Chapter Text
You are engaged with an elsewhere that cannot be reached: isn’t that the defining characteristic of exile?
“She was armed only with this.”
Her Protector handed her a lightsaber. It was a different model that Kenobi’s. Sleeker, with a cone-shaped pommel. Still the weight and balance, the feeling of holding it brought back memories. That time her Ben asked her to hold his up to provide light as he changed the field dressing on her calf. From the injury she received when he dropped her. The barbs they exchanged. They talked so much during their time together. Verbal sparring. Saying so many words so that they could avoid saying what they really wanted to communicate. What they couldn’t communicate. She struggles for a split-second to put her regrets behind her.
“Bring her before me.”
She’s a little thing. Maybe the long black skirts and speckled silver-blue cloak add to the effect. She certainly seems to radiate the affect of smallness. The young woman approached with at a light stride, plucked at her skirt, and went into a low curtsey.
“Your grace.”
“Why are you here?”
She stood straight, her head slightly declined, hands clasped before her waist. Her hood cast her eyes in shadow but does not obscure the careful pattern of diamond tattoos that run from the bridge of her nose across both cheeks. “They didn’t tell you I have requested sanctuary?”
“They did indeed. Why here, why make that request with me?”
“I wish to avoid further military service. You not only represent the Council of Neutral Systems. You are also the leading voice in the antiwar movement. It was an easy choice. You are my best hope.”
“I thought the Jedi could just leave if they wished.” Had I only said the word.
“Under normal circumstances, yes. But I am also a commander in the Grand Army of the Republic who has gone away without leave. I stole a ship. Even though I sent the astromech back to return it there is the mater of spent hyperfuel and whatnot. It’s not nothing.”
“This is a genuine request? Kenobi hasn’t sent you on some undercover operation?”
“I would not think of deceiving you so, your grace. I genuinely disagree with our involvement in this war. If that means I must defy the council, then I must.” She looked down at the ground. “I heard from Skywalker’s Padawan the things you said on your journey to Coruscant.” The cadence of her speech increased. “Granted, it was third-hand information. But I was sure this would be a viable avenue. I am sorry if I was mistaken! I don’t know where else I could go! Who else would have the will and the power to grant me protection. I’ve thrown away my future. Gods, what have I done?”
“Calm yourself, girl!” Satine sighs. This young woman has really wound herself up tight. If this was a genuine display of emotion than she would make a lousy spy indeed. “We can discuss our feelings on the war and use of violence later. You are luck. I am in need of loyal advisors as of late. Down a governor and senator. Who knows how many more will follow. I can see the utility of having someone knowledgeable of the Jedi, workings of the Republic, and Separatist affiars on hand. I find the complexities of dealing with the Jedi an especially vexing matter. Perhaps granting sanctuary to an ex-Jedi in my interests.”
The girl looked away and pursed one side of her lips. She has a pinky finger extended and it traced the outline of the embossed heart on her belt buckle. Satine made a note of that. It must be a tell for when she is agitated.
“What is wrong?”
“I don’t think of myself as an ex-Jedi, your grace. I am not engaging in apostasy. I forsake my duties and left the Temple and am defying the Council. But only because I feel they no longer embody their own ideals. Ideals to which I wish to remain faithful. Some Jedi used to walk the path of a Wayseeker, travelling from place to place fulfilling what they saw as the will of the Force. Unattached from the supervision of the council. Granted, they were already Knights or Masters. I have not heard of such a thing as a Padawan Wayseeker but that is how I would like to define my drastic choice. I downloaded core teaching materials before I left and wish to continue my studies independently. I may be lying to myself that I can continue as such and still lay claim to the title, but I would rather live this lie than fall further into darkness and destruction.”
The Duchess sighed. “Barriss Offee, are all Jedi this infuriatingly pedantic?”
She had the cheek to curtsy again. “Only the ones who take great care, your grace.”
She hefted the saber. “I’m afraid I am going to have to keep this for a time. Master Kenobi’s recent visit has shown the wisdom of only allowing unarmed outsiders.”
“Understandable.”
“And it would be wise to limit whom you inform about your past, due to our people’s fraught history.”
“I see the wisdom in that.”
“Is there anything else you need of me?”
“Is there a teaching hospital nearby? I would like to continue my medical training as well, even if it means auditing classes.”
“That can be arranged. Due to your request of a second favor, I shall ask something else of you.”
“Name it, your grace.”
