Jedi Padawan Quest (Star Wars)

XII: Wounds


The Hall didn't look any different. Of course it didn't, why would it? Ahsoka had risked her life, could have been hurt as badly as Anakin or worse, but this was a war, and so there was no special light, no change of mood. There was, in fact, nothing at all to indicate that anything untoward had happened.

Nima had had another dream. Her mother was frowning, talking to another Twi'lek. The other Twi'lek, a woman at work, Nima somehow knew, was light red, and talkative. They were talking about some other person.

Nima woke up not knowing who they were talking about. She wondered what Anakin would do if she told him

She'd only met Anakin twice, but already she was starting to understand him. He'd probably do something, he'd feel required to act, and he'd hope she felt the same. And she just might, in time. Another thing that was blindingly obvious: he not only didn't like to lose, but he'd take something like his defeat at Jabiim hard. The battle was all but lost by the time he arrived, it was hard to imagine it turning around from where rumors had placed it before his arrival. But he'd been in charge of the battle, he had been the General whose ultimate decision it was to leave Republic loyalists behind.

If the Holonet had been covering the battle, Nima couldn't even imagine the reaction. Nima didn't know what to think of that, really. There was much she couldn't possibly know, and yet the Jedi Order existed to protect the galaxy, and that certainly included citizens of the Republic. In fact, to the average citizen of the Republic, it especially included them. To let them die to save clones?

If they knew about Anakin's decision, how could they do anything except condemn him? There was no other choice, really. Even Master Bell…

Nima didn't know what Master Bell would think about such a problem, about such a situation. All sentients were sentients, and yet, was there a difference between combatants and non-combatants?

She realized that these were exactly the questions she was supposed to be answering, and that was the first thing she'd realized before she'd even started to walk to where she knew Anakin was.

She couldn't confront him. She didn't know what she would have done in his situation, perhaps nobody would have been saved if someone like her had been there. She didn't know. Nima Tyruti had no way to truly judge him without feeling like a hypocrite.

She'd paced and thought about what she'd do. She wished she were sure. Solutions presented themselves now, to a girl who hadn't lived through the fight and didn't know the exact circumstances.

She had answers, but they didn't matter much. Instead, she thought about the women and children that might have been with the loyalists. She wondered what had happened after Anakin left Jabiim.

None of this she could say. None of this she could hint at, she realized, as she passed Master Kenobi, pacing outside the room. His shoulders were tense, and the worry all but rolled off him in waves, unable quite to be held back even by the skillful Jedi Master. Yet he couldn't, or wouldn't, say anything. Not yet. He was scoping out the territory, perhaps. He was planning, and certainly Master Kenobi was known to be quite the planner.

Nima walked by him, stopping in front of one of the infirmary rooms, in which a human healer, short and ashen-skinned, was walking away with a look of annoyance on her face.

Beyond her was Ahsoka, out of bed but still wearing the white gown of a patient, standing next to Scout.

Anakin, in bed, didn't look much worse for wear, other than that there were a few whiskers on his chin. He must not have had time to shave. But he was covered in bandages, and she was sure there were injuries she couldn't see.

Standing by his bedside was Ayguin, and Nima instantly understood everyone's roles. Ahsoka was trying to cheer Anakin up, while Scout, from her frown and her body language, was clearly just trying to make sure Ahsoka was alright.

Meanwhile, Ayguin was there to try to coax Anakin to comply with the treatments. The healer was too authoritative, and so perhaps Ayguin could ask and get Anakin to play along.

And Nima's?

She was the one concerned about everyone else. It was a small room, but bright and cheery if you didn't have a reason to look in the Force and feel all of those doubts, all of those questions and concerns. They added up, and she could feel the emotions clashing and mixing, trying to gain dominance.

As if they were alive.

Nima cleared her throat slightly as she stepped up towards Ahsoka. "Ahsoka!"

"Hey, Nima," Ahsoka said. "You started two-saber, right? That's what Scout was telling me."

"I… did," Nima said, glancing over at Anakin.

He looked away, his face coloring slightly. Which only helped, because he looked strikingly pale otherwise, and his every movement seemed slow and cautious, as if he were feeling his way across a swift stream that at any moment could sent him flat on his face.

"Well, very good! We should duel. Master Skywalker, perhaps once you have a few more days of recovery, you could--"

Anakin glanced away, and said, with very little humor, "Tomorrow, Snips. I'll be up to train tomorrow." It sounded like he was forcing each word through lips that were not cooperating.

"Can you please think about it," Ayguin said, quietly. The girl looked as if she had lost a little bit of weight, when she was already thin. There was stress, in having to deal with what she did, and Nima hadn't been able to go out with her to lunch as often as she'd wanted. Making sure she ate was important, and she felt remiss in her duties as a friend.

"What? Head-shrinking?" Anakin asked, with a roll of his eyes. "I'm fine. It's just a few injuries, and I'll just work 'em out." But he sounded less certain than that.

Ahsoka sighed. "So, Nima, what brings you here?"

"Just worried about… everyone." Well, it was the truth. She tried not to flush, and instead nodded.

"Ah, right," Anakin said. "You should be outside with Master Kenobi. He's clearly worried about how long I'm going to take to get up and going too."

"No, of course he isn't," Ayguin said.

"You can feel it in the Force," Anakin declared.

