Shadows of the Mind

Chapter Four

Aren didn't require much taking care of. He either sat on the sofa, lay on the sofa, or paced in front of the sofa like a maniac. Brenna made sure that food and water were available for him, but other than that, there was really nothing more she could do for him.

Han, of course, required more constant care, but he still slept a lot, and while he was sleeping, she learned everything she could about her office from her computer-which wasn't much. The building itself had served as the main administration building for the original Brenna Brellis, although the exact location of her office was unknown. The building was structurally sound, the location was central to the complex, there were enough offices and conferences rooms to satisfy every need, an internal communications network was already in place – in short, the building could be easily repurposed at minimal cost. Brenna had simply ordered a face-lift – new paint, some new furniture – and pressed it into service as the administration building for the Rescue Center. After all, she was not superstitious – or at least, she hadn't thought she was – but if her Dad was saying there was something about the building or her office, then maybe she'd have to reconsider that decision.

It wasn't until Brenna closely reviewed the survey report on the building that she discovered the slight discrepancy. The surveyors themselves had discovered it, added it as a minor footnote to their footnote to their report, attributed the slight discrepancy to a prior re-model.

There were about two feet of unaccounted for space between the wall of Brenna's office, and the office next door.

Brenna contacted Devon, then sent a scan team and a construction team—which in this case would be a de-construction team—to her office, to open the space and find out what was there. Then she woke Aren and asked him to babysit Han for her.

Her father had told her to stay out of her office, but he hadn't said anything about the staff lounge. Whatever the thing in her wall was about, she had the feeling it was important, and she paced the length of the lounge in nervous=excited energy.

The intercom buzzed—she'd told Devon where she'd be—and she went to the wall panel. "Yes?"

She could hear voices in the background, talking even before Devon's voice came on. Yes, something had definitely happened.

"Brenna, you need to get up here," he said.

"What'd you find?" she asked.

"You need to see it for yourself."

"One minute."

She raced to the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. There were workers spilling into the hallway, the helmets of their haz-mat suits removed—no danger of toxins, then. Devon shoo'd them out, and motioned Brenna in.

"What is it?" Brenna asked.

"A body. Frozen in carbonite. It was hidden in the walls of your office. Probably been there since the first Brenna Brellis, or earlier."

"Viable?"

Devon shrugged. "Something's working on it. There's a light blinking, but I don't know what it's for."

"Call a med team, stat." Brenna said.

"Done and done."

"Any idea who it might be?"

"No, but—"

A couple of the workers still in Brenna's office, working on the section of wall that had been ripped apart. They parted to let her see what they had found.

"Sweet Deities," Brenna murmured.

"My thoughts exactly," Devon echoed.

"It's a child!" she exclaimed.

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Brenna tore her eyes from the carbonite image of the little girl, and looked at Devon. "We need to keep this under wraps," she said.

"Agreed."

"Get everyone who's seen her to the theatre-toreum. I'll need a trustworthy AV tech, too. Order the med staff to secrecy before you let them in. I'll address them later."

"Right."

"Absolutely no media on this. Hopefully we can find out what's going on before this gets out." She looked at him with an expression that reminded him of the last time she had ordered him to keep media out of the loop, and he had disobeyed.

"This time, I agree with you," Devon said.

Brenna let out a breath and looked at the workers, who had stopped clearing a space around the frozen child. Some of them were staring at the girl, some looking to Brenna for instructions.

"Is she clear?" Brenna asked.

One of them spoke up. "Yes, ma'am.. Ready for the med team. Want us to put your office back together when they're gone?"

"No rush on that. But I would like to see everyone involved in the theatre-torium in—" she looked at Devon, who flashed both his hands, and then one hand "—fifteen minutes."

The one who had spoken must have been the foreman, because the others turned to him with questioning eyes. He made a sweeping glance over them, then motioned to the door, and the work crew left the office to head toward the theatre-toreum.

"Keep me posted," Brenna told Martuk. "Channel two."

"You know, the communications system here could use some improvement. Two is the only secure line we have."

"I'm working on it," Brenna told him. "The Request for Proposal is already posted. Trevis has promised to review whatever comes in—"

"You mean, try to hack it," Devon interrupted.

