Entry Fifty-Two – Days after Geonosis, Three Hundred Forty-Four
The Kume priestess, rings and lines together, completed the teaching. Disparate pieces fit together into a whole now. I can see a new path there. Layers, combine planes seeded throughout the Force and the physical, natural concretions of energy, life, and matter. My eyes are open to this new stratum of existence and at the same time I have always known it was there, under the microscope. It is simply a matter of adjusting the scale of my sight.
A pity I cannot form the indestructible panels that leap from the priestess' fingertips at a gesture. My barriers are more like membranes, soft and porous. I feel I lack the strength to handle this power, or perhaps I cannot find the proper source in the luminosity of the Force. I do not know, and I could only apologize to the eerily patient prophetess for my weakness while she smiled behind a veil of lustrous hair.
I do not think I can measure up to the hopes of these women. Hardly a Jedi's conviction that, but I am only a doctor, not some hero out of prophecy. That one is off in the Outer Rim fighting the Separatists. Pity he's not here, he could probably take down a yellow with a single flick of his lightsaber. The holonews certainly makes it sound like it.
Why am I the one here? Why is it not Skywalker or some other legend? I thought the Force sent me to the underworld to try and ease the burdens of its people. I have done my best to achieve that and can even say I've had a measure of success. But all my efforts to halt the hidden threat have done little. Minor setbacks are all I can point too, and desperate escapes that endanger others. That is what I have managed. All I can truly say is that I have learned how to identify this enemy, to feel it out, but that is no more than the first step in defeating it. The rest of the path remains hidden.
There have been no further contacts. Not from any of the feelers put out by Logas, Morne, or any other agent. Isoxya has gone hunting in the lower reaches, but even this turns up nothing. I think the bleak mind has pulled back its strength to make ready. I cannot trust all the claims made by these priestesses, but their belief that the blow is about to fall feels correct. Pity we cannot even guess what form it might take.
I have requested support, but it is the usual litany. All asserts committed. It is not merely a Jedi matter. Logas' has gone to his overseers and received an equally terse dismissal. His aggravation at the lack of assistance overrode any chance of deception. Even the Coruscant Guard is no aid, for a general reduction in Separatist activity has seen plans to deploy additional clone units to the underworld temporarily shelved. It seems whatever the true nature of this threat, the Bucket will face it alone.
I suspect this reflects the view of those above that this sunken realm, this aptly named underworld, is expendable.
One thing I do know. This is wrong. If this place crumbles the reverberations shall trigger a cascade none can control.
Somehow I will have to be strong enough when the time comes.
It is a lonely vow, and my clinic feels cold in the warm dark.