The Earth Trembles

Anakin lay in his bed, trembling as he was gripped by a nightmare. Outside, the storm battered the building, thunder shaking the very walls. Each flash of lightning painted a different horror behind his eyelids: his mother, chained and lifeless; the Tusken Raiders, faces twisted in pain and terror as he slaughtered them; and then, piles of bodies—Jedi corpses strewn across the temple floor. The vision flashed again, revealing his wife, crying as she gave birth, and yet... he wasn't there, why wasn't he there?. He screamed, finally waking up, chest heaving, covered in sweat. For a moment, he was lost—until he recognized his quarters. He forced himself to take a breath, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the cold metal floor.

The nightmares were getting worse, gnawing at his sleep, and he knew why. This planet, Jabiim—it was a death pit, drenched in the blood of its people. The darkness clung to it, a stain that seeped into his mind, unshakable for a Force-sensitive like him. He wanted to fight, wanted to do his duty, but he also yearned to leave, to be anywhere but here. Anakin stood up, his breaths still heavy, and went to the sink. He splashed water on his face, the chill sharp against his skin, and wiped away the sweat that clung to his bare torso. He put on his clothes, one piece at a time, quickly buckling his belt and fastening his robes. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt, the metal hilt reassuring against his hip. Then, without another word, he left his quarters, heading toward the command center. The halls were mostly empty; only a few clone troopers were posted, saluting him as he passed. Anakin gave them a nod, but his mind was elsewhere.

The building's gaps let the night seep in—dim and heavy, clouded by the storm that raged on. Most of the base was asleep; this was one of those rare quiet moments. When he reached the command center, he found Kass, alone, poking at some food, staring into nothing. She didn't notice him until he sat across from her, and then she only managed a nod when he asked if she was okay.

"Is Mak doing better?" Anakin asked.

Kass looked caught off guard, her fingers nervously tapping the table. She wiped her eyes before responding, her voice low. "He's doing better. I meant to thank you for helping him off the field... we've lost too many lately." She bowed her head, the formality almost painful to watch.

"I'm glad he's okay," Anakin replied. But he could sense something in her tone, something deeper. He squinted, piecing it together. "Kass... are you and Mak...?"

Her eyes widened, her whole body going stiff. It was obvious, the rush of emotions that surged from her before she could stop them, clear as day to him. Anakin leaned in. "It's okay," he said. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you..." Kass whispered, a wave of relief washing over her face. She was vulnerable, and he couldn't judge her for that. He knew what it meant to be trapped by love, to have it burrow so deep inside that it was all you could think about.

"When we're together... it feels like the world isn't ending," Kass murmured. "The nightmares... they aren't so bad."

Anakin nodded slowly. "I understand. But the others won't. Keep it more secretive."

"We won't need to," Kass said, shaking her head. "Mak and I... we decided to leave the Order if we survive this. We won't need to hide anymore. And we won't have to fight."

A frown pulled at Anakin's mouth, but he smothered it before she could see. The idea of leaving the fight—it felt wrong to him, cowardly even. He had a wife too, but here he was, fighting for the Republic, for something bigger than himself. "The Republic needs you, both of you," he said, his voice insistent. "Think of the millions more who will die if the war drags on. The Jedi... we're the linchpins of this fight. The Republic needs every single one of us."

Kass seemed to shrink under his words, guilt washing over her features. She'd been ready to fight when she first joined the war, even when her master died. But watching Mak almost die, seeing him so broken—it changed her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I can't do it anymore. I can't lose him."

Before Anakin could reply, a low rumbling shook the command center. The earth quaked beneath them, not enough to knock them off their feet but enough to rattle the chairs and send a few items clattering to the floor.

"That's been happening more and more," Kass muttered, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.

Anakin shrugged. "Earthquakes are common enough. Don't think too much on it."

"Not on Jabiim." Kass shook her head. "The Jabiimi are spooked. There's an ultra-dense material in the planet's crust—earthquakes are rare, and when they happen, they're never this frequent or this strong."

Anakin frowned. "I guess that is a little strange."

