Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Barriss Offee paced back and forth in her cell.

Besides the sound of her footsteps, it was silent. The Jedi Temple’s underground prison cells—created to withstand the abilities of the most powerful Force users—were several levels under the main Temple floor. Natural light seldom made its way into the halls of the confinement chambers and there was little sound from the hustle and bustle of Coruscant busy sky-lanes.

It had been weeks since Ahsoka’s trial and it unnerved the Mirialan that Republic officials hadn’t come to haul her off to real prison. What was the Council waiting for? She had bombed her home—although in her eyes, the symbol of peace that she grown up in no longer existed—and framed perhaps her only true friend for the crime. Ahsoka Tano had been facing the penalty of death within Republic regulations. If Skywalker hadn’t marched her into the courtroom, Ahsoka would be dead. Yet they were taking time with Barriss, and she couldn’t figure out why.

There were several possible outcomes: the Jedi could decide to kill or imprison her, they could turn her over to the Republic for the same result, or they could send her off to some colony world in exile. At least in exile she could make a life for herself; one without the Jedi, and one without the war. This war had taken the Jedi from that which they once were. And Barriss wasn’t sure if they could ever regain what was lost.

So-called peacekeepers now led armies across worlds, devastating them.

Despite seeing more injuries and death than she wished to count, Barriss had never seen devastation on the scale of what she had seen in the GAR courtroom. When she very briefly looked into Ahsoka’s eyes, at first she saw confusion and then once Ahsoka had fully realized what was happening, all Barriss could see was pure despair. The feeling washed over her in such a degree she wished to cut herself off from the Force entirely. But before she could take another second to focus on Ahsoka, she was whisked away off to a GAR holding cell until the Jedi ordered her release.

Barriss knew she could’ve escaped the GAR prison. It had been easy enough to break in the first time; but everyone in the entire Force-damned Republic knew her face now from the holo-coverage of the trial, which would make it difficult to get off-planet.

During her imprisonment at the GAR facility Barriss predominantly thought two things: this food is awful, but still better than government rations—Barriss had always been a picky eater—and, I wonder what Ahsoka’s doing right now? Thinking of her friend was almost too painful for the young Mirialan, but she could hardly help but wonder.

Barriss gave a hollow laugh. She had even begun to lie to herself, for there was one other thought she couldn’t escape; that of her former master.

Luminara Unduli was a very compassionate and resourceful  master who was widely respected within the Jedi Order—

“Until what I did,” Barriss said out loud, no one close enough to hear her.

The more Barriss thought about the people who she had hurt, the more personal despair she felt. Despair and shame. It coiled in her like a cold fire, a snake waiting to launch itself out and sink its teeth into the nearest living thing.

It wasn’t fitting to feel such shame—she was the one in the right. She saw the Jedi for what they really were. And she had said as much to her master. The last time she saw Luminara, Barriss was being whisked away on an LAAT/i, an uncertain future ahead.

Realizing that that was very likely the last time she would ever see her master—former master—Barriss sighed solemnly and stopped pacing. Barriss’ lips curled back as she thought of Luminara. She wished she could have talked wisdom into the woman she had always regarded as wisest—the woman who was practically her mother.

When the Council had been focused on Ahsoka, it had taken them less than a day to expel her, but for Barriss it had been weeks. What was the purpose of the wait? Were they going to Knight Ahsoka so she could carry out Barriss’ sentence? Thousands of thoughts raced through the Mirialan’s head as the door to her confinement cell opened—

“Barriss Offee.” Jedi Master Quinlan Vos had blank expression—one that appeared forced—on his face as he entered the room. Barriss was unarmed; despite this, she saw Vos’ hand twitch towards his lightsaber as she turned around.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Master Vos?” Barriss asked coldly, crossing her arms and quickly putting up a mental wall so as to not let him read her thoughts.

“Barriss, if I was that desperate to get information out of you I wouldn’t have to force my way into your mind,” Vos informed her, his fingers tapping his side in a rhythmic pattern.

Vos stepped further into the room, letting the door shut behind him. He kept his hand on his weapon and quietly studied Barriss. Instead of being concealed by a hood as Mirialan tradition dictated, Barriss’ black hair neatly brushed the tops of her shoulders.

“Master Vos—” The corner of Barriss' mouth tugged into a smirk as she realized she didn’t have to show respect to a senior member of the Jedi Order if she didn’t wish to. This was her choice now. She was all that was left of the true Jedi. “Quinlan, what exactly is it you are doing here?” Barriss eyes narrowed as Vos stepped back, his hand finally coming away from his lightsaber hilt.

Quinlan Vos had been a close friend of Barriss’ master when the two Jedi Masters were younglings. The two of them along with Obi-Wan Kenobi formed a trio of younglings—and later Padawans—whose adventures had apparently been somewhat infamous in the Order. Luminara had never mentioned these excursions or anything about their childhood to Barriss; instead she had heard of them piecemeal from Aayla Secura, Vos’s former Padawan. [Come to think of it, Barriss hardly knew anything about Luminara before their time together. Luminara never opened up about her past—perhaps that was why it had been so easy for Luminara to let Barriss go.]

“Well, Barriss,” Vos smiled weakly at her and leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed.]

“Well what?” Barriss snapped. “I already confessed to the bombing.” Barriss’ heart sank for a moment—she really had bombed the Temple. “What do you want?”

Vos stepped back towards the entrance to the cell. His gaze lifted from Barriss for a moment and he looked at the panel on the wall.

“Who else has visited you, Barriss?” he asked, reaching his hand to the panel.

“I don’t know why you bother asking,” Barriss scoffed. She turned around, facing the wall.

Despite her protest, Vos. “Aayla’s been here?” he asked.

Barriss remained silent, her arms still crossed. She owed him nothing.

“Well don’t rush to answer me.”

Barriss rolled her eyes and slightly turned her head. “You know the answer.”

“And you know my next question.”

Barriss turned her gaze back to the blank wall in front of her. “She was here once. She asked me ‘why?’ I told her ‘for the greater good.’”

Vos nodded and sighed.

“What?” Barriss nearly yelled, whipping around to face the Kiffar Jedi.

“You’re being transferred,” Vos stated.

Barriss’ face lit up, however her heart sank—she didn’t know it could sink any lower—and she bit her lip.

“Where?”

“Dantooine. Master Trajun will oversee your transfer. She’s going to be overseeing the restoration project there near the ancient enclave. They need healers,” Vos informed her.

Dantooine was an agricultural world in the outer rim—Mace Windu had defended it from a Separatist invasion in the first year of the war—controlled by the Republic. Far from Coruscant and far from Luminara. Barriss had read the reports. She knew there was widespread devastation on the planet after the war waged there. The Jedi and the Republic had done next to nothing to help reestablish all they had destroyed. Not until now, at least—over two years later. It should have been good news. Barriss just felt disgusted with the Jedi’s attempt to finally be the healers and protectors they were supposed to be.

“The Jedi finally trying to clean up one of their failures? How quaint,” Barriss spat.