“There have been attempts on my life. If you are to attend these classes and work at the local medical center, then I shall house you in the dorms of the Royal Academy of Government where you can keep an eye on my nephew.”
“I would be honored to.”
“I shall make the arrangements. One more question. Your saber. What color is the blade?”
“It is blue, your grace.”
She took a slow deep breath. “Figures.”
The ship alert chime sounded, reverberating off the cabin’s walls. It woke him up, but he stubbornly waited for a second chime before answering. Looking over at his chrono it was just a half hour before his sleep shift was to end, not a big deal. But irksome.
“Yes?”
“General, you have a request for secure communication.”
“Is it coming though the Old Folks Home?”
“No, sir. The Senate.”
A diplomatic communique rather than Jedi. Interesting.
“Give me a minute then put it through.”
Enough time to hurriedly get dressed and run some fingers though his hair. It’s too early for boots, he did not care if it’s the Supreme Chancellor himself. The image flickered into existence.
“Satine!”
She was in casual dress, that pulled on Kenobi’s heart a bit.
“Master Kenobi.”
Alright, keep it formal if you wish. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I had a Padawan darken my door requesting political sanctuary.”
“Oh, that’s where she ended up.”
“You know this Barriss?”
“Not well, I am very familiar with her now-former Master. We were in the same clan as younglings. Miss Offee is friends with my Grand Padawan, I think.”
“What kind of a person is she?”
“Studious and serious like her Master. Maybe a little too thoughtful.”
“I can ill afford more tensions between Mandalore and outside interests. Would it cause problems if I granted her request?”
He sighed. “Her departure has caused some alarm but that is between the Order and herself. I don’t see there being much blowback. How is she? I am sure Master Unduli would be comforted if I could pass on news that she is well.”
“Troubled.” She hesitated a beat. “You really sent this girl off to war?”
Kenobi looked off to the side. Well, I didn’t personally. “Yes. It has been quite the season for regretful unprecedented actions.” When he returns eye contact as expected the Duchess has that look in her eyes. They are at loggerheads once again over an ethical dilemma.
“Then I shall grant her request and ensure she has a safe environment in which to reach adulthood.”
“You have my thanks, and I am sure her former mentor’s as well. She is in caring hands.”
They span a silence for moment. This happened often, they had so much to say to each other, but both knew it would do no good to continue.
“Be careful out there, Ben.”
He gave her a bow. “And you as well, your grace.”
The Duchess of Mandalore reached out to touch an unseen button and her image winked away. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master massaged his temples. The Great Negotiator at an impasse with the Duchess once more. He did not expect to have to scale a craggy cliff of suppressed emotions this early in his day cycle.
Her introduction to Doctor Zaz went well. He is the only other person outside the royal court who knows she is a Jedi. It would be folly to deceive someone with whom she will be working closely. Barriss Offee lugged her worldly possessions to her new home, two sets of her new work uniform balanced on top of her luggage. She felt exhausted, everything a whirlwind the last few days. At least soon she would have a bed. Soon she could rest, she could meditate. She didn’t have to start her educational routine for a few days.
She already had the door code but thought it would be polite to knock this first time. After a slight wait the door was opened and she was face to face with a fellow brunette, one with rather severely cut bangs.
“Yes?”
“I am Barriss Offee. Is this dormitory D-5?”
“Yes. Oh, you’re the new girl?” The Mandalorian looks her up and down.
“Yes. Pleased to meet you.”
She has a bit of a doubtful expression. “I’m Soniee, Lagos is out at the moment. Do you need help with all that?”
“No, I think I can manage.”
It was an octagonal room. Finally, a locale in Sundari that was not a cube. There was a multi-screened workstation table in its center that could accommodate every resident at the same time. The beds were situated on raised alcoves along every other wall. There were other doors presumably leading to storage space and a refresher.
“Which of the beds is mine?”
“You can take this one. Hold on, I hadn’t finished cleaning it off. We weren’t sure when you would arrive.”
Soniee collected up bits of tech that were midway though repairs or upgrades, relocating them to her side of the room. Barriss looked around her new home. Everything was painted gunmetal grey or a muted blue. Must be important colors to this culture.
“I hope you don’t mind a mid-session transfer.” She couldn’t help fidgeting with her fingers.
“Well, I won’t lie, it was nice having a little extra space. Are you in the leadership academy as well?”
“Medicine. I don’t anticipate sharing many courses.”
“That’s a pity. We won’t be able to help each other with our studies.”
“Is there some closet space for my clothes?”
