AN: OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED! This chapter is so long! I hope you guys appreciate it. I can't feel my fingers! Let me know how you're liking this. I can go in a lot of directions from here, so let me know what you guys want to see, if you like where it's headed, etc. Enjoy, lovelies!
Chapter 2: Sundari
Obi-Wan sat in the pilot's seat of the Consular-class cruiser Radiant V, a faint smile on his lips as his eyes roved over the console before him, all blinking lights and buttons and switches and displays, the cockpit filled with the smooth, even hum of the hyperdrive and low, pulsating thrum of the engines. His hands rested delicately, so, so gently on the acceleration lever and the control yoke, though he had no need to actively pilot the ship in the blue and white tunnel of the hyperspace corridor, but he liked the feel of them beneath his hands. The ship's captain, a small, strongly built woman with short, dark hair and the severe face of many that served in the Judicial forces, was kind enough to allow the young Jedi to sit in her seat and pilot them out of Coruscant's atmosphere and into hyperspace for a quick jump to Brentaal before setting course for Mandalore via the Hydian Way. He had yet to give up the seat, but the captain didn't seem to mind.
There was something peaceful and soothing about sitting in the captain's chair of a starship, something that went beyond the freedom of traveling among the stars. Perhaps it was the soothing hum of the engines, a thing that seemed to resonate deep within him. Perhaps it was simply the freedom of opportunity, to sit in a vessel that could spirit him away to...well, anywhere. There was wonder and life and beauty among the stars, be it on planets, tamed and ordered, or wild and teeming with possibilities, or in space itself, a thousand different species on a thousand, thousand ships like his own, in search of adventure or enterprise, but all united in the vastness of space through the Force.
Or perhaps it was simply that Obi-Wan had yet to believe he would be a Jedi. Being a Padawan wasn't a guarantee of knighthood, and there were many ways that an apprentice could fail. He had always liked the idea of flying, had always been good with mechanics, and had spent a great deal of time learning about them as a youngling when his prospects were more bleak. Perhaps his comfort piloting a starship had more to do with that than with the freedom that flight afforded. But still...there was so much to see, so much to do in the vast, beautiful galaxy that he had sworn to protect. So many different worlds, so many different people, and Obi-Wan wanted to see it all, experience all of it. There was adventure to be had in the freedom of flight, the pulse of life and the Force so prominent, so alive, so beautiful that-
Adventure. Excitement. A Jedi craves not these things.
Obi-Wan grit his teeth, his delicate grip tightening so his knuckles whitened, his eyes shut tightly as the small, stern, raspy voice of Master Yoda echoed in his mind. He was a quiet person, one that preferred to be alone, one that sought peace and quiet more often than not, but every now and then, the Padawan would find his heart aching for the stars, his natural curiosity and desire for knowledge driving him to explore, to discover, to learn, and one simply couldn't do that locked away in a Temple in quiet contemplation. He simply didn't understand how it was he could protect the galaxy and all the different beings within, with their different biology, their different home worlds, their varying cultures and beliefs if he didn't know them. Understand them. Experience them.
He felt it again, the pull for adventure, the thrill and excitement that came from new discoveries, and he swallowed hard and tried to force it away, but his mind would not be calmed. It couldn't, not here at the helm of a ship on the way to a new place, not when, whether he wanted it or not, adventure lay in wait just beyond the tunnel of hyperspace.
"There is no emotion, there is peace, there is no ignorance, there is knowledge, there is no passion, there is serenity, there is no chaos, there is harmony, there is no death, there is the Force..." He closed his eyes and took a deep, shivering breath. "Come on, Obi-Wan, get it together...you're just nervous, that's all..."
Perhaps that was something that he could gain from his time on Mandalore. Perhaps he would better understand the warrior race. Perhaps there was something more to them than their history portrayed. Perhaps there was a reason, a purpose to all their senseless violence, one that could be explained with an understanding of their culture, by time living among them, and in understanding, perhaps peace could be achieved. Perhaps...
Obi-Wan felt his chest brace against his flight restraints as the blue and white of hyperspace gave way to the black of space, the stars snapping back into their bright pinpoints against the black canvas, and Obi-Wan could feel his heart beat faster as he looked out the forward viewport at the planet that hung before them. Even from space, Mandalore's desolation was apparent, and if he didn't know better, Kenobi would have thought he was looking at a dead world. The pale, lifeless color of ash, Mandalore's surface was pockmarked with deep craters, the results of ancient orbital bombardments of past wars. The surface was barren in appearance, no signs of life apparent at all, and lacking the bright vibrance of the sand of even the most harsh and hostile desert worlds. Those worlds were alive, despite the hot, unforgiving days and cold, frigid nights, a desert teeming with life even in the harshest conditions. But Mandalore...Mandalore was dead.
"Not what you were expecting, my student?" Qui-Gon asked softly as he entered the cockpit, the door hissing softly as it opened to admit the Master. Obi-Wan didn't even turn around. He just sat with his eyes transfixed as he slowly moved the Radiant V closer to the ashen planet.
"I didn't know what to expect..." Obi-Wan muttered softly. "But it wasn't this. Are we too late? Nothing can live there, surely..."
"It's true that Mandalore's past wars have desolated the planet. Once, long ago, it's said that Mandalore was quite beautiful, until their fighting irradiated its surface. But the Mandalorians are stubborn. They refused to give up their home world, and they have found a way to survive."
"...life truly is amazing," Kenobi muttered, sighing heavily as he hung his head. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything different from a people who's language consists mostly of curses and a thousand ways to threaten someone."
Qui-Gon smiled wryly at the boy. "Difficult with the language, Obi-Wan?"
"The grammar is simple," he quickly explained. "A great deal like Galactic Basic, actually, but the words..." He finally took his eyes away from the planet as it slowly began to fill the viewport. "Three hours of study, and I can't begin a conversation without starting a fight. No wonder they're at war, they can't even speak to each other without being threatening or insulting, it leaves no room at all for diplomacy."
"Well, they are Mandalorian..." Qui-Gon said, a hand on his student's shoulder and smiling softly down at him. "Perhaps this Duchess of theirs can bring about a new way. Her dossier says she has studied diplomacy on Coruscant for a short while."
"No doubt in Basic..." the Padawan mumbled. "I wonder how that translates into Mando'a." The Master said nothing, but Obi-Wan felt his hand tighten on his shoulder and the soft, insistent, inquisitive push upon his consciousness, and he sighed, silent for a moment as he collected his thoughts. "We shouldn't even be here, Master..." Obi-Wan said softly. "The Senate hasn't even reached consensus on the matter. This is an internal affair, and Mandalore's leader doesn't even want us there. "
"But we are here, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his voice taking on the hard edge it always did when he was instructing his student. "What should or should not be is out of our hands because we are. Right here, in this moment, we are protectors, keepers of the peace, and it's up to us to save this woman's life. Your vision is far reaching, my Padawan. Surely see can see the importance of our actions here in the pursuit of peace."
"W-well, yes, but-"
"In the moment, my Padawan. Be mindful of the present. We are saving a life. There is great value in that, regardless of the politics." Qui-Gon smiled softly when Obi-Wan flushed a deep shade of red, clearly embarrassed, and averted his eyes. "Keep your emotions guarded, Obi-Wan, lest they interfere with your ability to carry out our mission." Slowly, the boy nodded, the concern and worry present on his face melting away into his mask of removed indifference, peace settling upon him as he softly uttered the Code under his breath.
