Author Notes: Updated as of 7/24/2014
Chapter 9
Barriss blinked open her eyes in an instant, her mind suddenly awake. The images of her nightmare began to fade slowly into the back of her mind to be replaced with the view of her own pale face reflected in the rippling grey durasteel of the bottom of the top bunk. Her mauve tattoos stood out against her face, the diamonds speckled against her cheek bones like giant, oddly exact freckles. She let out a shuddering breath, rubbing her eyes and staring up at her expression in the hopes of washing away the remnants of the dream. She could still see the dried traces of tears of her cheeks and feeling them watering in her overly bright blue eyes. Unable to sit still for another moment she jerked upright, twisting onto her elbow to see if she had woken anyone during the course of her nightmare, but the long, sparse, barracks were nearly empty. Across from her, Ferus slept on. He was snoring softly, his face relaxed in sleep, he looked about twelve. His thick, dusty blond hair fluttered slightly, the golden streak rising and falling in time with his breath. His arm had slipped out of the bed and his had now lay upon the cool ground, his fingers curled in the air.
Getting up as fast and as quietly as she could manage, Barriss crawled out of the rather warm bed, shivering as goosebumbs littered her bare arms. She snuck unto the nearest bathroom, grabbing her clothes from a heap where she just barely remembered leaving them. She had just finished piling her hair under her headdress when another girl walked in. "Hello," She smiled as she tucked in one escaped strand of hair. "My name's Barriss Offee," she received a brilliant smile in return.
"I know," The girl's dark skin flushed in embarrassment, and she nervously flattened her clothes. "I'm Mallory," She brushed her long dark hair out of her face. "I saw you fighting, you're really good!" Barriss inclined her head politely. She had always found situations like this to be rather odd, she was just doing her job; she didn't need to be celebrated for that, but she smiled all the same. There were several seconds of awkward silence while she struggled to find something to say to fill the sudden quiet. So she said the first thing that popped into her head.
"Where is everyone?" Barriss inquired, inspecting her headdress in one of the mirror.
"They're all in the mess hall for breakfast, or brunch." She added as she looked at her chrono. Mallory looked up and gave another smile as Barriss turned to go. "Thank you," Barriss paused, turning around. "Thank you for helping us, you saved us."
"It was no problem at all," Barriss said quietly as she walked out. Thinking about how nice it was that someone has remembered to thank her. It was incredible how often that small courtesy was forgotten. Her thoughts continued in that direction, as she walked, but she suddenly stopped, letting out a hiss of breath. That wasn't right. She wasn't supposed to do things for thanks or appreciation; she wasn't supposed to want that or even to think about it. She was just supposed to do what was right and good, and get nothing out of it, not asking anything in return. It might a simple thing, to want a thank you, but the temptations of the dark side started out small, it started simple and it never started out seeming evil. Now, with the Force twisted and mangled by the dark side, even the slightest misstep could cause her to fall.
She tried to clear her mind as she walked past the noisy mess hall to the sick bay, washing the thoughts of pride and satisfaction from her mind. Hunger could wait; she wanted to check on those that she had healed the previous night. Barriss walked past a window into the yard and was surprised to see the brilliant sunlight shining from high in the heavens, the day was already half gone. She had hoped to wake up sooner, and had thought that she had told her body to do just that. It appeared that there was another area that she needed more improvement to regain her former abilities. She used to be able to wake herself up at whatever prearranged time she had set, no matter the conditions.
Barriss walked through the swinging doors of the med-bay, coming abruptly face to face with Obi-wan. Taking a half-step backwards to give her room to enter, he smiled at her, thought the shadow of sorrow still glazed his eyes. She gave him what she hoped was a cheerful smile in return, before looking past him towards the bacta tanks and the beds, trying to assess all the injured rapidly with the Force. "How are you?" Obi-wan asked, and she looked back into his eyes, surprised by the concern in his voice.
"I'm perfectly alright." Barriss responded, frown creasing her forehead as she thought. It deepened as she realized why he was asking. "What did Ferus tell you?" She failed to keep the accusatory note out of her voice.
"He's just concerned about you Barriss, there's no need to blame him." Some of the teacher he had once been was evident in his done. "We've all seen too much," he continued in a softer voice, but she bristled all the same. "Some people need a bit of help, that's all." He was staring at her, watching for her reaction, his mind pressing up against hers. A flash of annoyance flooded her before she could force it away. They were only trying to look out for her; they weren't saying that she was weak, not yet. If she told them however, their story might take a different tack. Barriss felt that she was fine, she had been dealing with it for years, and she felt she could keep dealing with it until it went away for good.
