Chapter 3
They arrived in the Taanab system shortly after waking. Tudraka was up before the others; he had slept fitfully, though his dreams had already faded beyond recollection, a forbidding echo lingering in the back of his mind. Nemriva found him in the cockpit, sipping caf.
"Well, where do we go?" she asked, sipping on her own steaming cup, and looking down at the green orb of Taanab below.
"You're asking me?" Tudraka replied.
"Yes. That's the whole reason you're here." she gestured through the viewport, "Reach out with your feelings. Can you sense her?"
Tudraka did as he was told, and as he did he felt the last of the night's horrors drop from his shoulders. The Force opened up before his soul like a balm. He could feel the planet below him, a beacon of life in the darkness, a ball of light which soothed through its very presence in the cold, void blackness of space. But there was no sign of his Master.
"No. I can't feel her anywhere."
Nemriva frowned.
"Well, we're still a ways out." She turned to leave, "Take us down."
"Where?" Tudraka blinked. "It's a big planet."
Nemriva paused, and looked back over her shoulder in the cockpit door.
"You knew Master Ch'kaan the best of anyone right? Take us down wherever you think she would land. The Force will guide you."
"And if it doesn't?"
Nemriva smiled, the first full smile Tudraka had seen on her face, the first one to show her teeth; it turned her into a truly beautiful woman.
"I think we both know that the Force always guides us. I'll get the team ready for touchdown. Meet us in the cargo bay when you're finished."
She left before Tudraka could respond. The Chiss sighed, and then turned back to survey the green jewel below him. He folded his arms across his chest, but took a deep breath and tried to open his mind. It really was quite the sight, a pristine emerald ball floating against a perfect velvet black backdrop. He found his eyes tracing along the terrain features that he could see from orbit. Tudraka followed the coastline at first, finding its course almost naturally, but then he spotted the dark glimmer of a river. It was close to the dawn-line, and the water glimmered in the early morning light, even from orbit, a string of glittering jewels marking the boundary between light and dark. He sat down behind the ship's controls, and punched in entry coordinates.
The Perlemian Wanderer came in through the atmosphere in a sheet of fire, and then turned low over a forest that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. He brought the vessel to the point where he had seen the river cut through the trees, keeping the thin ribbon of water to his port side, chasing the retreating line of darkness west as the sun rose behind them. The rows of trees passed beneath them like a waving carpet of green, and then Tudraka spotted a break in the canopy. It was a large, spacious, flower filled meadow that was several hundred meters across, bounded on all sides by the forest. Tudraka turned the controls, and took The Wanderer down to the far western edge. The vessel dropped, settling down onto the earth, the landing gear sinking into the soft soil. The cargo ramp opened facing east, looking into the rising sun.
Tudraka went through the shutdown procedure as soon as he felt the thunk of the landing gear compressing the ground beneath them, then he turned, and headed for the cargo bay. Sarlacc Team was ready by the time he got there, lined up in two short columns on either side of the cargo ramp, decked in shining white armor adorned with blue markings. He could not see their faces through their plasteel helmets, but Tudraka could pick out their frames with ease. Nemriva stood by the exit with them, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed. Her face was all business, and to Tudraka she felt like a blank slate in the Force, the model Jedi Knight, utterly in control of himself, completely within the present moment. Tudraka's own stomach was threatening to flutter, but he took a breath, banishing his emotions into a place deep inside of him.
"What's the plan?" Castor asked as Tudraka approached, his voice distorted by his helmet's external comms.
"Standard patrol formation, Commander. I didn't feel any lifeforms on the planet at all."
Tudraka nodded. "Scanners say the same. There's no one here."
Castor gave a grunt. "What are we looking for?"
"We're not sure. Let's see what's waiting outside." Nemriva said.
"Typical Jedi operation then?"
The Commander didn't wait for a response. He turned back to his team, and called them together. He gave them the brief, and then Castor's voice came over his helmet's radio, chirping out of a communicator attached to Nemriva's belt..
"Sarlacc ready." Castor nodded to the Jedi.
