The balooma blooms filled the air with their sweet and subtle fragrance. Their scent was certainly not as aromatic as that of the blartree or mysess blossoms but was nonetheless pleasant. The blooms were scattered about the perimeter of the trickling stream that ran through the garden center and graced the accompanying foliage with their crimson petals as they opened to the morning light. It was a lovely sight to be sure and one the Jedi of Coruscant relished. Coruscant was an entirely cosmopolitan planet, with little to no native plant life left due to the planet wide infrastructure that choked the natural resources into concrete submission. This oasis within the Jedi Temple was almost all that was left of nature's bounty on the galactic capital and was greatly treasured as a retreat for the Jedi to reconnect to the Force and other natural elements.
Beside the clear waters, Master Shaak Ti sat in meditation as per her daily norm; she rose early, before dawn, to enjoy solitude within the garden. It was her routine and, with so much changing around her, she needed to maintain a sense of stability in her life.
The Temple Meditation Gardens were usually a peaceful place where Shaak Ti felt closer and more in tune with the Force. This morning, however, her meditation in the tranquil surroundings did not grant her the inner peace she needed; her thoughts were upon her Padawan. Ever since that fateful day, when she watched Winter Vance fall at the hands of General Grievous and the glimmer of light leave her brilliant green eyes, the Master Jedi was haunted by feelings of guilt. She watched General Grievous run Winter through with her own lightsaber. Winter's last words included a simple plea; she asked for her Master's forgiveness. Shaak Ti could hear Winter's dying voice even now and it chilled her to the bone.
Shaak Ti shut her eyes tighter and inhaled the cool morning air, trying to push back the invasive darkness that shrouded her mind and disturbed her meditation. She allowed her mind to recenter itself. As the Force enveloped her once more in its warm embrace, the Troguta Jedi felt the tender presence of a small and seemingly insignificant creature; a blue butterfly fluttered in her wake. The insect was nothing extraordinary and was much like the other butterflies in the garden. But it showed a particularly persistent interest in the meditative Jedi. Shaak Ti raised a single hand to the insect and allowed it to land on her outstretched finger. It's numerous tiny legs tickled her skin and caused a smile to form on her face.
Although the feeling was faint and fleeting, merely a whisper within her own mind, it was real and tangible. This whole time Shaak Ti had trusted her eyes but the Force now beckoned her to trust her feelings. The reality was simple; Winter Vance was alive.
--
"Winter's alive? You're certain of this," Master Kenobi asked his unnerved colleague.
Shaak Ti folded her slender arms into the confines of her robe and nodded in response to Obi Wan's questioning. She didn't know how or why, but the Force was assuring her that Winter Vance had survived. The feeling was as undeniable as the balooma blooms waking in the dawn of morning.
Obi Wan sighed and walked further down the long temple corridor with Shaak Ti walking beside him. The pair of Jedi Masters were lost in silent contemplation, unsure of their next move. It was apparent to both Jedi that Winter had in fact been abducted by the droid commander, but the purpose was unknown to them. They didn't even know where to begin their search for the Padawan. The situation was indeed troubling to Obi Wan but to Shaak Ti it was devastating.
Shaak Ti had been the one to discover young Winter Vance when she was merely five years old. Winter had been abandoned in the slums of Coruscant and remembered almost nothing about how she came to be there. The trauma of her ordeal may have suppressed the painful memories so far down that she no longer had access to their remembrance. The Troguta Jedi had taken a personal interest in the Zeltron child and, when she came of age, was delighted to take her on as a Padawan learner. In many ways, Winter was like the daughter Shaak Ti would never have. The realization that she had not only failed her beloved pupil but also was powerless to rescue her from the clutches of General Grievous was too much to bear. Shaak Ti took a seat on one of the tufted benches in the hallway and buried her face into her palms.
It was not often that Master Shaak Ti exhibited such emotion but Obi Wan was certainly not surprised. Had he lost his own pupil he would have felt the same; it was a tragedy of immense proportions. The human Jedi took a seat next to her and placed his gentle hand on her shoulder. He didn't scold or criticize her for her frailty and allowed silence to embrace them. The comings and goings of the Temple seemed to slow for the grief-stricken pair. Members of their order drifted past them in a blurred sea of movement. This war had already brought unimaginable loss to the galaxy and to the Jedi Order; how much longer could they endure it?
