in a year, though he knew they'd spent quite a deal of time working together. There was something about their closeness that felt...odd. The Force-signatures were strong, but they were so close together that they might have been one--it was incredibly hard to tell.
"Over there," Mace said as he pointed towards a small crevice in the alley they were cruising. Judging from the low levels of light, they were towards the very bottom of the kilometer-high city.
Han fixed the skiff lights on the crevice. The first thing Mace noticed was blood. A lot of blood. Obi-Wan was unconscious, lying in Siri's lap, and they were both sitting in a pool of it. The crimson fluid spilled off the side of their little crevice and dripped to the expanse below. Siri's eyes were red and puffy. She'd been crying, perhaps for hours on end. Other than that, she wasn't hurt. All of the blood was Obi-Wan's.
Despite the failing organs, shattered bones and internal bleeding, Obi-Wan's battered body somehow managed to hold a flicker of life. Everything he sensed about the severity of the injury told Mace that his lieutenant should have been dead. How was this even possible? As he looked back at Siri's puffy eyes, he suddenly had a clue. Their Force-signatures weren't just close--they were bound.
"I'm so glad to see you, Master Windu," Siri said. Her voice was hoarse from screaming.
Mace reached out with the Force and lifted Obi-Wan from Siri's lap. The Force was the only tool precise enough to move him without causing further harm. Mace placed him gently on the repulsorlift stretcher on the skiff. Siri leapt onto the skiff and immediately focused on treating Obi-Wan's wounds with one of the medkits secured to the stretcher. Han tilted the controls on the skiff and they zoomed off, ascending to the higher city.
"What happened?" Mace asked as Siri plugged an IV into Obi-Wan's arm.
"We found Senator Amidala deep in Skywalker's compound," Siri said as she worked to mix a bacta/kolto solution. "He's been keeping her as his personal slave."
Mace nodded, his expression unchanging. Anakin had killed some of his old friends and childhood colleagues. This sort of despicable behavior wasn't too surprising. "Go on," Mace said.
"We almost got her out when Anakin showed up. He was almost too much for us." Siri paused as she hooked the IV to its feed bottle. "He came really close to killing me several times, but we got the upper hand. And just as we had him cornered on the balcony, Sulfuron showed up. He hit Obi-Wan in the back with his gravity hammer."
Darth Sulfuron was the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy and the Supreme Chancellor's chief military strategist. Mace nodded again. "And?"
"Obi-Wan fell. And I fled. I couldn't take both of them alone. I don't know why they didn't go after me." Siri's voice was heavy. "There's something else, Master. Amidala appeared to be pregnant."