Chapter three:
My mouth is dry when I wake up. I lie curled on my side and look into the darkness till my eyes adjust. I wonder if they're watching me now. President Coy or someone else; does the Empire know where I am? Who I am now?
Chosen one. When do I need to start acting? As soon as I start moving. I've got a role to play.
A high-pitched chime rings in my ears. I realize it's the door. I spill out of the bed and call, "Just a moment." I shut the door to my closet, and stuff my new towels under the bed. Then I pull on my pants, and open the door.
"Who are you?" I say.
A thin human boy, a few years my elder, stands outside my door. He's very pale, with light brown hair falling over his large blue eyes. He wears a white collared shirt and black pants. "My name is Edwin Garth, and I'm here to bring you in."
"Bring me where?" I ask.
"They want to put you in some commercials," he says. "I don't know why, I'm just the messenger."
"Oh, okay," I say. "Lead the way." I suppose my work as Chosen One is about to begin.
Edwin heads down the corridor, without even looking to see if I follow. I hurry after him. "So, commercials?" I asked
"Yes, for holoprogramming," he says. "Recruitment videos, political criticism, that kind of thing. The Rebellion has been doing it for years. Menissa says that the most important battles are won in people's minds, before they ever pick up a blaster."
"Menissa?" I ask.
"Only one of the coolest people ever," Edwin beams, "You've never heard of her?"
"I haven't been here long," I say.
"That's no excuse," says Edwin, "Menissa Tarya was a big holoprogramming director, writer, producer and actor, and then she defected to the Rebel Alliance. It was quite the scandal, the Empire covered up everything. She's heading up our advertising and graphic design division ever since. You'll love her."
"I'm sure I'll meet her," I say as we enter an elevator. "So are you like her gofer?"
Edwin looks affronted. "The word protégé is used much more often. She's going to teach me directing."
I figure he means directing the caff maker, but I decide not to piss him off just yet.
"Hello, by the way," Edwin takes my hand and shakes it, "What's your name?"
"Kara," I say. "Wait, you don't recognize me?"
"Should I?"
"The Force Games? I won in both of the last ones."
"I don't watch the Force Games," he says. The lift arrives, and we head down another corridor (wider than the last one).
"How…really?" I've never met anyone who said that before, "Isn't that like taboo?"
"Not if you were born in the Rebellion," he says, "I've lived my whole life here, with this cause. We don't like the Force Games much here. They're disgusting."
"Some of the dialogue is pretty laughable," I admit.
"I mostly just watch Menissa's old stuff," says Edwin, "As everyone should. Her dialogue is great, and all the character stuff is really good."
"I'll bet it is," I say.
"Well, we're here," Edwin stops at a large white door. The plague next to the door reads 'STUDIO #2.' "This is just part of our operation, we've actually got a huge range of broadcasting apparatus in here, and we can hack into all kinds of airwaves, crash the systems of whole star ships with raw data. Soon it's going to be data all about you."
"Oh, joy."
The door slides open with a hiss and I follow Edwin through into one of the most underwhelming settings I have ever anticipated.
I know this was the Rebellion, not the height of the Empire's entertainment industry, but I'd been expecting there to be some kind of set or backdrop. Maybe a water feature. Instead, all I see is a blank white room. Walls, ceiling, floor. The half of the room by door is populated by tables filled with machinery, harsh white lights, and a dozen men and women tending to both of them.
"Ah good, welcome Miss Evenstern," a human female approaches, addressing me cheerfully. "We're almost ready."
"Menissa, I presume." It's not a question. I can tell it's her; just by the way Edwin's eyes light up. I reach out my hand to shake. Instead she takes me by the shoulders, and kisses me lightly on both cheeks. I can see why Edwin likes her: her black leggings look like they've been sprayed on, and the neck of her teal top is cut in a V that almost stretches lower than her breasts. She wears it like a uniform, a professional. This is a woman who understands that men like to look as much as touch. I imagine she uses both motivators to her advantage.
