Chapter Text
Loth-wolves were mysterious and beautiful creatures. Native to the planet Lothal, they were able to use hyperspace tunneling to cross impossible distances. When it suited them, they could even traverse time by entering the World Between Worlds. Most people believed them to be extinct. I, for one, knew they weren’t real, but I loved their animation design. Gosh, it’d be cool if creatures like that existed on Earth.
Then one day, one did.
I was lazing in a park on a warm autumn afternoon, wearing my favorite leggings and combat boots. Life was fine, but it was times like this that made me ache for more. I was between jobs, writing fiction to pass the time, no permanent friends or family who would miss me if I just sank into the grass and disappeared. Hm, maybe I could write a story about that.
Oh, I didn’t mind, really; I moved into and out of people’s lives all the time, loved just being a good influence in their world until they were ready to let me go. Like I was the therapist friend. I wasn’t really meant to stick around long-term.
But it made me wonder, you know? Staring up into that blind blue sky, watching the wisps of cloud roll past. What would it be like if I didn’t just roll past? If I stayed? Maybe it was why I enjoyed fantasy and sci-fi so much—not so much for the escapism, but for the feeling that I could love these characters and they’d never go away. I could hold on forever and ever and ever. Since I was a crutch, I existed only to wean people off of me, and while I loved it, I couldn’t claim it wasn’t lonely.
That was how the Loth-wolf found me.
Loth-wolves knew things. Call it intuition or attunement to the Force, but they seemed to just sort of know if someone required their guidance. If someone needed immediate protection. If someone was good or evil.
If someone belonged in another galaxy.
She felt me, like a voiceless call through the Force, and the elder Loth-wolves granted her permission to answer. They didn’t do this often, but it was allowed when necessary. She traveled a long time hence to a galaxy far, far away from Lothal, where things were familiar yet strange, and the Force expressed itself in different ways. There, in a grassy park near my apartment, she found me—a soul born misplaced and singing for release.
She put me to sleep—it was easier this way—and pulled me onto her back, careful to remain unseen. Then, listening to where the Force said I belonged, she tunneled through space and followed the call.
I woke to a sight I had only seen in TV shows and video games. The world around me was old and red and strange, filled with thriving life yet somehow still exuding a feeling of decay. Great snaking tree trunks wound through my surroundings and into the air above my head. Far away, a giganto-frickin-normous bat screeched.
I was on Dathomir.
Naturally, I knew I must be dreaming, or at least hallucinating, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. I didn’t normally think about the dream state while I was in it, but... first time for everything, right? How else could I be here in Star Wars land?
I sighed. Of all the places to dream myself into, it just had to be Dathomir. I wondered where in the timeline I was? And where on the planet? Hopefully not too close to the Nightsisters; they were creepy as heck.
But, uh... how the heck was I supposed to get off of this planet? The only communicator I had was a cell phone, and I doubted that would be of any use in this galaxy. Even if I did have someone’s comm channel, there was no way my phone possessed the range needed to call anyone for aid. Plus, you know, no service. And nothing in my satchel-purse would be of any help whatsoever.
As I was contemplating this, though—and wondering how long it’d be before a wild rancor made me its lunch—I heard a ship fly overhead. Well, it was a start.
“Please don’t be bad guys,” I grumbled, turning toward it.
It was a VCX-100 freighter, the same type of ship as the Ghost, and it landed nearby. I could see the carved cliffsides of the Nightsisters’ home through the trees a ways off, which left me uneasy. The people in the ship were probably here to do business with Mother Talzin, so they at least were expected and would soon be greeted by some Nightsister warriors. If I got any closer, the warriors would know I was here, too, and I didn’t fancy meeting those witches. (Though of course, that was all assuming they hadn’t been wiped out yet.) Frickin’ stupid dream, landing me practically on their doorstep.
When I emerged into the clearing where the freighter had landed, I was greeted by the sight of Jedi Masters Kit Fisto and Plo Koon in conversation beside the ship. I shouldn’t have been surprised—it was a dream, after all—but I was anyway. Two of my favorite Jedi were right here, on Dathomir of all places! They’d had some complications in their travel plans, which was why they’d come in a freighter instead of their personal fighters. (Will of the Force, y’all.) They were here to discuss the planet’s neutrality in the war.
