KYBER-PUNK 22BBY Ch.13 (Patreon)

— Master Fay —

Her mission was true and just, ordained by the Force itself. It was a calling more than any chore. It was fate. Destiny. The Will of the Force. Master Fay had always looked to the Force for purpose. And always, it showed her the way. The path was lit. It was her duty to walk it to the end.

That lit path had brought her here. To a wretched hive of a shadow port. Nar Shaddaa was not an easy place for Fay to be. Billions of souls. Fay felt their pain, their pleas, and their pitiful pleasures. So much suffering, so much struggle, and not nearly enough stability for her heart. While Light shone through in places, the Force about the moon was mostly a muddy, brackish, dismal gray.

The last time she’d visited Nar Shaddaa had been decades ago. She tried to avoid this portion of Hutt Space as much as she could. Even striving to bring peace wherever she walked, there was only so much she alone could affect. And now, there was even more turmoil here than she’d expected.

Fay listened in on the whispering winds of the Force. They spoke of stories to her — so many stories… The losses of a hundred thousand mothers. The dreams of the enslaved masses. The realities of crushing poverty. The profit to be had at any expense. If they could sense all that Fay could, the inescapable truths of Nar Shaddaa — resonating as they did in the Force — would’ve crushed any other Jedi.

Yet, Fay tempered the worst of the whispers with her will, her Light. A subtle thing, her presence stretched throughout the Force about the Smuggler’s Moon. Though they would never realize it, Fay took portions of the many burdens onto herself. She was an unseen shoulder. A support propping up the world. That it was all she could do stung, but Fay soldiered on all the same.

The Force knew her contribution as it knew everything else. It knew her. It knew she would listen to its turmoil. So, it shared the troubles placed above Nar Shaddaa’s usual, miserable baseline. It showed her what had already come to pass, aiding Fay in her calling just as she aided the people at the heart of Hutt Space.

A million unborn souls. Insectile but sentient all the same. They’d been torn from their nests, trapped within in-born shards of the Force itself. They would never draw breath now. Yet… that was only the beginning of their suffering. For they weren’t just trapped and aborted; they were crushed and processed into something unholy and utterly wrong.

Merged against their wills — against the Will of the Force itself — the poor, unfortunate souls of larva, of mere babes, found themselves hungering. The process was unnatural. The results were unconscionable. They couldn’t do anything but infest the local Force like so many unwilling pests. And the only medium to sate their million fits of hunger… was the Force.

It was a Force Haunting of a scale Fay had never seen. Everywhere she looked, holes ached like miniature wounds in the Force. Holes eaten to nothingness by things that should’ve never been. Dark or Light, it mattered not. The unborn souls hungered. And they were driven to become nothing more than pests, gnawing away at the Force.

Pain, not of any individual sapient being but of the Force as a whole. It was horrifying and overwhelming to someone of Fay’s sensitivity. She saw and felt so much more than any other, yet that only made the effect on her that much worse.

For once, she found herself unable to come to the Force’s aid. Unable to help, for the poor pests had become something novel and unimaginable. Processed beyond recognition, she couldn’t soothe their troubles with her Light, couldn’t put their million souls to rest. Their hunger was almost a whole new beast unto itself. And the holes they’d eaten away were not so easily healed.

Was it any wonder the local Force had rallied around a champion…? Any wonder that it called her here for him? The man — as significant as an Atom… — was perfectly positioned to act. And in that, he didn’t let the Force down. He’d done what he could against the pestilence. It… helped, to a degree, and Fay could feel the Force’s gratitude swirling around him.

His efforts had done much to prevent the problem from growing immediately worse. The initial driving force had been excised like a tumor from the Force, Fay saw. But even then, it was too late to completely stop the cancer from spreading. The smallest remnants were beginning to flare back up. Soon, it would return with a vengeance, stronger and more dispersed than before.

The champion had held the Force’s interest at first, for he was something new and fascinating to both sides. Then, he held its favor, having acted against its pestilence. With that favor came the prophecy Fay had heard. The champion was not simply meant for one thing and nothing else.

The breaking of chains had been witnessed. Like few things Fay had seen, Light and Dark encouraged it. Freedom was an important aspect of the Force, of both its aspects. ‘Freedom from’ for the Light, and ‘Freedom to’ for the Dark. Different perspectives on the matter, yet still, above all… freedom. The Force rallied as momentum behind its local champion, chosen for one burden and destined for so much more.

And now, as the Force’s Oracle, Fay entered the picture developing around Nar Shaddaa and its champion. The call of fate was loud here. The weight of events was heavy. Unprecedented changes were taking place. Fay came to guide them along, to follow the Breaker of Chains, and to resist an unholy pestilence at its source.