"I understand, Master. I will be mindful of my emotions. They will not interfere." Qui-Gon patted the boy on the shoulder and moved away from the pilot's chair, standing in the aisle that ran down the center of the cockpit as the Radiant V cut its way into Mandalore's atmosphere, the ship shaking with its entry. Obi-Wan was a boy that felt very deeply, his keen connection and love of life leading him to be boundlessly curious and excessively kind, an admirable trait in a Jedi that would one day lead to a fierce protective spirit, a stalwart Jedi defender that put the lives of all others far above his own. But like most things, it was a double-edged sword, one that Qui-Gon knew the dangers of all too well.
Like his student, Qui-Gon also had a deep respect for life, and his inclination to live moment by moment left him vulnerable to keenly feeling the emotions that grew within him, even if they didn't last past the present. Until they did. Until someone became hooked within him from prolonged contact, his great empathy and affection reaching out to surround those he had come to care about. Come to love and treasure, not above all others, but deep and enduring, the blanket of his protection covering not just those beside him in the moment, but those that walked beside him in his thoughts. Like Tahl...
Tahl...
Tahl was what happened when a Jedi did not take care to mind their emotions, to put aside the desire to love and defend, because when it went wrong, when they had failed in their duty to protect, as all Jedi would at some point, the emotions that arose from the guilt, the anguish, the anger of failure and loss led to revenge, the fastest path to the Dark Side. Qui-Gon had come dangerously close to walking the darkness when Tahl had been murdered, his fellow Jedi Master the victim of torture and poison so severe, she succumbed and died with Qui-Gon right beside her. He had been unable to save her, unable to stop what he had seen coming, unable to heal her weakened body fast enough. He had loved her, he had failed, and she had died, and he didn't have the strength to let her go.
She had died...
Qui-Gon shut his eyes and focused and pushed thoughts of his dead love aside. It was his constant struggle. It wasn't that the Jedi were discouraged from feeling. A great deal of what made them Jedi was the depth of their compassion, but it was on a grander scale, a love for life, not an individual. When it became smaller, more personal, it became selfish, and that so often led to possession, the desire to protect an individual over a group, the need to prioritize one life over another when the Jedi believed all life was sacred. Jealousy, fear, anger, hate, all these things and more paved the path of the Jedi that allowed love to consume them.
Fortunately, this was not a struggle that Obi-Wan shared with his Master. Quiet, dedicated Obi-Wan was, in many ways, a better Jedi than he was, a fact that Qui-Gon readily admitted. Obi-Wan had friends, but he did not get attached, his every emotion, even when alone with his Master, was carefully guarded and measured, swiftly analyzed by his sharp mind and dealt with appropriately. Obi-Wan felt, yes, deeply so, but his emotions did not effect him. The quiet boy would not allow it. And that made him ideal for this mission, one which would put him in close contact with a single person for quite a long time, and while Qui-Gon in his youth would struggle with the emotions that rose from prolonged contact, guarded Obi-Wan always held the mission first and foremost at the sacrifice of himself. His charge would be safe.
"Master." Qui-Gon snapped out of his meditations and looked at his Padawan, the boy's hands clenched tightly around the ship's controls as he sliced them through the sky high above the barren waste below on the way to their designated coordinates. "There are incoming ships on scanners, Master," Obi-Wan said nervously. "What if-"
"I'm opening a channel to them now, sir," the com officer said, and the captain laid her hand on the back of the pilot's chair, Obi-Wan looking up at her with wide, expectant eyes that seemed to ask for directions.
"My seat, Master Jedi," she said softly. "The Republic has no official authority here, and though we fly under diplomatic colors, these are a people at war. I need the helm in case things get messy." For just a moment, Qui-Gon felt a flash of defiance in his student, a rare glimpse of confidence almost to the point of arrogance. He had the Force, Obi-Wan thought. He flew with its guiding hand upon his shoulder, and years of experience was no match against the eternity that was the Force. Though he was younger, he was a better pilot.
And then it was gone, released into the Force and let go like so many other emotions, just as he had been trained to do, just as he instinctively knew to do. Qui-Gon could feel the boy flush with embarrassment and guilt, ashamed of himself for even entertaining such thoughts, especially when the mission was at stake. With a light pink stain on his cheeks, the teenager rose from his seat and smiled at the captain, bowing to her as she took her place.
"Thank you for allowing me to fly your ship," he said softly, his eyes averted. "It was..." He paused, considering what it was he felt, sifting through his emotions before settling on one that suited him. "It was a great honor." Qui-Gon smirked. Deferential. Respectful. Removed. So like his student. The captain only smiled slightly in response, her hands on the controls as she observed the ships on the scanner as they slowly became visible through the viewport.
"Incoming ships," the captain said on the com when the com officer indicated that they were patched through," this is Republic Consular cruiser Radiant V, carrying diplomats to be delivered to Sundari. Please identify." There was silence on the other end, only the occasional burst of static to indicate that they were even connected at all. A moment later, the ships turned and flew away, only to execute a flip in the distance, and the ship's alarms began blaring in warning when the unidentified ships locked their weapon systems on to them and approached with an attack vector.
"Master, they're attacking us!" Obi-Wan said tensely, his hands tightly gripping the back of one of the passenger seats as the starfighters began opening fire, the ship rocking as red bolts of plasma struck the ship, its shields protecting them from damage, but it wasn't something they could withstand too much of. This was a diplomatic vessel, not a fighter.
"I'll admit, this isn't the welcome party I was expecting..." Qui-Gon muttered, bracing himself as the ship rocked again, and the starfighters screeched past the Radiant V, only to loop around and quickly head back toward them.
"Really? This is exactly the sort of welcome party I was expecting," Obi-Wan said dryly, his voice tense with worry. "We don't have any business here, why shouldn't they be shooting at us?"
"Very good, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon softly drawled, a wry smirk on his face despite the danger they were in. "You are understanding even those that are trying to kill you. That understanding will take you far in the ranks of the Jedi."
"Master, this isn't the time or place for a lesson!" he gasped as the ship pitched sideways, the two Jedi clinging to the seats as the pilot began taking evasive maneuvers.
"Unidentified ships, cease hostilities!" the com officer said into the open channel, taking over as the spokesperson as the pilot focused on swinging the ship out of harm's way, though the cruiser continued to shake and rock with impact, the central consoles flashing with warning as shield integrity fell to fifty percent, thirty percent, twenty percent. "This is a diplomatic vessel, we are unarmed. Repeat, we are unarmed!"
"Nayc ga'amur aru'e cuyir a pel lenedat," the com finally crackled in response. "Par Kyr'tsad!" The static cut as the com went silent, and the ships swooped in for another run, the pilot spinning the much larger ship out of the way, though the cruiser was too large, too unwieldy to avoid the shots fired. They were a large target, and the starfighters could hit them even if their aim was bad.
"Did you get any of that, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked swiftly, and Kenobi quickly shook his head, his hands rapidly and repeatedly running the length of his braid through his hands.
"No, but I know it isn't good!"