“Two mynocks with one stone,” Vos retorted.

She frowned. “When?”

“Today. Now,” he answered, pulling a pair of Force-resistance binders out from behind his back.

Barriss groaned and stood up straight as Vos locked the binders on her wrists. She could feel the power within them pulsating, restricting her from using her own natural abilities. She never thought she’d live to see herself restricted like this. She had been determined to fight to her death rather than be taken prisoner by Dooku. Free, as a Jedi, she would never have to worry about being bound like this. The Jedi were greatly respected—or had been. Regardless, she was no longer a Jedi by the Order’s standards.

Vos exited the room and turned around, waiting for Barriss. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. She held her head up high and followed Vos out into the corridor. The Jedi’s mouth began to tug into a smile and Barriss couldn’t tell if it was out of pity or perhaps because he was glad she was leaving.

Barriss followed closely behind Vos as they made their way through the Temple. It seemed all eyes were on her. She overheard some whispers and some not-quite-whispers. At one point they came across a group of younglings.

The Human youngling—Petro, she recalled—extended his arm out in front of the Ithorian in a manner that one uses to shield another from danger. The Tholothian—a bright young girl, Katooni—glared at her with confusion. Barriss could feel anger waving off the Rodian youngling, as at that age she would not as proficient in shielding to hide her emotions.  

After a few hard looks from Vos, the younglings quickly dispersed. Barriss hardly even noticed the Temple guards that started accompanying them until they followed her and Vos into a lift—their masked glares didn’t hurt as much as those who used to look up to her.

As they neared the landing pads—so close to the hanger she had bombed—Barriss started to feel uncertainty in her future. From what she had heard and read about Dantooine, it had a conflicted history with the Jedi. About four thousand years prior, the Sith had bombarded the planet to eradicate the Jedi there, leaving scars that still were being healed this very day. Barriss wasn’t sure if the Jedi would be accepted on the planet, though it was evident the natives had no say in the matter.

Barriss felt blessed that she hadn’t run into Luminara during her parade through the Temple. She was even happier she hadn’t run into Luminara’s new Padawan. She probably would have taken Vos’ lightsaber from him and stabbed her replacement.

No I wouldn’t, she thought, letting out a heavy sigh.

Barriss did, however, think about taking Vos’ lightsaber from him. She wasn’t sure how far she’d be able to get if she followed that course of action. It hadn’t worked when she fought Skywalker, but she had a cooler head now. If only she could get to a starfighter...

“Quinlan,” she addressed her escort as they entered the hangar.

There were six Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor on either side of the large room, a Consular-class space cruiser docked on the platform that extended outside the Temple. It seemed the staff had been alerted of Barriss’ arrival, because they had all cleared away from their duties.

“Yes, Barriss?” Vos raised his brow. Since they left the cell block, Barriss had remained silent.

“Why is the Council having me sent to Dantooine? I was facing execution, imprisonment for life, or exile. But, they’re sending me on a restoration project? It doesn’t make sense, even put up against the rest of the Council’s awful ideas,” Barriss said quickly, wanting to finish this conversation before they were met by Trajun.

“Beats me. I don’t question the Council,” Vos repeated as if he were a pre-recorded tape. He was keeping something from her.

“Really?” Barriss grabbed Vos’ arm and turned him around. “You know just as well as I do that the Council can be wrong.” She continued to speak over the snap-hiss of the Temple guards’ saberstaffs igniting around her. “That more than ever they continue to be wrong!”

Vos frowned, pulling his arm away from her. He waved his hands at the guards and took Barriss by the arm, pulling her down towards the extended platform.

“I know. But I can’t do anything about that. Okay? I’m sorry Luminara never visited you,” Vos said sincerely in a hushed voice.

“What do you mean?,” she asked in the similar hushed voice.

“I’ll try to see to it that she contacts you all right? You won’t have to worry about us anymore,” Vos whispered as they neared the platform.

“Us?” Barriss asked quickly.

“The Jedi.. What you did was wrong, but you were right about one thing. We are becoming the Senate’s puppets,” Vos said to her before Trajun made her way down the loading ramp of the cruiser. “You won’t be alone. I promise.”

Barriss didn’t have time to consider Vos’ words before she felt instantly sick to her stomach after taking one look at Jedi Master Trajun.

You’ve got to be kidding me, she thought.

Jedi Master Ydirth Trajun was fifty standard years old and a traditionalist in the Order. And she was a Togruta. Her skin was orange with white markings on her face. She had violet eyes and her lekku—which came down to her waist—was striped blue and white. Encompassing her face was a gold Akul-tooth headdress that stopped level with her nose. Her overtunic was brown with a tan undertunic. She also wore a standard brown cloak. Not merely was it her appearance, but her stride that made Barriss sick—she reminded her of Ahsoka.

As she moved down the ramp, Barriss saw a saberstaff hooked on her belt. Barriss thought of how Ahsoka had mentioned to her that she wanted to be a master duelist in all forms. She had already trained with a single blade and a single blade with a shoto, but never with a saberstaff. Barriss felt dizzy as the Togruta Master introduced herself.

“Master Trajun,” Barriss said with half of a smile. Instinctively she started to curtsey, but stopped herself. Perhaps it wasn’t each and every Jedi that she hated. Barriss decided now to reserve her curtseys for only those she deemed worthy of her respect. And respect took time to build—and seconds to destroy.

“Barriss Offee. Your particular situation sparked my attention and the Chancellor said you’d be a perfect fit for our project!” Trajun smiled, sounding almost like what Barriss considered giddy.

“That project, restoration of Dantooine, yes?” Barriss asked, confirming what Vos had told her—and trying to calm herself down.

The Togruta woman nodded. Barriss looked behind her to find Vos had already retreated into the hangar. What did he mean by saying that she wouldn’t be alone? She was incredibly alone. Vos may be the type to defy the Council, but a promise of that scale? It seemed unlikely.

“Shall we?” Trajun smiled, extending her arm towards the ramp. Barriss could now tell it was a horribly fake smile. She probably hated Barriss for what she had done—or at least got as close to hate as a “True Jedi” could justify.

Barriss held up her bound wrists in protest. “Can’t I get these off?” she asked.

“Once we arrive on Dantooine,” Trajun answered.

Barriss slumped her shoulders and walked up the ramp and into the cruiser. Trajun followed close behind her, closing the ramp behind her.

The corridors were dimly lit but the durasteel walls shone brightly. Barriss was surprised the interior was kept up so well since the outside of the cruiser gave the appearance the ship had seen many battles—despite being a “diplomatic” vessel. Barriss counted sixteen clone troopers with red markings as she was escorted to the room that would be her quarters for the time being. She was pleasantly surprised she wasn’t being taken to the brig. Though it was jarring to think about why she was being treated so well.

So she decided to ask. “Why are you treating me so well? Why haven’t I been killed?” Barriss sat down on a bunk, her gaze fixed on Trajun.

“Barriss Offee, I have only one thing to say to you,” Trajun’s eyes narrowed. Barriss could see the Togruta’s peppy facade fading quickly now that they were alone.

