The Force with us

I don't know how many hours I spent just lying on the floor, trying to regain consciousness. But my vision partially returned, and I could see the blurred outlines of objects. The light in this room came from the large gaps in the walls, and my eyes were still too sensitive to the bright light. It was daytime outside, a cool breeze blew the smells of herbs and flowers inside. But it couldn't take the smell of abandonment and dust away from here. I had to wait until nightfall. I couldn't walk now, suffering from light sickness. And all that was left to do was wander aimlessly inside these dilapidated walls that had once been my home. How long has it been? I remember kids running around. I remember the adults strolling down these corridors. Old men walking slowly, leaning on their canes, going about their business. It was always so peaceful. And now this place doesn't resonate with me. It's like a void. It only absorbs my few emotions after this freeze. It'll be a long time before I fully recover. My vision was awfully slow to recover. And I needed to be in semi-darkness so my eyes wouldn't suffer from the light. It would soon pass and I could get out of here. How these walls are weighing on me. They no longer felt like home to me.

***

Lee woke up to the sound of the siren on Acclamator "Beast". The girl grumbled unhappily and sat up on her bunk. She heard someone running somewhere in the corridor outside the door, their screams.... It was all just a pleasant dream, a memory of those carefree times. Joel got up from her bunk and picked up her helmet, spinning it around and inspecting it from all sides. The Galaxy was being torn apart by war. The Jedi were no longer the peacemakers. And here it was, the proof. A seemingly peaceful mission to deliver humanitarian aid to a planet suffering from Separatist oppression, but it had turned into another battle. Lee tucked her long Padawan braid behind her ear and put on her helmet. As soon as she did, the door to the quarters immediately opened. Standing on the threshold was Dooku. “I see you've already packed up,” the man remarked, looking at his grown Padawan. “We were attacked. I thought I could negotiate with the Separatists, but they wouldn't listen to me.” “Then we will fight,” the girl replied and followed the older Jedi out. The clones were bustling around them. The fighter pilots had already retired to their hangars and were preparing for battle in open space. The others were preparing for a possible assault. “But we have a chance to break through with a small vessel beyond our encirclement and deliver the cargo,” Dooku remarked, turning to face Lee. “We'll trust Admiral Yularen to lead the battle. This is not our battle, Lee.” “Of course, Buir,” Joel nodded. They stepped out into one of the hangars. The Mandalorian tried to ignore the clones. She was still uncomfortable with their company. The society of meat droids with the face of a once dear to her. Two dozen LAAT gunboats were prepared to deliver the cargo. The clones were still loading crates, and judging by their numbers, the Jedi would have to fly exclusively with pilots or one clone squad to avoid using too much transport. “General, sir!” A clone in a purple-colored Katarn ran up to them. He saluted Dooku and stretched out in a string. “Cargo is loaded, we're ready to go. The pilots will be out in two minutes to cover us.” “Very good, Commander,” the Jedi Master nodded. “Take the transport with your men. We'll have to split up for a while, but hopefully we'll be able to break through the ring that way.” The clone commander nodded and ran back to the gunboats. Dooku turned back to his Padawan. Though her face couldn't be seen because of her helmet, her emotions were easily felt in the Force. “We'll fly separately, Lee,” the man said. “It will help keep the cargo safe, and increase the chances that the pilots will find the designated location with our help.” “Yes, I understand,” the girl nodded and walked toward the nearest gunboat. “May the Force be with you.“ She sighed and climbed inside. Dooku stepped into the next one and the side shields closed and the emergency lights came on. “Pilots have entered the battle,” the commander reported over the common channel to which the Jedi comlinks were connected. “We're taking off. Brace yourselves, it's going to be a little bumpy.” The engines of the gunboats roared to life as they flew out of the hangar and into the thick of the battle. The pilots maneuvered among the Vultures, fighters, wreckage, and plasma charges, trying to keep their cargo safe. Entering the atmosphere was marked by a slight shake and a sharp sensation of gravity pulling them to the floor. “I'm losing control!” shouted one of the pilots on the general communications line. Dooku listened to the Force. It appeared to be the pilot of a nearby gunboat, for his fear was easily sensed in the Force. “I've been hit!” “We're under attack!” shouted another. The gunboat shook, and the Jedi Master grabbed the rail and looked around. Looks like they've been hit too. “Sergeant, what have we got?” he asked into the comlink. “One of the engines is damaged, it's going to be a hard landing, sir!” replied the pilot. “But our chances of survival are high.” “Go down!” the Jedi commanded. It was a hard landing. The gunship shook again and hit the ground hard, plowing several dozen meters before coming to a stop, tilting dangerously on its side. Dooku barely managed to dodge one of the crates, knocked out the side shield with the Force, and jumped out. One of the engines was engulfed in flames, the cockpit glass shattered. The Jedi climbed onto the nose of the transporter and pulled the remaining airlock frame housing with his telekinesis. He leaned over to the closest pilot and saw that he had been pierced in the chest by shrapnel. The clone was already dead. But the co-pilot was still alive. “General... s-sir...” the clone coughed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I-I'm... I'm sorry.” “We survived, Sergeant, and we will be able to complete our mission. That's all that matters,” Dooku reassured him and helped him out of the gunboat. “Are you hurt?” “Just bumped my head. The helmet cushioned the impact. No need to worry.” “Then let's try to figure out exactly where we are,” the Jedi nodded and activated the comlink. After a moment of silence, his signal was picked up. “General?!” came a voice distorted by interference. Apparently, Dooku had managed to connect to the squad leader's communications channel. “Commander, we've made a hard landing and are now in the middle of nowhere. Can you trace our signal?” “Yes, sir. We'll do our best to find you. Stay where you are.” The clone's voice faded into the static. The Jedi sighed noisily, realizing that either someone was jamming the communications, or the connection on the planet wasn't the best. He turned around and looked at the gunboat. “Sergeant, I think we'd better get the cargo out of the transport. I'm afraid it might explode soon,” Dooku remarked. “Yes, sir,” the pilot nodded, trying to keep his legs straight.