Nemriva nodded back, and in an instant the commandos were down the ramp, Horliir first. The Jedi soon followed, and the group stepped from the ship and onto the surface of Taanab. Most of the team was set up in a semicircle around the loading ramp, but Horliir was missing. A few moments passed before the canid finally appeared again, rising up from all fours among the chest high grass, his rifle slung over his back. He approached Castor, and must have said something to him over the team's internal comms; Tudraka heard nothing. The Commander turned to the Jedi.
"Horliir says he's picked up faint scent trails towards the other end of the clearing. He couldn't be sure what made them, but we should start there."
Nemriva nodded to Castor, who motioned to his team. The group set off at a walk, patrolling in the direction Tudraka had suggested. Horliir took the lead, off to the left and ahead by fifteen meters, his head constantly scanning from side to side. Rienna followed, spaced out and to his right, occasionally turning around to check their six. Lorb came behind her, offset to the left again; the big Houk hefted a blaster cannon that had to be the size of Tudraka. Behind Lorb, and back on the right side of the column, came Castor, his position affording him the ability to react to any unfolding situation. The two Jedi brought up the rear, ambling along like they were on a pleasant walk in the park. The soldiers kept their weapons at the ready as the staggered column pushed on.
The tall grass tugged at Tudraka's robes. The smell of pollen assaulted his nostrils, and a thin mist began to form as the sun rose higher above the horizon, its heat clashing against the fading chill of night. It was quiet in a way he had not expected. No birds chirped, no bugs buzzed. There was only the sound of the wind playing through the trees, or sighing through the grass. He could just make out the babble of the river he had spotted from orbit in the background, somewhere far off to their left. The sky matched Tudraka's azure skin; there wasn't a cloud as far as the eye could see. Suddenly, Tudraka began to frown, a feeling of unease creeping over him despite the beauty of the day.
"What is it?" Nemriva asked when she noticed the corners of his mouth turning down.
"I...I don't know," Tudraka replied, "It's the strangest thing. I feel...I don't know. It's so familiar."
"Ch'Kaan?"
"No, I can't place it. It doesn't feel good. I think we're getting closer."
Nemriva nodded, and began to scan the treeline around them. Tudraka followed suit. He could see nothing but the forest–and the shadows that were birthed there beneath the canopy as the dawn sun rose higher–but he could feel something. It was maddening, just beyond the edges of his memory, like a word stuck to the tip of his tongue. The feeling got worse as they crossed the field, and soon Tudraka was sure something was very wrong. There was a large boulder near the opposite end of the clearing, and Sarlacc Team made for it. The feeling of dread grew and grew inside Tudraka's stomach. Sweat broke out along his blue brow. Nemriva seemed to notice; she grabbed Tudraka's shoulder. He felt her reaching out in the Force to steady him, and he gave her a small, grateful smile in return.
"Halt." It was Horliir, on point at the head of the column. "I see her."
Tudraka's stomach leapt out of his control. The group froze, each of them scanning ahead. The boulder was still several meters distant; Tudraka couldn't see a thing from this far out. Horliir's sharp Shistavanen eyesight must have picked out details too subtle for the rest of them.
"Is she alright?" Nemriva asked, taking the comm from her belt.
"We better get up there, ma'am," the reply came back.
Castor gave a hand signal, and Sarlacc Team broke into a trot. Tudraka moved to follow, but Nemriva held up an arm, blocking his way.
"Give them a minute to do their job," she said.
The Chiss did not reply. His anxiety flared up inside him; he had to know if Ch'kaan was okay. She had been the one who had rescued him from the arena on Geonosis, had been the only one who stood by him when the Jedi Council tried to claim he was too old to be taken in for training, too filled with anger and pain. She had taught him the ways of the Jedi, in many ways, she had raised him. To stand still while she could possibly be in trouble burned his soul. Sarlacc finally arrived at the boulder, and then pushed past. The four of them fanned out to provide a three hundred and sixty degree security ring.
"Okay, let's move," Nemriva said.