Soniee deflated, Barriss can sense more annoyance from the human girl. “We hadn’t gotten around to clearing that out either. There’s a little space below your bunk. Do what you can there. I’ll start on the closet.”
She knows just what she should unpack first. There is a little shelf by the bunk. She opened one of her cases, removes the padding, and carefully lift her shrine, placing it down at a place of honor. She was just retrieving the candles when Soniee appeared at her shoulder.
“Is that a religious artifact?”
“It is.”
“That would explain your clothes.”
“Yes, I am a believer.”
“Who is it?”
“That is She of the Flowing Waters, one of the primary Mirialan deities.”
“Oh.” For the first time since their introductions there is a bit of curiosity in Soniee’s green eyes. “I don’t think I’ve met a Mirialan before. We don’t get a lot of off-planet immigration here.”
“That’s surprising. I’ve been very impressed with Sundari so far. I don’t see why more off-worlders would not move here.”
That provoked a half-smile, but her roommate could not to come up with a non-awkward response. She departed to provide some cleared closet space.
Barriss sighed and removed her hood and cloak then wondered if she could risk removing her cowl also. She looked over at Soniee. She hasn’t met Lagos yet but this one doesn’t seem to be attracted to women. She might as well, it would be very difficult to strictly follow modesty dress sharing such a confined space with two other ladies. She shook out her hair and her hand went right to locks behind her left ear where until recently lay her Padawan braid. The spot felt a bit silkier for lack of split ends. Its absence was the first of many signifiers of her changed lifestyle. With no master she had no one to ritualistically maintain the braid. She literally severed ties to her old ways when she snipped it off and left it on her pillow in her temple dormitory. She wondered if Master Unduli saved it as a keepsake.
“You should have some room now.”
“Thank you.”
“So why did you?”
“Why did I what?”
“Move here.”
“Oh. To get away from the war. I was living in the Republic, so Mirial was off the table. It’s behind Separatist lines.”
She started with her uniforms, then hung up her gowns. She would have to go shopping once she got her first paycheck and get some civilian clothes if she wanted to fit in a little easier. Well, as easy as she can considering her yellow-green complexion, and her facial and hand tattoos.
“That’s sad. That you can’t go back to your home world.”
“It is of a lesser sadness compared with other consequences of this conflict. But I appreciate your sympathy. And your willingness to open your home.”
“Heh. You were assigned here. There wasn’t much we could do.”
Her suitcases now empty she nested the smaller one inside the larger and put them up in overhead shelves. She reflected that most students have other possessions kept at their family housing; but this is all she had. Some sundries were left back at the Temple, of course. But not much. She had been taught to travel light for all her life. And she had no family in some other town, on some other planet. At least none to whom she retained any relationship.
Barriss took a seat on her bunk and picked up her datapad. Now that she had an academic messaging address she could take up a task that would be emotionally taxing, but essential. She opened a new message.
Master Unduli,
I hope you will still allow me to call you Master. I wanted to let you know I am safe. I will continue to learn, seek to improve myself, and live in harmony with the Living Force. I hope you are not terribly disappointed in me. You must understand it was out of my hands. I had to leave. I was tempted by the dark side and was overcome. In order to avoid going further down that path a single option was clear, I had to depart form this war. We have spoken many times about my feelings surrounding this destructive conflict. I will not take up more of your time on that matter. I hope you will remain safe and eventually select another Padawan, one who will not let you down.
You have to understand that my departure is not your failing. In a way I feel I am following your teachings, still. You taught me to examine problems from many angles, from many perspectives. I put that into effect. There was a darkness. Pressing into my mind. Seeping into my heart. Leaving your auspices was the only way out. It is a dereliction of duty, I know. I do have regrets. I shall always have regrets for leaving you. The Order is the closest bond I have ever had to a family. And you were the one to which I was closest. It was not an easy or capricious decision. In a way I feel I am following in my mother’s footsteps who as you know was a refugee and passed me into your hands. It is strange to feel again this kinship to someone I never knew.
I shall carry your teachings with me. I may have left you, but I will always regard you as my Master.
Give my warm regards to Gree and the other boys of the 41st.
May the Force light your path,
-Barriss
She hit ‘Send’ and closed her eyes, centering herself. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of your new roommate. It might be quite a while before she received a response. The message would have to be routed through several military relays.
She began a new message.
