Chapter Two: Persistence of Memory
My parents said that I was 'precocious,' but I've never understood why, because I just liked to read and study, and for me that was enough. But sometimes I knew things that I shouldn't have, which made them suspect that I was Force-sensitive; though at six years of age I was probably too old to become a Jedi, there was a time when I dreamed of wielding a lightsaber and spending all of my time studying in the great Archives, gathering all of the knowledge I could. It wasn't long before I realized that I how desperately I wanted that life.
As it turned out I was sensitive to the Force, but not enough to be a Jedi, or even join their Corps. "This isn't the place for her," the Council told my parents, and I cried the entire way home.
In the end, it was a childhood fantasy – at least, that's what I told myself as I grew older. It was easier, you see, to fall into other patterns and not think too hard about the life I could have had. For many years while I grew up, I was normal, and it was enough.
So engrossed had she been in her project, Zara had no clue where the Chu'unthor was besides somewhere in the Outer Rim. Seated alone in one of the meditation chambers, she was wholly engrossed with trying to put the pieces of her new life together.
Every ounce of concentration was centered on the equipment before her: the power insulator and conductor that harnessed the wild energy that she hoped to work with; the chamber and activator that would bring said energy to life; the coil of wires that would direct the current to its final destination: a blue-white beam of plasma, a symbol of focus and strength, a tool as much as a way of life.
A lightsaber.
Her lightsaber.
All of the components were hovering in the air in front of her while she built the Jedi weapon without laying a finger upon it. Sweat had begun to bead at Zara's forehead but she ignored it as she used the Force to direct the three small crystals to their new home within the cylinder that would be her new saber-hilt. Her own hands, a pale blue, trembled with the effort it was costing, but she was determined. This time, I'll do it. A droplet of perspiration trickled down her face, tracing the curve of a cheek that was too rounded for a Nautolan, but too severe for a Twi'lek. Still, she ignored her own body's discomfort as she channeled all of her concentration into the task at hand.
The grip was the easy part; even the controls for the blade itself had cooperated. It was the delicate placement of the Adegan crystal within the heart of the weapon that was giving her trouble. Her hands started to shake harder with the effort as she focused on setting the primary crystal within its mount; the Padawan had spent a week meditating on the various crystals that Master Djinn Altis had aboard his praxeum ship, the Chu'unthor, in order to select the best one for her new lightsaber. There had not been many to choose from, but she knew that beggars couldn't be choosers.
And anyone who wanted to construct a Jedi weapon during these times was most certainly – if not a beggar – than a wanted criminal. This thought made Zara's focus waver, just for a split-second, but it was enough. The crystal fell to her bare feet with a gentle thud against the blanket she'd laid out in anticipation of her failure, immediately followed by the rest of the saber's components.
The Padawan's shoulders sank as she sighed. Her eyes, larger than a Twi'lek's but not quite as black as a Nautolan, fell upon the tiny blue crystal that had rolled to a stop in front of her big toe. "You didn't look like this much trouble when I chose you," she muttered to the glistening stone as she picked it up between her index finger and thumb. "Shows how much I know, I guess." She considered trying again, but she was too tired, as this was the third day in a row she'd attempted to construct a new saber.
I don't remember it being this hard at the Temple on Coruscant, she thought as she collected the components to the saber and placed them in a padded bag crafted expressly for this purpose. But then again, it feels like such a long time ago that I made it. Her old saber was lost, a prisoner of the new Empire and she had no idea what had become of it after that night on Ambria, the night that the war, the Republic, and the Jedi Order all came to a screeching halt.
With a sigh, Zara rose and exited the meditation chamber to make her way to the one place where she knew she could clear her mind and collect herself, no matter how somber her thoughts were. One of the advantages to living on such a massive ship is the swimming pool. Indeed, the Chu'unthor was magnificent, equipped with nearly every amenity that one could find at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant...well, before the dark times, anyway.
Before the Empire.
A few steps took her into a nearby turbolift and she lifted her comm. "Master Tallis?"
