Episode 6: A way back home
The sun is blocked by a layer of brown smog, marking the start of a new day. The air smelt of charcoal and soot. The soil is scarred and polluted. The surrounding trees were slaughtered by the hundreds. The song of nature was deathly silent. Drowning it out was an enormous, dark skyscraper that had embedded itself to the cliffside of a granite 400-meter tall monolith. Rustic pipes were jetted from the sides, stabbing themselves into the cliffside and earth below. A grotesque technological parasite, sucking the essence of its host.
At the feet of this industrial terror was a mining colony spanning two miles long and two miles wide, surrounded by a five-meter tall metal wall with guards posted in watchtowers. Large pools of water covered the town, small mechanical islands overlooked the growth of hundreds of crop plants. A small ripple is seen lurking through one of these pools; it stops, and a pair of blue eyes peek out. F has made it to the settlement's west wall, staying under the radar. She pulls out her binoculars, noticing it's covered in muck from the less than sanitary water. She's sometimes amazed at how her mask can purify such gross water into oxygen.
A distant chatter draws her attention. Peering through her binoculars, she saw the night watch was switching guards. The moment they left, F made her move and sprang out of the pool. She dashes to the high wall, scaling it without making a single sound. Her training demanded that she stay in the shadows and be as silent as the wind. Her techy heels soften the jump down, and F begins scouring the town for Sinta's family and village.
F has long grown tired of the noise and wretchedness unmitigated urban sprawls fester, and this town was one of the worst. The air was so muggy that F could already feel her clothes stick to her skin. The cramped alleyways and crowded streets were filled with numerous species F had seen before. Entering a road with brown canopies above, F saw nothing but rustic workshops, mills, droid-smiths, small refineries, and storage houses. Almost every building looked slapped together, a cheap but quick way of building colonial settlements.
F pauses in the middle of the populated street to sense the collective emotions of those around her. It is a conglomeration of personal stories, each possessing their own reason for why they're here on this distant planet. She sensed their displeasure living in such shanty residences, but their fear of speaking up was greater. 'So few children and families,' F notes before observing the crowd with her eyes.
Nearly every one of them has some sort of grease, sweat, or ash on their person. F pauses at one Tholothian male fixing his artificial leg. She finds a Bothan without his arm, then a human with bandaged up burns until discovering dozens of individuals like this. 'The work here is hazardous, yet they're still forced to work to live,' F deduces, looking up at the gigantic dark spire with growing contempt.
F ducks into an alleyway, jumping from a dumpster onto some pipes until she reaches the roof. Using vents as cover, F scans the townscape. One of the cargo ships she saw days ago takes off from the northeast, "that must be where the hangers are," F whispers. "Wish I had time to look at what else is there."
She looks up to the spire, zooming in to see dozens of exhaust pipes. Along its walls were mechanisms transporting loads of raw ore either to upper or lower levels. "It's a factory, probably gathering material for the empire," F mumbles before rethinking her assessment. "But wait, Sinta showed that they've been here for at least a year, and the empire was just declared." She glances up at the tower curiously, noticing how its shadow hangs over the town as its primary source of work to those who call this place home.
A rustle below draws F's attention to find an armored vehicle roll-up. Several heavily armed police began observing the crowds but their gray and blue uniforms weren't what drew F's attention but their white logo on the vehicle. OteroaCorp Security forces were their name, a renowned and high-quality company in Core Worlds from Coruscant to Corellia. "Security," F mutters, "more like a private army."
Zooming in on the car, F sees an officer talking through the vehicle's transmitter. F digs into her bag, picking up an attachable comm scanner before discreetly tossing it on top of the vehicle's roof. The rectangular device, smaller than a child's palm, picks up the transmission channel and sends the conversation directly to F's mask, which possesses a built-in headset.
[HQ, this is Unit 023, we're reporting no signs of any of the detainees out here. Seems like last night's fear of a breakout was a simple scare. Over.]
[Copy that, 023. Continue standard patrol routine, file in today's report, and head northwest towards the detention center for reassignment.]
Hearing everything she needed, F pulled the scanner back into her hands before leaping onto a rooftop towards the northwest. Masking her presence, F quickly reaches this detention center, discovering a black octagon-shaped building with four towers on the furthest ends. Windows were nonexistent on the complex, one so big that F guesses it could hold over three thousand prisoners. She zooms in on a garage, watching as a few droid automated trucks pull hauls of refined metal to the spaceport.
"An underground complex too?" F whispers, wondering why materials like these would come out of prison. Turning her binoculars to a central tower on top of the prison, she mutters, "It has windows and a transmitter on top of it. Perhaps that's where the master control room is?" F then noticed a banner on top bearing a yellow flag with a particular black sigil she saw during the war.
"The Mining Guild?" F gasps. Her mind returns to the night of a covert mission to sabotage a separatist-controlled city's factories, diminishing its ability to wage war. She was there again, her best commandos watching her six while she planted explosives at critical points of the massive structures. Everywhere was appalling working conditions, the kind not too dissimilar to what's happening here. Above the hazardous machines were the mining guild's banner, a proud partner of the now-defunct Separatist alliance.
"I don't understand," she whispers, "the Republic ceased their assets before the empire formed, so shouldn't they've been broken up for their crimes? This sector was untouched by separatists—what are they doing all the way out here?" Amidst her confusion, F wondered what was the point of her mission if this corrupt, traitorous entity continued on as if nothing had happened. The thought left a bad taste in her mouth, but she realizes this frustrated feeling won't get anything done, not now. She spots a ventilation shaft above the garage that should mask her presence, and she enters the prison.
