It has come to my attention that I edited and released this fanfic in a way that users are not used to, so I'm breaking up the first half of this story into 3 chapters for your benefit.
(Sorry for the wonky formatting; the doc editor on here kept undoing things and I didn't catch everything).
How can the light that burned so brightly
Suddenly burn so pale?
Bright eyes.
-0-
Depa Billaba was left behind on Takodana and in her place, Dura Joti boarded the Harlock cargo ship with instructions to drop her off in Ryloth's capital city, Lessu. The captain didn't recognise the name, thankfully (she supposed only Chalactans would know the name of the legendary Adept) and told her that the trip would take about ten hours or longer if they met any trouble along the way.
Dura made her seat in the belly of the ship, along with a dozen other passengers, and sent a silent thanks to Maz. She could start over now and maybe start her journey to reconciling with the Force, then with her grief. Caleb entered her thoughts often, no matter what she did to keep him out (she had to keep it together; he only reminded her of how much she hurt), and she still couldn't reach out in the Force. She was sure it had left her completely; surely it wasn't meant to be so stiff and hollow to its own children?
She stayed in her thoughts and musing for all hours of the trip, paying no heed to those around her just as they did her. Even so, she kept her senses on high alert - one could never be too cautious in these trying times - up to landing in the docking bay in Lessu.
The capital city didn't have the grandiose or might of other cities Dura had been to in the past (she could understand that after all the years of battle and conflict that had forced most of the Twi'lek populace underground), but there was something to be admired about a home built on the steep sides of a towering mountain that had endured time after time.
Aimless and almost certainly lost, Dura wandered up the spiralling streets in search for any sign of the Twi'lek commander her master had gained the support of. Cham Syndulla was a type of nobleman among his people, but that didn't guarantee that he would be living high above them. Would he still be dwelling underground after liberating his world from the enemy?
She avoided the eyes of the few clonetroopers stationed on guard around the ship ports, scanning for a more trustworthy source to inquire about Syndulla's location. By the time she neared the summit of the city, she was mulling over whether or not to accept the Force's guidance. Her heart tightened at the thought of feeling the emptiness again, but her mind rightfully reasoned that it was the best thing to do.
Breathing deeply and calming herself, Dura opened herself up and reached out. The frigidness was still present but she pushed past it, feeling for any presence of the man she was seeking. The energy flowed all around her, and much further. She felt many lives, barely touched upon, as she went further into the caverns and homes of these people. Some glowed brightly - maybe in another life they could have been padawans and Knights - while others were as dim as a faraway moon, but they were there. There was life within the Force still, even if she couldn't take the same comfort in them as she could with her family.
Cham Syndulla finally appeared through the Force after some time, buried deep in the caverns underneath the city along with dozens of others she guessed were his military comrades. Dura moved on through Lessu, keeping an open line to the Force - and Cham - until she found her way to a hidden entrance in the deserted parts of the city, far away from the prying eyes of diligent troopers.
She slipped into the underground and picked up her pace, trailing the dirt walls as she felt Syndulla's presence grow. Anxiety chipped at her as she thought of the prospect of him turning her away; she knew she could survive, but she needed an ally, or some kind of validation that she wasn't truly alone. She just needed something.
Dura felt a group moving toward her and snapped off her connection to the Force, hand hovering over her hidden lightsabers. It was more out of habit than an actual need to protect herself (though there was the slight chance it could come to that). Four Twi'lek guards entered the hallway, pointing blasters at Dura and surrounding her.
"I have come to see Cham Syndulla." She announced in broken Ryl, earning cautious looks and glares from the guards. "I mean no harm."
"What are your intentions?" A female Twi'lek stepped forward, blaster ready to fire at any minute. Dura held her hands up to her head, looking her straight on.
"Syndulla once allied himself with a close friend of mine. I have come to see if he will still honour the alliance in my time of need." She explained, which did nothing to move the blasters away from her. She was starting to feel like she was surrounded by clones rather than wary Twi'leks. Keep yourself grounded.
One of the other guards took a comm link from his belt and spoke into it, still watching Dura. An accented voice came through the comm loud and clear, prompting the guards to lower their weapons. Dura raised an eyebrow at them.
"You're coming with us." She nodded, keeping her arms up as they formed a circle around her and moved on down the cavern.
They marched for several long minutes before Dura was brought into a large open area in the caverns, where groups of Twi'lek were gathered together around tables and booths spread out across the floor, all speaking in their native tongue. One group in particular was located at the largest table in the centre, and they all turned towards her and the guards as they neared. Dura was pushed toward a tall Twi'lek man, donned in dark armour with long peach lekku hanging down his back. His strong features and stern stare made his position as leader all too obvious.
"Cham Syndulla." He nodded to the guards and they backed off, leaving him alone with Dura. She straightened herself and swallowed, squaring her feet assuringly. Now as not the time to crumble.
"I have heard that you wish to speak to me." He said bluntly in the accent she had heard on the comm earlier. "Say your piece."
No wonder Mace had considered him a great ally. She cleared her throat before speaking: "I am Dura Joti, born Depa Billaba, and raised as the padawan of Mace Windu-"
A spark of recognition flashed in Cham's eyes.