Menissa is younger than I pictured, only a few years older than Edwin. She has big eyes, a button nose, and small lips. Her features look like they've been carved out of stone, or at least sculpted by a surgeon. Her red hair gleams with product, and her boots add several inches to her height. "I'm glad you could make it," she says. "You look almost as photogenic in person as you do in the Games."
"You too," I try to say something amiable. "You look photogenic…I mean."
"That's very gracious, but I haven't the face for it."
"I don't believe that," Edwin admits.
"Well, not till recently," Menissa raps him smartly on the arm. When they stand closely, I notice Edwin is just tall enough to look right down her front. He realizes it too.
"I'm new at this," I tell Menissa, gesturing around, "But don't you want to put like a potted plant over there or something."
"Oh no," Menissa waves a hand dismissively, "We do all that digitally in post. You just need to stand there and look gorgeous."
"I'm not bad at the first," I admit.
"I'll bring the second," Menissa winks. She snaps her fingers, and a woman with a datapad appears out of nowhere to flank her. "Get her ready," Menissa orders her.
"I've got some specs to go over," Menissa tells me. "I'll be just over there if you need me. Edwin, you're with me."
I watch her chatting with Edwin, as Menissa's aide leads me to a corner of the room. It's been a while since I've met someone who plays people the way I do. I don't make grand plans like Coy or Palpatine; I just do the little things. I wonder if Menissa's little dance is as obvious to anyone other than me.
Before I volunteered for my first Force Games, I'd hardly ever worn makeup. It had never been a priority. I figured I could do everything makeup could with a wink, a roll of the shoulders, and some soothing emotional projection. So hadn't bothered. But when I was attending events as a victor, it was makeup all the time. Powder on my checks, sparkles around my eyes, and fake lashes I could practically use to pick things up. That was just my face. I was all too prepared to be stripped, waxed and oiled just like the old days. No such poor luck. I just get a bit on my face to make me look better under the lights, or so the woman jabbing her fingers at my eyes explained.
After that, I am given a costume. I change in a temporary booth that had been provided in the corner. I dress in rough tan trousers and a tunic with flowing sleeves in the same color over a white sleeveless top. There are brown boots and a wide brown belt. The tan clothes are scratchy against my skin, reminds me of the peasant stuff I used to wear back on Tatooine. I didn't miss it. Function is most important attribute of clothing, but discomfort can be distracting, and distraction decreases functionality.
I walk back over the Menissa, who is pacing in a circle, reading off a datapad. "They said I'm ready," I announced in her direction.
"That you are," she says appraisingly, looking me up and down. "That will do."
"Awesome," Edwin judges. He's sitting in a chair and has a glass of water in his hand. "You look like a Jedi."
"Oh, is this how they dress?" I ask. On second thought, I think I've seen some holos before. Just not many. My holocron Thea was a Jedi now that I thought of it. "No wonder they're so ill-tempered."
"Don't read a lot of history, huh?" Menissa looks at me oddly. "Peace, brotherly-love and all those teachings?"
"I've been a little busy," I admit.
"Well…go stand over there," Menissa points over to the white undecorated side of the room. I follow her instructions.
I follow in her instructions. I walk over and stand a few feet from the wall. I turn to face Menissa. The equipment around her begins to hum more intensely. "And…" she announces loudly, "action!"
There is only inaction. I stand and they stare. "What am I supposed to do?" I ask.
"Cut," Menissa sighs dramatically. "Okay," she calls to me, "Didn't you get briefed on what we were recording?"
"Not particularly," I say.
"Edwin," Menissa rolls her eyes dramatically.
"Sorry, other things came up," Edwin says sheepishly.
"Alright," Menissa walks over to me. "Were making some inspirational speeches. You're going to talk about your past, about the Empire, about the Rebellion, all that stuff. Nothing too long, all from the heart. Remember when you were on the Victory tour?"
"Yeah," I say, "Should I do a speech like that?"