“Now announcing Master Fay, Wandering Emissary of the Force! Master Fay, the Force’s Oracle, Prophet of the Whole, comes to meet the Breaker of Chains!”

The security around the Force’s local champion was like nothing to an oracle of Fay’s skill, sensitivity, and experience. She didn’t hold that against the Breaker of Chains. Determined as she was, the whole Jedi Order couldn’t have stopped Fay.

Her timing was fortuitous. Eventful. The Force brought two of her younger peers before her chosen as well. Fay didn’t recognize them. But then, she hadn’t been back to the Temple to recognize a generation of Jedi in more than a century. They recognized her. From tall tales that they’d never believed before now, Fay had to imagine.

In truth, young Aayla and Quinlan held very little of Fay’s current attention. The subject of her prophecy was in front of her. Now, she was seeing him, truly seeing him. In the Force more than the physical.

There was an indescribable spark at the center of his being. That ‘something new, something fascinating’… It was both all of his presence and none of it. For the rest, she found a young man. So, so young… Determined and driven. Spiteful. Righteous in some ways, very much not in others. Pessimistic optimism: if the galaxy wouldn’t be better on its own, he would make it so himself.

And more than anything, throughout all of him… a certain fragility existed. He was much more fragile than he seemed. Fay’s heart ached to see it, feel it, for herself. Buried deep, Fay could feel frayed ends to Atom’s being where attachments had been harshly and abruptly severed. He’d built himself up admirably, but his foundations were fundamentally broken and slow to heal.

Fay’s determination firmed upon feeling him in the Force. The Breaker of Chains needed her guidance. He needed support and stability. He needed a shining beacon to illuminate his path, whatever way he chose to walk. Fay could offer him that. She could offer him much. Surely, he would accept…

“Right, who actually are you?” Atom asked her pointedly.

The question pulled her away from her ruminations in the Force and back to a grounding in the physical world. In the flesh, she could see his appeal as well. Youthful, strong, and grim. Though she typically held herself above such worldly concerns, Fay wasn’t celibate. At least… not voluntarily…

She didn’t let the slight blush at how utterly hopeless she was at romantic endeavors show on her face, simply answering Atom’s question with a bowing nod of her head.

“I am Master Fay. For the better part of a millennium, I’ve wandered the galaxy, lending aid everywhere I can. An ever-loyal, ever-diligent, ever-humble Emissary of the Force itself.”

“But not of the Jedi Order,” Atom noted aloud.

“I am and I am not,” Fay demurred. “The ways I walk are parallel to the way of the Order. Distinct but never wholly different. In its current state, I cannot honestly say I am a member of the Order. There are some aspects I fundamentally disagree with. But I have always been and will always be a Jedi.”

“You disagree with the Order…? On what?” Young Aayla asked, practically breathless with her awe and looking as adorable as any youngling in Fay’s eyes.

“Several things, my sister in the Force,” Fay sighed. “Most of all, that dreadful Reformation business that came about when I was still just a Knight.”

“Reformation…?” Young Quinlan’s tone was kept expertly blank. “As in. The Ruusan Reformation. Of almost a thousand years ago.”

One of Atom’s council — the small, pale woman who felt oh-so-alive in the Force — let out an impressed whistle, “Shiii~iit, choom~! You’re lookin’ good as fuck for a thousand! All goth-y and GILF-y and thicc, DAMN! I’d rock your fraggin’ world, granny~!”

Fay chortled to hide the blush that tried to reach up onto her cheeks. Oh, she really was hopeless with even the slightest hints of romance… “Oh my, thank you. The Force keeps me young.”

Feeling the necessity, Fay began to work on divining names from the Force. Just the lightest of touches. Becca — the lively diminutive woman who’d propositioned Fay — and all of the others at Atom’s side. In doing so, she felt out the relationships between all of them and her focus: the Breaker of Chains. Oh my… that was certainly a growing web of passion around him… Yet again, a blush threatened Fay’s cheeks. Atom clearly wasn’t even half as romantically stunted as her…

Young Aayla looked torn between agreeing with the other outspoken woman and taking offense on Fay’s behalf, “That-! I-! Do you even-?! You can’t just-! I mean… It’s true… But-!”

Quinlan sighed, placing a gentle telekinetic hand over his companion’s mouth. He seemed well used to the action, “It’s an honor to meet you, Master Fay. To know for ourselves that you’re real. Legends are told of you in the Temple. But I can’t say I ever believed in them very much.”