The Jedi took off at a jog. Tudraka felt an abyss form in his stomach as they approached. They passed behind the security screen their team had set, and he noticed a small, purple object sitting on top of the boulder. He saw it was Ch'kaan's head as they drew closer; she was still wearing her purple turban. Her eyes had been gouged out, and her tongue lolled between frozen lips. Tudraka froze, his face twisting into a grimace, and then a snarl. Nemriva reached out, and placed a hand on his shoulder again.
"Easy, Padawan, don't let-"
Tudraka dropped to his knees, letting out a scream that split the silence of the meadow. He fell quiet, staring at what was left of the slain Jedi Master, of the woman he had once thought of as his mother. Then he screamed again, the grass rippling into a turmoil as the Force raged around him. Sarlacc Team shifted uneasy in their positions Tudraka stood as the sound of torment finally died in his throat, the grass waving itself back to calm. He staggered to the boulder with tears streaming from his blazing red eyes. Tudraka reached up, and took his Master's head down from off the rock, cradling it in his arms like a precious babble.
His eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards. Tudraka found himself standing somewhere else, on a flat plane of glass that stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions.
"Tudraka! You must listen to me. There is not much time."
Tudraka spun around, and was greeted by the face of Master Ch'kaan, floating in the air before him. Her face looked stiff, like a hologram whose power cell was fading.
"Master! What is this?"
"Soon I will rejoin the Living Force; a Sith Lord has found me. The pain is immense. I must be quick."
Tudraka's face fell as he realized it was not her; only a memory, an echo.
"I have been slain by one more powerful than any I have faced before. The WatchNet is at risk. I tried to stop him, apprentice. I truly did. But he is tearing the secret of the others from my mind even now. You must travel to Nar Shadda, my friend. Find Master Liv. You must warn him, before it is too late. Find him. This Sith, what he has planned, it cannot come to pass! He must not find it! You must–!"
Tudraka felt a great burst of pain through his forehead, and then the vision ended as quickly as it began. He blinked, and found himself back in the clearing, surrounded by the others, his back in the grass with the blue sky looking down above him. Nemriva was at his side, Sarlacc Team holding their positions. He noticed that Ch'kaan's body was lying nearby, tossed to the side like a piece of garbage.
"Can you hear me, Padawan! Snap out of it!"
Nemriva snapped her fingers in front of Tudraka's face. He shook his head, and rose slowly to his feet. Then stepped across the clearing. Tudraka bent down, and picked up Ch'kaan's small, inert form. She was so stiff, but he held her close, turning back towards the Wanderer.
"I saw her, Nemriva. She spoke to me, before she died. We have to contact the Council. Now."
"This is extremely concerning, Padawan. The Sith Empire has denied any such attack in official channels, but we all know how little that means." Worry was etched across Master Gnost-dural's brow even through the hologram. "What do you make of this, Nemriva?"
Tudraka turned towards his assigned superior. They were alone, given sole access to the ship's communication room; Sarlacc Team was elsewhere, probably training in the hangar. Nemriva stood with her arms crossed across her chest, a frown chiseling deep channels across her brow, and marring her beautiful visage.
"I cannot say, Masters. This vision did not come to me." Nemriva's steel colored eyes turn towards Tudraka. "I have learned one thing in my travels: trust the Force. The Padawan; he is at the heart of this. I think we should ask for his opinion."
Tudraka's heart leapt in his chest. His opinion? What good could he add? What information could he have seen that these great Jedi could have possibly failed to glean?
"M-me?"
"I concur; tell us, Padawan. What are your feelingssss on the matter?" Master Nobil cut in, the hologram turning his hissed S's into static.
Tudraka gulped, and clamped down on the butterflies that fluttered through his stomach. He was nervous, as ever, to stand before the Council, and his emotions were raw after finding his Master's body. He couldn't quite believe she was dead, the feeling of dissonance between what he knew to be true and what his heart wanted sending his thoughts into turmoil. Tudraka knew he should have a better hold on such things, but that only made him feel shame, embarrassment at his lack of discipline. These things mixed with his grief, anger, and denial, which in turn caused his emotions to continue their spiral.
"I–"
"This is pointless." Master Kaedan cut in. "I sense the conflict within him. He has a desire for revenge."