"No way, too rehearsed. Yuck." She talks very fast, punctuated with vigorous hand motions. "Except for that one speech, the one at the Twi'lek place. That was sexy. Many feels."
"Do you have any kind of script?" I asked.
"No script, man," Menissa kicks at the ground, "From the heart. You have heart. Soul. Talent. Love. At least that's what they say in the tabloids. Be spontaneous. Be creative. Spread your little wings and fly!"
"Uh. Okay," I say.
"We ready?" Menissa asks. Her gaze goes right over my shoulder.
"I'm ready," I nod. "Just one more question?"
"Shoot."
"Are you absolutely sure we don't we need some kind of scenery?" I point at the white wall behind me.
"No, no, don't worry about that," Menissa heads back to her chair. "Now. Let's do this. Talk to the audience, love your audience. Be spontaneous." She sits, clears her throat, "And…action!"
It still takes me a moment to begin speaking. "Hello. My name is Kara Evenstern."
"Cut!" Menissa yells. "That's beautiful! I'll take it!"
"But I haven't really done anything yet," I point out.
"It's good," says Menissa. "We can use that part, even if the rest is crap. We'll edit it together in-"
"Post-production," I finish for her. "M'kay. I said my name. What do you want me to say next?"
Menissa shrugs, "What's the next most important thing?"
I take my position again, and she calls for action. I look right into the holorecorder. "I am the Chosen One." There is a dramatic pause.
"That was lovely," Menissa says. "I got chills all over. But I'm starting to think that a little more makeup around the eyes wouldn't go amiss…"
…
It goes on. Action. Talk. Cut. Repeat. I don't even really know what I'm saying after a while.
"That's why I hate the Empire." Cut
Action. "I will find a way to tear them down so that I can…save people. Yeah, that's it." Cut.
Action. "I will bring balance to the force. I'm learning how. I need your help. Not to help me learn, that is, I'm good there. I mean to fight the Empire." Cut.
Action. "Fight the Empire! Fight for your families! Fight for your future!" Cut.
Action. "Freedom!" Cut.
Action. "Enlist in the Rebel Alliance today." Cut and that's a keeper. That's what Menissa says at least.
We break to drink caff. The crew eats MREs shaped like pastries. I stand in the corner and watch them socialize. I say nothing; none of them talk to me. Until Menissa walks up, "I think we've gathered enough sound bites for our ads for the moment," she says. "When we get back we're going to try something different."
"Just tell me what you'd like," I say.
"Good. Good girl," says Menissa happily. "I'd like you to tell the audience your story. Just start at the beginning and lay it out until you got here. Don't hold anything back, just talk it out. We'll see what we want to use in post."
"Okay…" I say, but she's already across the room, showing Edwin a panel on a big cylindrical machine. I finish my caff in one swig. It burns the back of my throat raw.
I get a chair this time, a hard plain one. I cross my legs at the knee. "Action!" Menissa calls.
I take a deep breath and start lying. "Volunteering for the Force Games was the hardest decision I've ever had to make."
This is not the truth. I tell what happened, but only a reflection of it. Not what I'd see a mirror, but what someone might see if they saw me look in a mirror. I do what Coy would want. I make myself sound good and the Empire sound bad. I tell them about Perrin but not how I alone am responsible for his death. I give the details on how the Empire threatened me and hunted me down in the desert, but not the details on how they provided for my family and sent me to college. I tell about Osca, but not the Osca I think of as my friend. She worked for the Empire, so that made her one of them.
"As the arena fell away behind us, the man looked at me and said 'Welcome to the Rebel Alliance'," I say. "And I knew I was home."
"Great stuff," Menissa calls out. "Now how long have you known you were the Chosen One?"
"Vaynich told me more about the Jedi," I say, "The Empire sometimes likes to sweep their good qualities under the rug. But in a way, I think I've always known that I could accomplish great things."
"Yes!" Menissa jumps to her feet. "That was it, right there. We got it."
