A.N. — The timeline of this story is admittedly shabla (screwed up), and I know I have many imperfect scenes, but I hope it's good enough.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING CREATED BY GEORGE LUCAS. I ONLY OWN MY PLOT, OCs, AND MADE UP THINGS AND PLACES.
Well, today has been absolutely wonderful.
By dawn, I was up and fleeing a battalion of super battle droids. After I got away from them, I have had the pleasure of spending my day going from fighting with and hiding from droids, and now running away from Ventress. When I decided to destroy a pack of B1s, I hadn't noticed that she was waiting in the shadows.
Of all the times I manage to not see her, My mind grumbles.
Ryloth is a wasteland, with stone canyons, cliffs, and stretches of nothing but sun-baked earth as far as the eye can see. Okay, maybe a few forests now and then.
I'm currently racing through a gorge, my arm-blades sheathed for now. My weapons resemble extended gauntlets that go from my upper arm to wrist, with a joint at my elbow.
I can activate blades that slide out of the gauntlets at any time, the hidden metal pointing from the outsides of my arms, maximum length reaching nearly four inches near the centres of my arms. They are unique, able to deflect a laser bolt and slice a droid open easily.
Now the blades are in the gauntlets, making it easier to run. I hear blasting ahead and can pick out clones yelling. Another voice, sturdy with an accent is also there. I round a corner to find myself in the ruins of the city square. And thankfully, I can see a Jedi amongst the clones. I look back over my shoulder to see Ventress is still chasing me, both lightsabers drawn.
"Hey, Jedi, help!" I shout. The Knight has red hair, sideburns, a moustache, and a beard. He whirls around and sees the assassin.
"Hold on." He calls. I turn and unsheathe my blades, assuming a fighting stance. A red lightsaber swings at my head and I deflect it, jumping back to avoid the other one. Then the Jedi is there, drawing Ventress's attention away from me. I take cover beside a clone with yellow paint on his armour and a visored helmet.
"What are you doing here, kid?" He yells before taking a few shots at the droids.
"Got a spare gun?" I say, ignoring the question.
"You're too young to be using firearms."
"Alright, then." I roll to the next barrier, then the next, until I'm right against a building. I sheathe my left arm-blade and start climbing, angling my remaining weapon to send any laser bolts back to the enemy ranks. Once I reach the roof, I jump to the next building and keep going.
I climb onto the surrounding ridge the buildings seem to melt into and circle behind the droids. All of them are regular B1s, so I shouldn't have much trouble. I climb to the ground carefully and unsheathe my left arm-blade again. I sneak up behind a droid and tap it on the shoulder. It turns around and looks at me.
"Hey, you aren't supposed to be here." I behead it and take the gun it had been holding. I barricade myself and begin shooting the droids from behind. This gets them shouting and scrambling every which away, distracted by their newest problem.
I grab another fallen gun, removing the power pack from mine and throwing it in the middle of the panicking droids. Taking my new weapon, I blast the small box. The explosion causes the desired amount of chaos in the machines' ranks.
I step out and start slashing every standing piece of scrap I meet. One shoots and I dodge, then dive forward and cut its legs off at the ankle. I dig my left blade in, destroying the circuitry. Finally, I slice the last droid clean in half and see that the Jedi has chased off my former pursuer.
What a relief, the small voice representing my survival instincts sighs.
I start running from the clones, when a shot rings out. For a moment, I stand still, then fall forward clutching my side.
"Ah!" Is all that I can get out.
The bolt didn't hit anything serious, since I'm still alive, but does it ever hurt! The voice of survival reasons.
I manage to sheathe my weapons, and stay lying down. A hand on my shoulder makes me flinch.
"It's alright. We're going to help you." I recognize the Jedi's voice. Tears begin slipping down my dust-covered cheeks as I fight for control over my shivering body.
"What happened?" A new voice comes from behind me.
"Anakin, get a medic. She's still alive." I hear frenzied footsteps, then another person touches me.
"We need to get her to a medical bay." A clone says.
No, no, not moving. I just can't move, the softer part of me groans.
A full year in total of causing the Separatists heck and not once getting shot. 'In total' doesn't count the two years when they held me prisoner, though.
"We're going to move you now, so be ready." The Jedi forewarns. I nod and stay still as someone picks me up. A mangled yell escapes my lips. He puts his arms under my knees and shoulders, holding me bridal style. In any other scenario, I would be embarrassed, but right now I'm not even sure which way we are currently walking.
After what seems like forever, we finally stop. I open my clenched eyes to see that we are standing in a LAAT/i gunship. The doors shut and we lift off. I'm grateful that there are no more bumps, and the ride is smooth. My side starts pounding with my heart, until it feels like my entire torso has been shot.
The last thing I remember is the roar of the ship's engines as it lands.
§ § §
I must have blacked out for a while, because I wake up in a bed with my side and left shoulder bandaged. A medical droid is walking around, observing a container. The moment I try sitting, I realize two things: I won't be walking around for a while and my gauntlets are missing.
"Please lie down." The droid orders. Any other time I would refuse. Once my head is resting against the pillow again, it reaches forward, clearly intending to stick me with a needle. Fear shoots through me and I swat his hand away.
"Don't...use needles. Please." It seems to take a moment to think my request through, then turns away.
"Very well. What would you prefer?"
This is definitely not a Separatist medical droid, but can I trust it? I'm not sure wether that was my survival or doubtful part. The two probably formed a moment-long-alliance to form that thought.
"What is there?" My voice feels raw, indicating that I've been unconscious for a lot longer than I thought.
"The options for medication are injections, pills, or sprays." I have a bad past with all three.