"No!" Tudraka insisted, his voice cracking. "That's not true!"
But was it? He could feel the ocean roiling within him, the anger and shock at what they had found, his mind unable to tear itself away from memories of Ch'kaan, her lessons, their experiences together. These happy moments were now intercut with the image of her head staring eyeless from atop a rock. Tudraka did want revenge, deep down. Some primal part of him thought finding Ch'kaan's killer would banish the image of her death forever.
"True or not, we must proceed. The WatchNet stands under threat, and there is no one else in position to respond." Master Gnost-dural's modulated voice boomed out. "Nemriva, you must proceed to Nar Shadda, and it will be on you to ensure the Padawan has the proper guidance. Find Master Liv. Stop this Sith Lord, and defend the sanctity of our defenses. The Republic will be vulnerable should the Net fall."
Nemriva turned her gaze on Tudraka, and he felt his face burn as he blushed blue. Her steel eyes cut straight to his soul.
"I will not fail you, Masters." Tudraka said, the words tumbling from his mouth.
He felt the need to prove them wrong about his desire for revenge. The urge to live up to the standards of the Jedi swelled within his chest, drowning out his fear, his anger. He wanted to be a Jedi Knight more than anything, to show the Council–to show Ch'kaan–that he was ready to carry the mantle.
"We will find Master Liv, and stop this threat."
"Bold words from the Padawan." Master Kaedan's voice cut like durasteel, his hologram giving them a flat resonance.
"We will set course immediately, Masters." Nemriva answered.
She offered a stiff bow, and then reached out and cut the communication. Tudraka turned, heading for the exit.
"Tudraka."
He froze, Nemriva's voice locking him in place. The young Jedi turned back toward her.
"We need to talk. What happened is highly unusual."
Nemriva gestured to one of the seats by the conference table, sliding into one herself, detaching her light-shoto from her hip, and setting it on the table before her. Tudraka moved to follow, each step like a heavy weight. He didn't want this conversation to happen; things were too raw, and he was unsure if he would be able to keep his center. His back pressed against the cold metal of the conference room chair.
"Master, I–"
Nemriva held up one hand.
"Tudraka, please, do not call me that. I am a Jedi, the same as you. Older, perhaps. The Council thinks wiser, but I find that fact debatable." Nemriva leaned forward onto her knees. "None of that matters now. We need to focus on the moment. And the truth of the moment is Master Ch'kaan somehow managed to reach out to you. You were her student. Her friend. And she left a message behind for no one else."
Tudraka frowned as his memories of Ch'kaan raced again across his thoughts, her smile, her words of encouragement, the terrible visage of her eyeless head.
"I didn't even know that something like that was possible. Reaching across time…."
"All things are possible in the Force." Nemriva answered. "I have traveled very far, seen a great many things you would likely consider to be impossible. I learned long ago that everything that can be, is."
Tudraka raised one eyebrow, a question in his blazing red eyes.
"You mean you have seen something like this before?"
"Seen it? No." Nemriva shakes her head. "Heard stories. Whispers across the space lanes of secret groups of monks who can immerse themselves within the flow of time. Ch'kaan's people are skilled seers; it is not beyond reason to assume she somehow learned this ability."
"But then why me? Why not you, or one of the High Council? I'm just a Padawn, and not even a very good one." Tudraka looked down at his hands, fingers picking at one another in his lap.
Nemriva shook her head. "It doesn't matter, Tudraka. It was you. Which means you alone can follow this path. It is my duty to help you–and I will, I promise–but you are the one who the Force seems to be pushing forward. I can feel it, even if I do not understand why."
Tudraka looked up, the frown on his face deepening, carving blue canyons in his forehead. Nemriva was staring at him, her face serious, her visage chiseled from stone.
"Maste–Nemriva. I don't know what to do. Master Ch'kaan was everything I had."
"You do know." Nemriva nodded, as if in affirmation to her own statement. "Search your feelings, Tudraka. Tell me what they say."
"My….feelings?" Tudraka blinked, confused.