Though limited to where she could go, F was trained to see beyond her eyes. She sensed anguish, a loss one felt after seeing their home burn to the ground. The tall hallways and metallic rooms were oppressive, and its guards were practically as emotionless as a droid. Then again, at least a droid could program and modify itself to feel if they so desired, and F sensed nothing like that from these masked cops.
She peeks through dozens of rooms and finds dozens of Sinta's people either cramped together or being transferred to another cell block. She saw mothers cradling their children, the hate in the father's eyes as guards threatened to beat them. The worst came from those who lost hope, a sight F could never stomach.
"We can get this message outside, I know it," a voice speaking basic echoes through the vents. F turned and followed where it came from, soon peeking into a ray-shielded cell. Crowded inside were men and women a few years older than her, wearing dull prisoner clothes. F pinpoints it was the woman in the center who spoke, "My uncle's clan must know by now that we've been imprisoned, along with the Aya and Mara clans there."
"And what would sending a message do to help? None of our warriors ever once set foot in one of these fortresses. I don't think your uncle's best fighters could either," one questioned.
F felt their desire to do something, the torment of spending another day in this cold cell was unthinkable. She couldn't stay silent, not when she made a vow.
A guard passes by, causing everyone to turn silent. F slips one of her and Sinta's drawings out of the vent, watching it fall into one of the prisoner's hands. The message they saw was the word "Friend," along with the symbol of the Jedi. They hide their shock before passing it to the defiant woman. The lady quickly looked up to F, barely seeing her blue eyes. She barely holds back a smile as a tear falls down her cheek. Great relief was lifted thanks to her message. Once the guards weren't looking, the woman passed a note to F.
The paper's content gave longitude and latitude coordinates and a cryptic message: 'freedom from below.' Before she left, F saw a small drawing of two siblings hugging, finally reunited after so long apart. F read a small note: "Tell Sinta, her big sister and family are holding up. We miss him dearly, and we've been searching for him since that terrible day. Thank you for protecting my brother, Jedi."
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
"Camp shouldn't be too far now," F sighs, walking through an old bridge over a wide river in the direction of the mountain she descended from last night.
The trek from the wrecked town was arduous. It was only physically draining for F, but for Sinta and the girl named Anah, she couldn't imagine pain stirring inside them. Their silence last night worried her, making her feel terrible coming back empty-handed even though she knew a reckless escape plan would be dangerous.
She looks down at the paper and hopes whatever waits for them will help achieve this 'freedom from below.' Returning to camp in a quiet, open meadow, F finds them huddled around a campfire. Sinta wrapped a blanket around the toddler Anah who was eating freshly cooked soup made by him. F spots their small smiles and allows herself a quiet chuckle, 'so strong.'
She quietly sits beside them and gives Sinta the paper while taking out a small device from her bag, a simple GPS device. Upon entering the coordinates, she found it led to a forest far west from the colony. "Then that's where we'll go. Once you're done, Sinta, Anah, let's-" F says but stops when she sees Sinta hugging his sister's message. The first message from his family in a long time. F placing her hand on his shoulder to comfort him, she says, "help me by guiding the way," gesturing to the GPS map. Sinta wipes his eyes and begins helping F pack up camp.
The three began their long trek, and it didn't take long for F's breath to feel heavy over how full her hands were. Sinta was wrapped around her back; on her shoulders and neck was a long stick with a bag and basket containing food and supplies on each end. F held the young Anah in her arms with her duffel bag tied around her waist with their only weapon of defense readily in F's right hand.
It was all so heavy, even when compared to her training and previous endurance tests. Looking down at Anah's innocent brown eyes, F realizes it's not the weight stressing her, not really, but the fragile lives in her arms. There was also a dangerous threat targeting her companions, an entity that seemed more eager to wage war than sue for peace. While crossing a field of chopped-down tree trunks, a part of F wonders if peace was ever a possibility here.
From everything she learned as a Jedi, the best thing to do was seek a meeting between both sides, but they rarely told her how this is possible when one side is eager to oppress the other. 'Still, is it wiser to seek peace even when the chances are low or to fight even if it means bloodshed for all?' she wonders.
F tells herself this is what many great peacekeepers have tackled, yet she also can't help but feel like a walking paradox. A supposed peacekeeper who involves herself in more wars than preventing them. 'What a pathetic Jedi…' were words that plague F's darker psyche, but she shakes them away. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts. 'Everything I've seen has only painted these colonizers as the aggressors, driven only by profit. They feel nothing for the plight they're inflicting.'
F follows Sinta's guidance and enters a dense, uphill forest by sunset. Far away from the colony and its operations. F senses a disturbance, 'We're being watched,' she realizes, spying the trees for any movement. However, she felt no ill intentions nor any danger of a trap, merely a presence keeping an eye on them. For now, she marches forward so as not to agitate these spies.
A mist coats the grassy slope by dusk, and they come across a swarm of butterflies glowing green flutter about. Given the high shrubbery and array of trees, F could see why these woods attracted them. F also slows down her pace, especially after seeing Sinta and Anah marvel at the glowing light show with some landing on their cheeks and noses. F lets out a chuckle until one lands on her mask. She quickly shakes it away but spots an expansive stone terrace a few dozen yards ahead.
There were over a dozen statues depicting kneeling warriors from one end of the hill to the other. F trekked closer up, passing by pairs of metallic lanterns and a boulder-sized stone head on the right side of the road.
"Amaru!" Anah smiles, pointing at the moss-covered head.