Brenna gave him a small smile. "'Review' sounds better. Anyway, I don't want to spend money until we know what we're getting."

"Your call," Devon said. "Good thing we haven't had to deal with any real emergencies yet."

"We're not ready yet," Brenna told him matter-of-factly.

"I know. But some people—including me—are getting restless."

"Be careful what you wish for," Brenna warned.

The intercom beeped, and Devon answered it in a low voice, then turned it off and looked at Brenna. "Med team's here."

"No chatter on this," Brenna reminded him. "And…stay with her, will you?" She motioned to the carbonite casing.

"She's frozen, if she's even alive," Devon reminded her.

"I know, but…stay with her."

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Brenna drew a breath and stepped onto the stage in the theatre-toreum. The AV tech had unlocked the room and turned on the lights, and turned off the recording devices.

As soon as she reached the podium, the talking ceased.\

There were only a dozen or so in the audience, and Brenna would have preferred a more intimate setting, but the size of the group was too big for the smaller meeting rooms, and this was the most logical place.

"Thank you for waiting," Brenna said. The mic picked her voice up and amplified it enough for the workers to hear her, but not enough to boom through the nearly empty audience. "You probably already know what was found in my office. I won't go into the details of why we went looking, but…certain sounds and a discrepancy in the building plans led me to believe that something was there. The something was actually someone, and most of you already know that the someone, was a child. Apparently a little girl, frozen in carbonite. The med team is looking at her now, and it looks as if she may be still alive, after being frozen for some unknown number of years. The thing is—" she paused and looked from one member of the work crews to the next. "The thing is, this is still a child, no matter how long she's been in hibernation. Right now we don't know anything about her. She may still have family—we don't know. If the med team can revive her, we may know more. But for now, I'm asking each and every one of you to keep this to yourselves. If word leaks out, and especially if she's still alive, the publicity could adversely affect her. If she's not viable, then none of this matters and you can talk about it to your heart's content. But I believe she is alive. And until her doctors agree that she can handle the media sensation that her discovery would be likely to cause, I am personally asking you to protect her privacy and give her the chance to recover from…whatever caused her to be frozen like that."

"What if word leaks out?" one of the workers called out.

"In that case," Brenna said, "an investigation would be launched, and whoever was responsible would no longer be welcome here. Most of you came here to either find a home, or help others in need, which is what this Center is about. Who could have known that the first person to need our help would have been found right here at the Center? "

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Brenna brought Aren and baby Han with her to the Med Center, and appropriated a small waiting room for her own use. Aren was turning out to be a pretty good babysitter, despite his grief over his father and anxiety over his mother. Holding, feeding, and changing Han gave Aren something to take his mind off, albeit temporarily, what had and was happening on his homeworld. Little Han, for his part, seemed to take to Aren without hesitation, without any of the stranger anxiety that babies were often prone to.

The girl in carbonite was still alive, that much was certain. It was also certain that she was the source of the headaches and the voices Brenna had experienced—which meant that the girl was a Force-sensitive who could somehow communicate at some level even in her hibernated state.

The girl had been brought to the Med-Center, and while the team scrambled to interpret the various readings on the slab and figure out whether it was in the girl's best interest to revive her or ship her off to a better equipped facility, Brenna made herself and her two charges as comfortable as she could in the appropriated waiting room.

The call came from the Med-Team that they thought they had finally figured out the readings, and they thought they could revive her, but wanted Brenna's orders to either do so, or ship her off.

"I don't want her left frozen for one minute longer than she has to be," was Brenna's reply, and left baby Han with Aren to run up to the treatment room to witness first-hand what was going on.

When she got there, the thawing process had already begun. The carbonite was glowing and melting, the room temperature was growing chilly as a result, and a tech was reading off numbers that the doctors seemed satisfied with. Devon Martuk was there, too, hovering in the background just like Brenna. As one of the doctors declared that she was regaining consciousness, another team member looking at brain activity suddenly yelled "Whoa!" and then turned to the others and said, "There's a lot of emotional distress! You might want to slow this down!"

"Can't," one of the doctors replied. "Once the process has started, it has to run its course."

"There's some sort of implant device connected to her brain," another said.