Nima could feel the anger, the slight taste of doubt that only seemed to spur him onwards. It was a strange mix of emotions, outward and inward at the same time. "He's worried," Nima said. "But that doesn't mean that he wants you to get out of bed too early."

"There's a war on… you're Nima, right?" Anakin asked.

"There is," Nima admitted. "But… you're in the Temple now."

"For now."

"Even if you're getting out of bed already, you could take it easy? Maybe just walk laps, or recover your strength?" Ayguin bargained.

"Or I could go see if Fy-Tor-Ana has one of those courses," Anakin said, thoughtfully.

Nima winced. Even in perfect health it was the kind of course that took a lot out of her and left her a little tired for a day or two later. "They're pretty rough. I went through one a few days ago."

"How'd you do?" Anakin asked.

"She won! Scout told me. First place. And she usually gets in the top ten," Ahsoka bragged, as Nima tried not to look like she was part of that.

Humility was key, she thought. She was improving. "Well… recently."

"Do you dream of getting first place more often?" Anakin asked. He made it sound casual, and yet Nima wasn't a fool. She heard exactly what he wanted her to hear, and she stiffened a bit.

"I hope I will," Nima said, trying to come across as a little bit neutral, as if she weren't aware of things. "It was pretty interesting, and I think she's only going to make them harder as we go along."

"Harder and harder," Anakin said, "Makes it perfect. Though. She never had rainstorms in her obstacle courses."

Nima winced, "Please, don't give her ideas."

That actually got a smile out of Anakin. At last.

"Alright, I need to go take this paperwork down," Ayguin said. "Would you walk with me, Nima?"

*******

Nima let out a long, low breath as they walked. "So, what's his prognosis?"

"He's mostly healed, maybe a week or two more to get over all the aches and pains. But there's something psychosomatic about his condition, or at least that part's making it worse. He's bluffing, did you notice that?"

"Yes, I did. What's psychosomatic?" Nima asked.

"Some of it is in his head. He's making the pain hurt worse, or something like that. But he won't accept it, nor does he want to talk to one of our Healers who works with minds. I think he's afraid."

"Of what?" Nima asked.

"Maybe what they'll see? He did leave those people behind. I… can't make him less guilty about that. And what if he deserves to feel a little guilty for doing what he did? "

"You're here, and not there," Nima said quietly. "But I know what you mean. He clearly doesn't want to be questioned, or have to deal with that. I do worry about Ahsoka. She has to go where he does, right?"

"He can leave her at the Temple," Ayguin said, quietly. "Scout's Master left her there, before Geonosis."

Nima had never been there, and yet she could picture the scorching sands and the hot, blinding sun, the misery and the chaos. They'd gone in there trying to rescue hostages, and it'd turned into a massacre the likes of which every disaster afterwards would be compared against. Storm-struck Jabiim was nothing like Geonosis, and yet there had already been comparisons.

There always would be.

Nima nodded, "And he won't accept help?"

"No. And we can't force him. Incidentally, have you given any thought to learning more about psychology and Force techniques?" Ayguin asked.

"I… yes, actually. I might have time to at least practice some of that."

"Good. Then I have a list of holo-books you could read. There's about a dozen, and they'll help grant you a decent grounding in… what, Nima?"

"Can't I just use the Force? I mean, I just feel out how people feel," Nima said.

"What if it's a species you've never seen?" Ayguin asked, softly. "I know that your care and attention are useful and powerful, but a little knowledge never hurt."

Nima would have protested, at least a little, but she was already going to be in the Archives, so why not research something else. "What can you do, with it?"

"The Mind Probe technique is spoken of, not done, because the real effects are… pretty dangerous. You can't read minds, not really, but you can get a feel for emotions, and if you're tuned into someone's emotions, then when you ask them questions, you can tell what they really feel. Plus, you can begin to sense the broad ways a mind conflicts. In terms of healing it, it's possible to touch someone and transfer a little mental strength, a bit of comfort, via the Force. But it's very difficult. I learn what I can, if it's to help people.." Ayguin was clearly in full lecture mode.

Nima liked that, she liked when someone was confident enough to be willing to share things like that, to be able to hold forth.

"So I start by trying to understand minds in order to change them?" Nima asked.

"That's how it's been described to me." Ayguin shook her head as they rounded the corner. "You can't make major changes, or even be sure of anything. Is a person angry because someone he loved died, because he's in pain? Is she sad because of depression or something entirely chemical or because of life issues?"

Nima thought of her mother. What had happened to her?

"I understand," Nima said. Each sentient was an individual, so of course it was hard to always tell what they were thinking, what they knew. "Are you good at it?"

"No. I'm really not," Ayguin admitted, a little shyly. "But I thought you could be, so that's why I'm talking to you. I'm not much of a teacher, but I can get you started."

"Do you think Anakin's going to be alright?" Nima asked. Though of course she couldn't use her powers on him, even if she'd figured out how to help minds. It'd be, at the very least, unethical. But she thought about all the people she could help… even in the middle of a mission.

It was something she wanted, something she wanted enough that she was willing to grab for it.

The light came from up above and cast itself down, the quiet babble of people hid emotions and worries, she felt it all and knew, in that moment, that she needed to learn to help minds, to do more. It wasn't enough to just be strong, though she was still working on that, though the work had slowed with the project she knew she had to get to. She had to be more than that.

"I think he's a fighter. He's going to go back out there and keep on doing his best," Ayguin said. "But we need to try to do our best to make sure he's ready, too, and he's not really cooperating."

