MistiWhitesun: I have read through some of your fic (which is very good, by the way) but I'm not seeing the resemblance beyond the idea of people from the past being brought to life. It's possible I just haven't gotten that far yet. I'm not an expert on Siri, so writing her will require some research, but sheis too interesting to leave out.
The harsh clanging of the wake-up alarm sounded in the hall. Anakin was already awake and preparing for the day. He quickly gathered up his datapad, comlink, and lightsaber. The lightsaber had reappeared in his quarters at some time during the night. Apparently it had been retrieved somehow. Carefully he checked to see that it was undamaged by Force-scanning the components. Finding nothing broken or out of place, he ignited it and tried a simple exercise. It was made unusually difficult by the extra weight added by the armor.
Well, it was not that bad Anakin snorted. Right, he thought. If this was the same exact kind of armor Grandfather had worn, Anakin was in awe of his skill. Vader must have been lucky to have the ability to defeat an Ewok with a sharp stick, much less fully trained Jedi Knights.
Apparently, for himself blind rage was the only thing that even let him move fast enough to do any damage. Though he wanted to erase that memory, Anakin forced himself to let it come to the surface. He refused to forget again or to deny yesterday's eventsOtherwise, something similar might happen in the future.
Isn't this wonderful, he thought. Not only had he (though semi-accidentally) managed to turn into a serial murderer within the course of a few months, but it looked like divine retribution was being unusually punctual.
Delbin appeared to be anxious to avenge Ystas and Phelan's deaths. Anakin had never seen Delbin as the vengeful type before, but then he had never seen himself as any of the things he had recently become. He had feared that he had the potential, but had tried to believe his worries were irrational. His other friends—certainly former friends now, he reminded himself—might just avoid him. However, some of the other students were very opportunistic. One way or another, his dear, compassionate comrades-in–training were probably going to skewer and fillet him.
The policy of allowing trainees to carry sabers at all times had surprised him at first, but he had learned since that the instructors were competent enough at fighting that they had no worries for their own safety. As for any harm the students could and often did do to one another, they simply believed that elimination of the weaker fighters was a natural and positive result. That was why the opponent who had fallen to his death had been so eager and unafraid to attack. Injuring or killing another trainee gained the ambitious and merciless a higher status in the eyes of both the Dark Jedi and the majority of other students. The way some had reacted to his "success" had been sickening.
The whispers and long, strange looks had followed him all day. Anakin barely noticed. He was still reeling from the events of the day before. Mouse droids tripped him and walls bumped against him, but nothing seemed to demand his attention. In a more alert state of mind, he might have been puzzled that despite his running into every inanimate object within a meter of himself he had not collided with one living being.
One event that did strike him as being odd was when Master Drefan greeted him with a half smile. "Congratulations, Solo. It seems you're finally learning something, at least." Anakin couldn't remember doing anything particularly well. He tended to go out of his way to seem inept. It kept attention away from him.
It didn't become clear until later in the day, when he found himself surrounded by Tharsann Shapall and his groupies. Anakin drew his lightsaber, preparing to fight. Tharsann backed away slightly. "Whoa, whoa. Don't be so jittery, Sparky. We're not going to attack you." That didn't seem likely. Tharsann was one of the most bloodthirsty of the trainees. Anakin didn't care for the nickname "Sparky" either, and he was sure Tharsann knew that. He'd gotten that name because of his tendency to get electrocuted frequently, and didn't appreciate the reminder. Anyway, Taveiran was a better subject for that nickname. It was widely believed that he kept a tally of every round of Force lightning thrown in his general direction.
"You did well against Maelar. He was one of the better swordsmen. Of course, we all knew you had it in you to be powerful." Tharsann's jaws gaped with a carnivorous looking smile.
If he only knew, Anakin thought. He struggled to keep his revulsion under control. This must be why people had been acting so strangely all day.
"We could help you, you know. Show you how to develop your skills, if you're going to finally stop holding back."
It didn't seem wise to tell them outright that he wanted nothing to do with such an alliance. Anakin did not want to fight again, unsure if he was more afraid of winning or losing. "It was an accident. He just fell, it wasn't even intentional."
"I'm sure it was." Tharsann laughed. "That's a good story to keep his friends from coming after you. But I think we both know better. Just think about it. Sooner or later you'll have to break out of your little pathetic act." He turned and left, and his followers slunk away after him as they muttered among themselves.
The stream of memories faded at last. Anakin sighed. He'd probably be drifting in and out of the present all day now. The lack of concentration, at least, was not entirely his fault. The main problem was that he'd had almost no sleep the night before. Not only had Delbin tried to attack him again as he returned to the room where the rest were gathered, after which everyone apparently had nothing better to do than stare at him in silence for what felt like two hours straight. Not only that, but the machinery that was supposed to keep him alive and breathing while he slept seemed determined to short out and malfunction at every opportunity. Perhaps he had hooked it up to his life support incorrectly, but he suspected it was just the usual substandard equipment that complicated every aspect of life in the training center. He was just lucky he'd managed to sense the danger and wake up. Wonder how Palpatine thinks he's going to train a dead apprentice, he reflected morbidly. It appeared that someone had managed that with Palpatine. Anakin would have to find some way to use a Force trance rather than sleep, or find a way to fix the pile of junk. Either that or he could sign himself up for zombie apprentice courses.
