In The Shadows of An Empire.
This is the first chapter in a multi-part series that tells the tales of Jedi who somehow survived the Jedi Purge, and what their life is now like. Enjoy.
Dancing to Live.
She can't believe it had come to this. But then again, she didn't know what to believe anymore… not since it happened.
Nar Shadaa.
She had been lucky to find refuge in one of the seedier parts of town, not that there really wasn't any part of this whole planet that wasn't seedy. At present time, she found employment in the aptly named Tawdry Merc as one of the many dancers who performed night after night for the always boisterous crowd of spacers, bounty hunters, smugglers, and others of a similar ilk. It wasn't always this way. It was never meant to be this way.
She had once been Jedi Padawan Sarai Yayhu, apprenticed to Jedi Master Ora Baanah. She had been one of several thousand members of an illustrious Jedi Order that spanned millennia, that was almost as old as the galaxy was itself. Now all that was gone, burnt to ashes, never to be seen again.
With pulsing lights flashing across the room, and thumping synthe music threatening to burst her eardrums, Sarai – or Adina, as she was now known – swung around a pole, landing in a crouch before the excited spectators. She swayed to one side, then the other, before spinning on her heel, thus revealing her thong clad rear to the audience. She stood, and a loud cheer let out when she spread her feet apart and jut her hip right then left in a rhythmic pattern.
She still remembers that fateful day. The war was supposed to be over. Skywalker and Kenobi, the amazing, unstoppable duo, had rescued the Supreme Chancellor from the grips of the fiendish General Grievous, and even managed to slay the traitorous instigator of the whole conflict, Count Dooku. Then it happened. Order Sixty-Six. Those words will forever ring in her ears as a never-ending nightmare… words that she wishes were never uttered.
She and Master Baanah had been part of the Jedi team directing the Republic forces on the planet Ithor. The peaceful Ithorians had stayed out of the fight for the most part, and mainly assisted the clone brigades stationed there with tactical readouts of the vast forests that covered the planet as well as technological support when needed. They, along with the Quarren Jedi Master Poz Weru, his Yarkora apprentice Vulyt, and the Duros Jedi Knight Grahn Koj were basically overseeing the final stages of the Republic's victory, and the handing over of control back to the Ithorian Planetary Council. This of course meant that the last remnants of the Separatist droid armies were being destroyed, and that a vast multitude of clone troopers were swarming the planet. It was the perfect set up. Sarai still couldn't believe that her venerable Master Baanah hadn't foreseen the outcome. She recalls seeing the clone commander, a man – no, not even that, a man couldn't do what he did – named Tal, receive a holo-transmission from some robed figure. She was out of earshot, and failed to pick up what the message had been.
Out of no where, blue blaster bolts had ripped through Grahn Koj. As his smoking corpse fell to the ground with a voiceless scream, the others had ignited their sabers and leapt backward to distance themselves from their attackers. Then the barrage of deadly beams of energy opened up on them. Poor Vulyt, who, due to his large size was an easy target, was the second Jedi to fall that day. Master Weru, anguished over the loss of his Padawan, yelled for Master Baanah and Sarai to flee while he provided for their escape. There was no time to argue. As they fled, Master Weru leapt forward, hand outstretched in a massive force push, scattering the clone troopers into disarray. After cutting down dozens of white-armored traitors, he, too was overwhelmed, and joined the Force.
Sarai – Adina approached the edge of the stage and bent over, shaking her ample bust above the heads of some spice miners. The mesh top she wore did little to conceal anything, and she blushed slightly at having to degrade herself in such a manner. She wasn't sure it could get any worse than this… which it could, in actuality. Adina once overheard some of the other dancers discussing how they had also taken job opportunities in the prostitution profession, not far from where she now cavorted on stage. She cringed inwardly at the horrid thought.
Sarai had always been self conscious about her body while at the Jedi Temple. The awkwardness began when she hit twelve, and her curvy figure had begun to develop. Suddenly, all her male friends, particularly the other humans, began to become uneasy around her, as if something was distracting them. When Master Baanah had taken Sarai as her apprentice, she had done her best in the way of offering advice about the situation.
"Every part of a woman's body has been designed with a function in mind," she used to say. Sarai knew that her womanly features were biologically meant to produce and nurture offspring, but as a Jedi, she knew she would never have that experience. Why then, she would ask, should she have these "hindrances" to her mission in life as a servant of the Republic?
"Everything's purpose will be revealed in time, as the Force wills," was her master's response. Sarai wished she had prodded her master more about the subject when she had the chance… She still remembered her teenage years, especially one particular incident when she was sparring hand-to-hand with another Padawan. They were both 17 at the time, and Sarai had noticed the usual feeling of airiness about her opponent as soon as the match had begun. Although he was the physically stronger of the two, she seemed to be having her way with him, landing blow after blow. Finally, upon reversing his grapple, she wrapped her arms around his neck in preparation for a submission hold. He immediately signaled his admittance of defeat. She realized what had happened, and tried to apologize to him, but he mumbled a quick reply and exited the training area hastily.