"I'm sorry," Nima said.

"What, did you make him grumpy and hurting?" Ayguin asked.

"No, but I'm sorry anyways."

"That's just like you," Ayguin said, softly. Fondly. "Never change, Nima."

"I hope that I do," Nima replied, as they finally reached the station to turn in the report. "I'm far from perfect."

*******

Through the main wooden double-doors was the entirety of the Jedi Archives, and then below it, the Jedi Library, which held books more directly Force-related, rather than simply tinged with the knowledge of the Force. A person could spent their entire lives studying it, and indeed there were stations with EduCorps members standing by to answer any questions. Of course there was a Chief Librarian, but as busy as the Archives got at times, they were its chief workers.

It was Jedi-Order-Only, but they sometimes allowed workers to peruse some parts of the Archives, and there had been a very few times in the past where some allied or friendly scholar was able to go to search for something, though always with supervision.

Most of what was in here was safe, and even what wasn't was locked off or carefully watched. The whole place had a lovely meditative feeling, as she walked in, moving quickly through it. It was the color scheme, the blues and browns, the dark, quiet way that the whole Archive managed to be vast but uncluttered. She brushed past EduCorps workers as they put back any datasheets that were left out.

She walked past busts of Yoda, of Dooku, of people great for all sorts of reasons, some of them worthy of 'and terrible' being added to them. She thought that the first place to look, before going down into the Jedi Library where no doubt Katarina was meditating over the wisdom of the past, was the First Hall.

It was very close by, banks and banks and banks of holobooks, which could also be accessed remotely from several side-stations.

Cho was at one of them, frowning and making notes.

Nima could tell who was there to work and who was there to look. The people who were looking might take an old Master's journal of a mission and listen to it in a side-station, or read through a book at random.

But the people who were researching took a dozen and found a table, of which there were several near the back of the Hall.

Then they worked their way through them, because of course it took too much time to simply keep on getting up. So she moved through the hall, trying to think of where to really begin. Yet she couldn't really think about what she was supposed to be looking up. She should go over towards where the philosophy was, rather than the accounts, but instead she lingered, sweeping this way and that, her movements a little slow and tired. She was sore from another day of practice, and there were a lot of books to read already.

Ayguin was a harsh taskmistress.

But Nima appreciated it.

"What?" a voice said. A very familiar voice. One of the two figures confronting each other was a short, somewhat soft looking human woman in the robes and badge of an EduCorps assistant.

If one couldn't become a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, EduCorps was an option. They helped out here, but they also went around the galaxy to teach in places where there usually wasn't the option of education. They did good work, Master Bell always said. Education was even rarer and more valuable than food in this galaxy, since at least with the food it was all about apportioning it. There was certainly enough for everyone to eat, even if it was a huge galactic population to feed.

The other person was, of course, Hannah. Her blue-green hair was a little shorter than Nima was used to. She was clearly furious, and yet Nima was curious and drifted closer.

"So I can't just download the voices and listen to them in my room? It's a closed system, that's basic comms-management," Hannah said, a phrase that almost made Nima wince, since of course Hannah knew…

Wait, there was a question. How had Hannah managed to get the secret comms channel working? It wasn't easy, was it?

"Yes, it is," the woman said.

"G-9X for the library, right, I couldn't do anything but read it or listen to it if I tried."

"You don't understand," the woman said. "We do allow a limited number of audio or visual mission logs to be taken out of here, but there's a hold."

"A… hold? Really?" Hannah asked, frowning. Her look said that heads were going to roll, and Nima almost walked away, except she had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.

"On your account. You aren't allowed to take documents out of this library. You can read all you want here, but until the hold clears, that's all, I'm sorry to say," the woman said. She didn't sound that sorry. She mostly sounded a little tired, and it was true that it had been a long day.

Hannah clenched her fists, and stomped a foot down as she turned on her heels, clearly barely fighting the temper-tantrums that she'd used to have when she was just a young girl. They trained people out of those quite quickly and effectively. So she didn't do that. Instead, she stormed over to where the holoreaders were.

Nima, after a moment's indecision, followed her.

It was very obvious that this was a punishment, something that Nima caused to happen to Hannah. It was even one that made a certain kind of sense: if she was being lax and loose with data and security, who was to say what else she was lax with?

Yet Hannah had a paper to write, and a presentation that she'd be eventually giving, just like Nima. This wasn't fair, it should at least be lifted for that. Nima turned, before she went, and looked at the person.

If Nima remembered right her name was Crysten. "She has a project to do," Nima said. "Are you sure you can't find a way…"

"Listen, I know it's rough. But your friend will have the hold removed sooner or later," Crysten said, and this time she did sound apologetic.

Nima's friend. Now that was an amusing idea. It was also an idea that sent a roil in Nima's stomach. She really shouldn't feel like that, feel guilty. Even if she'd done something for the wrong reasons, her actions were right and Hannah wasn't a good person. She was someone who despite most of her life in the Jedi Temple still didn't value it, and still clung to ideas and mindsets that weren't very popular among the Jedi. Or in fact the Republic at large.

For one, Nima had seen it herself. Seen moments where Hannah had to keep from just making blanket assumptions about Twi'leks, or about Wookiees. She caught herself, she was aware that the kinds of things she was sometimes hinting at, about certain citizens being more… of the Republic than others was nonsense. And it was outsider nonsense, considering that the Temple itself was the farthest thing from a bastion of human supremacy.

