AUTHORS NOTE:

When I started writing Journal of Exile it was 2009 and KOTOR II was still the thing and it had wormed its way into the process as I was writing Healing the Force. For good or bad, life presented some things that needed more attention so both stories fell by the wayside until recently; 2017 to be exact. Since I finished Healing the Force not to long ago, I decided to turn my attention to here.

As I said, I started this story back in 2009 before anyone had named the Exile. I haven't played SWTOR so I have no idea who "Meetra Surik" is so to speak and even though there are not many entries in this "journal", I felt it was important to keep the name of my Exile, Rissa Rohm.

As the title implies, these are entries to Rissa's journal after she was exiled from the Jedi Order. Somewhat in chronological order, and vaguely tied together, these are more short entries, I suppose, that include both story and her personal thoughts.

For a quick backstory for this entry at least, Rissa had the misfortune of running into Revan at Foerost when he attacked the Republic shipyards, and this takes place right after that encounter. If you enjoyed this chapter, I invite you to read the others. I would like to know your thoughts.

AdylinJ

I suppose it's something I have to get past. I always felt the Jedi Masters had lied about the Force. About the difference between the light and dark side.

They warned that the dark side would consume you and I can understand that, well see that after seeing Revan and how awful he looked but the thing the Masters didn't want you to know was that it doesn't care. That the dark side just doesn't give a damn what you do and for that there is a price, but the freedom!

Revan didn't give a shit I made a fool of myself. Hell, he's probably still laughing his ass off at my feeble attempt to stop him.

But if the dark side doesn't care, what does that make me? I gave up caring about everything, including myself, a long ass time ago. So that should make me the uber-dark side Sith bitch, right?

If that was the case why is that rat bastard, and that's being generous, still alive? He should have cowered in my presence, fallen to his knees, licked my boots and bowed, swearing he was unworthy to be in the same galaxy, but no. He crossed his arms and shook his head.

He wasn't quivering when he saw me aim my blaster at the fuel tank. Nosireebob, his mouth opened briefly before his hand came up and . . .

She swore violently as she jerked awake, "Well frackin' ass damn it. You crappy ass dickhead, you used the Force to chuck my ass back on the Marauding Wind before that damn tank blew." Rissa shoved away the data pad, picked up the half-filled glass near her elbow and threw it against the bulkhead before she went straight to the bottle next to it. When that bottle was done, she went on a hunt to find another.

Once Revan and his horde of Sith had left Foerost in ruins, Rissa had let the Marauding Wind drift for two days, only using the thrusters when absolutely necessary to avoid a catastrophic collision. She didn't want the Republic to find her. She wanted to wallow in peace.

Rissa was fortunate in that the items she had stolen from the hanger were actually the ones she needed to repair her ship. Between the hours necessary for her abused body to rest and heal and the time she spent watching the Republics reaction to this latest attack, her mind, unfortunately had time to replay her encounter with Revan over and over again. It wasn't until she had found her journal and began recording her thoughts that she realized what Revan had done.

He had saved her.

Baffled by it since their personal relationship hadn't lasted that long. A few intense, fiery months and then it burned itself out. Rissa didn't remember why, and it didn't matter. One day they couldn't keep their hands off each other, the next they were treating each other with cool detachment. It was probably just as well. A few months later, they had stepped into the middle of the Mandalorian War against the advice of the Jedi Council.

He had saved her.

"Thanks for nothing," she mumbled as she tipped the last of that bottle to her lips and drained it.

You need to move, or you'll die.

Rissa ignored her own voice that now took up this new mantra. Apparently, the part of her mind that just didn't give a shit anymore was failing to instruct her survival instinct to butt out. She didn't care, she really didn't care. It had been days since the debacle at Foerost and she was done, whatever that meant at this point.

If you don't move soon, you will die.

"Shut up," she mumbled into the darkness of the cockpit on the Marauding Wind.

So, you'd die a coward's death?

"Sure, why not? Fighting got me into this mess."

Yet a friend got you out.

"He's not my friend."

You've never run from a fight before, why now?

Rissa didn't answer herself because she didn't have an answer. She opened her eyes and looked out at the vast nothingness her crippled ship was now floating through. Her navigation was down so she had no idea where she was or how close to a hyperspace route she might be, not that it mattered. Her hyperdrive was shot full of holes and would take a miracle to fix if she even had the parts she needed.

