++++++++++
Dvorak, Mandalor
++++++++++
Shifting in the bucket seat of their transport, Obi-Wan closed his eyes with a meager attempt to meditate. He needed to remain focused, but felt incredibly distracted. Scrubbing his face, he hunched forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
You sense it too, Qui-Gon's deep voice confirmed the spirited nagging that had been pestering him for days. Patting his padawan's back, Qui-Gon was lost in his own thoughts about how to address this mystery woman, should they find her. He had thought to ask about a surveillance camera, but Kiltma had said he specifically requested a private room. The only peculiarity they had to go on seemed to be a visual description. The female Mandalorian had dark brown hair, purplish eyes, and as Chlak put it, she was incredibly tall. But coming from Chlak, that could mean anything. They also mentioned a number of tattoos adorning her forehead, similar to Trafalgar's. Trying to imagine what that might appear like, Qui-Gon recalled Trafalgar's widow's peak and the arabesque design that met at the tip of the arches.
Approaching Mandalor, the pilot announced, pulling the two Jedi from their thoughts. The trip was blessedly short two hours, and reaching Tlaska's main offices in Dvorak took a quarter of the time.
Like the Governor's Palace on Bonadan, this high rise bloomed so high, it's tip was lost in the atmosphere. Wondering if all the offices were dedicated to Tlaska or shared, Qui-Gon paused momentarily before the list of suites. I don't think we're going to find anything that way, Obi-Wan paused a second for his master to agree, and followed him. With a rather conservative receiving hall, the two Jedi easily made their way to a reception desk.
Suddenly sidetracked, Qui-Gon moved closer to examine a series of photographs lining the entrance. Following his lead, Obi-Wan scanned the photos. Most were older Mandalorian men forming the Board of Trustees, but the prime location was reserved for the President and owner of the company. His name, Leopold Trafalgar, was imprinted in gold beneath it. Above and below were two family portraits signifying succeeding generations.
Qui-Gon waved over to his padawan. The first portrayed Leo as a young man with his parents and pet husky. The bottom intrigued them more, for it included an older Leo with wife, two children, and grandchildren. Immediately recognizing a teenage Trafalgar, the two Jedi exchanged looks upon sighting the brunette sitting next to him, both graced with facial tattoos. With no names beneath the photos, Qui-Gon wandered over to the woman at the front desk. It's a beautiful family photo.
It's a family business, she returned cheerily, the cylindrical metal head ornament chiming a new age tune.
I was wondering about the daughter though. I haven't seen many photos of her.
You're not from here are you?
Qui-Gon nodded his head no, while Obi-Wan inwardly rolled his eyes at pointless pleasantries. Qui-Gon's incessant politeness irritated him to the core, but he swallowed his frustration and folded his hands calmly in front of him.
Fianat's always in the papers for one break threw or another. She's really turned Curel around, the receptionist chirped.
Throwing his padawan a sideways glance, he bowed at the trim older woman. You've been very helpful.
She blushed. You didn't need anything else?
No, thank you. She watched them go just as they came.
When they were outside, Obi-Wan was instantly contacting the clinic, leading them to a more quiet corner of the city street.
This is Obi-Wan.
Hey, Obi-Wan. This is Tetre. Found anything yet?
Yes. I need you to look up Curel's main address.
We also need to know what Curel does, Qui-Gon added, his back to the crowds of pedestrians that thronged the metropolitan sidewalk.
I'll download the address onto your link. The company is a subsidiary of Tlaska, and the CEO is one Fianat Trafalgar. You think she might be the one who met with Kiltma?
It's possible. What can you tell us about Curel? I've heard you mention it before.
Yeah. They manufacture most of our lab equipment-
Like centerfuges, Qui-Gon leaned towards the link.
Yeah. They also just made big headlines for contracting with an intergalactic HMO for organic parts.
So they are part of Tlaska's bioengineering division?
Thanks alot.