"-You allied yourself with my Master and liberated Ryloth from the Separatists together; I came here to ask that you honour that alliance once again."
"I have heard of the crimes the Jedi have committed against the Senate," Cham put his hands behind his back, posturing like the general he was. Dura felt her stomach drop but refused to back down. "I knew the Jedi better than most, and I know those crimes to be lies from the new Emperor."
"I sense you have more to say." Dura prodded, narrowing her eyes up at him.
"The Master Jedi," Cham glanced around her, frowning slightly. "He did not survive the attacks, did he?"
Dura pursed her lips and sighed through her nose, ignoring the gap of their bond. "He was the first to fall to Order 66."
"I see." He bowed his head, lekku barely swaying with any life. "My condolences. Your Master was not a man to disappoint me; I suppose that was admirable."
"Thank you, General." Dura nodded, chewing on her lip. Now was better than ever, right? "I need shelter from the Empire, until I can make my own place elsewhere in safety."
Cham studied her, taking in her disguise, trying to determine where she was hiding the evidence to her identity. Others around them were starting to take notice of the conversation and were waiting for their leader's response with baited breath. Dura could only guess what they thought of her.
"And you thought your relationship to your Master would guarantee that from me?" Cham asked, earning loud murmurs from the crowd. Dura braced herself; she should have known he would have responded like this. How could she have been so blind…?
"I only wished to ask, and let you know of why I came to you specifically," She willed her voice to stay steady and keep her gaze level to his. It was harder than she expected, but she was getting used to that kind of situation now. "I'll be frank with you: I have nowhere else to go. I can be of use to you."
"Harbouring a fugitive Jedi is a most risky move." Cham stepped forward, coming face-to-face with Dura and looking down at her. She tensed and clenched her jaw. "Doing so would turn Ryloth into a target, and put all of my people in extreme danger."
"The Empire is hunting Depa Billaba of the Jedi High Council," Dura replied in a quick breath, not sparing even a second. "Dura Joti is not what they are looking for."
"What use is another human to Ryloth?" Dura kept her eyes on Cham as he began to circle her. The crowd peered closer, putting them both on display. She suddenly felt like a padawan facing the Council of Masters, waiting for their decision on her trials. Except that now she was battling for a right of protection; her very life was on the line.
"I wasn't just a Jedi, Syndulla." She bit back, feeling all the eyes on her and standing higher for it. "I was a general, a student, a Master, and so much more. Those parts of me haven't died."
"Only the Jedi has?"
"She died with her padawan on Kaller at the dawn of the Empire's rise." Cham came in front of Dura again and their eyes met, both as hard and determined as the other. An eerie silence fell between them and Dura felt at ease in it, remembering the times she spent hours and hour debating with Mace about the Order and the Code.
Cham broke off from Dura to glance over into the crowd and she followed, spotting several young children peeking through the legs of the adults surrounding them. His eyes softened and he put a hand on her shoulder.
"Then take this chance to prove that you have a place here." Cham said loudly, echoing throughout the chamber. The crowd spoke up, hands and blasters in the air, inducting Dura to their cause and their lives. She breathed in new energy into her lungs at long last, finally grasping just a sliver of the stability she was wishing for.
0XX0
Dura was given food, drink and a temporary place to sleep until something else could be secured for her in the city. She had no possessions to decorate her new space with, so she just placed her lightsabers and holocron on the cot, and took out Caleb's braid to lay in her palms.
This kind of attachment was exactly what she had been taught to let go of and avoid in the weeks after Sar's death, and with the guidance of the Council it had been easy enough. But now, on her own with no support?
Letting go was the last thing she wanted to do to Caleb.
A soft knock on her door stirred Dura out of her thoughts and she put the braid away, calling for the visitor to enter. The door opened slowly and a young Twi'lek girl stepped in shyly, peering up at Dura with her bright green eyes that matched her skin and vibrant energy radiating through the Force. She wasn't Force-Sensitive, no, but she shone like any innocent life did.
"Hello, little one." Dura greeted, walking over to the door to kneel in front of the girl. To her credit, she didn't flinch away from the tall stranger. "Who are you?"
"I'm Hera." The girl said in a high-pitched voice that made her sound much younger than she probably was. She moved away from the door, letting it close behind her, and fiddled with her long fingers. "Are you a human?"
"Chalactans are Near-Human, so not really." Dura pulled back her headscarf to show off her two forehead jewels to Hera, who was pouting. "Buuut, there's not a huge difference to be honest. No one can tell us apart unless you ask."
Hera beamed again, staring in awe at the jewels and at her long hair flowing over her shoulder. Her fingers twitched in excitement and she bounced on her bare heels.
"Have you ever flown a star ship?"
"Not personally, but I have flown through space."
"What's it like, being so high? Do pilots get to do all those spinny tricks the Jedi ships did on the droids? What kind of ships are there? Lotsa big ones? Thin ones?"
Dura's heart shouldn't have throbbed in pain as she listened to Hera pile question after question onto her, but she couldn't help but compare her to the youngling she had watched in Kenobi's class all those months ago. The one who had asked in order to better understand what he had been taught, while this young girl begged to be taught anything about the ships and stars she loved so much.
