Chapter Text
Even as she opened the basement window, Carmen knew she shouldn’t. Her grandma would fuss about the dark circles under her eyes in the morning. Her great-aunt had said she could use some help in the garden in the morning. But tonight the quiet was too loud and she had to leave. Not for long, never for long, but long enough to breathe.
Before, when the quiet was too loud Carmen would listen for the trains,for the quiet breathing from the bed next to hers, letting the combination lull her to sleep. In the After, there were no trains, no soft breathing from the other bed. At least outside the singing of the crickets and calls of night birds were familiar noises.
The walk down to the creek was familiar from other late nights. She didn’t really need the penlight to guide her down to her favorite rock. She used it though, her clothes, pyjamas with a too big, too warm jacket on top, would dry quickly in the heat of the summer night, but mud would be hard to explain.
Carmen eased herself down onto the rock and clicked off the flashlight. In the dark she dangled her feet into the cool water of the creek. After a moment Carmen took two small water bottles out of her bag and placed them beside her on a flat portion of the stone. As she completed the familiar ritual she felt the tension ease out of her muscles and her throat unlock.
“Hey Charmer,” her voice cracked as she spoke. Carmen took a drink from the bottle closest to her and continued. “Sorry it’s been a couple of days since I came by. Grams had friends staying the night again.” She swirled her feet in the water as she spoke listening to the soft gurgle of the creek. “It was Mr. Weeks and Mr. Ingham again. And I’m glad Grams and Auntie had friends stop by, but I wish they would just leave me alone.” Carmen’s voice cracked miserably. “They kept pushing about the fire and everything and -”
Her voice had been growing hoarser as she spoke and a coughing fit ripped through her. It took a minute and the rest of the water bottle before she could continue with a noticeably rough voice. “And I know I should talk to Grams at least, but every time I try…” Carmen started miserably out into the dark.
The wind riffled through the trees blowing the short strands of her hair into her face. In the air Carmen could smell rain. She sighed, and tucked the empty bottle and the untouched full one back into her bag and reluctantly pulled her feet out of the water. The trek back up to the house was always the worst bit of her midnight rambles. She clicked the penlight on but didn’t bother to put her shoes back on just yet. She paused when she was within shouting distance of the house, still out of sight behind a small hill and clicked her penlight off. She knew the way by heart from here. She stopped to sit on a ragged tree stump to put her shoes on. Carmen paused, one shoe on, one shoe off when the night noises died away, even the cricket’s song went quiet. She clicked her penlight back on using it to scan the dark woods behind her.
She hadn’t expected to see anything, so the huge bipedal cat with bright reflective eyes made her freeze.
The other thing she’d seen made her knees go weak and wobbly. The cat monster had been carrying a gun. Her knees collapsed and two bright blue lights flashed past her just over her head.
Move! The command shot through her body and she scrambled to get to her feet. A distant corner of her mind registered the cold seeping into her body from the mud now plastered to her pyjamas.
Grams is going to be so mad, she thought diving behind a scrubby bush.
Forget the pyjamas, she imagined a familiar voice scolding, run! She obeyed the echo running frantically toward the house. The thump, like a kick to her back hit and her muscles seized. Her body falling and she skidded into the ground nose first, seeing stars. If she could have gotten any air she would have screamed at the agonizing feeling as her nerves fired and muscles seized. Mercifully when the hands grabbed her abused body Carmen passed out.
Chapter 2: Couldn't Hear Nobody Pray
Summary:
Carmen wakes up
Chapter Text
Carmen lurched into consciousness as something thumped into her stomach. She concentrated on breathing as nausea threatened. She took stock while she breathed. She was lying on bare metal in her pyjamas, her jacket and bag were gone, and she only had one shoe. When she felt she could open her eyes without losing her stomach, she peeked through her eyelashes. Close enough to touch were the bars of a cell. Opening her eyes a little wider, Carmen saw the bars weren’t cells, but the walls of cages.
They lined the walls of the larger space. Walking around on some kind of black matting on the ground were the cat monsters that had kidnapped her. They weren’t carrying the guns Carmen remembered, but now had metal whips coiled in their hands. The smell in the air reminded Carmen of the time the drains clogged, making her cough and breathe through her mouth.
There were people in the other cages, women and kids of all ages from toddlers to around Carmen’s own fifteen. They were packed in together with more children than adults. There were people in her cage too, she could just see a pair of adult shoes at the corner of her vision. Lying across her stomach was her nephew’s body an unconscious kid around three or four. That, she realized, was what had hit her and woken her up.
Carmen scooted carefully upright pausing every time the nausea spiked. A set of little hands pushed on her back trying, she assumed to help her sit up. Once she was upright the kid slumped against her back. Carmen reached back and patted the kid’s head where it rested against her shoulder. Then she had to check on the other kid now lying in her lap. Her hands shook as she touched careful fingers to Max’s kid's throat. Carmen nearly cried when she found a pulse.
They were deeply asleep or unconscious, sprawled limply across her legs. Looking closer now she wasn’t panicking, the kid had dark curly hair braided into cornrows and velvety dark skin. They didn’t look like anyone she knew. Carmen arranged the kid more comfortably in her lap. Beside the two kids in her lap and at her back there were another three slightly older kids, she guessed around eight or nine. One girl in a dirty mini-skort and bedazzled shirt crawled the short distance over to her when their eyes met. Past the two boys Carmen saw a woman lying limp on the floor of the cage. The little girl pressed close to her shoulder.
“Hi,” she whispered, “The bad kitties don’t like us to talk, so we have to be quiet,” Carmen nodded and tucked the girl under her arm, hugging her tightly to her side. The remaining two children scooted a little closer. As they sat huddled together one of the women in the other cages began to sing.
The tune was sweet, like a lullaby, but didn’t suit the rough voice of the singer. But then the words came and Carmen found herself humming along as the woman with the dramatic makeup sang defiance.
And we gather behind them in hordes
And plot to reconquer the Wall
With only our tongues for our swords
When the chorus came round again the little girl leaning against her shoulder was singing along as Carmen hummed low in her chest.
For we are the little folk -- we!
Too little to love or to hate
Leave us alone and you'll see
How we can drag down the state
Impossibly, incredibly on the last verse Carmen heard the echo of her own voice join in the singing. Her throat was still tight, the words clumping and lumping in her throat. Just in case she bit her lip to make sure she really wasn’t singing. She tasted iron and salt, but she still heard her the voice impossibly singing defiant words as a lullaby,
We shall be slaves just the same?
Yes, we have always been slaves
But you -- you will die of the shame
And then we will dance on your graves
Tears dripped down her face as she cuddled the children close to her and listened to her the voice twine through the other singers.
Chapter 3: Better in the Morning
Summary:
Carmen acclimates to captivity. The icy showers, terrible food, and sadistic captors are just part of the scenery. Pay no attention to the hallucination behind the metaphorical curtain.
Notes:
Warning: references to death (past tense), trauma and POV character thinking they’ve gone mad because of said trauma
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Their cage had gained another adult and another child by the time Carmen had figured out the rhythms of being a captive - a slave to literal aliens. The grate at the back of the cage served as the toilet. It was also the shower area. By the third cold spray down Carmen was over any body shyness. Her thin pajamas were no protection from the chill of the metal of the cage and she would huddle with the others in the cage until her teeth stopped chattering.
The cat monsters had been joined by lizard monsters carrying the guns she had seen the night she had been captured. They paced through the room occasionally commenting in a hissing language to each other. Carmen had tried to block the younger kids' view when a couple of women who wouldn’t stop screaming were shot and dragged out of the long room.
TheywerenothersisterTheywerenothersisterTheywerenothersister
Her sister was already dead
When she came back to herself she’d left deep nail marks in her arms. Carmen concentrated on comforting the two children who had latched onto her to avoid thinking about anything outside of their cage.
The little girl in the bedazzled outfit gave her name as Haydee. The other child, Tumaini, was the one who had tried to help her sit up. They were biologically a girl, with the hosing off they were subjected to roughly once a day it was impossible to miss certain facts.
Tumaini’s main language wasn’t one she or Haydee knew. Tumaini did speak a little French and she and Haydee were able to communicate a little. It was hard to learn each others language when getting caught talking risked a punishment. It took until a day when the monsters were distracted by tormenting one of the other captives for Carmen to give the two her name in return.
The other kids had latched on to the two women. None of the others in their cage spoke English. The last one to be thrown in with them, Zilpa spoke a little French and the other mainly seemed to be speaking Greek. It made it harder for their little group to join in the daily singing.
Except for Amazing Grace. Tears filled her eyes as she listened.
"Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come:
'tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
and grace will lead me home."
The singers spoke different languages but even the verses in languages she didn't know rang with the intensity of a war cry. Haydee, started from her place on the other side of Tumaini and joined in the French version of the song.
J’ai reçu des promesses du Seigneur
Ses paroles ont rassuré mon coeur
Et aussi longtemps que je vivrai
Il sera mon bouclier .
The misery lifted for as long as the song lasted as everyone who knew the song sang along. Carmen heard her the impossible voice lifted together with everyone else’s. Only her own voice seemed stuck in her throat.
Finally the cat and lizard monster had as many people as they wanted. The subtle rumble of the engines changed. The songs changed too, shifting verses used to make a plan for when they reached their destination.
The time passed slowly in the cages. Haydee and Tumaini taught each other words in their own languages. She taught them the sign language she and her sister had learned when talking first started to become difficult.
No matter how she tried to ignore what was happening outside the bars, they were not ignored in return. Carmen had seen the women in the other cages being whipped as they struggled to protect the kids crammed into the cages with them. She had prayed to God for the first time since the shooting the last time she had been so afraid. ‘Please’ she prayed ‘let them ignore us.’
She wasn’t surprised when after their pitiful meal was thrown in, one of the lizard monsters grabbed for Tumaini. Carmen threw herself over Tumaini lifting her hands pleadingly. When she was seized and strung up by her wrists she heard the protests and pleas of some of the women. They were ignored.
By the time the monsters threw her back into the cage, Carmen was crying. She hadn’t screamed, but the dry sobs wouldn’t stop. She could feel little hands patting at her face and arms worrycarefear wafting from them.
“Breath, Charmer,”
Her a voice whispered in her ear. Carmen sat up searching blindly, heart in her mouth, but she only saw her fellow captives. She scrubbed her face dry on the sleeve of her pyjamas and gave her best attempt at a smile to Tumaini and Haydee. They clung to her even more after that. The two women in the cage refused to meet her eyes.
The cat monsters went for Tumaini again after a couple of meals. When she was thrown back into the cage this time she shook tasting metal in her mouth and gasping on sobs.
“Breath, Charmer,”
The impossible voice said, more clearly this time,
“Just relax, they’ve had their fun.”
“They won’t bother you again for a while.”
This time Carmen didn’t open her eyes immediately, craving more of her that voice. She was going nuts, the stress was getting to her. That was her sister's voice,
And she was dead
Notes:
Note: I hope this did not surprise anyone, I have been laying some pretty broad hints as to what was going on with the voice.
Carmen is currently in survival mode. As such there is a list of things she quite firmly is Not Thinking About.
Chapter 4: Cheshire Kitten (We're All Mad Here)
Summary:
In which escapes are made, hallucinations are helpful, and clone troopers encounter a feral teenager
Notes:
Warning: Carmen has a flashback during this chapter and loses track of when and where she is, it starts at FIRE! And ends at “She wasn’t the only one escaping”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Carmen wasn’t really sure why she was going mad now . She was miserable and scared, but she’d felt her sister die worse, without going mad.
“Are you sure?” Asked the voice,
Carmen ignored the voice. She had new problems.
Tumaini had started to shiver for longer after the blasts of cold water. Carmen was sure she was sick. All she could do was keep Tumaini cuddled close in her arms for as long as possible. Haydee was worried too, choosing to cuddle into Tumaini’s other side instead of playing quiet games with the other three kids.
When the subtle rumble of the engines stopped Carmen was ready. She had worked the metal bits out of her sole boot and strung them on the shoelace. Wrapped around one hand it gave her a makeshift knuckleduster.
“Smart”
The voice came from beside her. It hadn’t left after the last time she’d been whipped. And if she looked out of the corner of her eye she could see a human shape picked out in blue flickering lights. She did her best to ignore it.
Finally the moment came. The slavers had blasted them with water again, only this time the women had soaked the rough woolish blankets under the spray. The two women in the cage with Carmen held their blankets with grim and fearful expressions on their faces.
“Stay close,” Carmen signed to Tumaini and Haydee. Haydee nodded and took Tumaini’s hand. The younger girl whined and clung, pressing her face into Haydee’s shoulder.
From there Carmen only remembered the fight in snatches.
The cage bars flinging up into the ceiling and the lights sparking and dying. A cat monster falling, its throat torn out. One of the singers, her face painted in streaks of purple and yellow, punching another cat monster before it could reach one of the teens. Glowing metal held in a tall woman’s hands as she flung herself at a lizard monster. The sounds of retching and the stink of vomit joining the smell of blood. And out of the corner of her eye fire,
Fire
Fire!
FIRE!
Carmen ran, Laney’s hand clutched in hers. She had to get out, the shooters were ahead of them, but the church was on fire behind them. Laney couldn’t run. Laney had died first .
“Charmer?”
The weight of Ty on her back threatened to unbalance her as she backpedaled quickly away from red, like blood, sticky and tacky dried under her nails. She won’t let Ty fall, won’t fail, not this time. Ty wasn’t there, he’d been safe.
“Charmer!”
A flash of daylight, her sister running at her side, keeping Laney tucked safe between them. she was dead,dead,died in her arms
“Charmer! Come on, there’s an exit this way, follow me!”
Always, you’re gone where I can’t follow
“We’ll find somewhere quiet and safe.” Her sister said, looking ahead.
Carmen tugged a flagging Laney Haydee, not familytrustingfailed but family now all the same. And it was Tumaini on her back weighing her down, snuffling frightened tears and snot into her neck. Not Ty. Ty was safe They were the ones in danger, not people left behind on earth. And they were following a hallucination out of a space ship. Carmen nearly stopped but shouts from behind her made her push on.
She wasn’t the only one escaping through this exit. A couple of women alone or with a kid ran past her splitting to run in different directions. Carmen didn’t run, instead following her sister as she ducked under a support. There was a tiny shadowed alcove against the ship’s side just big enough for the three of them to keep out of sight. The hallucination vanished once they were hidden.
“I’ll keep a lookout, Charmer, you catch your breath and look after the kids.”
Well, the hallucination her sister had found this hiding spot maybe it? she? could keep a lookout. She pulled Tumaini around to her chest and settled the little girl in her lap. Then she tugged Haydee into the cuddle. She gasped and trembled against her as Carmen rubbed her back. The men in red continued to shout and she heard several thunder past in pursuit of the escaping women. Carmen silently mouthed a prayer that they would make it.
Carmen waited until she couldn’t hear any more noise from above and then began to crawl out of their hiding place. They had exited through a hole in the ship’s side, not a proper exit, like the ones the screamers had been thrown from. She hoped this meant it wouldn’t be guarded.
Cautiously she looked around but didn’t see anyone. Carmen slipped out of their hiding place and reached a hand out for Tumaini and Haydee. They were creeping cautiously out of the ship’s shadow when there was a shout from behind them.
* * * * *
CT-9511 shifted slightly at his post. He’d been left to guard the breech made in the hull of the slave ship. Command had decided to break into the ship using breeching charges rather than alert the slavers on board by slicing the ramp open. CT-9511’s squad had ended up chasing some of the revolting slaves down. The squad had split when the women managed to somehow make it out of the ship and run out into the levels of Coruscant. He’d been the newest addition to the squad and Sgt. Jaw had ordered him to remain behind to guard the breach against more escapees. He listened over the com as his vode worked to convince the women the troopers weren’t there to hurt them.
A furtive movement distracted CT-9511 from listening to his vode getting their shebse handed to them. He stepped closer to the gap in the ship in time to see a barefoot nat-born leading two smaller ones away from the ship.
“Hey!” he shouted, “Stop!” The trio immediately broke into a stumbling run, the taller figures dragging the smallest between them.
“Sitrep,” came the calm order from Sgt. Jaw. CT-9511 flushed, he hadn’t remembered to switch off the internal com before toggling on the external one. He took off after the probable escaped slaves as he responded. Luckily there wasn’t too much foot traffic around the spaceport at this hour.
“Three unknowns fleeing from the slave ship, sir,” CT-9511 reported, “I’m in pursuit. I think they are escapees. All three are humanoid, the tallest has no shoes. Subjects are approximately fifteen yards in front of my position, and attempting to lose me in the crowd”
“I’m closest to your position, shiny” Sgt. Jaw responded, “On an intercept course. Be ready.”
“Yes, sir,” CT-9511 responded then devoted his attention to not losing the three escapees. He was gaining on them, but his relative bulk worked against him, and he knew three women had been able to slip away from his brothers. Ahead he saw Sgt. Jaw step onto the main concourse and the escapees actually run straight into him. The Sgt. grabbed the tallest one’s arm. CT-9511 saw raw terror flash on the nat-born’s face before they dropped their companions hands and attacked Sgt. Jaw. The com channel was still open so CT-9511 heard the grunt the Sgt. gave as the nat-born slammed a hand up into the bottom of his helmet. That blow was followed by a knee to the crotch plate. CT- 9511 had to focus on grabbing the two smaller nat-borns as the Sgt. corralled the feral tooka he’d caught.
The slightly taller one screamed, “kɑɹ’mən!” as CT-9511 grabbed them. He heard Sgt. Jaw let out a startled oath and glanced that way to see the feral tooka was biting his glove and attempting to claw his throat out. Mentally he upgraded the Sgt.’s catch to baby nexu. The screamer of his own catch started kicking his shin plates and the smallest one attempted to bite him through his glove. His attempts at soothing were worse than useless, so CT-9511 just picked them up and held them dangling off the ground. This didn’t stop them kicking him, but at least they couldn’t bite him. Sgt. Jaw had to secure his catch like a prisoner and carry them over one shoulder.
“Do you have those two secure, trooper?” Sgt. Jaw asked once he’d secured the little nexu.
“Yes, sir,” CT-9511 replied.
“Back to the ship. Time to make these three the medics’ problem.” Sgt. Jaw set out at a jog back to the ship and CT-9511 followed.
Notes:
They are finally off of that slave ship and on their way to the Jedi Temple.
If you skipped the flashback section, Carmen had a flashback to when her sister and other family members died. She hallucinates her sister leading her, Haydee and Tumaini to an exit out of the ship and comes back to herself just before they exit the ship.
Chapter 5: Oh, Freedom
Summary:
In which Carmen wakes up and realizes some things.
Notes:
Carmen wakes up restrained and has a slight panic attack
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Carmen woke up she was lying on a cot in an unfamiliar room. Her hands were cuffed to the sides of the cot with some sort of padded bracelet. The storm troopers were nowhere to be seen, but neither were Tumaini and Haydee.
Carmen pulled at the cuffs, trying not to panic as she realized she was trapped with no way to even try to communicate. The cuffs were obviously meant for someone bigger, but her hand wouldn’t quite fit when she pulled. She pulled harder, yanking desperately, her breath beginning to hitch.
“Gestoppian! Stæg stille, ungeræd.” Came the annoyed shout from the doorway behind her. The person that entered was male and looked a little older than her. Carmen could feel annoyancesuperioritycontempt coming off him like a waft of particularly unpleasant body odor. He reached toward her, grabbing her arm. Carmen jerked back startled. He made an impatient noise and jerked at her arm saying something she didn’t understand. Carmen reared back and headbutted the idiot in the nose. He staggered back bleeding bright blue blood from his nose.
Another person spoke sharply from the doorway, “Pǣdāƿǣn, lȳfan þe rūm.” They were a blue Twi’lek wearing what had to be Jedi robes. Carmen boggled, the implications only now sinking in. Somehow they were in Star Wars. And since her last memories were of white clad troopers, but she was being treated by a Jedi, it was before order 66. She relaxed a fraction. The Jedi in the movies wouldn’t hurt a prisoner, so she and her two charges should be safe enough until order 66 was given. The rude idiot left as the Twi’lek approached Carmen’s cot slowly. Continuing to project her gestures and move slowly, the Twi’lek undid the cuffs around Carmen’s wrists.
* * * * *
Vokara Che sighed mentally as she rescued another padawan from the patients rescued from the slave ship. The underweight human girl had been brought in cuffed to a gurney after trying to maul the Corrie medic Poison. At least this patient wasn’t biting people, one of the little ones had bitten an unwary padawan. Padawan Peystenn’s nose hadn’t been broken and maybe this would teach them not to grab at patients that couldn’t understand them. The girl had pulled away from the healer to sit with her back to the secure rail and her knees up as a barrier. Vokara caught the girl’s eye and demonstrated the medical scanner on herself. The lights lit up green for the most part with an area of lighter green indicating markers for elevated stress hormones.
Slowly she brought the scanner around to face the girl, projecting every movement. The girl eyed it warily but didn’t pull away. The scan showed what Vokara had come to expect from this group; acute malnutrition, dehydration, and elevated stress hormones. The girl also had the beginnings of a ligament tear in her left wrist, developing bruises around both wrists, healing nerve damage on her back, and barely sealed cuts on her feet.
Those were just the physical injuries, the girl's force presence was concerning. She radiated pain and loss into the force. Heart-pain, soul pain, not anything a standard healer could really do anything about. The girl needed a mind healer now, but Vokara had no idea how to get the understandably wary child anywhere near the mindhealers.
She had to focus on the issues she could solve, so Vokara showed the problem areas revealed by her scanner to the girl. She really needed to get a name from her, and was allowed to wrap the wrist. Dealing with her feet was trickier; she kept nearly kicking Vokara in the face as she reapplied the bacta and bandages. The expression on the girl’s face and the apologetic feeling in the force let Vokara know it was a reflexive action. Finally done, she caught the girl’s eyes and gestured firmly to herself “Vokara” then her patient. There was a brief look of frustration on the girl’s face. Then she gestured to her mouth and shook her head. Then she gestured to herself, mimicking Vokara’s gesture, but made motions with one hand instead of speaking. An open circle, a fist that would definitely break her thumb if she punched with it and an open palm held toward her face.
