Work Text:
0
Luminara Unduli was just about a third of the way through figuring the route through a three-dimensional maze puzzle when the holo abruptly flashed and disappeared.
There was a pause.
“Hmm,” she said, in lieu of the more colorful options that presented themselves.
It was only a recreational activity, honestly, despite her belief that such puzzles were essential for any kind of battle planning in space. At first glance it resembled nothing so much as Barriss' Geonosian tunnels, only ten times more complicated and with a little white dot representing herself, deep in the maze's heart. Despite the pressing need for more practical analyses, Luminara still preferred taking some time for more relaxing endeavors—little mind games like this, mazes or pattern puzzles of a few thousand pieces, were a favorite.
Still, Jedi or not, one's holoemitter burning out right when you had almost figured out that complicated little snarl of passageways was more than a little frustrating.
She glanced at the chrono and sighed. Not nearly enough time to restart; that particular maze would have to wait until she had another few unbroken hours of spare time, and the Force only knew when that would be.
Well, such was the way of things. The Council had asked her—among other Masters—for an analysis of several recent skirmishes with an unusually well-organized group of what appeared to be pirates. She didn't anticipate any real threat, but carelessness would create dangers that might not otherwise exist. Starting an hour and a half ahead of schedule would hardly hurt her in the long run.
However, that meant she was going to need a new holoemitter. A brief inspection of the unit she'd been using showed the tiny emitter mechanism entirely burnt out, and there was no way to remove the damaged part. She sighed, slid the 3D maze module into her pocket, and set the now-useless holoemitter aside to recycle later as she stood and stretched.
Actually, she thought. Once she picked up a holoemitter she really should get something to eat. She'd regret it in an hour otherwise, when she had to pause halfway through a simulation of a battle to track down supper. It would give her eyes a chance to rest, as well.
The Temple always felt much emptier than it was. Thousands of people at any given time, and yet other than nodding to Aayla as they passed in a corridor she very nearly saw no one else as she made her way to the nearest supply closet and tapped the pressure pad to open the door.
There was a soft hiss, followed immediately by a terrified yelp. Luminara just had time to recognize the pattern of green-on-olive tattoos on the hand running along Padawan Tano's lekku before Ahsoka leapt wildly back, tripped over a bucket, yanked the cord on the overhead light in a desperate attempt to regain her balance, and fell into a pile of half-empty droid part boxes.
1
She couldn't stop smiling.
None of them could, really. And what of it? They were supposed to be happy. Barriss couldn't imagine feeling anything else, not with the little blue crystal glowing softly in her pocket. The Force was singing, around and inside her. Just when she'd been starting to make her peace with the idea that she wasn't ready yet, that the Masters had made a mistake, she wouldn't find one...
“Hey, Wan.” Tutso, like Barriss, was sitting on an upended barrel while they waited for their chaperone to come for them. “How's your leg?”
Demaera Wan paused the impromptu “lightsaber” duel she'd started with D'ket and a pair of lightweight pry-bars, looking over at him with a grin. “Feels great! Just like new. You did good, Barriss!”
Even through the heady rush of joy still radiating from the crystal—her crystal—Barriss felt a twinge of anxiety. “You should stay off it until you see Master Che,” she said quietly. “I'm not a real healer.”
Except she was, the Force had told her so earlier when she'd come across Demaera at the bottom of a treacherous ice slope white-faced and clutching her broken leg, and there hadn't been time to go for help, there was no one else around and Barriss wasn't big enough to help the other youngling back to the entrance alone... she'd known she had the potential, but she was a youngling still, only a student, not even a padawan, she wouldn't be able to help, she wasn't good enough.
Until that warm nudge in the back of her mind had said yes you are. You won't know what you can do unless you try...and her crystal had called to her more and more strongly as she channeled the Force into Demaera, and Barriss hadn't even realized it was happening until she opened her eyes to that soft blue glow.
D'ket gave a sharp, vibrating bleat of Gotal laughter and swung her pry-bar at Demaera, who leapt over it and landed heavily. Barriss flinched, but the leg held, so she decided to try not to worry about it anymore.
“Can you guys keep it down?” complained Tanassi's voice. Barriss blinked and looked around, but didn't see the little gold Rodian anywhere. “I'm trying to meditate.”
Before Barriss could apologize, Demaera rolled her eyes good-naturedly and said, “Tas, you can't meditate all the time.”
“Oh, I don't know,” Tutso grinned. “She can if she tries hard enough. Don't listen to her, Tas. You'll get hungry, though.”
“I'm hungry,” offered D'ket. “We haven't been called yet, I bet I could find a kitchen and get back with some nutrient bars before we have to do anything.”
Barriss shifted uneasily. She was very hungry, too, hungrier than she should have been just from the Gathering, but... “We were told to stay here,” she said.
D'ket jumped onto a crate, swiping at Demaera's head. There was a dull clack as their “blades” connected. “Where's your sense of adventure, Offee?” she demanded, somersaulting over the human's head and getting smacked across the shoulders for her trouble.
“Guys,” Tanassi whined.
Barriss hugged herself. “I just don't think...” She trailed off.
Tutso leaned forward easily, resting his weight on his crossed legs. “What's up, Barriss?”
Before she could decide whether or not to answer, the door to the hold finally slid open. Four heads snapped around to the door, and after a moment even Tanassi's popped up from the middle of a cluster of barrels.
“Younglings!” bellowed their chaperone. Tutso perked up and jumped down from his barrel, and D'ket gave a little skip as they hurried to line up in front of him.
“Master Krell,” Barriss greeted him politely. Demaera was helping to haul Tanassi out over the barrels.
Two pairs of enormous arms crossed above their heads as they looked up at Master Krell. He grinned down at them.
“Well now!” he said. Two of his arms unfolded and rested on his hips. “You all have crystals! Do you want to stand around admiring them all day?”
“No, Master!” Demaera and D'ket responded, cheerfully matching Master Krell in volume and enthusiasm. Tutso was slightly behind, and Barriss and Tanassi shook their heads.