"I suppose you like starships, then?" Dura asked. Hera nodded and laughed softly.
"I wanna fly up there when I grow up." Hera twiddled her thumbs, swaying her lekku over her shoulders. "I'll have my own ship and crew too!"
Dura smiled, rubbing Hera's head as if she had hair. "You'll make a wonderful pilot."
"You think so?" Hera beamed again, shining so brightly that Dura was tempted to close her eyes. She didn't; who knew when (or if) she'd see a light like this ever again.
"I know so." Dura tapped Hera's nose with her finger and then pushed herself up onto her feet, dusting off her knees (how could they be so sore already? She was barely 37). Hera kept watching her from her spot as Dura sat down on her cot, attaching her lightsabers to her belt. She'd have to figure out a better way of hiding them on her person.
She glanced over to Hera, raising an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't you get back to your parents, little one?" Hera shrugged and shifted on her feet. "I'm sure they're worried about you."
Hera shrugged again and grunted, then moved closer to her. Dura sat down on her cot, resting her chin in her palm.
"Have you met a human before?" She asked. Hera jumped, cheeks flushing immediately as she shook her head and averted her eyes. Dura just smiled again, patting the spot on the cot next to her. Hera ran over and jumped up to sit.
"What would you like to know?"
0XX0
It had been well over a month since Caleb had died and Dura's life had been turned upside down, but it had felt like years since arriving on Ryloth. The freedom fighters were only in their early stages of planning their fight against the Empire (it was hard to plan so far ahead when the only hint of a hostile takeover was rising numbers of clonetroopers stationed in Lessu and the surrounding towns), and Dura was only just making herself accustomed to the way of life in the underground.
Cham had told her that if she wasn't going to fight like a Jedi (she was sure she heard disappointment in his voice), then she should learn to aim a blaster or train herself with another weapon. Dura agreed and found a pair of old short swords to practice, along with a warrior who was willing to train her (fighting in lightsaber forms would be a dead giveaway, no matter what she tried to hide it).
It was during one of the training sessions that a young Twi'lek brought a radio and scanning equipment to the edge of the sparring ring to work on. It wasn't enough to distract the lesson, so Dura ignored it for the most part.
Until a new voice broke an Imperial news broadcast.
"Attention, citizens of the Outer Rim Territories!" A male voice came through the static bursts. He was young but his strength came through his words. "This message is being broadcast to you all to reveal the lies and slander the Empire has been feeding us since its inception. We must rise up! We cannot stand for a corrupt government that controls its citizens through fear and deceit…"
Dura went through the motions of defending herself from her partner's blows, all attention focused on the voice speaking out between flashes of Imperial reports and attempts to shut it off. It finally faded out into an announcement from Governor Tarkin, which was quickly tuned out. All three of them stared at the radio speaker, wrapping their heads around what they had just heard.
We're not alone.
0XX0
The broadcasts had no schedule or pattern, even to the point of switching the speaker to a woman every now and then. When they started in the day, when many were in the caverns, a group would gather around the radio to listen in before the Empire blocked out the inspiring words.
Dura got herself a small speaker to pick up transmissions from the main radio on base so she could listen in her private quarters. Needless to say, the words against the Empire had become a highlight in her routine even though she had only heard them a handful of times.
There were allies out there, willing to stand and fight against the new rulers. The technicians had speculated that the source of the broadcasts were from an Outer Rim planet, close to the Mid Rim to have been affected by the Empire already. Even so, the Emperor had barely gone anywhere near this territory in his conquest of the galaxy (Ryloth was one of the few planets to have a senator on Coruscant; one who gave up their power to the Empire as soon as possible.
Ryloth had already been declared a protectorate - controlled but autonomous. Cham wouldn't let anyone believe a word of it and encouraged stronger movement to rebel for the good of their home).
Whoever these brave people were, they were hardly in the same position of danger from the Empire as those in the Core Worlds were. Yet they made themselves public enemies by speaking out so early and vigorously.
They truly believed in freedom, and Dura felt at ease with her new bearings. She could fight knowing that she wasn't doing it alone. Remembering the words took away the loneliness.
Never for long, though.
Even working alongside the Twi'lek freedom fighters didn't stave off that worrisome feeling. With the shift in powers from the senator, Hutt slavers had been using the slip in attention to kidnap hundreds of Twi'leks to ship off for sale. Cham's clan had already seen over two thousand taken off-planet for horrors untold; he wouldn't allow anymore to be ripped from their loved ones if he could help it.
When reports came flooding in that slavers were raiding a small town a few miles east of Lessu, Dura volunteered herself to help counter them and free captives. Cham had initially debated her on the matter, but she persevered and was allowed to go.
The slavers were rioting through the town streets and taking whoever they could grab by the time the rescue team arrived. Not a moment was spared once their speeders stopped. Dura held onto her blades (a pair of vibroblades smuggled into Lessu) and sped through the streets, cutting down anyone she saw without lekku in search for transports they were using.