Nima didn't know what else would explain all of Hannah's attitude except that, and it disgusted her when she thought of it.

So maybe she should have turned away. Certainly, she knew she wouldn't be greeted pleasantly, even though she had an idea to help Hannah.

At her seat, Hannah was clearly working her way into an even more foul mood. It was almost bad enough to check Nima's approach. But she persisted, sitting down across from her and then looking up.

Hannah blanched, and her face twisted, squinting and drawing itself together as if it were retreating. "Nima," Hannah said, filling the word with plenty of spite, and more than a little bit of weariness.

"Hannah, I heard what she said," Nima said.

"Yes. You did. Why else would you be here? No doubt you want some gossip."

"Gossip already…" Nima began, but just the thought of mentioning what she knew about Hannah's downfall would be, at the very least, a mistake. "Nevermind. But I want to help you."

"You. Want to help me? You pity me?" Hannah asked.

Nima did. But she could feel something in Hannah, something like the fault lines of her heart. Her emotions were roiling and uncontrolled, and yet within them was a single sliver of hope. It wasn't that Nima knew exactly what to do, but after a moment she knew what she wanted to say. "I do want to help you. I'd also like it if you could help me. A trade," Nima said. "I'm lost and trying to figure out how to start the paper, and I figured that asking how you intended to would help. I'm not going to steal your ideas. You know we'll probably wind up disagreeing, anyways."

"Vehemently," Hannah said, almost savoring the word, her voice nasty, even cruel. "Well, it's smart of you to recognize reality. Sure, maybe. What are you doing for me?"

"I… could order and download some of it myself, and then transfer it to you."

"Ha. You think you can do that? You really are a… what?"

Nima was just looking straight at Hannah. "I know a clone trooper who can probably figure out how to make the G… whatnot able to transfer." Nima was sure that Lark would be willing to help, and if it was just between those two data devices, then it wasn't a threat at all to Temple security.

"Alright, fine. So, ask away," Hannah said. Her smile and the way she was acting said it all. It was the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes, but did tell its own stories. In the Force, Hannah's desire to show up Nima, to prove that she wasn't as smart as Hannah, was practically being screamed out at the top of her lungs. She had to know that Nima could sense it, which meant that she didn't care.

Her own suffering was the bait for a trap that Nima couldn't help but step into.

"Why are you looking up accounts from Jedi? I assume it has to do something with the war, but…" Nima began.

"And what? Are you going to look up philosophy? I'm going to try to use as little of it as Master Vaal will let me get away with. It's the people on the ground, and the politics that help shape the laws and the moral responses to war, that matter." She snorted. "Which is to say that stories of how Mace Windu responded to the first crime against sentients officially charged in a long time matters a lot more than any piffle written by someone who hasn't even seen war. It's been a thousand years, so that's quite a few thinkers."

"Fewer than you think," Nima pointed out. "The galaxy hasn't been at war for a thousand years. But that doesn't mean that Jedi don't see war."

Hannah blinked, having known that but not having, clearly, thought of it. "Ah, right. So consult philosophy? I can't look at the political things, for reasons you seem to be aware of, mostly because someone must have been talking behind my back. But I can look into the stories of the Jedi Masters who have seen war first-hand and tried to deal with it. They're peacekeepers, so perhaps that's not the right way to look at it. But, it's a start, right?"

"That… does make sense. Why the political things, or rather. The Jedi don't get involved directly in politics, do we?"

"We should," Hannah said, firmly.

Nima knew that she'd been about to say it, and suddenly she could feel it. This was the start of its own sort of debate. "Should we? Think about how mutable the fortunes of an individual politician is, compared to the Republic. If we taint ourselves with openly electoral aims…"

"Ah, so you're against Jordyan Bell, are you?" Hannah asked, the vicious triumph at the comparison evident in her voice.

"Being against slavery is not a political issue," Nima said. "It's a moral one."

"Political issues are moral issues. Moral issues become political issues." Hannah shrugged and said, "Your no-doubt-future Master is as political as I am, and if he could find a way to endorse candidates without the Order objecting, he probably would."

Nima winced, biting her lip a little. She couldn't speak to the accuracy of the claims. In fact, if she mentioned anything about Hannah talking specifically about legislation, she would give away that she was the one who'd told on her. "Maybe so, but… you can see why the Order has worries, can't you? If it is hurt, you know how many people would go without help?"

"Plenty, sure. The Jedi aren't everything, and I've sometimes thought that everyone should have a backup plan. I have no idea what yours would be, Nima." The implication that she was incompetent or mediocre hung in the air, but Nima didn't rise to the bait, and so Hannah continued. "If the Jedi Order is so very certain of the correctness of their own views, why shouldn't they be involved in politics? If they think their views are wrong, why do they hold them? Because people already associate the Order with the Republic and all it stands for anyways, and that includes all sorts of bad things. What if the Jedi kept the Republic to its core values? How much less likely would this war be? The best way to deal with war, I think, is to do what you need to do to win and try not to have to do it again."

Nima frowned, trying to figure out where to go from here. Hannah had been drawn in, but there was something about that connection now between them, the argument, that seemed like it could be a way in. Or it could be a way to win, if she really cared about that.

"Yet war does not make one great," Nima quoted, even as she tried to read deeper into Hannah's emotions. What was it there that was making Nima so sure she could win?

