Control
- Jen Sahara -
The Twi'lek girl was right; the Sith were vigilantly guarding the Undercity entrance. In a snide tone, Carth suggested I should talk them into letting us past, but I put that down to bad temper and ignored him. I'm not trying that again, not after my spectacular failure in the pazaak den. Maybe we should try talking to Gadon first - Mission was fairly insistent.
She seemed like a sweet kid, although I wouldn't call her that out loud. Unlike Flyboy - great tact there. Bright, impulsive, good-natured... she reminds me of someone. I don't know who... maybe she reminds me of what I'd like to be. I blinked, surprised at my own train of thought. No, there was something a bit naïve and enthusiastic about her. She'd probably stick her neck out to save gizka, I thought sourly, just like Jen.
"So, not interested in chatting up the Sith?" Carth muttered. He was still pissed at our lack of credits, and his mood was becoming more than a little tiresome. But – loathe as I was to admit it – Carth had a valid reason to be angry. Our dire money situation was an issue. I'd probably have to sell the stims I'd been hiding so we could actually eat for the next few days.
"I think we should speak to Gadon," I said in a measured tone. "I haven't got any other ideas, and Mission strikes me as a genuine sort. If she suggested going to the Beks, then it's likely a good start."
Carth muttered something under his breath, but followed my lead – back to the cantina. Fortunately, getting directions to the gang base from there wasn't difficult – obviously the Beks were used to visitors. A quick walk from the cantina on one of the main pipelines through the Lower City brought us to the guarded entrance of the Hidden Bek base. I briefly wondered what genius had given the gang their name.
The guard was poorly armed, but quick to protest as I tried the door – an old-fashioned, swinging door made of a thick plasteel compound, and likely bolted from the inside seeing as I couldn't budge it at all.
"Hey, you can't just walk in here!" the guard yelled indignantly, shoving me away from the resistant door. A flash of fury fired in my gut; part of me knew that anger so quick to flare was both dangerous and unhealthy. I clenched my teeth and pushed it away. Calm down, she's just doing her job. I swear I could feel Carth smirk behind me.
"I want to talk to Gadon Thek," I said, struggling to keep my tone pleasant and non-threatening.
"And how do I know you're not a Vulkar spy sent to kill him?" the guard sneered, her face twisting in dislike as she eyed me over.
"Uh, well, you don't?" I offered without thinking. Her expression darkened.
"Look," I appeased quickly, inwardly kicking myself. "I'm not a Vulkar. I just want to get into the Undercity. Mission suggested I talk to Gadon."
She was still glaring at me in distrust. "Mission Vao? Well, I suppose it's not like you can do anything to harm Gadon in the heart of his own base. Not with Zaerdra watching his back." She paused for a minute, her lips twisting as she thought it over. "Go in and speak to Gadon if you want. Just remember to be on your best behavior... the Hidden Beks are watching you."
She has no right to talk down to me like that! My thoughts tumbled over one another, rage and logic vying for dominance. No, I need their help. Anger will do no good here.I felt my fingernails dig into my palms as I struggled for calm, struggled to push aside the unreasonable anger.
The guard knocked loudly on the door, and a small panel slid open in the centre. I could just make out a shadowy face stare at us from behind a pane of grimy transparisteel.
"Strangers," the guard called. "Claim they want to see Gadon about the Undercity."
A grating noise indicated the bolting mechanism was being dismantled, and a minute later the door opened. Considering the lax security – we hadn't even been searched! – I was becoming more and more surprised that the Sith hadn't conquered these Lower City gangs. Carth shot me a disbelieving glance; he was thinking along the same lines then. I guess the Sith are just as incompetent on Taris as everywhere else in the known galaxy. These gangs are ripe for the taking. The Sith? Incompetent? Why would I think that? I tried to chase down the origin of the thought, but it slipped away into the shadows, another secret locked in the recesses of my unstable mind.
