Chapter 11

Tama slowly emerged from the sickening fugue state between consciousness and awareness by the sound of metal grating against metal, producing a startling squeal that echoed hauntingly through the claustrophobic cell in which she was trapped. She raised herself weakly from the fetal position she had slumped into in the corner, her stained and moist clothes sliding against her dehydrated skin with an uncomfortable rasp of fabric. Her body ached throughout its entirety; her stomach had twisted itself into an unyielding knot, while a pervasive emptiness permeated her being. But these concerns fled her when she saw with both surprise and alarm that the door to her cell had opened, and silhouetted by the flickering red light above the door stood a tall, gangly figure. Her malnourished mind briefly believed she was looking at the disembodied skeleton of an unknown humanoid with an oblong head, but the figure stepped into the cell, and she identified it as a B1 Battle Droid, a relic of the Clone Wars. The automaton stumbled into the room on unsteady feet, its pitted, scoured, and patched plating suggesting multiple refurbishments by unskilled hands. The droid stopped in front of Tama's prone form, and a high-pitched, static elicited from its broken vocabulator. The droid carried no weapon that she could see, and she momentarily considered running past the droid and trying to escape through the open doorway, but just trying to lift her head to look up at the droid exhausted her. She had gone too long without food, and she never got more than an hour or more of sleep, due to the insane mumbling of her tormentor's disembodied voice echoing through her head. So she offered little in the way of resistance when the droid bent over, clasped metal fingers about her wrist, and began dragging her across the floor. Tama gave a soft cry of denial, but she could do little in her weakened state, and so her limp body slid across the wet and mossy floor and out into the hallway beyond.

The droid drug her along a dark corridor, the only illumination coming from flickering red glowstrips over a multitude of doors that were spaced frequently on either side of the passage. They appeared to be in a large structure of some kind that displayed extensive erosive decay, colonies of mold creeping across the floor and walls, water and vines dripping from the ceiling. The architecture, like her battle droid captor, was a relic of the Clone Wars, and the lack of decorations, the size of the supports along the wall and ceiling, as well as the severity of the hall's geometry, suggested some sort of military function. Is this an old Separatist base?

The droid paused in front of a door that was large enough to allow passage of three or four humanoids walking abreast. Its metal index finger reached out to tap a few buttons on the moldering panel beside it, and with a grumbling complaint, the doors split diagonally and disappeared into the walls, opening a large portal into the dark room beyond. The droid nearly jerked her arm from its socket as it hauled her forward, and unceremoniously skidded her across the floor. She slid about a meter before the floor dropped from beneath her without warning. She had neither the time nor the presence of mind to utter a cry of surprise before her fall became a sudden stop as she struck a metal floor. Her weakened body shuddered with the impact as pain lanced along her extremities, and she gasped for the air that had vacated her lungs so agonizingly. She curled into a fetal position again, small tears squeezing from her eyes as she gasped for air, gasped in pain. She lay there, breathing heavily, willing the pain to fade, to leave, trying to call upon the comforting flurry of sensation that was the Force to ease her suffering, and finding no concentration. No solace.

In a few moments, as the pain began to subside and her breathing became easier, she was aware of other presences about her. At first, she squeezed her eyes shut in fear, believing the voice to be returning to her head. But then she heard heavy breathing, whimpers, and sniffles, with her ears and not her mind. Tama forced her eyes open, and carefully pushed herself upon her palms and knees, kneeling in something slimy and barely registering it. She was in a dark space with dim illumination from directly above her; a quick look upward showed a single light hanging at least five meters above, encircled by dark, permacrete walls. She was at the bottom of a cylindrical pit of sheer walls, adorned with random spatterings of fungi and dark trails where water had run down their sides. In the pit with her were several sentient beings, all children of a variety of species, roughly an equal number of girls as well as boys. She recognized Rodians, Bothans, Twi'leks, humans, Duros, even an Arconan and a Nautolan. Some of them huddled together, for warmth or comfort it was difficult to say, but most had found their own spots to sit or lie against the curvature of the pit's walls, often casting suspicious glances in the direction of those present. All looked as terrible as Tama felt, their bodies shriveled, their eyes sunken and swollen, their torn and soiled clothing covered in grime, mud, and bits of mold. She had not voluntarily opened herself to the Force, but the pain, fear, and despair erupted from the children around her, assaulting her ears with discordant, dirge-like notes, her tongue with a sour, acrid taste, her nose with a stench like decaying corpses. The mental and spiritual anguish of the other children was almost more nauseating than the pain and malnourishment experienced by her physical form, and she instinctively tried to make her Force presence insignificant, just to save herself the others' anguish.