Master Krell gave a low laugh, and one arm casually clapped Barriss on the shoulder without looking at her, knocking her sideways into D'ket.
“That's what I thought! Now. You'll learn how to build a lightsaber soon enough. I'm sure some of you are looking forward to it!”
D'ket had the grace to look sheepish as she set her pry-bar aside. Krell threw his head back and laughed.
“There's nothing wrong with enthusiasm! But a lightsaber is not just a weapon, as you should all know. Mara!”
“Yes, Master?”
Master Krell crossed his arms again. “When do you become a Jedi?”
Tutso frowned. “When...we arrive at the Temple?”
“Wrong! Wan?”
“When we're born, Master!”
“Is that so?” Master Krell boomed. Barriss flinched, slipping a little to the side so she was out of his line of sight. He wasn't scary, not really; his presence in the Force was friendly, and he seemed to enjoy being around them. He was just...loud. She was glad he had a padawan already, because she certainly wouldn't want him to pick her. “So Force-sensitive children on the Outer Rim, or in Hutt space or neutral systems, who never come to the Temple. Are they Jedi, then?”
“No, Master.”
Barriss raised her hand cautiously. Master Krell didn't see her, and folded his arms.
“Any other suggestions? Come on, don't be shy!”
“When you become a padawan?” Tanassi said hopefully.
“That would mean you're not a Jedi! Are you a Jedi, youngling?”
“Yes, Master!” Poor Tanassi looked horrified at the question.
“Master Krell,” said Tutso, pointing across the crescent they'd formed around the Master. “I think Barriss has one.”
Krell looked surprised, turned to look, and accidentally clubbed Barriss upside the head with the side of his hand. She stumbled half a step to the side but didn't fall over, which she was proud of.
“Offee!” he exclaimed. “You're too quiet, youngling! Well? When do you become a Jedi?”
Barriss swallowed heavily. “When...when the Force chooses you, Master.”
He gave her a toothy grin, motioned like he was going to slap her on the shoulder again, then apparently thought better of it and carefully tapped her on the head with one finger.
“Well,” he said. “That's not what I was going to say, but you can't argue with it!” In one swift motion, he unclipped one of the long, heavy saber hilts hanging from his belt and held it up, over their heads. They all stared at it as green blades hissed into existence from either end. Barriss hastily backed up.
“You can do a lot of damage with one of these, younglings,” Master Krell said warningly. “This is a weapon of destruction. Never forget that.”
D'ket made a nervous sound in her throat. “You said it wasn't just a weapon, Master.”
“So it isn't. But it is what you turn it into. It becomes a reflection of yourself. So, younglings. What will your lightsaber be? It can look whatever way you decide,” he said with a careless wave of one hand. “But what will it represent?” The blades snapped off, and Master Krell raised his arms and looked under them and around himself. “Offee! Where are you this time?”
Barriss raised her hand. Master Krell shook his head and chuckled as he swung his saberstaff back onto his hip with a motion that would have elbowed Barriss in the head if she hadn't moved.
“I asked a question, younglings!”
Hope, Barriss thought with a warm sense of rightness. I want to represent hope. Hope that pain would be healed, or that someone's life would be better now that she was there. And now that she had her crystal she was one step closer.
“Yes! You!”
Tanassi lowered her hand shyly. “Connection to the Force, Master. I hope I would never use my lightsaber in a way the Force didn't guide me to.”
Master Krell gave her a lopsided smile and pointed to Tutso.
“Protection, Master! I want people to feel safe when I'm there.”
“Me too!” Demaera said immediately. “I want anyone who sees it to know they're safe now. What about you, Master? What do yours represent?”
Master Krell looked pleased by the question. “Strength,” he said. “Strength to my allies and the people under my protection, and to their enemies, strength that they cannot hope to fight or oppose.”
D'ket gave another little leap. “I want mine to be courage,” she said firmly. “I want to feel brave when I use it, and I want people who see me to know they don't have to be afraid, either, no matter how powerful the enemy is.”
Master Krell dropped a hand on her shoulder, and her knees buckled. Once again, he didn't seem to notice. To be fair, D'ket didn't seem to have noticed either. “A worthy goal, youngling.”
“Or how many heads it has!” D'Ket continued enthusiastically. “Even if it breathes fire! And acid! And it's the size of a mountain! No, two mountains! And—”
“All right, that's enough.” Master Krell somehow managed to say it through another fit of full-bellied laughter. “Back up, all of you!” They obediently formed a circle under the direction of Master Krell's gesturing. He turned around to fiddle with something, and Barriss leapt back before he stepped on her foot.
Nodding to himself in a satisfied manner, Master Krell motioned toward the lighting controls. They dimmed with a whisper in the Force, and he got down on one knee to place himself closer to their level before putting a holoemitter on the floor.
What sprang up was a display of lightsaber hilts of every description, blinking in and out and being replaced by new ones. Most were of designs Barriss had seen before; some were slimmer, some thick and heavy, some with elegant detailing. Some were longer than others, and not all of the oversized hilts were saberstaffs. She recognized one design as a guard shoto—and then it was gone again, replaced by a rotating standard hilt.
“Of course what's important is how you use your lightsaber,” Master Krell told them as they whispered and made noises of awe and appreciation for particularly iconic or interesting saber hilts. “I could tell you appearance doesn't mean anything, but would any of you listen?”
There was nervous laughter around the circle.
“Yes, Master Krell,” Tanassi said politely. He laughed low in his throat.
“Listen and not ignore, youngling.” He winked at her. “I want you all to think about it! Don't try to show off! There will be time as you become more experienced to alter your lightsabers, add or remove components you no longer feel represent you or its purpose accurately. You may choose to learn staff techniques, or an altered grip! Let the Force guide you. And build the lightsaber that matches you and your needs, as you are. It will grow with you. Don't try to force that. Let your lightsaber be young while you are young.”
