Disclaimer: All rights belong to Disney, George Lucas, and all the men and women that created the Star Wars movies, books, and comics. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made. The cover art image belongs to peanutbutterroastedchestnuts. tumblr .com (remove the spaces)
Rating: T for violence, disturbing imagery, and dark themes
Author's Note: I say Rogue One last night! If you're on the line and you're not sure if you want to see it, I would highly recommend it. It's such a good movie! Even my friend, who doesn't usually like those kind of movies, loved it.
Chapter 26
Core Worlds Region, Coruscant Subsector, Corusca Sector, Unknown System, 39 BBY
"I'm back," I announce to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan as I stride into their shared starship. They turn, surprised, at my voice.
"Where did you go?" Obi-Wan questions, then, realizing he's out of place, shakes his head. "Never mind."
"I was working on my new lightsaber," I answer, purposefully being vague. "A lightsaber is your greatest weapon, you know."
Obi-Wan expresses a slightly sour look that I know comes from having heard Qui-Gon say it a million times. One day his own Padawan will be giving him the same look, though. He better get used to it.
"What did you end up settling on?" Qui-Gon asks. I grin mysteriously.
"You'll have to just wait and see," I tease, leaning in the space between them and glancing at the navigation panel. "Where are we off to this time?"
"Andelm Four," Obi-Wan eagerly answers. "There's been a suspicious amount of Andelm Beetle exports in the past few months. We're supposed to investigate and find out where it's going."
"Andelm Beetles have the substance that helps power blasters, don't they?" I muse as Obi-Wan takes off of Coruscant. "So whoever is importing the beetles must be building blasters. And with blasters come droids..."
"Someone could be building a droid army," Qui-Gon agrees. "We've had peace for two thousand years. Nothing can be allowed to shatter that peace. At least not while the Jedi are around to protect the Republic."
"Do you have any ideas about who would want an army?" I question, though inwardly I have a strong suspicion of my own. This seems exactly like the kind of move my old master would make. I can't tell them that, though. If they're going to find out, it's going to be on their terms and hard work, not from my mouth.
"No one I can think of," Qui-Gon replies. "There are many rival companies in the galaxy, but I can't imagine any one of them would be this desperate. Something just doesn't add up."
"And the Force has gone dark," Obi-Wan finishes, glancing first at his master and then up at me. "The Jedi Council feared you because you knew all along that the dark side was covering their sight and leading them astray. They always knew something was wrong, but they could never figure it out until you waltzed in there and shoved it in front of them. It scared them that you knew so much."
"So that's why they were after me so quickly on Thisspias," I realize, the pieces coming together. "It wasn't just because I was framed for kidnapping. They were letting their emotions lead them, and their emotions were anger and frustration."
Qui-Gon nods slowly. "The Order has fallen from what it once was. I fear it will never be the same. One day it might even cease to exist."
"Or worse," Obi-Wan says solemnly. "It might become something that it is not. But I still believe in it. There is good in it, and it is up to my generation to bring it back to the original standards. I believe it can be done." His eyes shine with promise, and I know he will be one of the last true Jedi. And one of the greatest.
But that will take time. For now, we have some investigating to do.
Outer Rim Territories, Unknown Sector, Unknown System, 39 BBY
It's a good thing Obi-Wan is a good pilot else we might be wreckage floating around in space right now. It all started with the dangerous asteroid belt surrounding the planet. It hadn't shown up on any of the charts, and if it hadn't been for KZ's scanners, we would have hit it faster than the speed of light.
Even so, it takes an expert pilot to pull out of hyperspeed quickly while weaving through big, floating rocks at the same time. KZ won't stop shrieking in high-pitched whistles, and even my hands are white and the skin drawn taut from clenching the edge of the seat so hard. The starship whips and spins and turns sharply, and both Qui-Gon and I are reaching into the Force to try and steady our ship as best as possible.
Some of the smaller ones hits us, rocking the flying vehicle even harder. Obi-Wan's face is red as he spins in his pilot chair, pulling levers and pushing buttons and balancing different dials all while keeping an eye out for what's in front of us. I myself am not an excellent pilot, but I still have a lot of appreciation for his skills.
A huge chunk of asteroid lingers in front of us, and there's no time to pull up or to go around. Instead Obi-Wan cuts the engines and we drop, passing safely under the rock...and continuing down.
"The engine's won't start up again!" he cries, swiveling back to look frantically at us. "I think they're overheating and once I shut them off they'll stay off until they cool."
