Breaking the Shackles
Chapter Two: Reminiscence

Illisa squeezed her eyes tight as she lay on the Kaminoan furniture sitting out in the hall. Troubled moans escaped her breaths as the former Jedi struggled in her dreams, her head swaying back and forth, as if refusing to emerge from her dream. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The dreams she experienced were loathsome in nature, all consisting of a past she was no longer a part of. Hundreds upon hundreds of years had passed since those days, when the Jedi and Sith numbered in the thousands, when war was commonplace, very much unlike the current era of the Republic trying to negotiate with the growing Separatist numbers.

The dreams always consisted of pain and loss, never of the days of her life that she enjoyed. Physically, the young woman looked as though she was barely past her mid-twenties, and her beauty was admired by many. From the dark navy hair that reached as far as her shoulder blades to her alluring jade gaze, she was as exotic as the planet she hailed from. Mentally, she was well above many of her peers. It was because of those days that she became known as General Illisa Aryla. Those days were the beginning of this hellish eternity, when she would be forced to live through her suffering.

This dream in particular was a rather disturbing one for her, not because of her loss, but because of what it represented. Anger. Hatred. Righteousness. They were all relevant terms now, but back then, in the Jedi Temple buried underneath the ice, she believed – she knew her words to be correct. Even to this day.

She could remember the cold feeling that engulfed her body as she walked along the lone walkway. Built underneath the harsh, blizzard conditions of the continent, the massive temple reflected it through its icy walls. This place could easily rival the size of a Jedi Temple. It was a disturbing thought and she wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the old Jedi woman and the fast-talking rogue she’d met were trapped somewhere in this accursed place, and it seemed that meeting with an old friend would be the only way to get them out of here alive. She didn’t like the troublesome feeling that ran through her as she continued up the walkway, stopping at a circular apex. The inside had literally been built underneath the ice and its walls reflected that – yet she still felt cold, but not from the temperature inside.

Her deep green robes protected her from the temperatures. No, the chilling feeling came from the presence of another – of a woman she had hoped to never see again in her life.

“I never would’ve expected to see you again,” said the Jedi woman in a Coruscanti accent as she emerged from the back of her chambers. Her white hair was tied to a bun at the top of her head, her aged features somehow making her look more regal in the white Jedi robes she wore. “I was sure you took the exile’s path, wandering the Outer Rims. Yet you have returned – why?”

Illisa wasn’t fooled by her mannerisms. Being a woman as well, she could sense the hostility in the voice of the Jedi Master before her. Illisa wasn’t as concerned about etiquettes. “I never wanted to see your face again, Atris. I would’ve been better off if I have never saw your face again.”

“You have never changed,” Atris said, disappointed.

Illisa shook her head. “No…it is the Council that has never changed. You were wrong to choose to exile me.”

“We made no mistake,” the Jedi Master responded. “You deserved your fate. As always, you are arrogant, even against the truths the galaxy throws at you. Exile, you were wrong to return.”

The young exile twitched. “Just give me my equipment and I will be on my way. I could care less for your convictions.”

“This is surprising,” Atris murmured, disappointed. “You have always sought battle…this is surprising. Still, you are still the same person that ran off to war against the Council’s wishes.”

Atris produced a lightsaber, a very familiar one at that. She held out the hilt before her, igniting the blade. Energy crackled to life and the infamous sound of a Jedi weapon went as red blades of light extended from both ends of the hilt. Illisa’s eyes widened at the sight shortly before narrowing in anger.

“I have kept your blade, the very one that you stabbed into the pillar that day you were brought before us. It serves as a reminder of what can happen when your passions dictate your actions. I have kept it, so I would never forget your arrogance and your insult to the Order.”

“That is my lightsaber.”

Atris shook her head. “No, a lightsaber is the mark of a Jedi. When you turned your back on the Order, it was no longer yours.”

Illisa growled, “Return it now.”

“You would fight me for it? You are not far removed from the monster who left the Order so long ago. Exile. This represents something greater than what you are, even if it is a tool of the Sith…but know that I am not unsympathetic to your feelings. Leaving the Order must’ve been difficult for you.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made that decision.”

“You gave the Council no other choice,” Atris said, her condescending tone fading just slightly. “You have me no other choice.”

“There was a war to be fought! I had to do something, Atris!” Illisa screamed in a burst of emotion.

“So your choice was to meet the aggression of the Mandalorians with more aggression. That is not the Jedi way. Whether you realize it or not, every choice we make, whether we know it or not, sends echoes through the Force. It can awaken feelings, ignite passions, hate, anger, fear – where none existed before,” Atris looked down at her. “By meeting their aggression, by serving as an opponent against which the Mandalorians could test themselves, you fed their hate, their lust for war. Because of that, it sent a terrible echo through you. And because of it, you and those Jedi who met them on the battlefield lost their way…and you turned on us. You betrayed the Jedi teachings…all that you had been taught, you threw at your feet and crushed them beneath your heel!”

“Atris, something had to be done.”

Again, she refused to listen. “The Jedi teachings require we examine our actions…acting without reflection is not our way.”

“I would rather die than wait,” Illisa replied bitterly.

“Then you would die a second death. Such is the price of action without reflection. It is what we were taught as Jedi.”