Well?

"I'm tired and I'm beaten."

So, it's pity then? The woman that commanded an army, turned the tide of a war, waded through blood and gore, needs a nap? Has a booboo? That's why you won't move, why you won't save yourself?

"I said, shut up!"

Move. Or. You. Will. Die!

"Then let me…" she never finished the mumbled declaration as the panel she was lying next to fell from the wall and slammed into her side. The pain was immense as a sharp corner knifed its way into the gash on her knee, slicing through the dried blood and old scab to reopen the wound with a fresh round of bleeding. Wires that were sparking a moment ago were burning through her torn and tattered shirt to sear already abraded flesh on her shoulder, a knob smacking into her temple sent her already pounding head into the territory of excruciating.

MOVE!

Rissa fought through the pain and shoved the panel aside before she managed to roll away from the wall, but not quite quick enough as three more panels came crashing down catching her on her back as she turned away.

"Ow," she whispered as the overwhelming sense of failure flooded through her system to mingle with the pain. Mustering the strength, she turned her head toward where she'd been lying and realized she would have probably died under the now pile of smoking scrap metal that had been her ships communications station.

Get up!

"I can't, my knee…"

You have another one

She closed her eyes and chuckled through the tears she didn't bother to hold back. "Man, I'm a bitch," she whispered. Through the thoughts of her imminent doom, she managed to scoot her battered body out from under the panel partially covering her back and sat up the best she could. Standing was going to be out of the question, but she did recognize she needed to address her still bleeding knee. Stripping off what was left of her shirt, she fashioned a bandage around the wound. When she saw blood dripping onto her arm, she tore out one of the sleeves and running her hand through her blood-crusted hair, found a fresh gash and tied the makeshift bandage around her head. There was nothing she could do about the burns on her shoulder except stomach the stench of burnt flesh.

Every move as she scooted herself along the deck out of the cockpit brought a new fresh hell to her body. What was normally a 15 second walk from the bridge to the main hold of the ship took her close to 15 minutes. Wounds she thought sufficiently healed reopened oozing blood or puss that had set in with infection. When she reached the main hold and the galley area, she needed to rest before she felt she had even a modicum of strength to pull herself up on the bench at the table. Agony had her crying out as she forced herself to move from the floor. Rissa battled back the nausea that threatened by closing her eyes and resting her head on her arms.

"How did I get here?" she moaned into the silence.

Once the nausea had subsided enough and she could trust she wasn't going to throw up her entrails, she lifted her head and slowly reached for the data pad across from her and turned it on…

I know how I got here, to this moment.

I never figured myself for someone who was bored easily but drifting in space for days was getting old. I'd done everything I could to repair the Marauding Wind, but I was low on fuel and it didn't matter how fixed the ship was, I was going nowhere.

I'd gotten myself relatively healthy after I managed to find my way out of the loading bay before the blast doors shut and part of the hull peeled away. There was nothing I could do about the multitude of collisions the ship went through as I drifted through the wreckage Revan's fleet had cause at Foerost. Playing dead was the best option because sure as day, his fleet had been out looking for survivors either to take as POW's or more likely to be murdered where they floated through the destruction, so I laid low, played dead and fumed about the fact that Revan saved me. Why? God damnit you son of cur, why? I hate your fracking guts for what you did to me, put me through and as one final cruel act, you save my life? UGH!

Working on the ship had been therapeutic and it helped work out the kinks, but I was a sitting duck for any pirate that happened along and despite my best efforts to appear not worth the time…

Rissa sat back and readjusted her position the best she could before looking around the main hold. Crates were overturned, seating torn from its moorings, fabric shredded, burned or full of blaster holes. Blood stained the walls and floor. Bits of burnt flesh, brains and other bodily parts and fluid where scattered around. Despite her condition, she had managed to at least eject the dead bodies before she had returned to the bridge of the ship and collapsed next to the communications panel after surveying the condition of the cockpit…

I had seen them going ship to ship. There were three vessels that seemed to stake out, board, and then regroup after each raid. I had gone silent, turning off all electronics and powering down any auxiliary systems. I was truly dead in space, barely breathing as I watched from a hiding spot behind damaged equipment. Even knowing I would collide with others drifting through the void, I figured I was moving slow enough that it wouldn't cause much damage. I mean how could it, I was already missing the loading bay doors and who knows what else after prior collisions. I'll never know if I did something to tip them off or if it was just by chance that they picked the Marauding Wind as the next target.