Anakin trotted briskly down the hall. He wasn't sure where he was going, but moving at a fast pace helped clear the tiredness and confusion from his mind. As he rounded a corner, he saw an unfamiliar person headed towards him. The man appeared to be in his early twenties. His black hair and dark skin reminded him of the Jedi student from Naboo he had sometimes teased Tahiri about staring at several months ago. Of course, Anakin didn't take an interest in things like that. He and Tahiri were friends, nothing else. If he ever saw the Academy again, he wouldn't mind if Tahiri and Mr. Tall, Dark, And Handsome Non-Psycho With No Cybernetic Limbs Or Organs And In Fact Not A Scratch On Him were happily married with six kids. That was actually a complete lie, Anakin thought. In reality, he would probably go into a five-hundred-year sulk
The stranger gave him a small but warm smile. "Anakin Solo? We were unable to meet yesterday, because I was tending Wysha's leg. Again." He muttered, "I don't know how she manages to injure herself so often. Hazardous situations follow her like a pack of starving vornskrs, I swear." His shaggy head shook in disbelief. "Enough of that. My name is Rahl Melanc. I go by Melanc most of the time. Never liked the sound of Rahl. There's no fully-trained medic around here, but I was learning to be one before all of this so I do what I can. Don't look so suspicious. I've never done damage to any of my patients. Except for Wysha, that one time. It's supposed to be impossible for a human to be allergic to sliriff leaves. How was I to know she was the exception?"
They were walking down a side corridor Anakin hadn't noticed before. Melanc opened the last door and they entered a room filled with an organized jumble of flimsiplast sheets, datapads, and medical equipment. The equipment appeared to be old but in good repair, though Anakin had very little knowledge of how it was supposed to function. Nothing alerted the subconscious itch that sometimes affected him in the presence of malfunctioning devices.
"Stand still for a minute, all right? I need to run a scan to see how these recent injuries and cybernetic implants may be affecting you. Agwara will have my head if I let you go to practice as you are without knowing what things may impair your physical abilities. That right leg you seem to be favoring, for one."
Reflexively Anakin tried to change his position. It was generally a bad idea to reveal any weakness. He thought he'd done well at hiding the limp, but once he was standing still and listening to Melanc his weight had unconsciously shifted.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe I was trying not to walk on it a little because my foot fell asleep. You can let me go now, there's nothing that needs to be checked." Anakin felt guilty for putting a slight Force suggestion into his words, but this could be a matter of life and death.
"Mmm hmmm. Certainly. Solo, it looks to me like your foot is cybernetic. It can't be doing that—unless it's faulty, in which case it needs to be examined and fixed." Narrowing black eyes fixed stubbornly on Anakin.
"And why would you or anyone else need to know about this? It will just make it easier for you to turn me into Devaronian barbeque."
"That's already been attempted, if you hadn't noticed. And no one in this group is going to seriously harm you in any way. We're a little more focused on ensuring that we can all survive against the Jedi and other Imperials. I don't know what the last group you were in was like, but it sounds as if it was one of those high-and-mighty types that go through the vast majority of their members within a year. They don't seem to realize they are damaging their own cause."
"Their cause? Not yours?" He was uncertain he'd read Melanc's remark correctly.
Melanc laughed. "You're well aware that most of this lovely institution's residents are captured rather than recruited. Does it surprise you so much that I'm one of them?" He paused slightly. "And… the loyalties and purpose of this particular group are complicated."
"That would account for some of the strange behavior I've noticed here," Anakin responded cautiously.
"I suppose it might seem strange to you. Look, I'm not even supposed to tell you this much yet. Catraina is still not sure if you're a risk."
"Who is Catraina? Is she the one Kefa calls Raina? Because if she is, I thought she was an instructor. She seems to have a Sith title. Lady Agura, or something like that. That's what people were calling her yesterday, and you mentioned that name before. It would be unusual for her to be involved in whatever you seem to be implying. Is it something to do with a power struggle between her and someone else?"
"In a way. You'll understand in time, don't worry about it. Her name is Agwara, not Agura. Yes, she would be the one Kefa was referring to. I just was trying to explain, before I got sidetracked, that you have no need to worry for your safety. We do our best to ensure that everyone has the skills to protect themselves—but that doesn't mean striking at each other's weaknesses, it means learning to decrease or work around them."
"That sounds a bit like Jedi training methods."