My dear Ahsoka,
I have landed and I am settling in. Please could you let me know how you are doing. I miss you already. Miss you dearly. I don’t know how I can make it through a week in my new home without seeing you smile. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you, helping, the two of us defending each other. Leaving you behind to fight is one of the things I regret the most. Know that my affection for you has not dimmed in the slightest, my friend. Please be safe. Watch your back. Always plan an escape. Be clever. I already know that you will be brave.
With warm regards,
-Barriss
“You alright?”
“Huh?”
“You’re crying.”
“Am I?” Barriss wiped at her cheeks, at her diamonds. “I suppose I am. I was just writing to my family. Letting them know I am settling in. I suppose I let me feelings get away from me.”
“Mmm. I’m going out for a few hours. I’ll be coming back with Lagos so you can meet her then.”
“Okay. I’m going to meditate for a bit. Be well.”
“Uhh, same, I guess.”
Barriss had the distinct impression that she was coming across as a bit alien to Soniee, but that couldn’t be helped. She was already concealing much, she had to be true to herself in all other aspects. So that she could ground herself. She was dangling form a precipice and had just found a promising handhold. It was necessary keep climbing and improving to once more attain grace.
She lit her candles, closed her eyes, and repeated familiar prayers. Prayers Luminara had taught her even before she took her as her Padawan. Back when she was just lead elder for their cultural and religious studies sessions. She slipped into a meditative state and before relinquishing her sense of self she was surprised it was so easy now that she was away from both the battlefield and the Temple. There was little of the sense of doom. There was little darkness. There was still some. Barriss knew of the recent renewed conflict in Mandalorian society, threatening to stir up another civil feud. It was mediocre compared to what she had been feeling the last few years. Since Geonosis. Since finding herself at Petranaki Arena. Maybe this really could become a sanctuary for her. Maybe she could once again know peace and contentment. Commune with the Force without fear of failure or slippage.
She returned to the here and now upon hearing the door hiss open once more.
“Wow, you’re still meditating?”
Another girl, blond and blue-eyed like Duchess Satine but with far less severe cheekbones, elbowed Soniee in the ribs.
“Don’t be rude.” She looked over a Barriss and smiled. “Hi. I’m Lagos. Please forgive my friend. We New Mandalorians are rather unacquainted with religion and its practices.”
“She’s not being rude at all. I’m rather surprised I was able to keep it up this long as well. I haven’t had the presence of mind as of late. I’m Barriss.”
“Good to meet you. I brought you dinner and some desert as a welcome gift.” She walked over and presented her with a ration bar, the kind they carried on the Tranquility for relief missions to distribute to displaced refugees, and a small chocolate bar. “I’m afraid that’s the best available.”
“It is the spirit of the bounty that matters over the substance. Thank you, Lagos. I am looking forward to getting to know you both.”
“Cool tattoos!”
“Thank you.”
The three girls unwrapped their evening meals. As meager as it was, it was not bad. If this were to be her first taste of the bitter bread of exile maybe her situation was not entirely dire.
Previously: Glee Anselm, Republic Mobile Surgical Unit 19
The medical droid used the plasma torch on its multitool arm to cut though the clone troopers’ breastplate. Barriss then stepped up to cut away his blacks with some shears. The soles of her boots tried to adhere to the floor and made wet sticky sounds. It was impossible to keep the floors free of the inevitable pools of blood when they had this many casualties coming in.
She studied the clones’ bare chest. “Massive bruising, contusions. Evidence of internal bleeding. We’ll have to open him up.”
The droid handed her a fresh scalpel. She was a few centimeters into her incision when the sound of an alarm split the air. “PROXIMITY WARNING! PROXIMITY WARNING!”
Lieutenant Clutch appeared at her side. “Commander, the Seppies are making a flanking maneuver to encircle General Fisto’s forces, we must relocate!”
“Fine. Get things started. I need to attend to my patient first.” She slapped an adhesive bandage over her incision and prepped the patient for evacuation.
Barriss felt numb. It was a survival mechanism. Ever since they arrived on Glee Anselm it was just an onslaught of casualties that needed immediate attention. Her success rate plummeted. Bodies were piling up. At least they had a good supply of donor organs to replace shrapnel lacerated livers and spleens. The clones were all universal donors for each other. When she got like this, at the end of a ten hour or more shift, she became sloppy. Her hands began to tremor. Maybe it’s for the best that they pause and reposition. Maybe she could find time to nap while they set up new prefabricated buildings further behind the front lines.