Doubt, that was it. Hannah had doubt, for once, about her connections to her father, about how much they meant to each other. She had doubt, too, about just who she was and what she was doing. For a moment she was laid so painfully bare that even her grevious flaws didn't seem significant. Nima was almost shocked at the way that the Force had cracked open the shell, and revealed what was inside. It wasn't always nice, of course: some of what Nima saw in that moment was deliberately cruel.

"You say that, and yet what is Master Bell doing? And if war doesn't… but we're talking about politics. Politics and decision-making connect with whatever morality you have to make the rules of war, though of course, what happens when only one group obeys them?"

Nima winced, because that was a good point. Nima's idealism certainly clashed with the cruelty of the Separatists. It was hard to think about burning houses and keep in check. It was hard to acknowledge that she felt it too, that doubt and uncertainty. That she had flaws. Hannah didn't seem to think her flaws were flaws, though, and that was wrong, wasn't it?

To look at yourself and not see mistakes and errors was to miss them, for no sentient was perfect.

"Perhaps. But I am a Jedi, and so are you. I can tell it, in the way you think, in the way you talk, just like you can for me," Nima said. And it really was true. She meditated three times a day, and she talked as if she would one day have the power to make decisions for herself, to resolve great conflicts.

She spoke, despite all of the electoral politics, like a Jedi.

Nima wondered at that contradiction. She thought of herself as Mala's daughter, and yet she'd spent almost eight years with the Jedi, learning. Wasn't she as much a daughter of the Temple as anything else? The two weren't exclusive… or at least, Nima didn't think they were, not entirely. But Hannah seemed to, almost. And here she was, feeling cut off from her other life. Hannah had entered the Temple at the age of four and a half. Nima had remembered her, at least a little, even back then. Having for some time a connection to her father probably helped keep that feeling alive… yet even despite that she doubted herself. She was a Jedi as much as a Senator's daughter.

And Hannah hated it. Or rather, in this moment that was the emotion that came welling up. She hated how much she was already a Jedi, she hated that her options had been cleaved in two, to her mind, by some anonymous tipster.

Nima's words struck her deep, and she almost recoiled, almost stood up and ran. She was sad, she was miserable, and in that moment Nima knew that she was going to lash out. Hannah was going to all but attack Nima because she couldn't stand up to this truth, this commonality when she held herself to be so separate and so secret, and so special.

Jedi were special, but it was not in the way Hannah wanted.

Nima felt all of it, and felt too the tendrils of guilt reaching up to drag her down into the waters of the Force, to dwell on those dark facts and the sheer, unbridled pain she'd caused another--which looked, then, as if it was a vast multitude of suffering--for no reason other than her whims.

Nima said that Hannah was as Jedi as her, but what did that mean?

"Go. Away," Hannah said, holding herself back with sheer will and calm and focus. Jedi-like calm, Jedi-like focus.

"I'm sorry if what I said seems cruel," Nima said. "I think that Jedi can be compared to others, but that you shouldn't think that making Jedi into politicians will improve Jedi, or even improve politics. But. Perhaps more needs to be done, perhaps the Jedi should have acted to stop the spread of the Federation ahead of time."

"More should have been done," Hannah said. "And now you're responsible for--"

"Me?" Nima asked.

"You're a Jedi, you're part of an organization. You can't hold yourself apart from it."

"Then you're responsible too," Nima said.

Hannah's face twisted.

"Give me the list of names of the works you need, and I'll go from there," Nima said, standing up slowly, as if she were waiting for that last insult.

"You're a bitch," Hannah said, her resolve finally snapping. Her voice was low enough that it wouldn't carry. The people in the Archives tended to disapprove of strong language.

Then Hannah blanched. She was a kid, and she knew she'd crossed a line. As soon as she'd blanched went the other way around, reddening, shame stabbing her deep, which perhaps was the only reason that Nima hadn't stood up and left. Even then it was a close thing as Hannah said, "I… I shouldn't--"

But she couldn't finish the sentence, she seemed to struggle to find the words.

Nima didn't know what to feel, that she had sat down and caused this troubling, confused chaos of emotions to explode. That she'd caused thoughts and feelings to breed and create something new, some emotion that even Nima couldn't quite grasp. Even so, it shouldn't justify a foul mouth, especially in someone so young.

"I'm a Jedi, so are you. There are many ways to be that," Nima said as she walked away, slowly, waiting for the names. "Just because I don't like you doesn't make you anything else."

It felt like truth, though not the kind of truth that set one free. Instead, she felt weighted down with each word she spoke, for she could feel how her words were in turn weighing down on Hannah.

She'd chosen them right. Or she'd chosen them wrong. She couldn't know which, quite yet.

She kept on walking, and stopped when Hannah began to tell her the names, in between glares.

******

Nima had been distracted as of late, curious and tired, jumping at shadows and dreams. They hadn't gotten any worse, her dreams, but neither had they gotten better. Instead, they just drifted along. Her mother was sad, and that pain was even more real and more immediate than Hannah's.

She could see how distorting her very strengths could be, that when every pain was entirely felt, it could become hard to separate them out. There were people suffering and dying, and Ryloth itself had been suffering, and yet she was just as strongly affected by Hannah's suffering because she could understand it more personally, and look at it closer.

