Chapter 7

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'The Encounters'

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The alarm sounds. Dantius lays motionless in his bed. The voice on the alarm speaks. Dantius is agitated and he buries his face in the pillow. There is no recollection of how he got back to his dorm room. His last memory was heading down the dark cobblestoned street to the cross bridge. He seems to be developing a pattern because, once more, he wakes up fully clothed in his own bed.

Upon his return to campus in the dead of night, Dantius lumbers off the tram. He is the last passenger. The tram operator eyes him from his rearview mirror. The student appears drunk perhaps. Dantius is hunched over like a Mos Eisley Cantina patron during last call. The tram operator should know. He used to be a pilot years ago. The missions, however, became increasingly dangerous with the Hutts, Trade Federation, and the Mining cartels strong-arming everyone.

After saving enough money, he chose retirement back home on Naboo rather than risk seizure of his ship by warring factions and confiscation of his credits by the corrupt 'clientele.' He enjoyed being a tram operator; it lacked the adventure and lucrative income of a pilot but he made friends of the daily passengers. He did not mind changing to the nightshift either. The late night customers were a scrappy sort. Then there were the students. This group was generally problem-free, with the exception of a few of the fraternity houses. He had to put a few off the tram on a couple of occasions. He was older but he could stand up for himself and the students knew it.

He never saw student passengers pass one o'clock in the morning though. That is why he became curious about this lonely, sullen-looking student sitting in one of the double seats near the front. He never had one ride all the way to Bassa Ridge either. This was a first. It had to be a cruel fraternity prank, but why only this student? Anyway, it was not up to him to figure it out. All he had to do was to deliver an empty tram to the depot.

The tram operator keeps a wary eye on the student during the return to Theed University City. He tries to get a good look at his face. The hood of his down coat obscures it. Upon the return trip to Theed, the driver glances up at his mirror. He presses the signal stop.

"Hey! You okay back there, kid? Last stop. I'm going to the depot."

Dantius rises from his seat and lumbers to the front of the tram. Without turning to the driver, he steps down and exits the tram.

When Dantius arrives at his dormitory building, he is tired and in too much pain to pull open the front door. It is after hours, and the automatic door mechanism deactivates after midnight. A guard rises from behind his post to get a better look at the person at the door. Dantius has never uttered more than two words to the guard since his arrival on campus freshman year. The guard never heard the words 'good morning' from the student, not since he has been guard at this dormitory. His name is Officer Frank Jarman. Frank does recall a rude 'excuse me' as Dantius brushed by him one morning on his way to class. It was in to tone of 'Get out of my way you lowly peasant.' To Dantius, the man does not exist, not important enough or of any use to the student.

The middle-aged guard with the push-broom mustache and stocky build slowly walks to the door. After giving Dantius the obligatory security 'once-over,' he unlocks the door then lets him inside. The guard shows some mercy on him. He could have, and had every reason to torment this student by making him suffer outside in the cold for a few minutes longer, but he thought nothing good would come of it.

This boy of privilege must not be very happy. The guard lives a humble life in the working class section just outside of Theed. He has a loving wife and three children all close to Dantius' age. His children have great friends and enjoy life. He feels superior in many ways. Being titled and wealthy does not always equal happiness. He takes the higher ground. This poor soul may need his help.

Frank does not grill Dantius, nor does he demand to see any form of identification. It is mandatory for students to swipe their data cards after midnight. He could see the boy's face as the glare of the desk lamp. What a pitiful sight. Frank could see the injuries, minor bruises but there were a lot of them. He must have been assaulted. His first thought was that this is the work of one of the fraternities. Hazing was strictly forbidden on campus. He did not care for Dantius and his snobbish ways, but he was not even deserving of this.

"Are you okay to get upstairs?"

There is no answer. Dantius looks as if he will tip over at any moment.