The Force prodded at her, pushing her one way or the other. Dura cut it off, resisting any guidance from the universal life that had lied to her, and made her way to the edge of the town. A transport, full to the brink with newfound slaves, was being started up by a pair of Siniteens in a hurry to escape wrathful Twi'leks.
She yelled at them, scaring them out of their wits, and rushed toward the transport with blades ready to end the conflict. The engine roared into life and they accelerated into the volcanic plainlands. Dura kept up the chase.
She ran faster than most thought possible, taking advantage of the rugged landscape to catch up to the transport when the holes and bumps forced the slavers to slow down, lest they crash and lose their payment. Her breathing became heavy, but she kept going, only just able to hear the cries of the Twi'leks inside.
The transport swerved around a large mound but Dura did not follow their curve. She went up the hill and sprang up into the air as the vehicle resumed its path. Time seemed to slow down as she slammed her blades into the thick metal and gripped onto the roof with her boots. The cries became louder as the transport tried to shake her off. Dura pulled her blades out, crawling closer to the drivers pit at the front. Strong winds blew against her, working with the slavers to rid them of her. She growled and held onto the growling metal until she was close enough to pierce a blade into the hull, hitting something solid underneath.
Control was lost and Dura slipped over to face the drivers, seeing that she had stabbed the shoulder of the one behind the wheel. They stared in fear of her, spinning the controls wildly. She didn't let go, only tightening as she threw down her second blade into the engine.
The fear grew and the transport spluttered, roared and groaned all at once before smoking and tilting dangerously. Dura put her weight on the opposite side, as did the slavers.
"Cut the engine and surrender!" She ordered in her most threatening voice, which did the trick. Power was cut and the brakes were activated, slowing the transport down enough for Dura to retrieve her blades safely and jump off. She just about tore the doors off their hinges and dragged each Siniteen out, staring them down into submission before going to the hold's doors.
She broke the locks with a slash of a blade and opened the doors wide, looking inside at the faces of dozens of terrified Twi'lek men, women and children. They were all chained together at the ankle and had their hands cuffed as well, tethering them to the wall. She frowned at the sight and shattered the chains at the wall first.
"You're free to return home," Dura said loudly, stepping aside as the front of the crowd moved out into the open, sighing relief. "Is anybody injured?"
A few voices rose up, announcing deep grazes and twisted ankles - nothing too serious. The slavers should consider themselves lucky. Dura went over to them, smirking when she saw that they hadn't moved. The key to the locks were hanging off the injured Siniteen's belt and she swiped them, glaring them down once again. She unlocked the cuffs and chains off a few before giving them keys to sort out.
Dura looked over the transport as she put her blades in their sheath (her lightsaber was still hidden inside it, thank Force; Caleb's was separated and attached to her belt). There was no way it was going to drive them anywhere now, they would have to walk back to the town… which was now a couple miles away.
She sighed, glancing over the free Twi'leks celebrating quietly over their rescue, and smiled. This is what a Jedi was: a protector of the innocent. Not a general or commander, but someone who served the people of the galaxy. After years of broiling in war, it was only now that she had run from the Order (what was there left to run from, honestly?) that she felt like she fit the role.
She allowed herself a small smile, but peace was still far from her mind.
0XX0
Returning to the base that day was met with words of congratulation and a nod of acknowledgement (Cham's speciality). As higher officers gathered together to plan patrol routes and guard shifts for nearby towns and villages, as well as contact cell leaders elsewhere on Ryloth, Dura retreated to her own quarters to put up her feet. She would have stayed behind, but she felt out of place among Cham's people.
As she neared her room, Dura felt a twinge at the back of her mind. She slowed down, staying near the wall, and looked around the cave. There were a few citizens walking about calmly, and no one else.
She kept moving, pushing back on that feeling until she reached her door. Then it refused to stay locked up.
A breathing mask flashed in front of her eyes, encompassing her entire vision. Its eyes were static grey slabs - cold - and the mechanical face was nothing but sharp fury personified. A red light cut down a thousand screams, growing and engulfing more lives than she could count.
The vision released her and she gasped for air, tumbling through her door and slipping into the room before she was seen. Dura leaned against the door for support, collecting herself as more images came to her.
She knew the presence she was seeing: the Dark Side. She had felt this one before, a lifetime ago when it clashed with the Light on the fire world. It had won. She rested her head on her knees, closing her eyes.
A yellow-eyed Pau'an materialised in her sight, dressed in the same black hatred, and holding a red lightsaber. A Darth? No, but the Jedi heads he was collecting in front of her told her he was just as dangerous. Padawans shrouded in darkness followed him, baring their teeth in sadistic smiles at the fallen bodies at their feet.
Dura forced herself away from the vision this time, heaving for breath - anything to fill her lungs. She wrapped her arms around her legs, staring out over the room and willing herself to stop shaking (she couldn't stop, she couldn't stop them…).
Why would you show me this? Why?
A soothing hum flowed over her, steadying her and pouring reassurance into her mind. It reached into her and she saw another life. A young man, flying in the stars; surrounded by loving family… all while grasping Caleb's lightsaber.
No!
She jumped up and marched to her cot, away from the light of home that was so desperately trying to pull her back.