That said all sorts of things about Nima, and only a few of them were all that good. Guilt continued to gnaw at her, continued to make her wonder at her actions. She went to see Anakin later and later over the last few days, trying to find a time and a place to talk to him. But there was always someone there, always someone who was also interested in talking to Anakin. Despite his words he hadn't done much more than walk around.

He was recovering slower than anyone expected. Including himself. Or at least, his conscious self.

Nima was so unfocused that she came startlingly close to spying on a conversation before she heard it or noticed it was there.

"I don't think there's anything I can say that I haven't said, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan said. There was an edge in his voice, and his emotions seemed to be divided, running along different tracks towards very different conclusions.

"He trusts you, he'd listen to you," Ahsoka.

"Trusts me, yes. Listens to me? If he starts doing that I'll know something is wrong," Obi-Wan said, with a fond sort of exasperation.

"I know what you mean," Ahsoka said. "I almost want him to get up and run away on some mission, just because…"

"I understand," Obi-Wan said. "Also, you should come out Nima. Spying isn't appreciated."

Nima flushed. "Sorry, I didn't notice you were there, and then I stopped."

Ahsoka was frowning. "Hey, Nima. You going to see Anakin?"

"Yes," Nima said, feeling a sinking feeling as she knew what was about to happen.

"Well, let's all go to him together. Maybe we can lure him into a duel? You're getting better, right? Both of us against him would be good exercise," Ahsoka said.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Perhaps that will work, Ahsoka." He raised an eyebrow. "As long as you don't take it too far."

"I don't think he'll accept," Nima said, quietly.

"We gotta keep a positive attitude, Neems," Ahsoka said.

"Neems?" Nima asked, baffled by the nickname.

"You're not going to stop her," Obi-Wan said.

"I've learned that, Master Kenobi," Nima said, quietly.

"Your studies have been going well?" Kenobi asked, slightly awkwardly. He was wise and clever, but they hadn't really talked much.

"Yes, they have. I'm working on a philosophy paper, actually," Nima said.

"Ah, very good," Obi-Wan said. "Far too few people consider the subject."

"I'm guessing that's not how Anakin would feel?" Nima asked.

"I long since gave up on that as an unwinnable struggle," Obi-Wan said, drily. Nima could imagine him assigning books to read, or passages, and then Anakin spending more time practicing his dueling or tinkering with starships.

"Ah," Nima said.

"What is the project on?" Obi-Wan asked, as all three of them walked over towards Anakin's room.

The conversation was slightly stilted and awkward, yet she did unwind a little when talking about her research… which could certainly be going better, but could also be going quite a bit worse. Obi-Wan was nice enough, if a little too serious.

Of course, all Nima had had lately was stress and work, so perhaps she was getting too serious as well.

******

Nima was staring down at the documents, trying to make sense of it. The rules and laws seemed inexplicable, as if they had come from nowhere and nothing, and yet a thousand years ago there had been attempts to codify the rules of war.

That they were after the war was what Hannah would consider a significant fact, though they did seem to have experience with war. They weren't outsiders and pacifists now determining the way that conflicts would be fought for nearly a thousand years… until the Separatists broke all of the rules and more.

But her research was going poorly, as was her somewhat cursory attempts at finding where her mother might live.

So when Jayne came up to her, she perked up and put away her work. Maybe talking to someone would help. "Hello, Jayne, how is it going?"

"It's okay," Jayne said, quietly. "The crack, it's widened."

"Widened?" Nima asked. "When?"

"I think… I think it happened after the Battle of Jabiim." He looked away, flushing. "I didn't go out until after Geonosis, but I'd been down there before, and I swear I didn't see…"

"A crack," Nima said, frowning harder and considering it from all angles. "So it has something to do with the impressions of dying Jedi? Or of war escalating and getting worse? Or…"

"I don't know. And there's only so much you can research. Before you get noticed," Jayne said, a little shrug.

"Ah. I could help by looking things up on my own?" Nima suggested.

"Maybe. What's that?" Jayne said, pointing to the one thing that didn't belong. It was a registry listing all of the apartments in the city.

"I… am looking for someone," Nima said, carefully.

"Looking? I could help," Jayne said. "I owe you. And I know Coruscant. So who are you looking for?"

"A Twi'lek woman, in her early thirties. She lives in or near a twi'lek-heavy area, and she lives in an apartment while working at an office building," Nima said.

"That's a great start already. I know what'd help," Jayne said.

Indeed, he was an amazing researcher. He went into a side room to pull up the 3-D holo-map of Coruscant, and then began inputting data. The areas that were Twi'lek lit up bright, and extended downwards, breaking at a point only to restart in the criminal underworld of those areas, which was largely Twi'lek. In Nima's understanding, there was little other choice for some of the people down there.

He could eliminate the lowest layers, and did, and then began to look it up in combination with office buildings and other factors.

By the time they had to go to other classes, he'd at least narrowed it down to a dozen different places for the apartment, and nine different office buildings, and Nima was sure that they'd come back again. He hadn't even asked what it was about, though it was clear that he was curious where all of these details were coming from.

A day or two later they were back, and now Nima was recounting the dreams, the fact that her Mom took transportation instead of walking--which eliminated one side--and that she was facing the sun when it rose.

All of that narrowed it down to four… which was when something began to go wrong. Something wasn't accurate, and Nima had no idea why. When she added in all the details she knew, it wound up that none of the places quite fit.

Which should be impossible. She ran through it again, and then again.