“I imagine the little green menace is keeping my memory alive in some way. He’s likely the origin of many of those legends,” Fay said, her lips quirking up slightly in amusement.

Quinlan stilled, “Little… green… menace…?”

“Yoda,” Atom interrupted, scowling. “She means Yoda. That little gremlin needs to learn to keep his Forcing fingers to himself.”

“You’ve met him. Not in person, but in the Force,” Fay stated more than asked. “Yes, I should’ve expected as much. Let it never be said the little menace isn’t powerful, sensitive, and lacking some boundaries that the rest of us take for granted…”

“That’s the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order you’re talking about,” Quinlan chided slightly.

“From what I remember of him? ‘Gremlin’ is an accurate descriptor,” Fay said.

“Goblin,” Atom suggested in perfect, seamless rhythm as if they were both playing to a series of rehearsed comedic beats.

Fay nodded, “Yes, that too. I’m likely one of two Jedi who remember him as the Tiny Disaster of Dragon Clan. He used to follow me around like a duckling, you know? 30 centimeters of pure mischief, following a young Jedi Knight everywhere she went.”

“And now, he’s old and crotchety, and spends his time hitting us youngins on the nose with rolled-up newspapers after poking us in the fucking brain and expecting no response…” Atom grumbled.

“Oh, dear,” Fay worried. “Would you like me to take my eternal acolyte to task for that, O’ Breaker of Chains?”

“No,” Atom chopped out, glancing away. “… Maybe. Let him do it again and we’ll see what happens.”

The Jedi Knights were staring at them, just about gaping. In the Force, they were dumbfounded. Fay couldn’t help her amusement. It’d been much too long since she had easy-going fun like this.

“This…” Aayla slowly began. “Is surreal…”

The massive dark-skinned man on Atom’s council sat back with his arms over two women, though Fay could feel the deceptive readiness in his form. He — Maine — snorted with humor, “Imagine how we feel, Twintails.”

A young man Atom’s age — feeling so much like the concept of speed — laughed as well. David shook his head, “Yeah, just front-row seats to a show the galaxy never sees: Jedi being real people… Wild, choom. Just wild.”

“… I like them,” A yellow-skinned and rather adorable Twi’lek woman said softly yet firmly. De’vi was a beautiful bright spot in the world, not from being sheltered, but through sheer strength of resolve.

The old Weequay spacer — Linth — shrugged, “De’vi likes ‘em. And that’s more than good enough for me. Three Jedi appeared at the perfect time. They might be just what we need.”

“Don’t forget my role~. After all, what are the odds, my lord~?” The Falleen woman who’d led in young Aayla and Quinlan — Suunri — tittered. “Three Jedi, not just two. Why, I impress even myself sometimes~.”

“You didn’t bring me Master Fay,” Atom deadpanned. “By the sound of things, she brought me herself.”

“That is only somewhat accurate,” Yet Fay still nodded. “As with all things, I followed the Force. A calling brought me to you, Breaker of Chains. A calling and a prophecy.”

In the Force and real-time, Fay watched several reactions to her words. Some piqued with interest, Aayla, David, and Sasha — the woman so tied to Atom — most prominently among them. Yet Atom — Fay’s focus — closed himself off in an instant. It almost hurt Fay to have the easy chemistry they seemed to share cut through so abruptly. Yet… she couldn’t see where she might’ve gone wrong…

“B-Breaker of Chains…? Atom?” Gently, she tried to reach back out to him.

A glare from him brought her up short, “Fuck prophecy.”

Fay… Fay couldn’t understand. To have her calling denied so vehemently, it was unthinkable. Did… Did he not hear the same calling she did? Surely, he must, for he was at the center of it. Yet, at the merest mention of prophecy, Atom refused. And Fay found herself without words.

“Hey…” Aayla frowned, trying to mediate. “Isn’t that sort of hasty?”

“Perhaps,” Quinlan shook his head, admitting. “But I perfectly understand and sympathize with the sentiment. Prophecy is…”

“Fucking terrifying,” Atom finished for him.

The pastel-colored woman on Atom’s council — Lucy — glanced at him out of the side of her eyes, “Really? You’re scared of a few flowery words, Atom?”

Atom nodded without shame, “It’s a poem that determines your fucking future. No, more than that. It fucking chains you to something that hasn’t yet happened and takes away any control you think you have over your life, whether you realize it or not. Fuck. Prophecy.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. Enlightenment struck Fay’s mind. Oh, how tragic… How ironic. The Breaker of Chains chained by prophecy. She’d almost made a monumental mistake. Of course, he would despise such chains. Of course, he would refuse her. Even the Force would if she’d told him her prophecy and chained him without even realizing it for herself.