Great. As if this situation could get any worse. "KZ, do something!" I order, hoping my clever astromech droid has some trick up his sleeve. He wheels over to the control panel and out of one of his outputs shoots a tool, which he inserts into the panel and starts scanning and reading things. We're still freefalling toward the planet, and if we get any closer, we're going to get sucked up in it's atmosphere.
Burning to a crisp isn't my ideal way of dying.
The ship enters the edges of the atmosphere and flames erupt along the outside panels. It won't take long for it to eat its way through the metal. Soon we'll be burning up, too. It doesn't seem right, though, dying this way. I still have years and years and years left. Unless those Force Priestesses on the Force planet were misleading me.
KZ-4 lets out an accomplished shrill and the engines roar back to life. Obi-Wan pulls up and out of the atmosphere, entering back into space. We orbit the planet a few times before making a purposeful dive into the atmosphere. This time we manage to land safely just outside of the capital city.
When our starship sets down I finally release the seat handles, my arms aching with exhaustion from the sustained period of tension. A breath lets out slowly, my stiffness following it out and away. None of us move from our seats for the longest time.
"That was close," I mutter finally, wiping sweat off my face.
"Too close," Qui-Gon agrees. He pats his Padawan's back affectionately. "Good job."
"I hate flying," Obi-Wan responds, and we all share a nervous but relieved laugh.
"On then?" I ask, and we all slowly stand up, pull on our dark robes, and head out into the green and blue planet of Andelm IV.
All different types of species inhabit this diverse planet. From Jawas to Twi'leks to Nightbrothers from Dathomir and many other species, it's not hard to blend in. Everyone is bustling and hustling and going about their business as if this galaxy could not possibly be on the brink of war. But I suppose they have no need to know that. War is a matter of the Republic and of the Senators and Jedi that serve it.
Even so, I wonder if any of them are aware of how their beetle export might be churning calm waters and turning white clouds gray. Would they continue to allow it? That's the biggest problem with people - you never know if they will follow their so-called morals or not. If selling beetles to people who make weapons out of it gets them money or security, chances are they'll continue to do it. People are just ugly like that, no matter what species -
Stop. This isn't me thinking. Those are thoughts Minerva would have, or Rina. Not me. I am a protector and a defender, not a condemner. All beings have their flaws, yes, but we must give everyone a second chance. I'd be a hypocrite if I said anything else.
And isn't that why I'm here? To bring hope and second chances to those who deserve them? It is, and I can't do that unless I banish all those dark thoughts.
Connecting with the Force, I close my eyes and quickly clear my thoughts. When I open my eyes again we're walking through a large city. The ground underneath us isn't paved with permacrete, only with cobblestones, and based on the state of the houses and vehicles, it seems as if we've entered a very unique place. Half of the transports and homes seem to be caught up with technology; TVs and music add noise to the scene, and speeders fly around high in the sky. The other half seems to be caught in the past; beasts from all sorts of other planets trod along, shackled to carts and loads.
It's an odd mix of old and new, wood and metal, beast and machine. Smells good and bad float up around, and the entire place is chaotic. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and I pick our way through, avoiding piles of animal waste and other sorts of trash. KZ-4 is delighted at the sheer amount of droids hanging around, but we keep moving too quickly to give him a chance to exchange tricks or whatever droids discuss when they're together.
"What exactly are we looking for?" I question as I step around a pile of animal waste. You really have to be careful around here, especially with boots as expensive as mine. Besides, who knows what type of diseases might be in those reeking piles?
"There are several Andelm beetle farms around near and within the city," Qui-Gon explains, his eyes scanning the area perceptively. "We can go in, check it out, talk to the owners."
"We just need to find out who is dealing the most with the planet Oon," Obi-Wan adds. "That's the planet importing all the beetles."
"Why are we not there then, instead of here? You'd think we'd go straight to the source of the problem."
"If there really is a droid army on Oon," Qui-Gon answers, "how do you think we'd be met? With pomp and circumstance?"
"They would try to kill us," Obi-Wan agrees. "And maybe there is just a problem with the record books. Or maybe Oon is making a new beverage or delicacy from the beetles."
"So you're saying all you guys know is that the export rates of the beetles from Andelm to Oon has increased dramatically recently. You suspect there's a droid army. You suspect there's something going on. But of actual facts, you have very little." I shake my head in disbelief. "Real smooth operation you have going on here."
"It is not our authority to question the information the Council gives us," Obi-Wan says, but it sounds awfully rehearsed, as if he is reading straight from a rule book. Inwardly, I sigh. He may be my friend, but sometimes he's much too uptight, especially when it comes to the Jedi Order.
