Chapter Seven-Of Dreams and Droids
Juhani stood watching silently as the small freighter lifted ungainly off the landing pad, its small metal feet slowly retracting up into the ships body. It wobbled slightly as it hovered into the azure sky, its engines whining loudly and sending up swirls of dust. The ship pointed its nose upwards, and with a shrill whine it sped into the sky, a small dot that disappeared into nothingness.
Juhani shook her head sadly, what they are doing is wrong. I only hope that their actions to do not cause repercussions that the Academy and its students would feel. She reigned in her thoughts as she became aware that she was no longer alone.
"Where are they going, Master Juhani?" a voice queried at her side.
Juhani glanced around, and saw a young blue skinned Twi'lek gazing up at the sky, a faraway look shining brightly in her eyes.
"They have gone to follow Revan and the Exile, Mission," she replied.
"Ah, Revan," Mission answered, "I would love to see her again. It's been such a long time."
Juhani looked on the young Twi'lek with irritation, "The journey that they take is not an easy one. It is not a case of looking up old acquaintances. They will meet great danger on their journeys, I fear."
"I wish that I could have gone with Revan," Mission replied vehemently, "It's not fair that I was left here…"
"Mission," Juhani replied gently, "Revan left you here in my care. She wished that you be instructed in the ways of the Order. Do you not think that it would please her greatly, if she returned and saw how you have grown up, well on the path to becoming a Jedi?"
Mission sighed loudly, "I guess so, Master Juhani. It's just that she was like a mother to me, she was there for me whenever I needed her, and I…I miss her a lot," she weeped.
Juhani reached out a hand and taking Mission by the shoulder, she turned her around to face her. "I think that Revan would be proud of you, Mission," she said smiling, "Now come, you have your lessons to attend to."
As they walked down into the sublevels, Mission glanced back over her shoulder in the direction that the small ship had taken, and smiled.
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The freighter sped through the blackness of space, stars streaking past the small cockpit window in the blink of an eye.
"Well, doesn't this remind you of old times?" Atton remarked as he swivelled around in the pilots chair aboard the Ebon Hawk.
"Yeah, but hopefully without the bad flying, or…" Mira replied from the co-pilots seat, wincing, "the crash landings."
"Hey! I object to that!" Atton complained in a loud voice "I'm a good pilot!"
Mira laughed, "We will see about that!"
"Yeah, well I've set the ship on auto pilot," he replied frowning at her slightly, "may as well grab some rest while we can."
He eased himself out of the chair, and walked down the rounded tunnels towards the port dormitory. He suddenly felt very tired and desperately wanted to get some sleep, now that they were on their way to finding the Exile.
"Breep doot boop bree booooop" a mechanical beeping sounded to his left.
"Hey, out of my way, you small trash can," Atton replied to the small astromech droid
"Dwooo oooooo," the droid answered him briefly as it whirred past, it's small mechanical arm at the ready. T3-M4 remembered all to well how Atton had flown the ship in the past.
Atton watched the astromech droid whirr down the corridor, a small smile on his lips. For all his bravado, he was actually quite fond of the droid, and he liked to tease it much to the annoyance of his companions-past and present. He smiled ruefully at the memory of Jennra scolding him for being mean to T3, she had had a great attachment to the small droid, and it had saved their lives once, or was it twice, Atton thought to himself, hell, who's counting?
He walked in to the small dormitory block, and made for the nearest bunk. He sat down heavily on the bed, tugging his jacket off. He sat there with it half folded in his lap, and yawning widely he rubbed at his eyes.
"Feeling tired, Atton," he remarked to himself. He stretched out his full length on the mattress, letting his jacket slide off the bed to the floor, where it lay in an untidy heap. He yawned deeply again, and closed his eyes.
He awoke to find himself in a large rounded ill lit room. Dirt lay thickly upon the floor, and glancing down he noticed scuff and heel marks embedded deeply into the ground, as if something or someone had been dragged from there. He looked around the gloomy stone walls, and was surprised to see that there was no visible entrance that he could see to the room.
Lying in the middle of the dusty floor, he saw the prone figure of a brown robed woman, her dark hair splayed out like an arc about her face, which was half covered by the crook of one arm.