F smirks, "Is that one of your old kin-?" she proceeds to ask but stops when a shiver crawls down her neck. She sees the butterflies flutter away like an animal would flee from a predator. F grips her lightsaber and squints up the steep hill, exhaling a shaky breath over the chance it's another Uruk.
"Sinta," F whispers, but the disturbance distracts her from noticing Sinta has hopped off her back to examine the head. "Sinta!" F whispers again as he places his hand on a marking. It was a sun symbol with a spear in the center, a sign recognizable to Sinta, making him smile.
"F! Balica!" he says excitedly and points ahead. F winces at his shouting, reaching out to grab him and–
BOOM!
A blaster shot echoes in the woods, and their basket of provisions is blown to bits beside F's and Sinta's faces. F instantly drops the carrying stick and scoops up Sinta in her right arm while clinging to Anah with her left.
BOOM!
Another shot is heard, and F narrowly dodges by rolling behind the stone head. F's heart raced as Anah cried in her arms. "That could've gotten Anah," F mutters. Anah shrieks when another shot is fired, and F feels her fear. "Shh, it's okay. We're going to be okay," F hushes, comforting the child in her arms while feeling the tears on her robes. F pokes her head out to see a scope glint ahead.
'Ahh, great. He's far, has the uphill advantage, and I'm tired,' F calculates, exhaling a heavy breath, her legs aching from non-stop running.
Sinta squirms out of F's grasp and shouts, "No, friends!" However, another shot is fired, chipping off a piece of the statue.
F pulls him back, "definitely NOT friends, Sinta!" F tries peeking, but a quick shot on the stone shows it won't work, "this sniper's got us pinned down." F finds a piece of reflective glass from the shattered basket, Force pulling it to her hand. Carefully, she sticks the shard up and sees the sniper is tied to one of the trees. "So if I was facing forward, that'd put him on my left," F squinted to find almost a dozen white spots moving in the bushes.
'Stormtroopers?!' F dreads, unable to say it in her shock. 'But I…how did they find me so quickly?' A blast shoots the glass out of her hands, and F holds the two kids closer as a barrage of plasma hits their cover. F could hear radio chatter ahead; the enemy she brought to this world was closing in.
She looks at the frightened Anah and Sinta, who held his club tightly. Seeing what's at risk, she nods to herself before hugging them, whispering, "I'm sorry, but F has to go now." She gets Sinta's attention points to a small trench on the other side of the stone road. "Hide and run there," she orders before igniting her lightsaber.
"Wha-?! F!"
She hears Sinta shout as she sprung into action, narrowly deflecting blaster fire before leaping up to the tree's branches. F tosses her lightsaber mid-air, cutting the tree in half, her weight then causing it to fall towards the stormtroopers. She pulls her lightsaber back into her hand, climbing to the bushy top of the tree and quietly leaping to another tree. Clinging tightly to the dense branches, F hopes they think she's still on the previous tree as it crashes.
Silently watching the sniper fire at the fallen tree, she sighs, throwing over her dark hood. F peeks through the dense leaves to view the sniper and hears radio chatter. "The Jedi's moving forward. Circle them now!" she hears. F looks ahead to find the stormtroopers have crossed the terrace, sticking to the right and not crossing where Sinta and Anah are. F sees the stars above shining. It's now wholly nighttime, and the darkness will be her ally. Only the chatter of birds could be heard as F quietly leaped to another treetop.
"Wait for an optimal position," she tells herself, watching the clones as they slowly close in on the fallen tree, "destroy the tree the sniper's on, then strike." They stop, and F hears faint chatter; they receive new orders. The troopers then aim upwards and fire at the treeline.
'They couldn't have seen me!' F thinks, a shot barely misses her. Her advantage was lost; her only saving grace was the clone's inability to pinpoint her. 'Whoever this commander is, he's seen tactics like mine before, but who?' F questions, wondering what to do now.
Then a great howl is heard. F thought those blue canines were back for a moment, but upon closer inspection, she noticed it was not a natural howl. 'Sinta! He's using those whistles,' F realizes. Thankfully, none of the clones see through the ruse and are distracted by the sound.
"Hold on, that sounds like one of those Malia beasts," a clone says.
"It is, and they sound like they're nearby. Malia hollowed like this before when they got Zed."
"Have three men watch our rear. The rest focus only on the Jedi!" the officer shouts.
Realizing Sinta is buying her time, F turns to the sniper and squeezes her hand to shatter the tree, toppling it on top of the sniper. F drops from her hiding spot, cutting the tree, which falls onto the remaining troops. Most dodge, but now their numbers are divided. F's heels soften her landing, causing the line of six clones in front of her to not notice. Her eyes reflect the yellow glow of her weapon, and she attacks.
With tremendous speed, she slices through their weapons. Dispatching them with swift kicks, punches and Force pushes. 'I know blood already stains my hands, but I mustn't kill again…not now, not after Aradia.' The dark side still had a grip over her heart.
Once the squad is incapacitated, F dodges the second squad's blaster fire as they leap over the tree. Their plasma bolts were fast, but she was faster. Noticing her cloak blends right in with the mist and shadow, F uses the Force to pull more moisture over the clones. It looked like a cloud touched the earth, blinding the clones to F's counterattack. Red and yellow flash within the cloud, followed by screams and occasionally unconscious clones being flung out. The cloud dissipates after a loud shatter is heard, the source being F cracking a clone's helmet with a swift kick. A pile of clones lies below F; she counts one missing and swiftly deflects back a shot behind her.