Qui-Gon, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. He frowns at his Padawan and shakes his head. "No, she's right. The Council has been...mysterious of late. I suspect it has something to do with the cloud that is increasingly covering the Force."
"I thought you said that disappeared when Minerva died and the Sith retreated back into hiding," Obi-Wan protests quietly, a small and almost imperceptible betrayed look flashing quickly across his face.
Qui-Gon shakes his head, frustrated. "Think, Obi-Wan! I have told you many times to keep your mind clear. Focus on the Force, and you will see it is still murky."
The young apprentice does as his master instructed, but he doesn't seem very happy. He nods when he senses it, but then he continues to push the conversation. "Regardless of what the Council reveals to us or hides, it doesn't affect our mission." His eyes bore a hole into his master, as if trying to convert him to his side.
"It could," Qui-Gon argues. "They should not hide important information from us. What if it were to one day cost us our lives?"
"We didn't join the Order to be safe and secure," Obi-Wan replies, a scowl taking over his face. "We joined it to keep others safe and secure."
"But we didn't join it to throw away our lives due to ignorance, either," the master argues. "We joined to bring peace and justice to the galaxy. And we do that. But not if the Council keeps important things from us that might result in an unnecessary death."
The two continue arguing as we walk, and it's not surprising to me in the least. They are so different - Obi-Wan is strict on following the rules and believes in the Order more than anyone; Qui-Gon believes in following his heart and making his own, independent decisions. The two are like father and son, though, and I know one of the reasons they were assigned to each other were to keep each other in balance. Obi-Wan's obedience keeps Qui-Gon's independence in check, and Qui-Gon's creativity keeps Obi-Wan from growing into tunnel cision. Usually it works in perfect tandem, but, like today, it sometimes also boils over.
I can't imagine how bad the argument had gotten when Qui-Gon had first sent the message to ask for my help those few months ago. It seems so long ago when I had received that transmission. I'd been in a dark place, but things had been so simple. Running around the galaxy and doing whatever I want... and ever since that first meeting on Gorse my life had changed.
Nothing is the same. Nothing will ever be the same.
"Hey," I snap, something catching my eye. The two of them fall silent as they follow my gaze. "I think I'm on to something. Unless you'd like to argue the merits of the Jedi Council for a little longer."
They both look a little ashamed as they follow me into the rusty metal shack with the sign Andelm Beetle Buys across the top.
Inside the walls are lined with troughs full of crawling beetles, only a glass lid keep them from escaping. A Quarren owner sits at a stool behind the main counter, his tentacles twisting as he reads something in his lap.
He looks up as we approach, and he dons a seller's smile. "Welcome to my humble store. Are you interested in buying Andelm Beetles right from, you guessed it, Andelm? They're fresh!"
"Actually, we're here for some information," I interrupt, placing my palms flat on the counter and leaning forward to show my confidence.
"What kind of...information?" he questions, his face showing suspicion.
"Do you sell the beetles in mass?" He nods slowly. "Do you export them off the planet?" This time he just looks at me with a tilted head. I sigh and lean forward even more, almost in his face. "Listen up. I just need to know if you export large shipments to Oon."
He hesitates before nodding, and I lean back across, away from him, not missing the relief in his face.
"Who do you sell to on Oon?" Qui-Gon inquires, not threateningly at all. I'm the scary one, I guess.
"It's a company called Holowan Laboratories," the Quarren answers tightly, as if he doesn't want to give up this information. "They pay me very well."
"What do they want the beetles for?" I butt in. His gaze flickers from Qui-Gon, to me, then back again.
"I don't know," he replies, and I can sense he's telling the truth. "They recently just wanted a lot of beetles. I have the biggest farm here on Andelm, and they pay very well, so I accepted. I know nothing else."
I nod my head sharply and turn to exit, KZ-4 close on my heels. The other two follow a moment later, and when they meet me outside of the beetle shop, they aren't very happy.
"That's it?" Obi-Wan questions, a little harshly. "We're done? We found the seller, now we're just going to leave?"
"Of course not," I scoff. "There's just nothing else for us to learn there. I'm going on to Oon to check things out alone there."
"Alone? This is our mission, Nisha. Not yours." Qui-Gon's voice is sterner than I've ever heard it before. "We'll go together."
