Finally, after a long hiatus, a new chapter is up. Bear with me, I am trying to achieve some stuff and life is busy. A special greeting to all you faithful readers. I dedicate this chapter to Hzleys87 (whose kind review was left unaddressed for too long).
Zygerria
Before sunrise, Obi-Wan woke up, shivering from the cold and shaking from built-up fatigue and pain. He noticed the Zygerrian guards were setting up something that looked suspiciously like gallows down in the valley, right next to where they forced slaves into digging holes in the ground. Whatever the slavers had in mind, it sure didn't bode well for them.
Obi-Wan blinked, then looked at the rock formations all around him, inhaling invigorating cold air as he replayed his most recent dream in his head. Satine had felt so close tonight. She was tranquil and reassuring, stroking his face and taking his hands in hers as she implicitly promised that she would stick by him, always. She brushed off his guilt-ridden, apologetic words without fail, her gaping darksaber hole ablaze and visible through a long baby-blue dress. He grimaced, attempting to heal it, but Satine stopped his hand, shaking her head. He was trembling. "Martyrdom" he heard himself say, with infinite sadness. Satine shook her head: "Prosperity" she countered, kissing him awake on the eyelids.
After this, Obi-Wan slowly came back to his senses, opening his eyes to the grim, unbearable reality of suffering all around him, a stark contrast to what he'd just experienced. He looked at the slaves who were asleep, or better yet, knocked up, and then he looked at the newly installed gallows. To a Jedi, that sight was intolerable. He realized he couldn't stand any of it anymore. He realized he felt doped, also. Doped by Satine's spirit. A very dangerous combo. He sprung upright, only to realize how achy he was. A pained sound escaped his throat, catching him by surprise.
Were it not for insistent Duchess-centered dreams, sleep would become yet another chore. He'd had enough of everything Kadavo had to offer. As if waking up to tears and bidding the day farewell to laments weren't enough, the captive Jedi also had to be confronted with the prisoners' induced despondency on a hourly basis. Those who slaved away alongside him were hopeless, broken people whose only solace rested in the prospect of an ever-imminent death, one that would inevitably bring peace unto their troubled bodies and souls. He felt he could no longer ignore the fact that it was his duty to help liberate them.
There were, however, exceptions. Hardy men and women who would never bow to their captors. People who still had something worth fighting for, who would rather die slaying enemies, than die begging on their knees. For this reason, Kenobi made the most insane decision of the year that morning, one that brought on nostalgia of his Padawan experience. You wish, he told himself, as he dragged his feet towards the most fiesty, sulphurous and reactive of the prisoners, sentients whose raw courage he had witnessed more than once in the past days. Filthy with reddish dirt from the coppery soil, ragged and closely approaching the definition of savage, Obi-Wan crossed natural rock corridors to reach them.
As he expected, the surly bunch, who slept all huddled up together like a wolfpack, perked their necks at his arrival, their senses heightened.
Good - he thought, unleashed.
"It's time to make a choice" he solemnly stated, picking a long heavy spade up from the ground.
Coughing and spitting phlegm, the prisoners threw a couple of pebbles at him.
"Yeah, it's either shut up or be silenced!" one of them barked.
"Well, not exactly what I had in mind... we either die for their entertainment..." he pointed at the gallows, furrowing his brow.
"Or we die for our freedom" he put a hand on his hip, glancing around and savoring the sour irony of it all.
"How?" the burly bunch sounded more accomodating now that they'd taken notice of the Zygerrians bustling about the valley, setting up the stage for hangings.
"Lucky for you, I think we have the answer. The Zygerrians control us from that fortress up there" Obi-Wan pointed at the tiny, old citadel peeking from behind a few rocks and mounds of dirt and soil. His military knowledge proved to be priceless, under those circumstances.
"It's where they organize themselves, it's where they receive orders, store weapons and outline plans to beat us into submission, all the while reaping the fruits of our free labor. We must conquer it" he added, realizing he ought to exploit the general feeling of discontent to gain traction. He was convinced he wasn't exactly cut for such up front populist leader roles, but what choice did he have? Action was now or never.
The reactive slaves, on their part, had much to discuss. They sure put their dignity above all else, and Obi-Wan had been right to predict that the gruesome morning sight of what was to come would stir up their conscience, detaching it from the last bit of inhibitory fear, once and for all.
He himself felt readier than ever. He was beat-up and force-suppressed, but he came to accept that the price of inaction would be far higher than incurring a (likely) bloodbath. Nobody would rescue him if he didn't attempt doing it himself, not now that the Jedi were vanquished, anyways. Things were only bound to get worse in any case, but he could make a difference by affirming his free will, awakening that of unfortunate fellow slaves as a consequence of his actions, or waiting in submission for death to arrive. Obi-Wan chose the former. In the name of Satine, who had paid first-hand for his hesitation and in the name of Anakin, the child-slave, whose life lessons he had learned far too late, he would do everything in his power to uplift the weak and the oppressed all around him. Their pain reminded him of Satine's last moments every day. A strange sense of peace pervaded him, allowing him to forget his achy bones.
"Is this why you keep appearing in my dreams, Satine? Is this what you want me to do? Liberate these people?" He knew she'd approve of his plan, having sacrificed the best years of life herself to prevent countless Mandalorians from becoming victims of preventable civil wars, but he also knew that first and foremost she'd encourage him to live to his fullest, unapologetic potential. Something that he was about to do, without turning back, even if it meant he wouldn't live to see another day.