"Zara...how did it go today?" Her master's voice sounded dubious and Zara figured that she knew what was coming as she activated the button that would take her to the appropriate level. The lift began to slid downward.
"Maybe I should try again tomorrow." She winced and waited for the reprimand that she felt was coming, but there was only silence for a moment.
Finally, her master sighed. "Perhaps. You don't have to make a new one, you know. Master Altis has extras..."
It was an offer that Zara had turned down repeatedly, despite the fact that her master and Kalinda had taken him up on it. I just feel like I need to do this myself. "Thank you, but I'm going to go for a swim, if that's okay. Unless you need some help with the wounded?" She tacked on the sentence at the last moment and tried not to sound as hopeful as she was.
"No. You should rest. I have everything under control here." By here, Zara knew that she meant the infirmary, where there were many wounded to tend to. The war had taken a toll on so many, and Master Altis was determined to help where he could, and those who traveled with him were of the same mind. The Chu'unthor's infirmary was often full-to bursting with new victims of the war, rogue Jedi, clone, and any others who found their way to the Altisians.
"Are you sure?" I've gotten better at healing...or so I thought. Ever since they'd been on the Chu'unthor, Zara had been assisting Honi in the infirmary, and she was learning more and more each day. "I wanted to check on that Bothan female that I was helping..."
There was a pause before Honi replied, her tone full of its customary brusqueness. "That won't be necessary, Zara. Go for a little swim now, and we'll spar later."
A little swim. She still thinks of me as a kid, even though I'm fourteen, now. I know I can help her more than I am, but she doesn't trust me. Zara tried to hide her disappointment at her master's words. "Okay. See you then." The transmission ended just as the lift reached its destination, and the tips of Zara's multiple lekku twitched in anticipation of her swim as the clean scent of water reached her. However, she had one last call to make before she would allow herself to be immersed in one of her greatest joys. Her comm lifted and her fingertips entered another code.
She chuckled when the clone boy's familiar voice answered, though it was hushed. "Did you do it?"
"No," she replied with a sigh, trying not to think of Honi. "But I'll try again, tomorrow. I'm going for a swim now. Are you guys free?"
Drake's reply was immediate and she could hear the grin in his words. "We'll see you there in five, Zar."
"I can't wait." When this transmission ended, Zara was still smiling.
"Drake? Do you have a question?" Weave looked up from his datapad as the young clone approached him from the table where he'd been sitting with the other boys in the massive library of the Chu'unthor. Like the rest of the praxeum ship, the library consisted of a mixture of décor: soft couches and comfortable chairs for reading; wooden and durasteel desks for study, all lit by the faint glow of row upon row of datapads, holo-novels and flimsies. It was late afternoon on the ship's cycle, but the blackness of space beyond the transparisteel windows indicated nothing besides a wide stretch of stars.
The young clone stood at parade-rest before Weave, head tilted. "It's Zara."
A glance behind him showed Weave that Drake's brothers seemed to be unaware of his words, but the medic knew better. "Is everything okay?" He set his 'pad down and met the boy's gaze. I think I know the answer, but just in case.
Drake's feet shifted in a movement that Weave could only think of as child-like. Like all the clones, he had rapidly aged into adolescence, and he and his brothers had only become taller and more gangly in the months since their rescue by Shadow Squad. "She's done with her lightsaber stuff for today."
"Did she...?" Weave sat up, but Drake shook his head. The adult clone nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Well, she'll get it eventually, I imagine."
"She sounded a little down," Drake replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Said she wanted to go for a swim to pick her spirits up..."
In the months following the fall of the Republic, the younger clones and Zara had all become fast friends, but it didn't take much observation to see that this lad was smitten with the Padawan. It's so obvious that he has a crush on her, Weave thought as he regarded the boy. But it's more than just hormones, I think. Drake seems to genuinely care for Zara even though he tries to pretend otherwise around us...kind of reminds me of how Stonewall acted around Kalinda in the early days.