“And what is that?” Barriss began the motions to cross her arms before she was stopped by her bindings.

“You are a traitor,” Trajun said sharply. “Even worse, you are a murderous traitor. And I will not allow a traitor to be the public disgrace of the Jedi. You are no better than Count Dooku, and I am appal-”

The words began to fade away. Barriss watched Trajun’s mouth move and movements become more wild. She’d never seen a Jedi, even Skywalker, get so angry. Though she’d seen that kind of focus before—when she had fought Ahsoka. Trajun maintained something close to composure, but not much. Her mouth was moving at a speed that Barriss could hardly comprehend. How long had she been talking at her? Or was she now screaming?

Barriss couldn’t hear her.

She just watched as Trajun continued her rant. Was she guilty of everything Trajun said she was? Of course, she was guilty of treason. And she knew that. Was she as horrible as Count Dooku? She hadn’t killed quite as many people. Certainly hadn’t killed as many people. Did the clones count as people to Trajun?—the Kaminoans certainly didn’t feel that way—the Jedi barely regarded them as such.

Of course, Barriss thought. She had killed Jedi, clones, Geonosians and plenty of other sentient beings. The thought shuddered Barriss to her very core. She was supposed to be a healer—instead she was a killer, a murderer. She felt sick to her stomach again and turned a shade of green she thought wasn’t possible—at least not for a Mirialan of her color.

This seemed like peace to her. Something resembling peace. Not peace-time, but peace in war. She could feel the hum of the ship around her, the sound amplified and echoing through the Force. She was going to be a healer, a protector—it was exactly what she wanted.

The Togruta still yelled, but Barriss drowned it out, only making out the words “Dooku,” “traitor,” and “disgrace” every few sentences.

She was awake when the ship dropped out of hyperspace, with more vigor than she was used to. It was possible this was just a side effect of her embrace of the dark side—enhanced senses.

Trajun had left, eventually, and the ship had entered hyperspace shortly after Barriss was left alone. Minutes turned to hours and it was possible that a day or two had passed since a clone last brought Barriss a few meals. She didn’t eat any of them. She wasn’t hungry. Force trances weren’t working, prompting her to sleep through most of the journey.

They couldn’t had been further than a few hours out from the planet before the cruiser jerked and screamed, an alarm sounding overhead.

No. This wasn’t paranoia or the remnant of battle reflexes. Something was wrong and Barriss’ Force-imbued senses were clouded.

The alarm still rang, loud and obtrusive in her ears.

Might as well see what’s happening, she thought.

She stumbled out of her bunk and out into the hallway. Smoke filled the corridor and the emergency red lights had come on. She raised her hands to her face and tried to produce a Force bubble to allow herself to breathe. She put all her focus into the action, but was unable to create the pocket of oxygen due to her Force-negating bindings. She groaned and held her arm over mouth and nose.

Barriss made her way down the corridor, searching for someone, anyone. The ship jerked again and she could hear the sound of a docking ring sealing. They were being boarded! She thought he Republic had claimed this sector…

There was blaster fire in the distance. Was it above her? Below her? Down the next corridor? She couldn’t tell. Her senses were still clouded and the smoke had become thicker and harder to see through.

This would be an excellent time to have a lightsaber, she thought.

It was near impossible to tell how many enemy ships there might be surrounding them. Separatist or pirate, one thing was for sure—Barriss needed to find Trajun.

The ship jerked hard and Barriss fell hard against the white durasteel wall. That’d certainly be leaving a bruise. She wished desperately she could use her abilities to heal herself, stop the pain, or make it bearable to breathe, but the binders resisted even the most simple of Force techniques.

She looked down and saw that a floor vent had come unhinged. She remembered Ahsoka utilizing a tactic of climbing through the vents to reach the bridge on the medical frigate they had escorted so long ago.

“Barriss! Let’s go for the vent!” Ahsoka had said.

It was a sound enough plan and as footsteps sounded down the corridor, it seemed her only option. Barriss crawled over to the vent and ducked inside. She pulled the vent back into its previous position and let out a heavy sigh of relief. It was easier to breathe down here since the smoke was rising. She couldn’t remember the exact schematics of the ship, but she figured going forward would be her best bet.

Barriss reached out with the Force, trying to locate Trajun, and a sharp pain surged through her wrists, spreading up her arms and up to her shoulders. She jerked her head up, banging it on the confines of the duct. She remained for a few moments, and when the pain began to subside, she crawled along through the vent Force-blind.

Fifteen minutes passed before Barriss discovered the bodies of dead clones, but there were no droids. Their armor plates were scorched as if hit by blaster bolts, but that would imply droids and there was a severe lack of them. When Barriss saw one was decapitated, her stomach turned. These clones were killed by a lightsaber.

It could have been Trajun, but that wasn’t likely. She showed too much disdain for Barriss to simply kill her by downing their ship. No. Trajun wanted to watch Barriss suffer.

Blaster fire started up and ceased in the matter of seconds, replaced by the sound of choking men. Clones. Then came the sound of the engines cutting out and the ship jerking hard in response.

Out of caution, she continued crawling through the ventilation system. It was a tight squeeze—and becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She rather face smoke than continue to feel like her arms were going to be torn off her body. The next grate she found, she repeatedly brought her cuffed hands down against it until popped open. She dropped down into the corridor and was pleasantly surprised by the lack of smoke.

Barriss recognized where she was now—the engine room was on the other side of the door to her left. She could hear the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting from down the hallway. She slammed her hand against the panel to open the door and ran inside. There was a supply cabinet slightly taller than Barriss herself and she manually pushed it in front of the door, blocking it almost perfectly.

But now she had trapped herself, presenting the problem that there was a lightsaber-wielder in the hallway and she was defenseless. Her only option was to crawl out through the ventilation shaft, and make her way to an escape pod. If she was in the engine room and her memory served her right—which it usually did—then directly above her should be a hallway leading to a set of pods. But she couldn’t get up there without use of the Force. She could hear a struggle in the hallway, the sounds of a lightsaber crossing with electrostaffs. She hoped this meant Trajun was fighting MagnaGuards. And she was probably capable of defeating them—Ahsoka had defeated three when she was only a fresh padawan.

Stop thinking about Ahsoka. You need to get out!

There were tools in the cabinet. She could perhaps use one of those to pry the  cuffs open. She opened the cabinet and started going through it, looking for anything she could use to open her bindings—and found a hydrospanner. She picked it up with her teeth and jammed it into her Force-nulling bindings, prying them open.

Her bindings clanked to the ground and she felt a surge of fear wash over her. It was the first time she had felt the Force in its full power in weeks, and she felt cold.

The dark side.

A thud hit the door connecting back into the hallway, and then she heard a female-sounding voice gasping for air and violent kicking at the door.

Barriss backed away and used the Force to pull the grate above her from the ceiling. She bent down into a crouch and leaped up into the vent as the door—and the cabinet—flew into the room, catching her legs beneath the knee and dragging her back down onto the ground, hitting it with a thud. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up to see Trajun grasping at her own neck.