Tama slowly began to crawl out of the center of the floor, the other children watching her with a variety of expressions, as she was the latest to be thrown in the pit with them. She pressed herself against the cool, slick permacrete, then craned her neck to look upward, at the circle of light that signified the uppermost opening of the pit. She caught movement just at the edge of the pit, and another Battle Droid came into view, hauling a sizable bundle that gave a squeal as it was hurled down into the pit. Purely on instinct, Tama attempted to position herself in order to catch the girl being dropped into the pit, but her weakened state merely ensured that she was just underneath the girl. Pain shot through her injured, anguished form as she inadvertently used her body to break the newcomer's fall, and they fell in a tangle before gaining enough strength to extricate themselves from each others' ensnared limbs.

Tama was still gasping in pain when the girl turned to face her, soft apologies on her lips, giving the Twi'lek a good look at the teen she had tried to save more personal injury at the cost of her own pain. The girl was a Zabrak, with dusky red skin almost maroon in color, violet eyes, and black hair cut shoulder length, the crown of vestigial horns adorning her head peaking through the thick locks. That hair hung in greasy, stringy strands across her face and eyes. Her cheeks were sullen and hollow, her lips chapped and bleeding, her body little more than skin and bone. Her sunken eyes were dark with pain and lack of sleep, but some spark of life still swam in them, especially when she focused on the Twi'lek. She reached out a grimy hand, touching Tama's shoulder awkwardly. "Are...you okay? I—I didn't mean to land on you..."

Tama gave a weak cough, then pulled herself back against the wall. She looked up again at the top of the pit, stretching out timidly with her Force-enhanced senses. But she felt no more movement above, and she could not hear the telltale clank of the Battle Droid's metallic feet. She turned to face the Zabrak girl, who had sidled up beside her, drawing her knees up to her chest. Distantly, Tama noted that the girl appeared to be about her own age. "It's actually my fault," she answered hoarsely. It was painful even to talk, and she could not work up enough saliva in her mouth to wet her throat. "I tried to catch you, so you didn't have to hit the floor so hard, like I did." She gave a humorless chuckle. "Turns out being starved for a week or so does no wonders for your strength."

The Zabrak nodded, too tired and weak to even produce a similar expression of mirth. "I feel you. Stang, it's wonderful to talk to someone real again. All I've talked to in the last week is this insane voice that keeps rambling through my head...I think I'm maybe going crazy."

Tama shook her head, her lekku twitching limply. "You're not...crazy. I heard the voice, too. The voice of our kidnapper. It claimed...I was here for my 'sins', and this was to be my crucible."

The Zabrak girl gave a breathy sigh. "Damn. I was kinda hoping...I was crazy, an' this was all some nightmare. I kept hoping that none of this was real." She looked around at all the other children huddled in the bottom of the pit, some of them speaking quietly amongst themselves, others lying in stupors, and a few listening intently to Tama and the Zabrak's conversation. There was nothing else for them to do, after all. The Zabrak faced the Twi'lek. "I'm Nuri, by the way."

The Twi'lek nodded appreciatively. "I'm Tama. Pleased to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances."

"You and me both, pateessa."

Tama licked her lips; her tongue and lips both felt like the dirt of Yanibar. "Where...where'd they get you? Where do you come from?"

