Chapter 47: New Perspectives
A/N This chapter is a crossover with Shaak and Maris: a Star Wars Story by Sensey, available here on . Some scenes were adapted, with limited editing, from Sensey's text; others were summarized or created from scratch with Sensey's permission. Further notes at the end of the next chapter.
BBY 13 – 11 months – 8 days
On Nechako
For a moment, the two women simply stared at each other.
At last, Shaak tilted her head at a slight angle, then spoke. "It's good to see you, Knight Varda. It's been a while."
"Where are my manners?" Varda said quickly. "Please, come in. I've been preparing something for supper. Would you like to join me?"
Varda led Shaak Ti through the narrow hallway to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to hide her face again. It wasn't that she had no joy in seeing the Togruta Jedi Master alive after all the horrors of the Jedi Purge. It wasn't that she had no desire to hear how she had survived and what had brought her to Nechako of all places. It was simply that seeing someone who had been a high-ranking member of the Jedi Council and a General of the Grand Army of the Republic brought back matters that the situation with Ry had allowed her to forget. It brought back her own great shame of having killed the two clone soldiers and then deserted. She could only imagine that the incident must have reached Shaak's hearing.
In the kitchen, Varda poked a big wooden spoon around the pot of stew she'd been forcing herself to graze from throughout the day. Tired of Devin's meat-and-grain diet, she had made up a pot of greens and wild chives simmered down and thickened with milk. She turned up the heat on the stove, and the smell of herbs and onions filled the air.
Sniffing the aroma, Shaak complimented her. "Smells nice. I'll have some, thank you."
Varda grabbed a bowl, then gave her guest a generous portion. Not knowing exactly what Togruta eating habits were, she decided to ask first. "Would you prefer sticks or a fork – or neither one?"
"Neither," Shaak grunted. She took the bowl and proceeded to feed herself with her right hand. Varda could occasionally see the razor-sharp Togruta teeth protruding as Shaak devoured the food. "Please excuse me," Shaak said softly. "I was hungrier than I thought. It's really quite good."
As she poked at her own small portion, Varda felt relieved that the meal gained her some time to consider what to do. Back on Hokto, in the solitary days before Eo came, she had sworn that even if the Jedi Council found her, she would not submit to their discipline unless they acknowledged the Order's own failings first. But that seemed mean and petty now. She had committed herself to her duty as a surviving Jedi, and that path now lay through receiving Shaak Ti and making right with this fellow survivor.
Shaak finished her food and set the bowl down on the table. "Thank you," she said again, with a slight bow of her head.
What Shaak knew, what Shaak guessed, what Shaak was reading in her even now, Varda could not be sure. The Togruta master was emanating a rather powerful Force signature, one that reflected a deep well of controlled energy, yet this seemed completely tempered and restrained. Varda sensed in it both the possibility of Shaak's goodwill, but also the probability that the Jedi Master knew most of what Varda might otherwise wish to hide.
With effort, Varda gathered and cleared her throat. "Come, Master Shaak. Let's sit somewhere more comfortable and talk. I will fill you in on where I've been over the past few years."
"I'd like that."
Varda led Shaak to the living room, regretting its shabbiness and the awkward computer sitting in the middle of the coffee table. She gestured for Shaak to take the armchair, which was better cushioned and less frayed than the sofa, where Varda sat stiffly, wondering where to begin.
After a long pause, Shaak spoke. "Varda … I remember learning various things from you when I was a youngling and then a Padawan. Some of these I hold onto to this day. The knowledge of plants and vegetation, for example. Quite useful this has been for me. May I say one thing? I am most gratified to have found you. There are only a handful of us that remain now in the Galaxy."
"Thank you, Master Ti," Varda responded, the tone in her voice betraying more than a little relief, but still a bit rushed. "I'm sure you have questions for me, but if I may, I'd like to fill you in on where I've been … these past years."
Shaak nodded in a subconsciously regal manner, saying nothing.
Varda swallowed hard and decided to begin with the simple part. "I am also very glad to see you alive and well. I learned only recently about what happened to the Jedi Order...and the galaxy more broadly. For the past several years, I was stranded in the Hokto System, without any means of contacting the outside."
Varda paused, looking down at a stain on the carpet as she gathered words for the hard part.
In the silence, Shaak Ti spoke first. She leaned over, hands outstretched. "Varda, please give me your hands."