Vokara frowned and ran the scanner across the girl’s throat again, there were faint signs of beginning atrophy in the intrinsic muscle of her throat. But nothing that would prevent speech. She repeated her name and when indicated the girl made the hand gestures again. Vokara did her best to repeat them and got a slight smile in response. It made sense that a group of refugees that spoke no recognizable language would have a sign language of their own. Hopefully one of the other refugees used sign language as well, otherwise this poor child would have a hard time.
* * * * *
Carmen waited impatiently and a little uneasily sitting on the bed she’d woken up in. Vokara, the Jedi healer, she was pretty sure Jedi called their doctors healers, had been clear in her gestures and charades to keep off her feet. She might have risked it anyway, but the journey to the washroom had convinced her. She did not want to walk further than the couple of feet that it took to reach it if she could help it.
She was still worried about Tumaini and Haydee, but she had no way to ask the Jedi before she left if the girls were alright. Carmen thought back to the last bits she remembered before waking up in some sort of Jedi medical ward.
What she now knew were clone troopers had carried all three of them back to the slave ship they had escaped from. Her captor had cuffed her wrists and her ankles together before he’d slung her over his shoulder. They hadn’t uncuffed her before dropping her on a gurney. The trooper had attached the cuffs on her wrists to one side of the metal gurney and cuffs on her feet to one of the legs. It neatly prevented her from slipping off the gurney and making another run for it. She’d been scared but not panicked until the trooper carrying Haydee and Tumaini hadn’t stopped, instead continuing onto a vehicle of some kind. Haydee had been screaming for her, but Tumaini hadn’t stirred in the clone’s arms. That was when she panicked. Carmen didn’t really know what happened after that. She got the feeling the troopers involved were glad to see the back of her.
“Nah, Charmer,”
The infuriating voice answered her,
‘They were impressed,”
“Of course they also think you're crazy.”
Obviously they were right, Carmen thought. She thought she heard her dead sister a voice speaking to her, that sounded pretty crazy to her.
“They don’t know about that,” her the voice said,
“You bit one of them through the armor they wear,”
The voice was quiet for long enough that Carmen wondered if the hallucination had finally left
“I checked on your kids,”
Carmen felt a rush of hope and dread.
“They’re both fine. Haydee refused to leave Tumaini,
so they are both two doors down.”
Carmen immediately swung her feet down from the bed and began limping toward the door.
It Hurt.
A Lot.
So she focused on, notthinkingaboutitnotthinkingaboutitNOTTHINKINGABOUTIT, until the pain faded from being at the front of her thoughts and her steps were steadier. She hesitated in the doorway for a moment after she reached it.
“To the right, you stubborn idiot,”
Carmen shuffled down the hall feeling more and more drained as it became more difficult to push the pain away. She was feeling light headed by the time she made it to the second door, barely twenty short steps away from her medical room. Just like the room she had come from there was no doorknob. She stared at the door in confusion for a second before it swished open.
“You’re welcome.”
Carmen didn’t have the energy to spare to deal with her sister the hallucination affecting the physical world. The room she staggered into was occupied, two of the medical beds had been pushed together. Haydee was curled protectively around Tumaini, both kids deep asleep. Tumaini had a mask on her face leading to a machine that hummed quietly. Carmen staggered to the beds feeling the last of her energy draining away. She managed to climb up onto the pushed together beds without waking either sleeper.
Her eyes closed the instant her head hit the bed. She didn’t wake when Tumaini woke briefly and pulled Carmen’s arm, until she could cuddle her hand as she slept. Nor when one of the women from the ship poked her head in to check on them. She didn’t even stir when the exasperated Vokara Che discovered where her patient had gone. The Jedi Healer was able to check and change the bandages without Carmen even beginning to wake. She only started to stir when Tumaini and Haydee properly woke up.
Notes:
I’m using Old English to represent the way basic sounds to a Terran’s ear. I can’t claim credit for the concept. It comes from the inspiration for this fic.
Chapter 6: Heads up for the Wrecking Ball
Summary:
Escaping medical and overdue conversations
Chapter Text
Carmen ended up being confined to the medical bed for another two days to heal the original damage plus aggravation she’d caused her injuries by walking on them. It hadn’t been awful in the medical room, but she was glad to leave. Vokara Che, the first Jedi healer she had met, had been kind and respectful.
Unfortunately there were several padawan healers who were not. Some treated her and the girls like they were exotic animals, wary and curious. Haydee had taken to hissing at those when they came by. Carmen preferred the curious ones to the ones who watched her and Haydee with suspicious eyes and tried to take Tumaini away. Haydee had bitten one and Carmen had thoroughly frightened one. After that they were mostly left alone.
When she was finally released she let Tumaini and Haydee lead her through the corridors until they reached an indoor garden. It looked like most, if not all of the women and children from the ship were gathered in clusters around the edges of the green space. Something inside her relaxed when she saw them. All of their fellow ex-captives looked much better, cleaned up and wearing variations of the classic Jedi outfit.
Carmen sat on the edge of one of the fountains to listen. Haydee immediately ran off to chatter with a group of kids around her age. Tumaini sighed and leaned against Carmen’s legs. She stroked a hand over the little girl’s short cropped tight curls and listened.
Several of the women spoke English and were close enough for her to hear as they spoke to each other. Apparently the pushiness of the Jedi hadn’t been limited to just their little group of three. There were still Jedi lingering around the edges of the garden space looking at them the way everyone had…after.
One of the women started singing. Carmen recognized the song. Her mom had an old record player sitting in the seldom used living room. Every evening after dinner she would pick out a record and play it. They’d grown up listening to Bob Dylan, Pete Seager, Aretha Franklin, and Peter Paul and Mary.
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
And how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Carmen hummed along as more of the women picked up the song.
How many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
The Jedi drifted closer as Carmen heard the familiar sound of [her sister’s] the hallucination singing along with the other voices.
The answer my friend is blowing in the wind,
The answer is blowing in the wind
It was an echo of the singing in the belly of the ship. A cry to stand up, to say, “this far, and no further.”
Carmen felt her eyes widen and excitement hum in her veins as Yoda stepped out of the crowd of watching Jedi and spoke to the lead singer. She definitely was disappointed when Yoda still spoke in the funny German-ish language all of the people in the temple spoke. When the main singer wandered away saying something about a nap, Carmen collected Haydee from her friends and, both girls in tow, wandered off in search of a quiet corner of the garden.
Carmen settled on the soft grass beside a fountain that burbled enough to cover quiet conversation. Haydee sat cross-legged in front of her. Tumaini leaned up against her side.
“It’s ok, Charmer, no one followed you.”
Well, her sister the voice hadn’t been wrong yet. Carmen took a deep breath, today felt like a good day for talking. She had brought the girls here to try to talk to them using her voice. “Ar-” her voice cracked, “Are you feeling better?” Feeling was one of those terms that was hard to communicate effectively without speaking the same language. Haydee stared.
“ Tu peux parler?”
“Yeah, since when could you talk?” Haydee looked indignant and a little hurt. Carmen had been thinking while confined to bedrest how to explain in a way they could understand.
“I get really scared,” Carmen rasped, her throat already aching, “then the words get stuck in my chest. Sometimes they get stuck for a long time.” Haydee frowned
“Were you scared on the ship?” Haydee asked. Carmen nodded and managed to croak out,
“Yes.”
“Are you still scared?” Carmen grimaced faintly,
“Yes,” she rasped out. “Sometimes I remember things that scared me and I can’t talk at all for days.”
“Days?” Tumaini asked, proving she’d been able to follow along without Haydee translating. Carmen nodded.
“It’s ok Charmer, we’ll be here when you’re scared,” Haydee told her, patting her hand. Carmen stared at her.
“How..,” She rasped, “How did you know that name?” Haydee gave her a puzzled look.
“The blue you told us.” Carmen could only stare. “She said you’d like Charmer better than Carmen.” Tumaini was nodding as Haydee spoke. Carmen felt lightheaded. Haydee fidgeted as Carmen continued to stare. “I won’t use it again if you don’t like it.”
“‘S fine,” Carmen mumbled sparks dancing in front of her eyes.
“Breath, Charmer, you have to remember to breath,”
The her sister’s voice sounded faintly amused through the worry as she coaxed Carmen into putting her head between her knees so she could breath. When she finally stopped feeling like she was about to pass out, Carmen looked into her sister’s eyes for the first time in over a year.
She was, as Haydee had said, blue, and faintly transparent. Tears prickled in Carmen’s eyes as she drank in her sister’s face. She was smiling slightly rucking up the corner of her mouth. Carmen felt an answering smile tug on her lips even through the tears. She’d avoided mirrors for months after losing her. Her sister, her twin.
Carmen reached for her twin, wincing at the same time the other girl did when her hand passed through her.
“How?” Carmen sobbed, “you were dead.”
“I’m still dead, Charmer,”
her sister told her,
“That doesn’t mean I left you.”
That did it, Carmen cried, sobbing like her heart was breaking again. Carmen felt two small bodies hit her clinging desperately as they both sobbed into her shirt. The outpouring of
grieflosesorrowrelief
lasted until the younger girls had sobbed themselves to sleep. Trapped under their bodies Carmen whispered stuffily, “Why couldn’t I see you before?” Her sister sighed and settled into a cross-legged pose,
“Some of the others think Earth has some kind of null effect on the Force.”
She explained,
“I mean, everyone’s heard of someone seeing a hitchhiking ghost,
Or just knowing something bad’s happened.
You were talking to me down by the creek, and you knew I was listening”
Carmen nodded.
“This just more,”
“Ok,” Carmen hesitated, “Do you think we’ll be able to do Jedi stuff, like the movies?”
Her twin laughed, the expression lighting up their shared features.
“You already did,”
She pointed out,
“How else do you explain how you got off the ship?
I mean, we didn’t actually disappear when we’d vanish on Earth.”
Carmen stared at her sister, her mouth dropping open, “What!” The force ghost of her twin just laughed at her.
Chapter 7: Silent Scream
Summary:
In which more long overdue discussions are had, tears are shed, and temporary measures taken
Notes:
Buckle up folks we’re getting into past trauma with this one. Child abuse, neglect, and an explanation of why the twins never use each others legal names. The first section starts at “you know Charmer” and ends at “I wish you could”. The second section starts at: Carmen wasn’t the name of a real person, and ends: Her twin loved instrumental music.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They talked for hours in the Jedi’s garden that day, waiting for the two girls to wake up. Carmen couldn’t remember what she’d done on the ship, and her twin struggled to explain what she’d seen. They quickly gave up that topic in favor of catching up. Their conversation meandered through topics. The dead twin had a very different perspective on the Jedi’s temple. Her living counterpart explained some of the events she’d missed on earth, because,
“I didn’t leave for long, but I’d check in on Jesse, Mary and the niblings.
It…made me feel better, seeing Maxie made it.”
Both girls’ living and dead could feel some of the ache left by their separation ease as they spoke. Finally they ran out of words and simply sat together, Tumaini and Haydee curled up on the grass nearby. The twins sat side by side, nearly close enough to touch, quietly enjoying each other’s presence. The dead twin spoke softly as she ran an immaterial hand through the grass.
“You know, Charmer, you don’t have to be Carmen anymore.”
A heartbeat, then the living twin paled and her breathing hitched. The dead twin hesitated but forged ahead.
“Miranda is already buried on earth.
You could be Charmer all the time now,
Or you could pick a new name to fit in with the locals.”
Charmer was silent for a moment, watching her living twin out of the corner of her eye, then said gently, carefully,
“You don’t have to be Mother’s perfect doll.
Or to try to figure out how not to disappoint Pops.”
She hesitated, not wanting to push her twin too far, then finished,
“It’s safe for you to figure out who you are without-”
“Without having to die?” The question was spat out, but the twins had very few secrets from each other. Charmer knew, even without looking, her twin’s eyes would be shining and damp, her mouth compressed to prevent a betraying tremble.
“Yes,”
The word fell like a blow in the silence between them.
“I…” the words were stumbling and soft, and her sister cringed as she spoke, “I don’t know how to stop.” She’d started rocking slightly knees drawn up to her chest. Charmer waited. The next words were wailed into her sister’s knees, “I’m so tired, I can’t do it anymore and I don’t know how to stop!!” That wasn’t the worst reaction she could have gotten from her twin.Charmer willed supportstrengthholdlovealways into her twin through the connection that had never really broken, even in death. She wished fiercely she could still hold her twin.
“I wish you could hug me too.” Her twin’s shoulders slumped slightly, but her voice was still muffled as she buried her face further into her knees. Charmer cast about for something that might help then remembered some of the conversations she’d eavesdropped on, hanging around the medical rooms.
“I’ve been exploring and doing recon while you were in medical.
You wouldn’t be the only one to make a fresh start. A lot of the adults
are changing their names. Some of the kids are too.”
Her twin’s tearstained face appeared above her knees, the fragile glow of hope tentatively alive in her eyes. “Really?” Relief flooded Charmer’s presence, she hadn’t messed this up beyond repair just yet.
“Really.”
Neither twin mentioned the conversation once the younger girls woke up. But when Tumaini called the living twin Charmer, she didn’t protest.
* * * * *
Charmer didn’t confront her living twin for the next several days. They were taking the opportunity to explore the public areas of the temple while they waited for the rest of the group of kidnappees to be released from medical. Once most of the group, now calling themselves Terrans, were no longer under medical care, the Jedi showed them to a different section of the temple. It was clean, but had an air of emptiness about it, more than if people had been moved to make room for them.
“The ghosts around here say this section has been closed up for years”
Charmer confirmed, her blue figure keeping pace with her living sister.
Charmer Carmen led her little group to claim a small apartment. It was only one room, not including the generously sized washroom,
“They call it a fresher,”
With an included machine for cleaning clothes, but had a large nook that stepped up into a platform. There were hooks for a curtain, although one wasn’t present. The rest of the space was open with a galley kitchen on the wall opposite the bed nook.
“What do you think?” Charmer Carmen asked Tumaini and Haydee, signing as she spoke.
“I like room,” Tumaini said softly, “All stay?”
“You, me, Haydee, and Charmer,” Charmer Carmen confirmed. “If that’s ok?” Tumaini nodded vigorously. Haydee was already standing on the bed nook.
“There’s cabinets in the walls!” she called sliding one recessed cabinet open.
“I think she approves,”
Charmer Carmen left her sister in charge and went to get some essentials for their new room. When she staggered back under the load of bedding, her sister was coaching Haydee through helping Tumaini turn a cartwheel. They laid their new bedding out. The large futon, several pillows, a blanket for Haydee, an extra thick blanket for the twin who’d need it, and two extra blankets for Tumaini who felt the cold the most.
Once they had eaten and checked in with the Terran adults, all three girls curled up on their new bedding. The younger girls were out like lights after Charmer Carmen figured out how to dim the lighting. She didn’t sleep staring out in the room (she’d forgotten to get a curtain) thinking. She’d been mourning and clinging to the last things she had of the dead back on earth. But she and her sister had talked before about changing their names once they were legally able to. There was a stash of money still hidden behind an access panel at Grams house just for that.
Carmen wasn’t the name of a real person, just a dream of the perfect little girl their mother had always wanted. Miranda was an after thought, at best, a mistake at worst. She’d seen their birth certificates. Carmen Miranda Grey was born a couple of minutes before Miranda Grey, an echo, a reflection worthless. When their mother was in the hospital after they were born, presents would come for Carmen. Little outfits, toys, treats, but all for one kid, not for twins. Their aunt had taken care of them, and tried to hide it from them. But nothing could hide the way mother changed around whichever twin she’d decided was Carmen that day.
By the time their mother was able to come home, the twins knew how to have one of them be Carmen for the day and let the other hide as Miranda. The memories made her restless, so Charmer Carmen sat up, she needed to move. She tucked the blankets around Tumaini before she started pacing the room.
It wasn’t all big things after a certain age, just little things. Little gifts and treats for Carmen, nicer clothes, later curfew, different expectations. Love but with a price tag.
Was that still love?
The nice clothes were all picked by Mother, the later curfew because she was expected to have a boyfriend. She completed her fifth round of the room nearly running as her thoughts spun.
And being Miranda wasn’t any better. If she was too good, she was accused of impersonating Carmen. If Miranda got mad she was an ungrateful jealous girl who hated her parents. Too quiet, she was up to something. Too loud, she’d been sneaking their Pops moonshine.
There was a reason the twins switched who was Carmen and who was Miranda every chance they got. They were different people, she knew that. Her twin loved instrumental music and had wanted piano lessons. She’d hated the piano lessons, but loved to sing, at least when it was just her and her twin, sometimes their niblings. She despised carrots, her twin had hated cabbage. Little things, but that was just it. They weren’t the good twin and the bad twin. They were twins, with different likes and dislikes.
Charmer Carmen the living twin stopped in the middle of her circuit. Her thoughts kept whirling around and around mimicking the path her feet had been taking. What it really came down to was did she want anyone to call her Carmen anymore?
“I’m Carmen,” She tried to say. Just forming the words felt like a lie. “I’m Miranda,” just as bad, maybe worse. After all, like her twin had pointed out, Miranda had been buried.
Charmer was the name they had given themselves. But she hadn’t planned on making that her name once she was able to change it. That was one thing they hadn’t discussed together, what their names would be.
“Charmer?”
Her twin had come back from wherever she’d gone. She made a face at the name. It didn’t really fit her either.
“You said other Terrans had changed their names? What did they name themselves?” She felt understandingsympathyhope shiver through the bond between them.
“I don’t know all the names, but one of the younger kids is now Kaysh,
Another is Adenn. Jason, one of the older boys, helped them pick.
The names are apparently Mandalorian.”
“Like Jango Fett? I thought he was a bad guy?” She was puzzled, from what she’d seen the younger kids knew more Star Wars lore than either twin and hadn’t seemed to dislike the Jedi.
“Oh definitely,”
Her twin replied.
“He’s a bad guy. But the culture and language seem interesting,
We’re missing a lot of information about Star Wars factions.”
Carmen She shrugged, that wasn’t news. They’d only been allowed to watch the movies they’d seen when their oldest or youngest brothers were around. And Mother had reviewed their library books before they could check them out. Outside of the original and sequel trilogy's all they knew about star wars came from listening to school gossip. Her twin gave a rueful sigh, made weirder by the fact she didn’t actually seem to breath most of the time.
“More adults than kids have new names. Shareth ket Harmakhis,
Which has to be a new name.
Mabon, who I think changed her name on Earth.
One person who hasn’t picked a permanent name,
But is going by Libby. And…”
Charmer paused dramatically,
“Ca’senaar, who was named and possibly adopted
By one of the ghosts haunting this place.”
The loud “WHAT!” at that information woke both younger girls and prevented any explanation until the morning.
Notes:
At the beginning of the chapter Carmen references several characters I have not explained yet. There is a family tree in the extras, but if you can't see it. Jesse is the older brother closest to the twins age. Mary is their oldest brother's wife. Niblings is a collective term for nieces and nephews. And Maxie is the same Max referenced in chapter 2 and the twins youngest nephew.
The twins are an unreliable narrator when it comes to their immediate family because there’s a lot that they don't know. The twin’s mother was in the hospital, but she was there for physical issues only for a couple of months. She was an inpatient at a mental facility for years, but the family kept it very quiet. Only their father and aunt even knew she was in the psyche ward. The twins don’t look a thing like their father, and don’t strongly resemble their mother. They do look a lot like their closest neighbor’s kids and grandkids. The twins were nearly taken into care due to neglect, until their aunt moved in to look after things. It's not an excuse for the way they were treated, but there is context that the twins just don't have.
Chapter 8: Nina Cried Power
Summary:
Music is power, hope, and change. It can bridge more than the twins thought possible
Chapter Text
On their way to breakfast,
“They call it first meal here.”
On their way to first meal, Charmer explained to her living twin about the ghosts.
“There’s less of them here than there were on Earth, but they’re way noisier.
One of the armored ghosts told the bitey woman, the one with the Addams family
motto on her shirt, ‘Nee cry tal gusah ad, Ca’senaar’. She told him to buzz off.”
Charmer looked, well, charmed at the memory. Her twin cleared her throat pointedly.
“It was really cool,”
The dead girl defended. Her twin gave her a pointed glare. “How does that mean she was adopted?” she signed.
“One or two of the other adults and older teens have been adopting the kids,
and those are the words they use.”
Alright, so they had circumstantial evidence, not proof. A horrible thought occurred to her, “Are any of the ghosts going to try to adopt us?”
“I’ll fight ‘em if they try.”
Charmer said firmly,
“We don’t want or need parents.”
Haydee and Tumaini might , the living twin thought to herself.
Don't borrow trouble
Her sister responded, the familiar back and forth both grounding and heartbreaking.
After they ate in the cafeteria, (the food was bland, but didn’t seem to have any potential allergens) they joined the majority of the other Terrans in the large garden room. A whisper of a plan had gone around at breakfast. A way to test and see if Anakin Skywalker could be redeemed or if the more blood thirsty members of the group would need to try to find a way to kill him. It was a new song for the living twin and Tumaini. Haydee knew it and Charmer had learned after being dead. When Skywalker walked in the woman with the warpaint,
“That’s Ca’senaar”
Ca’senaar started the song even as she continued to show a couple of the teenagers fighting stances. The twins had been demonstrating stretches for Haydee and Tumaini.
The first lines struck something in all of them and they froze.
It's not the wakin', it's the risin'
It is the groundin' of a foot uncompromisin'
An energy hummed through the space. Like on the ship, but…more. She was standing on her feet, mouthing along to the words.
It's the heat that drives the light
It's the fire it ignites
It's not the wakin', it's the risin'
And she didn’t know the song, didn’t know the lyrics but, she heard her own voice. Not her twin’s this time, but hers.
It's the heaven of the human spirit ringin'
Barely audible at first as she mouthed along with the words, but louder as she allowed the song to pull her along.