Don't just stand there like you've swallowed a Bothan stunner, idiot. The guard was getting suspicious at my pause; her brows had lowered into a full-fledged glare as I stalled in the entrance, wearing a glazed look like a stim junkie. Carth nudged me towards the open door, shooting me a concerned look.
I shook my head to clear out the cobwebs, nodded curtly to the glowering guard, and strode into the Bek base.
The main hall of the base was rather large, and armoured gang members lurked against the walls, staring at me as I walked through. A few of them stroked their displayed weapons overtly as I caught their eye. Gang members and their egos. As if a bunch of poorly dressed thugs with vibroswords could intimidate me. But most of them were content to size us up from a distance – apart from a Twi'lek female stalking toward us, her eyes shooting daggers and her stride purposeful and that of a competent fighter.
"Hold it right there - who are you and what is your business with Gadon?" she demanded, hands on hips as she blocked my way. My hand twitched towards my vibrosword instinctively. The woman's eyes widened as she caught my move and she snarled, drawing out her weapon in a flash. Damn my gut reactions!
"Spies!" she yelled, and a chorus of gang members bellowed in response. The noise of multiple blades being drawn rang through the hall, and fleetingly I hoped none would pull out blasters. Stop this, before I get hurt! My hand held the hilt of my vibrosword tightly, but sense stopped me from lifting it. Before I get hurt? This ragtag mob is no match for me!
"We're not here to fight!" Carth called out desperately next to me.
"Everybody stop!" an authoritative voice shouted above the din. All around us Hidden Beks stood watching warily, blades – and blasters, I noted – aimed directly at us. All because of my gut reaction to that Twi'lek's hostility. I hope Carth didn't see that – or I'll never hear the end of it. If we get out of here alive, that is. My eyes flicked around the large hall; perhaps forty gang members surrounding us, and at least ten had blasters.
…I really need to work on my instincts.
The man who'd called a temporary halt to the proceedings was strolling towards us. He was Human, I noted in surprise – the only Human Bek in the room. I wondered if he was their illustrious leader; his authority coupled with his nonchalant stance seemed to suggest so.
"They're spies, Gadon, sent by the Vulkars!" the Twi'lek insisted, eyes glaring into mine. Say something, before this Gadon loses control of his troops!
"No, Mission suggested we come talk to Gadon," I said in a rush.
"Lies!" the woman hissed. She raised her vibrosword higher, pointing it threateningly at me. I swallowed down the urge to fight back against her challenge; to slash open her throat and end her defiance. I will not lose control. Not here, otherwise I may as well just sodding shoot myself!
"Calm down, Zaerdra," Gadon said in a soothing voice. "If Mission sent them here, I doubt very much they'd be looking to attack me. It would be a suicide attempt, at any rate."
"Gadon, you're too trusting! I saw that sneak-"
"Zaerdra," he cut in, his voice a warning.
She glared hatefully at me and stood down, but did not sheathe her weapon. I felt the eyes of everyone on us, ready for one false move. If I ever needed to control Evil Bitch, it is right now. Carth stood in a defensive pose next to me, his eyes flicking from person to person.
"Now, what did you two want?" Gadon asked in a friendly tone, as if I didn't have forty weapons primed at my head.
"We're looking for a way to get into the Undercity," I replied blandly. His eyes bored into mine in inquiry, the strange violet colour of ocular implants. They were an expensive way to restore eyesight, which made me wonder, idly, just how profitable the Hidden Beks' operations were.
"And Mission sent you to see us?" he questioned. "Why do you want to go there?"
I hesitated. May as well tell the truth – I can't think of anything believable to invent. "I want to check out the escape pods."
Gadon took my measure, eyeing me over in consideration. "Well," he said in a lower tone, too soft for anyone bar us and Zaerdra to hear. "You're not Vulkars or Sith. If you were working for Davik, I'd expect you to find your own way to the Undercity. You're with the Republic, aren't you?"