We'll be around for another couple days if you need anything else.
Ending the transmission, Obi-Wan looked up to his master. Do you think they will go?
Li'sarrow is there. She'll make sure they get away safely. Hands on his hips, Qui-Gon glanced up at the infinitely tall building, and Obi-Wan took comfort in his confidence, hiding away his own doubts.
*****
Although it had been little trouble obtaining a shuttle to Curel's headquarters, finding Fianat Trafalgar was another matter entirely. The two Jedi appeared sorely underdressed as creature's conducted their business to and from the massive skyscraper in weighty headpieces and robes reminiscent of medieval tapestries. Calligraphy adorned the walls in flowing ribbons, entertwined with finely tuned designs of swirls and half notes.
A grand mural poised itself in the center of the far wall, flanked by two Corinthian columns. In it, two culturally distinct tribes battled ferociously in the monstrous receiving hall, a history in and of itself. Nearly fifty feet high its frightening and realistic expression left the weaker hanging back for fear the scene would jump to life.
An armored Mandalorian hero battled a man in a raven robe mounted on a fiery beast. Painted spectators enjoyed the drama from a corner balcony, harping the players with amusement.
Can I assume the Mandalorians don't look fondly on humans? Qui-Gon deducted from the rest of the artwork. Off to the left of the mural, a team of Mandalorians snagged the humans by the ankles, one by one, yanking them off the balcony and feeding them to a pack of wolves.
Marching passed the imposing piece of artwork, they rounded the corner to the lift, where they found a suite directory. Easy enough, Obi-Wan commented as they flew up to the highest levels, but Qui-Gon did not share his sentiment. Let's not be so quick, padawan. She may not even be here.
Seconds later they were emptied to a spherical hall lit from a diamond shaped skylight whose light filtered down into varying echelons of gleaming white and gold floors. Following the arrows, they entered another room with a high vaulted ceiling that left vague voices echoing from unseen corners.
Can I help you? a man called to their attention from behind a broad counter, strategically located to prevent unwanted wanderers, like them, from proceeding into the inner offices.
Is this where we can reach Fianat Trafalgar? the older Jedi inquired politely.
This is her office, yes, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Do you have an appointment?
Lowering his voice, Qui-Gon replied as unthreatening as possible. Forgive us for coming in unannounced, but we need to speak with Fianat Trafalgar. He instantly felt pairs of eyes drill his back. A few Mandalorian businessmen shifted in their seats out in the waiting room, suddenly very interested in the foreigners.
May I ask to what this is regarding? Although Qui-Gon was reluctant to reveal what had truly drawn their visit, he did not want to unfeather this man any more than necessary, so explained they were concerned about a particular product manufactured by Curel. A deep breath of air seemed to mitigate his irritation, but it wasn't until he confirmed that they were Jedi that he moved behind the enclosure.
Glancing around at the number of people in the waiting room, Obi-Wan surmised it might be a long wait. Avoiding the nasty looks from the others waiting, the two Jedi crossed the spacious room and found their way to the far corner of a long wide bench with red velvety pillows and gold tassels. Similar to downstairs, the wall coverings were painted with stylized writing and detailed motifs. While the receptionist's headpiece jingled in the other room, Obi-Wan sighed and kicked his heal onto his knee. Do you think she'll see us?
It's hard to tell, but I sense a great deal of fear emanating from this room.
Obi-Wan agreed. I wonder what it is she's hiding.
We don't know she's hiding anything, yet. It's best to give her a chance to be honest first. Obi-Wan's look implied there was little doubt she was hiding something, for all the pieces they had collected thus far, pointed directly to her.
*
Who is here?! Fianat pressed her hands against the sides of her face, and then lightly swiped at the moisture that beaded across her brow. Butterflies fluttered in her gut; no one expected this. Alright, tell them I'll be there in a minute, she waved him off, then made a call.
