Chapter 2:
The lift takes me down to the level below, which I suspect to be the Kryat's residential area. There's no one around, so I pick a corridor and began to walk. After a moment Doggs catches up to me, sprinting up from behind. He's the first person I've seen since Coy.
"How'd it go?" He asked. "She's intimidating, right?"
"Just a bit," I said. Actually, I thought she'd been a breath of fresh air. I'd spent a lot of time with authority figures over the past month. They either wanted to be my enemy, like Osca's aunt Grand Moff Trentiss, or they acted like my new best friend, like Chrona, the late designer of my dresses. Coy did neither, she seemed to view me objectively in terms of what I could or could not accomplish for her. She was just being logical, and I'd do the same in her place.
"Anyways," said Doggs, "I've got a class of new recruits to teach in a few minutes, so I'll have to let you fend for yourself." He hands me a datapad. "The layout and everything is on here. Your clearance levels have been set into the system already, you'll be able to get into every area Coy wants you to be able to at the moment. You've got a different room than the one you woke up in, but this should show you the way to your quarters."
"Okay," I say.
"See you," Doggs says warmly, and heads away at a brisk pace.
Scanning the Kryat's floor plan on the datapad, I locate my quarters on the deck below and set off toward them at a brisk pace. I pass multiple Rebels, mostly soldiers and crew members, but even a few women with children. I speak to no one, and don't pause for a second glance at any portal or computer terminal. The holocron is burning a hole in my pocket, metaphorically speaking. If I really try, I can remember the Force, the telekinetic energy roiling off me like some instinctual response to danger. I'd blasted a wooden pendant out of my palm and right through a boy's chest. It tore a hole like a bullet, and if I focused I could still recall the smell of Fen's zabrak blood dripping away. Now that was power I wanted again. Power I wanted now. If I could control that kind of power I wouldn't have to bend to the will of Coy or Trentiss or anyone like them again. Well, probably.
I take a lift down one level, take two lefts and then a right, and pause at the room labeled 311 on the door panel. The door slides open when I press my thumb to the keypad. I enter my new room. It's very small and plain compared to my apartment on Coruscant, let alone my suite in the Tribute Academy. I find it refreshing.
The walls, floor and ceiling are white. There is a single bed, more of a cot really, that takes up about half of the room. Sheets, blanket, pillow; all white. The only decoration is a square of reflective surface on one of the walls; I look into it in intently. Functional as well as aesthetically pleasing (bacta brought out the best in my features, not they weren't just as objectively good as ever). There is a small closet with hangers, but empty of any clothing or other items. There's also a door leading into a closet-like refresher unit. My datapad tells me showers are located in a room down the hall, to be shared by everyone in this hallway and the next.
I put my data pad on the shelf in my closet, and flop down on the bed, holding my holocron in both hands. I realize I have idea how to activate it. I run my hands over it, feeling all its nooks and crannies, searching for hidden buttons or hatches. After several moments, I give up on this branch of effort, and toss it into the air to myself over and over again. Unsurprisingly, that gleans no results.
I cross my legs under me on the bedspread, after kicking off my shoes, and glare at the holocron once again. This doesn't help either.
I focus my breathing. In and out, in and out. I think back to the times I've used the force before, not just telekinesis, but the processes I did not even recognize as abnormal, the way I could read people, sense their emotions, even influence their feelings if I really, really focused. I try to read the cube the same way, focus on it, sense it. In and out. I flex and relax my muscles, first my toes all the way up to my face and back again. In and out. I still push and prod the cube, but only in my mind. I am so intent that there's a hardly a difference between what I see and the vision in my mind when I close my eyes. In the latter I imagine some change. I'm not sure what, but something clicks. The holocron begins to glow from deep within. I can't tell when the change occurs, not specifically, but when I open my eyes I realize the same thing is taking place in reality.
The glow starts subtle, and rapidly intensifies, until there is as much light coming from the holocron as from the rest of the lighting in my room put together. This light focuses, till an alien stands in the air before me.