An intangible gong struck in the Force, and Fay felt a test pass. One she’d nearly stumbled right into failing. Fay could know her prophecy with no issue, but then, she wasn’t the subject of it. To force it upon Atom would be to chain him with it. Twice over, because unavoidably, her retelling would be tinted by her personal perspective. It was a prophecy that could never be heard by its prophesized subject, for doing so would defeat the entire purpose of both him and it.

Fay marveled at the Will of the Force now that it was revealed to her. Only partially. Always partially. But still enough for her to see and reaffirm her faith. She could still guide him as her calling necessitated. But she could do so without chaining him and forcing her own interpretation of things onto him. She could do so without ruining the Breaker of Chains with chains of her own creation.

“I see…” Fay breathed. “Oh, I see… My apologies, Breaker of Cha-… Atom. I shall burden you no more with prophecy. No more than I already have. Still, I have a calling here that I feel must be answered…”

“Just pick up the comm, then,” Atom sniped, some of that easy chemistry returning as his clamped control loosened.

Fay giggled. Honestly giggled, “If only it were that simple~. No, I would stay and offer my services. Answer my calling that way. If you would have me, of course.”

“Oh, he’d have ya… over and over and over again with those curves~…” Sasha muttered. Mostly to herself, it seemed. Fay still caught it and quickly glanced away, drawing on the Force to not fluster.

Atom… Atom simply stared at her. Watching, examining, piercing Fay to her very core. Fay kept her faith, leaving herself an open book in the Force for him to read. She felt every page turned, every good intention she had parsed through and judged. Eventually, Atom spoke, and Fay felt a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding leave her lungs.

“What do you have to offer?”

Young, dear Aayla sputtered at the slight disrespect, but Fay only nodded, “Oh, much, indeed. I can be an advisor. A valued guide for you and yours. A font of experience, knowledge, and power to work with you, never against you.

“Your aims and goals, Atom, they are… something special. I would see them realized in any way I can. These are tumultuous times. Times of shift and change. You drive much of that coming change, you must know. Yet, I believe I can share in your vision. Nar Shaddaa — your home — yearns for such change. Yearns for a brighter tomorrow. I will help you bring about that tomorrow.”

Fay felt interest in her pitch. Those closest to Atom wouldn’t refuse her offer, wouldn’t protest her presence amongst them. There were many advantages to having a Jedi of Living Legend onside. But ultimately, the decision rested with Atom alone. Even if she’d recovered and aborted the worst before it could happen, her talk of prophecy offended Atom on principle. Would her unconditional support and guidance be enough…?

“… You do realize we’re at war, right?” Atom asked, more tested and probed. “Shouldn’t that offend your Jedi sensibilities? Shouldn’t it go against the peace you strive for? Will you make yourself a part of the death that war brings? You might just lose some of yourself in the process…”

“I strive for peace, yes,” Fay pulled herself up straighter. She looked Atom dead in the eyes to show her conviction. “I desire stability, yes. I yearn for nothing more than harmony for all, yes. But I have wandered this dark galaxy for longer than you can easily comprehend. Just as I know the Force is always with me, I know that change for the better will never come without cost.”

“So, yes…” Fay finished strong. “For freedom, I would make myself a party to death. For the people of this galaxy, each a portion of the Force’s whole, I would go to war. For the sake of the downtrodden and the oppressed, I will darken my soul. For, I know my Light shall always shine brighter, I know you’ve sparked embers of hope that cannot go unfanned, and I know that any cost I might pay is well worth freedom for untold billions, trillions, of souls.”

The others in the room were watching her, enthralled by her resolute words. She could feel the Knights beside her, their awe growing as she lived up to whatever legends they’d been told of her. She could feel young De’vi crying tears of hope and joy. She could feel respect rising from the rest as she proved that the Jedi could be more than distant figures in the Core who deemed the struggles in their corner of the galaxy unimportant. Yet, Fay only had eyes for Atom, holding his gaze without a single flinch or twitch.

He weighed her, and Fay didn’t come up wanting. Slowly, he nodded, “I see.”

Lucy snorted almost disrespectfully, “Fuck ‘seeing’, I felt that shit in my bones.”

“Trust me,” Atom deadpanned. “I did, too. She’s, like, serious-serious. I can’t think of a reason to turn you away, Master Fay. Don’t think I’d want to, even if I could. You wanna answer your calling…? I think you just might’ve come to the right fucking place…”

Fay bowed slightly, “Of that, there was never a doubt in my mind.”