Nuri gave a shake of her head, her greasy locks slapping wetly against her neck. "Nar Shaddaa. My father's the captain of a spice freighter, and we had to stop to drop off a shipment for the Anjiliacs. Turns out they were interested in more than just the spice he was delivering." She ground the palms of her hands into her eyes. "I—I don't know if my dad's still alive...I don't know if they killed him..."

Tama could not help but put an arm around the girl's thin shoulders. She opened herself slightly to the Force, letting that touch evoke calming emotions in Nuri, a pitiful gesture meant to ease Nuri's suffering. Nuri sniffled a bit, but she seemed too exhausted to even produce actual sobs. The Zabrak rubbed her eyes a moment, then turned a concerned glance on the Twi'lek girl. "Where did you come from? Where's home?"

"Yanibar. Some slavers kidnapped me there, and I woke up...here, wherever here is."

Nuri crinkled her nose in thought. "Yanibar? I...I've never heard of it..."

"I don't think a lot of people have. It's a real Hutthole way on the Outer Rim. Lots of storms, voorcats, and it's hard to grow crops or even eke out a decent living, but it's home, I guess."

Nuri looked around the pit, scrutinizing the other prisoners and the slick, moldering walls. "Do you have any idea what planet we're on?"

Tama shook her head, her own eyes roving absentmindedly around her fellow prisoners. "I've no idea. I have never left my home before, so I know very little about other planets in the galaxy. I was hoping that you might know, being a spacer and all."

Nuri snorted. "I may have been to a lot of different worlds in my short life, but there are thousands upon thousands of them in our galaxy, and no one, not even the Emperor himself, knows about all of them, or visited them all." She ran her dirty fingers along a tiny colony of mold creeping down the wall, rubbing the spores sticking to her fingertips. "If I had to guess, though...considering the amount of plantlife and fungi I've seen in these ruins, as well as the temperature and humidity levels, I believe we're on some sort of jungle planet or moon. Which doesn't really help us much, considering how many of those there are out there...I mean, we could be on Thyferra, or Gobindi, or even Mrlsst." Her face paled as another possibility occurred to her, and she swallowed in fear. "Or we could be on Dxun. If that's the case, we are so farkled."

Tama could not disagree with that sentiment. Pash had told her some common spacers' tales regarding the Demon Moon of Onderon, tales that were usually told only in hushed whispers, or to elicit terror in the listeners. The possibility that they were on Dxun was now a very real concern for her, as it would probably explain the pervasiveness of the Dark Side and the overall corruption in the Force she felt on this world. She shivered involuntarily, craning her neck to look up through the pit's opening again, then dropped her gaze to those surrounding the pair, to the other children starved and scared by their unseen captors. Her brow furrowed as something alerted her within her subconscious, as if the sensory portion of her brain was attempting to draw her attention to something that was out of place in this situation. Or perhaps it was the Force whispering to her, urging her to pay attention to a hidden message or pattern right before her eyes. She concentrated on those around her, and she began to recognize similarities amongst the children gathered, despite the perceptual differences based on their species, expressions, and origins. She scooted over a little, farther from Nuri and closer to a Bothan male, who was busy picking at his fingers, as if there was a great treasure hidden beneath his nails. He looked up at her as she approached, then quickly ducked his head again, focusing on his claws.

"Hey," Tama called softly for his attention. When he did not immediately acknowledge her, she pressed on anyway. "Hey, how old are you?"

The boy gave her an angered, sidelong glance. "What's it to you?"

"I'm just curious. I'm Tama, by the way. I'm fourteen standard years old."

The Bothan boy continued to study his fingers, though the fur around his angular cheeks ruffled a little, displaying some sort of emotion Tama could not hope to interpret, due to her unfamiliarity with Bothans. "I'm only twelve."

Tama shifted her regard to a human boy across the pit from her. He also looked suspiciously like he was of the same age as the Bothan she spoke to. She then turned back to Nuri, and began studying the other girls languishing in the pit, all of whom appeared to be at least two years older than the boys, like herself and the Zabrak. She began calling to other children, asking their names, but more importantly, their ages. Nuri picked up on the Twi'lek's suspicions almost immediately, and questioned those nearest her with similar lines of inquiry. It was not long before they had asked such questions of all children present, and Tama felt both a moment of accomplishment, as well as a thick fist of dread clenching her stomach. "No matter the species, all the girls here are fourteen, and all the boys are twelve," she whispered to Nuri. "That can't be a coincidence. It means something...something important to whoever has put us here."