Once disarmed, F lifts the last clone with the Force and grips her fingers to choke him. "You nearly got two children killed," she says, her tone seeping with anger before stopping herself and dropping him. He posed no threat now, and she asked, "how did you find me?"
A disturbance alerts F, followed by a blaster shot uphill that she swiftly dodges, raising her weapon defensively. F glances at the last clone until they're shot in cold blood. She gasps upon realizing who killed him, two clones wearing dark armor standing on the stone terrace.
On the left was a seven-foot clone, carrying a heavy blaster he shot his brother with while a large hammer was holstered behind him. His partner was slightly taller than F, holding two electro-batons in each hand. He leans forward, letting out a muffled growl, "Traitor…."
They unnerved F; she sensed a hatred and darkness in them that felt unnatural. It was as if they were corrupted. Still, she keeps her cool and focuses on how to win. She takes note of their armor and melee weapons, exhaling a shaky breath to steady her nerves. In a split second, the larger trooper fires, and his partner sprints almost as fast as her. She deflects the shot back at the baton-wielder, slowing them down for her to leap up and over the giant clone, crushing his blaster with the Force.
The burst of violence slows to stillness. F now stands on the large terrace, pointing her blade at the troopers, staring into their red visors to find a sliver of left humanity in them. Sadly, F felt nothing while they raised their electro-weapons and soon stood on opposing ends of the terrace. To F's left was the brute, while the baton clone was on her right. F stood firm in her spot, her blue eyes switching from one clone to another before attacking.
F barely dodges the brute's hammer while Force pushes away the baton clone. 'Can't block that. I'll die under such weight,' F notes, targeting his right shoulder and swinging to disarm him.
Her eyes widen like never before once her lightsaber bounces off his shoulder pad. Her whole life, this ancient weapon was able to cut through anything, and seeing it fail causes F to freeze. A fist strikes her face, nearly shattering her mask as she collides into a statue. Her head spun, blood dripped from her head, her blurry vision barely made out the brute raising his hammer. Rolling away, F sees his hammer shattering and getting stuck onto the statue.
F strikes his back and arms only to scorch the armor. She stabs where his lower abdomen is, pushing it to penetrate the strange armor with all her strength. The brute shouts in pain from the lightsaber's extreme heat and furiously grabs onto F's hood to stop her. She slashes his arms away and pushes him back with the Force.
A barrage of electricity suddenly shocks F from behind, a sneak attack from the other clone. F shrieks through her mask as the clone chuckles sadistically, her skin and organs feeling like they're on fire from the excruciating pain. F clenches her jaw and swings her blade back, deflecting the batons off her, charging forward with a barrage of attacks. Their duel brings them back to the stairs, his speed able to keep up with hers. F was electric shocked for every dent made on his armor, making her more fatigued and lose focus.
He swings down, but F blocks, their weapons locked in a clash. Her strained muscles force her to kneel while ripples of electricity inch closer to her mask.
A war cry is heard. F sees Sinta leap from behind the clone and bashes his club onto his dark helmet. The clone stumbles, and Sinta sees that he freed a friend from the clash, but in F's eyes, she saw a civilian now within a killer's sight. 'Get back! He'll kill you!' F shouts in her head. The clone quickly gets back up and swings at Sinta.
F dashes, driven by instinct, and swings her blade. F inadvertently discovers a weak point in a clean-cut and realizes she has decapitated the clone. His head impacting the ground was like thunder to F's ears. She's unable to look away as it tumbles down the stairs, his body collapsing by her feet. The first thought to reach her stricken mind was how good it felt. F suddenly didn't feel well. She covered her mask with her hand to remind herself not to throw up.
Unable to look any longer, F gazes at Sinta, whose face is pale from her act. "S-sinta," she mutters, reaching out to him. The brute startles them with a loud cry, slamming his electro-hammer, pulsating a wave of electricity through the ground, and knocking away F and Sinta.
F crashes into a statue, her head and vision spinning from the pain and fatigue. She barely sees the brute loom over her and slashes at his helmet with the last of her strength. It hardly phases him, and he grabs her neck and weapon. The clone uses his terrifying strength to shove F against the wall and slowly begin crushing the life out of her.
F gasps for air, losing strength which causes her to drop her lightsaber. Her legs tried kicking him off, and her free arm tried hitting his arm, but neither worked. She glares at the clone but finds something shocking. The clone's shattered visors revealed a pair of familiar eyes, the same ones she fought alongside in her old regiment.
"C-charger?!" she gasps out, "Charger, stop! I–it's…me!"
"Com…mander," Charger grunts, his exposed eyes twitching before shouting, "you…killed Dash!"
'Dash?!' F thought, losing too much air to say anything.
"G-good…soldiers follow orders," Charger grumbles out as if he's forced to. The words echo in F's head as her vision fades, darkness consuming her. Sinta's cries for Charger to stop were the last sounds F hears.
She's back in that cold void.
'You wish to die like this?' the old voice whispers. F's shadow, the side of her that haunted her for countless nights.
F doesn't respond.
'Still pretending? Then I'll ask something a Jedi will understand. You wish to let others die because of your sins?' her shadow asks, her voice ever so tantalizing and venomous. ' Use your true power to kill this traitorous scum! You already have blood on your hands, and they're no different now from mindless droids. Give in, relish it, be one with it…or die for nothing!'
A boom from a blast reaches F's ears. She feels her body collapse and air fill her lungs. Her vision slowly returns, and the whisper fades back into darkness…for now. F takes slow and heavy breaths as her senses return. 'So cold,' she remembers, her body shivering from the thought of such darkness. F looks to see Charger dead, shot in the eye by a blaster, freeing her from death or worse.