I stayed hidden, played dead hoping they would take what they wanted and leave. I had no defenses, no blaster I could easily reach. And I know in the past I've said I was glad I couldn't feel nor use the Force, I had no need for it, I was taking care of myself just fine, but at that moment I fervently prayed to anyone who would listen that my Force abilities would magically return and I could save myself. Or at least give me a fighting chance…

Rissa kept her body still and relaxed, her eyes closed, but that didn't seem to deter the sleezy Rodian who snorted when he found her and dragged her from under the panels she had arranged to look like they had fallen and killed her. She could hear voices calling out either in joy they found something worth looting or cursing because there wasn't anything worth stealing. She had hidden the left-over parts she'd stolen from the hanger and was fairly confident they wouldn't be found.

The Rodian ran his hands over her body, stopping to squeeze her tits to the point of pain, but Rissa suffered and kept her body relaxed knowing if she tried to fight back it could go worse for her. She would be killed, but whether it would be a quick death or a long drawn-out ordeal of multiple gang rapes before she died from abuse or they tired of her and shot her, well neither option was very appealing, but the idea of being raped by a Rodian just to save her life wasn't the greatest plan either. She could picture the room where she was, just behind the bridge and knew there were pieces of metal lying around sharp enough to cause some damage, but she wasn't sure she could distract him enough to get to one. When his fumbling fingers began working on her pants, she was bracing to move. She would swing her arm up as hard as she could and hope she would knock him aside enough to find a weapon. Rissa may have played fast and loose over the prior months with the idea of whether she wanted to live or die because her life had taken a turn for the worse, but in this, she would go down swinging.

"What the frack are you doing?" A new muffled voice barked just as she was going to make her move.

~~ None of your concern. ~~

"The hell it's not! Isn't she dead?"

~~ So what? She won't mind. ~~ The Rodian cackled and reached for her pants again. ~~ You want in, you find your own dead body. ~~

Rissa couldn't help it, she twitched when she heard the blaster and felt the Rodian's blood and brains splat against her face.

"Sick bastard," the mechanical sounding voice muttered.

Rodian's were fairly easy to overpower, but this new voice sounded formidable, bigger and Rissa's fear spiked sending adrenaline through her system. When she felt strong hands grab her shoulders, she let loose and began struggling like a banshee. If she was going to be raped then murdered, by the Force she was going to take a few of them with her.

Catching her captor off guard she managed to move enough to reach for whatever was close enough before she felt a vice like grip grab her arm and squeeze.

"Stop it!"

Rissa didn't know what she grabbed, she just latched on to the first thing her hand touched and swung. The corresponding thud against a helmet was satisfying but it didn't get her released.

"Damnit, I said stop, I'm not going to hurt you!"

She opened her eyes and found herself staring at a fierce looking helmet of a Mandalorian clan she didn't recognize. Memories of the war flooded her mind and panic joined the adrenaline. There was no way this one soldier would recognize her, but she wasn't going to take a chance. Torture would be added to the rape and abuse for what she'd done during the war. Odd though it might have been, her mind flashed to Revan when he shoved her into the ship before the fuel tanks exploded in the hanger. Had he seen this happening, is this why he saved her? Keep his hands clean? Let their former mutual enemy get their revenge for what they had done?

"What the hell is going on in there?" Another voice demanded as Rissa found herself slammed against the breastplate of the armor.

"Nothing!" the voice quickly answered before tightening his hold and harshly whispering, "Babe, are you ready to sleep with me yet?"

"It doesn't sound like nothing," the voice said as they heard boots clang against the metal plates of the deck as they approached.

Rissa found a blaster shoved in her hand as she was laid out, the blaster under her and out of sight. No, she thought, it wasn't possible, it couldn't be. Kinny Madox, here?

"What happened here?"

"I shot Jeleem."

"Is she dead?"

"Yes."

"Sick bastard. I warned him, his vile obsession with dead women would get him killed." The man moved back into the corridor before adding, "You can have his cut."