"I think you're missing something," Jayne said. "Let's take a break from this for a bit."

"I… guess," Nima said, feeling frustrated and helpless. Four places of work and four apartment buildings. That was what she had it down to before little details from her dreams disqualified them: so close that she could at least identify the general region that her mother was working in. But she wasn't going to be able to help her if she was in trouble, and by the third time she'd looked through it, Jayne had no doubt begun to suspect the truth.

"Take a look at this," Jayne said, scrolling through the list of buildings. He pointed to a diner called. "Buttes'" which seemed to have been involved, from the records, in a smuggling case… fifty years ago.

"Maybe I'm too much of a little kid, but," Jayne said.

But Nima was trying to stifle a smile too at the name. She knew, since she knew language, that all sorts of words sounded like all sorts of other words. But that didn't make it not amusing. "Well, are there any other weird ones?"

"How about this one. The Jedi Knight who was trying to break up the gang had to dress like a wookiee to get in, because it was a wookiee club. Not that it fooled anyone, for long." Jayne said. "Talk about a hairy situation."

Nima coughed, but even her hand couldn't quite hide her amused smile.

That's how she spent the next hour, exchanging silly story after silly story about restaurants, about clothing stores, it seemed there were very few places without notes referring to some sort of mission that at least took the Jedi close by.

Jayne had a skill for picking the amusing ones, rather than the serious ones, avoiding sex trafficking, avoiding slavery, and avoiding drugs other than a few stories about night-clubs where it was just mentioned in passing.

The Jedi archives really did have almost everything… and yet she couldn't find any answers to the puzzle.

*******

She snuck out of her room. She wasn't the most subtle of people, but that almost helped her, because nobody expected to have to deal with her out and about. There was a curfew for Initiates, one that was often ignored, to be honest. When it wasn't ignored it was bent, but even so she knew that if she were caught slipping out into the Halls of Healing there would be consequences.

She went anyways, drawn from another dream. Her mother working late, tired and lonely and… Nima didn't know what else. The impression, though, was strong. As was Nima's frustration and guilt: for what she'd felt and what she'd done to Hannah, for her failure to find her mother and her desire to do the same. All of these guilts, all of these questions, were too pervasive to be swept aside.

She knew exactly who to talk to, though.

The door opened slowly and she stepped in, looking down at Anakin Skywalker.

He was awake, and looking right at her.

"Ah," Nima said. She should have expected it. He was a Jedi, of course he'd wake up no matter how quiet she tried to be. She wasn't like Wessen, that was for sure. "Do you mind if I… come in."

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding a little tired. Of course he would be.

"I wanted to talk to you about…" Nima hesitated, feeling the words heavy in her throat. "Dreams."

"You had more dreams?" Anakin asked.

Nima could feel his curiosity, as she hadn't felt his wakefulness at all, almost blind to it until she'd opened the door. Curious, and yet eager as well. It again felt personal, and her understanding of this felt far greater now than it had been before. It felt personal because it must be personal, but how?

"My mother. Sad. Missing something. Half of the stuff in her home gone, weeping. Working longer hours," Nima said. "Tired, and out of it."

The concern was evident on Anakin's face, even without the Force. His brows knotted in thought. "You want to see her?"

"I want to know that she's okay. Whether it's asking Master Bell to see her, or… someone else." Nima couldn't imagine Anakin doing a good job of that, and so she almost hated to mention it at all. The room was dark and she stepped forward, going closer to his bed. He'd pulled his feet back, and so if she wanted to sit down, she could.

There was something odd about him that close, something unraveled. As if he fell apart at night. His eyes were wide and wild, his frown deepening as he looked at her.

"And you know where she is?"

"No, not yet. And that's the problem," Nima said, quietly. "My dreams have details that can't be real because they eliminate all the options. Which means I'm doing something wrong. Or what if what I'm seeing isn't true?"

"Does it feel real?" Anakin asked, leaning in. His still-gloved steel hand moved to rest on the bed-post near her, as if he didn't quite want to pat her on the shoulder or get too close.

"It does. Every dream feels just as real," Nima said.

"Then… you need to find a way to narrow it down. How many places could it be?"

"Up to a dozen," Nima admitted.

"I could look," Anakin said. "Or we could figure out why it's going wrong. I don't know what it could be."

"I think… it has to be some failing of mine," Nima said. "I'm… I shouldn't even be wanting to see her. I don't. I wasn't lying to you, Anakin. But when she's in danger, that's different. I want her to be happy even if I don't ever see her again."

"I understand," Anakin said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Why is this personal?" Nima asked, quietly. She could feel the way the question resonated in his mind. He drew himself up, looking at her close.

"I… I've missed my mother before," he said. That's all he said, but in the Force those words seemed to echo. There was only a dim bit of light in the room, from a the crack in the door, and it fell upon both of them, seeming to take each of them together.

"Oh," Nima said, her heart aching in pity. Missed? Did he stop missing his mother, or…

Or.

Nima Tyruti cleared her throat. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," Anakin said, the emotion now all too readable in his voice.

"I'm worried about her," Nima said.

"You should be," Anakin said. "The people you care about, they…"

He couldn't even say it, and Nima couldn't even guess what he was going to say. There was something in his face that she couldn't understand as he pulled back.

"I worry. You worry. Your friends worry about you," Nima said, her lekku waving a bit in silent messages she knew he wouldn't understand. Sometimes she liked to say things with her lekku anyways. Just for herself.