"Divert all non-essential power to the shields!" the pilot said, swiftly running her hands over the console, and with the low groan of electronics powering down, the lights in the cabin flickered off, the sun reflecting off the ashen surface of the irradiated planet their only source of light. Shield integrity climbed back up to fifty percent, and Obi-Wan thought that maybe, maybe, if they were very lucky, if the Force was with them, it would be enough to bring them to their destination. It wasn't far. From here, he could see a dark speck against the pale dust of the earth, a spherical bio-dome of what he knew had to be their destination. Sundari. It was nothing like he expected, but then, Obi-Wan expected Mandalore to be a planet, not a lifeless rock.
Shields fell to thirty percent just as the dark, tinted bio-dome came into clear view, the two ships still flying around them and furiously bombarding the helpless ship with plasma and torpedoes, the ship rocking violently as they were repeatedly hit. As they drew closer to Sundari, Obi-Wan felt his stomach sink with dread as starfighters filled the skies around the dome, swarming like insects defending a hive, and a squadron of eight fighters broke off from the group, flying at full speed toward the cruiser in attack formation. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as green plasma from the new ships streaked through the sky between them, and try as he might, he couldn't push aside his fear, couldn't find within him the calm he knew his Master felt, and was left uncomforted by Qui-Gon's large, strong hand upon his shoulder.
"There is no death, there is the Force..."
Explosions and shockwaves rocked the ship, the lights on the console flickering from the blast, the shields dropping to below twenty percent and the harsh metallic sound of something striking the ship filled the cockpit, black flames and smoke filling the viewport for just a moment before alarms began blaring. The ships had locked on to them. The com suddenly burst with static, and the com officer quickly tuned to the open frequency, and for a moment, the voice on the other end was garbled and lost in a high whine and static before the channel cleared up.
"Tatugir, dinuir gar gai, me'sen," the voice said, strong and commanding. "Repeat, identify, cruiser," the voice said again in heavily accented Basic, and the com officer quickly fumbled with the controls.
"Radiant V, Republic diplomatic cruiser. Cease fire, we are unarmed!"
There was silence for a moment before the com crackled again and the voice said, "Hostilities ceased, Radiant V. The insurgents firing upon you have been destroyed. Are the Jedi aboard?"
The com officer muted the com as the pilot slowed the wounded ship, conserving what power she could in the event that they had to make a run for it. "Confirm those kills, captain," the com officer shouted behind him, and the captain tapped a few commands into the scanner, the device flickering as the system attempted to recover from the last attack.
"Kills confirmed," the captain said, and the occupants of the cockpit breathed a collective sigh of relief as the com officer un-muted the com.
"The Jedi are aboard, starship." Again, a moment of silence.
"We have been waiting for you, Radiant V. We'll escort you to Sundari."
Obi-Wan dropped into the passenger seat and ran his hands over his face, focusing on his breathing and tuning out the excited chattering of the crew, and slowly, the people fell away, leaving him alone with nothing but the humming of the ship and the comforting feel of the Force. He could feel the jerking of the limping ship slowly even out as the straining engines relaxed, gliding in toward Sundari and surrounded by an escort team. He could feel the pounding of his heart slow to a slow, strong beat as he meditated, his reflexive chant of the Code soothing his frazzled nerves, and he wondered if he might have avoided all this anxiety if he had instead reached for the Force instead of focusing on his own concern. He still had so much to learn.
And yet, despite his slowing heart, his even breathing, the peace that settled over him, there was a soft, quiet nagging at the back of his mind, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel like this ordeal was only the least of what was to come.
The Radiant V entered the protected bio-dome of Sundari, Mandalore's mighty capital city, and was met with a war zone, the entire city torn by explosions, once mighty buildings reduced to little more than rubble, and every structure, every street seemed to be covered in dark carbon scoring from blasters. The streets were filled with soldiers, all of them armed to the teeth, and Obi-Wan felt instantly on edge as he looked out the viewport at the Mandalorian warriors that patrolled the city, both on the ground and in the air. These were the soldiers that had once brought the galaxy to its knees, a legion of people in the distinctive armor of their violent past, a thing that only foretold an equally violent future. With any luck, they would change that.
Sundari Palace stood tall in the distance, magnificent among the rubble of the city, a glimpse of what the city had been before months of violent, bloody war had taken its toll. Obi-Wan wondered how quickly the capital had been reduced into a collection of war bunkers and strongholds from what it had used to be, and the graceful elegance of the palace sitting over the central plaza seemed to suggest that the city had once been remarkable. His eyes roved over the grand entrance of the palace as they drew near, a high balcony overlooking the plaza below which now served as a military command center that sat at the base of the steps leading into the palace The ship was directed to set down on the small landing pad they had cobbled together in the square. The palace's own hangar, they were told, had been bombed earlier that week, and was still inaccessible, a fact stated so casually that Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder how many horrors a person had to witness before even the most awful violence became commonplace.
When they disembarked from the Radiant V, Obi-Wan stood close to his Master as a military commander debriefed him, his hands folded into the sleeves of his rough-spun brown cloak, his hood pulled over his head, and his interest elsewhere. The command center was bustling with activity as soldiers in blue and white Mandalorian armor came and went, rushing into camp from the streets, returned from patrols, or taking off at the edge of the platform on the jetpacks affixed to their backs. It wasn't a comfortable feel, all this tension, the harsh commands of a people that couldn't afford to be soft or kind, the acrid smell of smoke and fire in the air, the distant sound of blasters discharging and screams and sirens that echoed through streets empty of the civilians and commerce that made a city.
Though the city was teeming with life, this was a dead world, a city of corpses and killers, a lifeless, hollow thing made all the more difficult to bear by the feeling of hopelessness within the people, and the anger that sparked within them. As his eyes wandered, as he reached out with the Force to get a sense of the people that shared in the cause the Council had sent him to fight for, Obi-Wan's gaze was pulled back to the palace, tall and magnificent at the top of the long, wide stairs to its entrance, and up further still to the balcony, where he envisioned the Mandalorian leader would address his people from in a more peaceful time. Below the balcony was carved a mural, an ancient, stylized thing depicting the Mandalorian warriors of old, swords in hand and raised as they executed their enemy, their defeated opponents laying beheaded at the feet of their leader, the Mand'alor, the dead clutching blades of light that...
Obi-Wan squinted and looked closer, and sighed in exasperation. Yes. They were Jedi in the mural. Upon their palace, the seat of their government, the Mandalorians etched massive, elaborate art depicting the proud slaughter of Jedi.
Perfect.
He couldn't help but wonder why they were helping these people. Or why these people had even asked the Jedi for help to begin with.
"Obi-Wan." The Padawan swiftly looked up as his name was called and saw the stern look on his Master's face and could feel his cheeks burning. As always, Qui-Gon sensed his less guarded thoughts as they passed through his mind, and Obi-Wan looked at the ground to avoid his gaze. He felt no disappointment or displeasure through their connection, but to him, that knowing look felt like judgement.
"Forgive me, Master..." he said reflexively, and Qui-Gon laughed softly and laid a hand on his back, gently leading him away from the plaza to begin their long climb up the stairs to Sundari Palace, a compliment of heavily armed Mandalorian guards flanking them, both to lead them to stand before their Duchess, and to guard them against violent attacks that could happen at any moment.