“Shit~! Bring your fine granny ass over here, Jedi-choom~!” Becca chimed and grinned.

Linth smirked, “Methinks you’ve won yourself a few fans here with that conviction of yours, Jedi.”

Gliding across the floor, Fay repositioned herself to show her declared allegiance. She didn’t step onto the throne. That would be too much for a mere faithful guide. An overstep she didn’t make, even with Linth and Becca’s words and the teary-eyed, inspired, encouraging, double thumbs-up from sweet De’vi.

She settled into the flow of Atom’s war council as if she was always meant to be there. With the Force, she knew that to be true. Her calling was here, as a guiding Light and advocate for the Breaker of Chains and his chain-breaking efforts. But suddenly, she found herself looking across at young Aayla and Quinlan instead of standing beside them… just as the focus of the room turned on them in full.

“Now… you two…” Atom said leadingly, subtly menacing. “You came separately from Fay. So… what’s your deal? What does the actual Jedi Order want with us?”

The tension in the room began to rise again at the reminder that the Order had indeed turned their sights on the players of Nar Shaddaa. Or so it seemed… Yet even under the increased attention, Quinlan simply sighed.

“Sure… Of course… We just have to follow up… that. No huge pressure or anything…”

“We are members of the Order. More so than Master Fay,” Aayla hurriedly explained. “But we’re not here at the High Council’s behest. Like Master Fay, we felt the need to be here in the Force. We came of our own volition, not on any orders.”

“But you’re going to report anything you learn here back to your master in the Core,” Atom stated flatly.

“If I may, Atom…?” Fay spoke up, offering her first piece of advice in his service. “You should not hold that fact against them. The Council will learn of what’s happening here, whether these blameless young Knights report back or not. It’s inevitable. The turmoil in the Force is… rather obvious. I wouldn’t be surprised if other Jedi were already en route. The spread of information shouldn’t color your interactions with Knights Aayla and Quinlan.”

“Fucking. Wonderful…” Atom scowled. “That’s exactly what I was hoping to avoid by stomping that shit out early.”

“You did well to stem the immediate bleeding,” Fay reassured. “But the wound had already been created. And now, the pestilence… persists…”

“That sounds like what called us here,” Quinlan noted. “What is this wound? This… pestilence?”

“Kyber. Fucking. Spice,” Atom spat.

Fay felt the damnation in his words and tone. And as they registered with the Knights, she felt the recoiling disgust and sheer, dumbfounded disbelief. Even Fay wasn’t immune. She’d seen more than the Knights could’ve hoped to see beforehand. But having a name to put to the pestilence… made her physically shudder. Truly, it was a most cursed thing, this kyber-spice.

After a stunned moment of reaction, Quinlan swore in a way that would’ve had most Masters chastising their Padawans, “… Oh, mopak-burnin’, kriff-karking, Hutt-spitting, SITH ME!

“What the actual. Frelling. Sith…?” Aayla joined him a moment later, her jaw dropping open.

“Hutt-spitting is appropriate,” Atom grunted. “Considering a now-dead Hutt spit the bullshit out.”

“Unfortunately,” The pleasantly green Sakiyan woman standing to the right of Atom’s throne, mirroring Fay’s position on the left — Sstala, the Force told Fay — sighed regretfully. “Kyber-spice was Zorba’s idea but I was the one to make it a reality.”

“I think I can understand even more of why you overthrew him, now,” Aayla said.

Sstala shook her head, “It was the catalyst for Atom to act, but Zorba’s downfall was a long time coming. His idiotic adventures into the Force-drug market only sealed his fate.”

“And… you say the kyber-spice — the… pestilence… — is still ongoing?” Quinlan asked, directing the question at Fay.

She nodded, “Oh, yes. You must feel it in the Force as well, young Knight. Pockets of it escaped Atom’s initial scourging. Now, they grow as support is found elsewhere.”

“As if we didn’t have enough to worry about,” Sasha grumbled.

“I mean, I knew it was bad,” Maine commented. “But… that bad?”

“It got the Jedi’s attention like I said it would, didn’t it?” Atom shot back. “Yeah, it’s fucked. And we didn’t quite manage to avert the storm. Looks like we’ve gotta add another objective to the overall strategy.”

“We can help!” Aayla suddenly insisted.

“Help?” Atom raised an eyebrow.

She nodded, “It’s only right. And more than that… I find myself rather supportive of the rest of your goals, O’ Breaker of Chains~… The chain has not yet been made that cannot be broken, after all.”

