Jedi Fugitive (The Bad Batch)

8

Astera:

I sat alone at the bar, turning a glass over in my hands. It was empty; I had no desire to drink. The bar, likewise, was completely empty. The Bad Batch had been sent on a mission, and Cid had run off for some errand or other, stopping just long enough to tell me I had to look after the cantina. Again. Like there was anything to look after anyway. Bolo and Ketch hadn't even shown up today to make their usual mess. Even so, I appreciated the solitude; without the Batch here, I could finally take off my helmet for once. It rested on the bar, the Nite Owl's visor almost judging me.

My final conversation with the Martez sisters had been replaying in my mind since the day it happened. Who knew a Jedi could be so selfish? It had just been a sarcastic comment, an insult thrown out of misunderstanding, but it weighed heavily on me. I hadn't been a Jedi for a long time, but I wouldn't have been the only one to do it, I was sure. If anyone else had survived, they would have done the same.

Had anyone else survived? The last communication I'd heard from anyone had been Obi-Wan's message from the Temple, warning survivors to stay away from Coruscant. The majority had been executed in cold blood, but I couldn't have been the only one to survive the massacre. There had to be others.

Checking would be simple enough. All it would take was opening myself up to the Force. I had ignored all temptations of the Force for so long now; even opening myself up to it in the presence of others could give me away. But I was being paranoid. Clone Force 99 was not here right now, and the bar was completely empty. I could do it just this once...

The vast emptiness I encountered had me gasping and pulling back as soon as I'd reached my mind out. It left a gaping hole in my chest, a feeling of complete vacancy. I hadn't felt the void when I'd opened myself up to it last, focused too much on saving Omega rather than meditation. The feeling was almost painful, I half-choked, violently shutting down the connection. The hole remained, the feeling of something missing replacing the gaping emptiness. I was not used to keeping the Force closed off. Even when Bo-Katan had started my training as a Mandalorian, I had kept the connection open, letting its power flow through my body and centre me. Closing the connection, even if it was to protect myself, felt like cutting off my own arm.

I sucked in a hard breath, attempting to stabilise myself. It had just been a shock, I told myself, tucking my legs into something that resembled a meditation pose. After feeling the Jedi for so long, bright pinpricks of life within the Force, for so long, the sudden absence of all of them had just surprised me. I could do it. I could open myself up again for a bit.

I breathed out again, letting the power rush through my body. My mind's limitations dropped away, and I reached out, feeling for the life force that every Jedi had once held, only to be met with nothing. I choked back a sob, feeling the cold void in the Force, where there once used to be light. It felt... tainted, unbalanced, like a thick, oily silt that left a bad taste in my mouth. It reeked of the dark side.

The door opened with its usual click and hiss behind me; I snapped back to my body, quietly settling my helmet back on, expecting the Bad Batch to be back. The connection closed again, cutting off what had felt like a breath of fresh air to my mind and body.

I ignored whoever had walked in once I realised they were alone. It was probably Bolo or Ketch, here before the other. They would get to whatever they wanted soon enough. Not like they needed my help.

"Trace and Rafa said you were alive, but I wasn't sure."

I reacted with a gasp, a blaster yanked out of its holster and pointing, quivering, at the man who had spoken before I had time to register anything. He put up his hands, the features of his face as familiar as the back of my hand. The features I'd seen repeated millions of times into different people, and yet as distinct as any of the faces I passed by on the street.

"Relax, kid. It's me. Rex." He spoke slowly, as if talking to a spooked Tooka cat. I didn't, keeping the blaster vigilantly trained on him. He may have been a friend during the war, but that was before the Jedi had been murdered. Rex was still a clone. They couldn't be trusted.

"Don't worry. I'm safe. I'm not going to shoot you. Just put the gun down." He kept his hands up and wide open, still speaking clearly and slowly. It was hard not to trust him, even if it was just a little, after everything we had been through together.

I lowered the blaster slowly, though I refused to relax the tight grip on it. Just in case he made any wrong move.

"How?" I asked suspiciously, the single question harbouring a million others within it.

He tilted his head towards the table. "Sit down and I'll tell you."