Frank releases an exasperated sigh. He never imagined he would have to help this miserable soul standing in front of him. He does not want to be alone when and if he decides to do this. Fortunately, his relief is walking up the steps to the building. It is the daytime guard Brutus Howell. He is a tall fair-haired man, about ten years younger than Frank. His kind round face can be misleading. He is quiet but takes no nonsense from anyone, especially the students on campus.

Brutus is early. Brutus uses his data card to let himself inside the lobby. He notices the look on Frank's face as they eye one another. Frank looks relieved to see him.

"You're a sight for sore eyes."

The strange greeting momentarily humors Brutus until he sees Dantius. Brutus thinks it is just another drunken student left on the doorstep as a casualty from a frat party. He sees differently as he walks over towards the two.

"Well, well, what have we got here?"

"Looks like he's been roughed up."

"He's a mess."

"Brut, do me a favor; before you go to the break room would you wait here while I search this kids' coat for his room card? As a precaution…never know with these kids. Next thing you know, they're suing you for attempted robbery or who knows what else."

"Sure thing, Frank. He looks catatonic."

"Humph! We'll see." Frank keeps his eyes on Dantius as he searches the coat pockets for the data card. Frank could get to the floors with his security card but not to individual dorm rooms. Dantius looks as if he is coming around. Frank locates the data card. "You want to go to the infirmary? Droid medic is on duty right now."

"No."

The droid medics are usually on the graveyard shift. Dantius has an acute aversion to droids and non-humans. He would as soon die before subjecting himself to be examined by one. Frank sees that he is alert enough to refuse this offer to seek medical treatment at the Theed Student Health Center.

"Okay, pal, let's get you upstairs."

Brutus walks to the elevator with them. The sensor on the wall panel activates as soon as they stand in front of the elevator doors.

"Hey, Frank, you want me to go up with you? What if he collapses or sumpthin'?"

"I got it. You stay here and operate the front desk. Bound to be trouble if no one is on duty in the lobby."

"Call me on the COM if you're in a bind."

:"Sure thing."

The elevator door opens. Brutus waits as Frank leads Dantius inside the waiting car. As the door closes, Brutus looks up at the floor display as the elevator makes its way up to the floor. He pivots on the heel of his shiny black regulation security guard shoes and sits behind the desk.

The shift for Brutus does not usually start off this way. After stopping into the security break room for a cup of jawa, he enjoys sitting with Frank and chat about the current events of the day. They are known to get into some heated debates but they have a great respect for one another. He will have to wait until Frank returns.

Meanwhile, upstairs Frank walks Dantius to his dorm room. He leaves as soon as he unlocks the door and places the data card on the bookshelf near the entrance. Frank leaves Dantius for find his own comfort. As far as Frank is concerned, the student can sleep on the floor. He is not about to enter further into the room.

Once back downstairs at his station, Frank reaches over the desk and grabs the log. He writes a note about the incident. This may become an embarrassment to the student but Frank could not, in all good conscience let this go unreported. Brutus is sitting behind the desk reading the student news.

"Did you know that this university has a Plasma lacrosse team?"

"Do I look interested?"

Brutus lowers his paper and looks at Frank.

"So, how did it go? Did 'his lordship' get settled in okay?"

"I suppose. He is in his room."

"You're right. That's all you're expected to do."

Brutus gets up and switches to the chair at the side of the desk. Frank sets the activity log back on the desk then takes his seat. He opens up his copy of the Naboo Times. He has two hours left before the shift change. Brutus finds this to be the perfect moment to go to the break room for his cup of jawa. After that, he and Frank can enjoy their usual discussion about galactic politics and sports. By dawn, the students will be awake and preparing for class.

Dantius makes his way from his bed to the shower. The warm water feels comforting. He searches the medicine cabinet for sterile gauze. His fingers were blistered from exposure to the cold. His body aches from the thrashing he took earlier that night. However, this is not the time for self-pity. He has a class to attend.