Yeah, but you still have to take one, my responsible and reasonable sides point out.
Shut up, my mind growls, knowing that I still have to make the call.
"I'll take a pill, then." He comes back a minute later and offers me a cup of water and two white capsules.
I take half a mouthful of water and slip a pill between my teeth before swallowing, ensuring I don't have to taste anything. I do it with the second pill, wincing at the slight discomfort.
"Thanks." I say grudgingly.
"Rest now. You are safe here."
"Where is 'here'?"
"A Republic cruiser. As I said, you are safe." He may say it, but I'm not sure I'll ever feel safe. I usually get more of a 'the-danger-is-currently-postponed-until-further-notice' sense. I close my eyes.
When was the last time I slept without my gauntlets anyway? Was it, oh, nine and a half months ago when I was still a Separatist prisoner? I think that was it. So my timeline of the last three years adds up to this: three months of sabotaging Separatists, exactly two years of being a captive, and now nine months after my escape and resumption of causing havoc among the Republic's enemy. This is going great. That was too many sides of myself than I care to name.
The door opens and a tall man wearing a dark tunic walks in. He has brown hair, blue eyes, the right with a scar over it, and a lightsaber at his side. Jedi, period.
I try sitting again, but freeze when the droid makes a move toward me. We end up at a stalemate, where I am propped on my elbow, technically not sitting up, and he is halfway back to me. I hear a sound of amusement from the Jedi.
"I see you two are getting along well."
His voice... It sounds like the one that belonged to 'Anakin'. Anakin. Anakin... Oh. 'Anakin' as in 'Anakin Skywalker' of the Jedi Order. Oh, kriff.
"Perfectly if he doesn't try to use needles." I offer, trying to mask my surprise at the famous Jedi's appearance.
"I need a few minutes alone with her." Skywalker requests. The droid leaves. I've never been one for over amounts of respect, but this is a Jedi Knight, and that means good behaviour. Unfortunately, I'm too old to throw aside titles, and too young to speak respectfully and sound like I mean it. He senses this awkwardness and sits down on a stool I had missed during my original inspection of the room.
"I'll cut to the chase. You will live and not suffer lasting affect from the laser bolt you took, but you shouldn't have been in a position to get shot in the first place. And before that, the Jedi who saved you told me you were being chased by an extremely dangerous Separatist assassin. I did some research and had a blood sample taken from you to confirm what I suspected." He pauses. I take that chance to buy myself a little time from the inevitable accusation.
"Wait, sir, how long was I out?" He made it sound like he had been poking around for a while.
"A couple of days. You were in a bacta tank. Back on topic, I found out the most interesting thing about you is that your DNA is a clone's. Now how did that happen?"
And the hammer falls.
"This is why I took care not to end up around other people. Yes, I'm a clone, though more like an accident to everyone else." I really do try, but the bitterness in my voice isn't well hidden; especially from a Jedi.
"I see. And how is it you were on the battlefield so young?"
"If you really did research me, then you would know that I disappeared three years ago. All that time was spent fighting or captured by Separatists."
"And you couldn't wait until you got the proper training?" A bark of humourless laughter leaves me before I knew it was coming.
"We both know they weren't planning on sending me out to fight like everyone else. I was going to end up with maintenance or as a lab rat." He studies me carefully, evaluating wether he's on stable ground or not.
"What's your name?" He asks.
"I didn't—I left before I was nicknamed." For some reason, this admission embarrasses me.
"Okay, then. Number?"
"CT-28-3758." I answer without hesitation. Those numbers were permanently branded in my mind ever since I could talk.
"Why did the Separatists want to capture you?"
"I'm a clone. What I did know I wouldn't tell. And besides; I'm kind of a genetic anomaly seeing how I'm female and all. That, and I...uh," I scratch the back of my neck. "I'd sort of been causing trouble for them for three months. I was a nuisance to have around." His stern expression holds long enough to make me uncomfortable before breaking into a smile.
"I bet you were. When did you get away?"
"Nine months ago, give or take a week." His expression softens.
"You were a prisoner for two years?" I nod, keeping a straight face. My face is more or less like the average cadet's, though feminine in a way that throws off most suspicions of my origins.
"Um, what happened to my gauntlets?" Changing the subject seems like the only way to break the growing silence.
"Confiscated. Where'd you get them anyway?" A smirk creeps into my expression.
"I might've accidentally snitched them on my way out of the prison I was in". Whatever they're made of, they definitely work. Skywalker sits up straighter.
"And you didn't think they would have a tracking device on them?" His tone has shifted to a mix of urgency and near disbelief.
"'Course I did! I'm not an idiot. I searched them inside and out. Those homing beacons are long gone." He relaxes.
"Sorry. I'm a little cautious with anything concerning Separatists."
"Me too." The door opens and the droid comes back in.
"My patient needs to rest." I try glaring at it again, but it just waits until I lie down.
"I need to go anyways. Goodbye." Anakin says while standing up.
"'Bye." Once he's gone I get comfortable. I am not going to be moving for a while. "When can I get up again?" I mumble.
"Repeat. I did not hear your statement."
"Do you know when I can get up again?" An edge of impatience is noticeable in my tone.
"I am assigning you two weeks of bed rest. Do not try to get up unless to relieve yourself." My eyes snap open.
"What? I thought I was in a bacta tank earlier!"
"A genetic anomaly in your DNA caused the bacta to have a weaker effect on your body."
Yet another reason to love being me.
Shut up, Pessimistic Sarcasm.
A.N. — So, there's the first chapter! Chapter two coming up, already prewritten and requiring only a bit of work. Please review, positive and negative comments.
~Aranar'ven