No. Carth's face tightened in discomfort. "We're looking for someone," I hedged. Carth turned to glower at me, and I realized belatedly that perhaps I wasn't being as evasive as I'd hoped. Gadon had a little smile on his face.
"I don't mind telling you what I've learnt. The Vulkars stripped the pods clean some time ago, and I know for a fact they took a Republic Officer captive."
"Who?" Carth demanded, his voice loud in the now-quiet room. Gadon shot him a startled look.
"Relax, Flyboy." I scowled at him. I'd only just drawn myself back under control, I didn't need him jumping the gun too.
"What's the name of this person you're looking for?" Gadon replied. Thinks he's got the upper hand, does he? My eyes scanned the room. Oh right, he does.
"A woman called Bastila," I muttered.
"Jen!" Carth hissed. His face turned red with anger. "What are you doing?"
"Calm down, Flyboy." I shot him a quelling look, but from his expression I knew there would be words later.
Gadon chuckled, his strange eyes glinting. "I had to see some trust before I went further."
"I don't trust anyone," Carth said, but he was glaring at me.
Gadon's eyebrows lowered.
And here I thought I was the one who made things worse. "Don't pay any attention to him; he's just my version of Zaerdra." I appeased. I heard a low noise from Carth. Be quiet, Flyboy! Zaerdra hissed, a new level of malice crossing her face. Somehow, I didn't think Zaerdra would ever be a friend of mine.
Sod it all. I turned back to face the leader of the Hidden Beks. "So, Gadon, can you help us?"
"Perhaps we can help each other," Gadon offered. I inclined my head in curiosity, and he continued. "Ever ridden a swoop before?"
I blinked. Have I? "Uh, once or twice," I bluffed. "Why?"
"Bastila is the officer Brejik – and his Vulkars – captured. He's offered her up as prize for the annual swoop race in a week's time," Gadon continued.
"Prize?" Carth said in a sort of squeak. Heh, no wonder she's always unconscious. Sedated, probably. I can't imagine an uptight Jedi standing for any of that. Though she had been awake the last few hours, and very, very angry. Her presence radiated heat in the back of my head.
"The only chance you have of getting Bastila back is at the annual swoop race. But you need a gang sponsor to enter." Gadon smiled at me. "I could be persuaded to sponsor your entry."
I raised an eyebrow. "All of this is sounding like a bit of a long shot. And exactly what sort of persuasion are you after, Gadon Thek?"
His smile broadened, like he'd caught a fish wriggling on a line. I wasn't particularly impressed with the thought of myself as a harmless aquatic, and felt a scowl forming.
"The Vulkars stole an accelerator prototype from our swoop bikes. Get it back for me, and I'll get you in the race," he said. My eyes bugged out with disbelief. That's a little something? Well, this will be interesting... and I wonder if it really was theirs to begin with.
Zaerdra snorted in derision. I saw Carth's mouth drop open in the periphery of my vision.
"Think they'll just let two strangers waltz on in and nick it?" I said, hearing the sarcasm in my voice. "This doesn't really sound like help."
"You're in no position to bargain here!" Zaerdra growled. One of her lekku twitched and my eyes followed automatically. What did she just call me? Confusion followed – maybe I really was losing it if I thought a Twi'lek's headtails were insulting me.
"The Vulkars will win the swoop race hands down with that prototype," Gadon added.
"Why is that so important to you?" Carth asked. He was frowning in suspicion.
Gadon shrugged, but seemed content to answer our questions. "Prestige and power goes along with winning. If the Vulkars win again this year, more of the smaller gangs will flock to them."
Well, breaking into their base does sound like fun, a dark voice commented. No – without a sound plan and appropriate gear, it sounds flat-out insane. I gritted my teeth, pushing the thoughts away. "All right, Gadon, say we do this. Where is it?"
"The Vulkars have a nearby base whose entrance is very heavily guarded. The thieves were spotted absconding into that stronghold, but it'd be suicide to retrace their footsteps – especially since there's reports of a back entrance in the sewers." Gadon paused, staring at us. "I know of one person who might be able to find that entrance: Mission Vao."
