#tacee

At first, it had been watching the Republic and the Empire fall under the control of the Zakuulan prince. As Prince Arcann had disarmed her and had frozen her in carbonite after his coup, his plans had already been taking root.

Secondly, there had been a war, a bloody war, after an alliance had been formed under the rule of the Empire’s Wrath- a war hero covered in blood but no regrets. 

Tacee had company every so often as Arcann and his sister Vaylin would come, glancing at her carbonite shell with a gleam in their eyes. She could sense the fear in both of them as they wondered whether their father was truly gone for good, forever encased in the carbonite prison Tacee shared with him.

He wasn’t.

The downfall of the Zakuulan monarchy and the Eternal Empire came with the death of too many, and yet freedom for the galaxy. Arcann and Vaylin had died. As for the alliance, it was a high price. That price fed on Tacee’s guilt. If she’d been there, would she have made a difference? If they had found her, could she have saved them?

Instead, she was a trapped bystander.

She remained locked in Arcann’s trophy room, forgotten after Zakuul’s downfall, gathering dust and memories and pain and becoming more and more aware of a sinister presence that lingered within her. The citizens of Zakuul moved on from the Spire- Zakuul City- after the damage caused in the war by their own fleet, and settled elsewhere on the planet. And she was alone. Except for the ghost inside her head.

While her tomb was outwardly quiet, she could not silence the voice in her mind. It was the only company she had other than the other carbonite slabs surrounding her, breaking down over the years.

The voice became stronger as time passed in its stream, first whispers, then mutters, speaking ... screams. 

She wanted to claw at her skull. She wanted him out. She wanted to be free. But Vitiate … Valkorian … was persistent in her torture.

She watched her friends die, Some horribly, some from old age, but it hurt all the same. Years, decades, centuries, millenia floating in this warped nightmare. And everytime something terrible happened, Valkorian made sure she saw it.

There was so much blood, so much destruction, so much hopelessness.

A near thousand years of infighting between Sith factions. Civil war on too many planets. The Republic committing its own atrocities, nearly exterminating an entire species. The war between a brotherhood and an army and a thought bomb that killed both sides in a devastating blow. Two rules.

But there stood good as well.

When Valkorian’s presence thinned and she reached out to see the galaxy for herself, there was not much she could see, but what she did see gave her some small hope.

Children, families of killed Jedi establishing their own Force traditions, from Ossus to Jedha. A medical revolution that would have had Doc on a month long tangent. The presence of the Jedi growing strong in the Republic once again, reforming from what the Eternal Empire had broken. She could imagine Kira’s smile, and Scourge’s slight disdain.

The flow of time was changing, as if she were being further submerged in its depths, drifting helplessly toward the bottom. It still came in starts and fits, but it was unpredictable. It became harder to reach out, and less and less visions came, even from Valkorian. But she saw.

A young woman sold into slavery. The birth of a chosen one. The creation of a clone army full of troopers that even Rusk would approve of, and the separating of the Republic. A revolt against a pacifist leader, with death watching, and a shadow collecting. A padawan lost.

Then, pain. A louder call through the Force than Tacee had experienced in a millenia during her time in her carbonite tomb.

The deaths of nearly all of her fellow Jedi, calling out in the Force and driving her to near madness with the loss of each as silence fell over the galaxy. The night of a thousand tears. A Republic transitioned into an Empire under the rule of a Sith Lord. The death of a star.

But, with each darkness came a light that it was cast from, though the flame may have been small.

The birth of new hope. The organization of an alliance of rebels. Two droids, one reminiscent of Teeseven, who always seemed to be in the center of it all, pushing on fate in small yet critical ways.

While the screams in the Force became louder, it was harder to find optimism. A familiar planet was obliterated not long after as voices cried out in the Force, terror-filled. Tacee had not witnessed such a loss of life since Ziost, and even in her dreams, she shuddered, and withdrew.

When she came back, not as much time had passed as she’d expected, but a lot had occurred between the broken pieces. A change in the darkness. A fulfilled prophecy. And a New Republic birthed from the ashes.

She wished she could reach out. Valkorian often blocked her efforts. She was trapped, and so was he, but Valkorian was crafty, a patient man, and she sensed he waited for the opportune moment, so he could once again continue in his efforts of engulfing her entire universe. She hated him, a hate and disdain that coiled deep in her chest. But he kept them alive. The carbonite helped, certainly, yet a Force shield surrounded her as well, keeping her in stasis, a passive observer, unable to interact or help. It was a nightmare.

Sometimes it would seem like day after day passed. Then she would spurt forwards, her awareness moved to the next century with such a suddenness it gave her whiplash. There were … a lot of holes. Not just in her observation of the galaxy, but in her own mind. Things were becoming fuzzy. She was losing her grip on who she was, and something dark stirred in her chest, trying to take her place.

But there were times when the darkness would retreat, and she could just simply be. Those times were rare. She treasured them.

A strange monument she didn’t recognize surrounded her. Standing stones swirled in her moment of vertigo. She noted the bare, hilly landscape. It looked nothing like the planet she remembered.

Her attention moved on to the bright beacon in the Force. Force shields surrounded a tiny, strange little creature propped atop the central stone. Its eyes had squeezed shut in concentration, and Tacee could feel it sending her impressions through the Force link that had been made through the galaxy.