Barriss had relaxed over the course of this little speech. Master Krell had seemed bombastic before, and she still would never want to be his padawan, but while his voice was still powerful it was quieter, kind as he spoke to them. She took a deep breath and felt the warmth of her crystal in her pocket. She had been worried, before, about how she would know what design to use. She was less concerned now. There would be time for them both to grow together. I don't want it to be flashy, she decided. Something simple, but smooth, without bumps and ridges that would stick out or worry her about denting.
Matte metal, that won't get sticky or carry fingerprints! That was it, that was the thought that felt right. She would always feel anxious about her lightsaber's appearance otherwise, and that shouldn't be. It was meant to be a part of her, not a source of stress. Soft, smooth metal, simple and gentle and unassuming...
Master Krell was still telling them all about the different styles they might choose to study or even specialize in, and all the options open to them for whatever type of weapon called to them and wanted them to use it.
“You never know!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands wide. “One of you may create something entirely new to the—Offee, warn me when you sit that close!”
2
Barriss Offee was nervous.
She wanted so very badly to make a good first impression. She knew this wasn't a real mission—not a proper one, not a Jedi intervention, just a meditative retreat. But it was still her first time offworld as a padawan, and she didn't want to make a mistake.
Especially not in front of Master Unduli, especially not so soon. Anxiety coiled tighter in her belly just thinking about it.
Barriss could feel when the ship's landing flaps opened. Not in the Force—well, she could sense that too, but she didn't need the Force to feel the ship suddenly slow. She was slightly too short for the turbulence harness, and the sudden slowing-down made the leather chafe against her throat.
“Landing vector received,” their Trandoshan pilot told Traffic Control. She switched off the comm and addressed Master Unduli. “Touching down at Kistali Spaceport in five, Master Jedi. You know I could drop you off at the Falls directly, right? That's some hike, especially for the cub.”
“The route we intend to follow is traditional,” Master Unduli responded politely from the copilot's position. “But I appreciate the offer.”
The Trandoshan shrugged agreeably. “Yes, ma'am. 's all the same to me.”
That was just one of many new things Barriss had experienced over the past month. She had gone on field trips and her Gathering as a youngling, of course, but those had been very rare, were always in the company of other younglings from her cohort or classes, and had always made use of Temple starships. They'd been piloted by droids or a Master and had all been collectively owned by the Jedi, and they had always boarded those transports straight from the Temple. Taking a private charter from a dock in upper Coruscant was something Barriss had never done before.
She resisted the urge to rub at the new diamond marking on the bridge of her nose. She hadn't entirely been able to keep from feeling it even when she was supposed to refrain from touching the tattoo until it healed properly; but Master Unduli—her master, Barriss thought with a now-familiar thrill of terror and elation—had made sure she got bacta patches and it had healed within a week. Any tenderness now was just her imagination.
While clouds streaked by in the viewport, Master Luminara turned her seat part of the way around and leaned her arm on the headrest so she could look back at Barriss.
“Well, Padawan,” she said with a kind smile. “Are you ready?”
Barriss swallowed, nervous again. “Yes, Master.”
She didn't feel ready, but she hoped she would be. She'd never been on any kind of assignment with just Master Unduli before. They spent several hours a day together, but Barriss still had core studies to complete while they were in the Temple and not training. She lived very near her master now, but it wasn't as if they didn't have their own quarters. This wasn't even a field assignment, she thought, fighting the urge to twist her new heavy skirt in her hands. She shouldn't be so anxious. She didn't have any reason to be so anxious...
She was distracted enough by worrying that she actually jumped when Master Unduli stood seconds before the engines turned off. Their pilot was good; there had been no bumping or jostling as they landed. Barriss hastily fumbled her harness off and scrambled to her feet.
“Not at all,” their pilot was hissing happily, shaking her master's hand. “Always a pleasure doing business with Jedi. And you said three days' retainer?” Master Unduli inclined her head, and the Trandoshan threw her a casual salute. “No need for you to stick around then, Master Jedi. I'll clear parking and see you in three days.”
“I'm grateful for your willingness to do so.” Master Unduli glanced over her shoulder. “Barriss,” she said mildly. “Be polite.”
Flushing, Barriss bowed to the pilot. “Thank you, ma'am.”
She thought she felt approval as she straightened up again, though the Trandoshan looked like she was laughing—a sort of aborted hissing sound as she nodded to Master Unduli again and set about seeing to her ship. Gentle fingers in the small of her back directed Barriss out of the cockpit and down a hard left to an open gangplank, which she at least managed to navigate without tripping over her own skirts.
Blinking in the bright sun and a little dizzy from the altitude, Barriss Offee stepped out onto Mirial.
“What do you think?” her master asked quietly.
Barriss looked around, eyes wide. The Stonewing Heights were a series of rough, wild tiered steppes leading up to one of her ancestral world's impressive mountain ranges; if not the highest, then one of the steepest and most iconic. She could see the mountains in the distance, deceptively small and gentle-looking. That, she knew, was an illusion.
This was a hard, feral, unforgiving place. The dry grass under their feet was twisted and stiff; Barriss couldn't imagine what kind of animals would want to survive on it, and there didn't seem to be many other kinds of plant life. She remembered from her reading that legends about the Heights said the wind never stopped blowing. Some locals believed that when a person died here, the wind swept up their soul as part of itself. Fearless and free for eternity. It couldn't be right, of course—when someone died, their spirits became one with the Force. But it was a nice story.
“I thought it would be colder, Master,” she said honestly. Mirial was always spoken of kind of like Pantora, and it was always cold there. Knowing the average temperature for this province at this time of year hadn't stopped Barriss from expecting something more stereotypical, it would seem. Maybe that was a test she'd already failed.
Master Unduli didn't disapprove, though; she just laughed softly, and Barriss perked up at the sound.
“It's high summer here,” she said. “In a month, it will be far colder.”