Brenna peered over the shoulder of one of the staff to see a module of some sort attached to the girl's scalp. It had been covered by the carboninte and was thin enough not to be noticed until the carbonite had melted over it. Indicator lights on it were blinking.

"Get Tibbik," Brenna ordered.

A tech went to the communications station to contact Tibbik, and then, suddenly, all Hell broke loose.

The girl on the table made a guttural cry, like an enraged beast, and her hands slapped at her hibernation-blinded eyes. Fearing that she might hurt herself, med staff on either side of the table grabbed at her arms to hold them down, and the girl curled her legs up toward her head, then kicked out on either side, causing the staff holding her to release her and stumble back, crashing into equipment and tools, which were sent clattering to the floor. Other staff tried to grab the girl, and the child managed to successfully fight them off, slapping at her eyes between blows. Somebody shrieked as she broke his arm, and somebody else prepared a hypo spray.

The girl rolled and fell off the table onto the floor, and in the confined space of the treatment room, managed to create chaos as she fought off med staff who were trying to help her and banged into machinery that she couldn't see.

The girl was blinded, but she seemed to know instinctively when someone was getting close to her, and lashed out, usually striking her target. She didn't seem to sense the equipment, however, and received much bruising in return.

Most of the staff were trying to get to the girl from the floor. Brenna held out her hand to the tech with the hypo spray and climbed onto the table as quietly as she could, concentrating on shielding her presence from the child. When the girl was occupied by an approaching team member from her front, Brenna prayed that the distraction was enough, and jabbed the spray against the girl's arm.

There was hardly any effect.

Brenna scrambled backwards off the table, narrowly avoiding a swing, and glared at the tech who had prepared the spray. "That should have knocked her out," the tech protested.

"Give me the upper limit of what a child her size can safely tolerate," Brenna told him, and took the spray from him again when it was ready.

Meanwhile, the med team had finally backed off, and the girl, sensing this, got to her feet and slapped at her eyes again. For the instant, there was stillness amidst the chaos.

As quietly as she could, Brenna climbed quietly back onto the table. She motioned for some of the staff to move closer, and then looked to the other side pointed to a tray that had fallen in the confusion. Martuk, seeing what Brenna was up to, quietly picked it up, and just missed being kicked by the girl who had heard the sound anyway. Brenna motioned throwing the tray against the wall away from the table and mouthed "throw it." Martuk threw it against the wall, and the girl spun around at the sound. Brenna used the distraction to press the hypo spray against the girl's neck. The girl stood upright for a second, and Brenna backed off the table quickly, landing on the floor just as the girl swung an arm at her.

The momentum of the swing and the effects of the drug were too much for the child, and she spun around and collapsed. Devon rushed in and caught her before her head could land on the floor.

"Get a gurney," Devon ordered. "Find out what that thing attached to her is, and take it out if you can."

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Aren's trip to Croyus Four had taken three days. Luke and Rupert's trip back to Elaan's world – the planet didn't even have a name – took just under two in the Falcon. In the meantime, Luke tried to rest, in part to recover from the drain that Brenna's office had put on him, and in part because he suspected he would need all his strength later.

They landed in the same place Rupert had picked out on their previous visit to the bonder's fair. It was night when they landed, and they used Rupert's ability to bond with night-vision animals to make their way down the slope. Luke was less reluctant about avoiding discovery of their advanced technology on this trip. He could have decided to blast their way into the prison, but just as it had been when they had rescued Timmon, there were too many unknown variables with that plan. It was more logical to scout the situation, and take it from there. Luke kept his lightsaber behind his back under his cloak, and Rupert had his blaster the same way. That gave them two weapons: one for infighting, and one for distance. He also packed a pouch with a portable lamp, and medical supplies.

Dawn had risen by the time they reached the fair, and fair-goers were starting to mill. Luke and Rupert put to good use the pick-pocketing skills they had used the last time they were here, and by the time they reached the prison, they had enough coin for Luke to bribe his way to the cellar prison.

The guard left Luke alone outside the cell, not even bothering to simply withdraw back up the stairs, but returned to his post. Evidently, he didn't think there was any danger either of escape or concern for Luke's safety with the prisoner, both of which ideas were worrisome.

Luke could barely make out the huddled figure in the back of the cell. "Elaan?" he called softly.