It’s not the song, it is the singing
Louder and louder until she was singing, not strong enough to be heard by anyone but those in their little area, but louder than she’d managed in years.
And I could cry power (power)
Her sister was staring at her with a wild grin beginning to creep its way onto her face. The blue light that shaped her burned white hot, as joytriumphlovejoy blazed through the bond between them.
Power has been cried by those stronger than me
Straight into the face that tells you to
Rattle your chains if you love being free
And when the singers around them named different names who cried power,
Harriet cried,
Leia cried,
Martin cried,
She added her own names,
Alan cried,
Laney cried,
Carmen cried,
Miranda cried power.
Her sister, buried under that name, stared at her. Love shone in eyes that burned so bright she was a near white blur in her twin’s eyes.
* * * * *
It wasn’t a fix. She couldn’t make herself speak to anyone once the song was over. And the goal of the music hadn’t happened either. Skywalker had left the room, fled, really. But she had been heard. And she would make herself heard again. Even if her voice wouldn’t always cooperate, there had to be a version of sign language she could learn. But for now, she got Haydee and Tumaini up and went to join Ca’senaar’s group for defense lessons.
Notes:
I know Charmer doesn't get the gai bal manda right. She's only heard it once.
The names the living twin adds to the song are two members of their family who died alongside her twin. Alan was her oldest brother and Laney was his youngest daughter
I am a firm believer in the power of music, but it can’t fix everything. This is a turning point for the living twin. Don’t imagine the Differently Living twin is more put together, Charmer just had her mental crisis over the year her twin couldn’t hear her.
Chapter 9: Come Alive
Summary:
Names and other revelations
Notes:
mentioned death, and the Dead celebrating. If you've read Knives and Spices you should know who.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day all the teens could talk about was the sudden attack of laughter some of the Terrans had experienced early that morning. Thankfully, Charmer had been the only one afflicted within their group. Laughing so hard you required medical attention sounded miserable to her twin.
“What’s so funny?” a grumpy Haydee had asked once the force ghost had stopped laughing.
“The Dead were having a party. I think someone they really disliked died early this morning.”
Their local Dead person shrugged.
“I don’t actually speak their language anymore than you do. But it’s easier to sort of project
ideas to other Dead people. I’m working on figuring out Mand’o and Basic, but it’s hard
to do without some pushy ghost trying to adopt me.”
Her sister gave her an alarmed look, “Who?”
“One or two of the armored ghosts. Don’t worry Charmer, I’ve got it under control.”
The living twin gave her dead sister a skeptical look, but didn’t argue.
After breakfast first meal they went off to explore the temple some more. Tumaini split off to play with some of the Jedi kids. Haydee ran off after some of her friends from the ship a couple of minutes later. The twins kept exploring. Charmer could pass through walls to find interesting things. Her living twin had to find a way through. It got easier after she realized the Jedi Temple’s vent system was large enough for one petite teenager to wriggle her way through. It was nicer in the vents too. No Jedi to give her a sideye, distrustfearcontempt wafting off them like a noxious perfume.
They spied on the Jedi, watching the classes they gave the younger kids. The youngest of the Terrans were in the classes with the Jedi. The living twin was wary after the sideeye the Jedi had been giving her, so they watched to make sure the kids were alright. Charmer in the open, her twin tucked into the vents peering to see out.
She tried to pay attention to the lesson the kids were having, but her mind kept drifting to the question,
What’s in a name?
She’d had a list back on Earth of her favorites. She’d liked Joan or Harper the best on Earth, but she wasn’t sure now. She thought of one of the other names on her list. It fit her better now. And would be a way to carry the good parts of her family into the future with her. The noise level increased and she saw the class had ended so continued her slow exploration of the Jedi temple.
She was out of the vents exploring an unused section when she decided to tell her twin the new name she’d chosen. “Charmer?” The shimmering blue ghost turned to face her. “I picked a new name.” There was no triumph in her twin’s face, instead the echo of the joy she’d seen before. She swallowed hard, “I’m Jasmine, now” She hesitated, “I know you said we could both be Charmer but I don’t, I don’t want to have us go back to being seen as one person.”
“It’s ok Jazz,”
She was laughing as she said it. Jasmine huffed at her twin, both for the laugh and for already nicknaming her.
“I get it”
Now it was the dead twin’s turn to hesitate,
“It’s funny, because I’d already picked my new name, before …everything happened.”
Her smile was twisted and slightly bitter, but her eyes were only sad.
“I’m Ariel, Jasmina,”
Jasmine knew without asking that her twin hadn’t meant the disney character. That was what most of the Terrans would assume. Especially since Jasmine had chosen her name from the movie, partially anyway. “It suits you,” she told her twin. The smile she received in return was rueful.
“Better now than before,”
Jasmine made a face, but nodded reluctantly.
Ariel settled next to her twin leaning as if resting against the wall. Jasmine copied her. It was instinct, old and comfortable that made Ariel reach to tangle their fingers together. The press of palm to palm was different now, but still so familiar. Jasmine jolted after a moment, grip tightening on a hand that felt as solid as sunbeams, as mist, as the first rays of dawn and yet still there. “Ch-Ariel,” Jasmine gasped. Her twin’s head turned to frown at Jasmine, then widened when she saw their clasped hands.
“How…”
Ariel breathed staring at their clasped hands. Jasmine shook her head, fizzy soda bubbles of joy sparking through her veins. Ariel met her longing expression, disentangled their fingers and threw herself at her twin in a desperate hug. Jasmine clung back, light and coolness under her hands where the rough warmth of her twin had been. But the tight grip and gentle touch were still the same. Jasmine shook with sobs, joysorrowrelief flowing from one twin to the other. Finally the sobs petered out, and reluctantly the twins separated to sit side by side on the floor. Their hands once again clasped tightly together.
“What changed?” Jasmine asked quietly, not really expecting an answer. “Why can we touch now when we couldn’t before?”
“I think,”
Her twin said thoughtfully,
“We’re still getting stronger, growing into what we would have been,
without the Force nullification field, or whatever it is that meant none of
us could use our abilities on earth.
The girls were quiet for long minutes, just sitting and enjoying the oldest comfort they had.
“We should get up,”
Ariel said softly reluctantly,
“Just a little longer,” Jasmine said, her hand tightening on Ariel’s insubstantial one.
“A little longer,”
Ariel agreed easily.
Notes:
Virtual cookies to anyone who gets where the inspiration for Ariel’s name came from.
Chapter 10: Carmen Miranda's Ghost (is haunting the Temple Jetii)
Summary:
Featuring various Jedi and others reactions to two girls who are much less polite and sneaky guests than they were expecting.
Notes:
Carmen Miranda is truly a ghost now. Neither twin uses the name anymore. But since they are 'haunting' the Jedi right now it seemed appropriate to use a name that belongs in a grave. I meant for this chapter to come earlier, but the characters weren’t cooperating. Also I know very little about the characterization of the canon Jedi characters I use. If they seem out of character, sorry.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Carmen Miranda’s Ghost is haunting the Temple Jetii
Jedi Knight Melik Galerha sighed as he escaped the healing hall. He’d been injured on the last campaign and his creche-mate had bullied him into seeing the healers once they were on leave on Coruscant.
He and said creche-mate, Tarados Gunn, walked together back to the Knight quarters. At the end of the corridor Melik glimpsed a short blue figure. They’d been passing other Jedi on their way to the Knight’s quarters, but the Force nudged at him. He interrupted the story Tarados was telling to ask, “Have any new Padawans been Knighted recently?”
“Not since your last visit to the temple, my friend,” Tarados replied
“Then I think we have a Padawan or Initiate wandering the Knight quarters. And you know what that means.” Tarados made a face,
“Yes, paint or worse glitter everywhere. Where’d you spot them?”
“End of the corridor.” The two Knights quickened their pace. Of course by the time they reached the corridor junction there was no one in sight. “There!” a glimpse of blue down the left corridor. The two Knights hurried down the corridor searching in the Force when they didn’t immediately see anyone. A faint signature, like an attempt at a Shadow’s shield. Great, Melik grumbled to himself, Shadow Padawans didn’t just have glitter and paint for pranks, sticky glue and dyes would be involved as well. They followed the force signature until it led them to a dead end corridor. The blue figure was hovering by one of the vents.
Tarados slammed a hand out when Melik went to yell at the Padawan. Melik then picked up the details he’d missed. The figure was completely blue and he could faintly see the slats of the vent through her hand. She glanced back at them and then vanished. Melik spat a reflexive curse,
“Karking Force”
“Indeed,” Tarados cautiously approached the vent, checking the force intently as he did so. Melik cautiously joined him. After several minutes he had to admit,
“I’m not finding anything.” Tarados shook his head,
“Me either,” they exchanged uneasy looks. “Better tell Master Drallig.”
Half the Knights have seen them, plus the Temple Guards and Che
Master Drallig listened to their story calmly. When they were finished he sighed slightly, “That matches the stories the Guard have been telling me.” He tapped his finger on his lightsaber hilt before appearing to make up his mind. “Tell me, have you heard about the group of refugees housed in the temple?” Melik shook his head, but Tarados nodded.
“They came from somewhere in Wild Space, news is they’re all force sensitive.” Melik’s eyebrows rose as the Battlemaster nodded.
“Yes, all force sensitive, and most of them don’t speak any language we know of.” He sighed, “More to the point, they also have several different force training techniques. Madame Nu is currently tearing through the archives looking for references to abilities we’ve seen them use.” He tapped his lightsaber again. “We are on higher alert, but so far whatever it is has been harmless and the Council has concluded that it is some ability of the refugees.” Reassured the two Knights bowed to the Battlemaster and left him to continue on his way to the training salle.
* * * * *
Vokara sighed, rubbing at the base of her lekku where she could feel a tension headache lurking. Updating patient files had to be done, or the files would multiply like ash-rabbits. That didn’t mean she had to like it.
A noise she couldn’t quite identify, had her looking up. When she didn’t see anyone she reached out in the force and felt a soft presence. They felt close, but Vokara knew for a fact there should be no one in the room on the other side of the wall. And even if they were, they wouldn’t be in the ceiling. She narrowed her eyes at the vent set in the ceiling. “I know you’re there, come out this instant.” a sense of hesitation and Vokara upped her stern glare. Finally the grate popped out of the ceiling with a painful scrape. The face that popped out was older than she’d been expecting. It wasn’t an initiate with too much time on their hands, but one of the refugees.
Vokara remembered this one clearly. There weren’t many sentients who could shred the skin off their feet and still be able to walk the next day, bacta or not. The screaming force signature that should have alerted her of the child’s presence was blunted. Faded enough to be all but invisible in the current galactic Force atmosphere, even in the temple.
“Please come down out of the vent, child,” Vokara said, her voice much gentler than before. The girl eyed her warily, her eyes darting to the side as if listening to something. Vokara felt…something in the force where the girl’s eyes rested. It did not feel like a threat, but she shifted from behind her desk just in case. She covered the move by continuing to where she kept snacks for the younger initiates. She used the force to float the snack over to the shelf of datapads across the room from her position.
The girl’s eyes followed the treat until it rested on the shelf, then they returned to studying Vokara. Finally the girl dropped head first out of the ceiling, twisting as she fell. The Force slowed her movements so she had enough time to get her feet properly under herself. She stood there awkwardly, hands fidgeting in the loose sleeves of the wrap shirt she wore.
“Now child,” Vokara said, still gently, “What were you doing in the vents?” She sent a gentle wave of inquiry in the Force. The return of UNCERTAINCURIOUSNERVOUS made her wince and her lekku twitch. A much softer sorryaccidentoops had Vokara managing a smile for the mute child. “No harm done,” Vokara said gently projecting the same into the Force. “The snack is for you,” The girl looked from Vokara to the treat then reached out to take it hesitantly. Vokara was so focused on the child she missed the rapidly approaching force signature until it was nearly at her office door. A tall Cathar burst into the office projecting urgency and worry. Vokara felt the child’s sudden terrorfear- and the sudden absence in the Force. She glanced over to see the snack hit the ground, with no child in sight. She sighed to herself, another strange ability to add to the list for their refugees. She turned back to the latest emergency to enter her office door. Vokara placed the Cathar after a moment, a Senior Padawan, Yhuk Tom was usually a calm presence in the force. Today he was frantic,
“Master Che! You’re needed in surgery bay five!” By the time she was done performing emergency surgery on Yhuk Tom’s Master and calmed the poor child down, Vokara had forgotten her young visitor.
And if you think they’ve had too much of the Correllian’s rum
Just tell them where those basket hats of fruit keep coming from
A drunk pair of Senior Padawans sneaking to the kitchens stared confused at the large Beelpop melons stacked in their way. They had been stacked to make a pyramid that blocked the corridor. For reasons only known to beings who’d, between the two of them had, already downed a bottle of Correllian rum, they decided to levitate each other over the Beelpop melons. The melon avalanche that followed took out the levitating Padawan, Rhef Zira, causing the levitated Padawan, Qangeesfoant Hiamab, to fall victim to the melons as well. A concerned blue face peered down at Qangeesfoant once the melons had stopped rolling. They kept a soothing patter of words up until a curse from further down the corridor announced help had arrived.
When the Padawans asked after the young humanoid of an unfamiliar species (after they’d sobered up and the hangovers subsided), no one remembered seeing anyone.
Don’t go down to the Archives when no one’s on the clock
You just might hear maracas clack and get a nasty shock
:
Archivist Kehse Kirdamey had been called to cover an archive shift when Ti Wipto, the Archivist scheduled for the late night shift, had ended up in the Healers' care. He was carrying a small stack of datapads for reshelving when he spotted a stack of datapads out of place on a study desk. The last archivist would have done a sweep for stray datapads and these were too obvious to be missed. But no one had come into the archives on his shift. The Force was calm when he reached out to it, but he was still cautious as he reached out and turned on the top datapad. It was a child’s primer for learning Galactic handsign. Kehse felt more than a little foolish in his caution. He set his datapads down to shelve the stack, the shelf they went on was only two rows over.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw a small figure dressed in Jedi browns and creams. They’d been examining the datapads by the blue glow emitted by a second figure. The crouching figure looked up at him, causing the second figure to look up as well. Kehse got out a “Stop-” before the first figure vanished, the datapad in its hand clattering to the floor with a rattle, like a child’s shaker. The second figure vanished a moment later. Kehse decided the datapads could wait to be reshelved and made a hasty retreat to the main desk.
And if you hear a rumba beat, don’t pass the kitchen door
You just might see a muja fruit come rolling down the floor
Qangeesfoant Hiamab huffed as he hauled up another basket of ojomian onions. The baskets weren’t particularly heavy, but the heat in the kitchen was wearing him out. His Master had not been impressed with him getting drunk. So, Qang had been relegated to kitchen duty any time they were on leave. Any free time left he was supposed to spend meditating on the risks of addictive substances. Mostly he was just falling asleep as soon as he was still. On his way back to the storeroom he heard rhythmic tapping, and a young voice singing in a language he didn’t understand. Qang listened for the singer on his way back to the kitchen, but didn’t hear them again. He set the basket of muja fruit down on the counter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the distinctive reddish brown of muja fruit laying on the ground outside the kitchen door. Assuming he had dropped it, he bent to pick it up. There was a rhythmic rumbling and then a soft syncopated beat. He looked up to see a rolling mass of muja fruit bouncing in time to the beat headed his way. He yelled,
“Kark!” and threw himself out of the doorway. The fruit tumbled to a halt in the doorway to make a neat pyramid shaped stack. Several of the kitchen staff came over as the fruit stacked itself, still moving to that same beat. When it stopped moving the kitchen workers, Jedi and civilian all stared at each other. One new helper, a Twi’lek, asked hesitantly,
“Was that how the fruit normally gets to the kitchen?” A humanoid male shook his head slowly. They all stared at the fruit. It took a bit of arguing before Master Zao declared the fruit was perfectly fine, scooped up a handful and went back to cooking like nothing had happened.
Notes:
I split this chapter into two parts since it was getting rather long.
Carmen Miranda's Ghost is a real song by Leslie Fish. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbs4Ei--Gk4The fruit incidences weren’t meant to be mean, or for the Padawans to get hurt. In Star Wars Lore Master Zao makes a soup using Beelpop melons. Ariel saw the kitchen staff bringing melons up and saw them struggling with them. The twins were trying to be helpful, but Jasmine accidentally gave herself force exhaustion and wasn’t able to get the Beelpop melons to the kitchen. Then Ariel identified the Padawan they’d nearly squashed with the melons retrieving muja fruit and there was a Sorcerer's Apprentice style incident with the muja fruit.
Chapter 11: Carmen Miranda's Ghost (is still haunting the Temple Jetii)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They sometimes catch a glimpse of them by Temple night or day
But when they try to catch them, they just laugh and fade away
Two tendays into the refugees' arrival at the Temple and the Jedi still were not used to the Terrans among them. Many of the youngest had settled into the creche and were rapidly picking up Basic. The adults, with their strange, shadowed abilities made the Jedi wary. The children too old to train as Jedi were often the most unsettling of all. A group had sung something and the Room of a Thousand Fountains had been dusted with snow. That group had been led by a child who spoke Mandalorian.
The Guard encountered the Terrans the most as they moved about the Temple. Several of the Guard reported seeing a blue light, with no visible source, sometimes near the older children, other times around the Terrans young enough to be accepted into a crecheclan. Very rarely the same members of the Guard reported seeing the flickers near adults or without any Terrans nearby. Nothing was visible over any cameras, the flickers were only visible in person. A couple of the younger Guard started to make a game of trying to catch the flickers. Battlemaster Drallig had quickly forbidden it.
“The Guard,” he had lectured eying his subordinates sternly, “is meant to guard the Temple, to protect the heart of the Jedi order.” His glare became even fiercer, “Not to chase wisps of light with jars like younglings.”
“Couldn’t catch ‘em anyway,” a mumble came from the assembled group. “I think they’re laughing at us.” Battlemaster Drallig gave the speaker a quelling look.
The Temple’s chief mind-healer takes her notes and drains her cup
The Guards’ set spirit traps but they still keep showing up
Tinmay stared at Battlemaster Cin. She’d known the Battlemaster to joke on occasion, but not since the war started.
“You need me to check the Guard to make sure there is nothing influencing their minds. Because you caught them researching how to catch ghosts in the archives.” Her voice was flat.
Cin nodded grimly. “I’ve already had to dismantle two ghost traps in front of the Main Hall.” He rubbed his chin wearily, “I thought I was in charge of seasoned Jedi, not younglings and Padawans.” Tinmay laughed.
“I’ll check your Guards, old friend, but I suspect they are simply feeling the effects of the new lightness in the force.
Tinmay met with Cin in his office a week later. “I’ve checked a large part of the Guard, whatever they’re seeing to inspire them is real.”
“Does it seem malicious to you?” it was the Battlemaster who asked, not her old friend Cin. Tinmay thought for a moment, going over the descriptions and the memories shared by the Guard.
“I don’t believe so,” she finally responded. “Whatever they are, I think they’re just curious.” Cin nodded,
“That lines up with the impressions I’d gotten.”
They don’t know why they’re haunted here, or why it’s them that haunts
They’ve got a betting pool for all who wonder what they want
Lieutenant Shushai started at his platoon’s newest shiny. Ricya had earned his name barely five weeks earlier. The Jetii next to Ricya wilted under Shushai’s stern glower just as surely as Ricya. “Let me get this straight. You,” he pointed to the Jetii, “Want my shiny’s help to create a rig of motion detectors to catch a ghost.” The Jetii nodded slightly looking sheepish. “And you,” Shushai pointed to Ricya, “were trying to recruit some of the Jetii cadets to place the rig, and cameras deeper into the vents.” Ricya nodded meekly. Lieutenant Shushai sighed. “If we were in the barracks, you’d be on scut duty for the next week.” Ricya winced. “As it is I have volunteered you to help General Nu during our time here. You will report to the General at 1300 hours.” Shushai then turned to the Jetii, “General Drallig has requested you to report to the Council Chambers at 1400 hours.” The Jetii drooped as far as his armor would allow. Shushai couldn’t see the Guard’s face under the blank faceplate the Jetii Guard all wore. He was sure however that the Jetii was pouting as badly as Ricya.
After dealing with that mess, Shushai met up with three of his platoon’s four Sargeants, Jaw, Flame, and Hymmock. The last Sargeant, Oxx, was waiting in the Halls of Healing for the rest of their troopers to be finished with their surgeries. The Jetii had kicked the rest of them out of the Halls and told them to rest. Shushai knew some of the troopers were napping in one of the recovery rooms, while others were taking advantage of better food than the vode, especially those in the Corrie Guard, ever saw. Shushai, Jaw, Flame, and Hymmock found a group of Jetii commanders playing sabacc. They were playing for gossip and willingly dealt Shushai and his Sargeants in. After the second round where all four vode lost terribly to the commanders, Flame said suspiciously, “Is there some Jetii osik that helps you cheat at cards?” The female Zabrak to Flame’s left, Commander Jel, laughed and admitted,
“We sense emotions unless a being is particularly well shielded,” She gave a little shrug, “It helps with playing games like sabacc.” Jaw cussed, Shushai refrained, but agreed with the Sergeant. They knew Jetii could sense emotions, none of them had thought about how that would affect their ability to play sabacc.
“And of course we’re all practicing cheating,” the Mon Cala, Commander Vrasplor, said dryly. Hymmock threw down his cards in disgust. But he had lost the worst last round and had to come up with a bit of gossip no one else knew. The last two commanders, both humanoid, Commanders Nufler and Eashan, looked sheepishly at them. Jaw clenched his jaw stubbornly.
“Another round,” the Jetii exchanged looks, but didn’t argue. Shushai approved of Jaw’s initiative and let him know by gently knocking his foot against Jaw’s shin. Practice with shielding their minds from empaths could only be a good thing, after all the Sith could read emotions as well.
It took several rounds and the vode losing and then trying to come up with gossip that no one else had heard and wasn’t personally embarrassing. Finally though, Shushai won a round. Hymmock, who had been coaxed back into playing, whooped in excitement. The Jetii stared at Shushai’s winning hand in surprise.