"Should they? I'm not any good to them. I can't even…"

"Any good? Do you think that's why they're friends? Master, Padawan, and others?" Nima asked.

Anakin didn't answer, but she felt the answer. Even if he knew otherwise, he judged himself and expected to be judged by his successes, by his heroism, by his valor. If he was a weak coward he was nothing and nobody should care about him at all. Or so he thought in this one very weak moment.

"No," he finally said, a lie. "But even if they didn't. You know what happened. I lost."

"You fought hard to the very end," Nima began.

"And do you approve of it? I can feel it in Obi-Wan. He hates what I did."

"I don't. But I also wasn't there," Nima said, moving to get up. "If I were in your place I'd have failed and everyone would have died. If… you think what you did was for the best, then think through it. Decide whether it was or not."

She didn't think her words were getting through. Certainly he was older and wiser than her, and so she shouldn't even be questioning him like this.

"They were mine. My troops. They meant more to me than the loyalists. I'd fought with them, almost died with them," Anakin said, his voice hollow and distant. "I chose them because they meant more to me. But, if I'd been stronger, I could have saved everyone. If I'd been stronger than nobody would have to die!"

Nima stared at him. In the last moment his voice had raised high enough that it might draw attention, and yet the room was silent. "Sometimes, you need other people to be strong."

"I…" Anakin said. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. "Maybe."

He was thinking of Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan, and perhaps of other friends and allies.

"On your own, there will always be things you can't do," Nima said. "But… that's why you have friends."

"Do you trust Master Bell?" Anakin asked, suddenly.

"Trust him? Yes."

"Can he keep secrets?"

"I… think so." Nima was a little confused as she moved towards the door, wishing she could truly understand him. But she couldn't, not the deep parts of himself that he hid.

"Yes, I think so."

"Send him a letter. Tell him what happened. Maybe he knows what to do. And if he's not willing to help… then I'll do something, if I'm still on Coruscant."

"Thank you for the advice, Anakin," Nima said, smiling a little and waving. "And I'm sorry for waking you up."

"I wasn't sleeping anyways," Anakin said, quietly. Truthfully.

She left, the door closing behind her, and hoped that he would find some measure of peace. That perhaps her words…

******

The next day, Nima heard from Cho that Palpatine had finally taken time off from his schedule to visit Anakin. Apparently the two were very close, and so Palpatine visiting him couldn't be anything but good.

Cho, though, complained that Chancellor Palpatine hadn't answered any of her questions about the big new bill he was pushing through the Senate. It was called the Helping to Organize Privacy law Exclusions act or H.O.P.E for short, and apparently it involved the creation of a court in which, if a person is declared suspicious, their right to privacy could then be suspended for the duration of any ongoing investigation.

Cho had… problems with it. So did Nima, thinking about how much she valued what privacy she had. But there were others who spoke about the care that the court would take, and the checks and balances built into the system.

Nobody knew what was going to happen, but it was known that some Senators were already gathering to discuss their opposition. The Senate, too, was acrimonious, when it came down to it.

But Nima had work to do, she had visions to interrogate, she had letters to write. There was very little time and much to be done.

So, in a groundbreaking vote, decide who to spend more time with while working on the project (Choose 1)

[Compel: Guilty] Hannah is looking into the experiences of Jedi and governmental records, perhaps Nima could sort of compete against her and talk to her about it.
[] Jayne is mostly focused on trying to figure out the crack, but perhaps he'd be equally clever at helping her with her studies.
[] Cho is patriotic and liable to talk about things in very simplistic ways, but she's also very intelligent and quite aware of politics and how it works with morality. Surely she's going at the paper quite effectively.
[] Katarina is no doubt delving deep into the philosophical basis of the whole argument. No doubt she's going to be looking carefully and meditating on all of her evidence.
[] Amada is a Twi'lek too, a firebrand who believes in Master Bell just like she does, and who has always been interested in talking to her, not just because she's a Twi'lek but because of her connections to Bell. He's no doubt working up some enthusiastic arguments.
*******

A/N: So, what is a Compel? Some of you might not have read the mechanics, so let me explain it. During the Mental/Social conflict with Hannah (more on that below), Nima took a Mild Consequence, a sort of damage that works as an Aspect. This one is temporary, and is called "Guilty." It'll be gone next update no matter what you choose.

Aspects can be compelled. For instance, a Jedi Knight might be dragged to try to right wrongs. A Compel offers a choice. Either spend a Fate point, or accept the Compel and gain a Fate point.

Nima, right now, has 1/1 Fate points. The full pool, for the moment since long time periods are involved, refills after two updates. Fate points can (and have in the past, without voter input) be spent to add a +2 to a roll, or to reroll it, and there are also some powers (such as some Force Stunts/etc) that could use it.

So, do you lose a Fate point, or give in to the compel and choose Hannah and thus gain an extra point to have 2/1, which can then be used to make certain things easier or not. That's Compels. Don't feel forced to choose that option, but also consider the resource side of things.

Compels exist because of IC reasons. Nima feels guilty and so she's more likely to go along with that. Think of it, in a way, like vote weight.

Second, yes, that was a conflict. Nima and Hannah dealt meant stress, and then when that passed Mental Consequences to each other, which can be viewed/used in all sorts of ways. So, there's a lot to consider.

Hopefully the update itself was good as well.