"I'm fine." She answered in a voice of forced calm, realizing that she had been staring at him for several long moments. Unable to meet his eyes again, she edged past him, feeling his gaze on her back as she went to the nearest bacta tank, laying her tattooed hands on the transparisteel, feeling the life-force within and trying to judge whether the patient's wounds had healed enough for her to leave. She wanted to get some others in the tanks. She selected the five most healed at the end of her walk and pulled them out, doing a quick examination before sending them on their way, along with those with injuries that had just required them to spend the night with a couple of bacta patches. She filled the healing tanks with more injured and looked around the emptier room. No one was going to die under her care this time.
Her stomach had long since begun to rumble constantly, and had recently been filled with the minor stabbing pains of hunger, outside, shadows were beginning to reappear as the sun passed its zenith. The mess hall was nearly empty as she entered it, but Ferus had awoken finally and was eating at a table in the middle of the hall, surrounded by people. She could do no more than catch a glimpse of his light brown hair as she walked around the small crowed to the food station where she grabbed up all the least greasy food she could find before choosing an empty tale some distance from the mass orbiting the ex-Jedi. She didn't feel like talking to any of them at that moment, she didn't think she had the energy required to make conversation. Instead, she sat in silence, eating her food and ridding herself of emotion, trying to untie the knots of stress, anger and fear that had snarled inside her mind.
She didn't notice Ferus sitting down across from her until he spoke. "Good morning." Her eyes flashed open in surprise and she blinked at him. The crowd appeared to have left for now. It was just the two of them. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, plaintive note in his voice as he pushed the hair out of his eyes.
"You needed the rest," she explained, her voice coming out far more quiet and weary than she had thought it would. "It was a very long day," she hoped that he wouldn't comment. "What's next?" Barriss asked after a moment of heavy silence. It wasn't what she really wanted to talk about, but somehow, it seemed the wrong time to bring up Vader, to dampen the joyous mood that filled the compound.
"Well," she seemed to have dampened it all the same, the happiness fading away from his face to be replaced by the dense melancholy that hung in the back of his mind. "Roan isn't here. I thought he would be, but…" his voice trailed off and his face slipped further into sadness before he recovered himself. "Well, we need to find him and free him." Barriss nodded, wondering if she should stay and help, Ferus wouldn't help her before he freed Roan, she guessed, but she could always just get Obi-wan to come with her. She nodded, he seemed to be under the impression that she was helping, and couldn't bear, in that moment, to make him look even sadder.
They sat in silence for a while as Barriss finished her breakfast, unsure of what to say, and lacking any motivation to try. She felt tired, defeated and she couldn't think why, either than her dream, it had been the same as ever, and there was still nothing she could do about it. She certainly wasn't going to mention it to Ferus, not when he was already concerned about her mental health.
"Are you alright?" Ferus asked suddenly, and Barriss suppressed a sigh.
"I am perfectly fine." She said forcing herself to look up and meet his gaze.
"You're lying." He was concerned, it swirled in his mind and was displayed plainly on his face. She bit the inside of her lip, forcing herself to let go of the annoyance that had swelled suddenly in her.
"I'm-" She began but Ferus interrupted.
"You were crying in your sleep." So she had woken him after all.
"It was nothing." Her eyes had fallen to her plate. His hand reached across the table and grabbed hers. Or tried. She pulled it back, folding both of them in her lap, no longer hungry. She sensed him give up, for the moment, and let out a quiet breath of relief, still not looking up.
The silence stretched on again. But Ferus suddenly filled it. "Can you teach me?" Barriss looked up, surprised, meeting his eyes, seeing his freckled, sincere face. For a moment, she struggled for words.
"You want me to teach you, as though I were a Master?" It was odd, there was a real master here, on this world right now, a master who had been a great teacher and who was probably one of the few left. Why would Ferus Olin want her to teach him? He was already questioning her mental health, why did he want to learn from her?
"Yes," he said simply, offering no explanation. She stared blankly at him for a couple of seconds before he continued, looking down at his own hands now. "I don't want to embarrass myself in front of him, and I'm sure he doesn't want another Padawan just yet." Barriss nodded, comprehension wiping away her intrigue as her heart gave a painful lurch. Of course Obi-wan wouldn't want to teach anyone else just yet. He and Anakin Skywalker had been like brothers, one and the same for all their differences. Anakin was dead, she guessed, or he would be here. If the Sith had known of the prophecy, they would have hunted him down long ago, as the Chosen One, he had had the only chance of destroying their order. Without warning, she saw his broken body in her mind's eye, in exactly the same pose that Luminara had in death, his vacant blue eyes staring at her. Barriss blinked hard as she fought away the tears.
