Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Coruscant, Coruscant System

Corusca Sector

The sun was rising over Coruscant, twilight’s gloom lingering over a new day upon the bleak, gasping heart of the Republic. It was once thought that even amidst the greatest conflict the galaxy had seen in a millenia, the blazing soul that was Coruscant never faltered in her relentless march onwards.

They were proven wrong. For the first time in one thousand years, her relentless march had faltered.

Coruscant was dying.

It has been a month since Coruscant was struck by a freak storm from Foerost, and the world has yet to recover. Coruscant Prime, their system’s feeble star, was little more than a whimpering white spark over their heads, like a flickering street lamp on a rainy night. Because Coruscant’s orbital mirrors that once reflected and amplified her sun’s paltry strength, were gone, shattered to a fine crystal mist that traversed the overcast sky, catching what little daylight there was left and refracting it into an ephemeral aurora, lit ablaze as it descended through the atmosphere, one layer at a time.

A shadow over Barriss’ head, and what might have once been day in the Senate District was suddenly engulfed in a nocturnal gloom. The planet’s industrial arcologies were still churning out smoke and ash in an endless cycle of activity to manufacture new construction materials to repair the damage Galactic City had sustained. The raiders had focused on bombarding military sites such as the Coruscant Flight Academy, Clone Barracks, and the Centre for Military Operations, but when those targets were built upon an accumulated millennia of subterranean infrastructure, there was no limiting the damage done.

There had to be permacrete to rebuild the shipyards, and duracrete for the arcologies. There had to be I-beams for the structural supports. There had to be transparisteel and clari-crystal to fix the shattered facades of glittering skyscrapers. And there had to be an endless amount of them to restore Coruscant to her former glory.

Even if that meant killing what’s left of the sun.

Barriss breathed out. Mist escaped from her lips.

It was cold.

There were no seasons on Coruscant. Her orbital mirrors had always ensured the right temperature and climate globally, all-year round. But they were gone now. And now winter has been introduced to a world with no seasons, one that might never end.

The grief was nearly unbearable. Living on the surface, one may forget that they were walking and talking over the heads of billions, trillions of souls trapped in the Underworld, one-hundred thousand years of accumulated civilization. With power shortages and rolling blackouts thrashing even the rich cityscape above, how must they be living below, with neither heat nor light? Suffocating to death was more likely, and it would be a mercy.

The grief was unbearable. It was a chill, constant presence that clung to her skin like frost. It poured out from the smokestacks in the industrial parks, snuck its way through the cracks in broken tiles, and screamed through the underworld shipping portals, hoping for anybody to listen. It was present on Atraken, it was present over Columex, and it was present on Coruscant. That was war. It brought grief to all, without reprieve. To fight for either side was to make grief your trade, and the galaxy your market.

Barriss breathed out again. She tried to catch the mist curling from her lips, but it escaped through her fingers.

The grief was unbearable, and it was screaming. And everybody pretended not to hear. It was easier to curse the flickering candle, wilfully ignorant of those who lived in complete darkness.

Barriss stood in the centre of the training grounds, surrounded by ornate tiling and wilting leaves of ashen gold. The ancient tree that stood there was once a comfortable presence, for all who called the Jedi Temple their home, but to Barriss, it was a sad, lonely thing. The only one of its kind for leagues around. It was dying now, too, along with Coruscant. Along with the Jedi Order.

“Barriss,” a familiar voice awoke her from her self-induced reverie, one she had thought she would give everything to hear again, “How long have you been here?”

“Master Luminara,” Barriss now felt nothing but a kindling of relief that her Master was alive and well, “It eases me greatly to find you in fine health.”

“As do I, Barriss.”

A silence lingered. It has been a year since Barriss last saw her Master, and there were too many things to say, so much so that they lodged in her throat and refused to come out.

“...I’m sorry,” Master Luminara said finally, honestly. The wind was biting, but neither of them noticed, “I know you think I failed you. I cannot blame you. I think so too. There is no need for words at this time. Maybe our relationship will never be the same again... but let it be known I have never been prouder.”

“I kept your teachings close to heart, Master,” Barriss wanted to cry, but her eyes remained stubbornly dry. Maybe that was a good thing. “I return thanks to them.”

“No...” the Jedi Master murmured, “Give thanks to the Force. Welcome back.”

Barriss bowed her head, and for a brief moment the wind could not reach her, “I admit myself back under your tutelage, Master.”

When she raised her head again, she found her Master smiling, a mix of pride and sadness.

“The Council wishes to speak to you, Barriss.”

That was neither affirmation, nor denial. Returning into the warm embrace of the Jedi Temple, Barriss was once again struck by the sense of unfamiliarity. The Temple she returned to was the same as the Temple she left. The once vibrant halls were now empty, and the few Jedi who remained drifted through the galleries and chambers like ancient ghosts, absorbed in their own worlds. Their footsteps echoed loudly.