Perplexed, Varda looked from Shaak's hands to her face. She seemed wholly calm, but there was a pleading look in her eyes. What the Togruta meant by this, she could not imagine, but it did not seem right to refuse.
As Shaak gently took Varda's hands, a sudden surge of warm Force energy coursed through her. Startling at first, Varda almost wanted to push it away, afraid of what Shaak might read in her, but as she resisted that urge she found herself able to relax into its flow. That was when she heard Shaak speak, mind to mind.
I know what happened, Varda, and you are forgiven. It is not my place to judge such actions when we as an organization failed so completely.
Varda squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed her pride, then swallowed her resentment. What I did was wrong, badly wrong. But thank you for coming. I forgive also.
As Shaak released her hands, she smiled a gentle smile, then with her chin gestured to Varda's left hip. "I can see you are not well. Might I have a look?"
Varda was a bit surprised but then remembered that Togruta were often gifted in the healing arts. "Yes, please," she said.
Shaak came to sit beside Varda on the couch and placed her hand gentle on her hip-bone. Varda felt a surge of warmth, and the pain subsided. Shaak still held her hand there, eyes closed, for some time before she withdrew and folded her hands in her lap.
"Varda, you have severe damage to this joint. As one Jedi to another, I would like to bring you to my new home – not far from this world – and see what can be done. I have a great many herbal medicines I have created there and I feel that one of them might be perfect to help you regenerate some tissue and get the healing process started."
Varda stunned. This was not at all what she had expected this visit to be.
Shaak simply smiled. "It's the least I can do, for one who is a living treasure – as are all Force sensitive people who remain in the Galaxy. We must take care of each other."
Varda sat back in her chair and put a hand to her chest. She didn't dare hope for complete healing, but to have even a chance to walk without pain again was beyond anything she could have asked for.
Shaak then went into detail about the day of the Purge and Order 66, then about her efforts to start over, and the decision to build a brand-new Order of Force adept people that would replace the Jedi. She also mentioned some of the survivors, such as Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Jocasta Nu, but gave no details on their whereabouts. Finally, she spoke about Anakin Skywalker's transformation into Darth Vader and the clear and present danger he represented to all surviving ex-Jedi.
Feeling free and easy now, Varda then told Shaak about Devin and the soil decontamination project they were undertaking on Nechako and Yemer. Shaak then mentioned Bail Organa and the fledgling rebellion against the Empire, but also that it was extremely privileged information.
Seeing that the conversation could easily go on for some time, Varda went to the kitchen to get tea. She returned to find Shaak quietly putting away her comm device, but thought nothing of it.
As they sipped the fragrant steaming tea, Varda offered her own connections. "I've also met with Senator Organa, and I understand the need for strict secrecy. I also met another of your cohorts, a Togruta named Ahsoka Tano."
At the mention of the name, Shaak's eyes narrowed and her front lekku changed shades ever so slightly, Varda quickly noticed this, and asked, "Are you quite close with Ahsoka? If you don't mind my asking…"
Shaak coughed into her fist, then cleared her throat. "Uh, yes. In a manner of speaking. Let's just say I take an inordinate interest in matters pertaining to her." Shaak took another sip, then glanced directly at Varda. "Could you tell me what your impression of her was? How did she seem…" the Togruta's voice trailed off. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else.
Varda shrugged. "I had my doubts, back in the day, when she was assigned to be Skywalker's padawan, but she's become a fine young woman." Though she left out the part about watching the situation of Ry on Yemer, Varda told the story of her meeting with Ahsoka and their interactions since.
Shaak listened with interest, but her face twisted when she spoke. "I suppose she told you she is no longer a Jedi."
"Yes," Varda said simply.
Shaak shook her head. "I suppose she didn't tell you why."
"No, and I did not ask."
Starting slowly at first, Shaak related the story of how, near the end of the War, Ahsoka was accused of treason and expelled from the Jedi Order. "I was on the Council, you know, third in command. I had deep misgivings. However, I kept those to myself. To this day, I remain ashamed of my role in the matter. When she was cleared, we extended our condolences and invited her back into the Order – but she turned us down and walked away. Can you imagine my joy to learn that she also survived the Purge?" As she unloaded all of it, Shaak's voice went from her normal flat monotone into something approaching a plea.
Varda looked at Shaak with some sympathy. Ahsoka's guardedness and reluctance to say much about herself now revealed itself in a new light. "Yes, now I understand. Thank you for telling me."