"There's nothing to forgive, Padawan," the Master said, his voice low to keep the conversation between themselves. "You are still growing and learning. This is all a learning experience. If you were already perfect, you'd have no need of me."
"I doubt that will ever happen, Master," Obi-Wan responded quietly, a slight smile on his face as he allowed himself to be eased by his Master's presence. Qui-Gon flashed the boy his own small smile in return as he felt the boy simultaneously open himself up to the Jedi's presence and hide away his own emotions deep within him, the calm of peace settling over him as the boy released his concerns into the Force.
"Just remember, Obi-Wan. Mandalore's history is bloody and violent, they take pride in the fact that their warriors are among the few in the galaxy that can reliably and systematically kill Jedi. And still they reached to us for help. They're trying to change. That's reason enough for us to be here."
Obi-Wan took a deep breath and looked up at the Jedi and smiled, warm and genuine, his blue eyes alight with compassion and understanding, and it faded the moment they stepped past the threshold of Sundari Palace, replaced instead with the expressionless mask he hid behind so well, a way to keep the boy distant and unattached, just as the Code demanded of him.
The beauty of the halls of Sundari Palace stood in stark contrast to the city outside, though even here, the elegance of the white marble rooms were tarnished with the dark marks of carbon scoring and shattered glass from what used to be windows, now covered up with thick durasteel plating bolted into the stone. The only light provided was from the large, lit braziers that lined the hallway, the flames casting flickering, ominous shadows across the room, dancing almost as if they were alive, a constant reminder that even in the palace fortress, their enemies laid in wait. As Obi-Wan looked around, silently following his Master and their guard, he could imagine what this place would be like in better times, when peace once again came to Mandalore, and it was breathtaking.
White halls lined with the royal blue rugs and tapestries of Mandalore's reigning house, the sun filtering in from long, elegant, open windows that allowed the gentle breeze to carry with it the sounds of a bustling, thriving city and the sweet smell of Mandalorian flora. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt peace and warmth rush through him, and when he opened his eyes, he could see it, not just in his mind's eye, but right before him, vibrant and real and alight with life and peace and prosperity, a thing unlike anything Mandalore had ever known before. It was...beautiful. Stunning, and he could feel his heart beat faster with the excitement of it. This was what he would help bring to pass, a war torn, ravaged world uplifted and restored, allowed to finally thrive after years of blood and war and death.
And then it was gone, the beauty before him fading like mist in the wind, and he found himself looking again at the dark, silent halls, the air smelling of smoke and flames and death, the Force a grave and heavy weight upon him. He sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he breathed deeply, the Code on his lips to being ease to his troubled mind. A vision, nothing more, of things that once were, or things that would be, he was uncertain, but it would be up to the Force if such a thing were to come to pass. He sincerely hoped it would. Nothing good could be gained from a continuation of all this destruction.
Large, ornate doors before them were pushed open by a guard after a quick command by their escort, and the Jedi found themselves in a long room untouched by the destruction that marred the surface of everything else in this city. Save for what should have been long walls of open windows, now bolted shut, the room carried with it the weight of the office it represented, a tribute to the glory of the reigning Mandalorian, in the past, a warlord, strong and mighty, uncontested in his worthiness to rule the warrior race, and now...now...
At the end of the hall stood Mandalore's throne, the seat of power throughout the entire sector, and built to represent such. Built of the dark, slate gray of the iron unique to Mandalore's earth and backed with glowing stones of reds and yellows, the throne was meant to be beautiful, intimidating, worthy of the leader that sat upon it, strong like any Mandalorian should be. The Jedi slowly made their way toward it, calm and respectful, the Padawan keeping his eyes lowered the entire time. Obi-Wan wasn't certain what the custom was for meeting the Mandalorian leader, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend the Duchess before their mission even truly began, especially when getting here had been so perilous. It was dangerous enough here as it was, and it was little secret that it wasn't the Duchess that had asked for the Jedi, but her closest supporters and advisers. She had argued against it, though in the end, she submitted to the will of her people. It wasn't a great start.
When the had stopped, both Jedi bowed, deep and respectful, Obi-Wan's eyes fixed on the foot of the stairs leading up to the throne, and curiosity got the better of him. Raising his eyes as he stood to his full height,, he looked up at the throne at the Duchess he was tasked with guarding, and for a moment, he thought he was looking in the wrong place, that the Duchess had sent another in her stead to deal with the Jedi she wanted no part in. It wasn't until the guards' respectful, almost reverent briefing of the incident in the skies above Sundari that Obi-Wan realized that the woman seated in the throne was, if fact, the Duchess Satine Kryze, the sole survivor of Mandalore's ruling house.
She was young, far younger than anyone possessing the title of Duchess had a right to be, far too young for the weight of a sector at war. She sat in the throne that seemed far, far too big for her small, thin frame, and her delicate, long fingered hands tightly gripped the wide arms of the throne so tightly that Obi-Wan thought that the impossibly strong metal might cave under the pressure. He had expected an older woman a warrior like all the rest with the bearing of a diplomat that sought peace for her violent people so that they may move forward in accordance with the New Mandalorians she led, someone with experience and training, someone with poise and grace that came with age. But Satine couldn't have been older than him, sixteen and all long legs and thin arms and gaunt, teenage awkwardness, her sharp, angular face framed with pale blond hair, her eyes the same bright, clear blue that the kyber crystal that powered his lightsaber possessed. Her body was already well into the development of adulthood, but she had a long ways to go until she was a woman.
But the thing that stood out most about the Duchess Satine was what lay just beneath her surface, a fierce passion that blazed within her, a thing she was clearly struggling and failing to contain. There was anger in her, deep and consuming, frustration and pride, and a stubbornness that allowed it to burn blindingly bright, even though there was little left within her to burn. But just beyond the brightness of the sun that was Satine Kryze was the field of her soul, already blackened with embers and ash from an inferno that already swept through her. There was grief. Hopelessness. Desperation. She was...lost. Obi-Wan had to look away. It was all darkness and light, all flames and shadow, all emotion and passion barely hid behind a thin veneer of what was meant to be nobility and strength, but came across as arrogance and coldness. All things that were forbidden to the Jedi. All things he had been trained his whole life not to feel. It was...confusing and overwhelming, and Obi-Wan felt himself retreat deeper into himself to protect himself from the infectious blaze.
There is no emotion...
"They tell me your trip to Sundari was a difficult one, Master Jedi," Satine said in a voice that was small, uncertain, and wavering with emotion that Obi-Wan could not place. "For that, I am sorry."
"It is of little consequence, Duchess," Qui-Gon said softly, a gentle smile on his face. "What matters is that we are here safely. I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said, indicating toward his student. Kenobi bowed his head, but said nothing. "The Jedi Council sent us on behalf of the Galactic Republic to protect you and assist your planet in its push for peace." A bitter smile crossed the Duchess' lips, and the Jedi could feel her thin veneer of civility beginning to rapidly crack.
"Yes, my advisers have exalted the prowess of the Jedi. Keepers of the peace and peerless warriors." She looked accusingly at the pair, and though Obi-Wan never rose his eyes to meet hers, he could feel the sharpness of her stare. "Tell me, which one is it?"