During his exit from the dormitory, he passes the security desk. A protocol droid is stationed at the front desk. Brutus is taking a 15-minute break. Frank has changed into his civilian clothes. His lunch tote is in his hand and he is wearing snow boots. There is a fresh dusting of snow on the ground as he looks through the glass doors. The automatic sensor is reactivated now. The doors open as a few students head out to practice rowing on the Solleu River. It is not yet frozen but cold nonetheless. 'It builds character' claims their coach.

Dantius looks at Frank with the slightest passing glance. He gives what appears to be nod. The past several ours are still a blur to him but he knows that the security guard played a part in helping him. It is difficult for Dantius to show true gratitude. He does not want to send the wrong message. They are not of the same social rank.

He keeps walking and steps outside to make his way across campus. Brutus, clutching a mug, steps out of the break room to say goodbye to Frank. He sees Dantius making a trail in the snow towards his class. Brutus watches as Frank rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"Poor kid. He's a miserable S.O.B."

"You think he's just going to turn from miserable kid to miserable old man?"

"Yup."

Brutus chuckles softly before turning and heads back to his station. He powers off the protocol droid.

Plagueis begins his class. He makes a point of ignoring Dantius and his tardiness. The clique of Muun students occupies the first two rows of the small amphitheatre classroom. The only free seat is in the first row, the last seat on the left side. This is worst moment for Dantius today. He usually wants to sit in the front of the class. This is not one of those times.

He does not want anyone to see that he is limping but it cannot be helped. He has to make his way down the steps pass stares from his classmates. He knows that Plagueis made sure that this was the only available seat when Dantius arrives. He could feel it.

Dantius tries to be as quiet as possible; he has already drawn too much attention as it is. His suffering does not end here. Plagueis calls on him several times just to torment him. Even when other students, especially the eager Muuns volunteer their answers, Plagueis calls his name. Dantius fumbles through his textbook and notes. The professor clears his throat.

"Mr. Palpatine, I trust you will find this discussion worthy of your full attention."

"Yes, professor."

"I am glad of that. While you were taking your time to join us this morning, we were discussing suffering and death. What can you tell me of philosopher Dak Ramis' view on suffering?"

"Uhm…He believed the only proof of self is when one suffers."

"Do you agree?"

"Of course."

"But what of those who know no suffering?"

"Those individuals cannot truly appreciate the full meaning of life."

"Could you state some examples?"

"Examples, professor?"

"Yes. Surely with your infinite knowledge you can point to some relevant figure in present day society…"

"That thought could be applied to anyone."

"Anyone?"

"It's relative."

Dantius continues to explain how everyone can claim that he or she has suffered at some point of his or her life but it is the type of suffering, and how he or she deals with it, which is important. This, he says, determines the validity of their suffering.

Plagueis cuts him off.

"Suffering is the same for a soldier in battle. A soldier knows there is a chance of injury or death when he engages in battle. A person going on a leisurely walk does not go expecting harm or death to befall him. Surely, they all suffer the same? Your theory is not valid."

"Why not?"

"You have not proved your point. Why would you believe such a thing?"

"Because…"

Waiting…"

"It's because…"

A sigh of defeat follows as Dantius feels all eyes in the room are on him. Plagueis paces in front of the interactive plasma blackboard. He points his slender index finger to his pointed chin. He speaks in a calm but condescending tone.

"My dear, Mr. Palpatine, did you even read and analyze the chapter in the textbook? It is required reading you know."

Dantius is on the defensive. He sounds less confident but repeats himself with an air of conviction.

"I did read…I did read it. A person stranded on the tundra of Hoth has an expectation of living. A soldier will die in battle after suffering great injury."

"Is that all you learned from reading the chapter? Your theory is all wrong. You are speaking nonsense." He mocks him again in a soft almost musical voice. "But, professor, my theory bears it out." Perhaps if you spent more time studying and getting a good nights' sleep, you would have better clarity in your thoughts."