"Of course, I'll teach you what I know." She forced a smile, receiving a grin in return as relief filled Ferus' mind. "Would you like to start right now?" She asked, thinking of some way to distract herself. He looked at her hopefully and she nodded. "Let's go then."
As they walked, she looked over at Ferus out of the corner of her eye, wondering of now was the time to talk about Vader, but she thought not. Besides, she wanted a distraction, from what he had caused, not to talk about it.
"Do you have any idea where Roan might be?" She asked in attempt to fill the silence as they walked down the empty corridors together towards the workout rooms.
"Yes," He didn't sound very excited about it, in fact he sounded more defeated than ever, "The computer records say he was taken to Kessel." Her stomach did a lurch, the prison asteroid was notorious for not only the death rate but the conditions as well. Kessel was one of the few, if not the only place in the galaxy where the valuable drug known as gliterstim spice could be mined. However, in order to maintain its properties, the prisoners mined in complete darkness. To get Roan from there, they would need either a Star Destroyer or a small, fast ship with a lot of guns, and either way, the odds weren't good. Ferus looked terrified for Roan and this time it was her heart that twisted.
Without thinking, she blurted out, "We better start planning a prison break then."
Far away, on a world very different from temperate Bellassa, Arden was still kneeling on the floor, lost to the rest of the galaxy, her mind ensnarled in snatches of visions and dreams and the pulsating red glow of the slowly forming crystal that she was forging. Seemingly random flashes of rooms and buildings, planets and skylines filled her mind, and she had long stopped trying to focus on them or divine a meaning from their patterns. As soon as she tried to do so, they vanished from her, slipping away like running water. It was the crystal that was the center of her attention. It was nearly complete, almost perfect, and almost ready. Several feet from her, Vader was finishing its twin.
Arden had no idea how long she had been sitting on the ancient, dusty ground for, it might have been seconds, it might have been days. The world, and the galaxy at large were still there, she could still feel them in the very back of her mind, but they were very distant, like something from a half remembered dream. It was all unconnected with the Force that was continually washing through her as she directed at the crystalline structures she was perfecting. The fringes of her consciousness was yelling at her, telling her that she was burning and blistering from the blinding heat of the forge, but it was a distant whisper of warning, something that she had been ignoring for however long she had been sitting on the cracked floor of the Sith Citadel. One of the particularly strong images temporarily washed away all other thought. Her bright red lightsaber, highlighting an ornate stone floor, stained with blood, covered with bodies of aliens and children and storm troopers alike. She let it go, trying not to be disturbed. She had no way of knowing what it meant.
Something came to an abrupt end and she looked to the crystal. It was done. Every facet was perfect, every molecule aligned just right. It was stronger than any natural Jedi crystal could ever be. This too, was something that was uniquely hers, it was her power that had made it, her emotions had filled it and her strength had made it real.
With a ragged, dry-mouthed gasp, her eyes opened and the real world returned to her in full force. She was in fact burning, the fire from the forge blistering her skin in a hundred places. Her head was filled with exhaustion and thirst and her eyes were heavy, but she had done it. With a triumphant grab, she reached into the forge with the Force and pulled out the little red crystal. Smaller than her little finger, multifaceted and deepest crimson red, it seemed to hum with dark energy. Despite the heat it had retained, she grasped it tightly in her fist and turned to look at Vader. He was done too, the other matching crystal floating out of the forge. We did it. She made a conscious effort to allow the pride in, to let herself feel satisfaction in a job well done.
We did. He sounded equally happy and she smiled, her lips cracking with dryness. Would you like to finish the lightsabers here or in the shuttle? Another choice. She tried not to overthinking it, trying to tell herself that it was alright to make a choice, to pick what she wanted to do.
The shuttle. She thought firmly, trying not to think about anything, though worried that she had made the wrong choice, but Vader just nodded and grabbed the bag. It rattled as he left the room, the remaining metal clunking around inside. She followed him for a couple of steps before stopping as she noticed the shadows of flames dancing upon the walls. What about the forge? Were they supposed to turn it off somehow?
What about it? Vader asked, not stopping or looking around.
Never mind. Feeling slightly ashamed and wrong-footed she jogged slightly to catch up with him.