"Can it not be both?" Qui-Gon asked patiently. "It is difficult to maintain one without the other."
"I disagree," Satine almost spat, her anger quickly rising, and Qui-Gon said nothing, simply looked at her and waited. "I know what you Jedi do," she said, quieter than before as she struggled to contain her anger, shooting a vicious glare at her advisors at the side of the throne, and they had the good sense to look chastised, though unrepentant. "You are not peacekeepers if you find peace at the end of a weapon." She scoffed. "There's even an expression for it. Lightsaber diplomacy." She crossed her arms over her chest. "We are at war, Master Jedi, and you were not sent here as diplomats, not when the Republic and your Order have no sway or jurisdiction here on Mandalore. Our negotiations have failed, which means you are here as warriors."
"Duchess, we are here-"
"Don't insult me, I know why you're here," she said harshly. "I don't need even more people to fight and die for me, Jedi, I have enough of that from my own people." She glared at her advisers once again. "And for reasons I have yet to understand, my trusted advisers thought it wise to bring in outside help from Jedi to help me maintain my rule."
"Duchess..." one of the men at the side of her throne said softly, taking a few steps closer to the furious girl on the throne. "You know what you mean to our people, we need-" The girl slammed her hands on the arms of the throne and jumped to her feet, her hands balled into fists and shaking with rage she no longer tried to repress.
"My people already believe I am weak!" she shouted, and the man retreated his head bowed in deference. "My father commanded the respect of the clans because he was a warlord, but not even his strength was enough to hold Mandalore together! I tried to make peace, and they think me a coward! An insult!"
"Duchess..."
"Explain to me how bringing in outside help to keep my throne isn't weakness! Tell me how this doesn't look like I have gone crawling to the Galactic Republic for the strength that I lack! Tell me how having Jedi here isn't further proof to my people that I have abandoned Mandalore!" The advisers said nothing. They could say nothing, and their impotence was taken by the Duchess as an admission of their failure in judgement, and in the silence, Satine slowly began to calm, her anger replaced by weariness, and she dropped back into the throne, her youth suddenly staggeringly apparent.
"Duchess Satine," Qui-Gon said softly, stepping forward and climbing the first two steps to draw himself closer to the defeated young ruler of a fractured people. "I hear and understand your concerns, but I am here because of the concerns of your people and their desire for peace. They do not think it is possible without you. I am here to facilitate that, as a peacekeeper, and I will do everything in my power to help you bring peace to Mandalore."
"Duchess..." one of the advisers said, emboldened by the Jedi and stepping forward. "Your brother-"
"My brother is dead, Prime Minister!" the girl hissed, her voice cracking with emotion far deeper than her apparent anger. "I thank you for the reminder." Her intense glare focused on the man, he meekly shrank back. "You wanted the Jedi here, and you got your wish. I am talking with the Jedi, not you, and you will remain silent." The man bowed his head and said nothing. "My father didn't start this war, but neither did he shy away from it," Satine said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "It was a war that he should have ended, and failing that, the task was to fall to my brother." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Obi-Wan looked up at the girl, and though the light was low, he thought he could see silent tears upon her cheeks. "But my brother died with my father and mother, and..."
She stopped suddenly, her breath hitching like something within her was suddenly shot with terrible pain, but she quickly hid it. "I am the last of House Kryze," she said, her voice weaker than it had been, filled with sorrow and nervousness and insecurity. "I did not ask for this war. I didn't want this war, but it falls now on me to end it. I just...I-I don't know how..." She stood quickly, her body tense as she swiftly took the stairs at the side of the throne. "Excuse me..." And with that, she disappeared into a door off to the side of the throne room, her personal guard following swiftly behind her.
"Well..." Qui-Gon said softly after the girl was gone, his deep voice echoing softly off the high, stone ceilings. "That went better than expected." Obi-Wan looked up at him with a slightly appalled expression.
"That was better than expected?" The Master shrugged.
"She is Mandalorian, my student. It's somewhat of a wonder we weren't executed on the spot. She is a warrior, that is to be sure..." He gently nudged the boy when his eyes cast back to the ground, to the same spot he had been staring at nearly the entire time they had been in audience with the Duchess. "You alright? You certainly have been quiet."
"I've nothing to say, Master." Qui-Gon said nothing in response, the silence hanging between them heavy and expectant, and Obi-Wan looked up at the Jedi when he realized that Qui-Gon would say nothing until the Padawan found something to say, until he relinquished the thoughts he kept so carefully hidden. "I accept the necessity of this mission, Master," he said slowly. "The Duchess' plight is...moving."
"Moving..." Qui-Gon softly chuckled, and the Padawan looked away again, his mask not slipping for a moment, even as his face flushed softly and he fiddled with his braid. "My compassionate Padawan."
"The Council sent us here for a reason," the boy said softly. "I just find it...uncharacteristic that I not yield to their wisdom. The problem is with me, not them, not this mission."
"You are reluctant to kill again." Qui-Gon said knowingly, and Kenobi slowly nodded. "I will do what I can to shield you from such, my student, but the day will come when you must put your feelings aside for the mission." Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, and Qui-Gon could feel the boy through the Force, his emotions turbulent and disturbed, but as he always managed, he put the emotions away, nodding swiftly and looking up at his Master.
"The mission always comes first, Master. I will...do what's expected of me. I'll preserve life to the best of my ability, but..." He took a deep breath. "The Duchess, peace comes first. Even if I find her...difficult to look at." He frowned, his eyes cast at the ground. "I am...unaccustomed to such strong passions. It is overwhelming."
"Can you handle this mission?" A brief flash of defiance ripped through the Padawan, the powerful surge of a boy that dedicated everything he had to the task at hand, and Qui-Gon smiled to witness the fire within him, hidden as though it may be.
"I can do anything, Master."
"I'm glad you think so." He began walking toward the door the Duchess left through, his Padawan following confused behind him. "Come. Let's check on our charge."
Satine sat with her back against the solid stone half wall that encircled the balcony overlooking the central plaza turned military camp, her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs as she silently cried. Her personal guard strongly discouraged her from even setting foot on the balcony, had even gone so far as to bolt the doors shut, but that hadn't stopped her from finding a way each day since she arrived to slip away from her guard and come here to sit. It was the only time she was ever alone, the only time she didn't need to be strong, the only time when the weight of her responsibilities didn't crush her and she was allowed to grieve.
She remembered a time when Sundari was beautiful, when there wasn't always smoke and blaster fire in the air, when the palace's many doors and windows were left wide open to allow the light and the wind to pass through. She had stood upon this balcony often beside her father and her mother as she looked out on the city that was the dominion of her family, and the sight had always filled her with pride for both her family and he planet. Mandalore was moving forward, as her father had told her often, the thriving Sundari proof that the new, peaceful ways worked. Her father was a respected war hero, a man that had come out on top of all the other clan leaders and used his position to forge them a new path, one that many clans fought against, the tensions against change, against the perceived betrayal of their warrior heritage causing a rift between them.
It wasn't betrayal, it was evolution. Satine saw little to be gained by the violence of their past, and there were other ways they may embrace and exalt their culture. They were a beautiful people, passionate and intense and dedicated, capable of so much that they had so foolishly destroyed with their constant warring. It had to stop, and Satine was determined to stop it. Her father had raised her differently when it was clear that she was no warrior like her older brother or her younger sister. She hadn't the stomach for violence, though she was no less a warrior, though her battlefield had been in politics and debate, her weapons words, so unlike the rest of her family.