The faint chill in the air, the one Barriss had always associated with overenthusiasm in air-processing settings or the onset of late autumn she remembered from an offworld outing once, suddenly felt much more sinister.
She pulled her cloak closer as a gust of wind blew in off the steppes one tier below them, hundreds of meters below with the edge unsettlingly close. Master Unduli placed a kind hand on her shoulder, then said “Wait here, Barriss,” and strode off around the other side of the ship.
Barriss, left alone, sat down on the gangplank and watched the whistling grass.
Kistali wasn't even on the map; Barriss knew, because she'd checked. The “spaceport” their pilot had mentioned was just a circle of duracrete near the edge of a plateau, with a little duracrete alcove carved out underneath just big enough for a single small freighter. It looked barely maintained and there were no staff to be found; Barriss suspected the only reason a tiny village like this even had a landing pad was their position near a traditional Mirialan Jedi pilgrimage route.
A shadow rippled across the grass; Barriss looked up, startled, and actually gasped quietly at the steel-gray six-winged shape soaring over her head. Before she could sort through her memory to find the creature's name its broad furry head cocked. The rear wings flared even as the others folded, and the steppe striker—that's what they were called!—twisted to the side and vanished in a lightning-quick stoop over the edge of the cliff.
She wondered if her master would be interested in hearing about the steppe-striker. They weren't rare at all, but she thought the long, compact hunter had been beautiful.
She felt Master Unduli's approach in the Force a few seconds before she heard footsteps crunching in the dry grass, and managed to be on her feet by the time her master came around the nose of the ship and motioned Barriss to her side.
“We're in luck,” she said cheerfully as she led them out over the plans. She nodded toward a heavily rusted box of some sort poking up above the grass. “I'd hoped to find a market transport today. I didn't expect one would be so close. I'm sorry to delay you,” she added, raising her voice toward the transport. “We appreciate your help!”
“No trouble!” came the reply. As they drew closer, Barriss made out an older Mirialan man sitting on top of the rickety transport, apparently entirely unconcerned as it swayed in the wind. “The girls're hauling from the quarry, a few travelers make no difference. In particular not such small ones. Begging your pardon.”
Realizing Master Unduli was looking down at her, Barriss dipped the man an awkward curtsy. “It's no offense, sir.” She hesitated; the transport seemed a fairly standard market model, with two hovering lifter droids attached to the front. “Who are the girls?”
The man grinned. He was missing a tooth, but her sense of him in the Force was friendly enough to make his appearance more charming than anything. “That'd be Patty,” he said, gesturing at one of the droids. Barriss realized on a second look that, despite the beaten-down appearance of the transport, the man's droids—however obsolete and weathered—were in perfect working order and whirring cheerfully back and forth to each other. They had been kept lovingly enough that she could even make out their numbers: P8-T3 and P8-T4. “And that'd be her sister Patter. Hennam, by the way, ma'am,” he added with a nod to Master Unduli. “And not to be any rush, but...”
“Of course. Barriss?”
Barriss hesitated as she looked at the transport. It hovered higher than a speeder—it would have to, so as not to drag in brush or over rough terrain. But she wasn't sure if she could quite reach that first handhold from here, especially not without missing and cutting herself on the rusty sides...
She gave an embarrassing squeak as she was lifted gently under the arms, raising her just the hand's breadth she needed so she could stand on the edge of the transport and climb up the ladder. She pulled herself on top of the stone shipment carefully; her master watched her until she'd settled in a more secure position before she jumped with a soft swell in the Force to join her.
Barriss, realizing belatedly that she could have just done the same thing, felt rather foolish.
Master Unduli rested one foot on a side rail as Patty and Patter revved their antigrav circuits and eased the transport into motion. Barriss smoothed her skirt and folded her hands in her lap. She had to admit that the view from up here was much nicer, and that she was grateful not to have had to walk the many kilometers uphill to Shana Falls.
For several minutes, they were quiet as Hennam whistled back and forth with his droids, enjoying the sunshine and the fresh air. At least, Barriss knew she was enjoying it, and Master Unduli seemed content.
Finally, when they swung onto a dirt road and began heading toward the pass, Barriss' master turned to her.
“Tell me,” she said, and Barriss straightened attentively. “What do you know of the history of this region?”
Luminara Unduli closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh while counting backwards from fifteen in Mando'a.
Then, very slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head toward the padawan who had somehow managed to steal all of her blankets.
Really, it was her own fault.
She'd wondered more than once that day whether she might have been pushing Barriss too hard; the girl was only twelve years old, after all. But Barriss was nothing but earnest and bright, taking genuine pleasure in learning about the spiritual and political history of the Mirialan order. Luminara had known for years that she and Barriss were meant to be bound in the Force; her new padawan's insight and desire to learn today had only confirmed it. Responding to that came naturally, but perhaps she ought to have been more cautious.
Luminara had planned this retreat for three days intentionally. Tomorrow, now that they had arrived at the old temple, would be spent on a more focused exploration of why the spiritual history of their people was so important, and a chance to gauge how thoroughly Barriss herself wished to follow Mirialan tradition. The third day would be for meditation and reflection, and for going home. Today they had mostly spoken; Luminara had essentially been giving her padawan a history lesson, though Barriss' own thoughts and responses had been just as if not more important than the information she took in.
However, today had also consisted largely of travel—and that with a young girl who had never really traveled before. Physical conditioning at the Temple was all well and good, but she should have anticipated that Barriss would be mentally exhausted far before her body started to fatigue.
The physical exertion had been no joke, either. Hennam had taken them most of the way, but he had his own deliveries to make and the ascent to the old Mirialan retreat had been made on foot and via precarious leaps. Luminara had called the day when she realized Barriss was using the Force to politely suppress a growling stomach, and made a note to speak with her about the worrying habit tomorrow. The poor child had done her level best to eat slowly, but even something as simple as the hot soup Luminara had made them was apparently irresistible after a long day.