There was no answer, nor shadow of movement.

Luke thumbed the adjustment on his lightsaber and switched it on. A pencil-thin blade emerged, and Luke sliced through the lock cleanly. He entered the cell and was kneeling by her side in three strides.

She cringed at his touch, and he pulled back.

"Elaan, it's me. Luke." He reached for her again.

She cringed again, this time with a tiny whimper.

The odd angle of the leg sticking out fro her body caught Luke's attention, and he pulled out the small portable lamp to look at it. "Sweet Deities," he muttered. The foot was mangled, and the leg broken – possibly in more than one place. "What did they do to you?"

The smell that mixed with the other smells Luke remembered from when he first saw Timmon here was a clear sign that there was a serious infection.

Luke tried to run his hands over her body to check the extent of her injuries, but she cringed again.

He'd never be able to move her like this.

He reached into his pouch again, found the hypo spray, and pressed it against her neck. Then he adjusted the spray, this time for antibiotics, and pressed it to her neck again.

While he waited for the knock-out drug to take effect, he contacted Rupert through the Force.

She's in bad shape. Were taking her out now."

In? Rupert asked, wanting to know if he should fight his way in.

No. Distraction. And a ride-beast. One with a wagon.

Give me a minute.

Elaan's breathing became more regular. Luke waited a little longer to make sure she was fully unconscious, then did a quick inventory of the most obvious injuries. With each new discovery, his expression became more grim.

Ready, Rupert told him.

As carefully as he could, Luke picked Elaan up and readied his lightsaber in case he needed it. It would be awkward to use while holding Elaan, but with the ancient-style weapons here, finesse wasn't as critical. Now, Luke told Rupert.

Amazingly, he didn't encounter a single guard on his way out, not even at the table where he had used his bonder's ring and paid the fee to see the prisoner. Even the clerk was missing. Even the prisoners he had passed on the upper level – those who might be sober enough to notice him carrying Elaan—were looking out their barred windows to a commotion outside.

Once Luke was outside, it was obvious why his exit hadn't been challenged.

It was chaos.

Ride-beasts, mortus, skerrits, rodents, birds—every animal in the fair had seemingly gone mad, and people were running and screaming this way and that, trying to get away from the crazed beasts that were attacking them..

Nice, Luke thought into the link. But what about—

His question was cut short by the arrival of a pair of ride-beasts pulling a wagon, which stopped just ahead of Luke's location on the road.

Rupert rose to one knee in the back of the hay-filled wagon and took Elaan from Luke. "You were saying?" he asked aloud, grinning. Then he saw Elaan's bare foot dangling at an improbable angle and muttered, "Merciful heavens!"

Rupert lay Elaan down on top of the new hay in the cart. Luke climbed up behind him and stretched his body across Elaan's as much as he could, to try to shield her somewhat from the jouncing he knew was coming. Rupert moved to the front of the cart and crouched low, adding his forward-facing vision to the side-vision of the ride-beasts. With a Force-nudge from Rupert, the animals took off through the fair, looking to all the world like the rest of the animals that had suddenly gone berserk.

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They rode the hay wagon to the path they had made from the Falcon's landing site. Rupert quickly cut through the animals' harnesses at odd angles to make them look as if they had broken off, which given the state of the leather wasn't impossible, and lined the animals up so that the most sure-footed one was in front of the other. Then they turned the Falcon's medical stretcher into a make-shift litter carried between the animals. As carefully as they could, they transferred Elaan to the litter and with Luke and Rupert at opposite ends of the litter to help control it, they made their way up the mountain to the clearing where the Falcon was. They detached the stretcher from the ride-beasts, and Rupert sent the animals on their way. With any luck, they'd find better homes than the one they'd come from. They carried Elaan inside the Falcon, put her in the same medical bay Luke had used after his first lightsaber duel with Darth Vader, and Rupert lifted off.

This time there was none of the care they had taken to avoid being seen the first time they had lifted off from this site. Luke wanted speed, not concealment. The situation was too urgent to worry about cultural contamination. They lifted off as soon as the Falcon was able, with Rupert at the helm and Luke tending Elaan.