“Master Plo!” I called. “Master Fisto!” I had no idea if they’d understand me, but I might as well try.
The two Jedi turned, looking genial, if a bit confused. I clearly wasn’t a Dathomirian witch, so why was I here?
“Yes?” Master Plo said. “What can we do for you, madam?”
Oh man, that was actually Plo Koon’s voice. I was talking to Plo Koon and Christofisto! (“Kit” is a nickname for “Christopher,” ergo “Christofisto.” Deal with it.) And thank goodness, they spoke English. Or was I speaking Basic? Ah, it didn’t matter. Dream logic. Now, how to explain my predicament?
I approached them at the ramp of their ship. “Hey, guys, I... honestly, I dunno how to even... Fine. I’m stranded on Dathomir and could really use a lift.”
“Well, that’s quite unfortunate,” Fisto said. (Holy crap, his accent was even better in person!) “Once our business here is concluded, we’ll be happy to give you a lift to the nearest spaceport.”
Thanks to his fabulous accent and Plo Koon’s fatherly smile, I was definitely starting to fangirl, which actually confused me since I’d never done it before in a dream. Oh, I’d been excited before, but this was real, honest fangirling. And... and there were a lot of very fine details to this dream, even more than usual. I could smell the sickly sweet flora, feel the warm stale breeze. But... I had to be dreaming, right?
Koon tilted his head at me. “How did you come to be stranded here, of all places?”
Man, I wished I knew that. “I must’ve hit my head or something,” I said sheepishly. “I don’t even know when I am. What’s going on in the galaxy right now? Maybe that’ll help.”
Fisto cocked an eyebrow in an incredulous smirk. “The Clone Wars,” he told me. “The whole galaxy has divided into Republic or Separatists. That must have been some head injury.”
Well, I should’ve known it was pre-Order 66, otherwise these two would both be dead. “How far into the war are we?” I asked.
“Nearly two years,” Koon said. They both looked simultaneously amused and concerned, which I supposed was fair. How could I live in this galaxy and not know all this? (Psych—I didn’t live here!)
Hm. The Clone Wars TV show was kinda vague on exactly when certain things happened—they had a history of showing episodes out of chronological order—but this did help me ground myself a little more. Had Umbara happened yet? What about Lola Sayu? Dooku’s betrayal of Ventress? And how could I ask without sounding like I either knew state secrets or was a maniac?
“Are you all right?” Koon asked.
I pursed my lips. “I’ve met some Jedi before,” I lied. “Tell me, are Master Piell and Master Krell still alive?”
The two men glanced at each other. “Master Krell is fine,” Koon said, “but I’m afraid Master Piell has recently passed on.”
Hm. So that meant that Echo was newly in Separatist hands; Krell’s evil had yet to be discovered; Hardcase, Fives, Tup, Waxer, and all the soldiers who’d die on Umbara were still alive; Padmé wasn’t pregnant yet; nobody knew about inhibitor chips; Barriss hadn’t bombed the Jedi temple (and framed Ahsoka for it) yet; Satine was still alive; and Death Watch hadn’t taken over Mandalore yet, which also meant they probably hadn’t joined up with Maul.
“Is Ventress still working for Dooku?” I asked.
Fisto nodded. “She is. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some business to attend to. You’re welcome to wait for us on the ship.”
So the show was a bit out of order. Ventress was still working for Dooku, so Savage hadn’t been mutilated and enslaved yet, Feral was alive, and Maul was still in a garbage pit somewhere. This just kept getting better and better. Sure, this was all just a dream—how could it be otherwise?—but I could still do as much good as possible before I woke up.
First order of business: save the Nightbrothers.
“I need your help,” I said, lowering my voice in case any Nightsisters were nearby. The Jedi had already started walking away, but they paused to look back at me.
“Of course,” Koon replied. “We shall take you where you—”
“No. I need your ship. We have to rescue the Nightbrothers.”