Looking up, F sees the one who saved her was now aiming his long wooden blaster rifle at her face. F doesn't flinch and sees it's no clone or colonist but a Ragoonian warrior. The man, whose face had red tattoos like Sinta, wore a green poncho over a brown and black local uniform with green armor covering him from the neck down.
"F is a friend!" Sinta shouts as more warriors crowd around them, with one carrying Anah safely in his arms. Anah nods in agreement to Sinta, and the band of over three dozen warriors lowers their blasters and melee weapons.
F tired eyes stayed on the man in front of her who asked in basic, "F, is it? Why did this man in black call you commander?"
F mumbles in a raspy voice, "he…was an old comrade."
"Were these your men? Why did they attack you?"
F shakes her head, staring at the purge troopers, "T-two of them were, and…they attacked me for being a Jedi."
The Ragonians share a look of surprise from her title, quickly having a warrior pull her up and assist her walking after gathering up prisoners. The Ragoonians escort F, Sinta, and Anah back to their current HQ. Before vanishing into the woods, F looks back at her comrades one last time, 'Dash…Charger… I'm sorry for letting the empire do this to you.'
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
At the top level of the colony's factory, sitting by a long desk in a clean white room sat the presidente of the settlement and productions over the entire southern highlands. A deathly pale humanoid wearing a dark suit, his bony fingers adjusting the guild's emblem pinned on his collar as his sunken black eyes stare at two holograms before him.
"So you're telling me the local resistance just suddenly turned silent?" Commander Montar asks through a hologram. He glances at the hologram Gossam, representative of the executives in the Mining Guild.
"That's what I said," the presidente nods, his voice raspy and slow, "seems like our recent capture of another village has wounded their morale."
"Heh, see?" the representative smiles, "We've seen behavior like this bef-"
"Or it could mean they're revising their plan of action," Montar interjects. "Your report also uncovered heavy activity in the woodlands only a few miles to the south, correct? Gather up all your forces and launch an attack by daybreak tomorrow. Better to squash these pests before it becomes a bigger problem."
"With respect, Commander, but wouldn't eliminating them deprive my factory of potential labor and-?"
"Stop before you repeat yourself," Montar says, pointing at the presidente. "Your factories here were contractually obligated to produce top-quality armor for new imperial vehicles and ships in vast quantities. If operations are stalled, it could mean rippling effects to new divisions across the core worlds."
"There's already over three dozen settlements and mines established across the planet," the representative argues, "even if they stall one-"
"Not even one good sir, not even one," Montar emphasizes, his patience waning. "My superiors are very particular. Whole planets are already resisting, even if some don't see it. Though it may not be a full-out war, it'll only be a short time before the situation gets out of hand. So please, for your own sake, don't fall short on your quotas."
The presidente gulps, "T-then I'll speak with OteroaCorp. By tomorrow two thousand of our best troopers will march to sedate these savages."
"Yes, do that. However, speak with one of my people first," Montar says, gesturing to the main door as a group of purge troopers enter. The leader of these clones approaches them and salutes. "Commander Frost," Montar introduces, "a veteran who's seen action since the 1st battle of Geonosis. He'll be in charge of your colony's forces for the time being."
"Oh," the presidente nervously gasps, "ahem, p-pleasure to be doing business with-"
"My right-hand officer will be doing the speaking," Frost says, his tone like that of a professional, only speaking when he needs to. He turns to Montar, "Sir, requesting we speak in private?"
Montar nods, switching his transmission to Frost's personal holoprojector once he is out of the room. "What is it?" he demands.
"1st squadron led by two of my men haven't reported in. They were last heard in the hill chains towards the southwest. Right where the attack on the woodlands will take place tomorrow."
"The Jedi," Montar curses, "that blasted traitor has linked up with the resistance. That'll make tomorrow's mission difficult."
"She's indeed tough in battle and a fearsome commander. However, the moment the bodies pile up, and her spirit shatters, that'll be when we'll eliminate her."
Montar huffs at Frost's words, "and I trust you'll be there to personally end your former commander yourself?"
"With pleasure," Frost spoke. Even beneath the soulless helmet, one could make out his smirk.
/-/-/-/-/-/-/
Without even noticing, sleep has taken F on the way to the Ragoonians base, unsurprising given the last time she slept was about two days ago. When her eyes finally opened, the first thing that came to mind was a relief that she didn't feel cold anymore. F sees why upon feeling a soft bed beneath her and many pillows and blankets. Drowsy, F crawls out to see she's in a decently sized stone room with a fireplace, furniture, and music machine playing a soothing windpipe song.
She wipes her eyes, flinching when the memory of the Charger's eyes flashes before her eyes. Her breath becomes shaky; lowering her head, she steadily takes slow breaths while remembering Charger's fingers nearly crushing her bones. She shutters at imagining his fingers gripping her neck.
"All your fault…you vowed to protect them."
"S-shut up," F mumbles. She is trying to remember the stillness of nature or sitting by the fire with Sinta, but Dash's death at her hands keeps repeating in her mind.
"Keep making vows. You'll break them eventually and hurt these people. You're no Jedi, only a nobody, a meek imitator."
"Shut up!" F shouts, cracking the walls through the Force. The whispers leave with a mocking crackle.
The door opens, and F grabs her lightsaber, frightened and already in a defensive stance, before recognizing it's the man from before.
"Easy, my young friend," the warrior says, "you're safe now, so lower your weapon."
