During the ride to the Temple, Bor'om anxiously debated how he should present himself to the counsel. Should he report to them immediately? Should he have his injuries tended first? At the same time he contended with the renewed flood of empathic input that came from the densely populated city-planet, which within minutes had given him a head-pounding migraine. He hadn't come any closer to deciding when the air taxi came to a stop in front of the Temple steps, but when he stepped out he had only a moment more to wonder about it before his body decided for him, and he collapsed.
He came to slowly, vaguely aware of a sense of weightlessness. He opened his eyes and found himself floating in a cylindrical tank of bacta, a breathing apparatus strapped over his nose and mouth. The healing solution had done its work; he couldn't feel the burns or lacerations anymore. Through the glass of the tank he saw a medical droid approaching at their typical, plodding pace. It stopped at a control panel and keyed a command into the panel. The bacta began to drain from the tank, and after a moment his feet touched the grate. When the last of the solution had flushed away, he stood dripping in the empty tank, gingerly stretching to see if there was any lingering sensitivity. His skin felt a little taught across the shoulders, but there wasn't so much as a sting left.
The tank lowered into the floor around him as he pulled the mask off his face, and the droid came forward, offering a towel and a stack of clean clothes.
"Padawan Bor'om, it is good to see you awake. It's been three days. I am B-6. The Jedi Council requests your presence as soon as you feel able. I took the liberty of stowing your belongings in the footlocker beside the door, should you need them for your audience with the Council."
"Thank you," Bor'om answered with a nod. He sighed deeply as he wiped the remaining gel out of his hair and ears. It was finally time to finish the mission. Setting the towel on a nearby bench, he went to the foot locker and lifted the lid, apprehensive of what he would find. Resting on top of the thin gray shirt and ragged, stained trousers was the belt holster and blaster pistol, and beside them, the ruined hilt and jagged bone shard of his master. He was a little surprised they hadn't taken those already, but if B-6 had done all the work, the droid would have no reason to treat any of the items differently. These were the only two things he took from the chest. Grabbing a spare robe that hung by the door, he stepped into the hall, slipping the heavy garment over his shoulders and withdrawing his hands into the sleeves where the broken hilt and broken bone could be kept low profile. As he walked to the council chamber, he began to mentally retrace the steps of their mission. He was grateful for the peaceful atmosphere of the temple; despite the horror he would soon have to revisit, a sense of calm ruled his mind.
At last he stood before the chamber doors, keying the pad beside them to notify the Council of his arrival. The doors immediately parted with a quiet hiss, and he strode resolutely in, taking his place in the center of the chamber, head bowed until he was addressed.
"Padawan Bor'om," spoke a soft, but electronically modulated voice right in front of him. He looked up into the face of the Kel Dorian Grandmaster, Vay Tahn, as he went on, "We are overwhelmed with relief that you have returned to us safely. Are we correct in saying that your mission has taken a number of unexpected turns?"
"Yes, Master," Bor'om replied firmly. He was about to show them his master's remains, but was distracted by a sudden ringing in his ears, and bowed his head instead, trying to suppress it.
"Please, Padawn, deliver your report," Tahn said, just as softly as before.
"Of course, Master," Bor'om said as the ringing finally faded. His gaze remained fixed on the ground as he went on, "Our only lead when we set out from the Temple was the possible location of the most recent disappearance, in a system not far from Corellia. There we discovered the rumors of other disappearances, and expanded our search…" He told them how they tracked each rumor and each lead to its source, time and again confronting only dead ends. But they had been careful in their investigation, kept it quiet, and it paid off when another mass abduction happened on Uzteca II; the abductors either oblivious that the Jedi were searching for them, or too sure of themselves to care. He explained that the trail had nearly gone cold again after reaching Uzteca, until they had heard about the unusual freight traffic going past Terical, where at last his empathic senses had led them to the slave transport.
"…but they had some kind of starfighters supporting them. They tried to destroy the freighter with us and the captives on board. Master Tenei," his voice broke slightly, and he had to pause, "She sacrificed herself to save me. We…I…don't know what became of the slaves. At this point, Masters, any rescue parties sent to find us know more than I, but I can give the location of the facial—"
"Padawan," Interjected Master Graaddik in Shyriiwook, her deep voice somewhat hesitant, "there were no rescue parties dispatched."
Bor'om looked at her, dumbstruck, and then he slowly turned, looking each master in the face in turn. Still, it seemed no words would come. After a few more moments of stunned silence, he managed, "But…didn't you receive our message?"
"We did," Master Tahn answered, "However, the Senate is in the process of negotiating a treaty with Terical. They…didn't want a Jedi intervention to put it at risk. We wanted to look for you and your master, Padawan, but it put too much in jeopardy."
Bor'om stared at the Grand Master for a moment, then swallowed, and looked away.
"I see," He couldn't see how they would do this, "I will keep the remainder of my report brief. The slavers took me unconscious from the wreck of the freighter," Too much in jeopardy? Their lives and the lives of the slaves weren't worth one political treaty? His head started pounding again, "They had a compound built beneath their refueling station. I can't say what became of it after my escape," Had he stayed, had he hoped for rescue…none would have come. "But I can readily locate the base again and…" he stopped, teeth grinding as his thoughts got the better of him. His eyes went to the windows, and then back to Master Tahn's inscrutable antiox mask, "I'm sorry, Master," he said through gritted teeth, "Will the council be able to use this information, or will we need to wait on approval from the Senate?"
"Padawan," chimed Master Misas, a gray-skinned Mikkian, "we understand your feelings, but you must not let them control you."
"No?" Bor'om spat, turning sharply toward Misas, "That's right, it's just you who controls us, who decides who lives and dies." His ears were ringing again, but he ignored it.
"Know your place, Padawan!" Graaddik growled, "We don't make any decisions lightly, let alone when the lives of those in our order are at stake. But every circumstance must be considered. Your perspective is obscured by the details you lack and the weight of your emotions. If you don't check those feelings, you will be lost in them! Your master knew this as she knew the risks of every mission. Such was her commitment. So should be yours."
Bor'om's head felt like it was going to explode, and the ringing had become unbearable. Turning in place, he saw no comfort in the Council members. Just the people who had left him and his master to die. But they were right about one thing. Summoning all his strength, Bor'om pushed back against the physical and mental pain, driving it down until it became manageable. But he didn't stop there. He imagined a dark hole in his mind, and began forcing the anger and sense of betrayal into it, not stopping until it was gone. His headache, his anguish, the ringing, all stopped abruptly, and he stood still. When he looked back at Master Graadik, it was with a neutral expression and impassive eyes.
"Did she know you wouldn't come?" He asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, instead turning to Master Tahn, "My report is finished, Master. If there are no more questions, I'll be in my quarters."
Again, not waiting for a response, he turned and left the room. As he descended in the lift to the Temple's main floors, he found that he still felt numb. He couldn't summon up any kind of reaction to his actions in the council chamber, or even to the Masters' revelation. Marveling slightly, he realized, he couldn't feel anything.