"Mission? Gadon, you can't be serious!" Zaerdra burst out in a horrified tone. "She's just a kid - how is she supposed to help them with this? I thought you agreed to keep her out of the Undercity!"
Gadon tensed, but kept his eyes on me and Carth. "Zaerdra, the Vulkars are making gains with all this fighting. You know this. We need to win the swoop race."
"But you've never involved Mission before, and-"
"Zaerdra, I don't have a choice!" Gadon said, his voice rising with heat. "And she's not just a kid anymore!" He sighed, briefly closing his eyes before continuing his instructions. "You should find Mission in the Undercity, according to the latest rumours. Do not let her enter the Vulkar base, or you will become an enemy of the Beks. This I vow."
I felt my expression freeze. Is that a threat, little man? I took a deep breath. No! He's a good man, don't get angry! Please! I settled for nodding slowly at Gadon, not trusting myself to speak.
"Wait a minute," Carth whispered to me. "If we're breaking into a Vulkar base, and they have Bastila, then why go through the rigmarole of a swoop race at all?"
That was a valid point. Gadon's hearing was better than I – or Carth – expected, for the leader chortled. "If you think that's the only Vulkars' base – or this, the only Beks' one – then you are misinformed about the size of Taris. Your officer Bastila will be imprisoned deep into their territory across the other side of the Lower City. The only reason they haven't moved the swoop part there is the Beks."
"We live up to our motto," Zaerdra added in a cold voice before elaborating: "The Hidden Beks are watching you."
As far as gang catchphrases went, it was pretty meek. I held back a smirk.
Gadon was nodding in agreement. "Either bring the accelerator back, or destroy it. Our riders will beat the Vulkars without it."
"You're forgetting one thing," Carth interrupted. "Just how are we supposed to get past the Sith guard down to the Undercity?"
Gadon grinned wickedly and held out his hand towards me. Clasped in it, he offered a large electronic data-chit. "Sith authorisation papers, access to the upper, lower and bottom levels of Taris. That's my sign of trust."
Zaerdra still wore a stony expression. I nodded my thanks. If nothing else, he's an honourable man. "I'll be back once I've dealt with the accelerator."
I turned and headed out of the base, staring aggressively at every Bek that met my eye. I also made sure to slam that archaic door on my way out.
"Thanks, Jen," Carth muttered, opening the door to let himself out as well. Oops.
It was late, and we started the walk back to the hideout in silence. Inwardly, I blessed Mission Vao, as I clutched our ticket to Tarisian freedom. If nothing else, we now had a way to roam the levels freely. Gadon must pay a pretty cred to the Sith to have papers like these readily available. Or maybe it was a mutual arrangement – tentative cooperation between the gangs and the Sith. It was the lower levels where the vast majority of the population lived, after all. If the gangs didn't keep the masses in check, they actually could overrun the surface.
"How could you just come right out and say Bastila's name?" Carth condemned a minute later. "You think they won't sell us out to the Sith for a few credits?"
"I think we had no other option," I replied.
He sighed noisily. It sounded like he wanted to lambast me further, but knew, perhaps, that I had a point. "Maybe you're right, Jen. After all, it's our first genuine lead for Bastila."
The concession surprised me, and I turned to stare at him. Carth was still frowning in thought, but his anger seemed to have disappeared. He caught me looking, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "We're a step closer due to your instincts. For a moment there, I thought that insane Twi'lek was about to start a firefight."
My instincts… He hadn't noticed my pre-emptive move towards the vibrosword, then. Good thing, too, otherwise he'd be damning my instincts rather than praising them. I felt slightly uncomfortable.
"Still, I wish we didn't have to trust a gang leader," he continued as we walked along.