F gets a good look at the man. He was of average height, had straight black hair with a red and yellow bandana wrapped around his forehead, and wore an oversized gold earring on his left ear. He possessed a stoic face, one F seen from men who saw combat for years but could tell he still had plenty of fight in him. He was still wearing his uniform, but now his poncho is a bright red color, and he was wearing sandals rather than leather boots. F notices he's carrying a plate of cereal grain, meat, and a jar of water. She instinctively covers her mask, "did you remove my mask?"
He sets both items down and looks at F in confusion, "no, you were only out for less than a few hours. It's already morning, and I just now brought provisions. Why?"
F sighs, lowing her guard and forcing down any lingering thoughts, "nevermind. Thank you for saving me, but where are Sinta and Anah? Where are we?"
"My nephew and the sweet girl Anah are more than safe now," the man assures in a low and soft-spoken voice.
"Nephew? So you're this 'uncle' Paria was talking about?"
"I'm proud to say I am, Jedi F."
She's shocked before remembering, "So, that was you watching us."
He nods, "ever since you've set foot in the woodlands. Don't take it personally. That rugged area is the only natural barrier between here and the colonizer's forces."
"And what is here?"
He walks to and opens a curtain, answering, "our clan's last sanctuary." What F saw out that window was nothing short of breathtaking, they weren't in a valley or even a mountainside but a gigantic water hole formed by collapsed stone.
The moonlight and stars above are sprinkled with several waterfalls coming in. Each stream falls into marvelously engineered aqueducts that funnel water where it's most needed. Inside schools, gardens, canals, and large public baths came water from aqueducts whose design reminded F of elevated highways. The city before her was breathtaking in its ingenuity and size. Along the walls were houses connected with stone stairs, bridges, and elevators, F realizes she's currently inside one of the hundreds of homes. The elevators, stairs, and bridges also lead residents down a slope where a massive lake carries a floating city. Formed in a circular pattern with a moat of water around it was a city with over a hundred buildings. "An entire underground city," F whispers, nearly breathless from sight. "No wonder this is untouched. For all their burning of valleys and blowing up mountainsides, the colonists never would have expected you to be hiding underground."
The man, who F guesses around his mid-fifties, nods and introduces himself, "I'm Atawa, commander of the city of Balica's militia and captain of the Ragoonian people's resistance." Before F could respond, he hands her the jar of water and turns to the door, "you're hungry. Please fill up on provisions before we continue. I'll be waiting outside."
F looks at the warm food once he's gone. About to unlatch her mask before memories of the battle return. It makes her sick at the sight of food, so she only drinks water before walking out. She still bows out of respect and asks, "umm, before we go. What are the conditions of the prisoners? I'd like to ask them some questions."
Atawa frowns, "afraid you're too late. They each bit on some electric suicide pill, killing them. We couldn't even get a chance to interrogate them ourselves."
F pauses from the sickness before, it festered in her stomach over the image conjured in her head. "Oh…" is all she says before following Atawa. She changes the subject and asks, "s-so, is Balica the HQ of this planet's resistance?"
Atawa leads her down a flight of stairs while saying, "No, that'll be on the other side of the planet. Balica is one of many cities in our world and the safest one in the whole southern highlands."
"What happened to the others," F asks as they board a wooden cart powered by some unique blue energy cell that'll take them to the city.
Atawa sighs, "We've flourished under a peace that lasted over four generations until the colonists arrived. Our capital was the first to be taken over, with several others destroyed soon after. Hundreds of thousands fled from the violence, Sinta and Anah's families being among them."
"The Guild and Oteroa, I've heard. I don't get why they've been out here even when the Republic was around. At the very least, the Jedi Order should've noticed."
Atawa looks out to the huts they pass by, one of which is a small med station. "Seven years ago, before the colonist's arrival, there was a terrible plague, spreading to every corner of the world within months. It mutated at such a bizarre rate for two years that our healers could barely keep up. When a long dry season was also foreseen, threatening our crops, our planet's leaders reached out to the Republic and allowed full entry to our planet to deliver vital supplies."
"That's just over a year before the Clone Wars began," F murmurs.
Atawa nods, "I was one of the first that knew our visitors will not be leaving."
F hands ball into fists, "untapped resources for the war."
"Correct, the Republic broke our treaty without a second thought. And since then, they and Miners have been ravaging our lands." Atawa's fingers shake when he looks down, memories flooding back that'll stay with him for years. "Our blood has been spilled defending our homes since then," he says solemnly.
F's fingers dug into her hakama, almost tearing into them in anger. "How could this happen," she whispers again and again. She remembers Jiro's tears, Corde's father dying in a republic factory, and the fires in the temple.
F was screaming inside, 'How could the Republic do such a thing?! The Separatists and their droids were supposed to be the villains, our only targets! Not innocent people! Not the Jedi!'
The small tram came to a stop, signaling their arrival. Atawa got up and gestured for F to exit first. She combed her hair to recollect her mind before leaving.
The streets of Balisa were busy with life, with hundreds passing through the wide streets. Many stone buildings were either domed or rectangular in shape, with local engines powered by a blue power cell providing energy for lights, the aqueducts, and other essentials. Men, women, and children went about their day. F bypass schools and small parks where kids played, a dynamic library housing thousands of codex's, and a district where craftsmen create marvelous-looking energy batteries and wooden flying machines in their workshops. However, many around F quietly worried about the state of things out there. She senses how the war affected everyone here, how they've been ripped away from their homes, families, or both. A towering structure about four stories high had many men and women sitting outside, each of them covered in either bloody or scorched bandages.