It is similar to a hologram, but different. Holograms make sense. You can see where they come from, and the images are obviously digital. This figure is different, the light seems more solid, more detailed, more…real, I guess. Still, when I whip my hand through the being of light I feel nothing, just like a hologram.
The woman before me says nothing, but she seems to glare, so I can't tell whether she recognizes my presence or not. She's a Togruta, and I immediately think of Sharon: specifically the sound of Zanna's axe splitting Sharon's skull. But this woman is not Sharon. She's at least twenty years older, forty-pounds pudgier and shorter to boot (not just because the holocron image is only about two feet tall). She has a round face, a small nose, and is dressed in plain light-colored clothing (tinted-green, but I think that's just the nature of the holocron recording) under a long -cloak tied across her breastbone. A hood hangs down at the back of her neck. I move to look at her back, intent to examine from every angle, and her eyes follow me. "Do you want something?" asks the Togruta
"Oh good, it seems I've activated the holocron correctly," I say.
"If that's all you were looking for, you might as well switch me off," she says. It wouldn't call it scorn, what I hear in her voice, but it's something along those lines. Emotions are tricky for me to classify, although that's about the only way I can hope to make sense of them.
She's no hologram, there's no lag, no interference, and she is definitely here in this room. I can sense the energy coming off her. Not life force, not exactly, but intelligence. Data might be the word. The size difference between us makes this among the more unique conversations I've ever had. I sit on my hands and start with the basics. "Who are you?"
"I am the holocron representation of Jedi Master Thea Tem of the counc-"
"Thea, Jedi, got it," I said. "You may begin teaching me now."
Thea sighs dramatically, "And what should I call you, young lady."
"Ka- The Chosen One will suffice."
"Chosen one?" she raises an eyebrow. "Chosen for what."
"To bring balance to the force."
"Not likely."
"Haven't you heard the prophecy?"
"I read a lot of prophecies," Thea says.
"About the chosen one that will bring balance to the force…"
"What the hell kind of prophecy is that?" Thea shakes her head scornfully. "That's Bantha shit. We don't want balance. I want the light side to triumph over all! Then there will peace and safety and security for everyone."
"The details aren't important," I say. My first Jedi is a lot feistier than I expected, I wonder if they were all like this. "The prophecy was probably after your time. The important thing is you teaching me. Right now."
"After my time…" Thea muses, chewing on a thumbnail. "I suppose is has been a while. What year is this?"
"105 A.B.Y." I say.
"A.B.Y.?" Thea scoffs. "What the hell is an A.B.Y.?"
"Years after the Battle of Yavin," I say.
"That gas giant planet? Who the hell fought over that piece of-?"
"That's not important," A little tact can go a long way. So I decide to use only a little. "I really do need your help. I have power; I am sensitive to the force. But I don't know how to use it, I need your help. Please teach me."
"You're much too old to start," Thea says, though with less vehemently than before. "Jedi are selected at birth. You could never pass the trials without-"
"It doesn't work that way," I say, "Not anymore."
"By all means, go on," says Thea.
So I do. "About a hundred and twenty years ago, the Galactic Republic became the Galactic Empire, a fascist regime controlled by a single man named Palpatine. He branded the Jedi as traitors to the Republic and exterminated them, ruling the galaxy with an iron fist.
For once, Thea is speechless. I continue. "There have been resistance movements, people have fought against the Empire, but all have been defeated and destroyed. There are no Jedi, and the force is a thing of legend. People sensitive to it are still born, but all are either controlled by the Empire or murdered in its yearly gladiatorial contests.
"I am in a unique position. I've escaped the Empire's reach for the moment. Right now I'm on a ship, part of the Rebel Alliance fleet. They're going to fight the Empire, and they need my help. I've survived two of the Empire's killing games, and I've done so defying them. I've got a bit of a reputation as a source of hope, an underdog, a freedom-fighter. I can lead them, I can be a symbol. I'm going to inspire people, get them to fight back, so that we can topple this Empire and usher in a new age of peace, prosperity and freedom.
