Jedi Insurgency 149 (Interlude 21)

The command room aboard the experimental Umbra class super carrier Cold Nova was bathed in the tumultuous emotions of the Darkside. At the central table, a holoprojector flickered with the afterimages of a failure Sev’rance Tann had replayed far too many times. Her blue skin was drawn taut with barely restrained fury, as she rewound the footage from last week's duel. 

Crimson eyes narrowed as they beheld the object of her ire. 

Ahsoka Tano.

She had underestimated the Togruta female. A teenaged Padawan who fought with reckless abandon, and great improvisation, Ahsoka was more than Tann had bargained for. At first, she had controlled the fight with clean thrusts, and hidden flourishes as her Master, Dooku had instructed. Yet despite her immense technical skill, the brat appeared familiar with Form II, more so than any child her age should be! 

Tano had slipped through her meticulously laid net, turning the engagement into a chaotic melee of close-quarters combat and impossible speed that had left Tann flustered, and feeling inadequate. 

Sev’rance Tann exhaled slowly, each breath was carefully measured, so as not to betray her true feelings to outsiders-a product of her elite Chiss training-and yet, this learned practice did nothing to diminish the seething spite that gripped her psyche. 

“Unacceptable. Every vector was accounted for. Every contingency plan had been prepared. And yet that infuriating little Togruta managed to dismantle my formation like a street scavenger toying with scrap.” Tann's voice came out smooth like butter, the likes of which would drive a man mad, but if one actually paid attention, her words were poisonous. 

Behind her, the angular silhouette of Super Tactical Droid ST-661 shifted slightly, his metal limbs clanked as he readjusted the footage so that it was at Tann's most embarrassing retreat.

“Correction, Commander.” ST-661 intoned dryly. “The Padawan dismantled your formation with the efficiency of a seasoned general. The scavenger comparison may be more fitting if it were comparing the bumbling Gungan victory to that of the Trade Fede-”

“Silence.” Tann snapped, spinning on him with an open palm full of crackling electricity. Her black hair swept dramatically across her shoulders due to the action. “Do not elevate her with compliments. She is beneath strategic theory. Beneath doctrine. Beneath logic. Ahsoka merely adapted to the chaos of the invasion. Due to this spar, it is I who will be familiar with her fighting style. Her advantage gained due to my long imprisonment shall be nulled and voided when next we meet.”

“Curious. She appears to be beyond logic, according to you. And yet, watching her moves, they were executed flawlessly. Her objective was escape, not execution. Ahsoka achieved this result admirably. One might even say perfectly.” ST-661 tapped on a screen, and they both watched a scene of Ahsoka leaving after collapsing a building on top of Tann. 

A twitch rippled through Tann’s jaw, and she barely withheld a scowl. 

“I anticipate perfection from my forces, droid. Not humiliating defeat at the hands of a Jedi apprentice. Where were your troops when I fought the enemy?”

“Reckless improvisation achieved a seventy-eight percent tactical success rate in this engagement. Would you prefer we implement it, Commander? I can simulate emotional outbursts if that is now doctrine.”

Her eyes narrowed, and instead of becoming flustered by the cutting words, the Darkside cloaked her form, and murderous intent surrounded her like a cloak.

“Be careful, ST-661. I tolerate your presence for your processing power, not your personality.”

“I am honored. My humor subroutine will cherish your feedback for the remaining eight-point-two seconds before I choose to ignore it.”

Tann’s fingers dug into the edge of the command console, and she leaned forward, staring into the bot's yellow photoreceptors. She dearly wished to snap this unit's subprocessors into tiny bits and pieces. But help was so difficult to find these days. 

‘Revan. What. Did. You do! Why did you reprogram the Super Tactical Droid with such affronting behavior?!’ Sev’rance could restrain herself no longer, and gnashed her teeth. 

As if aware that he was skating on thin ice, ST-661 was quick to reply. 

“Based upon the database compiled by central command, Padawan Tano has a record of 5 wins, and 5 losses. Updated now to 6-5. Congratulations, Grand General, one more victory, and you shall return her stats to a 50% winrate.” 

“...say something useful, droid, lest you wind up as scrap.” Tann muttered dangerously. 

“The photo-op was a success. Your image has spread across the galaxy, your name, and appearance are trending at #2 on the HoloNet right now. Dantooine's representatives, convinced by your prowess, have agreed to supply food for credits.” 

“Good, I hate negotiating with those bureaucratic vermin. We took the planet in a day, but negotiating the peace has taken over a week. What a headache.” Tann rubbed her temples, and sighed. “Wait. Who is trending #1?” 

“Padmé Amidala. Apparently, she has survived.” ST-661 replied in an average, monotone, robotic voice. He then readjusted the holoprojector, and a risqué image of Padmé appeared. 