F and Atawa stare at the dozens waiting to be taken care of by the overpacked hospital. Atawa speaks softly, "Though we possess over a thousand warriors, they outnumber us, and their monstrous war machines are nigh-unstoppable." He stares into the distress of passersby and the pain of the wounded, "such needless suffering caused by one act of cruel betrayal."
His words and people's story made F share with a soft whisper, "I know the feeling." F blinks in a moment of doubt in continuing, but the sight of what has become of her comrades, her very past nearly killing her, has flared up these bottled-up memories that she can't hold down anymore. "I…know what it's like to be betrayed and lose a family."
Atawa ponders her words and walks ahead, "I'm supposed to escort you to the war room under the city council's request…but I feel like you should see something first."
F nods and follows Atawa through the streets of Balica.
Going through the market square and past some residential streets, Atawa leads F to a small shrine structure which leads to a cave entrance with dozens of candles adorning the door. Descending down a flight of stairs, Atawa stops to say, "it's just us now, and I won't share what you have to say if you wish. That is if you even still feel like sharing."
F, averting her gaze to stare at a candle flame, nods.
"Then…has something happened to the Jedi?" he asks delicately.
F takes a shaky breath, "yeah. The Republic, or the empire now, deemed us as traitors. Then...e-everyone but me was…." F still couldn't find the will to say it, shutting her eyes as her scar began to burn.
Atawa can piece together F's words and process the news with a concerned gaze. He looks back at F, "you're still here like our city stands even after such misery. I trust the Jedi have tried their best as well and are still out–"
"And what if they're not?! What if I'm all that's…." F said, her voice louder and unnerved with her hands quivering. "This purge is just another case of the order being too blinded by war and obedience to see the atrocities the Republic was doing right under their noses!" F felt her voice choke up, and her vision became watery but continued venting, "by the Force, w-why are you even treating me with such hospitality? I got here by chance and only stayed because I saw a bit of myself in a lost, frightened boy…you should hate me for my order abandoning you!"
Atawa stood silent until he knew F had said all she wanted. The moment she did, F quickly turned her back, hiding under her hood and rubbing her eyes in vain to recollect herself. It was then Atawa spoke, "You could be right. In fact, you are in most of what you shared. Never before have we seen the order so narrow in its actions. Its blindness, and the senators, has led to great suffering of my people and now the Jedi themselves. However, I can not in good conscience feel any justice from what happened to your order…the malicious destruction to a family is pain I wish to no one."
F glances at Atawa as she hugs herself with her arms.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you, padawan," he says earnestly.
F slowly faces him, still covering her eyes with her cloak, "Jedi, the order and now padawan? How much do you know, I-I thought Ragoon was isolationist."
"To the republic, yes, but to the Jedi…" he says, leading F to a pair of stone doors and revealing what's inside, "they've been like friends to us."
Before F was a long hall with lanterns designed like those in the temple. On each wall were paintings of dozens of different Jedi with specific items and emblems below unique to that Jedi. Incense sat beside each image, alongside aged branches with golden leaves.
"Everyone of these Jedi was seen as heroes of their time," Atawa explains to an awed F, "and in our culture, being given the rare and valuable Ina branch was the sign of highest respect to those we see as a part of our community. Like the branch itself, the memory of their deeds will remain for generations."
F observed each painting, sketched in an art form similar to Sinta's drawings. F saw that each one showed a great act that Jedi performed. F was stunned at the many paintings, including a Kessurian Jedi healing the sick, a Zabrak Jedi slaying a great beast, and a human Jedi climbing a mountain so high they could touch the heavens. F saw an Ithorian Jedi bringing peace between warring clans, a Rodian Jedi helping construct several towers through the Force, and a Theelin Jedi holding and diverting an entire flood.
F hovers her hand over two portraits that made her gasp, "is that Master Gios and Master Arkoff? But these are Jedi from the High Republic era, over two hundred years ago."
"Two hundred and forty, to be exact," Atawa specifies with a smirk. "For over ten generations, we have had close relations with the Jedi who we felt shared our understanding of the value of the land and life. When a Jedi needed a place to connect with the gods or were in dire trouble from dark forces, our land was one of the first safe havens to go…perhaps your arrival isn't a coincidence but fate itself."
F looks up to the Jedi before her, depicting their great deeds at a time of prosperity when legend told of the Jedi being the most powerful, but that time has passed. Staring at these great Jedi, F looks back at herself and scoffs, "Except these Jedi still had the order behind them or were Jedi knights. The order's gone…, and I'm only a padawan."
"Trained or not, we still have a hidden advantage," Atawa insists, pulling out the paper handed to F by Sinta's sister. "I know my niece. She plans to strike at the heart of this terrible guild's operations."
"Freedom from below…." F whispers, "is she planning a prison riot?"
"It is a desperate plan, yes. One that'll require all of our help…and I know we can succeed with your power."
F stands frozen, contemplating the task before her. She glances at the eyes of the Jedi, feeling judgment from them as they stare at her. She walks out of the hall and tells Atawa, "I'm not like these Jedi. I can't heal, slay great beasts or even bring real hope. I'll do what I can but don't expect greatness… I'm sorry the Jedi left you with me."
She leaves the hall but not before Atawa says to her, "we don't expect greatness from you. Only your willingness to do what you can for our people."
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
F huddles beside the fire of her hut, wrapped by her cloak while the sun peeks through the curtains.
Returning from the meeting with the council, they informed her of their scouts' report of colonists planning a significant attack on the woodlands. If their last line of defense is destroyed, the colonists will undoubtedly find their sanctuary and burn it to the ground. "Over two thousand against just a thousand," F whispers, her mind strategizing their next move with only a dozen hours before the battle begins.