“How…” Commander Nuflar flushed a light purple as he stared at the hand laid out on their makeshift card table. Flame grinned,
“You have to win to get the secret, jetii’ika.” The commander scowled, but his friends took the challenge with a laugh. As they shuffled the cards for the next round, Commander Jel, who’d gotten the losing hand, paid the forfeit.
“Have you heard about the ghosts in the Temple?” The other three commanders groaned, Jel continued undeterred when Shushai and his Sargents shook their heads. “There’ve been ghost lights seen in the corridors at all hours. One of the knights saw a face floating in mid air, with nobody attached to it. Someone saw it in the Archives and the next day all the pads in one section were rearranged so the whole room was tilted.” At the vode’s interest one of the other commanders chimed in,
“One of my crecheclan said they saw Beelpop melons dancing from the gardens to one of the kitchens.” Shushai was having a hard time picturing dancing Beelpop melons. One melon weighed at least as much as a first stage cadet and were about as tall or taller.
“Not dancing,” Commander Eashen disagreed, “Rolling. Quag got flattened by them, and he claims the muja fruit drummed themselves into the kitchen.”
“The same Quag who’s on kitchen duty until the Wandering Masters come back to the Temple, because he was falling down drunk?” Commander Eashen rolled her eyes at the other commander.
“He wasn’t drunk in the kitchen when the muja fruit came in.” Hymmock was staring between the two commanders mind obviously not on the game. Shushai caught two of his cards as they drifted casually down and gave Commander Jel a look. But with Hymmock’s cards he had a good hand, he called it, but Commander Vrasplor won. Shushai looked at his comm as it beeped, Oxx letting him know the last of their troopers were out of recovery.
“Last hand,” he warned to groans from his Sargeants. “I’ll get the forfeit,” he said, keeping in mind Commander Jel’s trick from the last round. “The surgeries all the clones are having to fix what the long-necks did,” Shushai was careful not to mention the chips to Jetii this young, opsec was something that took time and experience to teach cadets afterall. “The information came from some of the ex-slaves that escaped from that Zgerrian ship.” The four commanders stared at Shushai, eyes wide. They looked young, Shushai thought suddenly, Commander Jel was around the age of a last year cadet, but the bickering Eashen and Nuflar were at least two years younger.
“Really?” Nuflar asked, and when Jaw nodded solemnly, grinned. “The ghosts only showed up when the rest of the Terran refugees arrived in the Temple.”
“I bet the ghosts are trying to help the clones!” Eashen said enthusiastically.
“Bet what?” Nuflar asked sarcastically,
“A story,” Flame interjected, “I bet a story from the front the ghosts are here to steal General Nu’s archive.” The bets got more and more ridiculous and they never did place that final hand before Shushai had to herd his vod’ika off.
The best odds say they like the rhythms of the Temple's life
They didn’t have alien encounters while they were alive
The betting pool spread throughout the Temple from the Guards to the Padawans, to the High Council, much to the despair of High Counciler Ki-Adi-Mundi and to the Initiates in the crecheclans, much to the equal despair of Creche Master Evlath.
The initiates were fascinated by their new friends from Wild Space’s stories of ghosts. Some were scary, some were sad, others were comforting. The initiates bet treats and pretty buttons on which one their ghost was. The High Council bet on if the ghost really existed, and if it was light or dark. “Nonsense this is,” Yoda insisted, “Such things as ghosts there are not.” Mace Windu kept his silence, but privately disagreed. Something his former Padawan noticed and set out teasing him for.
The Padawans bet on what the ghost had looked like, and if it was friendly or not. “Horns!” one Iktotchi Padawan argued, “No! Fur!” a Bothan argued. Their masters pulled them away when the slap fighting started.
The Guard and secretly the clones visiting the Temple to get their chips out, bet on where the ghost would show up next, who had they been when they were alive, and on why they were being haunted. One of the clone troopers stopped by one of the Guard, “Seen a ghost today?” he asked. The Guard dipped their head a fraction of an inch. “Really!” the trooper pulled his helmet off to grin at the Guard’s blank mask. “Guess I owe you that story.” The trooper settled by the Guard to tell his friend a story. The Guard was still trying to figure out how the trooper was able to identify them individually and why he’d decided they were friends. The story was funny though.
The best odds were from the last betting ring. The number one bet was the ghost had shown up because it liked the way the Temple’s life was so different from where it had come from. The various groups did eventually agree the ghost or whatever it was, was firmly attached to the Terrans.
Carmen Miranda’s ghost is haunting the Temple Jetii
Not that they’re complaining, since the fresh fruit all comes free
Master Cin Drallig had an encounter with one of the adult Terrans and was no longer sceptical about the existence of ghosts. It was hard to be when a ghost spilled embarrassing nicknames to strangely competent strangers. However, his Guards were not behaving like the competent adults they supposedly were. So he went to ask Master Zao about the ghost. His kitchen was the first one to receive the random deliveries of fruit that were on going in the temple kitchens.
“Ha!” Zao laughed, “the little stars have been by several times with gifts for this old master.” He gave a quick stir to the pot in front of him. “I left them food too.” the Veknoid told Cin, turning to grab a pile of diced green something and add it to the pot in front of him. “Strange ghosts, those little stars,” Zao said a gleam in his blind eyes. “All stories of ghosts I ever heard, seldom did the ghost have the ability to eat food.” Cin frowned,
“Your sure it was the ghost?” Zao shrugged, tasting the soup on the nanowave cooker. He hummed and added a handful of ingredients to the pot, stirring again.
“Same force signature,” he said distractedly, rescuing a tray of bread rolls. “They left me a thank you note too.” He nodded to an out of the way counter. Cin sorted through the unwashed produce until he found the flimsi note. The letters meant nothing but, faintly Cin could sense gratitudesurprisehappiness faintly radiating off the note. Not a technique he knew, or one he’d heard about. Currently that meant only one thing. It was, if nothing else, confirmation that their ghost was somehow associated with the Terrans.
“Thank you for saving the note.” Cin told Zao, the elderly Veknoid pointed his ladle at him,
“Don’t scare them off,” he ordered. “They’re some of the best runners I’ve ever had. Anything they can figure out we need shows up within a couple of hours.” He shook the ladle furiously, droplets of broth splattering on Cin’s robes. “They’re a member of my kitchen crew, and not to be bothered by bored knights, reckless padawans, or curious Jedi Guard.” Cin gave a respectful bow to the elder.
“I shan’t disturb your kitchen crew, Master Zao.” Cin walked out of what was unquestioningly Master Zao’s territory
But now and then they wonder what it means for Galactic space
That ghosts from the Terrans’ past are so far from their birthplace!
Tholme laughed at Cin when he complained about the Temple’s obsession with the ghosts. “My former padawan has been a little busy with the living Terrans. Otherwise Quinlan would be poking around this mystery as enthusiastically as your Guards old friend.” Cin groaned,
“That might be the only thing that could make the situation worse.” He complained, “I can just imagine what additions Quinlan Vos would have for my Guards spirit traps.” Tholme’s lip twitched, the only indicator of the amusement he was releasing into the Force. “You can laugh,” Cin said to his old friend, “Just wait until Obi-wan is back. All of the sentients who’ve seen the ghosts are stronger in the Unifying or Cosmic Force.” Now it was Tholme’s turn to groan. Obi-wan was sure to be able to see the ghosts, which meant Quin was sure to get involved. The friendship from their padawan days was still strong even now that both were Masters. Which, in turn meant Tholme would soon be sharing Cin’s headache. The two Jedi sat quietly in Tholme’s quarters for a time, sipping on their tea and enjoying the reprieve from chaos and responsibilities.
“I had a thought on your ghosts,” Tholme said as he savored his tea.
“They are not my ghosts.” Cin protested.
“That was the thought,” Tholme explained, humor and mischief threading through his force signature. Cin was abruptly reminded that the other Jedi had raised Quinlan Vos and being around that much chaos had to have an effect. “I wonder if the Terrans will have anymore of their ghosts follow them into space or if they’re limited to the ones that came with them.” Cin had the sudden image of the Jedi Temple flooded under hundreds of curious blue whisps that turned up in unexpected places and brought random gifts of kitchen supplies. He groaned,
“Force take me if that happens,” he muttered into his teacup. Tholme’s face remained a mask of Jedi serenity, as he replied, “Then I suppose you would be able to see the ghosts directly at least.” Cin sighed and gave his best glare at the other Jedi’s lying serene face. Tholme just continued to calmly sip his tea and laugh at him in the Force.
Notes:
Mindhealer Tinmay is one of Argentee’s characters, cameoed with permission.
I love Zao so much. His existence makes my day. He’s just this grouchy blind old Veknoid who made his lightsaber into a walking cane and kitchen utensil. I have no idea how that works, but as soon as I read his description in the Wookiepedia I knew he’d be making an appearance in my story. And Sargeant Jaw makes another appearance, I like him and Lt. Shushai so they’ll probably pop back up again. Ricya is CT-9511, and like his commanding officers, he’ll probably show back up again.
I headcannon that the different Force types are like the pokemon stat indicators. Where a person is stronger in one area, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have some abilities in other areas.If you haven’t read the Knives and Spices series, the some of the other Terrans have alerted the Jedi to the existence of the chips, so Order 66 won’t be a problem. We’ll start having interactions between my characters and Star Wars characters once Jasmine can communicate.
Chapter 12: Erased
Summary:
Back on Earth, the twins’ family deals with the disappearance of the living twin.
Notes:
I’ve been struggling with the next chapter of the main story, so have an interlude from Earth. This does include the twins' father, so be prepared when you get to that section.
The song for the title of this chapter is by Vixy and Tony
https://www.vixyandtony.com/lyrics_erased.html
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Mary woke up to the ringing of her cellphone.
“ ‘ullo,” she mumbled into the phone.
“Rosemary,” the tremble in her Aunt’s voice had Mary wide awake in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” She was getting dressed even as she asked.
“Carmen is missing,” Mary dropped the phone.
“What,” she said once she’d grabbed it again, “Aunt Chrys, what do you mean Carmen is missing.”
“We woke up this morning and she wasn’t in the house.” the quaver was back in her usually tough as nails Aunt’s voice. “I went out looking for her, but all I found was a shoe. The Sheriff won’t come out until she’s been gone 24 hours.”
“What!” Mary couldn’t help but yell into the phone. At her Aunt’s sob, she marshaled herself. “Aunt Chrys, I’m going to hang up. Call your friends, doesn’t one of Mom’s friends have tracking dogs?” She heard a shaky breath through the phone,
“Yes, one of your Dad’s hunting buddies trains hunting dogs.”
“Call him,” Mary instructed, “I’ll do what I can from here.” She hung up and started calling people. It took several favors but she was able to get a high school friend to light a fire under the police in her hometown. She then called her boss,
“I’m taking emergency leave, effective now,” It was just after 4am so she wasn’t surprised by the groggy,
“What? Who?” from the phone.
“Rosemary Grey, sir, I’m taking emergency leave effective now.”
“Mary, what’s going on?” her boss sounded alarmed, “There’s a training session scheduled for 0730, you can’t just leave.”
“Sir,” Mary hesitated, “Frank,” she very seldom used her boss’ first name. “I don’t know what’s going on myself. My aunt called me at 0245 this morning in tears, saying my sister-in-law had gone missing.” Frank was silent for a moment.
“Alan’s sister?” he asked, more gently, “Is it possible the girl ran off?”
“No, sir,” Mary told him, finishing zipping up her duffel bag. “Or at least I don’t know how she would run off with just one shoe. The local police were unhelpful when my aunt contacted them. I called in some favors, but I need to be there.” For if we find her, or a body went unspoken.
“Right,” Frank sighed, “I’ll get someone to cover training, but Mary this can’t keep happening.” Mary snorted into the phone,
“If I’d had my way Carmen would have been in my custody from the beginning, but my father-in-law wouldn’t let her leave the country.” Mary locked up the base housing she had been living in and headed toward the gate, suitcase and duffel bags in hand. “It won’t be a problem again even if I have to get lawyers involved.” Her mouth quirked in a grim smile. “One of my brother-in-laws lives in the house with his father now. He’s enough on his own to get custody completely revoked.”
“Good luck Mary,” Frank said, “I hope you find her.” Mary ended the call and breathed,
“So do I,”
* * * * *
When the phone rang, Thyme groaned, “Can’t your friends do without you for one day,” Rue shot him a quelling look.
“Hush you, its mom.” Thyme leaned forward ignoring the papers spread on the table to fix his eyes on Rue’s phone. As soon as she answered Thyme called out,
“Hi Mom!” Rue groaned. Then sobered quickly at something their mom said.
“Ok Mom, you’re on speaker.” Their mom’s voice sounded stressed as she spoke,
“Carmen went missing from your Grams house sometime last night.”
“What!” the twins yelled.
“I don’t know much more than that, I’m on my way now. You two can either stay at school or head to Grams if you can.”
“We’re on our way,” Rue answered for both of them.
“Good,” their mom sounded approving, “I have to hang up, the airplane is taking off.” The twins chorused their goodbyes and their mom hung up. Rue looked at Thyme,
“Give me your keys, I’ll pack a bag for each of us.” Thyme fished a keychain out of his pocket and passed it to his twin. They quickly gathered up their papers and stuffed them into their bookbags. As they hurried out of their favorite basement study room, Thyme muttered,
“Why is it always them?” Rue’s eyes remained fixed in front of her furious,
“Grandmother and Pops, there’s always been something weird with their relationship with the little twins. You know Mom and Dad wanted to adopt them when they noticed things weren’t right.” She glanced over her shoulder at her brother and met an identical angry, frustrated look. They knew something had happened when their young aunts were babies. It was why Uncle Coby hadn’t spoken to their grandparents in over a decade. The twins' parents had been careful never to speak of it in front of them, but something had happened after Aunt Phani had died. And then the shooting happened. And they had lost their dad, baby sister, grandmother and one of their aunts. Carmen had been in a coma for a month and Pops might as well have died too. Rue clenched her hands into fists and poured her temper into speeding across campus. Thyme following in her wake.
Students were detouring out of their way as Rue marched toward the dorms. Thyme peeled off to talk to the ROTC officer on campus. The creep that lived on the boys side of the dorm took one look at Rue’s face and wisely closed his door without saying anything. Rue was outside the dorm waiting on Thyme within fifteen minutes, two duffel bags over her shoulders. Thyme pulled up in the beat up truck they’d saved up and bought together when they were eighteen. They’d spent the summer at their Grams rebuilding the engine with Carmen as a silent assistant.
“We’ve got three days,” Thyme said as Rue climbed in, ditching their duffels on the bench seat. Rue nodded and they started on the four hour trip to their Grams house. Unlike most road trips the twins were mostly silent as they drove. Rue’s foot was heavy on the gas pedal when it was her turn to drive. They made the four hour trip in three. Thyme was driving when they reached their Grams, he was less likely to put the truck in a ditch or burn out the motor.
The house was a kicked anthill when they reached it. Rue murder walked her way through the crowd, people diving out of her way, to seize her Grams in a hug. Thyme’s hug of their Aunt Chrys was a little less abrupt but just as tight.
Thyme turned to the uniformed officer on the porch once he’d set his aunt down. “What’s the situation sir?”
By the time Rosemary made it to her mom’s house the situation had escalated. She could see as she drove up, Rue holding back her twin. That was a bad sign, it was usually the other way around. Mary got out the car in time to hear Thyme shout.
“We didn’t know! Damn you, she was in a coma for a month. Pops was the one who identified the bodies.” Mary stepped on the porch with a bad feeling. Her mom and aunt turned to face her, as did most of the uniformed contingent on the porch. Her twins did not, although she knew they noticed her. Neither did the man who was the subject of both of their attention.
“What’s going on?” Mary’s heart sank when she saw her mom’s expression, “I take it no one has found Carmen?”
“Ma’am,” Mary recognized the man who stepped forward as the chief of the local firebrigade. “That’s part of the problem, we can’t be sure it’s Carmen that’s missing.” Mary narrowed her eyes, it had been a long 18 hours and she was not in the mood for riddles. He seemed to sense that and elaborated, “We determined the shoe found in the field does belong to the child who’s been living with your mother.” the bad feeling intensified. “Ma’am, there’s no easy way to say this, but the prints we pulled belong to Miranda Grey, not Carmen Grey.” Mary didn’t understand, she asked the first question that popped into her head.
“How do you have Miranda’s fingerprints on file,” the slightly numb feeling in her heart was spreading.
“The girl was arrested for joyriding on a tractor a couple of years ago.” Mary was trying to understand what the chief was telling her. Miranda’s finger prints, but Miranda was supposed to be dead. Her father-in-law had identified the bodies. Had they buried Carmen and then been calling her twin by her name for the last year? The horror Mary was feeling was reflected in her mom and aunt’s eyes. The twin’s usually clear blue eyes were stormy with rage. Mary shook her head,
“We can figure out what is going on once we find her, whichever of the twins she is.” But although they searched all night and for the next couple of days, they couldn’t find a trace of Carmen or Miranda other than the shoe left behind. The dogs were no help, as soon as they reached the spot where the shoe had been they ran away yelping in distress. Mary had been thinking the whole time they searched, and when the search was called off for lack of leads and Carmen Miranda?, her sister in laws’ picture was added to the list of missing children. Mary went to see her father in law.
It was an hour’s drive to Reuben Grey’s farm. Mary had to send her twins back to school, they’d argued but she’d promised them a full report. She knew if Rue and Thyme were with her, she wouldn’t get the truth out of the old man. The neglect was obvious as she pulled into the driveway. The garden around the house was dead and there were tools strewn all over the yard and on the porch. Mary picked her way through the debris field to bang on the front door. It took several minutes of knocking before the door opened. It wasn’t the man she’d come to see. Her brother in law, Dexter stared at her. As usual a fog of marijuana surrounded him, and his pupils were pinpricks even in the dim evening light.
“Dexter,” Mary said flatly, “I need to speak to Rueben.” The pause as Dexter filtered her words past his drug-addled ears did not improve her mood.
“Yeah, yeah, c’mon in.” Dexter wandered away from the front door. Mary stepped into the old farmhouse for the first time in over a year. Inside the house was worse than outside. Mud tracks went from the front door into the recesses of the house, more tools were scattered on the livingroom rug and antique coffee table. Mary winced mentally. Her mother in law had been a grade A bitch, but Mary had fond memories of Alan and Laney in this house. It hurt to see how badly it was neglected, one more memory marred. Rueben had fallen to pieces without his wife and the house made that obvious. Mary almost felt guilty for coming in demanding answers, but only almost.
When Rueben finally shuffled out of wherever he’d been, Mary studied him. He didn’t appear to have taken up Dexter’s habits, but she could see his bloodshot eyes and smell the whiskey from where she stood. “Mary,” the old man said, and she could see a wobble to his walk that made her suspect he was already drunk.
“Rueben,” she replied neutrally, “I have some questions for you about the twins.” Concern twisted his face,
“Are Rue and Thyme alright?” Mary sighed,
“My twins are fine. I have questions about your twins,” Reuben frowned at her,
“Dexter was just here if you had questions.” Mary abruptly lost her patience with him.
“I’m not talking about any adults,” she snapped, “I’m referring to your daughters.” Reuben froze his hands trembling, then finally said,
“I don’t have any daughters,” while Mary was still processing that load of crap, Reuben turned as if to leave. Mary snapped a hand out and dragged him back around to face her.
“If that’s the way you feel old man, why didn’t you give Alan and I custody years ago?” She was furious, at Rueben, at Alan, at herself. There had been something wrong in this house for years, but she had never been able to get to the bottom of it. And now that she was it might be too late for the people, the children who mattered the most in this whole mess. Reuben couldn’t turn away, not with her hand still gripping his shoulder, but he did avert his eyes.
“Kalla wanted a girl,” he explained, “she wanted one so much, but all we ever had were boys. Then the doctor said she shouldn’t have anymore kids after Jesse, that it would be dangerous to her health, so I got a vasectomy.” He met her eyes at last. “The girls aren’t mine, they don’t look like me, or my boys. They do look like one of the neighbors’ girls.” That made things click in Mary’s head, and her fist clenched. But she needed more answers.
“Why did you tell everyone that Carmen had survived?” At the confusion on Rueben’s face she shook him, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Carmen is missing, but when they ran her prints, they said the child who’s been living with my mom is Miranda.” Understanding filtered onto the old bastard’s face.
“Kalla pushed the one who lived down, I just assumed it was Carmen she’d pushed,” the sick feeling in Mary’s stomach increased.
“You couldn’t tell?” Reuben had the audacity to shrug the shoulder she wasn’t holding.
“Kalla always knew which one was the one she wanted. Carmen Miranda was the girl she’d always wanted.” Reuben had the nerve to give her a compassionate pat on the hand. “If I’d know Miranda was the survivor I wouldn’t have fought you about taking her with you out of the state.” Mary couldn’t process this, she refused. She let go of Reuben and walked toward the front door. She heard his clumsy steps as he followed her. “Hey, when you see Thyme and Rue tell them to stop by on their next break.” Mary turned back towards the old bastard,
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I got a surprise for them. You want to see?” That was it Mary had enough of this. Reuben didn’t even see the blow that knocked him off his feet coming. He lay on the porch clutching his jaw staring up at Mary in shock.
“I don’t want to see your surprise, you old bastard. And given that I promised to tell my twins what I got out of you, I’d be surprised if you ever saw them again.” Mary marched her way to the rental car ignoring Reuben’s cries from behind her.
She had to pull over only a couple miles down the road. Her eyes were too blurry to see.
“Damn him,” she whispered into her hands, “Damn him.” That would be the last time she had anything to do with that old bastard. If When they found Miranda she would do what she should have done in the first place and hire a lawyer to deal with him. She wiped her eyes and shifted the car back into drive. It was a long drive back to the airport. Before she pulled back onto the road she whispered a prayer to the night sky.