“The Senator of Naboo? My brief mentioned her death was the catalyst for Skywalker's betrayal. What is the meaning of this?” Tann crossed her arms, and glared at ST-661. 

If the CIS had been sharing faulty information with her, then she would have to reevaluate how she conducted the war moving forward. Perhaps a few purges were in order. 

“Precisely. However, her return is speculated to be related to Revan.” 

“Revan?! What does he have to do with her?!” Tann pointed a well-manicured fingernail at the scantily clad Senator, and spoke in a low, murderous tone. 

Earlier in the week, Revan had roughly touched upon their bond, and drew power from her for some desperate fight. When he had drank from her well, Tann had felt something she had never experienced before, and felt both powerless, as well as invigorated. No man had ever gazed upon her with such hunger or enthusiasm before. This Force Bond, it made putting up walls between one another nearly impossible! She knew about his loneliness, his worries, his burdens. Every day, they communicated for a minute here and there, sharing their feelings, and the thrill of conquest. To help him in this only felt right! 

But if he was doing this all for another woman?!?! 

Glaring at the image above the holotable, Tann clenched her teeth. 

If that wretch sank her claws into her ma…into her Revan, then she would…

“Yes, the Holonet is abuzz with rumors, but they have yet to be substantiated. Worry not, Grand General, the likelihood of a fling between the two is less than one in four.” ST-661 comforted. 

Tann raised an eyebrow at the droid, wondering if Revan knew how much ST-661 vexed her. 

“You presume I was thinking irrationally?”

“I presume you were thinking beautifully, Commander. The problem is that the galaxy insists on surviving your genius.”

A moment of silence followed as Tann composed her thoughts, then a thin, razor-edged smile curled across her face. 

“Do not mistake my irritation for instability.” Sev’rance Tann spoke softly. “This loss in fame is merely a setback. When next we conquer a planet, then we shall see who occupies the number one spot in his hear-ahem, the number one spot on the holonet.” Tann was quick to amend her statement, and hide her embarrassment with another withering glare. 

“Ah. Revenge scenario beta-1 has been initiated. Allow me to prepare subroutines labeled: Glorious Overkill and Dramatic Superiority for your next debut.”

Tann glanced back at the tactical display, where a still-frame showed the young Senator giving some crap speech about peace that any ordinary Jedi would slurp up. 

Her eyes gleamed with danger as she calculated the political fallout of assassinating this potential rival. 

ST-661’s photoreceptors dimmed slightly in what passed for amusement.

“Shall I schedule your next emotional spiral in advance, Commander?”

“Out.” Tann cooly responded. 

Once the droid had left the command room, Tann slumped into a nearby chair. 

Taking out an amulet-which housed a tiny holocron-that she had found on Onderon, she held it at eye-level, and sighed. 

“Have you come to a decision, child?” A voice rang from within. 

Tann barely withheld a pout. Revan was growing stronger, and the Sith were on the rise. She sensed numerous luminous beings in the galaxy, whilst she had only escaped from prison 5 months ago after spending 5 years in solitary confinement. Her imprisonment allowed only 10 minutes of movement out of her bonds, severely withering her physical capabilities. 

Rusty after years of neglect, her once stellar performance had all but disappeared. Tann had gone from Dooku's most promising student to a husk of her former self. 

The final straw was losing to a Padawan. 

Taking a deep breath, she reached out to the echo of the once mighty spirit within the medallion. 

“Very well, I recognize you as my Master, Freedon Nadd.” 

“Very good, child. This Rule of Two has been an eyesore for a millenia. Under my guidance, you shall be no lesser than Exar Kun, I promise you that.” The remnant of Freedon Nadd whispered in her ear. 

Tann shivered. She had heard tales of ancient Sith ghosts, of possessions. But if she was to keep up with Revan, there was nothing she was unwilling to do. 

Taking a deep breath once more, she felt an unease deep in the pit of her stomach. That something lethal could sever the bond she held most dear. Palming her communicator, Tann was quick to place an order: 

“ST-661, set course for Nar Shaddaa.”

“But General, that is Hutt space. Such a maneuver would compromise our recent gains!” 

“Leave the battlegroup behind, the Cold Nova will be enough.” Tann hissed. 

“...yes, General!” ST-661 replied. 

“Ah, love. It will get you killed one day.” Nadd muttered. 

Tann closed her eyes, and ignored the ghost's idle chatter. 

“Make me stronger. No matter the price I bear, it won't be enough.” 

Nadd stared down at his newest apprentice with a cruel grin. The phantom then flew into her mindspace, causing the blue-skinned Chiss to double over in pain. A shriek left her lips, and when Nadd was about to leave, Tann grit her teeth, and sat upright into a meditative posture. 

“Con. tin. ue.” 