This elicits nervous giggles from the classroom. Dantius is growing agitated. The humiliation is too much. Suddenly, and without warning, the put upon student lets loose a string of expletives in a tirade that stops the class. The students who were giggling are now quiet. An unsettling feeling fills the room. Dantius slams his textbook closed, grabs his rucksack and storms up the steps. His long down coat makes a rustling sound as he walks out of the class. The doors slam behind him.

Dantius paces down the path from the building fuming like a man possessed. He crosses the campus and walks into the Student Center. Adso and Chaz, the mailbox-stuffing duo, are standing behind the counter enjoying a goodhearted laugh about nothing of consequence. Dantius is so paranoid, however, that he is certain that he is the target of their laughter. He unlocks his mailbox and pulls out a wax-sealed envelope. He quickly breaks the seal. The note inside is written on official university stationery: It is from the dean's office. He begins to read.

'Please report to the dean's office immediately.'

He wonders to himself: "Could they have gotten a complaint already?" He is in for it now. His secret life off campus will be exposed. His parents are going to be devastated. What would be his defense? He could claim mental anguish from the grueling course load. His emotions got the best of him when he verbally insulted his professor. No, he is too vain to admit to any sort of mental deficiency, true or feigned. He is livid. How dare Plagueis humiliate him in that class? Dantius is so furious he imagined various ways of killing the masochistic professor. Bludgeoning came to mind, smothering him in is sleep is even more intriguing. Unfortunately, he does not know where the good professor lives. Bummer.

He stops fantasizing for a moment and continues to examine the envelope as he walks slowly towards the exit.

The secretary in the deans' office is busy with the phones today. The school is expecting a royal visit from Theed Palace. Neatly placed stacks of invitations to the event are on her desk. Mrs. Brooks is an attractive but serious-minded woman in her forties. Her auburn hair frames a thin heart-shaped face. A pair of horn-rimmed eyeglasses rest on the tip of her small nose. A chain made of Geonosis topaz and crystals beads hang from the eyewear to keep them around her neck when not in use. She notices someone hovering near her desk as she is on a call.

Mrs. Brooks regards Dantius above the rims of her glasses as he stands at her desk. She was expecting him but finds his presence disturbing. As Mrs. Brooks completes her call, she is about to tell him, in a firm but tactful manner to be seated, but then she sees the bruises. Mrs. Brooks reaches for the phone again and dials. She flashes a firm but concerned smile.

"Hello, Dantius. Why don't you remove your coat and have a seat in one of those chairs, dear? The dean will be with you shortly."

Mrs. Brooks waits for the dean to take her call. She looks up at Dantius who has not budged from the desk.

"Dear, you may sit down over there." She points to the row of hardback Endor mahogany chairs. Dantius finally turns and slowly walks over to the chairs. He selects one close to the entrance and sets his rucksack in the chair beside it. Mrs. Brooks glances over at him then speaks in a soft voice over the handset. "He's here…Dantius Palp…yes…yes, sir."

Dantius has barely settled in the chair when the door behind the secretary's desk opens. A man about 70 years old stands in the doorway wearing his university robe over his suit. His silky white hair and feathery eyebrows give him an imposing appearance. He sees Dantius, still in his bulky down coat, slouching in the mahogany chair. The dean finally speaks in a haughty but quiet voice.

"Ah, young Mr. Palpatine, good, you're on time. Come in….leave your things; you won't need them for our little 'chat'."

Dantius leaves the rucksack in the chair and walks pass the desk where Mrs. Brooks is sitting. The heavily insulated coat makes a swishing sound as it brushes against the side of the desk. He steps inside the office. Mrs. Brooks and the old man exchange glances as they watch the troubled student step inside. Mrs. Brooks shrugs her shoulders then tends to the stack of blue envelopes on her desk. The retreats inside his office and closes the door. A brass plate on the door reads, 'Charles W. Kingfield, Dean of Students.'

To be continued…