"Jabiimi scientists have been working day and night to figure out what's causing it," Kass continued, glancing around as if the answer would appear in the room with them.

"I'll take rogue earthquakes over ten thousand battle droids any day," Anakin said, leaning back in his chair and letting out a breath. "Where's everyone else?"

"The others are asleep, and Master Leska is with the prisoner."

Anakin's frown deepened. Master Leska had been spending too much time with the prisoner. At first, he thought it was for intel, but he'd overheard their conversations once—talks about food, laughter. She was getting too close. "What do you think about him?" Anakin asked.

"The prisoner?" Kass blinked.

He nodded.

"He's... strange," she said thoughtfully. "He's not a Jedi. I'm not sure he's a Sith either."

"Why do you say that?"

"The taint I sensed on him when he arrived—it's gone. It's like he's never used the dark side."

"He could be hiding his presence," Anakin said firmly. "Sith trickery isn't unheard of."

"Of course," Kass said, but there was doubt in her eyes. "But even when separated, the others still visit him. Aubrie... Zule... Scout... all of them. And they all swear he's not a danger."

Anakin's face hardened. "He killed two Jedi on Coruscant."

"I know," Kass said, sighing. "But I still have doubts. And I don't like the sway he has over the others."

Anakin nodded. "Aubrie would have fought us if he hadn't surrendered. She follows him like... fanatically."

"Maybe one of us should talk to her," Anakin suggested.

"By one of us, you mean me," Kass replied, raising an eyebrow.

Anakin grinned. "Thanks for volunteering."

Kass sighed, pushing herself up from the chair. "I need to visit the infirmary anyway." She gave a curt nod before walking away, leaving Anakin alone in the command center.

Anakin opened a ration pack, chewing the dry, flavorless hard tack within. It wasn't good, but it was better than nothing. Just as he leaned back in his chair, the holotable beeped—an incoming communication. He sat up, rushing to the console and activating it. The flickering blue image of Chancellor Palpatine appeared before him.

"Ah, Anakin, my boy. I was hoping you'd be the one to answer," Palpatine said, his voice smooth and reassuring.

"Chancellor," Anakin said, bowing his head respectfully.

"Are you alone?" Palpatine asked.

"Yes," Anakin replied.

"Good," Palpatine said, his voice softening. "First, are you doing alright?"

Anakin nodded. "I'm fine, thank you. A lot has happened since we last spoke. The war here... it's nearly over. Alto Stratus is mostly dead, and the Separatist forces are scattered."

The Chancellor's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you manage that?"

"It wasn't us," Anakin admitted. "It was Jaden. He set a trap, and it led to a decisive victory."

"Where is he now?" the Chancellor asked.

"In the brig," Anakin answered. "He surrendered when we brought up the charges against him."

"Good, good," the Chancellor said approvingly. "It's unwise to give a dangerous enemy free rein, even one who appears to be an ally."

Anakin nodded in agreement.

"The reason I've called," Palpatine continued, "is because I've managed to commission smugglers loyal to the Republic. They'll be coming to Jabiim soon. They have the technology to evade the Separatist fleet, and when the weather clears in two weeks, they'll land to evacuate some of you."

"What about the others?" Anakin asked, his face darkening.

Palpatine's expression became solemn. "I'm afraid I can't do much for them. They'll have to wait until the Separatist fleet is dealt with."

"I'll stay with them," Anakin said quickly. "We should prioritize those who need medical treatment."

Palpatine lowered his gaze. "Under normal circumstances, I'd agree. But these aren't normal times."

The Chancellor's eyes met Anakin's. "I need you on one of those transports."

"I can't leave everyone here," Anakin said, feeling a surge of guilt.

"You must think of the greater good," the Chancellor said gently. "You are the Chosen One. A hero of the Republic. Your life is worth more than all of ours combined. The morale of the entire Republic would shatter if anything happened to you."

Anakin was silent, the conflict tearing at him. But slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "I'll... I'll be on the transport."

"Good, my boy," Palpatine said, smiling warmly. "For the good of the Republic."