Although it was difficult in her fitted skirt, she knelt on the holopad, and waited for Lord Sidious to answer.
My Lord, Jedi are here. She looked up for answers.
Where? On Mandalor?
She nodded, swallowing drily.
What do they want?
I haven't seen them yet. Should I send them away?
No, you don't want to draw attention. Invite them in, but be vague. Tell them to contact your father if they get too meddlesome. Report when they leave.
Yes, sire. Fanning herself, she stood, slimming down her long sheath skirt. Yanking at her Mandarin collar, she spread back her shoulders and went to face them.
*
To their surprise, the jingling receptionist escorted them into a grand office in a matter of minutes.
Welcome to Curel. My name is Fianat Trafalgar, and you are... The woman held out her hand confidently, sizing up the two men that walked through the door.
I am Jedi Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my apprentice Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. They tapped the top of her hand politely, noticing it tremble. Stealing a sideways glance at one another, they confirmed the weblike markings dancing over her brow. She was the one.
She smiled seductively over her pounding heart. Let's sit, she suggested.
Pointing to a intimate sitting area off to the left, she lead them to a flaming orange couch, herself sitting in its single counterpart.
Lovely flowers, Qui-Gon immediately noticed the fragrant bird of paradise decorating the low coffee table between them.
Inhaling a deep breath of air, she crossed her legs and agreed. My favorite.
Not a common variety.
She paused for a moment. No, its not, surprised that he would notice such. So what brings you to Curel?
We are in concern of a particular product called a centrefuge.
We manufacture many items for the health care industry. A centrefuge is a product used to take blood samples on patients. It extracts and separates blood into separate compartments so the analyst can run it through the computer.
Who do you sell these products to?
Labs, clinics, hospitals. Why do you ask?
He didn't answer her question, but barraged her with another. We'd like to know what your procedure is for tracking stolen goods.
Her eye brows bound upwards and her chin slightly jutted. I haven't been informed of any recent thefts. What are you getting at? She cleared her throat, and shifted in her seat irritably.
We've encountered the use of a centrefuge as a weapon of sorts. Qui-Gon noticed her latch her hands on her knee to keep from bouncing it up and down. An attack has occurred in which a centrefuge was used to extract a blood sample from the victim. We also know there have been a number of other systems in which centrefuges have been used to collect random blood samples for genetic engineering.
A businesswoman by nature, her contrived response was vague. I've heard of such. Curel manufactures products for the health care industry; unfortunately, we are not responsible for how the products are used once sold.
Obi-Wan cut in here, unwilling to allow her time to think. Have you not just contracted with a major HMO for the production of organic material?
So you are in bio-engineering industry?
A leader I might say. She sat up taller defying his verbal attack.
Have you been contacted by Bonadan to produce slave labor using cloning technology?
Exhaling, she leaned back into the chair. Is that what this is about? she folded her hands before her delicately. You think Curel supports M'ztka's little science experiment? she raised her eyebrows and began the spiel that won over many of her investors. Cloning is a controversial topic, but under stringent limitations, it can have incredible benefits. For example, those who need organ transplants, can now be assured a compatible organ will be available to them.
Uninterested in this aspect of her company, Qui-Gon jumped on the opportunity to ask to M'ztka. So you are not in support of M'ztka, even though you run a majority of your business on Bonadan?
Unsure of how to respond, she merely glanced back and forth at the two of them, and sidled up back against her chair.
Understanding she was not quite comfortable responding to this question, he cut to the point. We have been informed that someone from Tlaska met privately with negotiators on Bonadan about the Chancellor's proposal.
Clicking her teeth together, she admitted to having met with them. Obi-Wan almost cracked a smile, perhaps they would be able to bargain with her. The Chancellor is still willing to bargain now, he said in all seriousness, but the Senate is planning something more serious.
She nodded, twisting her hands in her lap, letting a few stray hairs fall forward into her face. Hunching up her shoulders, she appeared on the edge of tears, fishing a hankie out of her pocket. I didn't know it was this serious. I'll have to speak with my father, she whimpered.