It was twilight by the time they reached their shuttle, and still, she had no idea how much time had passed in that citadel. By the dryness of her mouth, she guessed that hit had been days, though how many was beyond her. It was three. Vader answered as they stepped into the cool shuttle and he looked at a nearby chrono. Their silvery shuttle rose out of the dust of Korriban, ascending into space before accelerating after than light towards Kashyyk
It took her another couple hours to put her lightsaber together, going into yet another trance, though this one was less deep. Again she saw blurry flashes of clones running through a forest and red lightsabers and blood. When she woke the next time, it was to see two cylindrical tubes, metal gleaming brightly in the bright white lights of the shuttle. Joy filled her. She was sore, hungry and tired, but she did not attend of any of those needs. Instead, she reached out her hands and the sabers flew into them, igniting so that the brilliant red beams just missed going through the floor.
For several long seconds, Arden just stood there, staring at them, listening to the soft humming sounds, excitement and joy suffusing her heart. They were perfect, everything she had hoped for. Experimentally, she spun, twisting the lightsabers around her and falling into a ready position. All her life she had wanted to have two blades like this and the Jedi had always said no. Now, here she was, and she had to restrain herself from jumping with excitement.
Do you want to try them out? Vader asked as he walked back from checking the cockpit.
Yes!
As soon as they dropped out of hyperspace however, her good mood vanished in a gasp of horror and agony. The pain of the Wookiees assaulted her. She couldn't understand their minds, but pain was universal. It had been ten days since the bombardment and enslavement had begun and their misery was something nauseating, filling her and making her want to be sick. She could nearly hear the desperate screams and pleas as families were ripped apart and ancient forests burned. I made the wrong choice. She thought quietly so Vader wouldn't hear as guilt shredded her heart. How could I choose this? Choose slavery for others but not for me? How could I be so selfish? Her new lightsabers suddenly felt very heavy at her sides and she barely resisted the urge to throw them away.
Think of what you have now, of what the Jedi did to you. Forget what they taught, it is all lies. Vader had sensed her distress no matter how well she thought she had done in hiding it. There was bitterness and anger in him, but it wasn't directed at the slavers, but rather at the Jedi. She wished she could feel the same, but her heart was screaming out, rejecting the life she wanted to build.
"This isn't right," she whispered in anguish, her voice cracking from tears and lack of use.
"It is necessary, their lives are irrelevant. What could they hope to accomplish that would be of any significance? This is an opportunity for them to participate in the glory of the Empire, to make their lives mean something." He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself as much as her, but she tried to accept what he was saying, to make herself believe that it was right because she didn't want to see the truth. Arden didn't want to know what her choice had caused. Individual Wookiees couldn't matter in the grand scheme of the universe, they were just savages, weren't they? They wouldn't be remembered, they weren't important. She would be remembered, Vader would be remembered. That was what mattered.
Her stomach continued to twist unpleasantly, guilt rising like bile in her throat, but if she was going to be a Sith Lord, than she couldn't care about simple Wookiees. Feeling like the lowest scum of the universe, she disconnected herself from their pain, separated and isolated herself before slowly beginning to draw on it, as she had been taught. Arden was rewarded as the dark side flowed into her, an inky current of power. Still, she was shaking with the effort to hold in her sobs even as she felt herself growing in power and strength. Their shuttle landed in a hanger in the Star Destroyer and she all but ran from it, desperate to hide, to remove herself from a horror that she had joined.
The door to her room hissed open as she ran towards it and she toppled into the main room where she fell to the ground, sobbing in earnest now. What had she been thinking? What had she thought was going to happen? How could she have chosen this? Arden had thought she knew what evil was, she had thought that she could take it for Vader's sake. This was more terrible than she had ever thought possible in her witless naivety. She let out a muffled scream of sorrow and anguish into the soft, thick carpet. It was just too horrible. She had to ignore it, to separate if from herself, to pretend it wasn't happening. There was no other way.
This was the price she had to pay. The price for freedom, for power, for luxury and control. This was what she would have to live with. Unless, she thought, unless she could separate herself from it, use the pain without feeling it herself. Or, she could leave, steal a shuttle and fly away, turn on Vader and fight against this, and then she would be nothing again. The choices had not changed. She had to stay, she couldn't live in poverty again, and there was always that chance, that chance of being enslaved. The scars that lined her back burned at the very thought.
Slowly, Arden pulled herself up off the carpet, staring out into the void of space, staring at the impassive stars flickering millions of light years away. From here, Kashyyk was invisible, the pain and suffering was muffled and distant, at least for the moment, she had separated herself. This was her life. There was no way around that. Furiously, she dug her fingernails into her palms, twisting them in, her own pain burning away tears as she brought her anger to bear. She was going to be a Sith Lord, and she would do whatever it took. No one would ever enslave her again, no chains would ever touch her again, no matter how many others would be enslaved. Her breath hiccupped with that last, unexpected thought.