As Rupert piloted the ship, Luke treated Elaan as best he could medically, secured a chair next to Elaan's bedside, and settled in to do what his limited Force-healing skills could accomplish on the trip back. Some of her wounds had turned septic, especially her foot, and the best he could hope for was to keep her stabilized until they returned to Croyus Four, and she could be treated at a proper medical facility.

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Brenna and Devon Martuk sat down in Tibbik's office without ceremony. Tibbik's only greeting back to them was a nod.

"We're keeping her isolated for now," Tibbik told them. "Surgeons have removed the implants, and she's not in any physical danger, but we had to induce a medical coma. It's either that or restraints. We don't know what to do for her. Rather, I don't know what to do for her. If anyone comes near her, she becomes combative."

"What were the implants," Devon asked.

"They were attached to her visual and auditory nerves," Tibbik said. "They were sending image and sound stimuli to her brain. How long they were there before she was frozen, I can't say. How much of an effect they had while she was frozen, I also can't say. What I can do is show you a little of what she seeing and hearing when we woke her up." He reached to his computer controls, and the screen behind his desk dissolved into images of warfare, a series of vids, fleeting images of killings, of torture, of dead bodies, of murder and mayhem. The accompanying sound, turned low in volume, was mainly of screaming, shrieking, or sounds of blasters, explosions, audio accompaniment to the horror of the visual images.

Tibbik didn't let it run for longer than a second before shutting it off.

"Sweet Force," Brenna murmured. "Who would do that to a child?"

"I'm guessing Brenna Brellis," Martuk replied. "The first one, of course."

"Why?" Brenna wanted to know.

"Some sort of experiment, perhaps?" Tibbik suggested. "For whatever reason, it was done to her on purpose. Removing the implants has stopped the flood of images and sounds, but I cannot guess as to the effect they had on her, or why she was targeted for such treatment."

"She's a Force-sensitive," Brenna answered. "And she's young. Maybe…those two factors singled her out."

"If we can identify her," Tibbik said, "we might be closer to figuring out how to help her."

"This induced coma—" Brenna said, "—is that the best solution for her?"

"It's certainly not doing her any good," Tibbik said, "but I have reservations about waking her, especially given her reaction when we brought her out of hibernation."

Devon shrugged. "Her reaction may have been because of the implants. Add hibernation sickness to that, and—"

"We can bring her out of the coma at any time," Tibbik said. "But I would advise restraints, lest she hurt herself or any of the medical staff. I'm not sure that I'm equipped to handle whatever trauma she has experienced, but—"

"But you're one of the best," Brenna said, smiling at him.

"True," Tibbik admitted, without false modesty. "I was about to say that I could think of no one else who would be able to handle something of this nature, either. I will contact some colleagues to see if they have any advice to offer, nonetheless. As for her Force-sensitivity, I am entirely unequipped to deal with that aspect of her care."

"My Dad," Brenna nodded. "He'd be the best one to talk to about that."

"My thoughts, exactly," Tibbik smiled. "Which is why I believe it is in the girl's best interests to keep her here, rather than send her offworld to a psychiatric facility."

"Do you recommend waking her?" Devon asked.

"I do," Tibbik replied. "I am worried about the physical effects of remaining in a coma for an extended period—especially given the age of the patient. But we don't know how she'll be when she wakes up, and I would prefer…to have an expert consultant on Force-sensitivity on-hand when we do wake her."

"My Dad should be back in a couple of days," Brenna said. "Can we keep her in a coma until then?"

"That," said Tibbik, "is my recommendation."

Devon cleared his throat. "One question," he said. "We don't know her identity yet. What should we call her?"

"Jane Doe?" suggested Tibbik.

Brenna shook her head. "If someone accidentally comes across a reference to a 'Jane Doe' in the Med Center, it's bound to attract attention that we probably don't want."

"What about 'Dark Child'?" Devon suggested.

Brenna shook her head again. "Descriptive, but too prophetic. I don't think my Dad would approve. And still too attention-grabbing if come across by accident."

"DC, then?" Devon suggested.

Brenna shrugged.

Tibbik folded his arms across his desk. "Until we learn her real name, 'DC' is as good as anything else. I'll restrict her records to secure access, and advise med staff who come into contact with her to refer to her as 'DC.'"

Brenna shook her head. "Boy, is my Dad in for a surprise when he gets back."