After ensuring Barriss received most of the soup—she was young and growing, she needed the energy far more than her master—Luminara had taken pity on her and sent her off to bathe and change. The retreat could perhaps be more accurately called a hermitage, and had very little in the way of power, but there was at least a water-heating unit. There had to be, in this region; otherwise the Mirialan order would all have died of hypothermia eons ago.
Her mistake, Luminara acknowledged to the ceiling, had been not bringing more blankets.
Despite Barriss' surprise upon arriving, Mirial was a very cold planet. It was much colder at this elevation, especially at night, and especially considering that the Shana Falls Temple was so named for its position above and partially behind one of the largest and tallest single melted-snow waterfalls in the galaxy. She had, effectively, bitten back an indulgent smile and bundled a twelve-year-old girl into bed in an open, drafty room of which one wall consisted entirely of ice water.
She really had no one to blame but herself.
Luminara brought her hands to her face and blew on her fingers, grateful she at least had socks. It wasn't nearly cold enough to be dangerous, even with the damp; if it had been she would never have brought Barriss here. It wasn't even really cold enough to be more than mildly uncomfortable. Provided one had access to covers of some description.
Barriss made an unhappy noise in her sleep from somewhere inside the blanket cocoon. Luminara sighed again.
The logical thing to do would be to wake her padawan and gently disentangle her from at least one blanket. The poor girl would be hideously embarrassed but there was no need to make a fuss over it, and it made no sense to lie awake freezing all night when two minutes would solve the problem.
Barriss gave another whimper and suddenly rolled over, face pressed into Luminara's arm. Luminara couldn't help but smile as she edged to her right. Barriss' forehead creased, and she wriggled to follow the warmth. For a moment she seemed about to wake up on her own and save Luminara the trouble; but the moment passed when she finally nuzzled up against her master's side with a little sigh. Her nose was slightly squashed against Luminara's ribs, but she wasn't shivering anymore.
The logical thing would be to wake her up.
Heaving one last sigh, Luminara raised a hand and called her cloak with the Force from where it was folded on the floor across the room. The fabric was cold just from the night air, but it would take her body heat soon enough. It was certainly better than nothing.
“Well, padawan,” she said quietly as Barriss let out little puffing breaths into her robes. “I'll see you in the morning.”
3
Barriss fiddled anxiously with a lukewarm cup of caf and forced herself not to check the time. All the chrono would be able to tell her would be that it was five minutes since the last time she checked.
She took a sip of rapidly-cooling caf just for something to do, and gagged. She didn't know how anyone drank this stuff. It made her entire mouth feel sour. Barriss turned the flimsy cup in her hands, which served her need to fiddle with something but didn't force her to try to choke down any of its contents. She felt a little guilty for making it; just last week Master Unduli had interceded when one of the farmers they were helping to settle a blood feud offered Barriss a mug of caf. She'd said her padawan was a little young for it, and Barriss had gotten some kind of thick sweet tea instead. She'd liked it very much and so hadn't thought anything of the exchange.
So she knew her master wouldn't approve, if she were here. But she wasn't here. That was rather the problem.
Barriss gave in and checked the time again. 02:36, ship's time. Four minutes since the last time she'd checked. She cupped her hands around her caf, trying to leech the last of its heat, and did her best not to worry. She wasn't very good at it.
It wasn't that she didn't think Master Luminara could handle herself. That was ridiculous. Barriss wouldn't really be able to make much difference anyway, if she were there. She was just a young padawan. But that didn't mean she wasn't allowed to worry.
They hadn't even expected to be given this mission. They'd been on their way home when they received it, after a successful assignment to a colony project with a cultural distrust of the government that had been trying to settle the feud. Barriss had found the protracted negotiations tiring and at times intensely frustrating, but in the end she had admitted to her master that there was a satisfaction from watching the peace unfold through such methods that was absent when a situation had to be resolved with force.
The transmission from the Temple had come through earlier that evening, or what passed for evening in hyperspace. Master Luminara had seemed only a little surprised to answer a holocall from Master Plo Koon, while Barriss had been flustered by unexpectedly being in the presence of a Council member—even if he wasn't really there—and had ducked her head and folded her hands behind her back and tucked herself behind her master.
She hadn't been hiding. She was just—it was a question of propriety.
Master Koon had said the Council needed her master to divert their course slightly to perform an extraction of a field team, but that was all Barriss knew because at that point Master Koon had paused and tilted his head, and the holo of him had rumbled, “Master Unduli.... how old is your apprentice?”
Upon hearing her age he'd hummed slightly and asked her master, carefully polite and with several pauses, if it might be better for Padawan Offee to remain on the corvette. “This particular extraction,” he'd said slowly, “may not be the most...appropriate... field mission. Not for a padawan so young.”
Her master, looking more amused at the circumstances than worried, had taken a shuttle down just before 2100 hours. Barriss had spent the time since then nervously trying to figure out what Master Koon might have meant. Surely if this mission was dangerous Master Unduli wouldn't have been so cheerful when she left? But then, Master Unduli wasn't scared of anything. Barriss had been worried enough about what might be going on that would make a Council member send a full Padawan out of the room rather than even tell her what was happening, and all her master had told her when Barriss asked for an explanation was that it was no place for her.
Master Unduli had instructed her, with a warm smile and a slight laugh, to meditate for half an hour and then sleep. She'd tried, really she had, and she knew she was disobeying by getting up and coming to wait in the common area so she'd know when her master returned, but it was better than lying in the dark and worrying.
Sometimes padawans were orphaned like this. Sometimes their masters were sent on missions too dangerous to bring along a young learner and they didn't come back. Barriss knew about the dangers of attachment, and she hoped that if the unthinkable ever happened she would bear it like a good Jedi. But that didn't mean the possibility of it happening to her wasn't scary.
She took a blind gulp of caf, and had to spit half of it back into the almost-full cup because her throat closed up around the awful taste and she couldn't swallow.
Her nails were leaving little crescent moons in the sides of the cup. She just wanted her master. She was tired and scared and wanted her master.
