Chapter 4 - Awakenings
A consistent stream of light in Zora's eyes finally woke her. She cracked them open a sliver, and saw that it was just past dawn. She was still lying on the floor of her room where she had passed out. Her back burned like fire, and her arm was a stab of pain, like a knife. She couldn't move it, remembered the sound of snapping bones.
What she wanted to do more than anything was crawl into her bed and sleep her life away. Or at least until her back healed somewhat, and her awful headache had left. But Zora knew that if she didn't show up with the slaves Krayn would beat her again.
With this painful knowledge, she struggled to rise. But after one movement of her head, she knew that was a mistake. The world began to spin around, and she lost control of her stomache. All that she had eaten for seemingly days was vomited up, rushing out of her mouth and onto the floor. When she was done, she weakly wiped her mouth and pulled her knees up, resting her head on them. She lost the mature look about her, and looked instead like the young girl she really was. This reminded her so much of another time.
A 13 year-old padawan walked slowly out of saber practice, her head throbbing. She meandered her way toward her room, but the halls were slowly spinning, and she couldn't make it. With a small moan of pain, she sank down against the wall, knees up, hot head resting on them. Her stomache was whirling, fighting her control. Finally, she could control it no longer, and she vomited up her lunch in a violent stream. She couldn't seem to stop. And then she felt cool hands holding her head, stroking her back, a soft voice murmering soothing words. Then she finally stopped, sank weakly back into what she had thought was the wall. But she found herself in her Master's arms. Sobbing, she gave in, for one of the few times in her life, and let her Master rock her like a child.
Snapping out of her reverie, Zora realized with surprise that her cheeks were wet. Furiously, she wiped away the tears. There was no one here to hold her, to comfort her. That was all in the past. Compassion was weakness, a weakness she wouldn't, couldn't give in to. She had to push on. And so she struggled to her feet, pulled off her non-existent, bloodsoaked shirt with one hand, and carefully put on a new one. Then she walked out of her room.
Anakin was also awoken by sunlight streaming into his eyes. He groaned. His head ached abominally, and he was exhausted. All of his Force-work last night had been in vain, yet it had still drained him. Anakin knew he could have escaped. He had feigned weariness - not too feigned, in reality - but then that girl had come. The girl who had captured him. Zora. The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He still couldn't figure out the mystery surrounding her. She was Force-sensitive, and had been trained to use it. But she was a slave trader! And she had put up the shield, the shield that broke his connection with the Force, with his life.
She must have either been trained at the Temple, and had left the Order, or she was a Sith.
Anakin shuddered. Neither choice was very good.
But she had seemed farmilliar, somehow. Not her face, which was covered in dirt. She probably hadn't bathed in years. Not her voice, or her manner. It was her eyes that seemed so farmilliar. He knew he had seen them before, but he couldn't remember where. Anakin closed his eyes and cleared his mind, as he had been trained to do for years now. He then thought only of her eyes, and let his mind wander.
It brought him to the training yards. Anakin could see that this was right after he had engaged in a fight with another Padawan.
They had both been insulted by each other, over what Anakin could not remember now, but neither had been able to control their anger, and had attacked each other. His Master, Obi-wan, had interveened, sending the other Padawan back to his Master and had spoken quite harshly with Anakin about controlling his anger. Then he had been sent back to his quarters.
The present Anakin wondered why his mind had brought him here. This had nothing to do with Zora. The other Padawan hadn't been her, Anakin was sure.
After several hours of awkward silence, Anakin had broken it.
"Master, have you always been perfect? Didn't you ever get in any fights?" Anakin had known as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they would be construed as rude, and he would be further punished. But Obi-wan had only laughed.
"No, I have not always been "perfect", Padawan. When I was young, younger than you, not even a Padawan yet, there was another apprentice who was the same age as me. His name was Bruck Chun. We were arch-enemies, constanly competing, trying to be the better one. We got in many fights, and for one of them I was temporarily sent out of the Order. Well, it wasn't supposed to be temporary, but then Qui-gon took me as his Padawan." Obi-wan smiled at Anakin. "There, you see? You're not the only one who isn't perfect." Then his eyes had misted over, as they did so often when he looked upon the past. "He turned to the Dark Side," he murmered, almost to himself. "And I killed him."
Anakin had been shocked. A Jedi who wasn't even a Padawan yet had turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-wan had killed him? There was so much about his Master that he didn't know.
But something had still bothered him. "Master, you weren't even a Padawan yet. You're actions could be excused. What about when you were a Padawan?"
Again Obi-wan had laughed. "No, I wasn't a perfect Padawan either. Although," he said with mock severity, "I was better than you. But there was a girl, two years younger than me, who was also a Padawan. We went on several missions together, and to put it lightly, we. clashed." Obi had gotten that faraway look again. "But even though we were so different, we finally saw through that and became friends. Our friendship was a strong one, based on trust." Obi-wan's voice had become sad and flat. "Then, only a year ago, she left the Jedi. She and her Master had an argument, a serious one, and she left the Order." Obi-wan had almost seemed self- accusing. "It still doesn't make sense. She was so devoted. I just don't understand how she could leave." He sighed.
"What. what was her name?" Anakin had been afraid to break his Master's reverie.
"What?" Obi-wan seemed to wake up. "Her name? Her name was-"
Siri. So that's who Zora was. A runaway Jedi. Anakin had looked her up in the databanks, read all the information on her. In some strange way she had intruiged him. And that's where he had seen her picture. She could disguise her appearance, her voice, but not her eyes. Now Anakin was glad he had looked her up. He could search his memory banks for information on her, use everything he had to defeat her. How he had something to work with. Now he had a chance.