***

Lee watched as the clones unloaded the gunboats. The Mandalorian stood in the shadows, leaning back against a tree. She didn't want to be in the noisy company of the locals and rebels, and she was grateful that her beskar'gam was black, making her less visible in the shadows. The girl covered her eyes, letting her thoughts turn to an uncontrollable flow, and the Force showed her the distant memories of her infancy again. Lee didn't know why she remembered herself so clearly as an infant, but all those months before the Jedi Temple had been so... peaceful and warm. The place always smelled like weapons grease. A smell that was always associated with home. The room was modestly furnished: a double bed, a dresser, and a crib. In the crib lay a baby about five months old: a girl with dark hair and brown eyes. She was looking at the mobile hanging above her when a woman in golden Mandalorian armor without a helmet entered the room and took her in her arms. “Come along, L'ika,” the girl's mother said affectionately, cradling her gently against her chest. “Someone would like to see you.” She left the bedroom and went into the small living room, which was also furnished in a very austere and modest manner. There were two men sitting on a couch, leisurely drinking Corellian whiskey and discussing something about the current cold war on Mandalore. The man in the silver armor smiled as he noticed the entrant: “Ah, cyar'ika, you're just in time. Jango,” he addressed the second man in the blue-colored beskar'gam, “you may meet your goddaughter. We named our daughter Lee.” The woman handed the child into Jango's hands and he smiled, nodded and looked at the little girl. She scrutinized the strange man and then held out her arms to him. “Yes, yes, hello, L'ika,” he smiled, feeling envious of his friends who already had a child. “You're so big already...” “She's only five months old,” the woman remarked, sitting down next to her husband. Jango chuckled. “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter, again, Hisad,” he looked at the other man. “I'm sure Lee will be a worthy successor to her clan.” “We hope so,” Hisad nodded, hugging his wife. “Thank you, Jango...” “Commander!” Lee wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes. One of the clones was approaching her. He was helmetless, and seeing his face was painful for the girl, but she was grateful that she was now wearing a helmet that hid her face. The meat droid looked worried, and in his hand he held a small holoprojector with a map. “We've been contacted by General Dooku.” “What's wrong with him?” Padawan Joel felt a strange anxiety for her teacher. “They crashed and are stranded in the forest with their cargo, no transportation,” the clone reported. “I've tracked their coordinates, we can...” The Mandalorian grabbed the holoprojector out of his hands and looked carefully at the map of the area, trying to memorize every little detail so she could easily find the crash site. She returned the map to the commander and was just about to go when the clone called out to her. “Commander! Our transport is intact and we can fly after them. It'll be faster.” “Fine,” Lee sighed and turned to face him. “Then we'll fly to Master Dooku immediately.” The soldier nodded and hurriedly used his communicator to tell the pilots to prepare the transport. As soon as a few gunboats were free, they hurriedly took off and headed towards the calculated coordinates. As soon as the transport opened its doors before it even touched the ground, the Mandalorian jumped out and rushed toward the familiar silhouette. “Master Dooku!” Lee ran up to him and looked around anxiously. “It's all right, Padawan,” the Jedi replied, then turned his attention to the clones that had arrived with