"Jennra?" he asked as he approached the figure. He knelt down by her, feeling a conflict of emotions surge through him. He reached out a hand and touched her arm.
She groaned softly, and he felt relief flood through him. Just as he was about to turn her to face him, he became aware of a low crackling sound. He stood up abruptly, staring with horror at the lines of blue sparking energy that suddenly ran down the walls, reaching tentative fingers to caress the hard floor. The energy lines grew in brightness and intensity, creeping ever closer to where the woman lay.
"No," Atton shouted, "you will not have her!"
He jumped in surprise as wild power crackled around him, and he hopped from foot to foot, trying to avoid the writhing lines. The feel of dark energy filled the room and his senses. He felt choked and nauseous, and fighting down bile, he turned back towards where the woman lay.
"Jennra, you must wake up," he demanded, "Just listen to me. Wake up," he grabbed at her arm, "come on, help me please," he muttered angrily, as he struggled to pull the woman to a sitting position.
Blue energy snaked across at him, and he cried out aloud as he felt it tentatively touch him. Images of hate and lust filled his mind, of things that he had done in his tortured past, things that he had tried to forget.
Angrily, he shook the woman, trying to wake her from her stupor. Her head lolled lifelessly, and in desperation, he scooped her up into his arms.
"Jennra!" he hissed at her angrily, "damn it, wake up will you?"
He carried her to the far wall, furthest away from the writhing mass of dark power that now lay coiled in the centre of the room. He propped her up against the cold stonework, and with shaking hands, he smoothed her dark hair away from her face.
Steely blue eyes regarded him coldly, "You killed me," the woman whispered hatefully, "I loved you, yet you killed me."
Stricken, he glanced down at her bare neck, and saw the mottled blue and purple bruising that lay there like a silent accusation, almost like finger prints.
"You…you are not Jennra!" he said in fear, "you are not her…you are something else!"
"Do you not remember me, Atton? My rescuer, my love, my murderer…"
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"Atton. Atton! Wake up!"
He struggled against the strong hands that held him down.
"Atton, you have been dreaming."
He opened his eyes slowly and glanced up fearfully. Warm blue eyes looked down at him with concern.
"Wh…what happened?" he asked trembling.
"I was hoping that you could tell me," Mical replied gently, "You have had a bad dream."
Atton frowned at Mical, and sat upright, shivering as the cool air hit his sweating body.
"You have been shouting in your sleep," Mical explained quietly, "we were concerned."
Atton grabbed his jacket from off the floor, and tugged it on, "Yeah, well I'm fine now," he grumbled, "thanks for the concern, but it's not needed."
Mical stood up sighing deeply, no matter how hard I try, he always seems to regard me with open hostility, "I was only trying to help…"
"Yeah, well if I need someone useless, then I'll be sure to give you a call," he retorted as he stood up on shaky legs.
Mical looked at him and shrugged, "I will be in the medlab, if you do need me, Atton."
"Sure, I'll remember that."
Atton watched as the tall blonde Jedi stalked out of the room, damn him, and damn his concern, he thought angrily.
He moaned as he felt his clothing stick to him through the warmth of his jacket, I feel disgusting, better go clean up.
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"Is he alright?" Visas asked Mical as he walked into the medlab.
"He will survive," he replied wearily, "Yet still he retains his anger towards me. I do not know what it is that I have done that causes him so much pain."
"It is because of the Exile," she explained gently, "you know this, but you refuse to see it. Why?"
Mical shook his head, "I do not know. I had hoped that after all this time that he had forgiven me. I cannot help how I feel…or how she felt towards me. If I could ease his pain, then I would in an instance."
"There is nothing that you could do, unless that is to un-write what has already been written. Do not feel bad, Mical. It is his problem alone."
He looked at her, and smiled ruefully, "I would not change what happened, no matter of the consequence," he replied sadly.
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Mira stood staring inquisitively at the rusted red HK-47 assassin droid that stood silently in the storage compartment of the Ebon Hawk.
"How the frak did Jennra activate this thing?" she swore out loud.
She fumbled around at the back of the tall droid with a hydro-spanner, "Hell," she cursed.
