PERFECT STRANGERS: PART IX
Around 1000, Admiral Lockhart stood behind Commander Taurus on the bridge as he searched for Brock. Captain Mycenae entered and approached her, his steps heavier than usual. Lockhart did not turn, for the presence she sensed was not one she wished to address.
Nicolas approached Tristan with as little emotion as possible. "Admiral, may I have a word with you?" he asked quietly.
"I'm busy at the moment, Captain."
"This will only take a second." he continued. "It is of utmost importance."
Taurus turned to Lockhart. "It's okay, Admiral. I can handle the rest of this myself."
Caught, Tristan turned and straightened to face the Captain. Nicolas felt terrible, but was doing a fine job of hiding it. He gestured toward the exit door and without a word, Tristan stormed ahead of him into the empty hallway.
"Nicolas," she began, spinning to face him. "I do not have time for this now. We have business to tend to and our minor personal matters cannot interfere with things of such grand importance."
"Bull shavit." Nicolas growled. "I demand an explanation from you, Tristan--"
Tristan's jaw dropped. "Excuse me!"
"--and we will not leave this corridor until you give me one."
Tristan's eyes widened at the Captain's tone. "How dare you speak to me with such disrespect."
"How dare you refuse to acknowledge my existence." he shot back.
Suddenly, Nicolas felt a hint of pressure on his throat. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. "She wouldn't!" he thought. But she certainly would, and it made him angry. He shook his head, holding her glare.
"Is there no end?" he asked, standing his ground against the pain. She didn't answer.
"There isn't! You would kill me, wouldn't you? Your one true ally and confidant?" The Admiral looked nervous, her plan wasn't working. Nicolas cleared his throat as best he could.
"Never in my life have I been afraid of you, Tristan." he continued. "Not since the day you arrived. So if you think that I am afraid to confront you now, even die by your hand-- then you are gravely mistaken."
Tristan was shocked. Unsure of what to say, she dropped her grip on Nicolas and after a moment, turned to leave.
Nicolas smiled wryly behind her. A victory at last. "So, there is a shred of humanity left in you." he mumbled harshly.
Tristan halted. "Captain, you are on dangerous ground."
"I can understand not mixing business and pleasure," he continued, disregarding her warning. "But this is cruelty! I have served you seven years, Admiral. I deserve to hear the truth--"
"The truth?" she growled, interrupting him. "The truth is, that people make mistakes every day, Nicolas. Mistakes that are learned from and then forgotten."
Nicolas stood, silent and unmoving.
"Now, I beseech you," Tristan continued. "Do just that and go your own way before you make me do something I'm going to regret."
"It seems I already have--" he countered.
Tristan glared at him, out of peaceful ideas. "What do you want from me, Nicolas?" she demanded icily.
"I want you, Tristan." He whispered fervently, grabbing her shoulders. "Don't you understand that? I've always wanted you-- and I've wasted seven years in uncertainty, waiting for some kind of break. I finally caught one-- and so far it's been the worst thing that could have happened."
"You're right, Mycenae." she answered slowly. "It is the worst thing that could have happened. Last night-- was wrong. I was intoxicated. I was so out of it, I didn't even know what was happening! You could've been anyone." The Captain's heart slowed and Tristan jerked out of his grasp.
"I never meant for anything to happen between us, Nicolas, which is why you and I both have to forget everything. We will never be more than crewmates. So though I value your loyalty, I will have no alliances, not with you or anyone else. Hope you enjoyed your one night stand. Good day, Captain."
As she backed away from him, Nicolas sank into frozen despair. His one hope in a dark and solitary universe had been shattered. He felt his heart shudder and die in his chest. The eerie flatline echoed in his ears and the sound grew further and further away as she disappeared from his presence. The stone in his chest grew still and his eyes flashed with anger. Silently, he turned and stormed down the hall surrounded by a dark cloud of bitterness.
"Good day indeed, Tristan Lockhart. Enjoy it, for it will be your last."
(Background: English Dances Mvt. III: Mesto)
In the infirmary, the droids tended to the intruder while Cilghal took care of Tenel and Mara looked after Jaina. Mara didn't know what to say to her niece. Nothing she said could improve the situation. But Jaina didn't mind the silence; she wasn't ready to say anything to anyone. She just sat upright, not speaking, not crying, not moving. Her worst physical injury had been the laser blast to her shoulder, but everything else was relatively minor. There had been no major damage to her windpipe and the bruises would heal soon. However, her emotional injuries were far more severe, and seemingly irreparable.
All things considered, Tenel wasn't hurt terribly either. She had regained consciousness and Cilghal had treated the blast to her side. The worst she had suffered was the shot to her leg. It had severed tendons in her knee, disabling her ability to walk. But using the Force and some old fashioned surgery, Cilghal repaired Tenel's leg and assured her that she would be on her feet in a few days.
Following orders from Cilghal, the medic droids had drugged the attacker and begun analyzing him, running various tests. Then they had left him lying on the exam table across the clinic. Mara went to him after she was done with Jaina and cleaned the blood from his face. Jaina had put up a valiant fight and there was damage to show for it. Mara attempted to be gentle, but honestly she would've cared less if he was dead, much less injured.
Jaina watched her aunt finish with her assailant and return to her husband. Jacen sat beside Tenel, holding her hand and whispering to her, while Anakin remained outside. Luke cursed softly under his breath at the answering service that had picked up when he tried to contact Han and Leia. Cilghal looked over the tests and the droids were also hovering over Tenel. No one was paying attention to her for the time being.
Ignoring every pain in her body, she slid off the bed and made her way quickly to the other end of the clinic, where he laid. That end of the clinic was a little dark, but she could still see relatively well. She approached the table cautiously, fears playing with her mind that he would jump up and grab her again. She looked down at him and traced his face with her finger. She ran her hand across his hair, which she could now see was unmistakably dark blonde, and then quickly jerked back. With a shudder, she covered her mouth with her hands. Everything was exactly the same.
But she'd seen and heard entirely too much about clones and cyborgs to fall for such a trick. Something had to be different. What did Brock have--
The scar. The scar from the glass bottle.
Without thinking, Jaina began to tear his tunic off. The black buttons popped off individually as she ripped the fabric down from his shoulder.
Only then did Luke, Mara and Cilghal notice Jaina. "Jaina!" Luke shouted, dropping the comm. All three sprinted over and Luke used the Force to seize Jaina before he got to her.
But Jaina would not be stopped. She blocked her uncle's power with her own and continued to frantically destroy the tunic. When Luke came up behind her and grabbed her, Jaina elbowed him hard in the stomach and he reeled back.
"Wait," Mara said quietly. "I don't think she's--"
Just as she spoke, Jaina stopped. She put her hand on his chest and leaned across his body. About seven inches long, a thin, curved, scar ran across his left shoulder.
Brock's left shoulder.
Jaina pressed her cheek against Brock's bare chest and listened for a moment. Slowly and steadily, his heart was still beating; a dull echo in a frigid tomb of emptiness. Without another word, Jaina crumbled to her knees and burst into agonizing sobs.
Her nightmare had come true.
END PART NINE