Nemriva sighed. "Yes. Your feelings. I know this may be hard to believe considering what they teach inside the Temple these days, but you have feelings. Emotions. I can sense them roiling within you even now."
Tudraka's cheeks burned darker blue as he blushed.
"No! Listen to me, Tudraka. You have nothing to be ashamed of." Nemriva's face softened, her eyes imploring him. "I know you have likely been taught to 'control your feelings', yes?"
Tudraka nodded.
"And I am sure that you have taken that to mean repression. Many Padawans do, and few Masters have the focus or the wisdom to correct this issue. I can feel your struggle with your emotions, my friend; you try to repress them, but they radiate from you like the sun. The more you push them down, the brighter they burn within you."
Nemriva offered Tudraka a soft smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling.
"I have learned many things in my travels. Explored many different ways of thinking, seen a dozen different approaches to the Force. Do you know what the most important lesson has been, Tudraka? Acceptance. Awareness is the root of control; true, constant awareness. And awareness only comes through acceptance; how can you be aware of feelings you refuse to acknowledge are there? How can you control something by shoving it away? It is a paradox, I know. But you will never control your emotions through repression. You have to accept them, let them flow through you. You must be the master of your feelings, Padawan, not the other way around. And to do this you must know them. Close your eyes."
Tudraka blinked, absorbing Nemriva's words.
"Go on. Close your eyes." she repeated.
Tudraka listened, letting his lids slide closed.
"Now, let go of your control. Let your feelings flow. Unstop the cork you have forced into your soul."
Tudraka frowned, his eyes still closed. He heard Nemriva, knew what she wanted, but he was hesitant. All of his training told him that to let go was dangerous, that letting his feelings flow free could lead towards the dark side. Tudraka was afraid of what would happen. He was angry at the death of his oldest friend. How could ceding his hold on such things help him? It was not the Jedi way.
"Tudraka…." Nemriva's voice was soft, but firm. "Please, trust me."
Tudraka wasn't sure what it was, perhaps something in Nemriva's voice, or maybe he was just tired of holding back the tide inside him. Whatever the case, Tudraka listened; he took the plunge, and let go.
His emotions came crashing down on him all at once, a maelstrom he was completely unprepared for after years of turning away from it. His anger and frustration at the restrictions of the Order, the anger and frustration he felt at himself for constantly failing to live up to Jedi standards, the fear of failure, of being cast out from the only group that had ever truly taken him in. And beneath it all was grief, solid, pure, a bedrock of sadness that underlay everything, the feeling of loss at Ch'kaan's death vibrating deep down into the core of his being. Tudraka felt tears springing up beneath his closed eyelids. He tried to fight, to stamp them back down.
"It is alright, Tudraka." Nemriva's voice again, smooth, like a cool water across his burned spirit. "It's alright. Now, follow the feeling you find the strongest. Immerse yourself in it, let it echo within you."
Tudraka listened, and grabbed hold of his sadness. It nearly overwhelmed him, a strained choke somehow contained in his throat. The emotion was so deep, like an endless ocean that threatened to overwhelm him. Tudraka felt sweat break out along his arms.
"Very good!" Tudraka clung to Nemriva's voice like a liferaft. "Follow it, Tudraka! Let it wash over you. Remind yourself you are within it, but you are apart from it. It will try to sweep you away, but you are the Master of your own being. Follow it deeper, to the source. Tell me what you feel."
Tudraka did as he was told; he took a deep breath, reminding himself of who he was, that he was a Jedi. He told himself that his sadness existed within him, but that it was not the sum total of his being. It was difficult, the grief so raw, so potent that it was hard to see where it ended. But he slowly began to feel the border between himself and his feelings. It was like a rope, a powerful cord of identity that he held within his hands. He used it to haul himself down, down deeper into his being. Tears streamed free from beneath his closed eyes, but the deeper he went, the more nuance he noticed within the current of emotion around him. The grief was not ubiquitous; it swirled, disturbed by other things, eddies of other emotions that mixed within the well of sadness.
" I feel….I feel grief, but….it's not alone. There is anger there, frustration. Regret. Guilt. And…..urgency."