Very well, Qui-Gon regarded her quietly. When can you let us know?
In a couple of days, I suppose.
Obi-Wan said standing up, We'll be back tomorrow. We'll show ourselves out.
Thank you for your time, Qui-Gon followed out his padawan avoiding sympathetic looks in her direction. They knew all they needed now.
++++++++++
Later...
++++++++++
What do you think? Obi-Wan could barely wait to ask before they were out of the building.
I am not particularly inclined to trust her, even if she did own up to meeting Kiltma and Chlak.
What do you think her father will say to all this?
I hope he still wants to bargain.
After finding a place to stay for the evening, they agreed that more investigation was necessary. If they just made this deal with a Health Maintenance Organization, and the industry just opened up, it's likely they've been cloning tissue illegally for an extended period of time.
I think we should take a look at their labs.
Or speak to someone who has access.
++++++++++
Walkar
Clinic
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I was hoping you wouldn't be asleep yet. All packed? Thaum plopped down beside his friend on the bed. Scooting to the corner, Elia continued staring up through the ceiling, trying to place the foreboding sensation that had plagued her all day.
I'm not going.
Sighing, he hitched his head onto his arm and rolled over to face her. Elia, you are my dearest friend, but it's over. Li'sarrow's decommissioning us. That's it; it's not negotiable.
How could she pull us now? What's she thinking? Elia moped dramatically.
His jaw dropped open. She's thinking about our safety.
What about the Simmians' safety, Thaum? Elia popped up into a sitting position and hunched over into a diamond shaped stretch. Don't you feel guilty for abandoning them?
They don't even want us anymore! Especially not after Qui-Gon declined M'ztka's offer at freedom.
Don't blame him for this. There was no way we could accept.
We? What makes you think you are a deciding factor in this situation? He smashed his hands against his head in frustration. WE- ARE-POWERLESS, Elia. If you didn't already notice. This is not our fight anymore.
Squinting down upon him with an icy gaze, she snapped back, If you are not going to help, then get out!
His look softened. Alright. I'm sorry. He scrubbed her back affectionately, But you've got to find a way to resolve yourself to this.
With sagging head, she whimpered. I wish he were dead.
What do you mean, who?! M'ztka. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than killing that pig of a man, she grunted through clenched teeth.
That's the Dark Side commanding you. You shouldn't entertain such thoughts, he admonished her, sitting back against the headboard to listen more carefully.
She was very still and calm for a moment. Do you think that's what made me capable of killing those men back in the Nimitz? The Dark Side working in me?
he exhaled softly, squeezing her shoulders. You did what you had to do.
Everybody keeps saying that! she exploded again, her hands flew out as she banged her right against the wall. I did what I had to do? Wouldn't you have done the same? She craned her neck back to see him, sucking on her scratched knuckles. Am I the only one who sees that I was acting in the name of humanity? Or am I just a butcher? Yeah, send out Elia, she'll kill anything. Why am I the only one who would have done that? What makes me different from everyone else?
That's not it at all. Li'sarrow trusts you, he leaned back away from her. Too bad she doesn't know you like I do, he grinned.
Elia mirrored back a ridiculous placating smile. As if forgetting her rage altogether, she fell back into her friend's shoulder, picking at her nails. I'm serious, Thaum. She turned to look up in his eyes. If he were dead, the SImmians would have to refuse. The deal would be off.
Speechless, he met her gaze with a roll of the eyes. You can't be serious. This is their only hope, and you want to ruin that?
Glancing away, she ran her fingers through her hair. Then people must be swayed to be patient for another option.
They can't! He flung up his free arm. What reason do they have to believe in the Republic? They've never cared about their freedom before, and now that freedom is at hand, we ask them to decline? Shoving her off, he stood up to express the futility of the compromise. Don't you even want them to have the chance of freedom in this lifetime?