"But what?" came Nuri's predictable reply.

Tama's lekku twitched nervously, her tchin curling protectively about her throat. "I don't know. Nothing good, most likely."

Clever Tama. Pretty Tama. Evil Tama.

Tama reflexively mashed her palms against her ears, but the liquid wickedness of the voice was suffusing her mind, and was not the least bit audible. She saw most of the other children doing the same, some of them offering up wails of fear and pain as the barely coherent murmurings rang through their brains. "It's saying my name, again," Nuri moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. "Make it stop," she continued pleading to no one in particular.

Tama gritted her teeth and carefully opened herself to the Force, letting its enhancement of her senses and feelings turn inward, as if she were diving into herself, trying to find the calm center of her being, like Foyi had taught her. She could feel the fear and the anguish elicited by the voice, the sensation of despair and hopelessness it seemed to evoke by its mere existence. Even in her weakened physical state, she was still of the Zeison Sha, of the horrendous world of Yanibar. She was not a completely helpless child pulled out of a comfortable, pampered life and thrown into adversity and horror. She had faced adversity every day of her life in all its varied forms on Yanibar, from brutally hot summers to deadly, uncaring tempests to the heavy hands and blaster barrels of Imperial Stormtroopers. She refused to be intimidated. She refused to be mastered by her fear, to let her emotions rule her and thus drag her into the Dark depths of this diseased world and the insane mind plaguing all of them. With what strength she could muster, she sat up straight and looked up to the lip of the pit. "Get out of our heads, you crazy murglak! We haven't done anything to you, and we don't have to answer to you for anything we've done!"

There was a lengthy, tense, mental pause, and the voice came back, stronger and clearer than ever, echoing within the minds of all those present at once, leaving many of the weaker children rolling on the floor in mental agony. No no no no, not to me. To the Universe you must answer, for your sins are many and black and dirty and dark. But the Universe doesn't know, doesn't have it, so it must be the Shepherd. The Shepherd must save you all from the evil coiled within, the drochs of sin scratching, clawing under the skins to get out. The Shepherd cannot save you without feeling the darkness, cannot redeem your souls from your iniquities unless the evil has shown its ugly heads, its contorted, Shi'ido faces. No no no not again. We can't do it again, don't make us, don't hurt us. Blood on hands and blood in mouth, suck it all dry, eat all the darkness, swallow it whole and let it not evaporate in our bellies. This is your crucible, my patoggas. No good thing comes without pain, no redemption without the cessation of iniquity. You are in bondage to the darkness that clings to your backs, the Defels that haunt your steps, your second shadow of inky black and bloody darkness. You must pass your tests and tribulations, so that we might capture and contain your sins for you. Evil must come into the light. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come out for vengeance, for justice, for purity. It will be easier this time, my lovelies. Don't fret, close your eyes. We will be done soon, shhhh, shhhhh...

The voice was gone almost as soon as it had come; Tama did not know that silence could ring uncomfortably in her mind, but she had no other experience to compare to the sickening, discombobulating sensation that now plagued her mental state. She blinked rapidly, realizing that her vision had unfocused entirely, and the smudged circle of light that denoted the pit's mouth swam back into view. Her eyes caught movement at the lip of the pit, and the skeletal silhouette of a B1 Battle Droid appeared, tossing several small bundles down into the pit, packages too small to be the limp bodies of more children. The morbid possibility that they might be the wrapped body parts of a sentient being rose unbidden in her mind, but the parcels struck the permacrete ground, rolling and splashing through the miniscule puddles and rivulets of water crossing the floor. Those gathered collectively stared at the objects lying before them, most questioning whether they actually existed, whether this was a cruel twist of the nightmare they had been forced to live for days on end. For the objects appeared to be food. Mildewed rolls, ration packs stamped with the Old Republic's insignia, and blumfruit riddled with spores. But it was food nonetheless, perhaps the single greatest desire of all the children behind escape.