There was a knock on the door. She stared, unclenching her fists, her mind immediately inspecting the presence on the other side. A Clone Trooper. Pulling herself to her feet and trying to arrange herself so that it did not look like she had just spent the last hour curled up on the floor, sobbing, she opened the door with the Force.
"Come in," she said warily. There was something about this clone, a sensation in the back of her mind, there was something familiar about him.
He didn't move. His mind was too filled with shock to accomplish anything. After several seconds of stunned silence, he lifted off his helmet. Her mouth fell open in a rather undignified fashion as she realized who the clone was. There could be no mistaking the ugly scar that marred his right cheek or the tattoos on his neck. "Nate?" Memories of those months six years ago flashed through her mind briefly. She saw glimpses of droids and blasters, clear night sky, mud and swirling snowflakes. They walked forwards until they were almost touching, gazing avidly at each other, remembering those months so long ago.
"What are you doing here?" They both asked at the same time. He looked older; the doubled aging was catching up with him. When they had first met, she had been fourteen, he had been ten, though he had looked twenty. Now, Nate looked in his mind-thirties, even though just six years had passed.
"I was reassigned to this ship about two months ago, why are you here?" He paused for a second, "How did you survive?" She let the ghost of a bitter smile cross her face. Eternities divided them now. She could still remember when he had almost been able to read her mind and she felt a flash of pity for him.
"I…" She tried to respond, but her voice trailed off before she had really begun, unsure of what to say, something that wouldn't make him flinch away from her, "I made a deal." Arden said vaguely, feeling painfully aware of her luxurious surroundings, her heart hammering unpleasantly in her chest. All happiness at seeing him again had dissipated now; the room seemed filled with cold tension and she wished that it wasn't so. He nodded slowly, his face becoming rigid, his posture formal, Arden's heart ached suddenly. A part of her wanted to spill her soul out to him, to make him understand what she had to do, to have his comfort and his attention once more. But she had decided to be a Sith Lord. She wasn't a little abandoned Jedi Padawan anymore. Still, she had to ask. "Did the rest of the squad make it?"
"No," he shook his head slowly, and even though she had guessed the answer, she felt a punch in her gut. Unwilling tears prickled at her eyes and she stood there stiffly, forcing herself not to move, to show her emotions as grief filled the Storm Trooper's mind. She shouldn't care about the deaths of three clones any more than she should care about the Wookiees.
"We should be glad," she was speaking without thinking, foreign words filling her mouth, words that failed to match what she felt. "They died for the glory of the Empire," She felt sick with herself as she took in the meaning of what she had just said. Nate took a step backwards, raw shock and horror spreading across his face for an instant before all emotions vanished, and he became remote once more. He looked like a droid, a living droid, just like he was made to. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice coming out cracked. Her head was throbbing now, there were too many thoughts and emotions roiling though her mind. Her ribs seemed to be constricting around her lungs, and she felt the tears rising in her eyes again.
"The admiral would like to know where you and Lord Vader have been." He gave no indication that he had heard her apology; his voice was as monotonous as she had ever heard it. Mirth joined the swamp of feeling inside. Prittick was too afraid or too proud to come himself, so he had sent a disposable trooper to her, the one most likely to answer his question. Or perhaps he had tried to ask Vader and had gotten his throat squeezed in return.
"That," Arden said, forcing her voice into coolness even as her throat tightened, "Is none of his business." Nate nodded once, and without a word, spun around and left the room, leaving dismay and sorrow in his wake. As soon as the door hissed shut, she let out another scream of frustration, digging her nails into her scalp as she ran her hands through her long hair. There was too much feeling inside of her, she need to do something, destroy something or be destroyed, ripped apart by what she was feeling. The Force was churning inside of her like the beginning of a hurricane. Summoning her lightsabers into her hands, she ran across the passage into the training room, unable to think past releasing the nightmare inside, so she failed to notice the white-clad figure still beside her door.
Once inside, she let a burst of Force energy out that knocked over all the training equipment again and scarred the recent fixed walls with bursts of blue electricity. Panting slighting, tension still threatening to crush her chest, she activated one of the droids which sprung to life in an instant. She began to fight, to fight until she couldn't thing, until she was too tired to feel, to mourn at the loss of a life she had once lived.