Shrugging, Melanc answered, "I wouldn't know about that. Lady Agwara is a Dark Force user, and so are many of the others. They're more accepting of Light Siders than most I've seen, but they do expect you to pull your weight. The main focus is on training fighters who can hold their own against any kind of threat. How you get the power to do it is considered unimportant so long as you can. It's that vicious krathling, Cynaiad that you want to watch out for. She's not fully aware of any of this. If and when she finds out—well, that's when the poodoo will hit the ventilation unit."
Despite his confusion, Anakin was feeling reassured by the account of the circumstances in his new environment. It sounded as though he and the others who had been attempting to escape might have a chance here.
Melanc wryly suggested, "Since I've already managed to spill half of what I was not to tell you, would you please just let me run the scan so I can stop digging myself into a hole?"
"But you haven't gotten to the juicy parts yet. Like the spork-throwing incident, and the weekly strip sabaac game."
"How did you know about that? That's meant to be strictly confidential information." The false horror in the words contrasted with the amusement in Melanc's expression. A slight grin kept creeping into view.
"Connections, how else?" His own laughter sounded like that of a stranger, but it felt good.
Melanc fiddled with the scanner, checking to see if the settings were correct, and then scanned Anakin carefully. "This thing is old and outdated, but it should be able to show…" His voice trailed off. He looked as though he were trying to form words but his vocal chords had ceased to work. Anakin tried to duck around behind him to see what was showing, but Melanc quickly picked it up. "Stay right here," he ordered and left the room with a purposeful stride.
Though he intended to stay put, Anakin was overcome by his curiosity when a disturbance began filtering through the Force, and the walls. Someone was very displeased by something, and was voicing their discontent at full volume. He had a feeling it had to do with what Melanc had seen on the scan.
He tracked the commotion into a corridor on the other side of the main room from the ones he had already seen. The sound was coming from an opened door. Anakin stayed at the other end of the hall, listening and hoping he could not be heard.
"Yes, Master. I have issues. I have an issue with the fact that one of the new students is a walking demolition device, and you knew. And didn't tell me!"
The familiar crackling sound of Force lightning filled the air, and Anakin winced in sympathy. Another voice began snarling, but too quietly for him to make out what was said.
Anakin was reminded that he probably wasn't supposed to have heard the argument when Lady Agwara came into the hall from the opened door, followed by another black-robed figure. This might be Cynaiadhe decided. He turned to leave, but had been spotted.
"What do we have here? An eavesdropper. Interesting." The unknown Dark Jedi drifted towards him. Her hair, face, and eyes appeared unnaturally colorless. Although she was pale, she didn't glow in the shadowy light of the hall. It was more as if the life had been leached from her, leaving only a washed out and slightly grayish shadow. The calculating expression on her face reminded Anakin of a scavenger sizing up a pile of bones that just might have a bit of skin and fur left on it.
She turned suddenly and spoke to Agwara. "You will take care of this problem. I want to hear nothing more about it."
"Of course, Master." Agwara nodded respectfully. If not for her slightly singed appearance, Anakin would have had difficulty believing the two had violently disagreed only moments before.
Cynaiad glided away, apparently satisfied. The other Dark Jedi turned to Anakin. "You were told not to leave the medcenter. Only myself and Cynaiad are to be obeyed over Melanc. This probably was not known to you, so I will let it slide this time."
"Why Melanc? Is he—?"
She gestured in the negative. "Melanc has no formal status, but he is the only medical expert of any kind that we have and I've found it saves hassle and injury to ensure that his orders are enforced." Agwara eyed him with disapproval. "It would be best if you stayed out of this area. My Master and I have our quarters here, and neither of us appreciates being disturbed."
Anakin had no problems with avoiding it, in that case. Lady Cynaiad reminded him unpleasantly of Palpatine, and Agwara carried an aura of danger and mistrust towards him. The mistrust had only increased now that he had been revealed as a threat, though an unwilling one.
Agwara led him back to the room Melanc had brought him to earlier. Melanc was intently studying something on a datapad.
"Have you found anything yet?"
"Some. It will take time to organize it."
Anakin asked,"What are you looking for?"
Agwara looked at him calmly. "We're looking for a way to disarm the explosives someone generously installed in you," she said. She paused. "You don't seem surprised by that."
"Not really. I thought I'd found some before."
"Then why didn't you tell anyone?" Melanc sounded almost insulted. "It could have saved a bit of trouble, you know."
"What was I going to say? "Hi, I'm Anakin. Don't touch the left elbow; it might blow up." You wouldn't have even believed it."
"You'd be surprised at what we'll believe," Melanc said.
As he watched Melanc enter information while digging through the clutter around him, Anakin couldn't help wondering how these people thought they could fix this problem. Aside from tossing him out the nearest window—if there even were any windows to the outside around here.
"So where exactly are you going to get the equipment to do this? Or even the information on how to do it?"
"The same way we do everything else here," Agwara replied.
Melanc chuckled. "She means that we will use what is available here. If what is available is not what we need, then we will just have to beg, borrow, and steal from elsewhere."