"But Varda … I would be most grateful at this time if you did not inform Ahsoka that I am also still alive."
"I don't understand, Shaak. Why wouldn't you want her to know?"
Shaak was becoming a bit rattled by the whole thing and simply stammered, "I have my reasons …"
From the hallway, the buzzer sounded. Shaak, relieved by the interruption, glanced toward the door.
Varda decided to let the matter go, and simply went to the door, Shaak following behind her. She was surprised to see two strangers when she opened the door: a tall Zabrak, young but fully adult, with dark red eyes set in a pale face, and dark horns and dark braided hair cascading behind her. Besides her stood a young human of about twelve or thirteen, a skinny boy with dark hair and a deep tan.
"Knight Varda, it is my pleasure to present my apprentice, Padawan Maris Brood, and also our new acolyte, Xendar Silkaw." Shaak gestured to each in turn.
Both Maris and Xendar bowed to Varda, and she invited them inside.
"Varda, I wanted you to meet my people, now that we are going to take you to our home planet so as to heal your injury," Shaak told her. "I further want to explain that it is my great desire now to build a new Order of Force-sensitive people in the Galaxy and a fond hope that it will someday be an organization that stands for truth and justice – things we are now sorely lacking in the Empire of today."
Varda looked from Shaak to her apprentices with new appreciation. "I am very pleased to meet both of you," she said.
Shaak went on to explain a bit about each of their backgrounds, then turned to Varda. "Are you ready? I don't think you'd want to wait on this."
"Just let me gather my things." Varda went to the living room. She saved her work on the computer, transferring it to a slim datadrive, then shut the machine down. In the kitchen, while Shaak washed the dishes, Varda gathered up her comm, her datapad, and her flimsiplast notes. How long the healing would take, she did not know, but there might yet be an opportunity to make progress on her work.
That was when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Varda, what is this?" Shaak asked, gesturing to her armload of things.
"My work, for the soil decontamination project."
Shaak just looked at Varda for a moment. Though it did not feel invasive, Varda could tell she was reading her carefully.
"Leave it behind." Shaak said firmly. "There is a lot of stress bound up for you in this. You won't be able to heal if you're still holding that energy within you."
Varda's shoulder's slumped, but she knew Shaak was right. "Just let me send a message to my friends," she said. After she packed the rest away in the cupboard, she took her comm and wrote Devin a quick message.
I have reconnected with an old acquaintance and have been offered a chance to receive treatment for my hip joint. I am not sure when I will be back, but I look forward to seeing you then.
Devin and Shie were away for a rare chance to be together while Silas' mother looked after the kids, but she knew he would find the message on the computer in the barn when he returned.
Then she opened an empty message to write to Ahsoka. For this one, it took longer for her to know what to say. At last she wrote, Thank you for your recent messages and for the speeder and everything you brought for me. My friends confirmed your report; thank you for your vigilance. Please proceed as you see fit.
With that, Varda put the comm in the cupboard on the top of the datapad and closed the cupboard door. "I'm ready," she said.
"Excellent! Then let's go."
As Varda pulled on her coat and scarf, Shaak explained the situation to Maris. The Zabrak gave Varda an approving look. "Master Shaak is the best. She will take care of you."
On Yemer
"Cheethwet heard you want to work on the Dead Zone and so they came to see you."
"What?" Ry heard the words, but they almost didn't make sense.
"Cheethwet heard you want to work on the Dead Zone and so they came to see you," Ava Gerges repeated, enunciating each word. "And here they are now!"
Coming through the door behind the Elder was a person less than half his height, clad in a simple brown robe and trailing a slender meter-long tail behind them, the same grey-green as their pointed face. Namely, Cheethwet.
Ry wiped her hands, a sticky mess of the clay she was using to make seed balls on top of a tarp in the middle of Ava Gerges' home, since it was too hot in the sun outside. She had been feeling frustrated the past couple of days after the conversation with Dr. Gunma, but she couldn't very well say No to working with Cheethwet, since that was evidently part of the deal if she wanted to prove that she was serious about the Dead Zone project. She stood up and gave the Yemerian a reluctant nod.
Cheethwet spoke a few words to Ava Gerges, and then looked at Ry.
"Cheethwet is inviting you to go to the Dead Zone this evening."
"Are you going too?"
"No. I am going to enjoy having the place to myself," Ava Gerges said, matter-of-fact.