When Kinny turned around he found the blaster pointed at his head. What had already been a shitty situation had morphed into a fracking mess when he recognized the woman from the space port, he'd hit upon months ago. The fact that asshole Jeleem was going to rape her "corpse" just added a layer of…well, he didn't want to think about that. Shooting him had been a blessing, but when he went to move her body, having it suddenly come alive was beyond creepy and threw him off his center.

"Just take it easy," he said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. Is there a safe place you can – " It happened fast. "What the?" he shouted as the crazy bitch pulled the trigger and sent a bolt just past his head causing the helmet he had stolen from another ship to vibrate in a high pitched whine while the shot heated the metal by his ear to a painful level. He was struggling to get the helmet off, swearing her to perdition and back when he noticed her eyes shift a micron to the right. She wasn't shooting at him, but someone else. At that exact moment, his shoulder exploded in pain throwing him forward into her sending both of them back into a pile of twisted metal. When their momentum stopped, she cried out, raised the blaster, and fired off several shots.

"How many?" She demanded as she wiggled away from him. "How many?" she repeated.

"Nine…well now six."

"How many ships? You're not scavenging alone, how many ships? Just the three?"

"Yes," he told her between clenched teeth. She was stripping off his helmet and part of his armor. He'd never been shot before! "Did you shoot me?" he asked as his vision started to waver from her careless actions.

"If I shot you, you wouldn't be asking that question." She responded as she ripped part of his shirt, wadded it up and stuffed it under the piece of armor over his shoulder. She lifted the blaster again and fired off several shots into the hallway.

"Five."

She put the blaster in his hand then took the rifle he had slung over his back. "Don't go anywhere," she quipped as she stood up. She was covered in blood from her own shoulder wound where the shot went through him and apparently hit her. Her shirt was hanging from her back in ribbons where welts and cuts oozed blood from when they slammed into the pile of scrap metal. Bruises, the size of a Hutt's ass spread down her back before disappearing into the filthy pants at her hips only to peek through the torn material at her knees. She sported a black eye and blood was caked into part of her hair.

"You're a mess," he said trying to move but it was agony. "I'll get the ship clamps while you fire up the hyper drive." He was on his hands and knees trying to use a busted console to stand. When it gave way, he fell on his face.

The woman shook her head and limped to the door giving a quick look out to the corridor. "The hyperdrive is broken. Stay here."

"You're wounded, you won't make it."

"Yeah? Well, if you survive, you can bury me with your other lowlife buddies." With that she limped out the door, rifle blasting…

… It only got worse from there. At least it was that guy Kinny from the space port and I didn't dare trust him but maybe the phrase 'any port in a storm' had some meaning this time. I could take comfort that he wasn't in any better condition than I was, in fact worse, and if he actually survived the next 30 minutes, I thought, it would be a miracle. If I survived the next 30 minutes it would be a miracle, but things I could now believe in aside, I found myself once again drawing on my training as a Jedi to get through the next actions of the plan I was making up as I went along.

Stepping over the two bodies I had obliterated with blaster bolts, I made my way quietly down the corridor to the main hold. Either these guys were deaf or really busy trying to salvage my ship that they didn't realize they were down two more people. I did hear a few names called out and either found the speaker and put a bullet in their brain or I waited until they were close enough and I could come up from behind and slit their throats…

Rissa sat back and looked at the condition of her main hold. "What a mess," she whispered. It would take days if not weeks to put things to rights, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth and complain. She was alive to bitch about the condition of her ship.

Moving slowly and biting back the urge to cry with every movement, she went to one of the crates and found a fresh bottle of Corellian Whiskey. Using her teeth to pull the cork, she drank heavily before she took a deep breath and then poured some of the alcohol over her injured shoulder. Sucking back the burning sensation, she sat back down…

Once I was satisfied, I had dispatched the brigands…what an awesome word! I took quick stock of the ship to see what damage they had caused while they were rummaging through my things. There wasn't much to rummage through, I mean, I had pretty much just taken possession of the Marauding Wind when I went to Foerost for the upgrades, and then the explosion in the hanger, fracking Revan saving my ass, and then a chunk of the cargo bay being ripped away, and the damage from the collisions with the other ships. Was it really just a few days ago this nightmare had started?

My engines were down, part of my broken hyperdrive was missing – bastards - and I had no weapons in working order, but I had to get away. If there were still two ships as part of this debacle, I had to shake them. My only choice was a wild scheme with no chance of working, but I could now believe in luck, not being a Jedi anymore, and fervently prayed it would work.

There was still one pirate unaccounted for and I figured that was the pilot. I thought about sneaking onboard but figured what the hell, I didn't care, still don't actually, so I clomped across the docking tube and double tapped her in the head as she was coming out of the fresher. Time was an enemy at this point, and I wasn't going to waste it.

I'm sure Vandar would have had something to say about how far I had fallen…

Rissa sat back and reread that line over and over and over. Her brain rebelled at the thought and sent a shiver down her back. "Survival, it's simply survival," she whispered and ruthlessly shoved the thought aside. She took a deep breath and calmed her racing heart…

A cursory tour of the pirate ship yielded more than I had hoped for. Besides my own gear, there were crates of goods, credits, medical supplies, weapons, and food. I was losing my energy, the adrenaline that had gotten me this far was beginning to fade and I felt the crash coming on. I soldiered on, moving as much of the cargo and spare parts that I could before I went to the bridge. I could hear the calls over the comm channels from the other two ships as they moved into position to block me. It was going to be now or never.

Finding the controls of the hyperdrive, I pressed a few buttons, heard the engines engage and I ran, the best I could back to the Marauding Wind. I sealed the docking clamp hatch just as both ships jumped to the weave of hyperspace. I continued moving toward the main hold, closing blast doors behind me in case this last-ditch ridiculous scheme didn't work, and the docking tube ripped away sending one or both ships into oblivion…

Rissa waited, her back to the last blast door, for everything she had worked for, had wanted, to blow away in a catastrophic explosion, but it didn't come. Or, she thought, she wasn't sure when it would come and sitting here accepting defeat wasn't going to help.

She could barely move her arm both from the damage and the dried blood and gore that seemed to crack open with every movement, but she needed to push through, finish what she started before her world exploded.

Her first step was to clean up her wounds. She cracked open one of the crates and found bandages, but no kolto to take the edge off. "Shit," she muttered as she checked another crate and still found nothing. None of this was going to matter if she died of an infection. The docking tube seemed to be holding so she decided to take one more risk.

"Please work," she said softly as she released the hatch to the docking clamp. When she didn't find herself floating in space from decompression, she let out a breath and crossed the tube into the other ship. She could hear a soft ping coming from the bridge and realized they were being tracked. There was time, not much before the two other vessels caught up to her, but if she worked fast, she would have a chance.

This time she was a little pickier on the items she looted. She made sure any medical supplies were ones she could use, food she could eat, or goods she could sell. The parts of the ship she stripped were ones that would fit on the Marauding Wind or ones she could jury-rig to work. When she was finished, she dragged the dead bodies of the pirates back to their ship.

"Just a little more…"

The last thing I did was rig a charge on their side of the docking tube. With any luck, when I blew the small explosive, it would separate the two ships. I knew it would be a rough ride, having been thrown from hyperspace on a star destroyer, I knew it was no picnic, and the condition of the Marauding Wind was sketchy at best, but what choice did I have?

I closed the blast doors and moved as far away from the docking tube as I could before I sat behind one last blast door. I don't remember if I prayed or not, but I do remember being thrown about the bridge, my body suffering more abuse before I passed out…

"That's how I got here," she mumbled as she picked up the whiskey, drained to bottle, gathered the data pad, and made her way to her cabin and sat heavily on her bunk.

She was floating through space, low on fuel and life support, and with no Navicomputer, she had no idea where she was or even if she was near a hyperspace lane.

Laying down, she let out a sigh. Rissa didn't know if it was one of relief or acceptance that she was screwed, and this was the end.

"Hey," a male voice said beside her. She turned her head and looked at Kinny, "I told you I would get you to sleep with me," he added in slurred words.

The corners of her mouth tipped up. She had almost forgotten about him, wounded in the comm room, bleeding out. It wasn't easy getting him in here, but she had, bandaged his wounds the best she could before she took the risk and blew the docking clamps.

When he went back to sleep, Rissa added one more entry to the data pad.

Maybe the question isn't how did I get here, maybe the question should be why did I get here?