Like a good leader, her father had taught her how to use her weapons, had sent her for diplomatic training on Coruscant, had rounded her education in the throne room of Theed, had sent her as an envoy to different clans to learn them, study them, grow familiar with their particular customs and habits so that she may one day better serve them While it was no secret that her father was training her warrior brother to take his place on the throne, he had always told Satine that she was a new type of leader, a warrior for peace and prosperity, one that would help forge the new way.
And it was all for nothing. Now, she sat on the balcony, unable to look out over the city, even if she wanted to for fear of assassination, though she didn't want to, since the sight of her city pained her. It was here, on this very balcony, where her mother, her father, her brother were executed by the Death Watch insurgents that managed to capture them, and though the balcony had since been cleaned, she could still see their blood upon the ground, could feel nausea and revulsion rise up inside her, and yet, she could not bring herself to leave. Nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing she had learned had taught her how to even begin to talk to a people that wanted her dead, no matter the cost. She couldn't flee. She wouldn't flee, not when her people were suffering, not when the entire system was torn to pieces by war, not when families were divided, drawn to different sides of the conflict, not when her own sister-
She whimpered and leaned her forehead against her knees. She couldn't think about Bo-Katan, not now. Not when the younger girl wanted her dead, actually dead. Her own sister, throwing in with those Death Watch savages. Violence only begat more violence, especially with the Mandalorian pride and culture for revenge. But it had to stop somewhere. Mandalorians were proud and stubborn, and they would all be killed, all of them, if someone didn't have the good sense to bring everyone to the table and talk, and Satine vowed to be that person. She had to be. She was their Duchess, and she had to fight for her people in the way she knew was best.
"Duchess?"
The girl squeaked in alarm, her body tensing as she jumped to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at the Jedi Master before her, his...assistant quickly moving behind her a fair distance away, his sharp eyes taking in the city, the buildings, the rubble, vigilant for any attack that may occur. "W-what are you doing here?" she muttered, wiping her arm across her eyes to hide that she had been crying, though she knew she didn't do it well. Her pale skin would stay reddened for hours after she was done.
"You seemed distressed, Duchess," Qui-Gon said softly. "We thought-"
"I am not distressed!" she said firmly, her eyes furiously gazing at the Jedi's calm, kind face, and her anger quickly left her. She felt...warm, the Jedi kind and understanding, like he could be trusted with anything, and she immediately felt foolish for the strength of her reflexive action.
"My mistake," he said, bowing slightly, but that gentle, knowing smile never left his lips, his deep blue eyes filled with understanding, and while no words on the subject were spoken between the two, Satine felt that he just...knew. "I thought it a wise decision to meet so that we may discuss your protection detail," he said. "We should like to act according to your wishes. If you will still have us, of course."
"...have you been briefed on the situation?" Satine asked softly, the lack of objection to their presence a clear indication that the Duchess had accepted their aid, not to say anything of the rush of gratitude that Qui-Gon felt from within her. She was proud, yes, terribly so, but she could be made to see reason, and Qui-Gon could work what that.
"I have an understanding of the current conflict, yes," the Jedi said swiftly. "We were also provided a dossier about you, though it was little more than a situation report. I'm afraid that our records on the affairs of Mandalore are...lacking," he said, smiling warmly at her.
"One day, my people will be a part of the galactic community," she said in a whisper, almost as if she didn't believe it herself.
"I know they will," the Jedi said quickly, reassuringly. "Perhaps our work together with you will help pave the way for an alliance between Mandalore and the Republic." The girl said nothing, and Qui-Gon quickly cleared his throat. "So no, Duchess, our briefing shall have to come from you. Our knowledge was so limited I'm ready to discount it outright." He laughed softly. "We didn't even know your age. Obi-Wan was quite surprised, weren't you, Obi-Wan?" Satine looked over at the boy, almost forgetting that he had been there, the younger man looking to the older Jedi for a moment before he turned back to his watch over the city, his face devoid of all emotion, all reaction.
"As you say, Master," the boy said softly, as though he didn't want to answer and didn't want to be heard. He was...aloof. Distant, so unlike the other Jedi, and the Duchess couldn't help but wonder why he was here if he didn't want to be.
"...I'm being hunted," Satine said quietly. "By everyone. The Death Watch, the other clans, bounty hunters and assassins. Every day, it is something new, every day..." She looked pointedly at Qui-Gon, her eyes wide and pleading. "My people all across the sector are dying. Every single day, this conflict claims the lives of thousands of my people, both warriors and civilians. The Death Watch slaughter the peaceful, the other clans work to exterminate each other, and all of them look to kill me." She held her head up, tall and proud, her lip quivering slightly and her thin frame trembling in fear that she kept locked inside her. "I am the Duchess of Mandalore. I may be a contested leader, but I am the leader none the less, and so long as I live, these insurgents will not have Mandalore."
"You must have allies," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully as he stroked his beard, and Satine quickly began to answer before she stopped herself, suddenly uncertain.
"I-I...yes. Yes, I have allies, though one wouldn't think so to look at my city or the frequent attempts on my life."
"Do you know who you can trust?" Satine shook her head. "And leaving for Coruscant is out of the question?" This time, the girl glared at him, offended by the notion.
"I will not leave my people while they are fighting and dying, Master Jedi," she almost snapped. "I cannot, I will not abandon them. We may be at war, they may stand against me, but they are still my people. All of them."
"A noble sentiment,"Qui-Gon said, drawing up to his full height. A determined, focused look on his face. "I believe I have a course of action. Are you object to leaving Mandalore?" The girl's face flushed red with impatience.
"I told you, I-"
"Not the sector, the planet," Qui-Gon quickly clarified, and the Duchess stumbled on her own tongue.
"I-I...n-no, I suppose not...Mandalore is not the only planet I rule over." She paused to look at him. "But you promise we won't leave the sector?"
"I swear to you, Duchess." She looked at him for a moment before she gently nodded, and with a smile, the Jedi laid his hand on her shoulder. "I will protect you. You have my word, we will bring peace to your little piece of the galaxy. I need to have a word to the head of your guard. I believe it unwise to stay in Sundari while all your enemies know exactly where to find you. It will make your defense difficult. Obi-Wan." The other Jedi drew up taller, and Satine was once again reminded of his presence. "Take the Duchess to the Radiant V and let her have a look around. I'm reluctant to use a Mandalorian ship, given the current situation. We at least have a chance of not being shot on sight in the Radiant V."
The Jedi said nothing in response to Qui-Gon, only bowed in acknowledgment, and with that, Qui-Gon walked back into the palace, leaving the two teens alone on the balcony.
Satine looked the Jedi over carefully, the first time she had really seen him, what with how quiet he seemed to be, how easily he blended in with the scenery, almost as though he wanted to disappear. Something about him was...infuriating, an immediate reaction to his aloof, disinterested mannerisms. The other Jedi was nothing like this. She frowned in the silence, unhappy with her gut reaction towards one of the men that would be protecting her, but she couldn't help it. Perhaps it was his age, far, far too young to be protecting anybody, let alone fighting and killing on her behalf. Perhaps it was his attitude, his manner completely devoid of the passion she thrived on, lacking any emotion at all on his handsome face when the situation they were in was one that invoked emotion from everyone. Nobody, nobody felt nothing in the face of war and death and horror. Perhaps this was simply the Jedi Way, and it was the other that was the odd one out. If that was so, it was no wonder her ancestors clashed so violently with the Jedi. They were diametric opposites.