Flashes came through her, much like the glimpses of the universe she was accustomed to, but these focused on a smaller expanse of time. A Jedi Temple. Helmeted troopers. Fire and smoke. Darkness. Pain. And a Mandalorian. Light again.

As Tacee absorbed the information, her senses became aware of the second Force signature within the embrace of the standing stones. Then, awareness came of the turmoil surrounding their hilltop sanctuary. Blaster bolts could be heard downhill, and the danger was palpable.

“Grogu. Grogu, stop. You’re in danger. Grogu,” she told the youngling, but the communication only went one way. Grinding her teeth in frustration, her eyes landed on the second being she had noticed. He’d been knocked out, by the looks of it, but she pushed anyway.

“Wake up. Wake up,” she prodded at his mind. Her teeth clenched in frustration. Telepathy remained difficult for her. But she did what she could. 

She drew on the imminent danger to the child, hoping that desperation could catapult her through to the Mandalorian, like a psychic adrenaline rush.

“Beskar,” she cursed inwardly. Her eyes roved over the Mandalorian metal. Inside was the same man she’d seen in those glimpses from Grogu. But beskar  resisted the Force.

She drove forwards anyway.

“WAKE UP!”

A sense of confusion that wasn’t her own fell over Tacee. Her heart leapt, and a different dreamscape surrounded her. The green cast light bathed her feet a sickening color. She didn’t realize she could actually enter someone else’s mind like this.

She suspected the Mandalorian would have a hell of a headache after this venture.

A figure- covered head to toe in unpainted beskar- appeared before her. Blaster raised, helmet tilted to the side, stance defensive. She wouldn’t expect any less from a Mandalorian. 

She felt something pushing at her, trying to suck her away. She resisted.

“You need to wake up, Mandalorian. The youngling is in danger.” Her voice echoed as if they were in a corridor, not the expanded and open space of his mind. Flecks of light danced around both of them.

“Who are you?” came the voice, modulated. Tacee laughed. How was she supposed to know that?

“It doesn’t matter. Listen to me, you can’t get through that Force field.”

“I know. I didn’t, I-” he frowned at her, tilting to the side once more. “How did you ....? The kid is gone.” His tone ached, and so did she.

Tacee frowned and tried to sense her surroundings once more. They … they weren’t in the same place. Time flowed forward in a surreal way within the mindscape. Unpredictable. 

They were on a ship. She could see impressions of crew quarters, a cramped space. That meant she was too late.

“I thought- I saw you, the youngling, on Tython,” she breathed out. 

“That was hours ago,” came the gruff explanation. Tacee hesitated, trying to reach out and sense the youngling - Grogu - again. Nothing. Her chest tightened.

“Who are you? Where are we?” the Mandalorian asked again, stepping closer this time. His blaster still focused on her.

“I’m - We’re in your mind, Mandalorian. The youngling called out, and I answered.”

“You’re a Jedi?” he asked, unfazed by the mindscape. She felt less than truthful when she answered.

“Yes,” she breathed. 

“Can you help me get him back?” His blaster lowered to an angle, and he shifted his weight.

“Yes. No. No, I’m trapped, you have to come get me out of here first. Then … then I can help you.”

“Where are you?” his question came. Muffled. It sounded like he was speaking through water. 

Their position lurched. The ship entered hyperspace, and their connection was snapping away as the conversation moved further from Tython. Sweat beaded on her forehead, even here.

She didn’t know the coordinates, but she pushed her sense of space into his mind, and the Mandalorian grunted at the sensation, the dreamscape around them quaking. She knew exactly where she was, but there was no time for anything more.

“Zakuul,” Tacee whispered before the connection ripped away. That would have to be enough.

_________________________

Din’s hands came to his pounding head when he snapped up from … whatever the hell that was. His hands shook. Standing from his bunk - he hadn’t bothered taking his armor off, he wasn’t that trusting of his two former enemies just yet - he walked towards the cramped cockpit.

“We need to go to Zakuul,” he said, fumbling over the name. Boba grunted and shifted in the pilot’s seat, while Fennec sat to the side, cleaning her blaster rifle.

“Never heard of it,” Boba said. Din helped himself to the seat beside him. He pointed to the navigation charts, leaning forward.

“Here,” he let out a breath. He didn’t think it had all been a dream, but his chest tightened. What if he was just wasting time here, when he could be going after the kid, making a solid plan, not relying on some unknown ally? He could just forget this, find out another way.

But something told him this was right.

“Alright. Why?” Boba asked, peering over at him, helmet off and expression bemused. Din sighed.

“I … had a talk. With a Jedi.”

“You’ve got a Jedi friend?” Fennec chimed in. Din shook his head.

“No, it’s not - The Seeing Stone, it was a beacon. She answered. The Jedi,” he clarified. Boba snorted, looking the galaxy map over. He pointed towards the small yellow dot indicating Zakuul and tapped it twice, zooming in.

“This is out in Wild Space. You sure about this? It’ll be a long trip.”

No, no, he wasn’t sure about this. But right now, his gut was telling him something, and it had gotten him through this far.

“Yeah. She can help.”

Boba nodded and slipped the ship out of hyperspace. He keyed in the coordinates Din had indicated. Fennec continued with her blaster rifle maintenance, unbothered by their change of plans. Soon they were back in hyperspace, heading towards an unfamiliar planet containing an unfamiliar Jedi.

“Well, if she really is a Jedi, she’ll have the Moff pissing his pants when we find him,” Boba chuckled. Mando sighed.