Tudraka opened his red eyes, the feeling of urgency welling up within his chest like an unstoppable tidal wave, or a collapsing dam. It almost overrode the sadness he felt at Ch'kaan's death, a sense that he needed to get Nar Shadda, as quickly as possible. The realization brought with it a clarity that pushed the grief back. Nemriva examined Tudraka's face. Finally, she nodded, her smile fading until her face settled back into its normal stone facade.
"Good." she said, standing. "Too many Jedi spend far too long locked away from the galaxy, hidden within the walls of the Temple. There is so much to learn that cannot be learned without leaving the strictures of our youth behind. Don't fear your feelings, Tudraka; embrace them. They can be a strength that the Jedi have nearly forgotten."
Nemriva stepped forward, and placed a hand on Tudraka's shoulder.
"My own feelings on this mission are that we are in far over our heads. Whatever enemy could threaten a Master like Ch'kaan is far beyond either of us. You must be ready, my friend. Whatever lies before us, it will be a tribulation greater than any we have faced before. You will not survive unless you can learn to master what I have just shown you. We will not survive. The Force swirls around you in ways I have not yet been able to fully discern, but I know this: you must come to terms with your inner self. For Ch'kaan if for nothing else. That much is very clear to me."
She gave Tudraka's shoulder one last comforting pat, and then stepped towards the doorway, the portal hissing as the hydraulic door closed behind her. Tudraka sat for a moment, thinking over Nemriva's words, his body almost vibrating as his emotions faded into the background again, leaving only an aching void where they had been only a moment before, throbbing like a fresh burn or an open wound. His mind was racing, but finally he stood, heading for the refresher, hoping the hot steam would help to clear his head.
The cheers of the crowd were enormous, vibrating in the Tudraka's stomach even from inside the red stone tunnel. Their applause was like thunder, beings from across the Outer Rim screaming for blood and battle. He had been preparing for this moment for years, day in and day out of training with the battle masters, learning fighting styles from a dozen worlds. Weeks of being starved, beaten, sleep deprived, all in the name of creating the perfect warrior. Today was to be his final christening, the moment he finally got to step upon the sands of the arena, his fifteenth birthday and his first bloodletting. Godoba the Hutt had planned an exclusive event, a team battle that would surely be talked about for months to come, a battle of proven champions against up-and-coming youngsters. He knew that he was first into the fray for his team, that at any moment the metal gate in front of him would slide up, and–
The gate slid up without warning, clanging into the stone ceiling. Tudraka took a deep breath, and then stepped out into the blinding light of the Geonosian sun. His opponent did the same on the opposite side of the wide, flat fighting pit. The enemy was a male Zabrak, vicious black tattoos etched across his pale, alabaster skin; he hefted a vibrosword in each hand, and offered a vicious smile to him, pointing one blade at the Tudraka from across the red sand. Tudraka was unarmed, clad only in light fighting leathers that left his arms and legs free, but he smiled in kind, raising one hand to salute the Zabrak, then gesturing to come on. The crowd erupted into cheers, their frenzy fueled by the prospect of imminent death.
The Zabrak bellowed a war cry, then charged across the sand, red dust kicked up in his wake. The man was fast, very fast; he closed the distance in an instant, swinging one blade at Tudraka's head, the other launching into an uppercut meant to catch him in his belly. He ducked, spun with grace to the side as the Zabrak's blades whisked past by a bare inch. The enemy was already attacking again, and Tudraka ducked, spinning in another graceful dodge that ripped another frenzied roar from the crowd. He reached out with his stomach, the way he had been taught to by the instructors Godoba had hired, trusting his instincts to guide him. He seemed to know every move the Zabrak would make before the Zabrak made it, and this helped him to stay one step ahead of his opponent.
A sharp pull of pain lanced its way through his shoulder, breaking him out of his focus. He spun away, putting distance between himself and the Zabrak, then looked down and saw a red stain spreading across his tunic; the Zabrak had landed a decent strike, not deep, but a real wound. He frowned, anger flaring up inside his stomach. It was time to get serious.