Weave lifted a brow at the other lads, Finn, Keo and Risky, who had gone very still at Drake's words. "In that case, why don't you all take the afternoon off and join her? You've worked hard on your studies, today." No sooner did the words leave his mouth than the boys were on their feet, collecting their datapads and flimsies to stow back on the shelves of the library before they hurried out of the room, uttering thanks to Weave as they rushed by him to the turbolift.
Except Drake, who walked with an overly casual, purposeful stride that did nothing to hide his true anxiousness to reach the Padawan, and Levy, who remained at the desk, his eyes on the datapad before him. After shelving his flimsies, Drake leaned over his brother's chair. "Lev? You coming?"
Levy shook his head, his hand indicating the 'pad; in the glow of the lamp on the desk, the lacework of wires that were affixed to his left arm gleamed. He lifted his hands in a gesture that Weave knew meant I'll see you later, and the other boy nodded once before slipping out of the room. Silently, Levy returned to his studies and the library was quiet once more. For a few minutes, Weave watched the boy over the rim of his own 'pad, wondering as he always did how he was going to help the lad with whom he shared a bond beyond the common blood of all of Jango Fett's clones.
The Kaminoan cyberneticist, Creon Dai, had left his mark on each of them: Levy had the network of wires on his arm that allowed him to access any dataport, in addition to other things that no amount of research had been able to uncover; Weave had the ocular implant, a crescent of metal around his left eye that allowed him to see the world in a variety that included heat-signatures, infrared and ultraviolet spectra, and the very molecules of the air if he desired. It had its uses, to be sure, but it set him apart from his brothers and still made him self-conscious at times. Neither Weave nor Levy felt comfortable leaving the quiet sanctuary of the Chu'unthor as their brothers did. They were just too different.
But the bond they shared made them stronger. Even now, Levy seemed to sense the elder clone's eyes on him, so he glanced up and regarded Weave with interest, his expression questioning as his eyes flicked to the door. Ah, I know that look, Weave thought as he nodded. "Time for another music lesson? You're getting better on the dulcimer."
Levy's face split into a huge grin as he slid off the chair and approached Weave, who rose as well. A certain series of eye movements was all it took for Weave to activate his implant in order to assess the boy's physical condition, which was normal, save for an elevated heartbeat that indicated his excitement over the music lessons. They made their way to the turbolift, as the instruments were kept in the quarters that the former squad-mates shared with their former Jedi general, and Weave ruffled Levy's hair affectionately as they rode. "Kalinda said when she and the others get back, she'd be happy to show you the viol, if you want."
Another broad grin coupled with a vigorous nod. Levy had not spoken since he'd met Weave – a by-product of the implantation of nanogene droids that he'd undergone at Creon's hands – but he was always able to make his thoughts clear enough even without the sign-language that he and Weave had developed and taught to the others.
As Weave chuckled again, his comm chirped. "Master Altis?"
Djinn Altis' voice was quiet and calm, albeit with an edge of concern that had grown common in the last few months. "You should come to the infirmary, my boy," he said. "We have some new arrivals that may interest you." There was a pause; Weave's brows knitted as he stared at the lift's control panel and waited. Beside him, Levy was still.
The next voice they heard was not Altis, but rather Honi Tallis, Kalinda's former apprentice who'd become a common figure in the infirmary due to her considerable healing talents. "You need to hurry...they're unconscious now, but I-" Her voice wavered for one moment, which was so unlike her that Weave's brows lifted in surprise. "I need your help."
"Certainly, Tallis," he replied. Although "General" certainly didn't apply anymore, it was too odd for Weave to call her by her first name as the others did, though for what reason he couldn't have said. "Levy's with me...we'll be there soon."
She sounded relieved. "I'll probably have to contact Kalinda as well." Another pause, though it felt deliberate. "Thank you."
The transmission ended and Weave and Levy exchanged glances. As Levy altered the turbolift's destination, he shot the elder clone a look that said, clear as any words: I have a bad feeling about this.
Honi ended the transmission and turned her gaze to the two clones who floated in the bacta tanks before her, trying to tamp down her agitation as she studied them. Despite the fact that their faces resembled countless other men – including those whom she now called "friends" – she had known these two immediately.