Some ways down the hall, peeking out from around a corner, was young Caleb Dume. He had overheard the Jedi Masters mention Winter's name and now watched with a sorrowful gaze at their despondency. It had not been long since the incident and Caleb was fighting his own feelings of helplessness. Winter wasn't just a fellow Padawan; she was his friend. He looked up to her and, despite her negative view of herself, had always held her in high esteem. He had hoped they would one day fight together as Jedi Knights in defense of the Republic and help to restore order to the war-torn galaxy. Those hopes were nothing more but dreams for Caleb now and, just like Master Shaak Ti and Master Kenobi, he had to learn to let Winter go.
--
"It's time, Jedi," Durge broke the silence between them.
Winter eyed the bounty hunter suspiciously. She started to rise to her feet when he grabbed her by her forearm and forced her out of the cell and into the hall. This time she didn't struggle. The Gen'Dai ushered her onward, past numerous cell doors that, Winter presumed, each contained a prisoner of some kind. She made a careful study of the structure; it was built well and appeared to be some years old. The walls were dark and made of some kind of concrete or stone. Overhead were industrial piping and light fixtures weaved through the rafters. The technology here seemed dated but functional for the purpose it served. Whether this underground holding facility was built originally to be one of containment or otherwise, it's purpose was certainly obvious to Winter; the people here were meant to disappear. She was sure the prisoners included criminals, perhaps nobles, and others who may have stuck their noses in places they didn't belong. But why would Durge risk their operations by holding a Jedi prisoner? There was far more to this than she had initially thought and the Council needed to be notified, both of it's existence and her's.
At least a month must have passed since General Grievous had taken her from Coruscant, but it seemed like a lifetime to Winter. She was still unsure of the exact purpose for her abduction and the nature of the experimentation she underwent. Thus far all she could derive was that her cybernetic eye allowed her to scan her surroundings and upload the data to her brain and that doing so caused her immense head pain. Back onboard Hondo's ship, Winter was also somehow able to connect with Grievous' personal comm link and, she now ascertained, that must have been due to her previous scan of the droid commander just before their capture. Did she still have access to his comm? Perhaps. But she certainly couldn't communicate with the general now, not with Durge beside her.
Durge, a humanoid male of immense size and stature, clad in armor from head to toe, was a sight worthy being in fear of. The Gen'Dai as a whole were a notorious species. Durge in particular was known through the Galaxy as not only one of the most effective bounty hunters but also the most feared, aside from the likes of Cad Bane. He was cruel, merciless, and unyielding. He had already killed numerous Jedi and countless clone troopers throughout the war so disposing of a mere Padawan would be of little consequence to him. The pay, however, made it all worth while.
"Where are you taking me," Winter asked finally.
Durge was silent.
"Why not just kill me in my cell and be done with it," she raised an eyebrow to him.
"Where's the fun in that," Durge hissed behind his mask.
Winter sighed. "So no profit? This is all just for the sport, huh? Didn't realize killing someone could bring such amusement."
"You should try it sometime. Perhaps then you wouldn't be such easy prey," he taunted her.
Winter felt his biting remark sting her ego; she had yet to take the life of another. In fact, it wasn't something she even considered an option. But she knew that, one day, she may be forced to and that day may be closer at hand than she thought. The Jedi were keepers of the peace first and foremost but, in a galaxy riddled with chaos, her personal morals and values were constantly being shaken. She was already guilty of disobeying her superiors, holding someone hostage, and aiding a Separatist general when she should have turned him over to the Council by now. She was becoming a person she didn't recognize, but in all the wrong she had done, the Force was still with her; it hadn't abandoned her just yet. That, at least, she could trust.
--
Grievous' reptilian eyes strained in the darkness; it was becoming more difficult to see, even with the lightsaber lighting his path. The moisture in the air from the adjacent waterway was irritating his joints and making his movements more laborious, adding to his irritation. It had crossed his mind a time or two to cut his losses and retreat to the surface; the Padawan wasn't his problem nor his responsibility. She was part of the Jedi infestation that corrupted the Galaxy. Why, then, did he continue in his search? Why was he wasting his time and energy, even risking his own life, for her?
She reminded him of someone. Not in physical likeness or battle prowess, but in spirit. Her courage in the face of insurmountable odds mirrored Ronderu in many ways. His deceased mate had been a warrior of the highest caliber and her confidence as deeply rooted as the famed Wroshyr trees of Kashyyk. Together they fought and prevailed over the Yam'rii in the Huk War as a force without equal. The Dreamer and the Dreamnt; yes, that's what they were known as, Grievous recollected. This Padawan was young and still had much to learn but she possessed the inner strength of a warrior and a survivor, strengths that were not easily taught. For that, he couldn't help but respect her and it was because of that respect that he was not going to merely abandon her to death. He couldn't save Ronderu, but maybe, just maybe, he could save Winter?
