Legend of the Harp

By Hemaccabe

Episode III: The Crucible

Chapter 15: Can You Hear Me Running

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

*** Jedi Knight Furin Kazan, Relay Station ***

I maintained as a wall brace. As I did, I took stock of my situation. My body was typically made up of 71 to 75 liters of nano-particles. The blows I had sustained had annihilated 4.78 liters of my being. This wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't critical either. On the positive side, unlike the cells and organs of a conventional being, I could reassign my nano-particles immediately to whatever task was required.

Unlike a normal human who has about 100 billion brain cells, many of which are not functioning at any given moment, every nano-particle in my body could be part of the conversation. That meant I had two orders of magnitude more mental processing power available at any given moment. Further, my nano-particles were connected by speed of light in matter superconductors, not the relatively slow electro-chemical processes a human and most organic brains depended on.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean I was some super genius. Part of the transfer is that my 100 billion neuron network of personality had been transferred to this new body. Mostly, I still had the brains I was born with. I had immediately noticed my memory was now perfect. I could hold together and manage much larger ideas than I had before. For example, I could tell you where every Credit of the Harp's assets were, moment by moment. It helped me grind through the relentless pile of documents that never stopped accumulating far faster than I had before. Also, I no longer really slept or had the need.

Still, while one might think, being a Jedi and all, I would be the dominant party in my partnership with Sky. One would be wrong. Sky had other depths. She had explained, in that non-verbal communication that we almost always engaged in when she was nearby, that, as time went on, my personality would expand to use more of my available mental horsepower. Further, while the Order had seen to it that, by the standards of the galaxy, I was well educated, Sky was well beyond that.

I couldn't be sure, but I got the impression that Sky wasn't 50 or 60 years old, she was thousands. She had likely absorbed and accumulated most of the recorded media of her homeworld. In many ways, to her, I likely still seemed like a child. Generally, she was gracious about it and didn't flaunt her depths.

One way her capabilities showed was as a pilot. One would think, once again, being a Jedi I'd be able to handle her. One would be wrong. Most pilots demonstrated their two-dimensional thinking by orienting their craft to planetside as down and space as up. They applied thrust and maneuvered.

Sky was aware of every drop of gravity, every advantage of orbit, every object in the area, their vectors and how they interacted. Revenge's orientation would have nothing to do with the location of planetary bodies and would reflect her goals of achieving maximum advantage. She would let me operate the cannon while I was present, but one felt that had more to do with her being charitable than needing the help. It was like she was a mother piloting the family speeder home and she was letting her toddler, me, operate my play controls to feel important.

When I wasn't present, Sky had no trouble operating the guns as well. When I had watched her fire, it was scary because she never missed. I don't mean she would fire spreads and hit her targets, I mean she would fire once and it would hit. If the target wasn't destroyed it was because it was too big, and it's shields too deep to be broken in a single shot.

Back to the moment as my mind wandered, wondering where Sky was now.

I could lose some of my body and continue, but every time I lost more, I became weaker, my physical strength depended on the whole. I also lost part of my thinking and memory. Since I had a lot of spare, that wasn't so bad. Sky would suffer more from an equivalent loss as she used a lot more of herself. If I lost much more, it could become a problem. There was also the chamber in the center of my being where my Kyber crystal resided. If Burana got that, I might melt, or detonate.

Luckily though, I was doing a very passable imitation of a wall brace and this relay was a big place, so he was having a tough time finding me.

I relaxed. I shouldn't have. Because Burana may have rejected the Order and the Code, but he could still use the Force.

Burana stalked by me for what was the third time in 42.39 hours. As I expected him to saunter by and keep going, he swung about and, without warning, cut me in half. Again.

I thought nothing could hurt more than that the first time. I was wrong.

I don't know how I did it, but I came to myself and fled again before he could back sweep.

I fled for my life, that much weaker than I had been a moment before.

I came to another spot and hid just inside a ventilation grill.

When Burana got close again, I dropped out and ran again. That time I avoided him.

The next time I was an access panel. After thinking about it, I decided to end this confrontation.

When Burana got close I resumed my form. I held up my hands in surrender.

"I surrender. If you seek me as a bounty hunter, you can bring me in." I offered.

With hesitation, Burana walked up to me and cut me in half again.

"The reward says, 'Dead or Alive.'"

I ran again.

I found my way into a supply closet, hoping that would provide extra protection.

6.37 hours later the door opened, and he began to hack. I resumed my shape as quickly as possible, but it was a bad position. He held the door and the only way out. He began to score touches in the small space. I struggled to get by. As I struggled he cut off my right leg at the knee. I fell

Lying on the grimy metal floor, thank the Force on the outside of the closet, I looked at my leg for .018 seconds. If I tried to reconnect with my leg, Burana would cut me to ribbons. I fled.

Thus, was defined our game of hide and seek.

I would flee. I would hide. He would use the Force and find me. If I hid well, I could stay hidden longer. If he sought well, he found me sooner. Sometimes, I would flee before he could cut me. Sometimes he got the back slash. Sometimes I would try and fight, which I always lost, sometimes I just fled. I learned, and he learned. Days went by. I knew not to try and hide in a closet.

Each meeting cost me more of me. It was small consolation that I still lived. Normal flesh and blood would have been dead in that first meeting. Still, I was only dragging it out. Eventually, he would destroy enough of me and I would lose coherence and die.

Where was Sky? Why was I still alone?

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