Naturally, they looked more confused than before. I wouldn’t be able to convince them unless I told them what I knew.
“The male Zabraks on this planet live as slaves to the females,” I reminded them. “I get that you’ve been swamped lately, but allowing this slavery to continue goes against the Jedi code. You probably haven’t done anything yet cuz there’s messy politics involved, but if I steal your ship to do it, you’ll look like victims and won’t be blamed. I can take your ship, rescue the Nightbrother clan, and bring them to Iridonia or something.”
Dumping it all like that was probably not the best way to convince them, lol. Christofisto and Plo frowned.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” Fisto said. “There’s a medical droid on the ship who can take care of you until we get back.”
I rolled my eyes. “I lied about hitting my head. I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m sure it’s the will of the Force that I ran into you guys when I did. I know you have no reason to trust me, but please try. We have to save those guys before any more of them get killed or enslaved in a Selection.”
Koon looked thoughtful. He’d seen many injured people in this war and before, and I did not seem injured to him. Still, they had no reason to trust me yet.
I sighed and lowered my voice even more. “Look. Sometime in the next several months, the Nightsisters will select a man here to be an assassin for Dooku. They’ll use magick to enhance his strength, size, and connection to the Force. He’s gonna kill a lot of people if we don’t prevent that, and then he’ll resurrect an even greater threat when he finds his brother Maul.”
The Kel Dor’s brows drew together. “That Sith lord is dead. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know a lot of things,” I told him. “I know that at the beginning of the war, your ship was destroyed by the Malevolence, and you were stranded in an escape pod with three surviving clones. Wolffe said no one would look for them because they were just clones, but you told them they were important to you. Uhh... Ahsoka and Anakin found your pod, you barely escaped the Malevolence’s EMP—yeah. I also know that Master Piell died on Lola Sayu during a prison break, but not before he’d passed his half of the hyperspace coordinates on to Ahsoka Tano. I hate Tarkin, by the way. Now, Mother Talzin is waiting for you guys, so you have to decide already. Will you help me? If not, I get it, just... leave me on Dathomir. I’ll find some other way to save the Nightbrothers.”
Fortunately for me, Plo and Christofisto were quick thinkers; they’d survived many a battle by trusting their instincts and the Force more than their own sense of logic. I knew secret details of the Lola Sayu mission, which either meant I was a Separatist spy, or I was a good guy who somehow knew more than should be possible. I didn’t feel like an enemy. Maybe I was Force-sensitive and had received visions?
“How do you intend to convince the Nightbrothers to leave?” Koon asked. “Dathomir is all they know.”
“Not sure,” I admitted, “but I’m hoping they want freedom badly enough to try it.”
“You may fail,” Fisto said.
“I know.”
The two Jedi shared a brief but intense look. Something about this felt right.
“Very well,” Fisto said at last. “Wait to take off until we’re inside the Nightsisters’ village. We will try to keep them busy.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” I muttered with a loud exhale. Then I hesitated. “Oh, uh... one small problem... I don’t know how to fly.”
“There is an astromech onboard,” Koon told me. “He will handle that. Make sure you disable the Jedi tracking beacon and communications array.”
I smiled. “Thank you so much. When we’re done, I can set the freighter adrift near Florrum so Hondo will pick it up and further mask Jedi involvement.”
“Florrum is rather far from Iridonia,” Fisto noted.
“Exactly,” I replied. “Oh! How do I wipe the mech’s memory afterward?”
Despite his underlying confusion, Master Plo had a parental warmth coming off of him now, like he was pleased that I was trying so hard. That guy was such a freaking dad. He explained how to wipe the droid’s memory and gave me a password to use so the mech would trust me. Then, he took my hand. “What is your name, child?”
His long claws felt so strange, and yet so warm. “Katie Ortega,” I said.
“Be careful, Katie. And may the Force be with you.”
With nodded farewells, the two Jedi Masters headed off into the trees to greet the Nightsister warriors. At the same time, I climbed up the ramp of their ship to board the freighter and begin my side quest. Holy crap. Holy crap. What had I just gotten myself into?