An Elomin boy with short, shriveled horns and a combination of anger, fear, and insane hunger etched into his face suddenly lunged forward, his grubby fingers closing around a torn loaf of bread, then began reaching for one of the ration packs. This was the catalyst for the majority of the other children to rush forward, scrambling for the few scraps that had been dropped into the pit. There was not even remotely enough food to feed all the starving mouths, however, and nothing substantial that would last any length of time, and everyone knew it. Days without food, proper sleep, or comprehensive nourishment suddenly boiled over into a ravenous scuffle, each prisoner attempting to grab as much of the precious sustenance for themselves. Even Nuri lunged toward the tumult, and thus began a shrieking, screeching melee of fists, claws, teeth, and shouts, the prospect of filling their bellies giving sudden violent strength to their weakened frames.

But Tama saw this for what it was. There had been a reason for their captor to keep them all without nourishment for so long, only to provide just enough for a single prisoner to have a decent meal. They were playing along with this psychopath's sick, twisted game. She swallowed to clear her throat, then shouted as best she could, "Stop! Stop fighting!" While the command came out in a barely audible croak, Tama summoned all her mental strength and concentration to call upon the Force, putting its endless power behind those words. Most of the children did not even hear her vociferation as intelligent speech, but they felt a sudden mental weight, as if the world they were upon was pressing down upon their bodies, halting their violent and destructive actions. The children ceased fighting, many of them sporting new bruises, lacerations, and injuries to their bony limbs and sunken faces. The Elomin boy was hurriedly swallowing half the loaf of moldy bread, while the Nautolan boy was hugging two ration packs to his chest, an Arconan girl mashing blumfruit in her fists. Even Nuri had seized one of the ration packs that had been torn open, a pair of nutrient bars spilling on the floor. All of the prisoners were now staring directly at her; the only reason they were still not trying to kill each other or devour the prizes they had snatched being the power of the Force Tama was exerting over them.

Tama tried to breathe evenly. She could hear the sounds of music, the melody of the cosmos that only came from the Unifying Force, but it was becoming more discordant, distant and subverted by the dark energies she sensed in the very soil of the planet about her. She could feel the heartbeats of the others in her own veins, taste their sweat and blood on the back of her tongue. She was not actively trying to control them or freeze their movements, but she was concentrating on sending calm, soothing thoughts into the surfaces of their minds, her power of suggestion like a cool breeze on the fires of their anger, pain, and desperation. It was all she could do to continue to keep them calm. She gritted her teeth, realizing she had not the energy or time to try a mind trick or Force persuasive technique on an entire group of people; her words would have to suffice. "Listen...please. Don't any of you see what's happening? Whoever or whatever has...kidnapped us all has spent the last several days, yammering in our heads about our sins, revealing our 'inner darkness'. He keeps us alone, afraid, starving, and suddenly throws us in a pit together with just enough food to feed a single person for maybe a day?"

The Arconan girl with the blumfruit looked down at the pulped fruit. "You think...it's poisoned?" The Elomin boy gave a fearful gulp, having just swallowed the bread stuffed in his mouth.

Tama shook her head, tiny pinpricks of sweat beading on her forehead. She was surprised she even had enough moisture for sweat to form at this point. "If he had wanted to kill us, he would've already done it. Some of us have been at this son of a barve's mercy for a week or more, so he's had plenty of opportunity to kill every single one of us. No, this..." She made a wide gesture vaguely indicating the near fight to the death that had just occurred. "This is what he wants. He wants us to act like animals, to act 'evil', to 'bare our sins' by hurting or even killing each other for food. He needs...justification for the crimes he's committed against us and who knows how many others like us. We can't give it to him...we have to keep fighting him, not each other."

"But, so...hungry," came the Nautolan's accented Basic, looking forlornly down at the ration packs he still hugged as if his life depended upon it.