"Don't you dare… don't you dare betray me again."
It reached for her again. She cut it off, gritting her teeth to stop a harsh sob from coming out. She had moved past the initial denial, straight into the anger. At the Force, the Order, the Empire. Herself, most of all. It sulked at the edges of her mind, waiting for an outburst (she had almost let it win when she fought the slavers).
She was scared as well. Downright terrified of what would happen if she unleashed her anger. She knew she could not (and should not) suppress her emotions, but she didn't know if the anger would pass. Or if it would hold onto her until she fell to the Dark Side again. Anything but that.
Was this why the Order discouraged open emotion? It made sense. This kind of pain could send anybody away from the Light.
Dura would persevere, she knew it. She had to. She just didn't know how yet.
0XX0
Time passed for Dura, and her routine slowly became life. Cham had given her a 'permanent' position on the local rescue team, and she knew that he had more-or-less accepted her as her own person. Words were never said about it, but she knew that he wanted to judge her away from the reputation of her Master. He at least trusted her enough to guard his oldest daughter, Hera, when she went out for paying jobs that would get her, her own freighter ship one day.
She swapped her long vibroblades for a dual short sword, which she fitted with a vibrogenerator and an electric taser on each blade (some younglings asked her if she was a rogue Kage warrior during a sparring session one day; she'd smiled sadly). Her lightsabers were only touched in the rare moments she attempted to meditate with the holocron, otherwise they were kept hidden in her sword sheath and belts.
Her look changed as well. Her once simple outfit was added to continuously, and Hera had even experimented with her hair (she had seen some on the pirated Holonet and desperately wanted to replicate them), giving her a stylish way to hide her Chalactan culture by tying her headscarf into a long braid over her shoulder (the little imp had given her a green scarf too, just to leave her signature somewhere) with a ring crown to hold it down. She brought herself some shoulder plating and bits of armour to give her as much protection as possible without slowing her down in battle.
Green was slowly becoming her own trademark colour.
The broadcasts continued as well. Dura was glad to hear the voices every time, knowing that the Empire hadn't found them yet. Not for lack of trying; Dura had seen troopers publically destroy a family's radio set when the broadcast came through on it. The Outer Rim rebels were enemy number one, and Dura couldn't be more proud.
Until the day she heard something troubling during a transmission.
She and several others had gathered around the radio to listen in, as per usual. It started as it normally would, giving a brief synopsis of the Empire's activities within the Outer Rim and then ripping them apart. As they were explaining violent Imperial movement on Lasan, a distant cry sounded in the background, only to be cut off by a burst of static.
Dura sat up to attention, leaning toward the speakers. "Can you go back? I heard something?"
The young Twi'lek looked over her equipment and nodded hesitantly. "Only a few seconds."
"That's all I need."
Those seconds were played again and Dura heard the cry, even more clear now that she was focusing on it. "Did you hear that?"
"Probably just some street noise." Someone in the back piped up.
"No no, it was a person." Dura furrowed her brows, biting down on her knuckle in concentration. "I'm sure of it."
"It sounded like a baby." A woman stepped forward, carrying her own young on her hip. Dura glanced between her and the radio, comparing the two sounds. Worst of all, she was right.
"Bantha fodder…" She cursed under her breath, slouching forward in her seat. The Twi'leks around her began to mutter in Ryl and a few came closer to her, asking all sorts of questions. What did this mean? Why did it matter? Was the baby important?
"It means," She started loudly, quieting those around her. "that they have far more to lose than they anticipate."
Voices rose up again, panic starting to settle in. These rebels were suddenly mortal to them; able to be taken down like any of them in a single moment. The baby could be used against them, one argued. Their love for the child would strengthen their resolve, another said. It went back and forth, all while Dura stared at nothing.
No, they just had someone who could be taken away from them.
0XX0
It was following a morning shower that Dura found grey hairs intertwined with her dark waves. She stared at them in the mirror, pulling them away for a closer inspection. The strands were a natural, dark grey, blending in nicely in their infancy.
Had she really been here that long?
She had seen other signs of the passage of time, of course. Hera had grown in a lovely young woman, as had the other children Dura had come to know. The Empire's presence on Ryloth had grown (she had helped bomb no less than ten Imperial stations) and their control had tightened, all while telling the Senate that the local government had given permission for everything. Cham himself was certainly not getting any younger, but his zeal for freedom had never diminished.
Her thoughts drifted to Caleb, as they did on the days she wasn't distracted enough. Were Styles and Grey still active? Killed in the line of duty? Still hunting for her? She had seen the clones become obsolete in the Empire's grand plan, and stormtroopers had taken their place. She was glad; they were easier to cut down. Dura, for all her luck and fortune, had managed to evade Jedi hunters in this part of the Territories. Closing herself off from the Force (no matter how grueling it was) and sticking to her dual blades had kept suspicious eyes off her.
She was still scared of the hunters, down to her core. Especially the Pau'an she saw in her nightmarish visions.
A loud knock came from the door, along with a voice. "Dura? There's a line out here!"