The hologram flickered, the connection straining, and then cut off entirely, leaving Anakin alone once more. Anakin stared down at the holotable, another flash of lightning lit up the room. He winced as the thunder cracked, his reflection flickering on the table's surface. What was he supposed to do? Every instinct screamed to stay, to fight alongside his men, to stand with them. He shouldn't leave them here, stuck in this hellhole. He knew that, felt it deep in his bones. But the Chancellor's words lingered, dug into his mind like a blade. Trillions depended on him. They all saw him as the Chosen One, the one who would make everything right in the end. A hero.

Anakin let out a bitter laugh. A hero. He doubted most of those trillions even knew what that meant. The Chosen One—a stupid prophecy, an idea blown out of proportion. Most just saw a warrior, a Republic hero who took down droids and won battles. But was that all he was? Was all of this, all his sacrifice, just some trick? A lie? He looked out the window. The storm still raged on, black clouds churning. He felt small, like a pawn being moved around on a board by forces way beyond his control. He clenched his fists. "I wish you were here, Master," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

If Obi-Wan were here, he'd know what to do. He always knew what to do. Anakin felt lost. Trapped. Torn between duty and what felt right. The war, the suffering, the endless chaos—it all weighed on him. He wanted to help, wanted to be that hero everyone needed. But he didn't want to abandon his men. Not like this.

In the end Anakin could only stand there as the storm raged outside, though feeling small to what he felt inside.

....

Jaden sat cross-legged on the cold ground of his cell, his back pressed against the smooth, chilled wall. A blue force field separated him from the outside, and on the other side, Master Leska sat, close enough to reach through but just out of grasp. She'd barely left his side since he was imprisoned; at first, it was all questions—where he came from, how dangerous he really was. But now, their conversations had drifted, turning into something else. Almost... pleasant.

"I don't believe that," Leska said, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

"It's true," Jaden insisted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I snuck into a crime syndicate hideout using nothing but a cardboard box. I've got proof."

Leska's calm facade cracked as a smile broke through. "You'll need to show me this proof someday."

Jaden chuckled softly. "Deal. But only if you tell me about the most ridiculous fight you've ever been in."

Leska sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose I did say I would," she admitted. Her voice was calm, steady, but a hint of humor danced on the edge of her words. "When I was a Padawan, I wanted to be the best with a lightsaber—thought throwing it was the coolest trick ever. So I practiced... a lot. One day, my master and I were dealing with a bunch of pirates that took over a civilian station. A pirate was about to shoot a hostage, so I threw my lightsaber at him." She paused, biting her lip to hold back a laugh. "But... when I threw it, I must've hit the activation button. The blade turned off mid-air. It just... thunk... smacked him right on the head. Knocked him out cold. It was... not what I planned."

For a few seconds, they sat in stunned silence. And then, they both burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the cell walls. It was genuine, light—a break from the tension that hung in the air. Jaden's laughter faded first, his face settling back into a more serious expression. Leska's smile lingered a moment longer, but it, too, eventually faded.

They sat quietly for a bit, and the silence grew heavy. Jaden leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, a sudden darkness clouding his eyes. "What's gonna happen to me?" he asked.

Leska's face tightened, and she hesitated. She didn't want to say it, not aloud. "Most likely, you'll be sent to a military penal colony... probably on one of the mining worlds," she finally answered, voice low. "But if they prove you killed those two Jedi... there's a chance you'll get the death penalty." Each word seemed to cost her, like a weight she didn't want to carry. And what bothered her more was that Jaden barely flinched. He didn't seem to care.

"I see," Jaden said flatly, leaning his head back against the wall.

Leska felt a spark of frustration at his reaction. "Did you even hear me, Jaden?" she said, her voice hardening. "They might give you the death penalty."

"I heard you," he replied, the same calm smile on his face.

Leska leaned in closer, anger rising. "Do you not care? Why aren't you asking me to let you go?" They'd only known each other for a few days, but she found herself willing to do something, anything, to help him. And she knew many in the camp felt the same.

Jaden went quiet, eyes distant, looking through her rather than at her. "I can't sleep," he finally said, the words raw and blunt. "Every time I close my eyes... it's the same thing. The earth splits open, millions die, droids everywhere, slaughtering everything."