Recognition dawned in the back of Atom’s eyes. It dawned on Fay as well. She’d heard the Story of Slaves. Helping everywhere she did, how could she have not? Aayla had been touched by the unfeeling, unflinching yoke of slavery. Not even Jedi could escape such evils in their galaxy, it seemed.

A terrible thing… A doomed thing… For even if she couldn’t speak her prophecy aloud, Fay knew it to be true, knew it to already be in the making.

“Would you be helping us for yourselves?” Atom asked pointedly. “Or for the Jedi Order?”

After a silent moment that seemed to stretch longer than it truly did, Quinlan answered, his voice soft but strong, “… For ourselves. Politics might prevent the Order from openly supporting this cause, but as individual Jedi, we can choose to face whatever punishment might come from doing this for ourselves.”

Fay sighed, mostly to herself, “If you truly face punishment for supporting and fighting for freedom, the Order will have fallen much farther than I thought…”

That neither Quinlan nor Aayla protested told Fay the truth she needed but dreaded to hear. Stagnation and decay must haunt the Temple’s halls. It was far from surprising, but Fay’s heart still ached to think about the Order she once loved succumbing to such things. Perhaps… after her calling here was fulfilled and for the first time in centuries, Fay would be able to do more good for the galaxy within the Temple than without…

“Kark, that’s good enough for me,” Linth laughed. “Don’t care much for the Jedi, Republic, or their politics, but I don’t think we can turn away allies who want to help.”

“No, we can’t,” Atom grunted. “We can… use this.”

“Would you want us to reveal our presence?” Aayla asked. “We had the idea that it might help things progress if you openly had Jedi on your side.”

Suunri chuckled to herself, “Heh, it might do just that. I can’t imagine your aid will be good for the Clans. Not at all.”

Atom — visibly considering the matter — nodded, “If you can, do it. Even here on Nar Shaddaa, the Jedi have… reputations. Legends. Most people barely believe they’re real. Having you here, supporting us in the flesh, will go a long way in our favor for some. Make the reveal dramatic, too. Something to send the Clans scrambling.”

“I’m sure we can manage something like that,” Quinlan said. “At the same time, we won’t be used as mere instruments of war. It’s not the Jedi way-…”

“It is,” Fay interrupted. “It very much is. Historically, at least. The Jedi have always been tied to war, for it is often the only way to the peace we seek, young Quinlan. But I digress.”

Pausing for a moment, Quinlan continued, “… That may be correct. But still, I’d rather we mainly participate in the aspects of your war that called us here. This… kyber-spice… and slavery. We’ll fight those abominations, but we won’t allow ourselves to be simple weapons for you to wield.”

“Of course, not,” Atom snorted. “After all, I’m not the Senate…”

Aayla winced at that jab, “Ouch… Too real, dude. Way too real…”

The barest hint of a smirk crossed Atom’s face, “Heh. Still, there will be places where you can be useful. We just won a major victory by killing another Hutt. It’ll be best to capitalize on that momentum. Some kind of freedom raid should be our next major operation. We’ve been freeing slaves as we go so far, but… we need something big on that front as well.”

Aayla grinned and practically purred, “Oh, yes~… I think we’d be very agreeable to joining an operation like that~…”

Fay nodded to herself, glad to see that alliance coming together so well. There would be no better way to cement it. Catharsis for young Aayla. Purpose for Atom, Quinlan, and the others. Noble purpose… Freedom for freedom’s sake. And while she could see that freeing slaves would benefit Atom’s war effort, it was far from a selfish objective. He had diverse reasons for doing as he did, but the results would always be the same. Freedom. Freedom and broken chains.

She found herself… satisfied with her calling. Satisfied with the man she’d pledged to follow and the way he lived up to her prophecy without being chained by it. This was where Fay was needed — where the Force, the suffering masses, and Atom himself needed her.

She could see it already — quite literally as the future came to her in the Force. Fay saw success and failure, tragedy and greatness… She saw chains slip and shatter. It wouldn’t be an easy journey. No future worth seeing ever was… But something greater drove them forward, something she wouldn’t dare voice now.

Glimpses of that future came to Fay as easily as the breath in her lungs. An exodus, a crusade into the stars, sourced from an upheaved shadow port. Chains wrapped around and between so many planets, they loosened with so many broken links. A war within a war, intersecting in the most pivotal of places. Lights across the galaxy — blinking out in great numbers, resurging just the same, and finally, with aid from unexpected sources, breaking free of a great web millennium in the making.