Someone was using the Force to crush Trajun’s windpipe.

Barriss saw a flash of red light and instantaneously a scarlet-bladed lightsaber had found its way through Trajun’s forehead. Barriss screamed as the Togruta dropped to the ground, her saberstaff clanging to the ground and rolling until stopped by a foot.

Count Dooku seemed to tower over Barriss. Even returning his curved lightsaber to his belt he seemed dangerous. He was flanked by two MagnaGuards and Barriss knew there was no way she was making it out of this room alive.

“Barriss Offee…”

She turned her head, and shuddered at the sight of Trajun’s vacant eyes staring at her; a scorched, smoking hole between them. She turned her head back to face the man who had just killed her jailor.

“Count Dooku,” she spat his name. “We have nothing to say to each other. Kill me, and get it over with. .”

“No,” he said. “Take her.”

“What?” She would not allow herself to be taken alive by the likes of Count Dooku. If she could just get over to the core reactor, she could rupture the entire ship and doom them both. Without Dooku, the war might be come closer to an end. “No!”

The MagnaGuards started towards her, each grabbing one of her arms and hoisting her up. She grunted, trying to break free of their hold. She wasn’t going to let him take her. She’d rather die than end up Dooku’s prisoner. She reached out with the Force and Trajun’s saberstaff bloomed, twin green blades spinning towards her. It only took a few moments for the MagnaGuards to adjust to their surroundings after being decapitated, but Barriss took that small window of opportunity to drive the staff through their respective secondary operating nodes.

Traveling in space was cold, Barriss knew that, but as she made her way toward the core reactor access, she instantly felt much colder. Barriss turned back towards the door, saberstaff in hand with no clear plan other than to get away, and saw Dooku had a single hand outstretched—and a cloaked figure behind him.

The last thing she heard before lightning arced through her body was the insane laughter of an elderly man.

Present day

Coruscant

Riyo Chuchi’s office had seen better days; and more influential ones. The Chancellor was receiving more emergency powers every day, it seemed, and as a collective body, the Senate felt more and more like a formality than a true body of political power—now it all lay in Sheev Palpatine’s hands. Padmé Amidala was leading efforts to put the power back in the hands of the people, but one committee could only accomplish so much.

No longer wishing to be around the rest of the bickering Senate, Riyo made haste down to the transport docks. In her personal closed-top speeder, Riyo watched as several airspeeders passed by, unaware of her status and most likely too preoccupied with their own lives to give much care to hers. Her comlink lit up with an incoming message. Figuring it was someone inside the senate, she simply turned it off.

“Senator, we’ve arrived,” her driver and guard informed her.

“Thank you,” she said and gently touched his shoulder. “As smooth a ride as ever,” she offered and exited the speeder.

After entering the building—and a smile to the receptionist she had been making small talk with for the past few weeks—she made her way directly to the elevator.

Riyo let herself take a deep breath for the first time that day. She had been unable to tear herself away from her work and spent the night on the couch in her office. The couch itself had been a gift from Padmé—the Naboo truly knew how to make amazing furniture—and was very comfortable. She had fallen asleep while working on a document for the Delegation of 2000, which Pantora had just decided to join. When she woke up in the morning, she had continued her work until Padmé urged her to go home and get some rest, saying that the Delegation would still be there when Riyo could hold her head up without the assistance of her hand.

She slipped into her apartment and removed the gold pieces fixed into her hair. She set them down on her caf table and began to undo the elaborate braids she had fixed her hair in two days ago. The positive side of the fact it took her almost an hour to do her hair was that it would stay in for a few days, and come out in seconds. She grabbed an elastisynth band off a counter and put her lavender hair up into a ponytail.

Out of the corner of her eye, Riyo saw something move and in these times she knew better than to be unprepared—especially with the incident a few years ago with Chairman Papanoida’s daughters. She took out her hold out stun-blaster from its holster under the caf table and proceeded further into her apartment.

“It’s not wise to target a senator,” she warned her intruder. “Surrender now and I will see to it you will only be charged with breaking and entering.”

Riyo could hardly believe her eyes when she entered her bedroom.

Ahsoka held her hands above her head. “Don’t shoot,” she said, and flashed a wild grin.

“Ahsoka?” Riyo tossed her weapon on to her bed and smiled at her wayward friend. “Are you really here?”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said. “I am.” Her grin shrunk to a small smile as she embraced her friend.

Riyo pulled away. “What brings you here?” After months of not seeing or hearing from Ahsoka, she’d believed she would never see her again. At least not on Coruscant.

“I hate to ask, I really do, but was hoping you could lend me credits? I promise I’m good for it,” Ahsoka said quickly.

“I know you are Ahsoka. Of course I’ll give you some credits. Please take a seat,” she said, and knelt to retrieve a case of credits from underneath her bed.

“All right,” Ahsoka said, shifting uneasily before retreating out into the receiving room.

Ahsoka Tano of all people was waiting for her. Ryio could hardly believe it. The fact that the former Jedi had gotten in undetected meant either she needed to upgrade her security, or Ahsoka was just that good. Riyo decided on the latter and pulled the case of credits. After entering her passcode, the case popped open. Returning back to the receiving room, she found Ahsoka sitting down on one of the couches.

“How much do you need?” Riyo asked, setting the case down on the caf table.

“Just a couple hundred credits,” Ahsoka said, looking up at her friend. “Thank you, again.”

“Of course. It’s my pleasure,” Riyo smiled and sat down next to her friend. “I like the new get-up,” she added as she began to count out credits.

“Oh this?” Ahsoka stifled a laugh as she looked down at herself. “I could hardly walk around playing Jedi anymore. So I picked up this.” It was a simple outfit and not as for-show as her Jedi garb had been. She wore dark tan pants with black boots and a sleeveless navy tunic with gold detailing. She no longer wore her Akul-tooth headdress and instead sported a brown cap that seemed as if it could host goggles if need be. Her lekku appeared to be a few inches longer than Riyo remembered. Riyo also spotted a vibroknife coming out the top of one of Ahsoka’s boots.

“Where’d you get the credits for it? I doubt the Jedi would’ve exactly given you a parting gift.”

“Well, actually I sold my old clothes to a girl who wanted to look just like Commander Tano,” she responded, grinning.

“What? You can’t be serious!” Riyo exclaimed, putting down the credits she had been counting.

“This was about two weeks after it all happened. I was in the market near the Senate District and this girl came up to me a flat out asked ‘are you a real Togruta?” Ahsoka recounted, almost laughing.

“Are you a real Togruta?’ Are you serious?”

“Quite. After saying yes, then she moved to say that my ‘Ahsoka Tano Costume’ was so much better than the one they used to sell and she was ‘dying to know’ how I made it.”

“They made a costume of you?” Riyo asked, confused and slightly unsettled.