Seconds after she had the thought, she heard the clunk and pneumatic hiss of the doors to the landing bay opening at the end of the long hallway. Barriss jumped to her feet instinctively, then chided herself and the caffeine for the loss of control and sat back down again. She could hear people coming closer.
“Well,” said a voice she recognized as Master Kenobi's. “It's about time.”
“Patience has never been your strong suit.” And Barriss felt weak with relief as she finally heard Master Unduli's voice. “Nor is dancing, apparently.”
Master Kenobi's response was an accusation. “You were enjoying yourself, Luminara.”
“You tipped me!” Barriss blinked. Master Vos was here too? “I can't believe you tipped me!”
“Us. And stop complaining, it's your fault we're in this situation to begin with. I told you not to—”
“I feel used and objectified, Unduli. And I'm worth way more than ten credits!”
“You know, it would have taken five minutes to slip us out through the back.”
“What?” Master Luminara sounded equal parts amused and scandalized. “And compromise my cover?”
“Let me guess.” Master Kenobi again. They were close enough now that Barriss could hear footsteps, and she belatedly ran a hand over her mantle to check if she was at least mostly presentable. She was probably going to be in trouble either way. “The Temple will compensate the drinks?”
“Singular, Master Kenobi.”
“Yeah, Kenobi. The lady was just taking her time with it.”
“Oh, of that I have no doubt. And I don't know whose side you're on, Vos, but I'm really not convinced it was necessary to grab at my—”
“Whooooa there!”
Master Vos had just spotted Barriss. Barriss, unfortunately, had just spotted Master Vos. Barriss had in fact spotted significantly more of Master Vos then she ever wanted to.
There was a short silence, in which Barriss tried desperately to maintain eye contact.
“Oh, dear,” Master Kenobi said finally. “Luminara, I thought you said...”
“She was supposed to be,” Master Unduli sighed.
I'm sorry, Master, Barriss tried to say, and managed a strangled squeak.
Master Vos seemed unconcerned. “Fantastic,” he said, waving to Barriss cheerfully. “You made caf! Hey, Kenobi, you want some?”
“I'll pass, Quinlan.” Barriss thought Master Kenobi rubbed his eyes, but Master Vos had turned around to pour himself a cup of caf and she was fairly certain her brain had turned off visual processing out of survival instinct.
He was not, technically speaking, naked. But somehow he managed to be covered by even less sparkly pink fabric in the back than the front, and Barriss wanted to be somewhere else now very badly.
“You would not believe the past three days we've had,” Master Vos told her casually. “Turns out I might have had information of dubious quality about an address...lemme start from the top. There was this drug cartel, right—”
“Ahem.” Master Kenobi cleared his throat, and Barriss looked over at him desperately. He gave her a wry smile, arms folded across his bare chest. “Good morning, padawan. We appreciate your master taking the time to extract us...”
“See,” said Master Vos over the rim of his cup, leaning against the counter. “When you're dressed like that, that just sounds wrong.”
“Quinlan!”
“That's quite enough from both of you, gentlemen,” Master Luminara said loudly before they could start bickering. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Barriss...”
Barriss whispered, “Yes, Master?”
“I...” Luminara sighed again. “Go to bed.”
“Yes, Master!”
4
Just when Barriss was starting to worry that she'd made a mistake of some kind, the door finally opened.
“Master,” she said, dipping a polite curtsy to Luminara. “I'm sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Not at all, Barriss,” her master replied. Barriss looked up curiously; there could almost have been a hesitation there, but she was sure she had imagined it. “Is there something you needed?”
“It's nothing urgent, Master. You remember last week—the holocron you gave me permission to study?” This brought no reaction other than a blank nod, and Barriss resisted the urge to wring her hands anxiously. “I'm sorry, Master. You told me to come to you if I had any questions...”
After a moment Luminara finally gave her a tired smile. “Indeed. There's something troubling you?”
“I...yes, Master.” It was...well, it was embarrassing, having to admit this. It shouldn't have been, Barriss knew that; she'd only been Master Unduli's padawan for two years, she was just a student. She was expected not to know everything, and she didn't feel shame in having to ask questions. But that didn't mean she felt entirely comfortable with admitting to her master that she didn't understand something so fundamental. “I can't help but feel many of the lessons the holocron tries to teach are contradictory.”
Luminara's smile seemed more genuine this time, which eased some of Barriss' worry. “How so, padawan?”
Encouraged, Barriss folded her hands behind her back. “I'm confused,” she said, “about the nature of attachment. As Jedi we're encouraged to form connections to all living things...”
Something heavy fell over somewhere in Master Unduli's quarters. Barriss trailed off, frowning, and tried to see around her.
Luminara cleared her throat.
“Go on, Barriss.”
After a moment, Barriss shook herself. “I understand the difference between attachment and compassion, respect for history and life, but I don't understand how foregoing attachment can coexist with values like loyalty and reverence for the past—things that we're also told are part of being a Jedi.”
For a long moment, Luminara just looked at her. Finally she closed her eyes and sighed.
Barriss felt anxious again. “Master?”
Luminara shook her head. “Barriss, I apologize. I'm afraid trying to answer these questions now would do you a disservice.”
Barriss flushed. Maybe she really was just too young to understand, then. “I'm sorry, Master.”
“No.” The answer was soft and firm, as always, but came faster than usual. “I'm glad you're asking them, but it may be better if I were to meet you in two hours...” Barriss blinked; Luminara was usually so sure of herself. “Ah...somewhere else.”
Barriss offered hesitantly, “The courtyard, Master?”
Luminara inclined her head. “That would be ideal, padawan.”
Barriss suddenly felt foolish. “Master, I just remembered, I'm meant to have a history lesson in an hour and a half, Master Landala...”
Luminara held up a reassuring hand. “Will understand that your master asked to see you. I shall send em a message, if you like.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Barriss was still extremely confused, but she bowed dutifully and excused herself. She'd barely turned around before the door slid shut again.