her. “Transfer the cargo to the gunboats, we need to get it to the city as soon as possible.” “Sir, yes, sir!” The clones saluted and began to carry out their orders. The pilot was also taken to the gunship and checked for any other damage. Both Jedi were watching the fussing clones when Dooku suddenly felt something strange in the Force. His eyes went dark for a moment and a blurry image of some ruins appeared in his mind. Lee looked at her master with horror: he was bent over, clutching his heart and opening his mouth soundlessly. The girl tried to hold him down so he wouldn't fall, but the Jedi sank to his knees without regaining consciousness. “Medic! Now!” She shouted at the soldiers, and the squad leader immediately flew over to them and tried to lift the man, but the Mandalorian pushed his hands away. “You better find something to help him!” she growled. “I'm not sure I have the right stuff,” the clone snapped back, but his behavior was ignored. “Help him lie down,” Lee commanded. The two of them managed to lower Master Dooku onto his back, still breathing heavily but with his eyes closed and clearly trying to regain consciousness. The Padawan's heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She was worried about her master, afraid of losing him. Involuntarily, the memory of the battle on Geanosis made her shudder, remembering the severed head in the Mandalorian helmet rolling across the orange sand. After a few agonizing minutes, he did open his eyes, his breathing becoming calm again. The man wrinkled his nose and tried to sit up gingerly on the ground. “Master, how are you feeling?” Lee asked worriedly. Dooku wrinkled his nose and rubbed his chest on the side of his heart. “I'm fine, Padawan...” he whispered, trying to even out his breathing. The strange vision kept him awake. At some point, the world before the Jedi's eyes faded and he saw through someone else's eyes an abandoned... Temple. The stranger, barely overcoming his weakness, tried to rise to his feet, looking around at the obviously familiar walls that had now turned to ruins. “We need to get the cargo into the city. Let's hurry.” He was helped to his feet, and they made their way to the gunboats that had already been loaded with cargo. The wounded pilot had been checked over by a medic and now all he had to do was wait for them to get back to the acclamator.

***

When the cargo was delivered to the affected inhabitants, the Jedi and clones hurried back to "Beast". The battle in space was over, at the cost of losing dozens of clone pilot lives, but the acclamator remained intact and the cargo was delivered. And until they returned to Coruscant, the surviving soldiers couldn't mourn their slain brothers. The engines were heating up in preparation for the hyper jump, Admiral Yularen was giving orders, and the Jedi, having reported the successful completion of the mission, were now temporarily free. Lee, not wanting to cross paths with the clones, retired to her quarters. Dooku remained on the bridge of the acclamator, watching the preparations for the hyperjump take place, but his thoughts were otherwise occupied. The Jedi's gaze paused on the black expanse of space, the bluish and barely discernible hemisphere of the planet's atmosphere. Alas, what he saw was not some simple vision. For a moment he felt as if some sort of connection had been formed between him and the unknown. Lee whether it was true or not, he didn't know yet. And was that stranger alive, or was it a vision of the past or a possible future...? Perhaps Sifo-Dyas could have easily found the answer to this question, or consulted Jocasta and together they would have helped their friend, as in the good old days. Unfortunately, Sifo-Dyas had been dead for a long ten years....