Nadd's laughter echoed in her mind, and then her thoughts were like putty as the secrets of the Darkside were forcefully imprinted into the very fiber of her being. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep within the broken halls of the ancient halls of the Jedi Temple on Dantooine, Ahsoka Tano moved through the burnt out remains of this once hallowed ground with reverence. Her boots disturbing dust that had not known living breath in centuries, she followed a feeling. Every step deeper into the ruin tugged at the invisible thread inside her, the Force was guiding her towards something, she just didn't know what. 

She had escaped Sev’rance Tann’s snare with some luck, and a few reckless maneuvers that almost got her killed. Having fought Dooku a handful of times, and having studied his fighting style, she was well prepared against Tann's Form II stance. Leaving Rex at the entrance, she was now in search of answers. Hopefully, she would learn more about Order 66, Anakin, and what had really happened that day five months ago. 

The Force pulled her toward a half-collapsed corridor veiled in shadow. Beneath fallen stone and creeping vines, a circular doorway yawned open, revealing a meditation chamber. 

She stepped inside, and felt herself become infused with an aura of peace. 

The air was still, heavy with calm so profound, it almost hurt. A single stone dais waited at the room’s center, faintly illuminated by pale light filtering through cracks in the ceiling. Ahsoka was memorized by the dais, and walked towards it as if she were hypnotized. Drawing near, she recognized that this was a sun dial meant for keeping time. Furrowing her brow, she thought it strange that such an object would be inside a Temple, in a room with no windows. But such thoughts were fleeting, as the light coming in through the broken ceiling reflected of the dial, and into her eyes. 

The clock ticked, her breathing slowed, and the world dissolved like rainbow colored paper mache breaking apart in a bowl of water. 

Darkness swallowed her senses, then ignited into blinding white.

She stood somewhere that was not Dantooine, cold durasteel met her bare feet, and a thick ozone burnt her lungs. Before her, a familiar figure writhed in agony. Blue arcs of savage lightning crashed into him again and again.

It was Anakin.

His face contorted with pain. Reaching forward as if he could see her, he called out her name. 

“Ahsoka! Help me!” 

Behind him loomed a shadow, dark and menacing. Lightning emerged from this concealed figure, and a blue lightsaber stabbed downward, cutting off one of Anakin's legs. 

“No!” She shouted, and tried to grab Anakin's hand, only for it to pass through. 

The shadow mocked her powerlessness with a deep, menacing chuckle. 

The vision shattered, and blackness surged around her like a tidal wave, reforming into another vision. 

Two masks floated in a void of crimson stars.

One was black, cold, and just looking at it filled her lungs with asthmatic pain. Her breathing seized, and she felt her spirit gasping for air. 

The other mask gave off an ancient feeling, as if the weight of the universe, and the pressure of survival bore down on her back. 

‘Vader & Revan.’ Ahsoka thought, recognizing the masks due to her recent perusing of the holonet. 

They hovered, silent, orbiting one another as unseen forces dragged them closer, until they collided.

A flash of fractured light and shadow exploded outward, ripping through the void like the birth of a star, and in that violent collision Ahsoka felt the terror of prophecy. 

Snapping her eyes open, she gasped, and found herself in a deep underground vault. All was invisible, save for a pair of floating white bars of light. 

Clinging to the smooth walls of the passage to help her stand, Ahsoka tremblingly made her way up a steep flight of steps, and stopped before the lights. 

‘Order.’ One light said. 

‘Judgement.’ The other declared. 

Floating around her, the lights entered her palms, warm to the touch, and a bright flash blinded her to the world. 

Her eyes flew open a second time, as she jolted upright on the cold stone of the meditation chamber. Her lekku trembled, her breath was ragged, and her heart hammered violently against her chest.

The chamber was pitch black dark, and the sun dial had vanished. Yet the visions she had undergone clung to her psyche like a Loth-cat that had sunken its claws into someone trying not to drown in the middle of the ocean. 

Anakin’s scream echoed in her mind. The shadow’s cruel delight haunted her nightmares. The masks, and their collision had her fear for the fate of the galaxy. What did it all mean? 

She stared down at her hands, and found herself unknowingly gripping her lightsabers. 

“What happened to you, Skyguy…” She whispered into the empty chamber, voice trembling with dread and grief. “What did they turn you into?”

The Force answered by igniting her blades. An action that was not of her own will or volition. 

Twin jets of white illuminated the chamber, and bathed her in a sharp glow that stung one's eyes. 

‘Order.’

‘Judgement.’ 

The kyber crystals spoke to her. 

Ahsoka felt her connection to the Force deepen, and yet, she had never felt more lost than at any point in her life. 

“Master…come home.” She whispered, and hugged her shins so that her chin rested on her knees. 

Ahsoka. 

A phantom whisper passed her ears, and she looked up hopefully, only to see the same dark temple walls. 

Letting out a sigh, she wiped a tear away, and then stood tall. 

Anakin could still be saved…he had to be. 

~~~~~~~~

AN: Last Interlude for a good while.