"Coming, one moment!" She dried off her hair quickly, clipped her belts on and zipped up her boots with not a moment wasted. She unlocked the communal shower doors and walked out, seeing Hera waiting for her with a few disgruntled women.
"Good morning." Hera greeted as she and Dura walked away from the showers. The young Twi'lek was donned in her most rustic shirt and pants, with only her brand new headset and goggles giving away her plans for the day.
"Are you excited?" Dura asked, smiling at Hera. She laughed and nodded, biting down on her lip to trap down an even louder giggle. "I thought so."
"Wouldn't you be? My first ship! I'll be able to go out there, fight the big fight against the Empire!" Hera pumped her fist in the air, practically buzzing with energy for her new lot in life.
She had spent years working jobs and trading around the planet to pay for the old light freighter ship she now owned. It was a beaten up VCX-100 model, with a few modifications added to it that Hera was proud to say she did all by herself. She had no crew or astromech yet to help her, but Dura knew she would attract them in time.
Her only obstacle was Cham's opinion of Hera leaving. He viewed it as her abandoning her family for a fight that wasn't her's (Dura knew he was worried about not being able to keep her safe at home, but he couldn't lock her up). Many loud arguments had been heard throughout the catacombs, and in the end, Hera defied him and made plans to meet up with rebel informants.
Dura didn't like it either; Hera was as much a light in her life as her padawan had been, but she knew that the girl was meant for bigger and brighter things. She had a destiny too important to ignore.
The Empire would learn to fear her name.
"Do remember that you have people here, Hera." Dura said, stopping at the open end of the cave. Hera sighed, heaving her shoulders back and giving her a soft look.
"I know, I know. I'll drop by to visit, I promise."
"Good."
"And I'll call every week to let you know I'm alive."
"You think you're so glib, don't you?" Dura gave Hera a dirty look, to which she smirked and shrugged. Dura slapped her arm and Hera burst out laughing. She shook her head and wondered aloud what she had done to deserve such an insolent child.
"I'll be fine, Dura." Hera said after getting her last laugh out, placing a hand on her shoulder to squeeze it. "You've got a comm link to my ship if you need me to hurry back."
"I'm not that desperate." But she smiled anyway. "Make those Imps run from your shadow, sei ercio."
"They'll be wishing they'd never taken over the galaxy when I'm done with them."
They laughed and shared their farewells, making promises to each other that they both knew weren't certain to be kept. As Hera left the underground for the last time, Dura felt lonelier than ever before.
0XX0
It had been about five months by the time anyone noticed that the infamous Bridger Transmissions had come to a complete halt. Dura heard it from the curious radio technicians first and came to realise it as truth when she found the usual broadcast waves to be eerily silent. No static, no humming or buzzing. Just nothing.
The technicians all testified that the signal hadn't been blocked. The Bridgers had most likely been taken into custody by the Empire, to be executed or suffer for their rallying cries for freedom from tyranny.
Spirits sunk at the news. They had seen this coming, but they had all hoped it would stay speculation, instead of an evening report. Cham encouraged them all to focus on their mission to free Ryloth and intercept the incoming Imperial transmissions for any sign of the Emperor's grip tightening on their world (there was rumour that the Emperor and one of his top men would be heading to Ryloth to crush them in due time, but nothing had come through Cham's inside sources.
If it came to be true, Dura knew she'd have to leave permanently).
Without her reassurance, Dura spent the rest of the day in her surface home. She sat in a meditative pose in her bedroom, lightsabers and holocron sitting opposite her on the floor. Questions flooded her mind, all half-answered and overbearing her.
Her time on Ryloth was coming to a close, and in the past seven years, she had never given herself a single moment to plan for this. Burdened by her warring feelings over Caleb's death, she had gone to distracting herself from thinking about him. She had run from her problem, in the hopes of finding an answer along the way.
All she had done was leave it to grow wild. She had been utterly foolish to do so. She had been blinded to reason, and there was a chance it could ruin her should she face it now.
One day, when she had no one to worry about, but now she needed a bit of guidance. She hadn't opened up to the Force willingly in many moons, only pushing it out when it filled her nights with killers and a future that never happened. She had no one else to turn to. The burning grazes of blaster shots fired up on her back and shoulders, and she shuddered them away.
Fool me once, shame on you…
Dura sat up straight and breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and giving in. She willed the Force to return to her, surround her, keep her safe. A warm hold enveloped her, wrapping her in arms she had rejected for so long. She almost fell into a sleep, but jolted and regained her focus: Where do I go?
A string of static and words broke Dura's concentration and she held in her gasp, twisting around to find the source. Her radio, somehow switched on all the way on the opposite side of the room, was blaring noise after noise.
"Typical." She grumbled, getting up to turn it off. As she reached for the switch, however, a voice came through before she made contact.
"Som-od-Somebody h-help…" A child's voice. Dura froze, even as the wave went quiet again. She remembered that baby's cries, years ago. Was he safe? His parents had been taken or killed - he was alone, and calling out to the void for help. The Empire would go after him in no time (they'd shoot him down like they shot Caleb; they would have no mercy).
The living Force worked around her again and she reached for her comm link to Hera without thinking.
"Captain, I need a ride."