Of course, I do, but what of the thousands of clones that will inherit their squalor? It's like living centuries of suffering over and over.
his palms fanned out with finality. I know that cloning is wrong. It is completely unacceptable, but so is the condition under which these people live. This is the first chance of hope in a millennium, Elia. How can we ask them to refuse? Give them their freedom, then ask the Senate to deal with the cloning.
And what if it were you? And by the way, it very well could be you, she referred to his stolen blood wanted for its unique DNA, and he froze. No. I will not support this kind of cloning in any way, shape, or form, she opposed him flatly.
Fine. But we are leaving soon, and Li'sarrow will expect to see you on that transport, he stormed out.
++++++++++
Blavnor, Mandalor
Trafalgar Family Estate
++++++++++
Fianat entered the familiar hall whispering away to herself on how she should explain this incident with her father. Dots of red, green, azul, and violet danced over her body as she crossed the marbled entrance. The stone mansion received its guest with cold reserve and the inlaid jewels blinked their timeless eyes as she passed.
The lift doors folded back and Fianat was spit out, ready or not. Knocking on the door to her father's favorite study, a voice bid her enter, yet behind the broad onyx desk was not her father, but Trafalgar; he seemed to have been waiting for her.
I heard you had a little run with a couple Jedi today, he chewed on a cigar through the words.
Get your filthy boots off his desk. It's not yours yet, she snapped, her hands instantly finding their way to her hips.
Whipping his legs down on the ground, he hunched low over the shiny black surface as if prowling. Don't change the subject, he hissed. What did you tell them?
She swaggered towards him slowly. I told them you were the one who contracted with M'ztka to revert slaves to clones.
Leaning back in the squeaky leather chair, he smiled. I knew you wouldn't betray Tlaska, Sis. You can't wait to get your greedy little hands on it.
Where's father? she demanded to know, nervously plucking out the dead leaves of her favorite plant on his desk.
Down the hall. When she came closer, he sprang out of the chair and grabbed her by the arm. You better be lying.
A sudden intake of air left her lightheaded, but she held his gaze. You could be taken out of the picture just like that, he whispered.
Sneering down as his white knuckles, she glanced over her shoulder to one of the guards that had followed her up, who, as if on cue, stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself. Take your filthy fucking hands off me, you brute.
Letting her go, he spread his arms and yawned. It's so easy to ruffle your feathers these days.
Tossing the shards of the pruned plant into the nearest waste basket, she clapped her hands clean and unzipped her slim fitting jacket. I guess he didn't tell you anything, or you wouldn't be worried, she surmised.
Who's worried? he bantered back.
When Leopold finally came in, she greeted him stiffly, though he returned the coldness with a warm embrace. Rough day, dear? His robes shuffled around his wide girth as she motioned for the watchful maid to bring him a chair.
she controlled her shaking by sitting on the edge of his desk.
Well, what happened? the voice roared harsher than expected causing the young woman to jump.
They wanted to know if we were helping M'ztka clone slaves.
He rubbed his chin pensively.
They also wanted to know if we were still willing to deal.
his hands clapped together, and he grinned openly. This is exactly what we were hoping for.
Then we're going to deal?! Yesterday you made a fool of me, saying the Chancellor's proposal was ridiculous.
Not intentionally dear- he waved her off.
It's just so easy, Trafalgar bantered, plopping back down in his father's chair and swinging his legs back and forth. She snarled in his direction, disgusted.
We'll be under much better terms with this new agreement. We'll placate them, just like you said. When do they want to meet?
Leo frowned, concerned Sidious would not be ready to act in time, but decided to let him worry about that. Is that all?
She breathed out heavily. Their first question didn't have much to do with this, though. Just some babble about human blood being picked up off the black market.
I knew there was a catch. You idiot! her brother was the first to blurt it out. Of all things, why that? It could lead them directly to the clone armies, and expose our contact.