Backwards, her visions flowed. Down and in, they focused. Onto a heated conflict between a world and its moon. Naval engagements filled the local orbits, a brawl in the void. The moon shook and rose high into the proverbial sky, changing until it was unrecognizable. Enemies on all sides, choking, raging, falling in droves. Warfare on every front and medium, monumental allies from within and without.

Then, something else… Fay was close to the present. She could practically see herself in her visions from the Force. The immediate future held tidal waves, not mere ripples. Outward, they surged, flowed, and rushed. A Great Escape. Fay focused on ground zero. There, she found… quaking earth, a smiting from the heavens above, a blow to rock Atom’s effort just as he was getting to his feet.

The warning came suddenly… and almost too late. A hovering demon reared back its arm with destruction in its palm. Fay was practically shoved back into her physical body by the Force. She gasped for air and composure. And the warning came from more than just the Force.

Just as Atom’s war council and the Jedi Knights were to begin planning their next move, their next victory, Linth’s commlink screeched and screamed. A sounded alarm, and Fay knew what for. Linth checked his comm and simply blinked, all too calm for what was about to come.

“Ah… Well, that’s not great,” Linth sighed. Sighed…

“I don’t like that tone or those words from you one bit,” Atom grumbled. “What. Happened?”

“You remember that consideration I was supposed to be addressing after this meeting?” Linth asked.

“You mean orbital security?” Atom barked. “I fucking might!”

“It seems Sstala was right to worry about it. And that the Hutts were a bit quicker and more competent than us this time… ‘cause they saw the same vulnerability…” Linth trailed off.

“And exploited it,” Atom finished, his voice flat and his emotions kept on a tight leash. “There’s an orbital-strike-capable ship right above us now, isn’t there?”

Linth just nodded, “There is. It’s… It’s been a good run, friends.”

The reactions of the room were about what could be expected from people who’d just found out they were going to be obliterated from orbit. Panic. Fear. So many regrets. The bell of a grave hour tolled in the Force.

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ weak!” Becca snapped and impotently raged. “Stupid spittin’ slugs wanna kill us without the chance to fight!”

“This is fine,” Sasha said, smiling an eerie smile. “Atom’s here, so this is fine.”

“… Fuck,” Suunri just let out a rather uncharacteristic curse.

Sstala adjusted her glasses to hide her fear, “I-I feel I am entitled to at least one ‘I told you so’…”

“Not the blaze of glory I wanted, choom,” Maine rumbled. “Still legendary, though.”

“Ret’urcye mhi, ner vod… ni partayli, gar darasuum,” The Mandalorian — Coyate — intoned in soft Mando’a. “Maybe we’ll meet again, my friends… I remember you, so you are eternal.”

“David? Come here, mijo. Let me hug you one last time,” One of the women next to Maine — Gloria — said, near-silent tears tracking down her face. “I wish Taati was here, too… With her, mijo, you gave me a daughter as well as a son to love…”

“Sound an alarm,” Atom gave short, concise orders. “Every alarm. Start evacuating the tower.”

“It won’t be enough,” Aayla said, shaking her head.

“It’ll be SOMETHING!” Atom snapped right back.

“No. Do the opposite,” Fay said seriously, stepping up. “Gather everyone you can into the throne room. I shall… shield us. All that I can. The Force is with me and I have faith. I will not fail.”

“Master Fay…” Quinlan raised justifiable doubts. “They’re capital-grade turbolasers. We will be turned to glass. There’s only so much the Force-…”

“The Force is with me,” Fay repeated firmly, leaving no room for denial. “And I have faith. I will not fail.”

A moment of stunned silence at her resolve… and then Atom decided to trust her, “… What do we need to do? How can we help?”

“Lend me your strength. Your faith. Not in me or yourself. But in the Force itself,” Fay instructed calmly.

Atom nodded, “Gloria, I’m sorry, but we need David here.”

“Go, mijo,” Gloria whispered, hugging her son for what might be the last time. “Help save us all…”

The Force Sensitives — the Force’s Chosen — gathered around Fay. Young David in front of her, Fay saw the fear in him and saw how he wouldn’t let it stop him from helping in any way he could. In the Force, Fay reached out and gathered him up in her experienced hands. He lent her his SPEED.

Quinlan and Aayla stood to either side of her. They latched their Force presences to her with some familiarity. Meditation — while not ideal — was how they knew to do so. It would be enough. Fay swept them alongside David. Nerves but trust, from Aayla. Resignation yet more trust, from Quinlan. Valuable experience, from both, soothed the opposite in David.

Atom stood behind her. Somewhere between David and the Knights, he offered his connection in the Force to Fay. From him, Fay took strength. He was a font of it. So much raw potential, fueled and fanned by the spark at the center of his being. And… a unique way of channeling the Force: harnessed by righteous, buoying, driving SPITE.

