The ship spiraled through hyperspace—directionless, wounded, burning from within. The clone co-pilot fought for control, slamming keys and rerouting power to failing systems. Lights flickered. Sparks fell like ash.
Jason stood behind the console, eyes locked on the viewport as the streaks of hyperspace began to twist. Gravity warped.
"Brace!" Bly shouted.
The stars collapsed.
[Atmosphere – Maridun]
The sky of an unknown world greeted them—blue, cloud-streaked, unfamiliar. Their ship plummeted through the upper atmosphere like a wounded bird.
The jungle below was a blur of green and gold, treetops clawing skyward.
"We're coming in too fast!" the pilot yelled.
Jason grabbed a stabilizer lever, jamming it forward. "Retract lateral flaps! Give me burn on the starboard thrusters—now!"
Too late.
The ship struck the treeline with a sound like splitting mountains, metal screaming, hull crumpling. Branches shattered, trees snapped—and they crashed.
[Silence]
Smoke. Embers. The hiss of cooling metal.
Jason's ears rang. He pushed himself off the shattered durasteel wall, coughing.
"Everyone… sound off!"
Ahsoka's voice came first. "I'm here!"
"Clones are alive," Bly confirmed. "Some are injured."
Jason limped toward the rear—where Anakin lay still on the floor, unconscious but breathing.
"His pulse is weak," Aayla said, kneeling beside him. "We need shelter and supplies."
Jason looked around. The ship was scrap. Nothing was functioning.
"We're not staying here."
[Later – Jungle Clearing]
They moved slowly through the dense, vine-draped forest, carrying Anakin on a makeshift litter. The ground was soft, the air heavy with moisture and strange sounds. Every rustle in the leaves made the clones tighten their grips on their blasters.
Jason took point, lightsaber in hand, his violet blade cutting away thick underbrush.
Ahsoka caught up to him. "You're quiet."
"Trying not to think," Jason muttered.
"That's not like you."
Jason didn't answer. The Force around them felt… restless.
He could feel it—like an old breath waiting to be exhaled.
They found shelter beneath a massive root formation, and Aayla stayed behind to tend to Anakin. Jason stood at the perimeter, watching the forest with narrowed eyes.
Then—movement.
"Contact," Bly whispered.
From the shadows of the trees, separatist droids emerged—patrol units, scouts, and then battle droids—drawn to the wreckage.
They hadn't come for a fight.
But the fight had come for them.
[The First Wave]
Jason's lightsaber ignited in a flash of amethyst light. "Get behind cover!"
Blaster bolts rained through the foliage. The clones responded immediately, forming a perimeter and opening fire.
Ahsoka flipped into the fray, her twin sabers flashing. Jason moved with purpose, blade fluid, parrying and striking.
But the droids kept coming.
More than a patrol. It was a forward assault force.
"They must have tracked our descent," Bly shouted.
Jason turned, deflecting another shot—but one clone went down beside him. Then another.
He felt their pain before they hit the ground.
Something in him snapped.
[The Breaking Point]
Jason's mind went quiet.
The jungle noise dulled.
Time slowed.
The Force poured into him—but it wasn't calm.
It wasn't patient.
It surged.
He stepped forward, saber reversed in his grip—and began cutting through the droids like a blade through cloth. Fast. Brutal. Efficient.
His strikes became less Jedi, more warrior. Not Soresu—not anymore. He spun his saber, drove it through a B2's chest, pulled it free, then used the Force to slam two others into the trees so hard they crumpled like scrap.
He roared—not with rage—but with power. The pressure inside him, finally unleashed.
Ahsoka turned in the chaos, eyes wide. "Jason…?"
Jason raised one hand—palm open—and unleashed a kinetic wave through the air that shattered a whole squad of droids.
Metal twisted, bodies flew. Smoke and sparks rained down.
The jungle was still again.
Jason stood at the center, breathing hard, saber low in his hand. The edge of his blade smoked from the ferocity of the strikes.
His chest rose and fell.
That same whisper in the Force—deep, ancient—seemed to ripple again beneath his skin.
Then it passed.
He turned to see Aayla watching him—not with fear—but with concerned silence.
He deactivated his saber.
"I'm fine," he said.
No one answered.
[Later – Temporary Shelter]
Anakin still slept, breathing steady. Ahsoka knelt beside him, brushing hair from his brow, her face unreadable.
Jason stood alone just outside, staring into the treetops, hands still shaking.
Aayla approached quietly.
"What you did… saved us."
Jason didn't look at her. "But it wasn't right. Was it?"
She stood beside him for a moment, then said, "You let the Force flow through you. It answered. The power itself is not dark, Jason. The intent shapes it."
Jason turned toward her, voice low. "And what if the intent is buried so deep I don't even know it?"
Aayla looked away, thoughtful. "Then your training is far from over."
He smiled faintly, bitterly. "That's one thing we agree on."
[Closing – Nightfall]
The forest settled into soft noise. The injured rested. Aayla meditated. Ahsoka stood watch, silent.
And Jason sat alone, meditating for the first time since the battle.
He reached into the Force—quiet this time.
Searching.
But there were no answers.
Only echoes.