He addressed his companions: "It seems like you're in need of an assault plan. Lucky for you, I happen to have a little bit of experience in this field" he dropped the hint, almost smirking.
His proposal was met by hoarse cheers and growls.
Star Destroyer
Padme was inside her cell, attempting to cradle two fussy newborns at once as she tried to evaluate whether to exit exploring or not. Everything was silent, but could she really trust appearances? Eventually, the wear and tear of being stuck in the same tiny room for days had the upper hand over caution, as she asked R2 to unlock the sliding door.
She peeked outside, leaning her back against the cold steely wall, having left the twins inside for good measure. Right as she began studying the corridor of the Star Destroyer, fully intentioned on finding as much as a hint for a way out, the dark silhouette of her husband appeared storming in her field of vision, a murderous expression on his otherwise handsome face.
Her intestines twisting, Padme reasoned that it sure felt strange calling that thing her husband, as she blinked hard, as if hoping that by doing so old Anakin would finally materialize in front of her. But if she hoped her eyes could be tricking her, her ears surely couldn't be lying.
"YOU BETRAYED ME!" Vader venomously spat, cornering her menacingly.
Padme was shocked, but not really surprised, all seen and considered.
"Anakin..." she attempted, opting to try the diplomatic route. After nearly a week of living in little more than a cupboard with two babies and a C-section wound, she was, after all, tired of all that escalating nonsense.
All Anakin did, though, was lifting her up like a whole ham and releasing her inside her room, making her wince in fear. The twins, sensing it, woke up screaming. As she had suspected, not even her status as a family member would be enough to shield her from his unreliable temper.
"Why are you doing this, now?!" her voice must've come out really weird, but it only had the effect of angering her fallen husband even further.
"You two conspired behind my back" he seethed, a sneer transfiguring his face.
"What are you talking about!?" Padme's eyes darted in every direction. She was truly scared, now, the Luke and Leia's cries only amplifying her dread.
"You know perfectly well what I am talking about! I've seen the way you look at him, with my own two eyes!"
"Him who?!" Padme sounded desperate "Anakin... your eyes aren't your eyes anymore..." she added, staring into the serpentine yellow orbs.
Sensing sincere confusion within her, Anakin paused for a moment, a flash of reason and humanity back in his gaze. Padme noticed that, the sliver of hope she dared not hoping for, and moved a tentative step forward "Whatever it is you're accusing me of doing... you're wrong, Anakin".
Vader's hesitation was short lived though, his bloodthirsty resolve setting in.
"I will deal with you later" he threatened, stepping back in the corridor and moving a hand to lock Padme in, effectively imprisoning her.
"Don't do this, Anakin! Don't you think about your children?"
"Why don't you ask Obi-Wan to come rescue you, now?" Vader spat manically. He then rushed across the corridor before waiting for an answer, turning a corner in a haste to reach his new TIE fighter.
Her plans for an escape vanishing, Padme fell on her knees, sobbing and attempting to interpret Anakin's behavior. Why was he after Obi-Wan, now? Considering the way he had effortlessly killed all those younglings and adults at the Temple, Padme feared for her friend's life.
Unbeknownst to her, though, her sincere astonishment had managed to spark a seed of doubt within her husband's blackened heart.
Mandalore System
Leaving the old droid shed had been much harder than anticipated.
Every time Satine attempted getting out the door, believing everything to be ready and in place, Mara Jade woke up crying and needing her, as if sensing that she would be left alone. This had inevitably delayed the former Duchess' schedule. Satine, on her part, didn't have it in her to walk out while her tiny daughter was in such distraugt state. The decision of undertaking the dangerous rescue mission was already crushing her as it was, the bare minimum she could do was at least making sure that Mara Jade would be content and asleep when she... well, left her.
Hence, Satine took it slow, cradling her baby to sleep while speaking Mando'a to her, holding her against her skin until she closed her eyelids, relishing those moments, as short-lived as they were. Entrusting her care to F-39, Satine wrapped the newborn with the clothes she'd worn the previous day, hoping that they'd convey closeness.
When she did, eventually, exit the shed, it was mid-morning, she was wearing the beskar'gam, carrying weapons in a backpack and doing her best to stop tears from rolling down her cheeks.
Daylight made the surrounding environment appear more welcoming. Windswept trees and chirping birds were in stark contrast with what she expected to see on Zygerria. That Force-forsaken place.
Reaching Dooku's spaceship took the remainder of the morning and half of the afternoon. She wondered how many times Mara Jade would wake up in just that initial period of time, trying not to linger on the sensations the little one must be going through. She was thankful the droid shed was far enough from the spaceship parking site so as not to attract any undesired Mando visitors, hopefully. As she walked across the thick forest, all by herself, she thought of quitting a couple of times, on the verge of panic.
But she carried on, allowing the surrounding nature to give her strength, trying to feel the Force as she did while pregnant, attempting to only see the big picture so as to forget her immediate fear.
It took unmeasured faith and focus to believe that her plan would work out. The first step, she reckoned as she valiantly climbed on the spaceship, was to believe in it herself. Feeling very spiritual while mentally affirming her strength at the same time, Satine typed the coordinates to Grebak, Zygerria, the location Dooku's tracker was indicating.
As the engines rumbled, ready to shoot the spacecraft into an interstellar travel, Satine wished for the power of a million stars.