Ry scowled. "How are we going to communicate?"
Cheethwet pulled a grey slate from their pocket, scribbled something with a piece of chalk and then held it up for Ry to see. No problem! It read.
Out of excuses, Ry followed Cheethwet out the door into the late afternoon heat where the cargo speeder sat waiting. She sat down in the uncomfortably warm passenger seat. Cheethwet got in the driver's side and wrote something on the slate again.
First, we're going to a ceremony and then I want to show you some things.
Ry squirmed. A ceremony. "Let's do it!" she said, and hoped it didn't sound as sarcastic as she felt.
On Felucia
In the difficult days following the Jedi Purge, Jedi Master Shaak Ti took the displaced padawan Maris Brood under her wing and made a home for them both on the steaming jungle planet of Felucia. They lived there for a number of years, training and studying to further develop their power in the Force. They lived in strict secrecy, but in due time began to welcome others to their protected refuge: first the young Force-sensitive human Xendar Silkaw of Asrat, then soon after the Jedi Knight Varda Wahi.
When the hatch of Shaak's starship Intrepid II opened, the planet Felucia greeted Varda with a wall of hot wet air. She stump-stepped her way beside Shaak out onto the damp ground and saw around her a world of huge strange fungi and massive macro-lichens, intergrown with bulbous trees and spiky ferns. In a clearing, there was a hut built of smooth black wood, ten-by-twenty meters more or less with macro-lichen thatch on the roof. Slim electrical wires trailed into the forest and powered a single lightbulb that lit up the dusk when Shaak reached out a hand to Force-activate the switch.
"A very peaceful surrounding you have, Master Ti. But it is rather warm here," Varda remarked.
Shaak chuckled softly. "Yes, but we've grown accustomed to it. The heat should help with your healing process. You know, Varda, there is a holocron I've been updating with more background on our flora here on Felucia. Into it, I've entered all of the native plant species I've found here and then analyzed them at the molecular level. For your situation, I have already picked out the combination I will need."
Varda looked at Shaak with wonder. "And to think you were once my student. I feel a small measure of pride knowing that."
Shaak smiled. "Yes, I owe much of it to you. You were the one that got me interested in the biology and structure of the plant world. So many think of me as a strict military mind, and, while I will always honour those whom I fought alongside, I am also aware that not all of us were prepared to do that."
"Thank you," Varda murmured. Still limping noticeably, she followed Shaak into her small home: a spartan room with a low table and a bed on the floor near the wall.
Shaak turned to her. "We will get you set up here for the healing process. It would be best for you to sleep on the ship for a couple of nights as the medicine starts working, but I am going to administer the treatment here. I will also use some techniques I've perfected via the Force."
Varda nodded. "I'm going to put myself under your trust, Shaak. But, I must say, I am rather impressed with your progress since you were my student. I think you may have taken it to a new level."
Shaak laughed. "Well, let's see about that."
Maris and Xendar left them so Shaak could concentrate on her patient. Varda was asked to lie on something like an army cot that Shaak set up. Shaak proceeded to massage a thick ointment into her hip. It gave a heady aroma, like cloves mixed with pine but with a vaguely fungal note that Varda couldn't place, as Shaak placed a hand on Varda and surged some warmth into the area. Varda felt suddenly relaxed.
"Now, please drink this."
Varda opened her eyes to see Shaak holding a big clear spoon, full of dark green liquid. She made a face at its sharp bitterness, but as it coursed through her it brought a growing sense of strength. After more Force-energy, Shaak had Varda rise up and sit on the edge of the cot.
"How do you feel now, Knight Varda?"
"Certainly better … but have you just removed the pain?"
"Partially. That's because you need to have full range of movement. You are going to need to strengthen the muscles in this area – on both sides of your body – to take some of the pressure off the joint."
Varda nodded. "I understand what you are saying, Shaak. I've let myself become weak in key areas."
"Yes. But it's not too late. If you follow my program, you will see results in the next 90 days or so. I'm going to have a special walking aid for you to use as you get stronger."
"Will my joint start to repair itself?"
"That's the plan. Now I want to get you off of it so you may heal."
Shaak then levitated Varda off the cot via the Force and slowly transferred her to a stateroom on board her starship. After Shaak served her a mug of dark red chamomile-scented tea, Varda fell into a dreamless sleep.
On Yemer
It was a two-hour drive to the Dead Zone. They stopped at the edge to put on life-masks.