"He won't sell us out to the Sith," I muttered. Well, not until we've dealt with the accelerator, my cynical mind added.
xXx
Darkness reigned, and I prowled through an empty apartment; for once feeling unwatched and alone. My connection with Bastila had vanished an hour ago, just as I'd given up on the idea of sleep. All evening I'd been swamped with her anger, her frustration - and at times a smug sense of satisfaction - which had all the more aroused my curiosity. What has she been up to? I swear I can tell when she's using the Force, and it seemed like she was making an escape attempt. The last emotions I'd sensed had been rage and denial, before her presence seemed to fade into drowsiness. Obviously she'd been sedated once more, I'd thought, but then her presence vanished completely from my mind an instant later. Like she'd been cut off from the Force. Like she'd never been linked to me. Or- killed?
But no, I didn't believe that. I would have felt her life-force draining away if she had died. Would I? How would I know what I'd feel? While I was still curious about the Jedi's predicament, I'd decided to stop thinking and enjoy my new found freedom from her mental presence.
I'd left Carth snoring back at the hideout to go on a looting mission. I may have promised not to steal again, but he clings to his mistrust so fiercely that I'd hate to disappoint him. I'd sold those stims to buy dinner, which had only annoyed Carth further. Would he rather starve? He was irritated - presumably because I hadn't told him about my hidden stash.
I was deeper in the alien quarter, a remote apartment block that was as rundown as ours. I was interested in credits, to once more fill up my depleted purse. That's not the only reason. I'm trying to chase down a memory.
Picking locks, and sneaking through people's homes... felt familiar. Was I a street kid? A street kid with morals, perhaps, it didn't feel right to clean out a place out entirely. Just take a little bit, only what I need.
A street kid who'd fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and whose close friend wielded a lightsaber.
I needed to know... to know more. I wasn't Jen Sahara, and I couldn't be Evil Bitch. Maybe here, by doing what felt natural, I would uncover some further details.
The grubby apartment I was looting was deserted for the night, and I flicked on a bedside lamp. The place was stark and empty, with living quarters deeper in the room and a refresher to the right. I saw a stack of holovids in the corner, and a handful of plasteel chits. Silly sents leaving these here for the taking. I palmed them, turned towards the exit, and froze as the door swished open-
"Who are you? Thief!" an armoured Trandoshan yelled in Basic. He charged into the room, drawing a pair of vibroblades, and I only just had my 'sword raised in time. Behind him, two other thugs in combat armour were framed in the doorway.
Kath crap! I've been looting some Exchange jerk's hideout!
Knocking the man's knives to the side, I feinted left and sidestepped right, lunging towards his torso as I did so. He twisted back, and my blow glanced against his armour. One of his allies was flanking him, now, wielding a vicious-looking vibro-staff.
An icy sliver of desperation shuddered down my spine. Use the Force, you moron! I ducked and rolled to the right of them both, jabbing the second one in the leg. I felt his armour give as my blade cut deep. I don't know how! The thug screamed, wilding swinging the staff at me. It caught on my wounded shoulder, and I let out an involuntarily shriek, scrambling backwards.
Use the pain! I gritted my teeth, dropped a hand from the vibrosword to pull out a blaster, and shot the man in the face. Twice.
Another scream from him, this time his last.
A glancing pain scored against my hand, and my gun dropped to the floor in reaction. The third bastard shot me in the hand!
"You die now!" he yelled, pointing the gun at my head. The Trandoshan was still on my left, advancing with a fierce gleam of ferocity.
I'm not going down to this scum! Thoughts raged into a blistering storm, and something strong surged through me, uncontrolled. I could suddenly sense the environment around me as power, particles to be manipulated – and, once more, muscle memory reigned supreme. I snarled, and raised my wounded hand towards the first thug, and clenched it despite the pain.
I could feel him as he was raised off the floor, propelled into the air... right in front of the next blaster shot fired at me from the third man. These bugs dare to hurt me?
The Trandoshan gurgled in midair, and I mentally shoved. He was thrown backwards into the other man, so they both crashed to the floor, one on top of the other. I will not be stopped! No one can challenge me! The sheer power of ultimate rage tasted so sweet.