“The Temple...” she murmured, unable to hold it in.

“Fewer and fewer Jedi remain with each passing day,” Master Luminara folded her arms into her robes, “Despite our every attempt to distance ourselves from the war, it drags us right back in. Every time we suffer a defeat, Strategic Command demands more Jedi Generals to make up for our losses. Every time we win a great victory, Strategic Command demands more Jedi General to maintain our successes. With our reputation already leery, we cannot afford to say no. And with the rest of us preoccupied aiding relief efforts across Coruscant, including facilitating the evacuation crisis in the northern and southern poles... this is the result.”

“Then the Council... what does the Council want from me?”

Master Luminara craned her head upwards, admiring the frescoes dancing across the ceiling. Barriss caught a glimpse of the interlocking diamond tattooed on her Master’s chin, wondering if there were now more of them. There didn’t look to be. In Mirialan culture, each tattoo signified a major achievement. She lightly touched her own tattoos, inked across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose.

Her elder Mirialan noticed, as she always did; “It’s been some time since I have held a needle, but you have earned new ones.”

Master Luminara dodged her question again, yet answered it more clearly than she ever could. In all honesty, Barriss found herself unsure if she was worthy, or even ready, for what was to come.

The turbolift ride was agonisingly long. With every rumble of the carriage, the screaming in her ears faded just little more. And by the time the two of them stood in the middle of the High Council Chamber, surrounded by the pinnacle of Jedi Masters, towering above even the skyline of Coruscant...

I can’t hear the screaming anymore.

It was muted. As if the world had been muffled by something deep and unfathomable, and... pervasive; like a sudden plunge into an infinite sea, and cold, salty water clutching the skin. This... is this the ‘peace’ and ‘serenity’ the Jedi Code imposes? Has it always been this way? Then I want no part of it any longer.

How could she? How could she willingly deafen herself so uncomfortably, and shut herself away from reality like a child in tantrum?

She blinked, and looked around. The first person to catch her eye was the towering figure of Anakin Skywalker, who had obviously just emerged from a heated conversation with the Council. Then was the Council themselves. Of the twelve Masters at the start of the war, nine were left. Of the three now with the Force, Barriss had personally witnessed the departure of one of them. Master Oppo Rancisis’ seat was now inhabited by Master Stass Allie, the second Tholothian on the Council, following Master Adi Gallia. And similarly to Master Gallia, Master Allie was not known for any outstanding combat techniques, but rather her political and diplomatic prowess, making her suited not so much for the frontline as the Senate Building.

Barriss took it as a sign of the times, and evidence of where the Jedi Order’s current priorities lay.

“I bring my Padawan as requested, Master Yoda,” Master Luminara bowed as she shuffled back.

Master Luminara sighed, though Barriss could sense a tingle of silent agreement emanating from her poise. Master Kenobi, on the other hand, sighed laboriously.

“Anakin...”

“No,” Master Windu stood slowly, gaze digging into her’s, “Despite his callous retort, Skywalker may be correct in this instance. It is simply a bad feeling of mine, that this decision may come to harm the Republic. The decision of the Force, and the Council, is known. Barriss Offee will be knighted.”

Wordlessly, one by one, the remaining eleven Jedi Masters rose out of their seats, and moved by some invisible force, Barriss knelt without being ordered. Master Luminara’s and Master Skywalker’s presence disappeared from her mind as the chamber was clouded by the Force.

Twelve lightsabers ignited.

Master Yoda’s brilliant green blade lowered towards her shoulder.

“Barriss Offee,” the Grand Master’s words echoed through the Force, “By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, dub thee I do, Jedi Knight.”

Once, the Knighting of a Padawan Learner was a more ceremonious ritual, and could take days, beginning with a long vigil. These days, Barriss could imagine more Knights were made on the battlefield than in the Temple, otherwise the High Council would be doing nothing but knighting Padawans all day.

As she stood on weak knees, Master Plo Koon wasted no time in moving on; “Let us deliberate your next assignment, Knight Offee. We need not explain to you that we have a dire need for more hands.”

“I would request for us to be assigned together,” Master–no longer her Master, simply ‘Jedi Master’–Luminara’s tone was intricate, and serenely impenetrable, “But I will be returning to the front, and you have made your mind known on that matter.”

“You were trained as a healer were you not?” Master Stass Allie asked her kindly, “If you wish, you can come with me to the Circle of Jedi Healers. We need healers now more than we do battlemasters, despite what Master Piell claims.”

It was an enticing thought, after all she would not be fighting a war she wanted nothing with, and instead helping those who suffered because of it. A year ago, she would have accepted, as for what other reason did she decide to learn the healing arts? But the situation was different. She was cursed with knowledge that there was a truth hidden from everyone. Sitting out of the war would be just as terrible as participating in it, when she had the chance to at least try to end it.