He was the core pillar to prop her up. The strength of his connection in the Force saw to that. And where he went, the local Force followed its champion. Up and up, Fay was elevated. Enough power — concentrated and condensed between them all — to form a star.

Fay shaped it all in an instant, calling upon David’s SPEED, the Knights’ and her own skill, and Atom’s SPITE. Their combined connection to the Force expanded as a great shield, beyond the material world and all through it. It covered and cloaked the very top of the tower. The throne room and all within were cradled by Fay’s protective palms.

Beyond the Force, Fay heard alarms and scrambling activity. The others did everything they could, trusting Fay. They called everyone in the tower to the throne room. Too few would make it… A fraction of the tower’s population. So many souls, working, living, simply sitting in their homes… They were already doomed. This was already a disaster of damning proportions.

But some would find sanctuary beneath Fay’s protection. She would do everything she could, for everyone she could reach. It wasn’t nearly enough. But she was their only hope. So, she put all of her faith — a thousand years of commitment, devotion, and valued service — into the Force. And the Force… the Force cared. It repaid what it was given. The Force would see them through.

“BRACE!” Linth called from the edges of Fay’s attention.

High above in near orbit, Fay saw the hovering demon with its arm stretched to smite. A Hutt war barge, sailing the stars like a ship of the sea. A broadside of turbolaser barrels glowed with unholy, unrepentant damnation. In a singular awesome moment, they discharged their barrage.

Burning bolts of plasma and destructive energy screamed through the atmosphere. They reached the surface in less than a second. Each one was as wide across as three men, flying fast and burning bright enough to scar a planet’s crust.

As they came, Atom’s Force presence flared and surged, roaring spitefully upward to meet the challenge. For the briefest of moments, Fay felt his connection to the Force flash stronger than hers of a thousand years.

That flash coincided with another. A physical flash as forceful plasma met spiteful Force. Reality shook with the impact. But their shield held.

Turbolaser bolt after turbolaser bolt pounded down on them at once. Around and below them, concrete turned to glass. Building-grade steel evaporated. And ten thousand deaths immediately recoiled in the Force, a few stray turbolaser bolts hitting the surrounding buildings and most crumbling the rest of the tower beneath them.

Fay shouldered the backlash dutifully, wishing to spare youthful comrades from the worst. She felt her body stumble, warmth dripping from her nose and ears. Atom caught her. He held her up. He supported her in both the material and immaterial worlds.

Another turbolaser barrage came for good measure. Reality shook once more. The rest of the tower cracked, crumbled, and collapsed out from beneath them. The surrounding neighborhood burned. Yet more terrible deaths… How many had the Hutts so callously claimed today alone…?

Their shield suspended the throne room — all that was left of a once piercing skyscraper — in mid-air. Slowly, Fay lowered it into the cloud of dust, destruction, death, and debris. Only then did the turbolasers stop firing.

Dreadfully fitting darkness blocked mundane sight within the decimated ruins. The thousands of deaths clouded the Force as well. Fay kept her Light shining. It was all she could do to guide those souls to peace…

But… some still lived. Some had been saved. With a brief, searching flare of her Light, Fay saw the war barge in orbit move on. It was almost insultingly casual. As if it hadn’t just laid waste to thousands. For the first time in centuries, Fay felt something akin to anger. But after a shaking breath, she followed Atom’s example and channeled it into righteous spite.

Pulling herself out of the Force bit by bit, Fay fed that spite into her Light. It worked… surprisingly well. For a moment, she marveled. Spite… Was it truly so simple…? So effective…? She was a follower of harmony, of the Light. The spite she felt — the spite Atom seemed to exist on — was neither Light nor Dark, yet it would feed both eagerly.

Fay would’ve laughed if she had the physical strength to do so. But as she returned to the material world, she found that her legs had already stopped supporting her. She was carried in Atom’s arms now, staring up at his grim face. She thought — hoped — she saw concern there…

“Faith. Faith and spite…” She whispered breathlessly, reaching up to lay a weak hand against his cheek. “Have faith. Have spite, Atom. The Force shall always see us through.”

Before she could hear him reply, unconsciousness claimed her. Yet even in the darkness of exhaustion, Fay kept her Light shining. A beacon, for the thousands of lives stolen by — as Atom would likely put it — Fucking. Hutts…

IIIII

Bonus Pics (Sauce below)

And 'cause I doubt I get the chance to use any of these anytime soon, have an Art Bonus as well ;]