The Sith is the one who demanded I get the sample in the first place! she shouted back, arms flying up in the air. And he was playing us both at the same time. Shaking her head in frustration, she settled back into an agitated pose, a rancid distaste growing in the back of her mouth.
Now that you have the blood sample you need, her father began, where is it? We have to make sure it's completely secure, or it could lead the Jedi to the army.
It's fine, she waved him off testily. I've got it locked away below floors. She referred to Wek's labs.
Well, I'm glad you called Sidious when you did, her father added. It's best to keep our bases covered until all is secured.
So what's the game plan? Trafalgar now insisted in being kept in the
loop, though last week, he couldn't have cared less.
Your brother will accompany you tomorrow to make a deal. Reluctantly, she nodded. That should keep suspicion away. You, he pointed at his son, just need to make sure they leave Mandalor immediately after the deal.
++++++++++
Clinic
Bonadan
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Soft rapping beckoned each from their sleep in the still hours before dawn. Wake up! Ruebyn cried in a thick whispers, scurrying from door to door. Elia overheard a groggy Meerpa complain and throw something heavy, like a boot, against the wall. Stumbling into their pants, and shuffling through boxes for a clean tunic, they hurried down the hall anticipating the worst. The first to be ready, Tetre burst through the door that sealed off their private quarters, and fell into a madhouse of agitated Simmians. Both patient resident rooms were chock full of families, whose wide eyes instantly looked to the healers as they pressed their way into the crowd.
As if doused in freezing water, Amelia was now fully awake, forgetting to breathe in the shock. Pushed back inside the hall by Ruebyn, the healers teetered over each other like a precarious structure of dominoes, and rerouted themselves through the kitchen door and into the safety of the common area. Confirming one more time that all doors to the common area were bolted, Ruebyn directed the healers to sit down.
Alright, what's going on? Meerpa untangled the knots in her hair and hitched a leg over the side of the couch.
Where's Li'sarrow?
Was there an accident?
They're going to think we've incited a riot!
The crew barraged her with anxious questions, but she received them with little more than a slow pacing and subtle twisting of the hands. Master Li'sarrow's gone to speak with the governor.
Why are they all here?
Where are all the guards that came with M'Li'sarrow?
Ruebyn tried to explain through the interruptions. As far as we can tell, they've begun a selection process-
God dammit, that lying son of bitch! Meerpa was pacing the floor in seconds. So only certain slaves will be released?
Though flustered, Ruebyn still had time to admonish her subordinate. We don't really know what's going on over there. That's why Li'sarrow's gone.
If no one knows anything, they why are they all here?
Like I said, we're not sure-
Well someone better go out there and ask them. Before Ruebyn had the chance to advise them for the better, Meerpa, Elia, and Thaum were out the door. No! We are leaving on the next transport! Ruebyn screamed, but her words were drown in their ambition.
Pushing her way through the familiar faces from Lepkaum, Elia clutched onto Thaum as they weaved their way into the crowd. Even before she realized what was happening, Elia was snagged by Marta, a Simmian she had dealt with frequently in the past. With a baby slung over her hip and a toddler dangling from her free arm, a ragged and desperate Marta attempted to explain what happened. Healer, they have begun the selection.
Thaum jumped in, listening intently. What do you mean selection? M'ztka said all slaves will be given freedom.
She nodded her head breathlessly. They came to our residence but drew blood from some. If they took your blood, they gave you a shot. They said it dismantles the tracking device. But they are not accepting children, so, I avoided the medroids and came here.
Healer Elia turned her attention back to Marta. But why come here?
What? Who came? Thaum tried to clarify, butting in front of Elia.
The medroids came to every cell. People were fighting, and many were shot by the guards, her words diminished into acid tears.
We've got to get over there! Thaum lurched above the crowd, but Tetre appeared beside him, quick to control his enthusiasm.