“Keep her safe, wherever she is,”
Notes:
I made myself cry writing this. I like Rosemary, Rue, and Thyme, they’re the other reason Jasmine named herself Jasmine. Rue and Thyme are three years older than their aunts, so they are in college in the ROTC program.
Chapter 13: Memory
Notes:
Timelinewise this chapter occurs at the same time as the second section of Carmen Miranda’s Ghost
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine was slowly getting used to living in the Jedi Temple. The younger Jedi, the Initiates were like any other kids. They just had the ability to walk on the ceiling and other tricks impossible on Earth. The older Jedi, from the Padawans and older, mostly looked at them like they were wrong, bad, should have died too criminals. One of the Jedi in charge of the children around Tumaini’s age was especially bad.
He glared at Jasmine whenever she dropped Tumaini off at her classes. If she tried to sit and eat with Tumaini and her friends the way some of the Padawans and Jedi would, he came and sat right across from her and glared through the meal. Ariel shadowed him for a full day after that. She watched him closely as he interacted with Tumaini, but he treated Tumaini like any other initiate. He only seemed to have a problem with Jasmine. She tried not to let it bother her.
She did have good distractions. Jasmine, with Ariel’s help, was trying to figure out what she’d done on the slave ship during their flight to freedom. So far she’d succeeded in purposefully teleporting to Ariel. Jasmine knew she could teleport to other people besides her twin. Everyone had been startled the night she discovered that; Jasmine, who knew Ariel was beside her and wasn’t expecting to teleport; Haydee when Jasmine appeared next to her; and the Jedi Archivist who’d discovered her. She still felt bad about vanishing, and probably scaring the Jedi who’d surprised her. They had reasoned out that her ability to teleport had to be less limited than just going to people based on their escape from the slave ship. Jasmine was still trying to teleport to someone other than her twin on purpose and hadn’t even begun to figure out how that bit worked quite yet.
She was slowly growing a little bit more comfortable with the other Terrans, voluntarily spending time with the group outside of the mealtime check ins. She did not spend any time around the women who’d been in the cage with her. She’d only really seen one of them, but she’d promptly turned and gone in the opposite direction, towing Haydee and Tumaini with her. But she tentatively liked some of the others. She understood Ariel’s hero worship of Ca’senaar, she wanted to be able to defend herself and her people like that someday too. They’d been inspired by the sewing circle Ca’senaar had started and had started to adjust her and the younger two’s clothes. She’d even sat with the sewing circle a couple of times to work. The patterns were a little beyond her still and she was working up the nerve to ask for help with making Haydee a couple of outfits she actually liked. Haydee was not a fan of Jedi outfits. Once she was trying to interact with the adults, Ariel had informed her,
“Sera has a ghost too,”
Sera was the medic with bright red hair longer than the twins' hair had been before Ariel died.
Just…Before.
Ariel was a bit intimidated by Locke, Sera’s ghost brother, and hadn’t said hi yet. Jasmine wasn’t judging, she was too shy to try speaking to Sera, and she was pretty sure Sera knew at least a little sign language. The other Terrans seemed to be finding places for themselves. Even Kaysh, the other, much younger kid she sometimes saw in the vents had found a group to be around.
Jasmine thought hopefully that maybe she was finding that too. Healer Che seemed to like them, even when she was making extra work for the overworked healer. Part of figuring out how to teleport was figuring out how many times they could teleport before falling over. Jasmine saw Healer Che and the other nice Healers a lot at first. She was getting better at judging it before she collapsed. Healer Che had still fussed the last time she’d seen her.
Besides Healer Che, the Jedi in one of the smaller kitchens kept leaving out food for her. It was really good and she’d saved some for Tumaini and Haydee when it was something she could wrap up and carry away. He would talk to her or Ariel if he was alone in the kitchen. Or at least they assumed he meant them. Jasmine could speak a little Basic, but he had an accent she had trouble understanding. She’d made a sort of schedule for herself, but the lack of classes or structure meant even exploring and helping in the kitchen couldn’t save her from boredom completely.
So when she’d heard the tabletop game being discussed, she’d come to watch. They’d never been allowed to play any RPG’s and both girls were desperately curious. When the first session ended, Jasmine had to shake the pictures of a vast space between realities from her mind. The Jedi were still wandering around giving the gaming area a wide berth. Jasmine saw one of the women,
“That’s Sharl, Jasmine, and I think they don’t use gender,”
Jasmine had to stop and think about that for a moment. She knew that was a thing, but she’d never knowingly met someone like that before. Her mother would have been outraged, her Pops would have been disgusted. That was reason enough to be as accepting as possible.
“Absolutely! And there they are, so go ask!”
Jasmine hesitantly approached Sharl, and waited to be noticed. Sharl looked up from fiddling with something on their phone to give Jasmine a slight smile. Jasmine didn’t know if they understood sign language. So she pointed at the phone and made a confused face. It took a second but understanding lit their eyes after a moment.
“Mabon grabbed a bunch of gear off the ship before we were moved here. Did you have stuff when you were grabbed?” At Jasmine’s nod, they said, “Mabon put a bunch of the unclaimed stuff in the common area. I can show you if you like?” Jasmine hesitated they’d been nice, but she wasn’t really ready to be in a room with someone focused mainly on her. So she shook her head quickly. Sharl waved as they left and Jasmine gave them a shy wave back.
When she checked the common room in their area of the temple she didn’t find her bag, but her jacket was there. It was an ugly faded puce, too big, too hot, and probably weighed ten pounds. But the sheepskin lining was still soft and the leather shell had been well preserved, despite the color. It had been Alan’s and he had gotten it from Papa Lucky, Mary’s Dad. He’d left it hanging in the closet of her room at Grams. If she pressed her face into the sheepskin lining she could still smell Alan’s cologne under the scent of the sheepskin, leather and the cedar Grams used to keep the moths away.
When she checked the pockets she found; her cherished music player and earbuds, a worry doll Auntie had made her, the loudest whistle Grams had been able to find, and a plastic sleeve with a picture of her nibblings on one side and the twins together on the other. As well as the usual pocket things, crumbled papers, half melted mints and a rubber band or two.
Jasmine cleaned the debris out of the pockets and gently placed the jacket on one of the hidden storage shelves in their room. The other items she placed gently on the shelf next to it. Ariel hugged her around her shoulders, the pressure easing the knot of unshed tears in Jasmine’s throat. After a moment Jasmine sighed, wiped her hands across her face and tucked the memories away. “Let’s go see if they need help in the kitchen.” The Jedi in charge of Jasmine’s favorite kitchen was making soup again, so Jasmine wore herself out moving Beelpop melons from the storage room to the kitchen. The effort kept her from thinking and remembering for a while. If that night she curled up and cried into the jacket, only Ariel was awake to tell and she never would.
Jasmine had taken to wearing the jacket draped over her shoulders in their little room. When Haydee and Tumaini asked about it, Jasmine told them,
“It was my oldest brother’s jacket before he died. I miss him.” They were in their room so Jasmine spoke as she signed.
“Didn’t he stay,” Haydee asked, “Ariel is still here.” Ariel gave them a sad smile,
“It doesn’t quite work like that.”
She explained as she and Jasmine exchanged glances. They’d talked about it a little but Jasmine didn’t really like to talk about the exact realities of being Dead.
“How does it work then?” Haydee asked undeterred. Jasmine focused intently on the seam of the shirt she was sewing. She’d gotten the courage to ask for a pattern to make Haydee an outfit or two she’d like.
“It’s what you believe. Our family believed that the Dead went directly
to heaven or hell.”
Ariel shrugged,
“I could have gone on, Alan wouldn’t have minded my company on the way.
But I would never leave my sister alone.”
Jasmine tried not to feel guilty about it. She should tell Ariel she was alright and she didn’t have to stay if she didn’t want to, but she was selfish. She didn’t want Ariel to leave. Her twin came over to sit by her side as Haydee lost interest in the subject.
“I mean it, you know. Heaven, Hell, or whatever’s in between,
We go together.”
Ariel leaned into her sister,
“No hurry, Jazz. I want to wait.”
Ariel smiled as Jasmine leaned slightly into her insubstantial frame.
“I mean who would be willing to go with a whole universe
to discover! We’re a long way from Kansas, Toto,
but Oz seems like a pretty cool place. And we even get to be Glinda.”
That made Jasmine laugh and ask,
“Does that make Palpatine the Wicked Witch of the East?” Ariel laughed too and nodded.
“And all of the Terrans are Dorothy’s house.”
The twins were quickly laughing too hard to speak and Tumaini and Haydee had to wait for them to calm down to get the answer to, “What's so funny?”
Notes:
Jasmine is doing her best, but trauma leaves a mark and she is the naturally shyer of the twins even before the trauma/selective mute issue. She mostly just shows up at Ca’senaar’s sewing circle and watches carefully out of the corner of her eye. Very cat-like behavior is happening. I had not planned on the explanation of why Alan and Laney hadn’t lingered, but Haydee had questions.
Chapter 14: A Small Flashlight
Summary:
The Terrans get more options and information from one of their own.Jasmine makes some choices
Notes:
Jasmine is an unreliable narrator and her trauma responses are not great.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine was helping Haydee experiment with her particular force talent when one of Haydee’s friends came running into the Room of One Thousand Fountains, yelling excitedly.
“Everybody come on!” the kid yelled “they want everyone, one of the escapees is back!” Haydee and Jasmine looked up from the plant the younger girl had been coaxing into bloom. It had tiny buds on the branches where it hadn’t had any an hour earlier. Sighing at the interruption, Jasmine waited patiently as Haydee untangled her presence from the plant and tucked it politely back into her skin. Then they hurried to the main large room the Jedi allowed them to use. The woman Jasmine glimpsed in the middle of the mob of excited chatter and organized chaos was one of the singers Jasmine remembered from the ship. She’d sung ‘the Female of the Species,’ and ‘Never set the Cat on Fire.” Jasmine observed as the crowd of women sorted themselves under the singer’s direction into groups based on languages spoken. The teens and tweens were ushered away to look after the littlest kids. Jasmine went with them even though she really wanted to listen, but that was a lot of adults in one place.
“Don’t worry Jazz, I’ll listen in.”
With that assurance from her twin Jasmine joined the younger Terrans where they all by unspoken agreement waited in one of the large spaces close to the gardens to hear the news. It was the first time she’d really been around the whole group since the first couple of days after she’d been released from the Halls of Healing.
She lingered on the edge of Haydee’s group of friends, keeping an eye on Tumaini and one of the other children, Elizabeth, maybe, as they played. Tumaini had figured out the gravity is optional trick some of the kids could do, She’d only fallen a couple of times and Jasmine or Ariel had been able to catch her each time. It still made Jasmine nervous every time. She kept part of her attention on Haydee’s friends as she watched Tumaini run on the ceiling and walls and try to coax the other children into following her as she ran giggling around the room.
“-Mandalorians. They like kids and everybody wears armor.” That explained why the Singer had been wearing bits of armor. From what little Jasmine knew about Star Wars, and had picked up from Haydee who knew more and was friends with some of the kids who spoke Mando’a, the Mandalorians were very sensible. Star Wars main plot shenanigans happened all over the place, which mostly seemed to mean people getting kidnapped, for drama; sold into slavery, for drama; or killed, also for drama. Having a good set of armor between you and those kinds of shenanigans seemed like a really good idea to Jasmine.
After the meeting broke up and the adults collected the kids, Ariel found Jasmine.
“The Singer’s name is Angeline. She got adopted by a Mandalorian.
She confirmed what Jason’s been telling Haydee and her friends.
Mandalorians are united by a common vow, not blood or planet.”
Ariel frowned counting off on her fingers,
“Mandalorians promise to follow six principles. One, all Mandalorians wear armor.
Two, everyone learns to speak the Mandalorian language. Three, you defend your family.
Four, you contribute to the success of the clan, so no lazy layabouts. Five, is just like the Catholics,
any children are raised as Mandalorians. The last one is that all Mandalorians rally to the Mand'alor,
the leader of the Mandalorians, when called. It’s not really a concern since no one has been
able to agree on a Mand’alor in a long time.”
Jasmine nodded and signed, “What about Jedi?”
“They don’t like Jedi, but they don't have a problem with Force users in general.
They call them Ka’ra touched, star touched.”
Ariel sighed and scrubbed a hand through blue see through curls.
“The Republic’s got an occupational government on Mandalore. Their puppet is called
Duchess Satine Kryze. She is apparently running a cultural genocide, disguised as pacifism.
And she’s got a eugenics program like Hitler, with all her faction being blue eyed blondes.”
Jasmine made a disgusted face and signed, “So Mandalorians are out?” to her sister’s surprise Ariel hesitated.
“The local Mandalorians seem sensible enough. Ms. Angeline was wearing armor.
I think they have a government in exile situation.”
Jasmine frowned considering that, then signed, “That means political messiness and potentially civil warfare.” Her sister shrugged, they’d both read the same history books,
“Well, as long as it's just between Mandalorian factions it will be pretty quick.
Duchess Kryze has been disarming her people in the name of pacifism and the rest of
the Mandalorians live in armor. Ms. Angeline’s a cook and you saw all the armor she had on.”
Jasmine nodded thoughtfully. Going to the Mandalorians would remain a possibility then. If it had just been her and Ariel she probably would have already left the Temple. The looks the Jedi gave the Terrans older than six or seven made her feel like Miranda again were not welcoming. A combination of suspicion and disapproval. But Haydee and Tumaini were firmly trauma bonded to her and Jasmine wouldn’t vanish on them. Haydee had made friends with the other Terrans around her age or a little older. Tumaini had been telling her all about her two best friends, both Jedi initiates. So they would stay as long as the younger girls were happy. Jasmine would just have to get better at teleporting and staying out of the Jedi’s way.
She did show herself when the adult Terrans started distributing translation chips and translator droids. The droid she received was old but able to understand galactic sign language. Between it and the datapad she’d liberated from the archives, Jasmine was able to increase her absorption of the new language. She practiced every night with Haydee and Tumaini, teaching the younger girls new signs as she learned them and signing as she spoke in Basic.
She was also getting better at avoiding the Jedi when wandering through the temple. She still helped in the kitchen but the cook was blind so she couldn’t sign to him. Now the only Jedi she regularly saw were the Guards. Ariel tried to talk her into at least being seen by the kitchen crew. But Jasmine was tired of the looks. She couldn’t escape Carmen Miranda even after leaving the planet She would have avoided the Guard too if she could.
“Jasmine, please, you have to be around more than just Haydee and Tumaini.”
Jasmine gave her sister a look. “I eat with everyone, and go to Ca’senaar’s sewing circle,” she protested flatly.
“But you don’t talk to them,”
Ariel stepped in front of her sister, blocking her way.
“Please, Jasmine. Just start with saying hello. You don’t have to stay and have
a conversation. Work up to that. But please, say hello at least.”
To get her twin to stop nagging Jasmine started signing ‘Hello’ to the Jedi Guards she passed in the corridors. The first time she’d signed to a Guard she’d felt them give a startled surprisehappysurpriseworry before they stopped emoting. They didn’t reply, none of the Guards replied for the first day or two. Then when Jasmine passed one standing guard by the Halls of Healing and signed ‘Hello’, they replied,
“Hello.” After that anytime Jasmine signed to the Guard they would respond. She could tell them apart now even through the weird technique that let them have nearly identical presences. Eventually she tried asking the first one who’d replied to her, the one whose presence was all old growth trees and rich moss,
“Why do you wear masks?”
“A vow,” was the simple answer. Jasmine frowned up at the tall being and asked,
“Do you ever take the masks off? I never see you with no mask.” The Guard, Jasmine had been calling him Green in her head for the way his muffled presence felt, signed,
“Only with other Guards.”
“Are they your family?” Green hesitated then nodded. Jasmine nodded back and, her curiosity satisfied, slipped away heading toward Master Zao’s kitchen to see if there were errands for her to run.
* * * * *
Feemor stared behind his mask in the same direction as the little Terran had disappeared into. He hadn’t known what to do when the Terran had first approached him and said hello. He hadn’t realized any of the Terrans would want to learn GSL, learning Basic as adults would be quite a lot of work. It didn’t take long for the gossip network among the Guards to realize one particular Terran was saying hello to all of them. One of the Guards, a tall Cerean male named Nordri-Skyrveh-Chooggu Chraft, had told the group of third shift Guards the Terran never spoke to anyone that he’d seen. That had the third shift dragging the second shift into the discussion. Then Battlemaster Drallig had come in and sent both shifts to bed like groups of younglings caught staying up after lights out.
“Not you Feemor,” Feemor had frozen in the act of stripping off his armor. “My office.” The oohhs that followed him had Feemor thinking unfondly of his initiate days. “Younglings,” Battlemaster Drallig grumbled.
Feemor settled hesitantly in the chair in front of the Battlemaster’s desk. The Battlemaster set two drinks on the desk. Feemor knew without taking a sip his would be his favorite tea, sweet and slightly nutty. It was a tradition when Feemor was called into this office that his lineage uncle would give him a cup of this tea.
“Alright, Feemor,” Master Cin, and it was Master Cin not the Battlemaster. “What happened?” Feemor told his story adding in the emotional context he had left out of his proper report. Cin leaned back in his chair rubbing at his temple. “What would you like to do?”
“Master Cin?” Feemor asked, slightly confused.
“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders Feemor. What would you like to do about the Terran child?” Master Cin looked at him steadily.
“The child seemed…,” Feemor hesitated over the exact words for the impressions he had gotten. “Hurt and lonely,” Feemor remembered the brittle feeling in the Force when he didn’t answer the child’s hello, “I would like to answer if I’m approached again.” Master Cin nodded,
“I’ll give the Guard permission to interact with them.” Master Cin gave a wry smirk, “I’m surprised they kept to protocol at all. Thank you for not being one of the ones making ghost traps.” Feemor’s lip twitched thinking of the lecture the Battlemaster had given the entire Guard after catching several making ghost traps.
“Well,” Master Cin said, taking a sip of his tea, “Maybe this will distract them from their ghost hunting.” Feemor thought about the dedicated groups who were slicing into databases of different universities for information on ghosts and the ones who were hunting through the Archives for any information the Jedi had, and refrained from saying anything.
“Now then,” Master Cin finished his tea and poured himself another cup, topping off Feemor’s cup at the same time. “Have any of the Initiates or Padawans caught your eye as possible Guards.” Feemor was pretty sure he knew exactly how the characters in holodramas felt when their relatives asked when they would be having kids for them to dote on. The Battlemaster treated all of the Guard like part of his lineage, but he definitely had a visible soft spot for Feemor. He could feel his face, without the protection of his mask heating up.
Feemor remembered his answers to Master Cin’s questions the next time the Terran child paused in front of his post and signed “Hello.” Feemor raised his hands and signed back.
Notes:
Feemor is a canon Jedi. He was Qui-gon Jinn’s first padawan. Cin Drallig is his lineage uncle through Yoda. I headcanon Yoda as his Jedi Master as the Wookiepedia says he was Drallig’s lightsaber teacher. The chapter title comes from a Carrie Newcomer song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSKl_gMgTLs
Chapter 15: The Music Will Play On
Summary:
The Room of One Thousand Fountains is great, but Jasmine misses actual forests. Jasmine continues to engage in Cat and decides on a new hobby.
Notes:
This chapter is a little bit late, but I was very medicated this week and wasn't able to work on the main story. I did post the continuation of the one-shot I'd been written. I also posted a couple of pictures in the extras.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine was antsy. She couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t even care when her avoidance strategies failed and the Jedi spotted her in the corridors. She tried wearing herself out helping in the kitchens. All that did was have Healer Che irritated at her when she was corralled into the Halls of Healing.
“Don’t push þū sylf so hard.” the Healer scolded as she ran a scanner over Jasmine frowned at the read out and handed her a chalky tasting drink. Jasmine obediently drank the whole thing. Healer Che handed her a box of the things before she let Jasmine leave the Halls. “Drink at læɑst one of þæs a day. Still þū þearf tō eat more.” She looked fiercely at Jasmine. The Terran teen nodded. She couldn’t understand everything the Healer had said but she got the essentials.
“What was that about? You’ve been pretty careful about
not frying your circuits when you practice using the Force.”
Ariel asked.
“I don’t know,” Jasmine signed and groaned unhappily. “I just feel restless. I snapped at Tumaini, and now she wants to spend the night with her friends. Ariel winced, “And Haydee took off after breakfast and I haven’t seen her all day.” Haydee was waiting for them when Jasmine staggered into their shared room. The younger girl gave her a slightly wary look. “I’m sorry Haydee,” Jasmine said as soon as she saw the younger girl. “I’m mad at me, not at you.” Haydee relaxed and helped Jasmine store the chalky drinks in the not-refrigerator. It wasn’t until after Haydee was asleep curled up in the middle of their sleeping nook that Jasmine realized why she was ready to come out of her own skin. She rolled to look out into the dimly lit space of their little apartment. There were no windows in the space.The Room of One Thousand Fountains and the other greenspaces in the Temple were nice, but the ceiling overhead made it hard to forget she was inside.
Jasmine was used to going for long walks in the woods or along the lane by Grams and Auntie’s house. After she’d gone to live with them, she’d been homeschooled. Once she had her chores and school work done, she only had to leave a note so they would know where she had gone. Somedays Jasmine would leave the house at sunrise and not be back until supper. The land was alive when she walked it and she felt closer to her twin and as close to at peace as she could be. She hadn’t been properly outside since she had been brought to the Temple.
She told Ariel her revelation in the morning. “I need to go outside.” Her twin understood what she meant immediately.
“There’s a couple of small exits near the Halls of Healing.
The clones have been using those to get into the Halls to get
their chips removed.”
Jasmine nodded and after eating breakfast in one of the cafeterias with Haydee and her friends, she ventured out of the Temple.