"So are Dr. Gunma and Dr. Unayat meeting us there?" Ry asked.
Cheethwet just shook their head and held up a stubby finger to request her patience.
Ry was left to wonder just what this ceremony might be and what it was all supposed to be about.
The sun was big and red over the horizon when the speeder turned a corner around a rocky outcropping in a part of the Dead Zone Ry didn't recognize, and came upon a group of about twenty or so people, all Yemerians. All wore life-masks. Cheethwet alone was clad in brown Siluan robes; others wore sleeveless tunics woven of pale beige crisscrossed by threads of black and brown, yellow and red, with a cloak or blanket slung over one shoulder in anticipation of cold soon to come. At one meter tall, Cheethwet was also the smallest of stature; the others stood a full head above them. Looking around the group, it occurred to Ry that being reptilian, that probably meant Cheethwet was also the youngest.
They waited in silence until a speeder carrying six more people arrived. Then the tallest member of the group, a stocky grey-brown person with small silver eyes, called the group to attention. They gathered in a circle around a tall clay urn, and then began chanting.
It was more rhythmic than Siluan chant, with no melody Ry could discern, all sss-th-ss-th like the wind and whistle-click-whistle like the sound of the desert insects, punctuated by clapping and stamping that she did not attempt to imitate. Her gaze wandered off to the blazing sunset, wishing she could slink away, but as tall as she was, there was no way to leave inconspicuously and this was not the time to give herself a bad name for being rude. And so she squared her shoulders and stood at attention.
As she stood, feigning attention but letting her mind wander, Ry felt a hum at the edge of her perception. It was both higher and deeper than the voice of the chanters, almost a physical sound yet beyond physical. It was hard to make out, yet it seemed to share the same tik tik, ta-ta tik tik rhythm as the chant. Against the lifeless silence of the Dead Zone, Ry sensed something alive here besides the Yemerians gathered in ceremony. She looked around. The sun had just gone down and turned the world to dusk. Her fuzzy Force-sense found nothing out there. Whatever it was, it was within the circle.
The circle, however, was turning into a snaking line. The leader of the chant had picked up the clay urn and was now leading the others in a sigmoid procession. Ry was planning to straggle at the rear, but then felt a tug at her sleeve. It was Cheethwet, pulling her along with the middle of the group, and pointing out to her the rows of sticks poked into the sand, marking the edges of the pathway they followed. With her long legs, Ry felt awkward taking small steps to keep with the group's slow pace.
The chant did not stop when the procession started, but rather took on a call and response pattern. With each call, the leader splashed liquid from the urn to the right and to the left and the group replied, the same words each time. The words were somewhat muffled by their masks, but it sounded like Titiktu sath! Titiktu chi-sath!
Ry did not attempt to join in. She was doing her best to detach from her discomfort with the foreign ritual and pay attention to that Force-sense of something else being alive. It seemed to be coming mostly from the urn, dissipating but not disappearing as the procession wove its way along the stick-marked pathes in the twillight of the Dead Zone.
At length, when the last of what was in the urn was gone, there was one last cry of Titiktu sath! and the reply, Titiktu chi-sath! Then the ritual was over. Ry looked around in the near-dark and pieced the situation together. They must have been spreading some kind of inoculum. Dr. Gunma had mentioned that Cheethwet was interested in some kind of microbial bioremediation. Ry wondered whether they had, in such a short time, figured out how to culture the mutant life-form that lived in the Dead Zone's chemical mess, and whether or not this sort of inoculation would work.
While the others broke off into small groups and piled into speeders parked nearby. Ry looked down and saw Cheethwet holding something out to her with a gesture that said Take it.
It was smooth and cool and oblong and fit nicely in her hand. As it warmed to her touch, a light at one end turned on: a flashlight, powered by thermocouple. In its light, Cheethwet held up the slate. I'm fine in the dark, but you might want that.
"OK, thanks," Ry said.
Cheethwet made a follow-me gesture and headed towards their speeder.
"Where are we going?"
Cheethwet just pointed to where craggy mountains stood black against the starry sky.
Ry froze. "We aren't going to that cave, are we?"
Cheethwet gave a little whistling sigh and rubbed out the writing on the slate, then scribbled again: We're going to get the microscope.
Why they had to go to the mountains for a microscope was beyond Ry, but she was pleased to hear that there was some sort of scientific equipment available. "Sounds good!"