When the silence had gone on long enough, Satine decided to be the one to bridge the gap, as she always was, the first step to diplomacy and understanding as simple as being the first one to reach out a hand. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the Jedi swept past her and walked into the palace, indicating with his hand, not his words for her to follow, and it rankled her. She was not some commoner, some pet to be summoned, but she followed anyway.
"What should I call you?" she asked him tersely, wincing as she said it and wishing it hadn't sounded so much like a demand. But he was silent in any case, the robes that fell off his shoulders shifting as the muscles underneath tensed, almost as though he was startled that she had bothered to speak to him at all. It was...intriguing. Infuriating, yes, but also intriguing.
"Obi-Wan," he said softly, almost too softly for her to hear him, and when she looked at him, moving closer to hear better, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his face as impassive as ever. He didn't seem bothered or anything really. He just...was. "That's my name."
"Then you may call me Satine." He looked at her again out of the corner of his eye.
"...I find that inappropriate, Duchess." Satine frowned as her irritation grew. It was the most she had heard him speak since he had arrived, and only now did she notice the soft Core World accent upon his words, which she couldn't have noticed earlier since he had barely spoken. She was beginning to wonder if he was even capable of stringing more than five words together. She thought for a moment that perhaps he was silent because he just wasn't very smart, but one look in those cold, distant blue eyes saw them brimming with intelligence.
"Well, you can call me what you wish, Jedi," she snapped, unable to hold her tongue, and she usually would have felt guilty for her lack of tact, but the boy's face registered no emotion anyway. It was like talking to a droid. Or a wall.
"I don't understand why you are here," she asked, her head held tall and her bearing as regal as she could make it as they strode down the throne room toward the doors that would lead them out in the smokey air. "I only need one Jedi protector, and the other seems more than willing to do the job he was assigned. You, on the other hand..." She trailed off, leaving the sentence uncompleted. She didn't need to say it for the meaning to be clear. Still, the Jedi remained aloof, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought he didn't hear her. Slowly, he reached up and tugged at the braid that hung behind his right ear, and she wondered why he would cut his blond hair short, only to allow one piece to grow.
"Jedi work in pairs, Duchess," he said, his tone even and unaffected, and said nothing else. She knew he wouldn't. He had reached his five word limit.
"But why you?" she demanded as they stepped out into the open air and slowly began making their way down the stairs toward the Radiant V, the cruiser surrounded by soldiers and technicians as they repaired the damage caused by their rocky flight into Sundari. "You don't want to be here. How does the Jedi Council select which Jedi to send on missions? Is it a lottery? Do you volunteer? Or do they choose who is simply best for the job, regardless of their opinions on the mission." A hard, humorless smile came to her face. "I don't suppose it's that one. You're too young to be the best at anything." It was a cruel thing to say, she knew, but she wanted to get a rise out of him. Something, anything at all. If this was to be one of her protectors, her companions, she needed to trust him implicitly, and she just couldn't trust someone with no passion, no fire, no humanity. But still, he remained blank, unfeeling, and for reasons she couldn't understand, she felt her heart sink.
"Listen, Obi-Wan..." she started, feeling immediately guilty for trying so harshly to get a reaction from him. She should have known better, she did know better. One didn't win allies with cruelty, and one would never expose their heart without kindness. She certainly wouldn't. "That was beneath me, I-"
"I am his student, Duchess," the boy softly interrupted, and she looked at him as they walked, her eyes focused straight ahead. Of course he was a student. She should have been a student still.
"I...understand," she said, slow and measured, smiling softly at him in hopes of breaking the ice, though as expected, it yielded no results. "I'm sorry I have been rude, I-" His hand swiftly shot out and grabbed her wrist, so tight it was almost crushing, and he swiftly pulled her back, her arm jarring uncomfortably as she turned to face him and lecture him on not only interrupting her very sincere apology, but on the proper way to handle a real lady, but stopped immediately when she saw it. His face was as blank and expressionless as before, but his eyes were intense, the rich, vibrant blue seeming almost to glow, his gaze penetrating as if he could see through everything, right into her heart and soul, and she could feel her pulse quicken, her pale skin flush under the focused stare. But he wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her.
He was looking at the Radiant V.
Heedless of her, Obi-Wan quickly pulled her arm and threw her to the ground, his body pressed close against her as he covered her, and not a second later, Satine was blinded by a flash of light, followed closely by a deafening roar that ripped through the air, and she felt the Jedi tense and twitch above her as a powerful, blazing wind brought debris and rocks and shrapnel with it. When it was over, when her ears stopped ringing, when her blinded sight returned, Satine found herself hauled up to her feet, and she saw chaos, soldiers rushing to help their comrades bleeding and dying upon the ground, screams carrying through the burning air, limbs and sections of bodies unattached to the whole scattered around the plaza. Where the Radiant V once stood, there was now only flames and a twisted, burning wreckage. The ship had exploded, and had she kept walking, had Obi-Wan not stopped her, she would have been caught in the blast radius.
She watched in a state of shock as the Jedi swiftly snatched a metallic cylinder off his belt and with a snapping hiss, it was activated, a long, blue blade of glowing plasm extending from the grip, the young Jedi holding it in a trembling two handed grip by his shoulder. A lightsaber. She could focus on almost nothing else, the horrors around her too much for her to look at. She had never seen a Jedi weapon before. She had never seen a Jedi before, but she was beginning to understand why the Republic cherished them so dearly. Somehow, Obi-Wan had sensed the attack. But...how?
The soldiers stopped running and helping their wounded when from the lower levels of the city, Mandalorian warriors in the black and blue of Death Watch rose into the sky on jetpacks, their blasters pointed at the soldiers as they opened fire, instantly killing many of the people closest to them. Those that survived the first volley quickly dove behind burning cover and brought their own weapons to bear, firing into the swarm that seemed to endlessly rise from below. This wasn't one of the smaller attacks they had been executing all week. This one was bigger, better planned. An actual invasion of the capital.
Obi-Wan stood before the Duchess, his gaze swiftly sweeping around to make sure he wasn't being flanked, and he quickly began to deflect stray blaster bolts away from her. From the palace, the guard rushed out, their weapons blazing as they took to the air to combat the insurgents, and the battle quickly became chaos as bodies began to fall from the sky as they were killed. As Satine's soldiers rushed past her, forming a defensive, protective line between her and the Death Watch, she heard a second thrum, and out of the corner of her eye saw a flash of green as Qui-Gon rushed past, his own lightsaber in his hands. Without speaking a word to each other, the two Jedi fell in beside the Duchess, their blades moving together in perfect harmony as their lightsabers created a shield through which nobody could pass. It was a perfect defense, and amidst the chaos of war and death, despite her racing heart and her fear, she felt safe.