Not yet. Not until Li'sarrow gets back, he said, gripping him by the shoulder as if to physically restrain him.
Well contact her, and tell her we're going. They could be hurt, Thaum was feverish with eagerness, and grabbed the Simmian next to him with useless demands for clarification.
Elia, listen to this. He reached out for her, but she had wandered further into the crowd of SImmians.
*
In the meantime, Elia had pulled Marta along behind her until they reached a more private nook. Frantic, the Simmian begged the Healer command her what to do. Do I go back? No one knows anything.
What time do you have to report?
I usually report at the first detail which begins at 4:00 am.
Be there.
What?! How is that possible? That's in half an hour? Not only that, but the other slaves, they're are saying anyone who goes in will be killed.
Something tells me you've got to go, Elia clutched Marta's shoulders with vicious claws and shook her in anger. You know what M'ztka can do!
Take your hands off me, Marta responded fiercely. I'm not going. Nobody's going, so you may as well get that idea out of your head.
That's right. We're not leaving, someone interrupted, barging between them, but another added her own feelings. The Benzoic Mechanism was dismantled after the Massacre in the Valdez District anyway. They have no power over us now.
Do you really think they'd do that? The discussion had drawn the interest of many now, and Elia was swept up in the current. Dismantling the Benzoic Mechanism was merely a political ploy to mitigate the opposition.
We must resist, the Simmian man encouraged to any who would listen. M'ztka cannot be allowed to go back on his word.
Elia wiped at her brow at the rebellious talk. Although she knew she shouldn't, she was almost inclined to encourage them, but refrained for fear of the consequences. She looked at the chronometer. 3:45am. The next fifteen minutes would would be revealing. How would the companies respond?
Wandering away, she overheard a statement that made her glad she left the conversation when she did:
Let the Healers lead us. They have the support of the Senate.
These words echoed in her psyche as she vanished back into the crowd. How was she ever to own up to that? There was no support. Where did the truth lie? At what moment did it all become too extreme for her to handle? When did it begin its transformation into unwitting deception?
Setting these thoughts aside, she pinched at her boatneck collar in the rising heat and refocused. It was critical they prepare for the worst. It was impossible to get back into the common area from inside the clinic, so she squeezed herself through the front door and onto the crowded porch. From the elevated position, she saw thousands of Simmians stretching out far into the moor. Some seemed to barely have the strength to stand, while others shook their fists in the air angrily. Leaning over the railing, she prayed someone would come along to lead the people from the slavery, but she was no Moses.
The guards Master Li'sarrow had come with, deliberately stayed out the Simmian's path. Although they did carry weapons, and brandished them in a threatening manner, the only militant action they made was to surround the hovertrucks and air support that had been moved to a safe distance out on the moors, well passed the greenhouse.
Slipping down the steps, she rounded the building and knocked on the kitchen. Kiana opened the door immediately. When she got back inside, the whole crew fidgeted over more alarming news.
I've attempted to contact the Council, but I can't get through. Tetre explained with a strained calmness, running his hands through his hair.
Let me try. Thaum hastily swiveled into the consul chair and typed in a number of commands, but found each of them unresponding. I don't understand this. How could there be a communication block off world and to Walkar? They don't run on the same satellite links.
Both must be out, Meerpa suggested. Try someplace further. Aklina or Melbanka.
Again another chain of quick taps yielded little response. Slowly but surely the morbid thought settled in. If they could not contact Coruscant, the Senate nor the Council would have any way of knowing how desperate the situation was becoming, and Li'sarrow might be stuck here.
Impatient, a raucous began to grow just beyond the walls, and Ruebyn demanded they gather up their things and board the shuttle immediately. They would not be rerouted to the spaceport, but would take off right here in the moor. Any protests were instantly put down, for they could hardly deny that the situation was well out of their control.
No one needed to announce it was 4:00am, for shrill screams pierced the air in a cacaphonic symphony as a group of Li'sarrow's guards broke in through the kitchen shouting, That's it! We've got to go now! The Gammoreans are here for the slaves.