“Apparently Obi-Wan, Anakin,” she paused for a moment before adding, “and I are some of the poster-Jedi for the war. Or I was one of them. Costumes, trading cards, my face is on people’s shirts...Kit Fisto is also quite popular. Though from what this girl told me it’s more of a ‘physical fascination’ that the general public has with him,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Riyo began to laugh herself. “I suppose General Kenobi is adored by many as well. Having the pleasure of actually meeting him, I certainly understand making him a face for the Jedi.” She would’ve included Skywalker in the statement, but thought it best to leave him out of the conversation when possible. She didn’t want Ahsoka to bolt for the door.

“She offered me four hundred credits for my clothes,” Ahsoka said, “she said she wanted the best costume for an upcoming party she was going to.”

“That’s insane,” Riyo said, shaking her head but still laughing.

“She was a very nice Twi’lek girl. I exchanged my headdress for a grey smock, changed into it and gave the girl my clothes. In return, four hundred credits that I used to buy this. With the leftover I got a speeder,” Ahsoka explained.

“You bought a speeder with what? Three-hundred credits?” Riyo asked. Though she didn’t know what single-personnel speeders cost these days, she imagined it should be more than three hundred credits.”

“That’s sort-of how I got here. Few days ago the speeder...well it...it sort of blew up—”

“Oh my…”

“—Yeah,” Ahsoka said, shrugging. “There was this dock-worker that offered me a lift wherever I needed. So I didn’t cause any suspicion, I asked him to take me to Dex’s Diner. He’s a friend of Obi-Wan’s and I offered to work for him. Not waitressing, incase Obi-Wan came in. But I’d clean up after closing or in the kitchen,” she explained.

“You can cook?” Riyo asked.

“Not very well,” Ahsoka laughed. “But I can put garnish on a dish...Yesterday I started making deliveries for him. You weren’t here last night—”

“Sorry, I’m afraid I slept in my office last night. Everything’s crazy right now there.”

“Isn’t it always?”

“Yeah,” Riyo said solemnly.

“It’s ironic. The most peaceful place I think I’ve ever been was the Separatist Senate. They’re not quite as verbally violent as the Republic,” Ahsoka recalled from a few years prior.

“You’ve been to Raxus? When?” The mention of the Separatist Senate spiked Riyo’s interest. If Ahsoka still had a contact within the Separatist Senate, perhaps the Delegation of 2000 could use them.

“It was when I met Lux. Long story,” Ahsoka said, obviously not wanting to further the conversation.  

Riyo nodded and took that as a cue to stop asking questions. She finished counting out the amount she thought would satisfy Ahsoka...or at least get her where she needed. “He asks about you,” she said after recounting the credits for a third time—she didn’t want Ahsoka to leave yet.

“Who?”

“Senator Bonteri. He’s asked me a few times now if I knew where you were,” Riyo explained. She had actually seen Lux Bonteri earlier that day and he had made pleasant enough small talk. But they both knew where the conversation would go. Lux would ask the same question and Riyo would give him the same answer: she didn’t know. But now Ahsoka was right here in front of her, sitting inches away from her on the same couch.

“Oh,” Ahsoka nodded. She seemed to be contemplate her next words very carefully. “You can tell him that I’m well and good. Advise him to stop searching for me. He won’t, but tell him anyway.”

“Okay.”

“...I should probably get going. If Lux—if Senator Bonteri came to ask you about where I am, I doubt Anakin would be far behind him. And I’d rather not be here when that happens,” she said.

“Of course,” Riyo smiled and removed her satchel, placing the credits inside. “There’s also a private comlink in there, some hydro-packs, a bactapack, a personal datapad and some food bars from the vending machines in the Senate...and five thousand credits.”

“Five thousand!?” Ahsoka gasped. “Riyo...I appreciate your generosity, but I couldn’t possibly—”

“No, take it. Don’t be a waitress at Dex’s. Unless you want to be. I want you to be able to go wherever you need and do what you need. Okay?”

Ahsoka nodded. Riyo was glad she gave in so easily, because she wouldn’t have let Ahsoka leave without all five thousand of those credits.

“And if you need a place to stay, you can go to my home on Pantora. It’s in the countryside, but ever since my parents moved to the capital it’s been mainly unoccupied. My brother’s there now, on holiday from university,” Riyo said, pulling a card key out from her pocket. “Here.”

Ahsoka slowly moved her hand up and closed Riyo’s hand around the card. “You’ve already done so much for me Riyo. I’m sorry, but I couldn't possibly—”

“Ahsoka, take the key. Even if you don’t go there now, you’ll have somewhere safe to go if you can’t get passage back to Coruscant,” Riyo smiled, opening her hand once again. “And I promise, in about a month my brother and his boyfriend will be back at university and you’d have the whole house to yourself. Pre-stocked with food and supplies...please. I want to know you’ll have a safe place.”

“All right. I can’t thank you enough, Riyo. Really. This is all so generous of you,” Ahsoka said, taking the card key and putting it safely away in one of her belt pockets. She reached out and hugged her friend rather tightly before pulling away and standing up.

“Where do you think you’ll go?”

“Where I can help out. I want to go to Mandalore. See what I can do to help the victims of the chaos Darth Maul caused,” Ahsoka explained. “Don’t tell anyone,” she added. “Not even Padmé.”

“Not a soul,” Riyo said, rising as well.

Ahsoka nodded and put the satchel over her shoulder.

Before she could reach for the door, Riyo asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“If this is the last time we see each other for a while, I don’t want any questions between us. Of course.You can ask me anything,” Ahsoka responded.

Riyo took a deep breath in. It had been a question that plagued her and Senator Bonteri since the end of Ahsoka’s trial. They had bounced theories off each other until they overheard General Skywalker nearly assault a senator who bad-mouthed Ahsoka. They then only talked in private, away from prying ears—or the enhanced hearing of Jedi. “Why do you think she did it? Framing you of all Jedi?”

Ahsoka was slightly taken aback by the question but didn’t seem entirely uncomfortable. It was as if she had been waiting to answer that question for a while. “No gift is more precious than trust. I placed my trust in a friend and because of the way war changes people, she lost trust in me. And trust in what we were doing for the galaxy. I still trusted her and suppose I just made it easy for her. It’s hard to say, Riyo. Master Yoda would say the Force works in mysterious ways, but sometimes, especially as of late, I have a hard time conforming to that belief. It is mysterious, yes, but seems to always screw over the good guys.”

Riyo nodded with furrowed brows and crossed her arms. “What about what she said? About the Jedi falling from the light?”

“I know one thing for sure. The Jedi aren’t what they were when I was younger. They’re war generals now. And they’ve always been that way for the Republic, ever since the Great Sith War, but it feels different this time. Especially being on the outside now. And perhaps that’s why Barriss and I aren’t like the other Jedi. We see the difference.”

“But you’re nothing like her, Ahsoka. You would never do such a thing.”

“Maybe,” Ahsoka hesitated for a moment before adding: “but she wasn’t always like this. She was kind and gentle, never even wanted to hurt a spider-roach. But she changed, and maybe I just wasn’t aware enough to see it. It could have been me...”

Riyo draped her arm around her friend’s shoulders.“Don’t say that, Ahsoka. You could never bomb your home like that. And you’d never frame your best friend either.”