No. Barriss had a plan. A plan she had been creating ever since Atraken. She had to be assigned somewhere she wouldn’t be just another cog in the machine. Somewhere she had access to information. Somewhere she would have the power to actually uncover the hidden truth.

“You have somewhere in mind, Barriss?” Master Plo Koon stared intently at her.

Master Plo was the one who brought her back to Coruscant. He likely already knew her answer.

“...I wish to be assigned to Republic Intelligence,” she announced.

The ensuing boil of surprise and consternation was a bit more damning than she had expected to feel, despite expecting the response beforehand. The only Councilmember, who appeared even a bit pleased was Master Adi Gallia, and even then it edged more on the end of amusement than any positive reaction. Master Luminara continued being impenetrable, and Barriss didn’t feel any bit more Knightly in her presence, while Master–she probably shouldn’t call him Master from now on–Skywalker released a snort of dry admiration.

“Are you sure you have what it takes, Barriss Offee?” Master Gallia asked, her amusement bleeding away into seriousness, “Many would claim, rightly so, that the Jedi Order’s cooperation with Republic Intelligence is the largest sign of the corruption of our ethics. And despite that, you who had so blatantly espoused our failures, wish to partake in it?”

Adi Gallia. Her name was surrounded by rumours, even back when Barriss was still a mere Jedi Initiate. Master Gallia has ties to the Coruscanti elite. Master Gallia controls a secret intelligence agency. It was all speculation borne from anonymity. Nobody knew who Adi Gallia was. She was not surrounded by legends and great achievements, like Master Windu or Master Kenobi. She has simply slid into the Jedi Order as if she had always meant to be there. Nobody knew her age, not truly, because Tholothians were ageless.

She was an ace pilot that Barriss knew. Master Gallia commanded the starfighter wings over Geonosis and Christophsis in the beginning of the war, but after what happened at Christophsis... Barriss has since learned that Master Gallia had been summoned back to Coruscant to apply her political and diplomatic skills towards salvaging the worsening situation closer to home.

If she wanted to be attached to Republic Intelligence, Master Gallia was who she needed to convince.

“I am sure, Master Gallia,” Barriss reaffirmed, “I understand what I am getting into. I survived this long in Separatist space. I know how they think. I can help end the war.”

“Bold words,” Master Allie said severely, “But are you truly prepared to have your hands stained?”

Barriss hearkened back to her time at Atraken.

“They already are.”

“Barriss...” Master Luminara said her name softly, but nothing more.

“Trust me, Master.”

“I do,” the elder Mirialan paused, “But you no longer need my trust. I will support your decision.”

“Is it just me, or do Padawans these days have way more guts...?” Master Skywalker wondered out loud.

“Barriss has decided, Adi,” Master Plo Koon turned his head, “You are in charge of overseeing the Temple’s attachés and liaisons with Republic Intelligence. What is your decision?”

Master Gallia contemplated for a while, before coming to her decision, “Very well. It’s hard enough recruiting, we won’t turn down a volunteer. We shall discuss this at a later date. Don’t worry; I will find you when you are ready.”

She felt no elation for it. Just a grim satisfaction that she had taken another step forward in her self-given quest. Her ear tingled, and she instinctively brought up her arm to brush against it. Ah... it’s coming back. It was as if a bubble within her ears had popped, and the vibrancy of sound was returning to the Tower, to her. I can hear it again, that roar of suffering. It was proof of life. It was a sign from the Force. It must be. It meant she was on the right path.

Barriss bowed, “Thank you, Master.”

“Rest, you must,” Master Yoda told her kindly, “Long, your trials have been. Much more work there is, to be done.”

Barriss avoided acknowledging Master Windu as she bowed and turned back to the door. After all, that odd weight in her robes was weighing much more heavily now. Crossing the threshold with Master Luminara and Anakin Skywalker beside her, she discretely reached into her cloak to grab it. It was small, unassuming, disguised like any ordinary comlink, and fitted squarely in the palm of her hand.

It is simply a bad feeling of mine, that this decision would come to harm the Republic.

Master Windu truly is terrifying. He was the only one who realised... ah, she was getting ahead of herself. What did Barriss, a Knight of a few minutes, know of any of the inner processes of vaunted Jedi Masters? Perhaps they all realised, but only Master Windu saw fit to air his concerns. But that was fine, because this was not the Republic she knew. This was the Republic anybody knew, no matter how one might try to convince themselves.

As they retreated from the Council Chambers, the thrum in her ears only intensified.

Neither Jedi beside her made any action to signify they noticed it too. None of the Councilmembers did, either. She carefully observed them, their faces, their expressions imprinted in the Force. She wanted so desperately validation, proof she was not the only one. Did none of them hear it? The thought frightened her more than she would be willing to admit. Because it could only mean the Jedi has fallen further than she thought, and that she was more alone than she realised.

Barriss silently lamented.

Why can’t any of you hear the screaming too?