Soon Clutch was guiding her over to where the lifters were congregating. Usually, they were busy ferrying the injured inbound. Now they were their salvation away from the approaching battlefield. Some of the orderlies were loading patients who were stable enough to move. Nurses preformed triage, deciding who was too far gone and must be left behind. Her heart plumet. What a waste. All of it. There was a beach resort just a half kilometer away down the shore. This should be a happy place, relaxing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a series of deafening explosions off to her left. A series, one after another, separated by just a second.
“Mortars!”
Clutch dropped his rifle, wrapped his arms around her, dropped her to the ground. A second wave targeted their position. The lifters exploded. The buildings exploded. She felt a concussive wave passed though the ground and her body. People screamed and then were silent.
As the dust settled Barriss pushed the burly clone off herself. She removed his helmet. His eyes were vacant. No pulse. He sacrificed his life to save her own. She closed his eyelids.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Be at peace at last.”
Then she started to cough. An oily layer of smoke had overtaken them. She yanked down her hood and put on the clone’s helmet. With a slight hiss it sealed. She could breathe filtered air. She looked around and found the cause. Orange arcs of flame appearing and disappearing in the distance. The Separatists could so accurately aim their artillery that they often had lines of droid infantry immediately behind the line of fire mopping up the wounded. She watched them slowly advance. As some smoke cleared she could see a B2 stride casually to an abandoned stretcher and fire flames at the clone trooper patient. He screamed while he had air, then was silent. You couldn’t scream with singed lungs.
Barriss squatted behind the cover of the collapsed medical wing and waited for them to get closer. She reached out with the Force amplifying her senses. When the time was right she leapt out an sliced the B2 in two halves. She rushed over and stabbed a second. She began to dance. Whirling, leaping, slashing. A dance of destruction. She did not stop, despite her previous fatigue, until she reached the end of the enemy infantry force. She pulled new reserves from the Force; it guided her actions. The fatigue returned once her grim business was complete. Then it was just Barriss Offee amongst palm trees on fire. Piles of rubble that used to be buildings and vehicles. And bodies. So many mangled bodies and singed flesh.
Taking down the droids gave her no comfort. Her patients and coworkers were just as dead. She couldn’t really kill a droid. They were never alive. Besides, the droids weren’t evil. Droids don’t care about what they are doing, not with the level of sentience of which these models were capable.
That moment it occurred to Barriss that someone designed these flame throwers. Thousands of beings were involved in the crafting of these killing machines from the draft board stages to the assembly lines. People programmed their software algorithms. Sentient beings had ordered them, paid for them. Flesh and blood people had brought them to this place, had given them orders. But they were all out of reach.
Barriss craved another dance. She wanted them all dead. She wanted it to be by her hand. She wanted to slice them all to pieces for what they did. And she felt she could do it. The anger boiling up inside her would allow for it. If she only knew who they were and where they were. Bloodlust overcame her. Rage. It felt better than despair.
Her ears hurt. It took her a while to realize it was because she was letting out a horrid wail of emotional agony. The pain made her pause, and with pause came self-awareness. This war, this horrid conflict. It was unholy.
She gave herself some time to just breathe, to stand there and recover her senses. Then she found the compass on the clone helmet’s heads up display. She returned her saber to her belt and began the long walk to the nearest GAR firing base.
She startled awake. Her sheets were wound into a bulky rope entwined around her legs and the camisole she wore to sleep was damp with sweat.
The lights were already on low. She looked over to the room’s central desk and found Soinee and Lagos there, nursing mugs of caff. Lagos had her chin rested on one hand. Her were eyes half lidded. Soinee looked at her, annoyed.
“You up?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You were mumbling, tossing, and turning all night. You kept us up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
“Having bad dreams or something?”
“Yes.” Barriss got her elbows under her, she moved to dangle her legs over the side of her bunk and sit up, getting her bearings. “I apologize. Before I came here, I was a medical technician in the Grand Army of the Republic. It was… traumatic at times. I guess I’m not over it. I’ll be sure to pick up a sleep aid today so it won’t repeat.”
It was wise to obscure her background, but she felt she owed the women an explanation. Especially if she is going to spend so much time with them.
Soinee’s annoyance melted away. “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.” She looked like she wanted to say something more but was struggling to find the words.
Lagos took the initiative. “Don’t worry about it, come down and get some breakfast.”
Barriss took a long breath in and out. She felt like her feelings were a weathervane in a storm. Then she lowered herself down and went to break bread with the two who would hopefully become her new friends.