Luminara leaned against the closed door and buried her face in her hands.
“Pardon me,” said Obi-Wan's muffled voice. “I presume we can come out now?”
“By all means, Master Kenobi.”
Her closet door opened, not without difficulty, and Quinlan tripped over Obi-Wan and tumbled to the floor.
“You know,” he told the ceiling. “Aayla never gives us this kind of trouble.”
Obi-Wan's hand groped along the closet door until he found a handhold that didn't move. “That's because she pays attention to you and does the exact opposite.”
“Hey,” Quinlan protested mildly. “Is it my padawan who has the worst timing in the galaxy?”
Luminara shot a reproachful look in the general direction of his voice. “Barriss has a right to my time, Master Vos.”
“Barriss needs a hobby,” he muttered under his breath.
“Vos,” said Obi-Wan warningly.
“What? She does!”
“It was very nice seeing you, Quinlan,” Luminara said pointedly. She regretted her phrasing somewhat when Quinlan finally sat up and smirked at her.
“Always a pleasure, huh?”
Luminara was spared the effort of rolling her eyes when Obi-Wan did it for her.
“You have my shirt,” he informed Quinlan irritably, throwing a wadded-up robe at his face. Quinlan tossed it aside.
“Yeah, well, Unduli's got mine.”
Ah yes. She'd been in something of a hurry. Really it was a miracle Barriss hadn't seemed to notice. She shook her head and pulled it off, tossing it back to Quinlan. Who didn't appear to be particularly interested in putting it back on.
“You know,” he said casually, “You did say two hours...”
Luminara pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Yes, thank you, Master Vos. I need to...meditate.”
“Sure you do—”
Quinlan was effectively silenced by Obi-Wan's hand clamping over his mouth.
“We'll leave you in peace,” he said, giving Quinlan the sort of exasperated glare he generally reserved for his padawan. “Vos, put on a shirt before I make you.”
5
Quinlan Vos woke to an urgent chirping, groaned, and managed to silence the comlink and detach the earpiece before it could beep a fourth time.
“Aayla?” he slurred.
“Master,” his former padawan replied urgently. “Tell me Luminara's there.”
Quinlan glanced over his shoulder. He was actually kind of surprised to find he wasn't alone; they didn't normally spend the night, to be honest. Well, Kenobi got cuddly sometimes, but Luminara was less of the type. “She's asleep.”
“Thank the Force. Don't wake her up. Western entrance, level nine landing bay.”
“Aayla, what's going on?”
“Get down here!”
“All right, all right,” Quinlan muttered. There was no living with this kid now that she'd been Knighted. “On my way, Master Secura.”
Five minutes saw him coming around a corner toward the level nine landing bay, which was entirely deserted.
“Huh,” he told the empty landing bay. “So...either someone kidnapped my padawan, or—”
“Master!” Aayla's voice hissed.
“There we go. What happened?”
Aayla gave him an uncharacteristically desperate look as he made his way up to the alcove she'd just poked her head out of.
“This,” she hissed, “Is your fault!”
“Hey!” He held up his hands. “What did I do this time?” Aayla narrowed her eyes at him, and he finally registered that there were actually three people in the alcove. The third was small, more rumpled than usual, and swaying slightly as she clung to Aayla's arm.
“Master Unduli,” Aayla whispered, “Is going to kill me!”
Barriss blinked slowly, frowned as if trying to remember something very important, then swayed violently again. Quinlan's eyebrows shot into his hairline.
“Aayla,” he said disapprovingly. “What were you thinking?”
The corner of Aayla's eye twitched.
“You asked me to—”
“I told you to get her out of the Temple for a few hours!” Quinlan hissed, glancing over his shoulder just in case the spectre of a tiny Mirialan Master had appeared without warning. “You were just supposed to keep her busy, Aayla!”
“That is not what you told me!” Aayla pried Barriss' fingers gingerly off her elbow. “You asked me to take a group of padawans out for the night and make sure she came with me as a personal favor! A group! Multiple!”
Quinlan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well,” he said. “I think I said something more about how it was traditional for a new Knight to, uh....their less experienced peers....as a...bonding experience...and Barriss needs to get out more, and, uh, give her Master a break...”
Aayla gave him the flattest look he'd ever seen.
“I read between the lines,” she said between her teeth.
Barriss was staring very hard at her feet, which had to be difficult if her glazed expression was any indication. Very carefully, she lifted one foot, took a step, and immediately fell forward. Quinlan cringed and grabbed at her with the Force before she could topple face-first onto solid marble. The last thing he needed was to give her back to Luminara tanked and concussed.
“What happened?” he demanded. “She's—what, fifteen?”
“Fourteen.”
“And they let her drink? What kind of place did you take them to? Do you remember the address?”
“Master!”
“What?” he said defensively. “Sometimes I like a drink without too many questions, it's not—” He was going to say “a crime”, but Aayla's expression made him backtrack hastily and continue “—relevant right now. Don't look at me like that. You said you'd watch her!”
“I was watching her! There were thirteen of them and she was causing the least trouble! I don't know what happened!” Aayla shot the little Mirialan a frantic look. Barriss had transferred to hugging a pillar, which was at least more solid than Aayla. Quinlan figured she was fine there for now. “One moment she was fine, and then I looked away and...”
“Well, see, that's what happens when you...” Aayla crossed her arms, and he decided not to finish that sentence. “What do you want me to do about it?”
He suspected from his former apprentice's glare that the honest answer was 'burn at the stake with me,' but at least Aayla was polite enough not to say it.
“Just help me get her to her quarters!”
Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want, Aayla. Hey, Barriss! Come on, kid. Let's go.”
Barriss, who may or may not have been actually responding to the sound of her name, turned slightly, overbalanced, and sat down heavily on the windowsill.
“Oh,” she mumbled to nothing in particular.
Quinlan sighed and took her under the elbow, inching her onto her feet.