“No. No, I wouldn’t.”

“So why would you say that?”

Ahsoka looked down at her hands and tensed her fists before standing up. “I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” She picked up the credit case. “I should get going.”

Riyo stood and embraced the wayward Togruta one last time. “Take care of yourself, Ahsoka.”

“I will,” she smiled. “Don’t let the senate get you down too much, okay?”

If only it were that simple, Riyo thought. “I’ll try,” she said and gave a gentle squeeze to Ahsoka’s shoulders before escorting her out.

It worried Riyo that Ahsoka had been so quick to defend Barriss Offee. Had it been her in that situation, she’d still be upset, even a year later. Riyo would want the full extent of the law brought down upon the Mirialan. She was almost mad, had only furthered the violence she spoke out against. Riyo couldn’t understand why Ahsoka had seemed to just shut off her emotions on the subject; it was as if she had forgiven her. Though perhaps that was just a Jedi thing—detachment. But of course what difference did it make? Barriss Offee was locked up for the rest of her life—or at least until the end of the war.

Her comlink lit up again. “This is Senator Chuchi.”

“Senator, this is Captain Agata. There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who is it?” It wasn’t like Agata to leave out a detail as crucial as who had come to see Riyo. She usually provided more than enough information each and every one of her visitors—sometimes information Riyo would have to try desperately hard to forget.

“You’re going to have to give me a name,” Agata told whoever it was.

“I can’t do that. Just...it’s urgent okay?” Riyo couldn’t make out the voice over the comm.

“Just. Just let them in, Agata,” Riyo said.

“Are you sure, milady?”

The senator nodded.

“Milady?”

Right, this is a comm not a holo, she thought. “Yes, Agata,” she said.

“All right, Senator.”

The comm switched off and Riyo went to her bedroom to collect her stun blaster. This time she would be well aware of someone in her apartment—and hopefully this wouldn’t be a skilled Force-user. She pulled a chair over to face the door and sat in it, her blaster extended towards the door.

There was a knock at the door.

“Ahsoka? Is that you?” Riyo called out. No answer. “Ahsoka?”

She heard the locking mechanism on the door unseal, meaning that whoever was on the other side had a key card. When the door opened, it wasn’t Ahsoka.

“Lux. What are you doing here?” Riyo lowered her blaster and rose to greet the Senator of Onderon. He was cloaked, hood drawn up, but Riyo could recognize the nineteen-year-old senator because he was the only one who would be as ill-guided to walk into 500 Republica as if he were going to rob a bank.

Lux lowered his hood and hurried into her apartment, the door sliding closed behind him. He nodded at couch she had previously been sitting at with Ahsoka. “You should sit down,” he said.

She did as he suggested. “If this had anything to do with the delegation, I’m sure you would have led with that.”

“I’d have Padmé with me too,” he said, sitting across from her on the chair she almost shot him from. “Although this may concern her as well, I think perhaps it’d be better if we told her together. The Jedi can’t know…”

Riyo frowned in confusion. “The Jedi—Lux what’s going on?”

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a holoprojector, putting it on the table between them. “My head of security on Onderon recorded this,” he tapped a finger against the holoprojector.

“What are you about to show me? What could possibly involve me on Onderon?” This whole situation puzzled her. Onderon was in the Inner Rim, whereas Pantora was in the Outer Rim—she and Lux were friendly but they certainly weren’t friends. The only common ground they have—had—was Ahsoka and the Delegation.

“Just watch it.”

Riyo let a soft groan escape her. Lux didn’t exactly inspire confidence in her, but she didn’t have anywhere else to be—except asleep on her bed. Lux turned on the projector and stared at the materializing blue image.

The hologram showed a rooftop garden—as far as Riyo was concerned, it could have been anywhere in the galaxy—and a man in the rich white clothing of a government official walking serenely in it. He was flanked by two guards wielding laser lancers. The crest on their breastplates signified them as members of the Royal Onderon Militia.

“It makes quite the difference to walk these gardens with your own guard than have battle droids watching your every movement,” the man in white—King Dendup, apparently—said.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the female guard said. She was on the right of the king.

Riyo made a conscious effort not to gasp as the king and his guards rounded the corner. There was a cloaked figure standing there, motionless but still emanating a malevolent presence. The cowl of the hood was drawn down over the figure’s eyes, features hidden in the shadow of the palace. It had a feminine-looking frame, tall and thin, but Riyo could barely make out too much else.

The guards held out their laser lances.

“In the name of King Dendup, hal—” the male guard’s order was cut short by the sound of choking. He and his counterpart were lifted off the ground by invisible means, corresponding with the movements of the cloaked figure’s raised hand. The king looked terribly confused and flustered as his guards were lifted higher. The cloaked assailant griped their fist and the guards’ necks snapped with a sound that made Riyo’s blood curdle.

“So this is Count Dooku’s revenge for leaving the confederacy,” Dendum stated. “You know, the Jedi have taken special interest in this planet. You won’t hold it for long.”

“Count Dooku doesn’t want Onderon back. He wants to send a message,” the assailant corrected. The voice was different from what Riyo had expected; she had been waiting for an ominous growl, not a young woman’s clear, formal tone. The assailant lowered her crowl and undid a fastening clip, letting her cloak fall back off their shoulders and on to the ground. “But I suppose this is also revenge.”

Riyo blinked hard. The woman in the holo was a young Mirialan woman with a diamond tattoo pattern across her face. She was dressed in dark leathers and had a lightsaber hanging from her belt. There was nothing else about her clothing that marked any affiliation, and had it not been for the lightsaber on her belt Riyo would have thought her a hired thug, albeit an unconventional one.

But Barriss Offee was no credit-a-dozen bounty hunter.

“I see. The people of Onderon will never forget this,” Dendum defiantly announced.

Taking her lightsaber hilt off its hooked position on her belt, Barriss didn’t say anything. She ignited it, but hesitation showed on her face.

“Wait,” Dendum pleaded, extending out open palms, “I recognize you. Yes, you’re that Jedi that—” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sound of Riyo’s scream as Barriss’ red-bladed lightsaber drove its way through Dendum’s heart.

Barriss deactivated her weapon and hooked it back on her belt before activating the comlink on her left arm. “It’s done,” she said. Whoever was on the other side didn’t speak loud enough for the senators to make out. When she was satisfied with what she heard, the Mirialan jumped up and out of the holo-cam’s range.

Lux pressed a button that ended the holo.

Riyo took a few moments to collect herself. She had just witnessed the murder of a king by an individual that was supposed to be in Republic custody. If Riyo had seen Barriss anywhere else, in a crowd, she wouldn’t have recognized her. But standing there in dark clothes with a lightsaber—she was unmistakable.

“Wha-what did I just watch?” she stammered, still staring at the holoprojector.

“Last night King Dendum was murdered by Barriss Offee, traitor to the Republic and the Jedi Order,” Lux recounted.

Yes, I got that, Riyo thought. “Bu-but she’s supposed to be imprisoned!” she exclaimed.