Coruscant was loud. Noises from people and engines were constant. Jasmine caught her hands reaching for her ears several times. The first day she lingered near the door to the Temple, still in sight of one of the Temple Guards. Within a week she had ventured further and further into the bustling maze of Coruscant. Coruscant had a rhythm all its own. It wasn’t the familiar slow pulse of Grams’ home or the farmhouse. It reminded her of the one time she’d gone on a family trip down to New Orleans. A city's pulse was different from the steady beat of the countryside. Coruscant, with its planet wide city, had a complicated driving beat. Jasmine took to riding the shuttles for hours at a time getting a feel for Coruscant. The upper levels were uncomfortable, even if she enjoyed seeing the sky. Security guards would watch her and after the first time she was thrown out of a shop Jasmine quit going to the upper levels.
The lower levels didn’t have the sky she craved except in brief glimpses in the skylanes. But the people were content to ignore her. She roamed the transit shuttles going all over Coruscant when she wasn’t in the Temple. She wasn’t going anywhere in particular just exploring when she started to see more beings in armor than usual. It was later in the day than she was normally out exploring, so the twilight levels of Coruscant were already dark. Colorful lanterns lit the maze of streets and the booths set up were still open and doing business. The various booths had beings in full or partial armor collecting the sticks Coruscant used as money and handing the patrons, also mostly in armor, their purchases.
Jasmine followed her nose to a booth selling a red soup that smelled like acorn squash soup, the spicy kind that Thyme liked to make. The large soup bowls were handed out by a being wearing an apron over their chestplate. They looked humanoid but were a pale orange with dark eyes without any whites. They were completely bald and had short spiky horns emerging in a crown around their head.They finished serving the latest in customer full armor and turned to look at Jasmine where she hovered by their booth.
“Me’copaani, ad?” That was Mando’a, Jasmine realized. It should have been obvious with all the people in armor. She floundered slightly trying to figure out what she was being asked. Ad was child. Meh, she thought, was a question word. She guessed they were asking what she wanted? She pointed at one of the bowls of soup.The Mandalorian, studied her for a moment. “Do you speak basic ad?” Jasmine nodded. She reached into the pocket she’d sewn into her wrap shirt pulling out one of her scavenged money sticks. The Mandalorian took the stick with a frown, but handed her a different stick back and a bowl. There weren’t any spoons in the soup or on the Mandalorian’s booth. Mentally Jasmine shrugged and took a careful sip from the bowl.
It was very spicy. Her eyes watered at the heat, but even with the spiciness it was really good. She settled on an overturned crate to carefully sip the soup pausing every couple of sips to wipe her streaming eyes and nose. The market was beginning to pack up around her. Jasmine watched and listened as the vendors called to each other in a mix of Basic and Mando’a. A couple of kids, ade, she corrected herself, ran laughing past her seat. It was a community even if it was different from what she was familiar with. A being nearly twice her height with long tendrils instead of hair, helmet held on their hip, walked past, as if to emphasize Jasmine’s thought. Outside of the Jedi Temple this neighborhood had the most variety of species, from what Jasmine could identify of the beings with their helmets off or not standard human sized. It made her feel better about the information Ms. Angeline had brought the Temple to see, regardless of what the official government policy was, Mandalorians weren’t human-centric genocidal nutters.
Jasmine’s attention was pulled back to the booths nearest her as the Mandalorian in the booth next to the one who’d sold her the soup called something over to them. It sounded like a joke. The soup Mandalorian yelled back, sounding annoyed. By the time Jasmine had made her way sip by sip through the soup the Mandalorian was mostly packed up. Jasmine went to make her way back to the transit station. She still needed to go to dinner with Haydee and Tumaini, to do the check-ins the older Terrans insisted on.
The Mandalorian from the other booth stepped in her way before she could leave. They were big and, unlike the Soup Mandalorian, they had on a complete set of armor including a helmet. Jasmine backed up warily. The Mandalorian reached for her to Jasmine’s alarm, saying something she couldn’t hear through the sudden roaring in her ears. She didn’t have a quick escape today. Ariel hadn’t come with her this trip, preferring to explore in the depths of the Temple today. Jasmine was certain she could teleport to Ariel if she had to, but wasn’t sure if she would pass out or not. Fortunately, the soup Mandalorian growled something at the other one and they took a step back. Jasmine warily edged around them before taking off at a run for the transit shuttle.
Even with the helmeted Mandalorian’s interference she had liked the neighborhood. Its rhythm was different from the rest of Coruscant in a way she could quite figure out yet. She would have to go back, to figure out the rhythm and to make sure that Mandalorian wasn’t the norm. It was important, she knew Haydee’s friend Jason was planning to go with Ms. Angeline when she came back. Either that or he’d make his own way to the neighborhood. And Jasmine knew more of Haydee’s friends were attached to adults who were planning on leaving with Ms. Angeline. That meant Haydee would want to see her friends. Jasmine was not letting her go into an area she wasn’t sure was reasonably safe. Like the church should have been? Shut up! Jasmine told the thought, fighting against the memories. She tried desperately to ignore the scents of copper and smoke in her nose. She looked around frantically for a distraction feeling her lungs beginning to fight for air.
The shuttle she was on skimmed through a tunnel built through a building. Jasmine stared as she saw beings on what looked like flying skateboards briefly keep pace with the shuttle. They wore goggles over their eyes and as Jasmine watched one rolled up the side of the tunnel to flip over the shuttle. The scents of smoke and copper faded from her throat as she stared entranced by the acrobatics outside the shuttle. An older Twi’lek sniffed from her seat and commented to the being next to them, who could have passed as the devil on Earth, “Receleas hwūlicgæns! Hūferbōrds should be bæned from Coruscant.” Their companion disagreed with a laugh,
“Don’t you mimorian what it was like to be geong, Halu? Hūferbōrding is not the wyrst thing they could be doing. The Twi’lek just sniffed and even her lekku manage to look disapproving.
Hūferbōrding, Jasmine turned the word over in her mind as they left the group behind. She wondered if there might be a disused one in the junkrooms the Terrans were helping the Jedi organize. It looked like fun.
* * * * *
Otil Cyl stomped into her family’s home in a terrible mood. She barely paused to remove her boots before continuing her stomp to the kitchen. “What’s wrong ad’ika?” her Aa’buir asked head tentacles twitching. Otil knew Aa’buir was sensing the pheromones she was releasing, so she tried to calm down, not wanting to give Aa’buir a headache.
“Meguu!” Otil growled, her fangs flashing as she began aggressively scrubbing her soup warmer in the sonic sink. “That di’kut, his brain cell is so lonely.” She finished scrubbing the warmer and started on the ladle and other utensils.
“Oh no,” Aa’buir muttered. “What did Meguu do this time Ot’ika?” Otil continued aggressively cleaning her supplies as she replied, a growl in her voice.
“The al’di’kut scared away an ad, Aa’buir. They bought a bowl of ge’tal pirpaak from me. They ate it all even with the hetikles making their eyes and nose run. That utreekov yelled at me about adopting a vaar’ika, then he tried to force them to stay.” Otil slumped slightly against the counter, out of dishes to clean. “They were so scared Aa’buir. I could see them shaking, and that-that-utreekov, di’kut shabuir, ori'jagyc besom!” Aa’buir winced,
“What exactly did he do, Ot’ika? I need specifics.” Otil deflated slightly,
“He didn’t hurt them. The shabuir isn’t dar’manda, just a di’kut. He got in their way and stopped them from leaving and tried to grab them. He was taunting me, until I asked him if he needed a hit to the head. Then the ad was able to escape.” Aa’buir had buried her face in her hands. That was the normal response to Meguu as far as Otil was concerned.
“About how old would you say the ad was, Ot’ika? And did they look like they needed assistance?” Otil answered the second question first.
“They were a little skinny, but clean and their clothes didn't have any holes I could see. They seemed like a spacer’s kid or refugee out exploring. I guess they were around verd’goten age, maybe a little younger.” Aa’buir sighed and reached for the comm.
“I’ll comm Meguu’s buire. Again.” Otil shook her head,
“No Aa’buir, I’ll comm them. Maybe having a direct complaint will get them to do something about him.” Aa’buir gave her a proud smile, but said firmly,
“If he keeps bothering you Ot’ika, let me or Jes’buir know and we’ll call his clan head. Tell Meguu’s buire when you comm them.” Otil nodded and she and her buir started to prep the next day’s food while they waited for Jes’buir to get home.
Notes:
Jasmine is fifteen, but she is very short, and normally slender with a baby face. I’ve known people with her build and height to be mistaken for being in their early teens well into their twenties. It doesn’t help that Jasmine is currently underweight hence the nutrient drinks Healer Che gave her. I’m going with the interpretation that Force users are burning more calories and Jasmine hasn’t quite figured that out. Meguu is attempting some Mando’ade style pigtail pulling. Unfortunately for him, Otil isn’t interested in having her boundaries disrespected, so Meguu is out of luck. Otil is the result of Manda’o being attracted to competence. Buir is the gender neutral Mando'a word for parent. Her Aa’buir is part Nautolan and part Twi’lek. Her other buir, Jes’buir is part Zabrak, but is bright green. So Otil has the horns of a Zabrak, but the eyes and skin color of a Nautolan
I'm not using a lot of Mando'a, other than Otil's insults about Meguu, but if its confusing I can post translations in the notes. Just let me know.
Chapter 16: Uplift
Summary:
Hoverboard construction and ghostly chats
The title is a song by Vixy and Tony
Notes:
Remember the bit about Jasmine joyriding on tractors back on Earth? Her sister does and knows where this is going to lead.
The updates are going to be slower for a while. I'm aiming for once a week and I will post extras when I'm running behind.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ariel sighed when Jasmine told her what she wanted to do, but her sister still helped her sift through the storerooms looking for parts. When Jasmine presented their finds to the quartermaster he poked through the stack of odds and ends for a minute but waved her away. Jasmine dragged the bundle through the maintenance tunnels and vents until she reached a section of the Temple below the active levels.
She’d set up a practice room for playing with her teleporting and figuring out other ways to use the Force. Watching the group hoverboarding had given her some ideas. Once she’d tested them she knew she’d been right, but the hoverboard was necessary for her idea. She set to work, using a schematic she’d found to create six opposers, or at least that was the closest translation she’d been able to get with the translation program on her datapad. She’d also shocked herself three times and was nursing several burns, even with the insulated gloves she’d found collecting dust in a cabinet in the closed off section. It took another three hours, nearly setting her hair on fire, and a lot of cursing at the datapad’s search engine before she’d managed to finish soldering the opposers at equal distances from each other on a metal framework.
Jasmine held her breath as she hooked the system to a surprisingly small battery pack. She gave a whoop of victory as the frame rose to hover half a foot from the ground. She left it there while she retrieved the metal plate with holes pre-drilled into it. They didn’t exactly line up with the opposers, but judicious use of a metal cutter and a bit more soldering made it work. She had to pause and fix the frame a couple of times as it fell out of the air. Each time she found a short or a loose connection and fixed it, collecting more burns and shocks as she worked. Then she started fiddling with making a power switch for the battery pack. There were multiple diagrams on how to do that. Jasmine picked one that would allow the power input to be raised or lowered. Once she’d got it right raising the power made the incomplete hoverboard float a little over 3ft in the air, dialing the power back down made it drop down to around 3in off the floor. Finally assembled the top of the hoverboard using a rubber mat, a chairback and something that acted like superglue. The power switch was mounted on the back half of the board once the top dried.
“Finally!”
Ariel said as Jasmine capped the glue. Jasmine looked up from where she had been hunched over the hoverboard, wincing as her neck cracked.
“It’s past time for last meal, Tumaini and Haydee are worried about you.”
“Oops,” Jasmine said and staggered to her feet. Her legs tingled as blood rushed back into them. Ariel had to catch her as her knees gave out.
“Easy, Jazz. Can you teleport to Haydee? She was in our section of the Temple before I came to get you.”
Jasmine nodded, “I can,” with Ariel’s assistance Jasmine took one wobbling step forward. Space folded until Jasmine’s foot came down in the main area of their living quarters.
“Jasmine!” came two cries, and Ariel took more of her sister’s weight as Haydee and Tumaini hit Jasmine in a hug.
“Sorry,” Jasmine rasped out, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Haydee pulled back to glare at her, sniffling,
“Where were you? I couldn’t find you!” Jasmine sighed and eased down to sit on one of the low cushioned seats in the apartment.
“I found a closed off section of the Temple to practice in. I just got so interested in what I was working on I didn’t realize I’d been there all day.”
“Where?” Tumaini asked, she’d migrated to Jasmine’s lap once she was sitting. Jasmine hesitated,
“I’ll show you, but you have to promise me you won’t try and come without me or Ariel.”
“Why?” Tumaini asked twisting to look into Jasmine’s eyes.
“The only way I’ve found is through the vents and maintenance tunnels, and there are several places where it wouldn’t be safe if you can’t catch yourself with the Force.” Jasmine made eye contact with Haydee, then Tumaini, “Do you promise?” Both girls nodded.
“Ok,” Jasmine said, “You can come watch me test my hoverboard tomorrow.” Predictably that caught the younger girls interest and Jasmine was deluged with more excited questions. Ariel made them stop after a minute saying firmly,
“I don’t need to eat, but you three do. The kitchen where we’ve been helping will still have food.”
And the ghost girl shooed her living vode off to get some food.
* * * * *
Ariel had left Jasmine that morning happily working away at her hoverboard project. She’d a project of her own to work on. Jasmine had been receiving glares from one of the Jedi in charge of the initiates almost from the first day he’d seen her. Ariel wanted to know why.
His quarters weren’t far from the initiate dormitories and Ariel slipped inside. Normally she respected people’s privacy and didn’t venture into private spaces, but protecting her twin came first. Ariel snooped around looking for some sign of what the Jedi’s problem was. There wasn’t much to see, a closet with sets of robes, a low bed, a tiny kitchen. But covering the walls there were pictures, groups of friends laughing and waving, lone individuals smiling into the camera, children covered in mud, paint, flour, and glitter. Joy radiated from every face. The emotions in the bedroom were a sharp contrast. The pictures on the walls felt more deliberate and even though the people in the pictures were happy a feeling of sorrow and rage radiated from the pictures. Ariel stood for several minutes trying to puzzle out what made those pictures different.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Ariel had felt the other ghost nearing, so didn’t jump when they spoke. She glanced over at them.
They were not human or near human, instead they had a long face that reminded Ariel of a horse and were covered in short dark fur.
They were only a little taller than Ariel and their face almost looked familiar.
“Is this you?” Ariel pointed to one of the pictures of a laughing group of Jedi with what she was pretty sure was a younger version
of the apartment’s resident in the middle. The figure that looked a lot like the one standing beside her was leaning up against
the middle figure with an arm around their waist.
“Yes, that’s me. The others are members of my crecheclan.” Ariel studied the pictures for another moment then asked,
“Are any of the people in these pictures still alive?”
“Some of them, if they were in a group shot with someone who died.” The other ghost scowled at Ariel,
“But you shouldn’t be here. Leave.”
“If you can tell me why your friend hates my twin, I’ll go.” The other ghost thought for a moment, then admitted,
“I can do that, but we’re leaving first.” Ariel nodded and the two ghosts stepped out of the apartment.
“Well?” Ariel asked once they were in the hall. Ariel couldn’t read the other ghost’s face, but their eyes looked sad.
“Evlath doesn’t hate your sister. She scares him.” Ariel gave the ghost an incredulous look.
“My sister can’t scare anyone. She spends most of her time hiding from people.” The other ghost shook their head.
“Your sister feels like she’s screaming in the Force, especially around the children. And Evlath has lost so many of us to this war,
all he sees in your sister is a threat to those he has left.” Ariel frowned. Jasmine wasn’t screaming. Not here, not now
Ariel would know, when they were close enough the edges of their Force presences meshed like puzzle pieces.
“My sister doesn’t scream.” they’d screamed and screamed all their lives “She likes it here, even when she’s missing people from home.”
The other ghost shook her head, but didn’t argue. Ariel bowed slightly, and apologized, “I’m sorry for invading your friend’s home.”
“I’d tell you to apologize to him, not me, but he wouldn’t see you.” Ariel waited as the other ghost stared at her for a long moment,
“Fine, apology accepted, don’t do it again.” Ariel nodded, and the other ghost turned away, vanishing as they did.
Ariel stood in the corridor alone. She still didn’t have any answers, not really. But at least she knew the Jedi didn’t hate Jasmine.
Her sister was safe. Was fear better than hatred? Right?
She spent more time in Tumaini’s classes, hovering at the back of the room, listening and watching. Tumaini giggled with her two best friends, a purple near-human with a scarf over her head and a human boy with a red stripe tattooed across the bridge of his nose. It soothed her to see their youngest so bright and happy. Like watching over Maxie on earth it gave her peace to see the littlest girl in their makeshift family so happy. Another ghost approached her where she hovered at the back of one of the classrooms
“Su cuy‘gar, ad’ika,” The ghost wore Mandalorian armor, with her helmet off. She was a near-human, with tendrils confined by a
leather head band instead of hair. She was one of two Mandalorian ghosts who kept coming to talk to Ariel.
“Su cuy’gar, Verd Savrie,” Ariel replied. Savrie smiled at her,
“Me’vaar ti gar?” she asked. Ariel switched back to Basic,
“My twin is making a hoverboard, so she’ll be falling out of the sky soon, but I’m alright otherwise.”
Ariel didn’t mention her concerns with the Jedi, Evlath. The other ghost had been truthful with her,
any lingering worries had to be because her sister was about to do something crazy, again.
The Mandalorian ghost laughed, a rich warm sound.
“I remember when my vode started jetpack training. You have to trust your vod to know what they are doing at some point.”
Ariel scowled but she knew Savrie had a point. The armored ghost waved goodbye once she saw Ariel was content to stay
watching over her youngest vode.
She was drifting along in Tumaini’s wake when she saw the Jedi Master, Evlath, try to stop Tumaini from leaving the group to go with Haydee. Ariel promptly tripped him. The younger girls vanished into the vents and Ariel followed after them to make sure they didn’t get hurt. “Ariel,” Haydee asked as they crawled, “where’s Jasmine? I haven’t seen her all day.” Tumaini nodded.
“Where’s Jasmine?” she echoed. Ariel reached for her sister and got a glimpse of humming concentration.
“She’s working on something I think she just lost track of time.” Ariel ushered the younger girls out of the vents to walk
the rest of the way back to their rooms.
When Jasmine still wasn’t back at the regular time for last meal, Haydee and Tumaini started looking anxious again.
“I’ll go get her,” Ariel assured them and went off to collect her tardy sister. Jasmine had definitely over done it when Ariel reached her.
She had burn marks up and down her hands and arms and a slight scent of scorched hair hung around her. Ariel got her back
to their room and after Jasmine had reassured their vod’ike, managed to get all three to go get something to eat from the kitchen.
She’d decided against following them when she felt a ghost heading toward her.
“Kandosii, ad’ika,”
Ariel glared at the big armored ghost. It was the other Mandalorian. They had been lurking around her and her living family almost since the girls had first come to the Temple. The Mando she’d spoken with earlier in the day was alright. Ariel was sick of finding this one lurking in their space every chance they got.
“What do you want?” She hissed out through clenched teeth. The blank helmet just stared at her until Ariel spat the question at him in Mando’a.
He understood Basic just fine, he was just determined to annoy her.
“Gar tat gaan'uko,” Ariel scowled, but they had a point and they both knew it. Still, her twin had her reasons, ones Ariel understood.
“Gar serim, a’dummi gaa’tayl par cuun vod’ike” The Mandalorian stepped closer into Ariel’s space. She refused to back down, glaring at him.
“Kaysh akaani aru'ike nu’cuyi. Ven liniba’val ori’gaa’tyl”
Ariel’s eyes narrowed and she glared even harder at the Mandalorian ghost. They’d had versions of this argument before. For this she refused to back down. She spoke Basic, refusing to use Mando’a.
“We don’t want parents. We won’t stop the younger girls from being adopted, but Jasmine doesn’t want to be adopted.
I don’t want to be adopted, either”
She’d had to make that very clear to both the Mandalorians who kept hanging around. The less annoying Mandalorian had given her space, only coming to find her when she was on her own in the Temple. This one had a hearing problem. And a looming problem. Ariel was dead, she didn’t feel her heart pound or her breath catch when she was scared. Her hands didn’t shake and no tears came to her eyes. It didn’t make it easier to stand her ground when over six feet of a faceless armored warrior loomed, deliberately.
“Cabur’ika, gar su’cuyi evaar’la -” He started and Ariel could hear the condescension in his voice.
“NO!” Ariel yelled, “It’s my decision! Now leave me alone!” She yelled in his face. After a moment the ghost left.
Ariel sighed, then went to find her twin. When she found Jasmine, she was seated in the quietest corner of the cafeteria, the younger girls across from her. Tumaini dozing into her food and Haydee only slightly more awake. Ariel slipped down to sit floating slightly above the table, one leg pressed to her sister’s arm. Jasmine leaned into the contact. Ariel pressed back feeling her sister’s presence, always seeking restlessly quiet again in her presence. It wasn’t the same as when she’d been alive, but it was enough.
Notes:
This chapter ended up being mostly set up for later events. Ariel kinda stole the show in this section, but she has as much going on during her day as Jasmine does and I wanted to show I glimpse of what she does when not hanging out with her twin. There is a point to showing Jasmine building the hoverboard and all its components.
Translations:
Me’vaar ti gar - How are you/what’s new with you? Should be answered literally
Kandosii, ad’ika - Well done, kid
Gar tat gaan'uko - Your twin pushes away the hand trying to help
Gar serim, a’dummi gaa’tayl par cuun vod’ike - Your right, but [she] accepts help for our little sisters
Kaysh akaani aru'ike nu’cuyi - She fights little enemies that don’t exist.