"Duchess, we need a ship!" Qui-Gon shouted over the sounds of blaster fire, screams, and the rising and falling thrum of the lightsabers. He looked up quickly, his hand extended before him as two Death Watch soldiers flew down at the group, and reaching through the Force, he blasted them away with a wave of energy, sending the two soldiers careening through the air, their jetpacks smoking and sparking and finally exploding when they crashed to the ground.
Satine didn't say a word, she simply nodded quickly, turned and ran, her Jedi protectors falling in beside her and matching her pace exactly, and as they ran toward the palace, the Sundari guard retreated to cover them, keeping the Death Watch at bay and paying for it with their lives as their Duchess escaped.
They tore through the dark of the palace, her leather boots making hardly a sound upon the stone floor, and she was grateful that the past week saw her dressing as if she would have to run at any moment. Blaster fire and screams followed them as the Duchess led them into the ruins of the palaces' hangar, the enormous room exposed to the open air, the result of a savage explosion only a few days before. Still starships lay wrecked and burnt and twisted across the space, but some of the ships were clearly functional. As soon as they began to cross the room, Obi-Wan left her side, running past her and straight across the massive space faster than she had ever seen anyone run, faster than she was sure anyone could run.
She tried to run faster as well, but her legs and lungs were burning, and despite her best efforts, despite her years of being in the peak of physical fitness, the result of being the eldest daughter of a Mandalorian warlord, she was panicked and afraid, her heart beating faster than it ever had, and it was a long way they had run at her full sprint from the central plaza. It was too much, and the attempt to push herself only saw her legs failing her, her breathing becoming faster as she began to hyperventilate, and beside her, the Jedi powered off his lightsaber, and the tall, imposing man scooped her up into his arms, held her close to his broad chest, and took off running at his considerable full speed.
She tightly gripped his robes, coughing uncontrollably as her lungs burned, the effort of the sprint making her throat taste blood, and she watched with tired eyes as they rushed for a sleek, triangular cruiser, the ship's boarding ramp down and the engines already blazing and ready for lift off. The moment Qui-Gon's foot hit the boarding ramp, it began to close, and he rushed within the ship, the Duchess gripped tightly to him as he made a beeline for the cockpit. By the time he got there and sat Satine down in the passenger seat behind the copilot's chair, the ship was already in the air, Obi-Wan at the helm, his fingers quickly flipping switches and pulling levers, his eyes not on his work, but focused out the forward viewport. He tilted the nose up and pulled back hard on the accelerator, the ship lurching forward as the engines engaged their maximum capacity, the sky quickly darkening as they shot toward the atmosphere, the sky filling with oncoming starfighters.
"We're not going to make it," Satine said, shaking her head and trembling as the adrenaline faded from her system. "This ship needs a crew of six, we-"
"That won't be a problem," Qui-Gon quickly interrupted, looking behind him and smiling at the girl reassuringly. "Don't worry, Duchess. You're in good hands. He may tell you otherwise, but Obi-Wan's one of the finest pilots I have ever seen."
"I don't think he'd tell me anything..." she muttered, watching with rapt attention as Obi-Wan's hands quickly pulled a lever beside his knee, and he pulled up the ship's weapon's module, flying with one hand and aiming the ship's cannons with the other, his mouth moving as he said...something, though whatever it was, Satine couldn't hear it.
"...well, you may be right about that," Qui-Gon said, looking his apprentice over and smiling softly at the intensity of the boy's focus. With a deep, calming breath, Obi-Wan targeted the ships in his immediate path and opened fire, spinning the ship out of the way of the resulting explosion as the enemy fighter was hit. He continued his upward climb through the atmosphere, flying by feel, not with the ship's navigation, shooting down any ship that got in his way and skillfully evading most of the fire from the ships that trailed him. The moment he cleared Mandalore's atmosphere, Satine got a glimpse of an enormous warship hanging in space before them, a Jehavey'ir type assault ship painted in the colors of the Death Watch, and without wasting a moment, the young pilot flipped the cruiser one hundred and eighty degrees, facing away from the enemy ship and making the jump to hyperspace before he even righted the vessel.
Entry eight.
I find myself at something of a loss. It feels like I have abandoned my people, and I have, I suppose. Many people died to give me a chance to get to safety, and even more will die now that Death Watch has invaded Sundari. I should have stayed behind. I am no battle commander, nor am I a great warrior, but I am their leader, their Mand'alor. What sort of leader runs from a fight? Father certainly wouldn't have. Father didn't. And now he is dead. I would have been as well if I stayed. My people would be dead, regardless of if I was there or not. I should thank the Jedi for their noble efforts in saving me, but I don't feel there's much to be grateful for at the moment. Its difficult to feel glad I live while so many of my people are slaughtered. This was a loss, and nothing more, and it disgusts me that my life if somehow valued above all of theirs.
I would gladly give my life if it meant that the fighting would stop, but I know it will not. With me gone, they would all just have something new to fight for. It wouldn't just be this senseless killing over the matter of our values, it would be to determine who would rule Mandalore, which, I suppose, they're already fighting over. It would just intensify once I'm dead. There's a possibility that Clan Vizsla would use Bo-Katan to assert their claim to the throne, and knowing her, she would give it to them. She has our father's blood, after all, and she is a Kryze, though she has since relinquished that name. Even if that matter were settled, the fighting would continue. Vizsla will bring war to the galaxy, and Mandalore would be crushed, just as it was before. It seems my people like to forget that we lost the war against the Jedi before, and seeing what my new protectors can do, it's no wonder.
The Jedi are nice enough, though they are nothing what I expected. Master Qui-Gon is kind and understanding, and I feel like I've known him all my life. It's...somewhat unsettling to be in the presence of a man that makes you want to tell your secrets. I can't do that, for the obvious reasons, though the Jedi aren't my people. I don't have to be strong for them they way I need to be strong for Mandalore, though I am reluctant to let my guard down. Do it once, and the next time is easier. Soon enough, I may not be able to remain strong when I must. I can't let that happen, even if I need to. Its for Mandalore, for my people, and my duty comes first. Father taught me that much. Though...it would be nice to have a friend.
And Obi-Wan...
I don't know what to think about him. I don't dislike him, though I am certain that my actions have made it seem as though I do. I just don't know what to do with him. He infuriates me, though I cannot place why. Its something that goes beyond his complete lack of emotions, his inability to speak more than five words at a time, his aloofness, his silence. It's almost as if its intentional, like he thinks he's superior because of his amazing gifts. He feels like he sits far above the rest of us, and he knows it. Its arrogance, I suppose. Or something else. I don't know what, but I want to know. I really, really do. He did save my life today, more than once, even though it seems like he couldn't possibly care any less about anyone around him. No person is an island, but it appears that he thinks so.
He's be insufferably handsome if he just smiled.
It occurs to me I know very little about the Jedi Order. Perhaps that accounts for his inhuman behavior. I will have to ask Qui-Gon to tell me about the Order. We're floating in space between systems right now while the Jedi formulate a plan. Somewhere between Draboon and Jakelia, I believe. I'd ask Obi-Wan, but...I don't think an understanding of the Jedi Order can be reached within the span of five words. Perhaps we just got off on the wrong foot. I have been told I can come off rather strong, that I rub people the wrong way. It must be true, or so many of my people wouldn't be trying to kill me.
I shall have to work on that.