0XX0
Dura sat in the cockpit of Hera's as-of-yet unnamed ship (she had heard about three since coming on board) and twirled her holocron in her hands. She had reached out to the Force and it had given her a frightened child calling for help. It had a reason, she knew it. She stayed cautious; an old habit died hard.
Hera watched her from the pilot's seat, having put the ship on autopilot with no destination. They were heading away from Ryloth and that was it. She was just waiting for Dura to give her an end goal to this sudden detour (right in the middle of a mission to get in touch with the elusive Fulcrum too; but Dura never called for help, so she knew she had to drop everything for her).
The older woman exhaled slowly, holding her holocron up in the air until it floated by itself. It opened up, spreading out to reveal a shining core. A hologram of a star map burst out to fill the air with a blue glow. Hera watched the stars and systems move about; she recognised a few of them, but it was mostly outdated. By several centuries.
Dura called out to the Force again, almost praying for a happier ending than she anticipated. She felt herself, as Depa Billaba, re-emerging to find a path to the boy.
The map shifted and spun, flying through dozens of systems in the Outer Rim and Wild Space before settling in the west of the Core Worlds, near the Mid Rim. A planet orbiting a large sun followed by twin moons was zoomed in on, and Hera leaned in closer.
"That's Lothal." She confirmed, looking over to Dura who hadn't yet moved. "The Empire's made a big move there in the past few years. Completely ruined the ecosystem and farming economy with their mining activities."
"Go." Was all Dura said, and it was all Hera needed. Setting the coordinates for Lothal, the ship made the jump into hyperspace easily.
0XX0
Dura didn't know much about Lothal, other than what Hera had told her as they landed outside Capital City. A planet falling into disarray from the Empire's meddling and lies of a greener tomorrow, if only they accept their government.
The city had the Empire's bloodied fingerprints all over it, though only Hera really paid attention to it. Dura was leading her through the streets, following the path the Force was leading her down. It was a risk on her part to so easily go back to it, but her heart refused to let the Empire dig its claws into the innocent boy all on his own. For his protection, she would find him first (to even out the score? To throw off the immense guilt she had been drowning in since life left Caleb's eyes?).
Hera followed Dura down to an abandoned street, covered in dust, grime and blaster soot. A house at the end of the street - boarded up recently - had seen the worst of it. Dura headed toward it, finally drifting out of her trance and taking in her surroundings.
"I'll go in," She said. "Guard out here and look out for Imps."
Hera nodded, adjusting her goggles and pulling her small blaster out of its hidden holster. Dura looked over the boarded up door to the home, nudging the wood gently until one came away with little persuasion. She could barely fit into the gap but slipped into the darkness of what had once been a cosy family home.
Unable to adjust her sight to the shadows, Dura pulled out her lightsaber (it was safe; she could hide it if she heard trouble) and ignited it. Green light flooded the main room and she saw the full extent of the mess. Furniture smashed and turned over, precious belongings scattered everywhere… A brawl had taken place here.
"Hello?" She called out, walking further into the home like it was sacred ground. She cleared her throat and tried again, listening for any signal of the boy.
"I heard your transmission. You called for help." She lifted her lightsaber toward the kitchen, but it was worse than a trash compactor in there.
Then she heard it. A movement in the Force, a shuffling of bare feet underneath her own. There was a hidden level beneath her. A perfect hiding spot from anyone looking to shoot down a scared boy.
"I won't hurt you, I promise." A few seconds later, a rug in the middle of the room shifted and lifted up under the power of a heavy hatch door. Dura crept closer, holding her lightsaber up to illuminate the underground vault.
A boy stood on the ladder heading down, shielding his eyes from the light. Dura moved it away, and he looked up at her with wide, wet blue eyes. They stared at each other in silence, and Dura knew, from the years of Jedi training and bonding with padawans: This boy was Force Sensitive.
He wiped at his eyes, never steering away from her, and sniffed. Neither moved.
"Are you alright?" Dura asked, her voice hushed and gentle. He looked like a youngling straight out from the Creche, jumping at every loud noise and looking for a Master's shelter wherever they went. The boy nodded curtly, still studying her.
"You're safe now, sweetling." She said, smiling and kneeling down by the hatch. The lightsaber was put aside and she showed her hands to him. "I've come to take you away from the Empire."
He shifted on his feet before moving up the ladder and into her arms. She pulled him out of the hole and settled him between the messes, getting a good look. He was dirty all over, barefoot, and his clothes had a few ripped holes in them. He looked dangerously thin too, prompting her to pull a ration bar from her jacket and give it to him.
He snatched it and tore the wrapping off, biting down into the dull tasting block of nutrition and protein. He inhaled it in a blur and wiped his mouth clean, wiping off a layer of dust off his cheeks too. Dura picked out bits of dirt and broken stone out of his dark hair, grimacing at the tangled knots she tugged at.
The Force had led her to him, and for good reason. If the Empire caught wind of this boy's power, who knows what they would do to him? They could torture him, kill him, or turn him into the padawans she saw in her visions. She couldn't let this boy come to harm, ever.
"Who are you?" The boy asked innocently.