“All right, Offee,” he muttered. Poor kid was confused, of course, and probably a little scared too. And he didn't envy the headache she'd have in the morning. “No worries. We're just gonna get you home and then aaaah.”
Quinlan Vos wasn't really the screaming sort. Still, the sentiment was there. So was Luminara, in the middle of the crossroads.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked quietly.
He ran some quick calculations. She hadn't seen the kid. He could tell her this was a Jedi Intelligence thing. She'd probably be able to tell he was lying but she was also probably polite enough to accept it, especially because he was talking to Aayla...
Sadly, Aayla was of a less dishonest nature. "No, Master Unduli,” she said in the voice of someone who has just been asked if they want a blindfold for their execution. Then, in a frantic undertone, “You said she was asleep!”
“She was asleep!” he whispered back. “It's 0300, normal people are asleep—!”
“Quinlan,” Luminara sighed as she came up the corridor. “What have you...”
There was a stutter in the Force as Luminara finally registered her padawan, humming quietly to herself and back to hanging on Aayla.
“Quinlan,” she said again, much less indulgently. “What have you done this time?"
They stared at each other for a second. Quinlan took a deep breath. Time to explain everything like a responsible and contrite Jedi Master.
He pointed at his former padawan. “Aayla's fault.”
Luminara glared at him over Aayla's indignant protests.
“I'm sure,” she said flatly. Her brow furrowed in concern as she took a step forward. “Barriss, are you all right?”
Aayla attempted to hand her over, which was difficult because when she tried Barriss dug her nails in and hid her face.
“They weren't supposed to give her anything intoxicating,” Aayla said apologetically. “I was watching her but I looked away and...”
Luminara sighed and ran a hand over Barriss' back, which made the girl hum happily. “What could they possibly have given her? She's a Jedi, surely one drink isn't anywhere near enough...”
Aayla looked pained. “I think she mixed her drink up with a Wookiee's.”
Luminara paused.
“Accidentally?”
“She was....a bit miserable, Master,” Aayla hedged. “It was loud, and very crowded. It's possible she was trying to ignore her surroundings.”
“Quinlan...” Luminara's voice was even and soft. “You sent my padawan to a nightclub.”
“Technically, I didn't—”
“Don't push your luck, Master,” Aayla muttered under her breath. He wasn't sure if she was warning him not to push Luminara, or threatening him. Probably both.
Barriss finally looked up from Aayla's bicep and brightened. “Master!”
Quinlan felt a small spike of relief from Luminara that at least her padawan was vaguely aware of her surroundings. “Yes,” she said kindly. “Come along, Barriss. I think that's quite enough excitement for one night.”
Barriss obediently took a step forward, and Luminara saw the disaster just in time to jump closer and let Barriss stumble heavily into her shoulder and cling there.
Barriss mumbled, “Master?”
Quinlan was prepared to hide behind Aayla at the look Luminara shot him, but she just sighed. “Yes, Barriss. It's all right, I'm here.”
“Mmm.” Barriss smiled. “You smell nice.”
“Yes, all right, Barriss.” She patted her padawan's head. “Can you walk?”
Barriss cocked her head thoughtfully, which in her current state was a legitimate feat of balance and coordination. “I don't know. I'd have to ask my master.”
Luminara sighed.
“You know,” Quinlan offered. “If it's any comfort, she's definitely not gonna remember any of this in the morning.”
There was a thud behind him that sounded almost exactly like a young Twi'lek banging her head against the wall.
+1
“Ahsoka,” Barriss breathed. “I'm not going to break.”
A huff of embarrassed laughter against her throat. “Tell me what you want,” Ahsoka mumbled, pressing a kiss under Barriss' jaw before coming back to brush her lips.
Barriss wound her arms loosely over Ahsoka's shoulders and kissed her.
“Improvise,” she said sweetly, and felt Ahsoka grin.
I used to be taller than you, Barriss thought, not for the first time and not without a hint of petulance. But it wasn't as if she was complaining, really. Especially not when Ahsoka's hands finally moved from resting softly on Barriss' waist to do something more interesting. Gentle pressure on the small of her back guided her closer, just that little bit, and then—carefully, still giving her time to stiffen or pull back if she wanted to, because Ahsoka was like that—a warm hand curled around the back of her neck and pulled her in the rest of the way.
Barriss' breath caught against her mouth, from relief more than anything, but Ahsoka's hold still started to loosen in response and Barriss moved one hand to grip at her back lek before she could pull away completely.
It was rare enough that they were in the Temple at the same time, rarer still that they had the time or energy for anything but trying to catch up on paperwork while in the same room, and oh, Barriss wanted her—
Warm and wonderful as she might be, not even Ahsoka's nails rasping gently over the back of her neck were anywhere near distracting enough for Barriss' eyes not to fly open in a panic when the door slid aside.
There were a series of crashes, which she was peripherally aware of, but most of her mind was somewhat occupied.
Barriss was going to die.
She accepted this.
Not only did she accept it as her inevitable fate, in fact, she would rather have liked it to get a bit of a move on.
There was a long, tinny sound as Barriss stared at her master and a droid gear rolled slowly and noisily across the floor and out the open door.
Master Unduli raised one eyebrow.
“Barriss,” she said mildly. “Padawan Tano.”
Very calmly, she walked halfway down one of the shelving systems, opened a drawer, and took out a holoemitter. Barriss thought that her master seemed to be trying valiantly to suppress a smile as she put the device in her pocket and walked back out the door.
She paused just over the threshold, with one hand still in the door to keep it open, and glanced over her shoulder. For a long moment she just looked at Barriss, silently. Then she flicked her gaze to Ahsoka—who, Barriss realized when she darted a glance into the corner, looked even more terrified than she was.
The single eyebrow quirked again, and the corner of Luminara's lips twitched.
“As you were, padawans.”
The door slid shut, Barriss' life flashed behind her eyes, and after a pointed moment, the lock clicked.