End it! I stalked up to the two bodies in the doorway, and viciously stabbed my blade into both. A cut-off scream from the body underneath. A sweet melody.
I looked up, and another shadow flickered across my consciousness, further down the public corridor. No one can escape me. The residential spectator was backpedaling away, futilely trying to escape. I ripped my vibrosword out of the prone corpses, and threw it down the hallway with inhuman speed. It hit the bystander with a thud, sinking deep into an unarmoured chest. He slowly crumpled.
I watched him fall, heard his dying wheeze, and reality sliced a shiv-blade across my soul. Unarmoured. Spectator. Stranger.
An icy rush as the blazing power deserted me in a flash.
I ran to the body, fell to my knees, and clutched at his shoulders. He was a Rodian, clad in the tattered rags of an alien trying to survive the xenophobia of Upper Taris. Oh no, no, no... what have I done? His body convulsed once before stilling. Blank eyes stared up at me, accusing. Bright red blossomed against the blade that stuck out awkwardly from his chest. I've just murdered an innocent! Someone who was no threat! A noise in my throat. What have I become?
Numbness enveloped me. Distantly, I could feel a wet trail of shame edging down one cheek. There was anguish, lodged hard in my chest… but a thick cloud of detachment, too. What's another to my tally?
The empty eyes of the stranger still blamed me as burning bile rose in my throat. I fell backwards against the wall, dry-retching. What sort of monster am I?
I can't control this. I'm turning into something... repulsive, loathsome. I can't keep doing this. Funny how quiet Evil Bitch was all of a sudden. I didn't feel any glee at all, from any side of me.
I need help; I've got to turn somewhere. Before I slaughter anyone else.
I could use the Force again. Why this time, and not before?
I need help.
Dia told me to see a doctor.
Maybe the doctor who gave Onasi that kolto could help me.
I left my vibrosword where it was and scrabbled to my feet. Horror still pounded through my head. I was walking, stumbling, running... I didn't notice my surroundings, my thoughts were too rampant. Death. Do I bring death wherever I go?
xXx
Somehow, I stumbled into the medical facility a few hours before dawn, just as it was opening. A shifty looking individual stood by the entrance, waving me in with barely a second glance. Inside was a stark foyer lined with chairs, and a handful of closed doors that likely led to treatment rooms.
A dark-skinned Human dressed in tidy white clothes was bent over a console. He looked up as I approached.
"Welcome. My name is Zelka Forn, and this is the Central Free Clinic," he greeted. "What can I do for you?
The man was middle aged and greying. His face was lined, his gaze steady, and he somehow exuded a calming presence with his expression alone.
"Hi," I began.
"What do you need? Healing? Medical Supplies?" Zelka asked.
"Well, advice more than anything," I said.
"Of course," he murmured, tilting his head in acknowledgment. "What seems to be the problem?"
I'd tried to rehearse this in my head during the last hour. It hadn't helped. "I hit my head severely a few days ago, and ever since then I haven't been thinking straight."
Zelka peered at me through wizened eyes. "You may have concussion. Would you like me to examine you?"
"I don't think that's it," I replied. "I've been having some strong thoughts that are totally out of character, and I can't seem to control them."
"Can you elaborate on these thoughts?" he questioned. His bushy eyebrows raised as he continued to stare at me searchingly.
"Well, I'm usually a shy person," I lied. "But lately I've been having violent… urges. Like, someone's been rude to me, and I've had to restrain myself from pushing them." Pushing them. Yeah… nice euphemism. Let's not tell him about my murder pangs.
"I see," Zelka answered, and then looked at my hand. "Pushed someone recently, have you?"
I flushed. "Uh, a fight I couldn't get out of." A fight where I killed an innocent.
"Hmm." Zelka picked up a pot of salve and started seeing to my hand as he continued the conversation. "And you've been having these thoughts ever since you hit your head?"
"Yes," I replied, "and I really need to concentrate on what I'm doing right now, but my emotions keep making this difficult."