“I know.”

“And now she’s working for Dooku? It makes sense...I guess. But from everything Ahsoka’s ever told me about her, it doesn’t seem likely.”

“I know.”

“Lux...why did you show this to me? Why not the Jedi? They have to know!” Riyo stood, grabbing the holoprojector off the table.

“Now hold on,” Lux cooed, grabbing her arm. “We don’t know the circumstances here.”

“What?” Riyo couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Lux, you just watched your king be murdered by a convicted felon. Someone who destroyed our friend’s life!”

“Yes, she did. But perhaps she had a point,” he said, standing up. Riyo stared at him blankly before he continued. “Bombing the Jedi Temple was an extreme, but everything she said about the Jedi and the Republic...I don’t know. Do you ever think we may be on the wrong side?”

Riyo pulled her arm away from him. “You sound like a Separatist!”

“I was one,” he reminded her. “All I’m saying is that if the Jedi allowed a dangerous Force-user to roam the galaxy unchecked, then how are they suppose to protect the Republic? They’re stretched too thin...this war is destroying everything they’re supposed to be.”

“Since when are you an expert on the Jedi?” Riyo respected Lux, but he was talking like a madman.

“I’m not. But they may know she’s not in Republic custody.”

“You’re saying the Jedi just let her walk free? And the Chancellor had no idea?”

Lux swallowed. “I don’t know, Chuchi. These are strange times. If anything, I think we owe it to Ahsoka to investigate this ourselves. After all, it might not even be her.”

Riyo bit her lip. She had just handed Ahsoka a ticket to the galaxy not fifteen minutes earlier. She had no idea where she’d go, or if they’d ever see each other again. But she certainly hoped it wouldn’t be one of them in a coffin-pod.

“Lux. Are you suggesting that we, two senators of the Galactic Republic simply forgo our duties to our planets and the people we serve simply to go hunt down a Dark Jedi and hope she what? Comes peacefully? We don’t have any leads on where she’d be, or where Ahsoka is for that matter!” All Riyo Chuchi wanted to do was walk ten meters to her bedroom and rest. She was certainly not in the mood for this discussion.

“When you put it like that…” Lux sighed and sat back down. “I just thought, if maybe we had Barriss...that maybe Ahsoka would come back.” He pushed a hand through his hair and gripped the back of his head.

Riyo bit her cheek, unsure of what to do or say at first. “Lux,” she started, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure wherever Ahsoka is and whatever she’s doing, she’s fine. You’re not doing yourself or your people any favors by obsessing like this.”

“You’re right,” he said and let his hand drop. After a few moments he added: “Could I have my holoprojector back? I need to think of how we’re going to explain King Dendum’s death.”

“Why not tell the truth?” Riyo suggested.

“It’ll only spread more chaos. I’ll go to the Jedi with the truth tomorrow, I promise. But my people have suffered so much, I don’t want them to think they’re in danger,” he explained.

Riyo nodded. “I’m sorry about your king. He seemed like an honorable man.”

“He was.”

The building shook and Riyo dropped the holoprojector. Several knickknacks that weren’t otherwise held down fell from their perched positions and on to the rich carpet of Riyo’s apartment.

“What’s happening?” she yelled as another tremor rocked through the room. “This can’t be a groundquake. Those just...don’t happen on Coruscant.”

Lux got up amidst the shaking and went over to the closed blinds. He pulled them open, letting natural light into the room as Riyo’s comm sprang to life.

“Senator! Are you all right?” Agata yelled through it.

“Yes, I am. Did you feel that groundquake?”

“It wasn’t a groundquake, Senator…”

“She’s right,” Lux said. Riyo turned his way and looked outside her window in horror. “The Confederacy is here.”

Somewhere in the Mid Rim

Despite many unfortunate situations arising while aboard starships, being in space gave Barriss an odd sense of calm. Perhaps it was because she was born on a starliner. Mirial might have been the planet her parents—whoever they might be—were from, but as far as most were concerned Coruscant was her homeworld. It was her home since near-birth after all. Now she supposed she didn’t have a homeworld, nor did it matter. A cell—first on Mustafar and later on Sereno—had been her home for the past year. Either there, or aboard the Motherless. A fitting name for her ship, she thought.

The Motherless was a heavily modified GX1 Short Hauler with the armament one would expect from a bounty hunter’s craft. Though not officially registered as a bounty hunter craft, the ship’s captain, Jeecen Hui, was not afraid to make use of the special upgrades made to this once-pleasure craft—including a set of Force-resistant cages that had replaced one of the crew compartments.

“Incoming transmission from the Invisible Hand,” Jeecen announced over the ship’s comm system.

Barriss rose from her meditation pad and made her way to the cockpit. Jeecen was in the captain’s chair and Cyberus was leaning on the back of the chair opposite the Rodian.

Cyberus’ black Mandalorian armor was great contrast to greatly lit cockpit. All the light in the room seemed to disappear into it, like a black hole. She assumed he was human, but over the past year of their “partnership” she had never seen him without his helmet on. She asked Jeecen once and the Rodian simply shrugged, saying that Cyberus was Mandalorian and that’s all she needed to know.

“Well patch it through, Jeecen. Don’t want to keep the Count waiting. We need that next payment to fix the ‘fresher,” Cyberus said. His voice through the helmet reminded Barriss much of the clone troopers she once served with, but then she could never recall working with anyone else who wore a helmet, and it may have been a general voice distortion as result of a vocabulator.

“Anything for the ship,” Jeecen gleamed. He was proud of his ship and made sure everyone knew it—the current state of the refresher, he was not very proud of. Like her captain, the Motherless had a pleasant exterior, but could certainly kill if provoked.

With a nod from the Rodian, a miniature holographic version of Count Dooku materialized from the holoprojector in the center console.

“Acolyte, you will kneel when I address you,” Dooku said sternly. Back on Sereno and Mustafar, such a command would have been followed by a volley of lightning coursing through Barriss’ body. But on the Motherless, it was Cyberus’ firm hands pushing her down into the position.

“Yes, Count,” Barriss bitterly responded.

“Come now, acolyte. I have told you to address me as Master,” Dooku insisted.

But Barriss didn’t call anyone “master” any longer. Not any Jedi, not Luminara Unduli, and certainly not Count Dooku.

“I have completed my mission,” Barriss informed him. “King Dendup is dead.” The assassination of King Dendup of Onderon was only the second successful assassination Barriss had completed. Often her missions were only reconnaissance, but lately Dooku was becoming increasingly bold with his moves. She hated everything that the man stood for, and if she could just get close enough to him, perhaps she’d be able to put an end to him and an end to war.

“Then everything is going to plan. King Lee-Char of Dac has also been killed.”

“What do you know, that Pau’an actually followed through,” Jeecen said quietly enough that Dooku didn’t hear him, but the glare Cyberus gave him spoke volumes.