Leska's face softened, her anger melting into concern. "You want it to end," she said softly, leaning closer, voice heavy with worry. She deactivated the force field, stepping through it, and knelt beside him.

"No... I wouldn't say that," Jaden replied.

"Then what?" Leska pressed, searching his eyes for some answer.

Before Jaden could speak, the floor shuddered violently beneath them, stronger than the last quake. They both instinctively braced themselves, but even after the shaking stopped, Jaden's eyes remained hard, staring down at the ground.

"They're getting worse," Jaden said, his face a mask of concern.

"The Jabiimi are all afraid," Leska added, glancing around as if she could find some unseen answer. "They think something's wrong with the planet."

Jaden shrugged. "Let's hope they're wrong."

Leska stood up, brushing dust off her robes. "I should check on everyone. I'll be back later tonight." Jaden gave a simple nod as she left the cell, her footsteps fading down the hall.

Once alone, Jaden took a deep breath and reached out with the Force, locking the cell door. He reached inside his robes, feeling around until he found what he was looking for—the Holocron. He'd handed over his lightsaber and weapons when he surrendered, but this... this was too important. He activated the Holocron, and immediately the glowing blue form of Satele Shan emerged, arms crossed, a smile on her face.

"Well, well, well," Satele said, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"Yeah, yeah. I won't tell them we're related. Don't want to drag your precious name through the mud," Jaden shot back.

"Right. Wouldn't want any criminal scum marring my legacy," Satele retorted, but there was a playful glint in her eyes.

Jaden snorted. "Guess I'll just hand you over then. Enjoy teaching for another thousand years."

Satele smirked but then crouched down beside him, her expression turning serious. "Are you alright, Jaden?"

Jaden nodded. He told her everything, speaking quickly as if the words had been bottled up inside him for too long—about Alto Stratus, about the trap he'd set, about saving the Republic forces, and how he'd surrendered to the Jedi. He felt no need to hide anything from her; she'd always been more than just a voice in the Holocron.

Satele listened carefully, her blue image leaning closer as he spoke. When he finished, she gave him a smile so wide it almost hurt to look at. "If I could hug you right now, I would," she said softly. "You may be an orphan, Jaden... but you've more than earned the right to carry the Shan name."

Jaden sat there, speechless, throat tight with emotion. For a moment, words failed him.

"Don't worry about finding the right words," Satele said, as if reading his mind. "They don't matter between us. Jaden, I admit, I was worried. Worried when you started feeling the pull of the Dark Side... when you struggled with your connection to healing. But you've allayed those fears. You may have grown up selfish... but your heart, Jaden, is selfless."

"Thank you," Jaden said quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Satele's face shifted, her smile fading into something more serious. "Jaden, for weeks now, I've been wrestling with a decision... about your training."

Jaden's brows furrowed. He didn't interrupt, just listened.

"As the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, I knew things... things others didn't. I had knowledge that touched the edges of what some might call dark. There's an ability I could teach you—an ability that skirts the line between the Light and the Dark. It could help you. But I've been reluctant to teach it, fearing it might hasten your fall into the Dark."

Jaden nodded, taking a breath. "And now... you trust me enough to learn it?"

Satele nodded, her form flickering slightly as the Holocron adjusted. "Yes."

"Then show me," Jaden said, his voice steady, eyes meeting hers.

She nodded "The ability I'm going to teach you is known as Force Wind," Satele said, her voice calm but firm. "It allows you to manipulate air currents—powerful enough to be used in many ways."

Jaden's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would that be a dark side ability?"

"Because you're using the Force to dominate nature," Satele explained. "You enforce your will upon it. Nature is always in balance, always working to achieve equilibrium. This ability disrupts that, twisting the natural order to your command. That's why it borders on darkness."

Jaden nodded slowly, trying to wrap his head around it. "Then why do you want to teach it to me?"

"Because you're on a planet with storms—storms so intense they make leaving nearly impossible," Satele said. "If you can master this ability, you could control the air currents enough to create a gap. A way out."