"De-Dura. I'm Dura." She answered, picking up her lightsaber again and holding it aloft. "I listened to your parents' broadcasts. I owe them my thanks."
"Do you know where they are?" He asked, eyes wider and full of hope. Dura's breath caught in her throat, almost choking her. A young boy, no more than six or seven, who just wanted his parents back.
"I don't know, I'm sorry." It was better to be honest than crush his hopes, she reasoned. His face fell and tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to fall. "I can help you find out what happened to them, dear, but we have to get you away first."
She held out her hand to him, reaching out in the Force to comfort him. If it couldn't help her, it could at least do something for him. He stared at it, the energy around him swirling like a growing tempest of Light and Dark. He could be powerful, if trained, but her days as a Master were over.
His small hand grasped her fingers tightly and she held onto him as she stood up, keeping her lightsaber far away from his curious touch. In the Force, she felt his growing trust in her, and for the first time in years she didn't feel inclined to push it away. She held onto it, reaching out to him in hopes of comforting him from the world's harshness, and called out to Hera for a mission accomplished.
0XX0
When they got back to the ship some time later (after running circles around stormtroopers in an effort to stay incognito), Hera took the boy into the washroom and left Dura to take them up into orbit. She went through her plan - make a pit-stop at Ryloth, say her goodbyes, then make her way to Takodana - and set the ship's coordinates for autopilot.
Dura got up and headed towards the back, listening in on the muffled chatter coming from the shower stall. There was a giggle here and there, so nothing was going south. She was thankful for that, at least.
She waited for them to come out, sorting through a pile of clothes Hera had left lying around the ship. Most of them wouldn't fit a boy so small, but they could work something out until she could get actual child-sized clothes and shoes. She set a tunic shirt, a belt and a pair of shorts aside, assured in her lack of fashion sense.
She slipped the outfit into the wash room and let Hera carry on. She had a natural knack for mothering children, being one of the oldest teenagers in her entire clan, and had taken to the Bridger boy the moment she set eyes on him. Dura felt a sense of deja vu, but she couldn't recall where from. She didn't have time to ponder on that thought as the two youngsters came barreling out into the cockpit.
"Careful, Ezra, you haven't got shoes on!" Hera said as the boy, Ezra, bounded up to the front seats and looked out at the passing stars. His mouth fell open and his eyes practically sparkled.
"We're in space!"
Dura glanced to Hera, raising an eyebrow; you got his name? She nodded and lifted Ezra into the co-pilot's seat before sitting down herself. He kept staring out, leaning up to peer over the controls and dashboard.
Dura sat down behind them, looking over Ezra quickly. Hera had done a thorough job cleaning him up and washing his hair, leaving him spotless, if a little silly in his over-sized clothes. It didn't matter, really; they were temporary.
Hera kept Ezra occupied as they went in and out of hyperspace to Ryloth, while Dura prepared herself for what was to come. She knew Cham would attempt to make her stay (she was a valuable fighter, he had told her; they couldn't lose her easily. Dura told him that his movement wasn't a very strong one if her absence would affect them so heavily), and others would take his side. They had grown attached to her, and she would be lying if she said she hadn't done the same.
But this was for the best. She was in charge of another life again, and Ryloth wasn't where he would be safe. Takodana would find them a few well-paying jobs and ships to live on from time to time. It wasn't the most comfortable life, especially for a distraught child, but it was the safest for a Force Sensitive one.
Hera landed the ship in the Lessu city's ports and Dura ran out, promising to return in a few parsecs, leaving the pilot to babysit (not that she minded). Dura made fast work of going to her home and stuffing her very few possessions into a duffel bag (she had never made a habit of decorating or collecting things; it would just slow her down if she ever had to leave in a hurry, like now) and called Cham on her hologram projector.
"Dura, you've come back." Was the first thing he said upon answering her call. She stood in front of his small projection, crossing her arms.
"I'm leaving."
"...Is that so?"
"Yes." He was already trying to drag this out, she could feel it. She hung her bag over her shoulder, making a show of it. "I'm truly grateful for everything you've done for me, but you knew my stay here was never meant to carry out this long. It's best that I go before I'm found out by the Empire."
"I suppose so." He said, glancing over to a datapad of reports. "You are aware of what you are doing-"
"Cham, I know you want me fighting for this planet but I can't afford the risks of staying." She snapped, growing more tired than she should have. "The Empire has Jedi hunters spread out across the galaxy, and it's only by a small miracle I haven't ended up dead by their hands yet."
"If that's how you feel, I can't stop you." Cham narrowed his eyes at her, obviously displeased at her tone. She knew it was the wrong approach to take with the general, but she had to make herself clear. And this way, maybe the Empire wouldn't believe there was a deep enough connection between them to warrant torturing him for information about her and a boy he didn't know about.
"If something comes up, I'll call you." She offered. He only nodded, muttering quietly in Ryl.
"Free Ryloth." She said in his native tongue before cutting off the link and stashing the projector into her bag. A huge weight rolled off her shoulders and she breathed freely once more, even if her heart did feel heavy. It was for the best, she reminded herself over and over.
She only hoped that it worked.