After spending time within the corners of their thoughts, performing the mind trick that had saved herself, Zara and Kalinda the night of Order 66, Honi felt that she would recognize their consciousnesses anywhere. Everyone looks different through the lens of the Force, even men who share the same DNA. Her jaw tightened as she spoke to the Jedi Master who stood beside her. "This is not a good idea. If they found a way out here, others might follow."
"I understand that." Master Djinn Altis lifted his hand to his beard as he exchanged glances with with the Chu'unthor's lead healer, an Arunai woman named Upala. "But It's our job to help those in need, if we are able to do so. Now, perhaps more than ever. So I couldn't turn them away, even if I had known who they were."
The red-haired Jedi tried not to roll her eyes. Of course not. You take in every castoff, every miscreant who floats by. In the back of her mind she was aware that she was being too harsh, that if it weren't for this man's actions, Zara, Kalinda and herself would probably not be alive, but at the moment it was difficult to think well of the Jedi Master who allowed these two particular clones onto his ship. So she kept her mouth shut as she stared at them and wondered how in the stars they had found their way to this sector of the galaxy.
I thought all of the commandos had joined the Empire, like the rest of the clone army. Why did these two defect? The last time I encountered them...she winced at the memory of that night on Ambria. The night that changed everything.
Order 66. The end of the war and the death of so much, including her old life.
"Their wounds are severe, but they should make a full recovery," Upala said in her soft voice. "Thanks to your skills, Honi."
It had been something of an inner struggle for Honi to reconcile her feelings on these clones with her natural inclination to heal the wounded, but in the end she had set her personal conflict aside to do her duty, as she had done many times. But now that the commandos were out of harm's way, the memory of the young clone Milo perishing as he tried to defend Kalinda was overwhelming.
Remorse and bitterness clung to her memories of Milo, whose bravery she'd come to appreciate too late but whose sacrifice she thought of every day. A good, decent man is dead because of their actions, and I don't know if I can forgive them for that, though I know I should. Because they weren't helpful, she tried to push the negative feelings away to dwell on lighter subjects.
At this, she failed.
They took our lightsabers as well. That had been Kalinda's idea: in the aftermath of the order, when Milo had died and the three Jedi were left with nothing but questions and the bile of fear in the back of their throats, Kalinda had determined that the only way to survive was to use the Force on the commandos, to manipulate their minds and make them think they'd carried out the order to eliminate the Jedi "with lethal force." Giving up their sabers was necessary for the ruse to work, and work it had.
Until now, Honi thought with a frown. There can be no other reason for them to have found their way here but to seek either revenge or the fulfillment of their orders. That was why she wanted Weave to come and speak with them; she didn't want to show her face until she knew exactly why they had arrived. Just in case.
She felt his presence before the door to the infirmary slid open; turning, she noted that Levy was with him, as he often was. Honi nodded to the elder clone, who returned the motion as he approached the bacta tanks with a wary step. Their glow bathed his face in pale blue and Honi moved to stand beside him while Upala checked the consoles affixed to the tanks' sides. Normally, the red-haired Jedi would have been fussing over the settings, but she was hard-pressed to maintain her normal levels of compassion for these men.
After studying the readouts, Weave looked at her. "You know them, I take it?"
"Ferro and Archer." She noted that his body stilled and his fists clenched. He knew the story. He knew the names.
Honi watched as he looked back at the tank with new eyes. "Ah." There was a pause before his brows knitted and he glanced from her to the nearest tank's readout. "According to this, they were in critical condition when they were brought on board, but you didn't use any meds...how did you treat them?"
She blew out her breath in a long exhale as she gathered her thoughts, and when she spoke her voice took on the comfortable, even timbre brought about by recitation of facts. "They had only been treated with rudimentary hypos prior to their arrival here, but they were each in a great deal of pain; in order to sedate them properly without overloading their systems with drugs, I employed the use of morichro."
Out of the corner of her eye, Honi noticed Upala and Altis exchange glances at the term, but Weave only shook his head. "'Morichro?"
Altis cleared his throat. "It's a Force technique often employed by healers: the slowing down of bodily functions – initially it was developed as a combat method." He gave the red-haired Jedi a speculative look. "I didn't think that Yaddle had taught it to many."