A frown creased the older man's face as he cleaned my hand. I tried not to wince. "Can you recall the events leading up to your injury?"
"Well, not really. It's all hazy." Like the last year. "I woke up on the ground with my head split open. Everything's been crazy since then."
Zelka was silent for a long time. "It could be your conscious self has forgotten something," he said slowly. Hah! And the prize goes to the good doctor! "Strong emotional outbursts after a head injury can be indicative of short-term amnesia. If some incident occurred that your conscious mind finds too traumatic to recall, your sub-conscious may have protected it as a defense mechanism. That could perhaps explain the emotional outbursts – your inner emotions manifesting in other ways. Are you sure your head injury was an accident?"
"Um, yeah." How would I know, if I can't remember it?
"Hmm." He didn't look convinced. "Well, I'm not a psychoanalyst. My advice would be to go to your family or loved ones, and spend some time recuperating there."
"I-I can't," I hedged, "not for awhile, anyway. I just need some advice on how to deal with this. I've tried controlling my emotions, but that doesn't seem to work."
"That's probably because you are battling rather than resolving them," he countered. "I would also suggest meditation as a method for calming your mind. There are many tutorials on the holonets that can help as a starting point if you do not know how."
I nodded. "Anything else?"
"If it's getting out of control I can prescribe you some medication, but the side effects are strong. Drowsiness, passivity, and reduced brain activity. I would not suggest taking it unless absolutely necessary."
No, I'd rather not. That sounds too much like the last half-year has been, scurrying around silently on the Endar Spire like a scared tach.
Zelka tapped his fingers on his desk. "Is there anything that brings you serenity? An activity that grants you peace of mind? Something you can focus on?"
I thought for awhile, struggling to remember what hobbies Jen liked. But would Jen's hobbies work for me? I sat down on the chair opposite Zelka, and closed my eyes.
Peace, serenity... what would make me feel like that? I took in a deep breath, and tried concentrating inwardly.
Focus on your breathing, a voice whispered. Focus on the Force all around you. A mild vertigo that was becoming all too familiar swept up from my gut and engulfed me.
…
I could see a wooden board in front of me, with figures of carved stone on different squares. They each had a different rune engraved on them, all indicating different tactics and specials that applied to each piece. It was a favourite pastime of mine, and certainly beat meditation. We'd brought the game from our homeworld, eschewing the more traditional dejarik in favour of it. Years ago, Freeflight had carved me a rudimentary set, back in the desolate alleys of the Western Underground.
The focus the game required forced all emotion from my head as I concentrated on pure tactics.
I moved the Chandrilan Peace rune forward. It was seen as one of the weaker pieces, which was why so many often underestimated it.
"Match," I murmured, a smile curving on my face. A restlessness claimed me once more as my mind released the focus required to win the game.
"Nice move. You won't catch me out that way again," a handsome young man sitting across from me said.
The scene faded, and the last thing I saw was the rueful grin lighting up the man's face as he stared at me affectionately.
…
I opened my eyes as the present flooded back in.
"And'zhai runes," I answered Zelka slowly. I remembered the name, but not the rules. I hoped I hadn't been sitting there too long. "It's a strategy game, similar to dejarik."
"I know neither game," Zelka said, "but strategy is a good focus for calming the mind. It is like a beast, you know. The mind can be trained. If such exercises bring you serenity, then I suggest focusing on them whenever you feel your emotions going out of control."
I nodded, but my mind was still whirling from the flashback. That was another glimpse of who I really am... and it's certainly not Jen or Evil Bitch. But the clues seemed contradictory in themselves... a street kid, who played tactical games and fought in wars, and whose best friend carried a lightsaber. How can any of that make sense?
"Got another rakghoul case," a different voice interrupted my reverie, and I glanced up to see the man from the entrance. "Some woman outside is begging you to look at her daughter in the Lower City. I don't know how she got past the Sith patrol."
"Rakghoul case? What's that?" I asked.