She already activated her ship's beacon, and it's currently flying to her location through the autopilot system. The Ragoonians' flying machines were best suited for ground support, leaving her the sole duty of eliminating who knows how many ships these colonists possess. "The colonists have superiority in manpower, vehicles, and the air…" she whispers, imagining how many will die to make victory possible.
Of course, this isn't including the Imperial troopers still out there. The mere thought of these cold, cruel troopers sent a shiver down F's spine. It undoubtedly felt like the work of this new emperor. Only a sith would know how to exploit a Jedi's greatest weakness.
Sith. A word that stuck fear and disgust in her heart.
A knock comes from the door, and Sinta lets himself in. F gives a small smile, even when her mind told her he was scared of her after what she killed in front of him. Sinta fidgeted by the door as if unsure what to say or do next. F smile wanes, she lowers her head in shame of doing something so horrible in front of him, "I'm sorry, Sinta. I brought something terrible to your world, and it nearly–" but before she could finish, Sinta wrapped his arms around her. "F," he whimpered, frightened not of her but of almost losing a friend. F didn't say anything and patted him on the head, relieved that she was not a monster or killer in his eyes.
"I'm not…some monster!"
F shuts away the painful memory and focuses on comforting the scared boy. She assures him she won't be going anywhere, even with no words. After a while, both stare into the fire, thinking about what will happen in tomorrow's battle. The council made this invasion public to all and began evacuation plans if their defense failed.
Another home being destroyed, another family separated.
Sinta pulls out their sketchbook, one of the few things he saved from the skirmish. He draws and shows F a picture of going to save his sister. F knew they had a plan ready to break the prisoners free but also knew it required someone of small stature to achieve. She knows he's unaware of the real danger that'll put him in. If something were to go wrong or if he gets caught amidst the outbreak of violence, his death would be on her. She shakes her head and draws a quick sketch of herself before scribbling on it to convey that she can't have him see such violence again. Not like she has.
Sinta huffs, showing her sketches of what he's been through and his sister, who's now as alone as he was. F shuts her eyes, knowing that he's right, and sees how passionate he is to save his family, yet fear and doubt fester within her. 'What if something happens…and I have to be the one to tell his sister her brother is dead? I've vowed they will see each other again,' she thought as her scar burned again.
Sinta saw as F lowered her head, her fingers traced over the mask where her scar was. He nervously taps his fingers before sketching her mask's blue emblem. He puts his fingers over his lips to mimic fangs, his way of finally asking why she wears such a terrifying symbol.
F doesn't know how to convey her answer, so she swallows down her nerves and tells him earnestly, "Because…I am scared of others discovering who I am. They'll likely hurt me for who I am. I am scared of connecting with others because I fear losing them. But I'm mostly scared and ashamed of myself because I failed and lost everything…again."
Sinta listened the best he could, despite the language barrier.
F looks away, staring at the fire that reminds her of home, "remember my vow to you? Well, I suppose I took my own vow concerning my mask. I vowed to never show my face to anyone ever again. Not until I redeem myself, free myself of the dark side's chains and prove myself worthy of becoming a Jedi Knight."
F fingers shift from her mask to her padawan braid, one she nearly cut off when it seemed no hope existed. When the world grew darker, and her heart couldn't bear such despair, she was so close to cutting herself from this life forever. 'Heh, and now I can't recall why I stopped…but I did, so now I have to live with that decision,' she tells herself. She knew Sinta was still gazing at her, that few of her words reached him, but the weight on her chest feels lighter than it has in months.
Sinta shows her a sketch of a brave warrior, marked with blue fangs, fending off a pack of ferocious canines. A warrior wielding a glowing sword and using its light to ward off a great beast. A warrior protecting two children from terrifying men in white and black. Sinta finishes by showing her a sketch of their times sitting by the fire and a brave warrior vowing to a lonely boy to ensure he is no longer alone.
"F is a Jedi," Sinta tells her as if it were fact. "I must help my sister."
He drops the sketch on her lap and leaves F by the crackling fire. Doubt still lingering within her.
"Then leave…" Sagiso's words echo in her memories.
Its yellow glow reflected on her iris, her gaze turning from uncertainty to acceptance. Telling herself, "I can't, and these new stormtroopers shouldn't change that. They're still my men, and I know them as much as they know me."
"Then don't keep isolating yourself…face this problem before it worsens, and do it with a vow to control your destiny. This isn't the end yet."
F grips her braid while remembering Sagiso's first advice to her, turning her eyes to one of fierce determination. "Right, my story won't end here," she whispered, tucking the sketchbook in her bag and leaving her hut. Venturing out to find an answer to tomorrow's battle.
By daylight tomorrow, these colonists will know the full force of this planet's people and feel no mercy from their gods.
A/N: Phew! This one was quite the doozy. Originally this was gonna include the battle but I've decided to split it into two so to stay on schedule. I always have stuff coming up this weekend that'll keep me away for the next two days so I thought I post. We have our first battle with the Purge Troopers and it was a bit of a gut punch to F, can you imagine what a battle with an Inquisitor would go down? We also see the whispers of the shadow has never left F, with the trauma from the Purge not making them almost frequent again. Also threw in some High Republic references there, and don't expect this to be the last too! I've also decided to announce this arc will contain 15 chapters, yeah I can safely say that's the length.
The first three were the Aradia Arc, the 4th is now an Interlude ch. and these past two are the Ragoon Arc. Hope you all look forward to what's in store!