A second later, the bolted door burst open and Simmians toppled inside, scrambling for refuge. Like a wave of flood waters, they poured in, crushing limb with limb in their efforts to escape the chaos. A second more, and there were welling in from the resident hallway.
Physically taking hold of Kiana and Meerpa, the guards tossed them towards the kitchen where an assembly line had formed to protect the healers on the way to the shuttle, for by now the Simmians had swarmed that exit as well.
In one last effort, Marta had sought out Elia and flung herself in her arms. Healer, they are coming for us, Marta pulled her aside, clutching tightly on her arm. This armageddon they spoke of is coming to fruition. Don't let us suffer. Don't let my children suffer. Give me the poison. Marta's drooping eyes looked heavenward at the plea, but Elia's own faith was suspended.
She wanted to believe the Council would do something to stop this even as the were being plucked out the clinic. The Senate doesn't want the situation to escalate, she rationalized. The investors will force them to protect their goods. The people of the Republic won't allow this- not when they know about what's happening here. But at this point, it was hopeless, and there was little for which to console Marta.
I can't do it.
You didn't mind doing it two months ago, so redeem yourself now, human girl. Give me the poison. Marta pushed forward into Elia's face, but she merely glared back.
No, I'll not. And it wasn't like that. Those people were dying. They were already dead. Simmians pushed and tripped in the room, and Elia sensed that many were hurt in the confusion.
We know what you did with the men. So we too are dying. Why prolong our suffering? We are dying-
-At my hands?! she finished her sentence, ignoring Ruebyn's commands.
At your hands either way. She waited for the healer to act, but she seemed frozen in an alternate universe.
A guard picked her up by the shoulders and whisked her out, tripping along with him, but she didn't resist. Numbed by Marta's accusations and the fear that boiled over from the Simmians, she let herself be dragged towards the convoy- until the fear began to fill her as well. Like an infectious disease, the hatred crept into her veins and she could only see one image. M'ztka. He was to blame for all of this. Then with that hatred, her serpentine limbs went soft, and she slithered her way from the guard's grasp.
And the Simmians, lost and disoriented, could think to do nothing but run. Many ran off into the Moors, but others flocked to the clinic and ultimately to their deaths. The Gammoreans were merciless with their weapons, firing indiscriminately into the masses.
Everything moved so quickly in those next few seconds. The engines fired up, and the ramp lifted. The remaining guards dispersed in the hover trucks, and with a whirl of dirt, it was if they had never been.
Dashing to the greenhouse, Elia hid behind the Selve's skin and closed her eyes. Hatred for M'ztka bubbled within even as the greenhouse came shattering in around her from stray blaster fire. But seconds later, a huge flash colored night, day, and the glass house disintegrated to splinters.
The explosion threw her to the back of the house, the soft leathery pelt a shield against the glass shrapnel. For a moment, she didn't move, and tried to assess what had just happened. The explosion came from the clinic; the Simmians! Digging herself out of a flower bed, she climbed from under the pelt shakily. The steel frame exposed, she looked back to where there should have been the clinic.
It was as if a giant had ripped off the roof of the building, exposing the insides like a doll house. Elia clapped her boot against a steel beam, the glass bouncing off as she peered straight into the kitchen and common area. Gutted, burnt bodies lie in scattered heaps next to plaster chunks.
Seconds later, another flash and horrible rumble broke free as earth and bodies were chucked into the air in front of the clinic. But the source of the sound did not come from the ground, it came from the air. Glancing up into the low sky, she witnessed the last of healer transports fade into the cloud cover.
Stunned with understanding, she wavered a moment before a barrage of blaster fire woke her from the shock. Scrambling through the mess as Gammoreans marched towards the clinic, a wide eyed healer escaped into the cover of the moor, even as the Selves ran in to scavenge.