"That's why I want your help. I can't do it alone. I need to become more. I need to be a Jedi. Together, we can bring the order back."
"Are you really the chosen one?" Thea asks quietly.
"I don't know," I shake my head. "That's what their President says. I'm not sure I believe in prophecies. But that doesn't make it any less important to our success. Can you teach me?"
Thea pauses before answering. "I may not be myself, I may not even be here, not really," she says, "But I can still read people."
"Am I worthy?"
"Short answer: no," says Thea. "You just want the power."
"Well…" If she really can read people, I don't want to lie.
"But," says Thea, "That doesn't mean I won't do what I can. Your motives are selfish but your story rings true. If the Jedi are really gone this brings me great remorse. I kind of liked those guys. We had some good teachings. There hasn't been a time in Galactic History, the parts I've of heard at least, where the Galaxy couldn't use a little more serenity, some humility, and a bit of looking out for the other guy too. Now more than ever. If training you and helping your Rebellion win is the first step toward spreading the Jedi code around, I will do what I can."
"So you will train me?" My heart beats faster. It seems I've convinced her.
"I always liked a good challenge," Thea smiles.
"So…uh…let's start," I say.
"Alright," says Thea. "From now on I am your master and you my apprentice. You will do as I say and think what I wish you too. Through this I shall remake you as a Jedi."
"Yes, ma'am," I say. I only intend to follow her orders if it matches my best interests, but I hardly need to tell her that.
"Master will do fine," says Thea. "Let us begin with the most basic of meditations. Before you promote positivity, you must become it. Rewrite yourself in the image of the Jedi code."
"So I become a piece of paper?"
"No," Thea says, and adds as an afterthought. "Shut up." She sits in the air.
I mimic her position. "No," she clarifies, "On the floor." I climb down and assume the position again. My legs crossed tightly beneath me, my back straight as a rod. I rest my palms on my knees and close my eyes.
"Calm your breathing," Thea instructs, "Focus it. In. Out. In. Out. Your heart should be steady, beat-beat, beat-beat. You could keep time with it, keep a rhythm. That's what you want. Now clear your head. Think of nothing but white light and blankness. You cannot fill a glass that is already full."
She falls silent, so I continue to sit a breath. Is this what they call meditation? Seems like a waste of time to me. I could be strategizing or working out. But I banish these thoughts. There is the blank. There is light. I breathe in. I breathe out. Beat-beat.
I do not know how long this goes on. Once I peek at Thea. She's sitting as I am, a look of rapture on her face. I must be doing it wrong. I close my eyes and get back to work. And it is work. After what feels like hours my back starts to protest. My nose itches I resist the urge to scratch, try to think it away…
My head hits the floor. "Up, chosen one," Thea demands. "Face me."
I look to her, rubbing my eyes. I'd fallen asleep. "How long was that?"
"Six hours, give or take," she says.
"That's lengthy."
"Not really," says Thea, "You'll be doing twice that soon."
"I'm sure," I say, "Could we work on levitating stuff now."
"Oh, no, first things first," says Thea. "You need to fix your messy head. That's why we usually start them young, it's easier and quicker. You have all kinds of ideas we need to swap out."
"How long will that take?"
"Maybe like a year? I've never trained someone your age before, so it could be longer."
"Couldn't we skip ahead?" I ask. "I need levitation powers for throwing people around and stuff."
"Seeking power for your own sake is the way of the Sith," says Thea. "What I'm teaching you now is all foundation, the meditation and the philosophy. With it you earn the right to power, and you learn not to abuse it or use it contrary to the force. I teach you all or nothing. Otherwise, I can't bear to think what I may be responsible for."
"Very well," I say, sitting on my bed. I pull on my shoes.
"Where are you going?" asks Thea, "We were off to such a mildly respectable start."