Jaden considered this, glancing out of his cell window at the howling storm. It made sense, in a crude, practical way. "So, you think I can learn it fast enough to make a difference?" he asked.

Satele nodded. "Yes. But you'll need to focus. Any other questions?"

Jaden shook his head. There was nothing else to ask. It was simple: either he learned, or they stayed trapped on Jabiim.

"Good. Then let's begin," Satele said.

...

Captain Orion trudged through the rain-soaked mud, his boots sinking with each step as he moved through the storm. A few miles out from Cobalt Station, he stood with a handful of Jabiimi soldiers and a small team of scientists, all of them huddled around scattered equipment that buzzed and whirred, struggling to make sense of the chaos around them. His eyes scanned the horizon, frustration clear on his face. Earthquakes—on Jabiim—every hour now. And no one could explain why.

"Do you have anything yet?" Orion shouted through the roar of the wind, raising his voice just to be heard over the storm.

"Negative, Captain!" a scientist yelled back, struggling to keep a sensor device steady. "Whatever's causing these quakes... it's not showing up on any of our equipment!"

Orion grit his teeth, glancing at the other men who were standing knee-deep in mud, doing their best to stay focused. "Keep looking!" he ordered. "Something's wrong here, and I want to know what it is!" The team worked tirelessly, digging into the mud, adjusting sensors, and trying to make sense of what was happening. The wind bit at their faces, the rain stung their skin, but they didn't stop. Every rumble of the ground only made them work faster.

Suddenly, through the sheets of rain, a figure appeared—Master Leska. She made her way over to the captain, the storm hardly seeming to faze her. "Captain Orion," she said, raising her voice just enough to cut through the wind. "Perhaps it would be better if you and your men came inside. Let the weather improve."

The Jabiimi soldiers exchanged looks before breaking out in laughter. "Improve? This is as good as it gets!" one of them barked, and the others nodded in agreement. On Jabiim, this storm was just another day.

Leska's expression didn't change; she was unbothered by their joking. "Have you found anything?" she asked, looking Orion straight in the eye.

He shook his head. "Not yet. But we will." He paused, his voice growing tense. "Something's wrong here, Master Jedi. I think the Separatists might be using some kind of new weapon. We just need proof."

Leska's eyes narrowed slightly, doubt flashing across her face. "That's a heavy assumption, Captain, surely if they had such a weapon it would've been used sooner."

Before she could continue, the ground beneath them shook, more violently than before. The scientists stumbled, some dropping their equipment as the earth groaned. A deep crack split open, jagged and sharp, cutting through the mud and widening fast, forming a small crater beneath their feet. "Out, out, out! Now!" Orion shouted, his voice raw as he waved his men back. Down in the growing pit, scientists scrambled to climb out, fighting the mud that dragged them back down. The rain poured heavier, turning the ground to sludge, and the earth split wider, the chasm growing like a hungry mouth.

One man lost his footing and tumbled down, hands clawing at the mud. Leska's hand shot out, and with a wave of the Force, she pulled him back up, dragging him clear of the crack just before it widened further. Another soldier slipped, arms flailing as he tried to find a grip. Orion lunged without hesitation, diving for the edge, fingers locking around the man's wrist. He grunted, pulling the soldier up with a forceful heave, muscles straining as the earth crumbled away beneath them. M They scrambled back, mud caking their bodies, as more cracks snaked across the ground, splitting and shifting beneath them. Another rumble shook the earth, and for a moment, it seemed like the whole crater would collapse, dragging them all down into the depths. But as quickly as it had started, it stopped, leaving only the pit—a dark, gaping scar in the landscape.

Breathing hard, Orion pulled himself to his feet, wiping the mud from his hands and staring down at the chasm that had almost swallowed them. He looked up at Master Leska, his eyes sharp and accusing. "Do you still think everything's normal, Jedi?"

(AN: So the Planet is starting to fall apart and our heroes have no idea. Well they soon will when they all suddenly die... just kidding I wouldn't kill everyone that's just mean. Though I can't leave them all alive. I'm sorry. It's just the way it is, I'm just... I'm just the messenger. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter)

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