"It is a terrible affliction that has plagued Taris for many generations," Zelka replied. His voice was heavy. "It is spread by bites or scratches from rakghouls - beings who were once sentient, before the disease rotted most of their brain away. They live in the polluted Undercity, the open surface of Taris far beneath the great skyscrapers you see in the Upper City. We do not know how the disease first originated, but those infected mutate into rakghouls themselves, becoming no more than a wild beast attacking anything on sight."
Sounds like me, a forlorn voice whispered. "Is there no cure?" I whispered.
"Not a widely accessible one. I heard that a group of local scientists base here on Taris had perfected a vaccine, one that would stop the disease from taking root - and even halt its progression if caught in the early stages." A scowl formed on the Human's face. "Then the Sith imposed their quarantine. We have had a Sith presence on Taris for some years, but they had left academic institutions alone. Not any longer. They overran the laboratories, and now refuse access to anyone but their own forces. The Sith have copies of the prototype serum, but will not to distribute it. If I could just get my hands on a sample then the rakghoul disease could be wiped from the face of Taris forever!" Zelka declared in obvious passion. He sighed, then, the fierce emotion draining from his lined face. "But I don't see how that's going to happen."
I wanted to help this man. "Maybe I could find a way to get that serum for you." Jen, go away.
"I don't see how anyone could get their hands on it," he concluded, and his manner had returned to the brisk clinician of earlier. "The labs are crawling with Sith guards. Breaking in there would be tantamount to suicide. And now, I'd best see this lady waiting outside."
"Thank you for your advice, Zelka," I responded. "I appreciate it."
"I hope it helps. You can always come back if you are still having problems. There are a few hypnotic techniques we can try, but there are risks involved."
Hypnosis? No thanks. I've already had someone screw with my mind.
Zelka looked at me steadily. "I can sell you that medication if you think you may need it."
"It couldn't hurt. How much?" Always good to be prepared, I guess. The passive side-effects are slightly worrying... but you never know when drugs could come in handy. Zelka gave me a small bottle of meds, plus a few sedation hypoderms, for about half the credits I'd lifted that night.
Zelka nodded farewell to me, and walked away to greet his next patient.
I stood up, and stretched. Onasi's probably scared silly I've run off again. I should head back. But as I passed the assistant, he nudged me. It was about as subtle as a ferracrete brick.
"Psst! You there," he whispered loudly. "Wait a minute. I need to talk to you about the rakghoul serum. I've got an offer you might want to hear."
"An offer?" I quirked an eyebrow in question. There was a greasy sort of look about the man I didn't quite trust.
"Zelka isn't the only one who wants to get his hands on the rakghoul serum. The Exchange will pay you ten times what Zelka can afford if you get the cure."
"Um, no thanks," I mumbled, edging away. I don't want to start my raging thoughts going again!
"Don't be stupid!" He followed me, his voice insistent and grating. "We're talking a thousand creds here! Just remember, if you get your hands on that serum, take it to Zax at the Lower City bounty office. He can get you in touch with an Exchange agent."
I fled outside. But... a thousand credits? That'll be enough to get me a trip outta here after we rescue Flyboy's Jedi girlfriend. I recoiled. No! I know what the Exchange will do... they'll start selling it. To desperate people, for exorbitant prices. Zelka's the sort who'll do it for no profit. But I needed the creds... there was no denying that. What about the people suffering from the disease? Most of them will be screwed by the Exchange, unless they're rich! My thoughts swirled dangerously... rage and need and empathy crashing together in a nauseating vortex.
I swallowed as Zelka's advice came to mind. With a wrench, I strained to concentrate on a single And'zhai piece. All those rune stones in different places. I couldn't remember how to play, but I could sense the tactical possibilities, the calm concentration needed.
The anger and the fear slowly dissipated, like smoke dispersing into the wind. Serenity.
Wow, that actually worked.
Yet, as I walked away, I realized that a thousand credits had its' own allure.
xXx