"We all are," Nuri interjected, taking Tama's side. She held up the torn ration pack, carefully retrieving the nutrient bars and replacing them in the package, saliva thickening at the corners of her mouth. She turned to the Twi'lek girl with both concern and a shred of hope in her eyes. "What do we do, Tama? There's not enough food for all of us?"

"For each of us to have a meal? No. But for each of us to have a small amount of food, over the course of the next several days? Only if we share. Only if we work together. Only by sticking together, by fighting back and not letting this sleemo win can we overcome and survive this."

The expressions that greeted her words ranged between skeptical to angered to hopeful to resigned. Tama was too weak, too drained in all aspects of her being to continue her widespread Force suggestion. She could not compel any of them to forcibly split up the food into equal chunks so that all might survive. She could not deny a certain amount of selfishness motivating her pleas for reason, as she was not one of the fortunate few holding onto the consumables dropped into the pit. But her words and her proposal for cooperation not only made sense, but felt right as well. To think of the group, to protect and assist those in need, to defend the weak, was at the core of what it meant to be Zeison Sha. She hoped Foyi would be proud of her, wherever her sister was. Assuming she was still alive.

One by one, each of those who controlled the food nodded, and began to partition their prizes out so that each of the prisoners had a miniscule portion, but each one would be given the chance to feed themselves. The Elomin boy was the most reluctant to surrender his bread, but he did so when prompted, and even picked away the parts that contained mildew. Each of the children ended up receiving a tiny portion of the ration bars, a few crumbs of bread, and a slice of the blumfruit. Each scooped up their portions ravenously into their aching mouths, though Tama and Nuri had the sense of mind to eat theirs slowly, allowing their stomachs, which had become used to the lack of food, to once again become accustomed to the food sliding down their esophagi. After some brief discussion, it was decided that the remainders of the food would be stuffed into the ration packs in a meager attempt to preserve their only source of sustenance, then placed in the center of the pit's floor, where all could see it. It was their only known source of nourishment for the foreseeable future, and thus could not be trusted with any single person: it was too important, and each of them were too famished.

They were just finishing up their pitiful meals when the voice was back in their heads without warning, striking them all down with its dark, heavy presence, as if they had been collectively struck in their heads with blaster bolts. Foolish children! Foolish worms! it roared, dropping them all to their knees with migraines and mental agony, their minds threatening to break under the psychic onslaught. You claim no darkness, no sin, and yet you strive to protect it, to hug it close to your stinking, rotting bodies! You do not understand, no no no, we don't get it, we don't want it...This is your path to righteousness, the road to the light so few in Existence have the chance to walk! You defy your Savior, you defy us, mustn't resist, isn't healthy. Oh stars, why? Why in the galaxy? Whywhywhywhywhy? We have given you the chance to excise the sin from each other with claws and teeth and horns. Bring the darkness out...your kind are filthy with it, born with it, live with it, suckle from its breasts day in and day out. This was the first test, first first first of many, and you have all failed. Prepare yourselves, give up your darkness, confess your sins...your tribulations have only just begun, and the crucible will be satisfied in blood. Hypocrites, hssiss, everyone of you. Blood in the water, death of the posterity, it must come again, it must happen, the Universe demands it. Live for now, wallow in your darkness, but you will not be saved if you continue in your hypocrisy.

The prisoners slowly rose to haunches and knees as the voice faded, rubbing their skulls. More than one of them began sobbing, the hopelessness bearing down upon their spirits again. Tama let out the breath she had been holding involuntarily, and let the back of her head slump against the wall. Nuri mashed her hands into her eyes, rocking back and forth, mumbling incomprehensible words of fear under her breath. The group had shown courage in the face of fear, but the voice had reasserted the fact that it held their lives in its unseen hands. Tama forced herself not to devolve into tears, subconsciously reaching out into the void, across the galaxy, trying to find the familiar, calming presence of her sister. Foyi. Help. Please.

But all she felt was the Dark Side, and the stench of fear filled her nostrils until she could no longer find the strength to breathe.