On the way, please tell me your ideas for the land-healing, Cheethwet added to the slate.
"Do you know what DNA is?" Ry asked, as Cheethwet set the speeder in motion.
With a curt nod, Cheethwet made it clear they did. Same for genes, gene isolation and gene sequencing. Ry realized she was on different footing than she'd expected, and soon found it didn't actually take long to outline her plan. "I'm basically planning to get a full genome sequence of the Dead Zone lifeform, compare it to a sample of the same species from the living desert, and then take whatever genes are different between them and splice them into bacteria to make a gene library. Then we expose the bacteria to the toxins and see which ones survive. Whichever ones survive, it means the genes they carry have the ability to degrade the toxins, or at least confer resistance to them. Then we use those genes to engineer species that can grow in the Dead Zone."
Cheethwet nodded thanks for the explanation, and the two passed the rest of the drive in silence.
Day had been hot but the night was cool. During the ceremony, one of the Yemerians had passed out hot-packs to help their fellow cold-bloods keep moving. Ry wished she hadn't refused to take one. She found herself shivering in her loose tunic by the time Cheethwet stopped the speeder again. She wrapped one arm around herself for warmth and held out the flashlight with the other as she followed Cheethwet into the mouth of a cave.
Despite the dark, Ry recognized the place where they'd laid the Siluan dead, but after making a bow to the entrance of that chamber, Cheethwet led her left and up a series of low steps carved into the limestone, into a small room with neither skylight nor windows. A slight movement of air told Ry that there was in fact some means of ventilation, and the place smelled only of slightly damp limestone, without any trace of mould. She scanned the room with the flashlight. Crates were stacked against the walls, and a low table had various lumps and bumps covered in a dust cloth.
Cheethwet lift the dust cloth carefully and pointed. Ry moved closer. There were three identical instruments, all of which at first glance looked like a set of tubular fingers on a stand, two pointing up and three pointing down. That was when she remembered what Cheethwet had said.
"That's the microscope?" Ry didn't mean to sound incredulous.
Cheethwet nodded and wiped the slate clean.
While Cheethwet's chalk hissed and squeaked, Ry took a better look. She was no stranger to a microscope but the ones she had used had digitally-controlled lenses inside a computer casing. A holographic projector (or, in some of the lesser labs of the AgriCorps, a screen) meant there was no need for eye-pieces. Although the body of the microscopes did not look old, Ry could only imagine that these were ancient. She bent over to look up into the three down-ward pointing fingers. Yes, lenses. Gingerly, she rotated them around: click, click, click as each one snapped in and out of place. She looked for a light source and found a mirror that could be angled to reflect light up through a hole in a small platform where a slim metal clip sat waiting. On the table nearby, there was a box of thin transparaplast slides. Ancient indeed. The microscopes she was used to simply had a little chamber to place the specimen; the machine did the rest.
Cheethwet tapped Ry's arm. The slate was so full of tiny writing this time that Ry sat down on the edge of the table to take time to read it.
We are very glad that you want to study the Dead Zone. Your ideas for gene isolation sound interesting. But please get to know this place before you try to heal it. You can borrow a microscope and see the organisms here. They'll help you to understand.
Ry read the message twice. She did not have any particular interest in microscopy, but with little else to work with, it might not hurt, she thought, to spend some time characterizing the Dead Zone organism and its counterparts in the living desert. After Dr. Gunma's terse reluctance, Cheethwet's ready openness was a welcome change.
"Alright," she said, "I'll see what I can do."
on Felucia
11 years BBY – 13 months – 7 to 5 days
There was no window to the room on board the Intrepid II where Varda lay on her bed of recovery, so she had no sense of what time it was or how long she slept, yet whenever she woke, she was never alone.
Sometimes young Xendar was there, happy to read to her from the holocron Shaak had made of Felucia's plant and fungal life, or even happier to hear Varda's stories of a time when Shaak Ti was a bright young student learning physics and plant biology from Varda in the Jedi Temple.
Sometimes it was Maris, full of an intense bottled-up energy, but it only took a little questioning from Varda to get her spinning tales of rancors she befriended and wild game she hunted in Felucia's semi-sentient jungles.
But most often, it was Shaak, singing softly in her own language, stopping to ask Varda how she felt as she woke up. Then she would treat Varda's hip with more ointment and Force-energy and serve her another cup of strong herbal tea. Then they would talk, sometimes about the mundane.