“And what of Queen Breha?” Barriss asked. By targeting the royalty of loyal Republic planets, Dooku had hoped to drive their populations to seek refuge from the Confederacy. She was thankful that her monarch was in the dusk of his life. She had only taken perhaps five years maximum from the remainder of his life—and if it ended the fighting, it was worth it. To kill the barely legal young King of Dac would have planted more hesitation in Barriss, but the Pau’an acolyte had taken care of that.

“I’m afraid the bounty hunter Klor Taul was unsuccessful in her mission, but she did manage to take a few of the Queen’s retinue out before she was killed,” Dooku replied. There was a warning edge to his voice—speaking out of turn had been a risk when Barriss had already been chastised twice—but he made no comment on it.

In any case, Barriss was glad the mission had failed. Alderaan was one of the leading planets in aiding refugees displaced by the war. She respected Queen Breha and wanted her work to continue—the fact that this outcome disrupted Dooku’s plans was merely a plus.

“That’s what you get for hiring a no-good bounty hunter, Count,” Jeecen chirped. Cyberus whacked the Rodian on the back of his head, his antennae bouncing in discord with his head.

“Oh? Then what are you? If can replace her, I can certainly replace you,” Dooku warned.

Barriss bit the inside of her cheek—she didn’t want them replaced. Unlike Count Dooku’s other agents, Barriss and her handlers had become something of a unit. Even with the looming threat of them locking her up and sending her back to Dooku in cuffs, they felt more like family than Barriss had felt in a long time. It was their job—and they were paid handsomely—to keep her in check and report back to Dooku, but despite this Barriss thought they genuinely cared about her. Well, she thought Jeecen genuinely cared about her. The Mandalorian was more difficult to read. She could be wrong about them—it wouldn’t be the first time she mistook duty for affection.

“We’re mercenaries, sir. Big difference. More reliable,” Cyberus cautiously explained.

“I see.”

Barriss cleared her throat. “Is that all?”

“No. There is one other monarch who demands our attention,” Dooku informed them.

“We’re listening,” Cyberus chimed in.

“The Naboo have recently elected a new queen, Apailana. Her coronation is later this rotation and I need for you to infiltrate her retinue,” Dooku explained.

“But don’t the Naboo queens usually choose humans for that job?” Cyberus queried.

I guess he’s not human, Barriss thought.

“I have faith you will figure something out,” Dooku grinned. “This is purely a reconnaissance mission. Discover everything you can about the Naboo and when the time is right I will use the information you gather.”

“Easy enough,” Jeecen nodded.

“I don’t have to remind you what the price of failure is,” Dooku warned.

Barriss lowered her gaze.. If failure meant her death, she’d be fine with that. But failure to Count Dooku wasn’t that simple. Failure meant the unnecessary deaths of innocents. And that was something Barriss couldn’t tolerate. Politicians, Jedi, soldiers, they all chose to be in harm's way. However many of them had to die to achieve peace was a necessary collateral in her eyes. Whatever it took to allow her to end the fighting.

The Count gave a slight nod and then directed his attention elsewhere, the holo fizzling out as he did so.

“Set course for Naboo, Jeecen.” Cyberus was fidgeting with a datapad now. “The information Dooku sent over says that Apailana’s invite-only coronation will be followed by a banquet and ball. That’s our in. Any ideas as to how we stay inside the palace?”

“Queens usually have handmaidens, right? Well why don’t we offer her up as one,” Jeecen suggested as he calculated the hyperspace route.

“Really?” Cyberus sneered and pointed at Barriss. “This one doesn’t exactly look like a native.”

“I don’t know. I think she could pass for a Gungan,” Jeecen cackled.

Barriss rolled her eyes and stood. “He’s right though. After the Blockade of Naboo I did extensive research into their culture and each new queen picks her own set of Handmaidens. Usually from their towns or Theed—”

“You’re. Not. Human.” Cyberus clenched his fist. “Do you really expect one of the most heavily guarded monarchs in the galaxy to simply pick you out of a crowd for the hell of it? To add something exotic to the palace?”

Jeecen made a clicking sound with his tongue as the Motherless entered hyperspace. He eased the ship into autopilot and stood. “If the queen were in danger, I’m sure she’d want whoever saved her to be part of her security team.”

Barriss raised a brow and crossed her arms. “So I’m supposed to walk in there and hope someone tries to kill her at her coronation ball?”

“No,” Jeecen said and put his hand on Cyberus’ shoulder. “This bloke actually tries to kill her. You take him down and you’re in.”

“Except that ends up with Cyberus in jail,” Barriss pointed out the obvious flaw.

“And no Jedi—ex-Jedi could take me down. You’re talking like a madman,” Cyberus said. He looked Jeecen up and down and roughly brushed his hand off his armored shoulder.

“So you go a little easy on her. All I’m saying is that if you make her a convincing enough cover and put Apailana in true danger, the Naboo will be fawning over her.” Jeecen shrugged his shoulders and walked back towards the crew lounge. Barriss and Cyberus followed behind.

“Even if that works, half the galaxy knows her face. How do we keep it on the down-low that the Jedi Temple bomber over here is on Naboo?”

Barriss pondered that question momentarily and remembered a trick Obi-Wan Kenobi had used a year earlier. “The Jedi Kenobi once took on the appearance of a bounty hunter called Rako Hardeen. If we had access to a facial transformation program—”

“Does it look like we have access to that? We’re not the Jedi karking Temple,” Cyberus reminded her.

Jeecen had disappeared momentarily and reappeared holding a crude homemade tattoo hydro-pen. “We could give her more tats,” he said and turned the device on. It made a blood-curdling sound.

“Absolutely not,” Barriss protested. Mirialan tattoos were sacred. They were a mark of skill and prowess in an individual. A sign of maturity and expertise. She couldn’t just apply new ones whenever she felt like it.

“Or we could remove the ones she has,” Cyberus suggested.

Barriss made a sound of disgust, matching the look on her face. To add tattoos would be a horrible insult to Mirialan culture but to remove them...well, she was not truly a member of their culture any longer. She no longer kept her hair uncovered as was traditional or wore robes reflecting her heritage. Would it really be so awful to forfeit that part of herself if it helped her towards her ultimate goal: killing Dooku and ending the war? In many ways, she felt she didn’t deserve the black diamonds across her hands and face anymore.

Jeecen set down his awful abomination of a tattoo hydro-pen. “Or,” he started, “we put her in something that Barriss Offee would never wear.”

“Hey, is that bag the you-know-who's left here still in the hold?” Cyberus asked, aiming his question towards Jeecen.

“Yeah. Should be.”

“Then why don’t we just use that makeup box, genius?” Cyberus shook his head and started towards the hull.

Barriss raised a brow. “Why do you have a box full of makeup?”

Jeecen shrugged. “That time you went to Taris, we made a diversion and picked up some Twi-leks on Nar Shaddaa,” he paused briefly before adding, “and I think one of them left her dress here...it should be your size.” He followed after the Mandalorian to go in search of the alleged dress.

Barriss swallowed hard. Makeup and even the most revealing dress was a sound alternative to permanently scarring her face, and she was prepared to do anything to end the war.