A consistent stream of light in Zora's eyes finally woke her. She cracked them open a sliver, and saw that it was just past dawn. She was still lying on the floor of her room where she had passed out. Her back burned like fire, and her arm was a stab of pain, like a knife. She couldn't move it, remembered the sound of snapping bones.
What she wanted to do more than anything was crawl into her bed and sleep her life away. Or at least until her back healed somewhat, and her awful headache had left. But Zora knew that if she didn't show up with the slaves Krayn would beat her again.
With this painful knowledge, she struggled to rise. But after one movement of her head, she knew that was a mistake. The world began to spin around, and she lost control of her stomache. All that she had eaten for seemingly days was vomited up, rushing out of her mouth and onto the floor. When she was done, she weakly wiped her mouth and pulled her knees up, resting her head on them. She lost the mature look about her, and looked instead like the young girl she really was. This reminded her so much of another time.
A 13 year-old padawan walked slowly out of saber practice, her head throbbing. She meandered her way toward her room, but the halls were slowly spinning, and she couldn't make it. With a small moan of pain, she sank down against the wall, knees up, hot head resting on them. Her stomache was whirling, fighting her control. Finally, she could control it no longer, and she vomited up her lunch in a violent stream. She couldn't seem to stop. And then she felt cool hands holding her head, stroking her back, a soft voice murmering soothing words. Then she finally stopped, sank weakly back into what she had thought was the wall. But she found herself in her Master's arms. Sobbing, she gave in, for one of the few times in her life, and let her Master rock her like a child.
Snapping out of her reverie, Zora realized with surprise that her cheeks were wet. Furiously, she wiped away the tears. There was no one here to hold her, to comfort her. That was all in the past. Compassion was weakness, a weakness she wouldn't, couldn't give in to. She had to push on. And so she struggled to her feet, pulled off her non-existent, bloodsoaked shirt with one hand, and carefully put on a new one. Then she walked out of her room.
Anakin was also awoken by sunlight streaming into his eyes. He groaned. His head ached abominally, and he was exhausted. All of his Force-work last night had been in vain, yet it had still drained him. Anakin knew he could have escaped. He had feigned weariness - not too feigned, in reality - but then that girl had come. The girl who had captured him. Zora. The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He still couldn't figure out the mystery surrounding her. She was Force-sensitive, and had been trained to use it. But she was a slave trader! And she had put up the shield, the shield that broke his connection with the Force, with his life.
She must have either been trained at the Temple, and had left the Order, or she was a Sith.
Anakin shuddered. Neither choice was very good.
But she had seemed farmilliar, somehow. Not her face, which was covered in dirt. She probably hadn't bathed in years. Not her voice, or her manner. It was her eyes that seemed so farmilliar. He knew he had seen them before, but he couldn't remember where. Anakin closed his eyes and cleared his mind, as he had been trained to do for years now. He then thought only of her eyes, and let his mind wander.
It brought him to the training yards. Anakin could see that this was right after he had engaged in a fight with another Padawan.
They had both been insulted by each other, over what Anakin could not remember now, but neither had been able to control their anger, and had attacked each other. His Master, Obi-wan, had interveened, sending the other Padawan back to his Master and had spoken quite harshly with Anakin about controlling his anger. Then he had been sent back to his quarters.
The present Anakin wondered why his mind had brought him here. This had nothing to do with Zora. The other Padawan hadn't been her, Anakin was sure.
After several hours of awkward silence, Anakin had broken it.
"Master, have you always been perfect? Didn't you ever get in any fights?" Anakin had known as soon as the words were out of his mouth that they would be construed as rude, and he would be further punished. But Obi-wan had only laughed.
"No, I have not always been "perfect", Padawan. When I was young, younger than you, not even a Padawan yet, there was another apprentice who was the same age as me. His name was Bruck Chun. We were arch-enemies, constanly competing, trying to be the better one. We got in many fights, and for one of them I was temporarily sent out of the Order. Well, it wasn't supposed to be temporary, but then Qui-gon took me as his Padawan." Obi-wan smiled at Anakin. "There, you see? You're not the only one who isn't perfect." Then his eyes had misted over, as they did so often when he looked upon the past. "He turned to the Dark Side," he murmered, almost to himself. "And I killed him."
Anakin had been shocked. A Jedi who wasn't even a Padawan yet had turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-wan had killed him? There was so much about his Master that he didn't know.
But something had still bothered him. "Master, you weren't even a Padawan yet. You're actions could be excused. What about when you were a Padawan?"
Again Obi-wan had laughed. "No, I wasn't a perfect Padawan either. Although," he said with mock severity, "I was better than you. But there was a girl, two years younger than me, who was also a Padawan. We went on several missions together, and to put it lightly, we. clashed." Obi had gotten that faraway look again. "But even though we were so different, we finally saw through that and became friends. Our friendship was a strong one, based on trust." Obi-wan's voice had become sad and flat. "Then, only a year ago, she left the Jedi. She and her Master had an argument, a serious one, and she left the Order." Obi-wan had almost seemed self- accusing. "It still doesn't make sense. She was so devoted. I just don't understand how she could leave." He sighed.
"What. what was her name?" Anakin had been afraid to break his Master's reverie.
"What?" Obi-wan seemed to wake up. "Her name? Her name was-"
Siri. So that's who Zora was. A runaway Jedi. Anakin had looked her up in the databanks, read all the information on her. In some strange way she had intruiged him. And that's where he had seen her picture. She could disguise her appearance, her voice, but not her eyes. Now Anakin was glad he had looked her up. He could search his memory banks for information on her, use everything he had to defeat her. How he had something to work with. Now he had a chance.