"I was one of the lucky ones. Morichro's applications are far more practical in healing than in combat, as I've been teaching Zara," Honi replied with a wave of her hand as if to physically move the conversation along. "Anyway, I don't want to be here when they wake up," she added, trying to keep the nervousness from her tone. "Nor do I want them to know that they're on the Chu'unthor. Their ship was picked up several parsecs from here. They were in this state, unconscious and injured, but their distress beacon wasn't activated." She frowned. "Kalinda won't be pleased. There is nothing good about their presence here."
At this, Weave nodded again, his hand skimming over the top of his skull, the hair still shaved into twin strips. She'd noticed that all of the elder clones kept their hair short, as if they were still in the army, while the younger ones seemed content to let theirs grow out. When he spoke again, his voice was speculative. "Do we have their ship? Lev can tap into the onboard computers, if nothing else. Perhaps there'll be a clue there." He nodded to Levy, who was staring up at the floating commandos with curiosity.
It was a practical suggestion and Honi felt a flicker of irritation that she hadn't thought of it, but Altis answered. "We do...it was towed in and brought to the main hangar."
Weave glanced at the commandos' charts once more. "They should be in the bacta for at least a few ship's cycles, it seems. More than enough time for us to do a little investigation, eh Levy?" As he said the words he placed a hand on Levy's shoulder, the young clone turning to grin up at him.
He still can't speak. I wish I could do something, Honi thought. The boy's arm was a mystery that she knew Weave had not been able to solve despite copious hours of research. I made a promise to him that I would somehow repay them for Milo's sacrifice, and I keep my word. I will find a way to help that boy. But now wasn't the time to say any of this, so she merely nodded to the adult clone, who looked at her with all of the compassion of a Jedi that made her feel a little ashamed at her earlier irritation. "Thank you," she said again, hoping that the words didn't sound flippant.
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug as he began to escort Levy out of the room. "Sure thing, Tallis. Let me know what Kalinda says, please."
And they were gone.
Honi turned to the commandos, watching as the bubbles lifted from their breathers and rippled to the surface of the tanks. I know now that all of the clones are not mindless machines...but that doesn't mean I'm happy to see these two. Even after all of the healing we've done, Kalinda might never be able to properly use her knee again, thanks to Ferro's actions. She felt her eyes prick at the memory of that night, but pushed her grief aside and studied the charts. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes and let out a sigh of exasperation that was directed towards Upala as the Arunai woman entered something on Archer's chart. "When was the last time that these tanks were calibrated? The metrics are off on this one."
In her fashion, the Arunai woman gave Honi a patient smile, for all that the Jedi could sense her resignation. However, she suddenly felt very tired, so she shook her head and nodded to the door. "It should be adequate, for now. Will you let me know when they awaken?"
Upala nodded, but said nothing. Altis caught her eye. "Would you like to contact Kali?"
I'm not sure if she's done with the rescue mission, but she should be made aware of this as soon as possible. I do hate being the bearer of bad news, though. Perhaps I'm in the wrong line of work. Despite the wry thought, Honi only gave a cool nod. "Thank you, Master." Flicking her wrist opened the door and she strode out of the infirmary without looking back at the pleasant blue glow of the bacta tanks. Many people found the color soothing, and indeed, there were times where she shared the sentiment. But not now.
Honi made her way to the bridge, the best place to route a long-range communication; outwardly, she was the picture of the perfect Jedi, calm, cool, impassive. Even with a pair of beige scrubs in place of her traditional robes, she exuded the proper, solemn image of an ideal Jedi. Outwardly, she was as still as the glassy surface of a pond, untouched by any ripples.
But within, fear and uncertainty were burning a hole in her heart.
Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed! You guys are awesome! Also, please welcome Dawn of Time, who's done some marathon-level reading in order to catch up! :D
All hail mighty Wookieepedia for the information on morichro, lightsaber construction, and...well, pretty much everything! We'd be lost without you...or at the very least extremely ill-informed. :P