"I wonder, what is your diet, normally?" Shaak asked on one occasion.
Varda had to think. The outside world felt far away. "Potatoes," she said at last, "and lots of greens. I've started having milk again since I went to Nechako."
Shaak nodded knowingly. "That may explain a few things. Most potatoes and greens are high in oxalates, and the crystals can build up in your joints and damage the connective tissue."
"Ah, I see," was all Varda could say.
"Before you go, I'll give you a tea that will help your body to clear the oxalates, but I'll also show you some ways to reduce them."
Sometimes, they would just share a comfortable silence. It was in those times that Varda sensed most clearly the protective bubble that surrounded her, and she knew that Shaak was silently weaving a cocoon around her in the Force. Into that cocoon, her fear and her angst about Ry and the Siluans did not come. In its absence, there were times when she simply felt a timeless peace, but at other times, the sadness behind the fear and the angst would rise to the surface and flow as unbidden tears. At those times, Shaak would simply put a hand on Varda's forehead. It didn't stop the tears, but Varda found the strength to accept the tears until they ran dry.
"It's good to cry," Shaak would tell her, something Varda never thought she'd hear from a Jedi Master. "When you hold it in, the pain manifests in your body, but if you let it flow out of you, then you can heal."
One time, when Varda woke from her healing sleep, she took a deep breath and smiled at Shaak, who was sitting there reading silently from the holocron.
"How do you feel?" Shaak asked.
Varda shifted under the covers, getting a sense of her limbs. There was still a soreness around her left hip, but that feeling of bone grinding on bone was gone. "I feel good!" she said, and smiled.
"Excellent!"
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days."
Varda reached out and took Shaak's hand. A silent exchange of Force energy took place between them; this time, the older woman initiated it. It was a simple expression of gratitude. Shaak simply nodded in response.
"It's night now, but in the morning, let's go for a walk and see how you feel."
11 years BBY – 11 months – 5 days
The sun was bright and the air far more hot and humid than Varda had remembered, but she welcomed the embrace of Felucia's thick atmosphere as she emerged from her time of healing aboard the starship.
"Slowly, just start slowly," Shaak reminded her.
Varda gripped her walking stick, black with a thin white grain. She was impressed at how light, yet strong, the instrument was. Shaak had made it for her from the Wroshyr wood that she brought from the planet Kashyyyk. Even with the cane, Varda's first steps were tentative but she stepped forward with greater confidence when she found herself walking with relatively low pain.
"Make sure you use the cane until you gain more strength. The rebuilding of your hip will take time, as it's a major joint in your body."
The prospect of continued healing stretched out like a new horizon. "Will I become like I once was?" Varda asked Shaak.
"In time, perhaps. But I want you to concentrate on the exercises I showed you. It's very important to strengthen your core areas. As you age even further, this will serve you well. I can't tell you how many humans of your age I see in such pain. They are often confined to repulsor chairs for the rest of their lives."
"But not Togruta?"
"We are more in tune with our native land, where the soil and its nurturing ability can replenish us. We often live to 150 standard years and some have even made it to their 200th annual cycle."
"I never really knew that much about your species … that's quite remarkable."
"Someday, maybe you will take a voyage to Shili with me and see how we live."
The warmth in Varda's heart was as bright as the sun. "I think I'd like that very much. Shaak, I just want to thank you again for all you've done to help me. We hardly knew each other, but I almost feel like a member of your family …"
Shaak smiled, and reached out to caress Varda on her upper left arm. "All those who live in the Light of the Force … I see as sisters and brothers to me and those who are joining my new order. We extend our hands in welcome – should you so decide."
Varda nodded but didn't meet Shaak's eye. Shaak had spoken to her often of her dreams for a new Order of Force-sensitive people who would draw on the wisdom of the Jedi and yet grow beyond it. It spoke to Varda's own long-held desire for a reform of the Jedi Order, but she also had promises to keep, to Devin and to the Siluans.
Shaak smiled sadly. "I know you can't leave your friends without finishing what you've started, but whenever you are ready to come, I am ready to welcome you here." She reached down to give Varda a hug, and the older woman smiled as she hugged her back, one hand still holding the gifted cane.
"What's next?" Varda asked.
Shaak laughed and held her arms open wide. "What's next? Relax. Explore. For your healing, you'll need to be here another ten-day or more. I hope you'll enjoy getting to know this place."