I can't believe this is what Master Baanah had meant about purposes being revealed, she thought to herself. For one, this was too literal, and this was far from what she had imagined. Adina let a small sigh escape her lips as several dirty hands slipped cred-notes into the sides of her thong-bikini. A Devaronian's hand grazed her hip, and rested a moment too long on her buttock. She quickly shifted her pointed heel so that it found the center of his other palm. He cried out and fell back into his seat as she flashed a sly smirk. I wonder what Master would think of all this…
Or Baanah and Sarai had managed to evade the Republic forces, which was not an easy task, for the better part of an hour. The clones knew Master Baanah and her Padawan still lived, and wouldn't be satisfied until they saw the bodies. Slowly, Ora and Sarai had made their way to the Ithorian controlled sector, where they blended in with the mixed multitude of species that dwelled there. Things were going well, until they ran into a patrol that had been assigned to sweep the crowds. Before the squad leader had positively identified them, they launched their attack, cutting the small group to pieces before any civilians were harmed. A security camera had taped the brief altercation, and their whereabouts were broadcast to every clone in the area. Several squads descended upon them in a flash. Somehow, they were able to cut a path through the enemy… before Master Baanah caught a bolt to the upper back.
In an instant, she was on the ground, cringing from the immense pain of the wound burned into her torso. Sarai had tried to stop and help, but her master had shoved her with assistance from the Force into a nearby alley. In one last act of defiance, Master Baanah had used the Force to pull the pins from the special grenades attached at the back of every clone trooper's belt, creating a massive explosion that consumed every trooper in the area. Sarai felt her Master join the Force, burning brighter than the blast had. Fighting back tears, she made her get-away before the smoke had cleared, and was thus not detected by any roving security cams or droids. From there, she used a false ID from an old mission and managed to get off planet aboard a public transport cruiser. Her own death had been reported as having taken place in her Master's blaze of martyrdom, so the newly created Empire wasn't actively searching for her… at least for now. Sarai had used her remaining credits to get to Nar Shaada, deep within the Hutt controlled part of space, where she hoped she would never be discovered.
A grizzled Gran motioned her over with a meaty fist full of cred-notes. She hugged her breasts together and reached out to stroke beneath his chin with her index finger. After handing her the creds, he promptly blew a puff of smoke from his hooka almost directly into her face. She exhaled sharply and stomped, albeit gracefully, back to the center of the stage. The blue Twi'lek dancer came over to her and they danced with one another, to the delight of the crowd. Sarai had once known a Twi'lek Jedi named Aayla Secura, whom she had heard was on the planet Felucia at the end of the war. Sarai wondered if she had somehow survived the treachery of her own troops…
Sarai had always been very involved in dancing, especially in her youth at the Temple. To her, it provided a way to simply release herself into the Living Force and flow along with its currents. Her style of combat was also very fluid and elegant as a result. On many missions with Master Baanah, she would often lose herself in the moment, giving into the Living Force to such an extent that her Master had to chide her for being too in tune with the ebb and flow of the Force. All that mattered during those moments was the footwork of the dance at hand, how to perform the most sinuous attack and counterattacks. This left her oblivious to sudden outside influence, from those not directly involved in her 'dance.' Ever since the day her Master was slain, though, she had been able to find the proper balance between the two extremes. Although some might attribute it to a sudden gain in maturity, Sarai felt that she had suddenly lost a portion of her connection to the Living Force, and thus was prevented from reaching such a state as she once had. While this was particularly useful for her current life, she had a deep longing in her heart to once again be able to feel that complete immersion within the Force.
The music pumped out its ending crescendo, and Adina and her cohort struck a final pose for the audience. As soon as the lights dimmed, Adina raced to the back of the stage into the dressing area and threw her cloak over her shoulders to cover up. Even though she'd had this gig for several months now, she knew she would never get used to the idea. At the very least though, she made enough money to survive adequately, and she honestly doubted anyone would ever really suspect a Jedi of turning into a night-club dancer. These factors helped balance out the depravity she had to expose herself to on a nightly basis in order to survive. Which is what she really was doing… simply surviving. When the entire galaxy has a price on your head, you take what you can get.
Adina affixed her chrono to her arm and noticed it was well past midnight. She threw on some loose slacks and her boots, close up her small locker and headed out the back door into the night. On her way to her apartment, she stopped by an all-night market and bought a few things to eat with her earnings. She munched a grain-bar as she mounted the stairs, and promptly flung her purchases across the counter before flopping onto her sleep-couch. Adina rubbed her over-tired eyes, and hoped that for once, the nightmares would allow her one full night's worth of rest. Staring at the darkness of the ceiling, she thought of old friends and times gone by, as sleep slowly enveloped her.