Ven liniba’val ori’gaa’tyl - They will need more help
Cabur’ika, gar su’cuyi evaar’la - You are still young, little guardian
Chapter 17: Turn Up the Music
Summary:
In which Jasmine finally flies her hoverboard and clone troopers are accidental eavesdroppers
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The next day Jasmine gave up on getting Tumaini to go to classes with her initiate friends. The six year old was too excited to see Jasmine’s hoverboard. Jasmine was barely able to eat her breakfast before Tumaini tugged her away. The twins took the younger girls through the passages to Jasmine’s hideaway. Jasmine winced when she saw the mess she’d left on her worktable, and hurried to get the tools out of the reach of a curious six year old. When she’d finished, she hurried back to where she’d left Haydee and Tumaini under Ariel’s watchful eye. Haydee was exploring the various rooms in the shuttered section. The section was a maze with no hallways, rooms leading directly onto other rooms. Besides the workroom; there was a large empty room Jasmine used for Force experimenting; a refresher with a tub big enough for all three living girls to stretch out in; a couple of rooms that looked like they had once had specialized equipment hooked bolted to the walls and floors. Haydee was running around all of the easily accessible rooms. Jasmine had found a couple of hidden doors, but she would wait to show Haydee and Tumaini later.
“Ready?” She asked them. The enthusiastic,
“Yes!” made both her and her twin laugh. Tumaini giggled as she jumped and chanted, “Hoverboard, hoverboard, hoverboard!” with Haydee. Jasmine picked up the hoverboard and led the way into her Force practice room. She carefully placed the board on the ground and stepped on it.
“Wait!”
Jasmine turned slightly and the helmet Ariel had pulled from the storeroom was dropped onto her head. Jasmine scowled, but resettled the helmet so she could properly see. “Happy?” she asked, sounding exasperated.
“Ecstatic”
Was her sister’s flat reply. Tumaini laughed at them.
Jasmine wobbled slightly when the hoverboard lifted off the ground, but caught her balance quickly. “Alright,” she said nervously, “So far, so good,” She took a deep breath and the board began to fall, not toward the ground, but towards the wall. Her head bounced off the floor, she lost her balance, fell, and the board stopped and started obeying the normal laws of gravity. The next time she made it another foot before she bounced off the floor and rebounded to float, drifting in mid air, until gravity remembered it was supposed to work on all objects equally. Then she dropped, at least landing on her feet this time. The next time she fell, the board shot off to slam to a sudden stop in mid air and hang there in exactly the way bricks don’t. Jasmine had ended up on the ceiling.
It was a good thing she’d insisted on the helmet. Ariel thought watching her sister bounce herself off the walls, floor, and ceiling. Her sister didn’t need any more head trauma, even if she did seem to be harder to hurt now.
Haydee and Tumaini watched in concern, interest and then excitement as Jasmine started actually getting the board to do tricks. “How’d she do that?” Haydee asked, eyes wide. Ariel leaned close to both younger girls,
“She’s changing the board’s gravity, so it falls up or sideways instead of down.”
Haydee stared up at Jasmine, watching as she saloomed through the room. “Can I do that?”
“NO!”
Both sisters said together. Haydee and Tumaini jumped. “It was just a question,” Haydee said, sounding small. Ariel dropped a ghostly arm around the younger girl’s shoulders as Jasmine hurried back toward them.
“It’s dangerous,” Ariel said gently. Jasmine knelt in front of Haydee so her hands were in the younger girl’s line of sight.
“It’s something I can do, but I don’t know how to explain it. I just do it.” Jasmine signed, worried eyes scanning Haydee’s face. “I can’t do what you can with plants, right?” Haydee nodded slightly. “And I’m sad I can’t but I’m happy you have something you’re good at. So is it alright that I have something I’m good at?” Haydee nodded more firmly this time.
“Will you give us rides on your hoverboard?” Tumaini asked. Haydee looked up, hope in her eyes. Jasmine smiled even as Ariel sighed,
“As soon as I know I won’t crash with you on the board.” By unspoken agreement they ended the hoverboard practice there. Jasmine was stiff and her bruises had bruises, but she was able to walk around the section of the Temple she’d claimed as a workroom and practice area. She showed Tumaini and Haydee a couple of the hidden doors, most of which didn't lead anywhere exciting; a maintenance room, a couple of storage rooms, and a weirdly shaped and sized room, Jasmine hadn’t been able to even make a guess as to its purpose. The last hidden door could only be reached from the back of the storage room and required a shimmy through a narrow passage over piping, not the worst passage she’d discovered. And on the other side was a little room that looked like a dressing room. It had a long counter that ended with an area with three mirrors to see a whole outfit. The entrance to the room was behind one of the mirrors. Haydee and Tumaini followed Jasmine into the room.
“Wow!” Haydee said looking around, “That was like a real secret passage,” Jasmine nodded, most of the time the hidden doors in the temple only led to maintenance rooms. This was a proper secret passage out of a storybook.
“It gets better,” Jasmine signed to the younger girls. They followed her to the other end of the room, up the steep flight of stairs to another doorway. They stepped through the doorway out into a fan shaped room. They were standing on a raised platform at the narrow end of the fan. Jasmine thought the platform had once been a stage. If you looked up at the ceiling there were still curtain hooks and pulley systems set up. The rest of the room had stair stepped levels about two feet tall. They led up to the widest point of the room with flights of stairs between the levels.
“Wow,” Haydee said again, Tumaini nodded in agreement. The two girls ran off to jump up and down the raised levels giggling and whooping as they did. Jasmine eased her way down to sit on the edge of the stage area, feeling all of her bruises twinge. Ariel patted her shoulder, then took off to join in the game of tag to cries of, “No fair!” from Haydee and giggles from Tumaini whenever Ariel caught and tickled her. Jasmine relaxed watching them play, her throat easing from the tension after she’d upset Haydee. Still watching, Jasmine started to hum unconsciously. When the song slipped from her throat, she closed her eyes, singing the words she remembered and humming for the ones she’d forgotten.
“Take a look around,
Who would have thought we’d all be here,
The future is unclear,
We’re just tryin’ to get through,
Can you hear me?
Can you hear me?”
Ariel voice startled her as she joined in on the chorus,
“Let the music groove you,
Let the melody move you,
Jasmine’s eyes flew open and she met her sister’s where the ghost girl stood in the audience space.
When we’re stuck and can’t get free
No matter what, we’ll still be singing
Ariel dropped out leaving Jasmine singing alone for the next verse,
“All we have is now,
Let’s make the most of this,
Come on, break it out,
So everyone can hear it,”
Jasmine choked on the next lines, but Ariel continued without missing beat,
“They don’t have to understand,
But we’ll make’em if we can,
Do you hear me?
Are you with me?
Haydee and Tumaini joined in on the chorus,
Let the music take you,
Anywhere it wants to
Come on, come on, turn up the music.”
Haydee whooped and cheered at the end of the song, making the rest of them laugh. “Will you sing some more?” she asked hopefully, “That was really pretty,”
The acoustics in the theater were amazing, Jasmine had to agree. “What do you want me to sing?” Haydee shrugged,
“Something fun, like that song,” Jasmine thought for a moment, then hummed the opening to ‘Ain’t no Mountain High Enough’. Ariel laughed but nodded and started the song,
“Listen, baby,
Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low,
Ain’t no river wide enough, baby,”
“If you need me call me, no matter where you are,
No matter how far,”
“Don’t worry, baby”
“Just call my name, I’ll be there in a hurry,
You don’t have to worry,”
“Cause,
Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no valley low enough,
Ain’t no river wide enough,
To keep me from getting to you!”
By the time the twins had finished their duet, the younger girls were sitting quietly on the closest raised level as both twins sang from the stage.
“We should do this again,” Ariel said into the quiet after the song was done,
“Please, please, please!” Haydee begged, Tumaini a beat behind. Jasmine smiled,
“Alright.” Haydee and Tumaini cheered.
* * * * *
Several levels up, in the Halls of Healing a group of clone troopers backed carefully away from an exposed maintenance hatch.
It was Bead, a shiny from the 327 who’d first heard the singing through one of the vents. He’d pulled the vent cover off attracting the attention of the most senior officer present, Sgt. Flame of the Corrie Guard. Flame had limped over to Bead as the younger trooper pulled the cover off of a maintenance hatch. The rest of the room where the injured troopers had gathered quickly quieted as the singing Bead had first heard resonated into the room without the cover in the way.
Several young voices were singing in a language none of them recognized. It sounded like the unknown language Flame had heard from the group the Guard had rescued from Zygerrian and Trandoshan slavers. Not, Flame thought, that the women had really needed rescuing. Not from what he’d heard from Face, Jaw and the other Corries who’d been on the mission.
“Anybody got a comm with a recording function?” Bead hissed softly over his shoulder. Flame sighed, but this was the most interested he’d seen the younger clone in anything since he’d arrived. He’d been depressed and afraid when he’d joined them, the temple medics still weren’t sure he’d keep his eyesight yet. So Flame handed the shiny his vambrace with its recording comm. Bead pulled a length of cord from somewhere and tied it around the vambrace then carefully lowered it into the maintenance shaft.
As soon as he’d finished the cheerful singing stopped, quiet groans filled the room. Bead started to pull up the vambrace. Then the singing started again, this time it was different, instead of pretty singing he couldn’t understand, there was a kind of itching in his brain then, the words started to make sense, two nearly identical female voices echoed up from the maintenance shaft singing about always being there for each other, no matter what tried to get in their way. When that song finished Bead waited a minute until he was sure there were no more before pulling the vambrace up out of the shaft.
Bead held up Flame’s vambrace with its comm. Flame took it and hit stop on the recording button. Low voiced chatter started as soon as the troopers were sure the recording was off.
“Can I get a copy of the singing,” Bead asked anxiously, bandaged head turned blindly toward Flame.
“Yes,” Flame assured him, “I’ll get copies for everyone,” He looked around the room at the other five troopers from various companies. “Assuming everyone wants one?” Murmurs of ‘lek and yes went through the room. Flame nodded and clapped Bead gently on the shoulder with his good hand, on Bead’s good arm. He stood careful of the brace on his knee and the sling immobilizing the crushed shoulder on his other side, then reached out and guided Bead to a seat before taking his own. He wondered if the singing would become a regular event. The ambulatory troopers could go for walks through the Temple, but everyone in this room had issues preventing them from going very far. Bead and the other recuperating soldiers looked more animated just from the two songs.
He felt better himself, the music was nice, but now he had a mystery to solve, which of the Terrans were singing somewhere in the Temple close enough to the Halls of Healing to be heard through a maintenance shaft.
Notes:
The learning to hoverboard part was originally going to be longer, but I struggled a lot with that section. Just imagine the scene in Ironman when Tony Stark is learning to fly in the suit. That’s Jasmine in that section. Ariel was definitely right to make her wear the helmet. My interpretation of the Temple owes a lot to nightfury’s shoulder the sky verse. Honestly the theater room is more for Ariel than Jasmine, the twins look alike and could pass as each other, but they have very different personalities. And say hi to Sgt. Flame and his collection of vode on the serious injury list. Bacta is definitely a miracle substance, but there has to be some injuries that are still difficult to treat. Head trauma and crush injuries seem like they should be on the list. In Argentee’s AU the Jedi took over the medical care of the troopers after being informed of poor treatment of the clones. Let’s just say the Kaminoans in this AU wouldn’t have wasted time or bacta trying to fix up Flame’s crush injuries or Bead’s blindness.
Chapter 18: Gonna Build a Mountain
Summary:
In which Names are decided and dumplings are made.
Chapter Text
Once Jasmine had shown the younger girls the section of the temple she’d claimed, they wanted to spend the times they weren’t with their friends or in class there. Jasmine agreed and spent time smuggling blankets and pillows into the old dressing room and making a nest under the counter. It quickly became a favorite place for all of them to nap or listen to Ariel tell stories.
One evening when they’d gone back to the dressing room instead of the apartment after late meal, Jasmine pulled out a small stack of datapads. “One of the adults gave me these. They’re so we can have identification made.”
“What’s that mean?” Tumaini asked, looking at the datapads from her place in Haydee’s lap.
“It’s birth certificates and drivers licenses back on Earth.” Ariel explained from her position, lounging on her side in mid air. “Perks of being one of the Dead, no paperwork.”
Jasmine flinched slightly, but gave a reluctant smile when her sister glanced at her. “I filled out the basics already, but we still need to figure some things out together.” She tapped her fingers on the back of the datapad in her hand. She had to put it down to sign, “How do you want to be related? Do you want to be our cousins, sisters, nieces, you can even be aunts if you want.” Jasmine hesitated, “I don’t think we’re old enough to be moms.” She studied her hands as they signed, not looking up. “If you don’t want to be related at all, that's fine. We can call ourselves found family either way.” A little body slammed into Jasmine as Tumaini tackled her in a hug. A moment later Haydee hurled herself into the hug as well.
“You mean it?” Haydee asked, muffled by the way her face was burrowed into Jasmine’s shirt. Flat on her back, all Jasmine could do was nod, patting soothingly at the bits of the younger girls she could reach while three-quarters squashed under them. When Ariel was finally able to pull Haydee and Tumaini off of her twin, Jasmine lay there for a moment getting air back into her squashed lungs. Haydee and Tumaini snuggled on either side of her under her arms.
“I want to be sisters,” Tumaini said softly as Jasmine stroked her curls. Haydee nodded against Jasmine’s ribcage and a muffled,
“Me too,” emerged from where she had her face buried in Jasmine’s shirt. A while later when Jasmine had persuaded them to let her sit up, all four girls were huddled around a datapad debating last names. They’d been able to agree they all wanted to share a name. It should have been a simple choice; the twins didn’t want their last name, and Tumaini didn’t remember hers, but Haydee didn’t like her last name, Oriane. So far Murray, Sparkle, Spirit, L’engle, and Nguvu were the best suggestions. Jasmine finally suggested ‘Eowyn’ to her twin’s laugh.
“That has my vote!”
“Why?” Haydee asked. The twins grinned at each other and between them told the younger two about one of their favorite characters. Complete with the fight scene between Eowyn and the King of the Nazgul. Haydee and Tumaini stared wide-eyed as the twins mock duel in the narrow dressing room. Ariel playing the Nazgul and both twins wielding pillows instead of swords. They cheered as Ariel reeled back from the ‘Fatal’ pillow strike to the head. Ariel wailed
“I’m melting! I’m melting!” as she sunk into the floor.
Jasmine fell over gasping with laughter, “Wrong movie!” Ariel’s head popped back out of the floor and she gave a little shrug.
“Oops?” But she was laughing too.
Then Tumaini started a pillow fight and Ariel had to quickly rescue the datapads from the fray. That was the first time the little family fell asleep in their little nest under the theater, but not the last. In the morning after first meal, Jasmine took the completed datapads to the Jedi’s legal department. The being at the desk was completely blue, although otherwise they looked human. They took the datapads with a nod and studied them for a moment. After looking the pads over they tapped a point on the form.
“This has an Ariel Eowyn, but gives a death date.” Jasmine nodded. Despite her joke about not having to worry about paperwork as a member of the Dead, Ariel had looked close to tears when Jasmine had shown her the pad with her new name.
“Not even death,” she reminded her sister. Ariel had flung her arms around her twin in a hug.
The Jedi looked confused, but decided not to question her further. “The date on this pad would put your oldest family member as fifteen by Galactic Standard time.” Jasmine nodded again. The Jedi was definitely looking a little alarmed by now. “You haven’t chosen to geþeode your family with one of the adult Terrans?” Jasmine shook her head. The Jedi clerk sighed, “As your entire family is under age by human sidu you will be in the beorgan of the Jedi order until such time as you are adopted by an adult outside the Temple or the oldest family member reaches the age of twenty-one and can assume beorgan over the younger members.” Jasmine nodded again, and took the copies of their identification the Jedi handed her with a smile. She dropped the datapads off in their room in the Terran’s section of the Temple. Then hurried to practice with her hoverboard for a couple of hours.
She was bruised, but excited from mastering a new trick when she met Tumaini and Haydee for midmeal. Haydee was equally excited. She’d made friends with one of the younger Jedi, an Eorðtilþ Bodig member.
“What’s that mean?” Tumaini asked. Haydee shrugged,
“He works with plants and showed me one of the greenhouses.” Haydee bounced on her seat. “He even promised to show me his favorite plant if I come tomorrow.” The rest of the meal was filled with Haydee telling her sisters all about the different plants she’d seen and how cool they all were. Jasmine just nodded and listened. Haydee ran off as soon as she was done eating, leaving Jasmine to walk Tumaini back to class. By now Jasmine was an expert at ignoring the Jedi in charge of the kids Tumaini was friends with. He glared at her as she dropped Tumaini off and tried to hide the other children from her. It still stung, it always did, but she refused to let him ruin her good mood.
When she checked in the kitchen she found it was still mostly empty after the post lunch clean up. There was one padawan washing dishes in a sink and the blind Jedi was at the counter chopping something as he hummed to himself. Jasmine gathered up her courage and stepped completely into the kitchen. She walked over to the cook. He set down his knife and turned to face her, a smile on his face.
“Hello there little star,” his voice was gruff, but gentle, “I’m glad you decided to come in today. Dinner will be dumplings today, would you like to help make the filling?” He paused, when Jasmine didn’t answer he continued. “There’s a spare apron inside the pantry door if you would like to help.” Jasmine found the apron, put it on and diverted to the sink to wash her hands. The padawan cleaning the dishes looked at her surprised, but didn’t question her as she scrubbed making sure to get under her nails and up to her elbows. When she rejoined the Jedi cook, he’d set a second cutting board, knife, and pile of greenery next to him. “Now watch what I do.” He then proceeded to give Jasmine the most thorough cooking lesson she had ever had. He explained knife safety, food safety, cross contamination, and a lot more as he showed her how to chop first the herbs, then vegetables and finally meats.The kitchen filled up around them and he would occasionally shout directions to the rest of the crew, or step away to work with someone else. He always came back as soon as Jasmine was done with one ingredient to give her another and show her what needed to be done to it. The rest of the staff respected her space, and they were too busy during the rush to pay her any attention.
Jasmine scrubbed dishes as the rest of the kitchen crew boiled, steamed, and fried the various dumplings. She worked with the kitchen crew until there was a slow down and a couple of the younger crew wandered over to talk to her. She did manage to clear her sink, but was done with interacting with people. The cook stopped her before she could escape.to hand her a little bag with some of the fried dumplings in it. “You’re welcome to join the kitchen crew inside the kitchen anytime. You’re a part of the crew already as one of my best errand runners.” Jasmine took the bag from his hand and discovered it was larger and heavier than she’d thought. It was also hot from the dumplings and she juggled it to pull a piece of flimsi with a prewritten message from her pocket. She pressed it into his hand, then quickly left.
Jedi Master Zao felt the flimsi in his hand for a moment, listening. He’d tuned out the raucous from the kitchen with the ease of long practice. So he wasn’t surprised when a voice spoke up from behind him,
“Master Zao?” It was the young padawan who’d been assigned as a kitchen helper by his master.
“Yes Young Hiamab?” Zao said, turning to the tall boy.
“Who was that?” Zao could sense every ear in the kitchen straining to hear his answer. Zao laughed,
“That, young Padawan, was our helpful ghost.” One of the cooks choked, then fell into a coughing fit as the kitchen erupted into an uproar.
Zao rubbed his thumb over the slight indentions in the flimsi one last time before placing it in his pocket. He didn’t need his eyes to know what was written there. Even a being as ungifted in psychometry as he was would know what the flimsi said.
Thank you
Notes:
I was halfway through writing the Eowyn pillow fight scene when I realized. Hey, one of the twins pretending to die might be triggering. I nearly scrapped the whole thing, but Ariel is willing to joke about it, so you get the silly movie reference. Zao is still one of the coolest characters I’ve come across researching to write this story. I had to give him more story time. And it gave Jasmine an opportunity to be brave.
Did anyone catch the Hitchhiker’s Guide reference in the last chapter?
Edit: I changed some of the more unusual words SW characters were speaking to Old English. I wrote it but forgot to account for Jasmine understanding common words now, not more formal diction. I didn't change any of Master Zao's speech because Jasmine's been lurking around the kitchen long enough to pick up all but the weirdest words.
Chapter 19: Why Walk When You Can Fly?
Summary:
In which music is healing, for the singer and the listeners.
Notes:
I’m trying to do shorter, but more frequent chapters. I’ll see how it goes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine settled into a new rhythm adding more time in the kitchen to her usual routine. She ate first meal with Haydee and Tumaini; walked Tumaini to class, enduring the Jedis’ side eye and the crechemaster’s glare; made sure Haydee was settled with her friends; and then practiced with the hoverboard until mid-meal.
After that she would help the kitchen crew get ready for the late-meal rush either by bringing ingredients from the various storerooms and gardens. Or she would join the rest of the kitchen crew and learn more about how to cook the various recipes served from that kitchen. The blind Jedi chef, who’d eventually introduced himself as,
“Master Zao, little star,” left little snacks for her that she shared with Tumaini and Haydee. She ate late-meal with the stragglers, then Jasmine would help Tumaini and Haydee through the vents and maintenance shafts to the theater room. The dressing room gradually acquired pillows and blankets tucked under the long counter. Plants in makeshift pots were arranged on the counter so Haydee could practice her Force abilities.
And every evening Tumaini and Haydee talked Jasmine into singing at least two songs for them. Jasmine sang gospel songs ‘Josua fought the Battle of Jericho’, ‘Wade in the Water’, and ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,”. Songs she had listened to Grams sing in the kitchen and Auntie sing in the garden. As she gained more confidence the songs Jasmine sang more songs she and Ariel had downloaded onto the battered old MP3 player. Haydee loved belting out,
“Jeremiah was a bullfrog!” when the twins taught the younger girls ‘Joy to the World.” Tumaini preferred the fast pace of ‘The Fox’. She danced and twirled up and down the stair steps of the theater room to Jasmine’s toe tapping. Once Jasmine’s voice began to crack with strain, Haydee would then teach them the Mando’a she’d learned or Ariel would take to the stage to act out stories for her attentive audience of three.
It was nice, but as Jasmine gained confidence on the hoverboard and was able to do more tricks, she started to get impatient.
On the last day of Coruscant’s five day week, Jasmine waited until the younger girls were asleep, then stepped, folding space around her so her foot landed, not on the floor beside the bed, but on the surface of the stage. She didn’t bother to turn on the lights, instead using the little headlamp she wore for exploring between the walls. Standing on the stage she tipped her head back and sang into the dark, to the invisible audience, unseen but felt.