"If we're going to spend two hours doing nothing, I'm going to need something to eat," I tell her. "Is there a way to switch you off? To save the batteries or something?"
"No, holocrons don't have such limited power sources," Thea scoffs.
"Very well," I say, "I hope we can continue shortly." I walk through my door and don't look back.
It doesn't take me long to realize that I left my datapad with the floor plans of the ship back in my quarters. I don't feel like going back for it though, not with Thea around. No need to show her any sign of vulnerability, even a minor one.
I may have taken a few wrong turns, and run into some doors that my low security clearance turned into dead ends, but I still make the mess hall before long. One of them at least, I think the Krayt has two or three. It's a big ship.
I get my meal from a boxy droid who bustles around behind a long counter. It spouts a short stream of beeps and whistles as it presses a tray filled with what was basically a warmed MRE into my hands. I don't speak droid.
The cafeteria is mostly empty, though a few groups of Rebel soldiers or engineers eat together along the long rectangular tables. I had been planning on taking my food back to my quarters till I saw her. I couldn't resist, coming across a woman I knew in this place had seemed highly unlikely.
I slid onto the bench across from her, plonking my tray down on the table. My eyes water as I experience the initial dose of Falleen pheromones.
"Oh, hello," Zanna greets me happily; "I see you're awake."
"Yes, it happened recently," I say. "How long have you been here?"
"About two days I think," Zanna replies, "The time has kind of blurred together."
"I heard you didn't get rescued," I indulge my curiosity, "Not exactly, at least. How'd that go?"
"Well, as you know, we got separated when the gravity in the Arena got all screwed up. It threw me into a couple walls, and when I woke up, I was floating around. Weightless, the gravity was completely gone. Drops of water and knives and dead tributes were all just floating around. So I went off looking for you people.
"I didn't find anyone for hours. And then I ran into an imperial salvage crew. Three human men trying to count the dead and sum up the damages, see how much of the Arena was worth trying to fix. I'm partial to human men, or at least they're partial to me. They told me all about the Rebel attack. Then I killed them all and stole their ship. Evading the star destroyer waiting outside took a bit of work, but I managed to avoid them by plunging into a nearby debris field. There I ran into a Rebel ship who'd been spying on the star destroyer. They recognized me and brought me back here."
"What'd the President want with you?" I ask.
"No idea," Zanna shrugs. "Haven't talked to her. They gave me some room and board. I told them a bit of my story and said I would gladly fight for the Rebellion. They said they would gladly let me know how I could help. That's been it. You?"
"Same deal," I lie, "The Rebel's rescued me from the arena during their attack, and I wound up here."
"Any word about Vaynich?"
I shake my head.
"Pity," Zanna says, "I'd like to see him again.
"Sure," I agree. Time to appraise Zanna's loyalty. "But in a pinch I'd settle for screwing the Empire over with these people."
"Granted," Zanna says. "These are interesting times we live in, Kara. Made all the more so since we are such interesting people."
We finish our meal in silence. It's very bland, but nutritionally sound. After all the Junk food of the Coruscant elite I find it a pleasant contrast. The nutritional value is all you need really. Food is fuel.
After I finish, we say our goodbyes, and Zanna points me in the right direction. The gym is empty. I spend about an hour working out: lifting weights and doing other strengthening exercises. I figure I'll need to be in good shape for what it to come. I work up a sweat; feel the strain of my muscles. I don't leave till a trio of Bothan soldiers enters. I slip away before they can ask me for my autograph.
The showers at the end of my hall are just as empty, consisting of a row of cubicles hidden behind curtains for some slight privacy. The water is supplemented with soaps and sonic technology, in order to get the job done faster and more efficiently. The towels are white and have a Rebel symbol stitched in blue at the corner. It's quirky enough that after I finish up I take three towels with me back to my room.
The holocron has shut off when I return; no sign of Master Thea. I place the Jedi data storage device in my closet getting ready for bed. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep.