**Chapter 475**
**Bota**
**Drongar – Republic Mobile Surgical Unit**
Barriss Offee woke with a start, nearly falling off her narrow cot. Her heart hammered against her ribs as fragments of a nightmare — fire, screaming clones, the endless roar of artillery — faded from her mind. She blinked rapidly, then let out a hysterical little laugh that echoed too loudly in the cramped quarters.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the small sink. Scooping up cold water in both hands, she splashed it onto her face. The shock helped clear her head, if only slightly.
Looking at her reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink, Barriss tried to smile. It came out forced, strained, almost painful. And where would she find real joy anyway? Everything was the same.
She had recently become a Jedi Knight. She had longed for this moment for years — the culmination of her training under Master Luminara Unduli. Her Master had spoken a few kind words of encouragement during the simple ceremony, and almost immediately afterward, Barriss had been sent on her first solo command: an entire legion of clones and a small fleet of support ships.
The Mirialan had been brimming with enthusiasm… until her first day on Drongar.
The planet was a nightmare. A fetid, waterlogged swamp world where the Republic and the Confederacy had been locked in brutal combat for five months. What drove both sides to fight so desperately for this cursed rock was *bota* — a unique cross between mold and toadstool that grew vigorously only on Drongar. All attempts to cultivate it elsewhere had failed.
Bota was of immense value. To humans, it acted as a powerful universal antibiotic. To Hutts, it was a stimulant almost as potent as glitterstim. Neimoidians extracted potent painkillers from it. Many other species adapted it for their own needs. And remarkably, bota had almost no negative side effects, making it one of the most remarkable substances in the galaxy.
But it was also incredibly fragile. It died from even minor ecosystem disturbances. It rotted within hours if not processed on-site. And it burned hotter than rocket fuel. These factors made every ton of processed bota worth the equivalent of several Star Destroyers, a full legion of clones, or even a dozen brigades of auxiliary troops.
The price was high. Skirmishes on Drongar were mostly limited to infantry due to the abundance of spores that clogged engines and made aerial combat nearly impossible. On the ground, conditions were hellish: monsoons with devastating electrical storms, temperatures that soared during the day and plummeted at night, and humidity approaching 100%. The oxygen content in the atmosphere was higher than on most habitable worlds, causing dizziness and hyperventilation in non-natives and accelerating corrosion in Separatist droids.
Casualties were horrific. Hundreds killed and wounded every day. On bad days, the numbers exceeded a thousand.
So a week passed. Then a second. Then a third.
Barriss began to notice she was having trouble keeping track of conversations. She lost the thread of her own thoughts. Those who had been on Drongar longer showed far more serious signs of mental strain and breakdown. She had tried to contact the Jedi Council for guidance, but the response was the same every time: *Focus on your mission. The Republic needs every advantage.*
Trying to distract herself, she left the mobile hospital where she had been helping treat the wounded and headed toward the front lines. In her very first skirmish, she was wounded. But being on Drongar had its… perks. A quick shot from a bota injector — and she was back in the fight.
It wasn't that simple, though. She had received a therapeutic — if not shocking — dose meant for a clone, not an eighteen-year-old Mirialan girl. The effects had been unpredictable.
For one blinding moment, she had felt the Force as never before — in all its infinity. For that infinite moment, she *was* the Force. It was indescribable. This must be what the gods feel, if such beings existed.
The effect had been short-lived, but in that moment, her perception had sharpened to impossible levels. She had sensed each of her fighters, literally *felt* the battle line, seen threats that could lead to defeat and opportunities for victory.
Afterward, she had thought about it a lot.
What was most important to a Jedi? To use the Force only for knowledge and defense. Never for attack.
What could help her with that?
*Bota.*
Needless to say, she had soon used the injector again.
And the situation had begun to improve. She reduced casualties among the clones through precise strikes. She weakened droid formations. She even identified several criminal elements involved in bota thefts.
But the stalemate continued.
Approaching the bedside table, Barriss moved with practiced, almost mechanical motions. She pulled open the top drawer, took out the small pencil case, and from it, the injector and a fresh capsule of bota extract.
A few seconds later, the hand holding the injector rose to her neck…
She pressed the device against her skin.
The rush was immediate — a wave of euphoric clarity that made the Force sing around her. Colors became sharper. Sounds clearer. The weight of the war lifted, if only for a little while.
Barriss closed her eyes, letting the sensation wash over her.
*Just a little more,* she told herself. *Just enough to keep them alive today.*
She didn't want to think about what tomorrow might cost.