“In this world, there’s a whole lot of trouble, baby.
In this world, there’s a whole lot of pain.
In this world there’s a whole lot of trouble but
A whole lot of ground to gain.”
Unknown to Jasmine, the sound traveled further than it ever had before. The Force carried her voice throughout the Temple to those open to hear.
“Why take when you could be giving?
Why watch as the world goes by?
It’s a hard enough life to be living,
Why walk when you can fly?”
The siren call of the music had the risers gradually filling with ghosts. Mandalorians, helmets on or bare headed, and Jedi in robes of every cut and style, Taung, Bothan, Twi’lek, all manner of beings crowded into the tiny theater.
“In this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
In this world, there’s a whole lot shame
In this world, there’s a whole lot of sorrow
But a whole lot of ground to gain,”
The Temple carried the song further. To the salles where Cin Drallig practiced lightsaber forms, fighting the nightmares every good trainer of soldiers faces. To the Temple guards on duty and off. The sleepers eased into peaceful dreams as their awake counterparts were swept into the music.
“When you spend your whole life wishing,
Wanting and wondering why.
It’s a long enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly?”
In the Halls of Healing Vokara Che tilted her head to listen, where she sat reading patient charts. In the long term patient’s ward, a rescued clone trooper relaxed, the phantom ache from missing limbs easing. Anakin Skywalker sighed in relief as the Force sang to him, the Dark left by the dead Sith lifting just a little more.
“And in this world, there’s a whole lot of golden.
In this world, there's a whole lot of plain.
In this world, you’ve a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings.
It was by chance that Flame was in the breakroom the healers had assigned the long term injured. He was playing cards with one of the few Temple-bound vode with two working hands. When the singing started, Flame had to scramble to turn on the recording comm.
“There’s a star on the far horizon,
Rising bright in an azure sky.
For the rest of the time that you’re given,
Why walk when you can fly?”
In the dark theater Jasmine sighed and opened her eyes from her place on the stage. She bowed to the seating section and the audience she knew was there in the dark. When she straightened Ariel was standing a couple of feet away smiling at her. When Ariel held out her hand Jasmine took it, and without needing any discussion, Jasmine folded space to step into the dimly lit apartment. Suddenly tired Jasmine sat, curled up on the bed, and promptly fell asleep.
The next day after the twins had dropped off Tumaini at class and Haydee with her friends, Ariel turned to Jasmine,
“Well, are you ever going to take your board out for a real test, or not?”
Jasmine gave her sister a searching look, “You don’t want me to stay in the Temple and practice some more?” Ariel shrugged,
“I want you to be happy, even if that means throwing yourself off high places and playing chicken with gravity.”
Jasmine nodded, then hugged her sister, mist and moonlight and air. Then she let go, and with a big grin took off running for the closest exit. “I’ll be careful!” she called over her shoulder as she ran.
Ariel floated in the middle of the corridor gazing after her. She’d made the right decision, she knew that. Jasmine had been so excited she didn’t even notice the other people in the corridor.
She hadn’t consciously spoken in front of any adult for six months before Ariel had died.
“She would have stayed inside if you’d asked?” the polite Mandolorian, Savrie, asked.
“Yes,” Ariel replied, eyes still fixed on the bend in the corridor.”But I couldn’t.” Ariel turned and faced the other ghost, conviction a bright flame in ghostly blue eyes. “No one cages her.” she said hands fisted by her sides. “Not anymore.” Ariel hesitated, then murmured more to herself than Savrie, “I refuse to let my fear build a new cage.” She turned away from Savrie and the exit heading toward the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Haydee was still in there and she had been meaning to meet her new Jedi friend.
Notes:
Ariel is being hard on herself here, but she’s seeing signs of healing and doesn’t want Jasmine to go back to hiding from everyone again. Remember if you’ve been through trauma, healing is not linear, be kind to yourself.
Has anyone figured out where I got the idea for Jasmine’s force abilities? Outside of the music, which is kinda universal for Terrans in this AU. I’ll give you a hint, she isn’t actually teleporting.
Chapter 20: Streets of Gold
Summary:
In which the laws of traffic, physics, and sense are broken
Notes:
There is a reason Ariel didn’t want to tag along with Jasmine. Only one of the twins is a reckless speed demon and it isn’t Ariel.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine had to double back twice before she managed to leave the Temple. Once to the hidden room for the hoverboard itself and her helmet, and once to the apartment for her jacket, music player, and identification. For once she went out the main doors of the Temple. She recognized the Temple Guards stationed at the door; she’d nicknamed them Smoky and Sea Salt. She waved to them as she tucked her earbuds into her ears, making sure the music player was secure in the pocket she’d made for it in her shirt. She settled the helmet on her head, leaving the visor up for now and zipped up the thick leather jacket. Prepared now, she hit the power button on the hoverboard, dropped it so it hung in the air, three inches off the ground, hopped on and kicked off. Jasmine whooped as she careened down the Temple steps picking up speed as she went. She had to slap the attached visor on the helmet down to protect her eyes by the time she reached the bottom of the steps.
Coruscant was always busy even this early in the morning. Jasmine dodged lines of commuters waiting for the tram, beings bustling down the urban canyons, and low swooping flying vehicles. She stayed low at first, getting used to the difference being in a larger space made. Then, spotting a perfect makeshift ramp, she steered towards it. The burly horned beings guiding the cart she’d chosen yelled as she popped the front of the board and zoomed up the ramp. Jasmine laughed as she soared through the air, landing on the side of a building and gliding along it like she was still on level ground. She jumped from level to level practicing tricks as she made the board dance on increasingly more improbable surfaces. The music on her player switched to an upbeat jazzy song.
You're gonna see how the best survive
Jasmine laughed and leaped her board over a cart, spinning to angle her way into a speeder lane.
We make an art out of staying alive
She ducked under a low flyer, before anchoring the board’s gravity to the speeder, using the pull to slingshot out of the way of a tram thundering past. She danced over the empty void between levels, feeling a thrill.
If you do just as you're told
“Hey,” a driver yelled, “Món-seóc get out the lane!” Jasmine shrugged to herself and sent her board plummeting sideways, then did a roll to end up with her board upside down as she continued using the bottom of the level above them. In the Temple Ariel was desperately trying to ignore the glee she was feeling from her twin. She knew what that meant.
These are streets of gold
A group of off duty troopers from the 212th instinctively ducked as an out of control hoverboard hurtled overhead. At least they’d assumed it was out of control until Waxer caught a glimpse of the wide grin on the speed demon’s face. The board banked just before the rider would have pancaked on the side of a building, then hurled off again barely losing any speed as they went.
“General?” Tap asked as they looked after the flying hazard. Waxer shook his head,
“No, I think that’s a Jetii commander. Who’s on leave? Any vode have a jare’la Jetii commander with a thing for speed?”
Ev'ry boulevard is a miracle mile
One of a group of hoverboarders pointed as Jasmine zoomed past where their group was lounging on the doorstep of a restaurant. “This is our patch!” With whoops and hollers the whole group kicked off their boards to chase away the intruder.
You'll take the town and you'll take it with style
Jasmine glimpsed her pursuers in the window of a shop. She was going to hang back to see what they wanted, but when one threw a piece of trash at her, she decided against it. Instead she hopped back into the skylanes riding in the wake of a boxy vehicle. Fainting yelling of what she assumed were curses reached her ears as her pursuers were forced to stop.
If you play it brave and bold
She soared up the spaces between levels, spinning off to slalom through the more interesting levels. She left indignant stall owners, irate guards, and frazzled commuters. Sometimes though, someone would cheer the flips and spins as Jasmine made her board dance. She went ever upwards, chasing the light, chasing the sun.
These are streets of gold
When Jasmine hit the daylight levels she continued upwards. Finally running out of building high, high, high above Coruscant. She floated there for a moment basking in the touch of the sun, eyes closed. Then she opened her eyes, tipped her board to point down and rode down the skyscraper, plunging out of the sunlight back into the shadows.
Jasmine felt her stomach rumble as she zipped through the lower daylight sections of Coruscant. She’d finally figured out using Force abilities used more energy than anything other activity. Jasmine slowed slightly to study the area she was in. She wasn’t too far from the Mandalorian sector, Kih’dabe. Haydee had been so excited to tell them about the sector in Coruscant where Mando’ade lived. Jasmine had promised to take her soon. She steered her hoverboard to where she’d gotten a bowl of soup last time. The same partially armored stall owner was there again today. Jasmine hopped off her hoverboard, pulled her helmet off and tucked away the music player. The stall owner looked up from serving a being with bright blue skin and a waving forest of tentacles.
“Hello adiik,” the stall owner smiled at her. “I was wondering if I’d see you again. I’m glad that di’kut didn’t frighten you away.” Jasmine shook her head.
“I’m not scared,” she signed.The stall owner studied her,
“My Basic sign language is pretty bad adiik,” they admitted, “But you don’t have to worry about anyone here. The di’kut besom is over on another street today, and no one else is dini’la enough to scare an ad.”
Jasmine just nodded, letting the misunderstanding stand. She couldn’t really fingerspell in Basic yet. She was still trying to wrap her head around the letters they used. It was easier for her to learn the signs for things.
“What would you like today adiik?” Jasmine looked at the food. There wasn’t a soup today, but there was some sort of casserole dish. She pointed to it. “That’s tiingilar, it’s spicier than the ge’tal pirpaak you had last time,” she was warned. Jasmine just held out a credit chip. The Mando’ad handed her the portion of food but also passed over a bottle of blue milk. “I give any ad blue milk with their tiingilar.” Jasmine bobbed her head in thanks and found a spot out of the way of the foot traffic to sit on her hoverboard and eat the tiingilar. It was spicier than the soup and her nose and eyes were streaming with the first bite. She kept eating though, it was delicious, with layers of vegetables, meat and cheese. The blue milk was finished off completely by the time she finished the portion. Jasmine placed the bottle back on the table of the stall. The stall owner gave her a smile but they were busy with another customer. Jasmine hopped back on her hoverboard and meandered slowly through the streets of Kih’dabe.
She avoided the occasional clumps of blue and grey painted armor. Ariel had warned her about Kyr’tsad when she first started leaving the Temple. Without her music player in her ears she could hear the rhythms of the streets well enough to avoid them where they lurked in out of the way corners by the edges of the district. The music roared with ominous horns at one point and Jasmine turned to see one of the lurking Kyr’tsad make a grab for a stray ad. Jasmine’s hoverboard made a solid thunk as she shifted the board’s relative down to the terrorist’s helmeted head. That one went down in a heap with a solid dent in their helmet as the ad gave a scream. Several Mando’ade stormed toward the frightened cry. Jasmine hurried to get out of the way of the enraged warriors as they spotted the Kyr’tsad’s armored figure and the rhythm turned from ominous horns to a war chant complete with deep voiced drums and eerie pipes. The ad’s…buir? she was pretty sure that was the correct word, collected the little one, shushing their screams before speaking to Jasmine in rapid fire Mando’a. Jasmine stared at them blankly. Her Mando’a was not up to even attempting to translate the rapid stream of words. So she gave a polite bow and quickly left the area using her hoverboard to leave the entire situation behind.
Jasmine started steering her hoverboard back towards the temple after that. She’d had enough excitement for one day, and Haydee and Tumaini would want to hear all about her trip. Ariel would too, but Jasmine knew her twin didn’t like speed and excitement the way she did.
As she went she tuned herself to Coruscant’s driving beat, letting the thrumming techno scream of the enormous city guide her. It was full of riffs and descants above the gritty growl that made up the unchanging backbone of the city. Curious, she followed after the curling descants into the upper levels of the city. The tune was still leading her vaguely in the direction of the Temple, and a short detour couldn’t hurt, she reasoned. Jasmine anchored her board’s gravity to a passing shuttle and whooped as she fell towards it. The shuttle pulled her out into the skylanes with the traffic of other flying vehicles. Micro shifts of her own gravity let her steer around the vehicles in the way until she was riding in the shuttle's wake. She waved at a wide-eyed child within. It was exhilarating as she was pulled along at faster speeds than she dared use in the congested corridors of the city. She swooped around the shuttle, orbiting it. She looked up sharply when the sound of the city added parts of the Imperial March into its beat. That was not a great sign. The shuttle was approaching an area with two grounded flying saucers surrounded by towers that soared above the grime of the rest of Coruscant.
Jasmine dropped from her orbit around the shuttle, free falling until she reduced her personal gravity, allowing her to drift in the shuttle’s wake. The shuttle continued on to the taller of the two flying saucers. Jasmine spiraled down the sides of one of the towers. The Imperial March was coming from somewhere in the building. If she could just figure out the source, then she could try to let a Jedi know. Somehow. And explain it had been music that told her something was wrong. Well, she could try anyway. She just realized the music had gotten fainter and was turning to go back, when a weight hit her and nearly knocked her off her board.
Notes:
Jasmine is a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Sorry for the cliffhanger this week. The vibes for the next chapter are a complete 180 from the adrenaline filled activities and mostly light hearted vibe of this chapter, so I decided to stop here.
Kyr'stad getting whacked over the head counts as light hearted in my book.
Chapter 21: One More Light
Summary:
In which Jasmine rescues tookas and a Cat. The Cat is confused
Notes:
Warning: animal cruelty both in the present and the past, dehumanization of clones, trauma. If any of those things are triggering, please skip from the beginning of the chapter to the asterisks
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Jasmine yelped as hooks latched onto her, finding the gaps in her jacket. Whatever it was yowled in her ear as the board spun under her. Several more things dropped past her as Jasmine tried to get whatever it was off of her. Then Jasmine realized what she was seeing and dove. Those were tooka kittens falling about to be squished against a lower deck that was fast approaching. She realized she would never make it on time on the board. So she took a risk. The only being she’d knowingly taken through her tesseracts was herself. But it was try or watch the kittens die in front of her. Never again would she hold a broken tiny life and feel it wink out in her hands, not if she could help it.
Space folded under the falling tooka kittens and when Jasmine held her arms out the frantically mewling and clawing kittens dropped into them. Where it clung onto her back the mother tooka stopped yowling. She held the shaking kits close to her chest, shifting their gravity to center on herself, that way they couldn’t fall. The barn cat’s kitten had shook like that when they’d rescued it from Mother’s rooster, it had been their first friend. The mother tooka shifted up to her shoulders and licked over the kittens where they huddled in Jasmine’s hold.
Jasmine stared up at the building. Carefully she rode the board back up, on the way she had to catch another two kittens. Both were obviously injured, blood smearing across her fingers. She remembered blood from their only friend on her hands as her twin dug a tiny grave and had to swallow back the urge to wretch. When she reached the open window the kittens had to have come from she stayed low just underneath the opening and listened.
“Well, flǣsc droid,” a nasally voice said cheerfully, “Only two left. If you move this time, I’ll have my guard put out this one’s eyes, unless you feel like cleaning my boots properly this time.” Jasmine knew that was a lie, people like that always lied. He’d killed their friend even though he got what he wanted. She peeked into the room. It was richly decorated, but Jasmine only had eyes for the figure in the middle of the room. They were a Mon Cala dressed in fancy robes. In front of them was a clone trooper. The Mon Cala was holding a tooka kit by the scruff and was flanked by two guards with a third person standing behind the trooper holding a staff. In a cage by one of the guard’s feet was a cage with the last tooka kitten. Jasmine hesitated, fighting back only ever made things worse. Did it really, she paused at the thought. It did on Earth, but she’d fought back before. And she really didn’t want the kittens or the trooper to be hurt.
The kitten in the cage mewled pitifully as the guard behind the trooper struck him with the staff. Jasmine could hear the pop and crackle of electricity as the blows hit, and realized the staff was electrified, just like the whips the Zgerrians had used on the Terrans. Abruptly Jasmine made up her mind. She couldn’t leave the trooper or the kittens to be hurt by some cruel bullies. The room one level down was empty. She’d noticed it on the way up. Carefully she steered the hoverboard down until she could see into the space, then folded space to slide the hoverboard into the room, bypassing locks and window altogether. She had to take a couple of seconds to detangle the tookas from her jacket, but then stepped back to cling to the wall outside the apartment above’s window.
* * * * *
It had only been a minute or two so the position of the beings inside hadn’t changed much. Jasmine took a deep breath, then moved.
She folded space around her to step close to the Mon Cala and used one of the tricks Rue had taught her to break their grip on the tooka kit. The Mon Cala staggered back clutching at their probably broken wrist. She caught the kitten before it could hit the ground and scooped up the cage with the last kitten. The two guards had shaken off their surprise and Jasmine had to dodge one’s attempted tackle. She booted that one in the ribs, making them wheeze.
“Shoot him!” the Mon Cala yelled, cradling their wrist against their chest. The second guard pulled a blaster from his belt only to have Jasmine kick it out of his hand. Thyme had taught her that move. As she’d fought the music around her had hummed with battle chants and war cries. It was a little overwhelming as she tried to listen and pay attention to her surroundings at the same time. The music reached a crescendo centered behind her. Jasmine twisted in time to see the trooper catch a blow from the electrostaff aimed at her back. He shook but stayed stubbornly between the third guard and Jasmine even as the guard rained a series of blows that snapped and crackled against his armor. When the trooper staggered back and the guard raised the staff for a strike to the head, Jasmine latched onto the trooper’s arm and pulled him to stagger backwards a step. Their feet landed in the room below as Jasmine folded the space around them. The trooper jumped slightly when he realized they were no longer surrounded by enemies. The tooka kittens cried from their place on the hoverboard at the sight of their siblings. The mama tooka gave a demanding yowl and Jasmine hurried to place the other two tookas on the hoverboard, removing the second kitten from the cage to do so.
“Y-you s-s-saved them” the trooper stuttered out. “Th-th-thank you.” He swayed then collapsed to his knees. Jasmine eyed him nervously. She’d wanted to help but didn’t know what to do now. “W-where are w-we?”
“One floor beneath where we were,” Jasmine signed.
“S-sorry I don’t under s-stand you.” Jasmine could hear the stutter in the trooper’s voice fading slightly as he continued to talk. Jasmine gestured up, held up one finger then pointed down, “Up, one, d-down?” the trooper muttered, “Are w-we only down one floor from the senator’s apartment?” he sounded alarmed and Jasmine could see his arms twitch and spasm even under his armor. “M-my comm’s s-still works. I’m g-going t-t-to call for help.” Jasmine nodded. Even though the trooper still had his helmet on Jasmine could hear both sides of the call when it connected.
“Sgt. Jaw,” the voice was faint and there was a lot of static, but Jasmine could still hear him.
“S-s-sarge,” the trooper stuttered, “Ricya rep-p-porting, sir.” There was a pause then,
“Are you hurt, Ricya?” The voice had gained a harder edge.
“N-not too b-bad, S-sarge.” A loud burst of static interrupted the line.
“-ation,”
“S-sorry, S-sarge, please r-repeat that last.”
“-location,” made it through the suddenly heavy static, When Ricya went to reply, Jasmine noticed he froze for a moment. The next words were in Mando’a instead of Basic.
“Raysh’olan Tsad Droten, dan rol’eta sh’ehn,” The static filled silence from the other end of the comm felt heavy.
“Ke’pare,” Sgt. Jaw finally responded, “Ven olaro gaa’tyl.” the comm cut out a moment later.
Ricya rested his head on his knee and let himself shake. He’d been patrolling by the base of 500 Republica and had stepped away from his patrol partner to feed the mama tooka he knew lived nearby. The frightened mewling of the kittens and the battle scream of the mama tooka had brought him running thinking he’d find the kittens being menaced by an anooba or other predator. Instead he’d walked into an ambush and been beaten into unconsciousness by a senator’s guards. When he’d woken up on the floor of the senator’s apartment it was to see the Mon Cala senator torturing one of the tooka kittens as a guard held the mama tooka immobilized by the scruff of her neck. Once they’d noticed he was awake the senator had started torturing him instead of the kittens. Ricya had welcomed it if it meant the tookas would be left alone. But the senator had noticed his concern and then he’d had another game to play with Ricya.
Ricya didn’t know how what was obviously a Jetii’ad had known to rescue the tookas or even how. He wasn’t sure how they’d rescued him, and he’d been there. He looked over at the Jetii’ad only to see them crouched in front of the, he guessed it was a hoverboard, all the tookas were huddled on. Their hands were hovering just above three tookas all with bloody marks somewhere on them. Before his eyes the tookas stopped panting in distress and cuddled into each other. Their eyes closed but he could still see them breathing. He scooted closer fascinated and had to quickly reach to catch the Jetii’ad when they slumped bonelessly. He pulled the helmet off their head to check their pulse. It seemed fast compared to his vode but he’d never done a check on a nat-born before. He gently searched for a blaster wound he might have missed, but couldn’t find one.
The tookas all stared at him from the edge of the hoverboard and mewled at him insistently, all but the three the Jetii’ad did something to before collapsing. He checked the sleeping kittens over and could find traces of their injuries, but they looked a couple of days old instead of new. Maybe it was normal for Jetii’ad to collapse when they healed an injury? Cadets got tired so much faster than adult clones. Ricya knew his ori’vode considered him to be barely more than a cadet at nine standard. He laid the ad out in what Poison had explained was the best position to recover in. Now he just had to wait, his ori’vode would come.
Notes:
If you skipped the first part, Jasmine rescues a mother tooka and her kittens after they are thrown from a window. The last ones are bleeding and have Jasmine remembering her kitten's death. Jasmine finds a clone being tortured, and even though she's scared decides to try and rescue him.
So, Jasmine is not a healer, or at least not a strong one. If Ariel was alive she would be the healer. Jasmine's strongest force manipulations are based on gravity control, even if she doesn't quite recognize everything she's doing. What she's doing in this chapter is close to the upper limit of what she can do to heal a physical injury.
This took way longer to finish than I thought it would. Unfortunately, I will be busy with the holiday season and have no idea when the next chapter will be ready.