"This is bigger than you and Obi-Wan. This could be huge," I remind them, my eyes narrowed. "You could be walking into a death trap, and with your deaths die the truth. Unlike you, I'm expendable, and if I die, then you know something big is going on, and you can gather all your little Jedi friends to help. But I'm going in first."
"That's not how this works," Qui-Gon argues. Before he can say another word, I have the perfect response.
"Since when are you a stickler for the rules?" The statement shuts him up, and I feel him connect to the Force to calm himself down. When he exhales deeply and looks up again, his stance is firm. "We will go to Oon together."
"Fine," I relent, knowing that words aren't going to get me my way. I turn and stalk off towards the ship, flipping my dark hood up. They follow soon after, but hesitantly, as if afraid of my anger. Good. They best be wary of me. I'm more than angry right now.
What don't they understand about me wanting to do something alone? Are they worried I'm going to lie? Betray them? I thought we trusted each other. They just don't understand that I need to check this out alone. If there really is a droid army, then I have to know who it belongs to and why.
A flash of vision hits me, and I recognize a girl. She has dark, curly hair and a regal confidence. It's Padmé Naberrie, the little girl from Naboo. She's fighting some droids in an open hangar along with some men and women I take to be guards. Are those the same droids I might find on Oon?
Even more worrying, though, is how Padmé is connected to Qui-Gon and especially Obi-Wan. Their futures intertwined in many different places in many different ways, and a droid army is only one. If the Jedi find this droid army and discover who's behind it, then won't the future change? Will it be wrong?
I've never encountered this problem before. My visions always come true. Somehow Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon or any of the others just never discover this droid army or who is behind it.
It's then that I realize I am the reason they don't discover it. I receive the visions, therefore it is my responsibility to ensure that they come true accordingly. A resigned sigh escapes my lips; this could get messy.
Destiny and fate is something stressed far too much in this galaxy, especially by the Jedi. They have their prophecies and they follow them blindly like lost dogs. They see only black and white. It will be their downfall one day. But me? I don't tend to believe in that kind of thing. My old master always explained passionately how the Sith philosophy allows for freedom of choice. I liked that a lot, and for years I believed fate and destiny were just badtime stories or romanticized concepts. Now, though, I'm beginning to wonder if some of it is true. What if my destiny is to use my visions to secure the future?
Even if I don't like what I have to do.
Especially if I don't like what I have to do.
In this case, I know I'm not going to like what I have to do. It goes against every grain of my being. It rubs the wrong way against all my promises and my morals and who I am as a person. This is the fate of the galaxy, though, and I can't be selfish enough to throw it all away for the one good thing in my life.
The one good thing in my life. Have I not given that away more than enough times? Is it my fate to lose the one good thing in my life? Xavier was the one good thing in my life at one point; I lost him. Lillea was the one good thing in my life; I lost her. The apartment on Coruscant was the one good thing in my life; I lost it. My power was the one good thing in my life; it became old and normal. Damari was the one good thing in my life for a while; I took him from this world. The list goes on and on, all of my most loved people and things being taken away from me cruelly.
And yet, I can't let the past change my or anyone else's future. So my life is supposed to be hard. Okay. I can live with that. I have been living with it for the past nineteen years.
But how much longer can I live like this?
It's a constant, whispering thought in the back of my mind for quite some time now. I have never given it much thought before, but things are coming to light now. Is my life supposed to be one of sacrifice? Of giving my happiness over to destiny? Or am I allowed to shirk on my duties and live the life I want?
Time is precious, and I would hate to waste any of it doing what I don't want to do. I still feel a sense of debt, though. In my past life I had killed and ruined so many people, and I'll always be trying to make up for it, even if it is impossible.
It's a delicate balance, this line between duty and life. And it's a line I have danced across for my whole life since becoming Minerva.
As soon as the starship touches down on Coruscant, I'm racing out, KZ-4 at my heels. I hear Obi-Wan's objections behind me, but I pay them no heed. I need to get a head start while I still can.
The two Jedi will have to take the time to submit a report before they can head to Oon, but I can already be there and investigating before they even take off again.
Dread fills me when I realize what I might have to do to secure the future, but this is simply another hard choice I must make. It's the good of the galaxy versus the good of myself, and a friendship is a small price to pay. At least that's what I tell myself as I strap into my MagnaGuard Fighter and take off, weaving upwards through the air traffic and out of the planet, setting off hyperspeed as soon as I'm in the clear.
And yet, I get a nagging feeling deep down that I haven't changed a bit despite what I justify my actions with. Deep down, the darkness still eats away at me, and not even the light can reach that far down.