The Zabrak attacked again, but this time he lashed out with an upward high kick, dumping all of his strength into the blow. The Zabrak cried out as a foot connected with the man's wrist, sending one of the blades flying. A downward chop from the remaining blade came as the response, and Tudraka rolled away, turning just in time to catch the Zabrak launching into a follow-up stab. He spun around the oncoming blade, the tip of the vibrosword tearing a hole in his leather tunic. He lashed out as he completed his spin, catching the Zabrak's other wrist with one hand while the other palm struck the man's elbow. There was a sharp crack, and the Zabrak screamed, dropping the vibrosword in reflex, then falling backwards into the red sand, clutching at his arm, the sharp white point of a bone sticking out from the backwards bend in his elbow. Then Tudraka bent down, and picked up the sword. He advanced, raising the sword over his head to land the killing blow before his opponent's teammate could join the fray, the Zabrak trying to scramble backwards. The noise of the crowd was gone, faded into a dull droning as his entire focus narrowed on the man before him. His anger, his adrenaline, his fear had all fused into a single, numb emotion that called for nothing less than the Zabrak's death. Tudraka locked his gaze on his wounded opponent's, and saw nothing but fear. Tudraka hesitated, only for a moment, the look of terror in his opponent's face giving him pause. The Zabrak responded by grabbing a fistful of sand, and tossing it into the Tudraka's eyes.
He screamed, tossing up his arm, and backing away as fire tore through his vision. Tears sprang up right away, blinding him. He lashed out with the vibrosword, backing away further, trying to create distance between himself and the Zabrak. The sound of metal gates opening rang out. The other teammates had joined the fray, and Tudraka was useless without his vision. He heard the sound of footsteps pounding across the ground, and then a sharp pain exploded in his gut. He flew backwards as a kick drove all the air from his lungs, the vibrosword flying from his grasp. He landed in a heap a few feet away, unable to see or breathe. He knew right away, this was the end. His first bout, and he had failed. Shame washed over him like a wave; the moment had come, the moment of truth that his trainers had always told him about, the moment that separated those with souls of steel from the weak. Tudraka had had the chance to deliver the killing blow, and he had hesitated. He deserved the death that was coming for him, and he closed his burning eyes to await the final blow.
But the blow never came. Tudraka heard shouting, and the sounds of fighting. His teammate was engaged with the enemy; he rolled over, rubbing his eyes, trying to clear them while he forced his diaphragm to respond to his body's commands again, dragging in a ragged breath. A scream broke out, and the crowd cheered like animals. Tudraka heard the Zabrak cursing in Huttese, and then suddenly the man fell silent, his final sentence punctuated by a soft thud. A hand grabbed his forearm, and Tudraka grabbed back out of reflex. There was a heft, and he was hauled back up to his feet. He blinked, finally clearing his eyes, and turned to greet his teammate.
Tudraka looked into his own face. The man was splattered in blood, the vibrosword in his hand dripping red, his fighting leathers a match for Tudraka's own. He had the same blue brow, the same red eyes, even the same haircut. What was happening? How could this be? The man wearing Tudraka's visage smiled, and raised his arm up into the air, dragging Tudraka's with it. The arena went wild, screaming praise down upon them both while the bodies of their opponents were dragged away by Geonosian attendants.
Tudraka awoke, sitting bolt upright in bed, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. He took several deep breaths, urging his racing pulse back under control. He couldn't understand why he was plagued by such strange nightmares, echoes from a time he wished to forget. Tudraka could remember the fight from his dream, his first ever bout. He remembered saving his teammate's life, but had trouble remembering his partner's face, indeed even his species. It was a period of Tudraka's life that he was hesitant to revisit, even in memory.
He lay back down, his head sinking into the rough barracks pillow as he repeated the Jedi mantra within his mind. Sarlacc Team breathed soft around him, lost to their own dreams. Nemriva had been right; Nar Shadda was fast approaching, and Tudraka needed to focus on the present if he was going to help save the WatchNet. It was only a dream, a remnant left over from a past he had long abandoned. Tudraka finally slipped back into sleep, banishing the last vestiges of the memory from his mind.