“No…that is not what we were supposed to do. You Jedi were lost in your thoughts.”

Atris pointed at her. “It was you who was lost. You lost your way. That is the price of acting without reflection.”

“Did you not care about the millions of lives being destroyed?!” Illisa spat out incredulously.

“Of course I was. But the Jedi teachings require that we examine how we may best help those lives. There was no guarantee that marching to war would have saved the Outer Rim. In fact, quite the opposite.”

Illisa grew tight-lipped. She was tired to arguing with her former Master. “It would’ve given us a victory.”

“There are victories other than physical ones. The real victory lay in th-“

“-the decision of the Council, right?” Illisa interrupted, eyeing Atris. She relished in the spark of anger in the Master, pleased with the fact that she knew that her decision to march to war was the right one.

Atris rose her voice. “Do not twist my words. A physical victory is not the only victory…or the only loss.”

“And if we sat on our asses, the Mandalorians would be trampling all over the Republic right now. There would be no Republic…no Jedi Council…this would all be Mandalorian territory for them to feed their need for battle.”

Atris grumbled. “You do know kno-“

“-Know that would have happened?” Illisa questioned. “I know that you and your precious Order would’ve been destroyed if we hadn’t followed Revan and fought in the war. We saved you from being destroyed…we fought that bloody war while you sat down and watched everything. Just as you always do.”

Atris’ anger peeked. “How dare you?! The Mandalorian Wars should have been your grave and Malachor V is where you should have died! I tire of…fighting with you. You lust for war, and you always will.”

Illisa’s eyes shot open as she sat up, remembering those last words. She hated the foul taste that was left in her mouth each time she dreamed. Even after nearly a month of being here, nothing seemed to wash away the nightly dreams that plagued her. Often, she had found herself spending extra time training the clones on the lower levels of the factory just to escape the memories of her past. So far, it worked, but she knew that it wouldn’t last.

Soon, she would often tell herself, it would all end. It was a blatant lie, but it was enough to keep her going.

She exhaled deeply before rising off the couch. The first face to greet her was a rather familiar one. “You’re up rather late, aren’t you, Boba?” she said softly.

“Well, Dad’s getting ready to go out on another job, so I couldn’t really get that much sleep,” the young boy said to her, early traces of disappointment in his voice. “Besides that, I just wanted to make sure that you’re alright. You’ve been having nightmares all the time.”

Illisa chuckled. “That’s because I fought in a few wars. The memories of those tend to last a long time.”

Boba saw the expression in her face, and wondered briefly if he should’ve asked the veteran about it or just talk about something else. As with most boys his age – and sometimes, even the older men – curiosity got the better of him, and his Mandalorian blood stirred. “You look a bit young to have fought in a war, don’t you?”

Illisa took exception to the comment. He was a boy. A very sweet one at that. She decided she liked him a long time ago, and that wasn’t going to change because of that comment. “It’s not something I can help.”

“Maybe that’s why my dad likes you, too. He often said that there weren’t true warriors in this day and age. I think he sees that in you.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m a warrior,” she reasoned with him. “But I do know a lot of things.”

“Do you know how to take care of a kid?” Jango Fett suddenly said, emerging from his room, dressed in the armor that had saved his life many time during the numerous jobs he took. The jetpack was slung over one shoulder and he held his helmet in the other arm. “I have a job to take care of.”

Illisa frowned. “You’re dropping your son on me?”

“It’s a job. It’s something that I need to take care of.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You could at least tell me what you’re doing.”

Jango blinked at the request, seeming to be shocked. “I respect you, but that doesn’t mean that I am required to tell you everything that I am hired to do,” he said, offended.

“Aw, come on, Dad,” Boba prodded his father.

Illisa couldn’t help but let out a smile. “Even your son wants to know,” she said slyly, when Jango glared at her. “I believe it’s a fair trade-off, Jango. I don’t even want all the details, but if I’m going to keep an eye on your son, which I assume you want me to spend my free time training that time, I deserve to at least know what you’re about to do.”

“You know you’re asking a lot out of me.”

Illisa crossed her arms. “But the benefits will be rewarding, won’t they?” she said, brushing back her dark hair. “I don’t think I need to tell you that your son will be the best I can make him.”

Jango looked down to his son, whose eyes were pleading with excitement. He glanced back up to the girl. “That’s rational for someone who has no intention of getting involved with the galaxy.”

“This is about as involved as I get,” the former Jedi said. “I would be content to just sit back and die quietly. This place seems like the best place where I’ll be completely unknown. The Kaminoans are good people, too. If training your clones for war is all I have to do, then it is enough.”

Jango nodded understandingly. “I’m off to kill a senator. I don’t know why, but they want this person dead. For that, I’ll be headed to Coruscant.”

“Understood,” Illisa said, thanking him.

Jango gave another shake of his head, and then departed for the underground hangar for the Slave I. There was a certain oddity about this mission, but if there was one thing that Jango learned, it was to not ask unnecessary questions about his jobs. It kept him alive a lot longer. Still, he had a bad feeling about this mission. Swallowing those thoughts, he focused on the task at hand – killing the senator as quickly as possible. There was always something odd about accepting these jobs from the Trade Federation.