A low whine came from the droid, and it stood upright from its drooping position. Red eyes lit up gleefully.
"Confused statement: Where am I?" he enquired in a mechanical voice.
"Aboard the Ebon Hawk," Mira replied, "you had been deactivated…somehow."
"Query: Where is my master?"
Mira stood in front of the droid, "She has gone to unknown space, we are looking for her…"
"Incredulous reply: But you are a meat bag. How can you hope to find my master?"
"Never mind that. Are you alright?"
"Cajoling answer: Why, but of course, I have never felt better. Apart from the many blaster shots that my body work has seemingly suffered, my functions seems to be operating on minimal capacity."
"But at least you are working…"
"Statement: I do not remember who de-activated me. Do you?"
Mira laughed, "Sorry, no help there. I've no idea. Maybe you could…"
A soft whirring sound from beyond the open doorway interrupted Mira. She glanced around to see the small astromech droid wheel past.
"Hey, T3!" she called out.
T3 twirled in the corridor, and turned to face her, "Breed broooo breeep?" he enquired.
"Do you know who deactivated HK-47? Maybe you have some thing stored in your memory logs?"
T3 swivelled his head, the blue circular light on the front of his head flashing, "Dwoooooooo ooooooooo," he cried in alarm, watching the HK unit wearily. He scurried away quickly, bumping into Atton, who was padding up the corridor bare foot, rubbing at his damp chest with a towel, "Hey, watch where you're going!" he growled at the droid. He looked across at Mira, who was unashamedly ogling his naked torso. "And you, keep those eyes up," he said dryly.
Mira flushed slightly, "I have re-activated the HK unit," she replied, trying to change the subject.
"Oh what? Why did you do that?" he complained, "Now we have to put up with its sarcasm and constant moaning."
"Well, it beats sitting here twiddling our thumbs, waiting for something to happen…besides, we could need him," she said walking out the room. She grabbed his wrist, "So, what's this I hear, having more dreams?" she asked him, her face full of concern. "Is it like before? You know, the ones you told me about on Dantooine?"
Atton glanced away from her, "Yeah, but they're different somehow. Maybe it's because we are on the way to finding her, I don't know," he shrugged, "Whatever it is, I don't want to talk about it. Got it?"
Mira nodded her head, "Okay, but if you want to talk, Atton-I'm a very good listener." She strode across the empty room to the garage.
Atton watched the red headed woman walk away, admiring her lithe frame and the cat like grace with which she walked. He remembered the fun times that they had had, journeying together in the Ebon Hawk after the final destruction of Malachor V. They had all thought that the troubles had ended there, on that day. Jennra had defeated Darth Sion in the Trayus Academy on Malachor V, and had then gone on, to confront and best Kreia. They had all thought that Jennra had perished, but it had been Mira whom had insisted that they look for her, despite the Ebon Hawk being in a somewhat damaged condition.
They had found Jennra collapsed on her knees, the whole structure of the academy breaking up around her. He had piloted the ship to the best of his abilities that day, and it was his skill that had made it possible to fly the ship so close as to be able to rescue her.
Later, they had all been shocked to discover that the old woman that had travelled with them, was in fact Darth Traya, none more so than Jennra herself, whom after their confrontation seemed changed somehow. She had become withdrawn from them, even to a degree from Mical. She had talked about what had occurred there, but when it came that they had asked what Trayas' final words were, she would remain silent. She never talked of it again.
Atton held the damp towel loosely in one hand. His hopes of a future with Jennra had died that day. Seeing her turn to Mical, and not him had crushed his heart. The time that it took for them to travel back from the remnants of Malachor V, Jennra and Mical were never apart. He hadn't been very surprised when she had told him that she was going to Dantooine, to stay with Mical, and help him set up the new Jedi Order. Six months later, she had gone, and Atton felt ashamed that he had taken great pleasure in the younger mans pain. Seeing him hurt brought immense satisfaction, and he still felt that now, much to his chagrin.
But, now there was the question of his dream and what it meant. He had not thought of her in a long time. He breathed her name silently, "Aliana," and shuddered at the feel of the word on his tongue. "What am I going to do?" he asked himself, knowing that he did not have the answer to his own question.