"What's it?" Edwin asks her.
"Don't interrupt me," Menissa chides. "In any case. We're done for today. We'll do more later. It's been fun."
"So I'm free to go?" I get up from my chair.
"Sure," says Menissa. "We'll ring you up when we want to shoot more stuff."
"Alright," I say, and leave the room. I yawn several times before I reach my quarters. However, once I'm back I power up my holocron first of all.
Thea flickers into existence just above the box. "Hello, apprentice," she says graciously. "Shall we continue our training?"
"It's your training too?"
"I learn a lot from my students," Thea shrugs.
"What kind of things?" I wonder aloud.
"Mostly patience," Thea admits.
"Can you teach me how to move things with my mind now?" I ask.
"No," says Thea, "Patience is the thing. Meditation first."
"First, as in during this lesson, or as in: maybe levitation in a year?"
"If you were patient enough to be a Jedi it wouldn't matter to you."
I'm not sure I believe her, but I sit and cross my legs nonetheless. I don't need Thea to tell me how to manage my breathing. I've done this before. I guess I'm doing it correctly, because she doesn't stop me.
The silent inaction and the darkness behind my eyelids is a nice contrast to my holo-recording experience earlier that day. I try to clear my mind, think of nothing. But I'm not sure what that means, so I think of blackness.
It feels as though I've only been meditating a few moments when the door chimes.
I rouse myself from my meditation and get to my feet. I look for Thea, but the projection of the Jedi is nowhere to be seen. I stash the Holocron beneath my bed and open the door.
I stand there a moment, my mouth slightly open. The last time I'd seen him he'd been trying to kill me while the arena had been falling to pieces around us. "May I come in?" He asks.
"Sure."
Fenric looks around my room curiously, and sits down on my bed. He slides the backpack from his shoulders. The green-skinned Nautolan is just as well built as I remember. His t-shirt has the Rebel symbol emblazoned over his left pectoral. I still think of my pendent when I see it; the one Galen gave me a life and a half ago. Or was it a year. Something likes that.
"So you've enlisted?" I point at his chest.
"Been drafted more like," Fenric admits, "But I'm good with it. I'm like a blaster. I do what I do; I just need to be pointed in the right direction."
"So…" I sit on the floor across from him, "Why the hell did you come here."
"I want to apologize," Fenric says, "For almost killing you and…yeah that's about it. I really do regret it."
"It was the Games," I wave a hand. "It's past." I still promise myself I'll never turn my back on him.
"Nevertheless," Fenric opens his backpack. "I figured I'd like to make it up to you. Not that I can, but this'd still be nice." He pulls a narrow bottle of amber liquid from the pack, along with two small glasses.
"Looks nice to me," I sniff. "I haven't had any alcohol since Coruscant…"
"Me neither," Fenric says. "Someone gave me this though, found it beside my bacta tank. Even in the Rebellion I have fans."
"Don't take it personally," I say, "You're not the only one."
"So I've heard," he wrests the cap from the bottle with a hiss. "The chosen one, huh?"
"Yeah," I say. "I am."
"Who'd have thought," Fenric pours a pair of glasses. "You seemed a normal enough girl to me. A little psychopathic sure, but that's just cause we're tributes."
"That was your mistake," I reach out to take a glass. "I'm very psychopathic." I take a sip, and nearly choke as the alcohol catches in my throat. "Oh, that's good."
"Did you know that the Rebels were going to attack?" Fenric asks, "That they were going to save us?"
"I had no idea," I say.
Fenric seems pleased with this. He takes a sip. He looks as though he's going to say something, but then he takes another drink instead. I follow his example. Before long I have an empty glass. I hold it out, and Fenric refills it without saying a word.
We make it through the rest of the bottle. It feels like only minutes Fenric take my glass and packs up everything he brought. "Thanks," he says. "Of everyone here you were my first choice to share a quiet drink with."
"Of all the people who offered me a drink, you were the only one I took up on," I say.
"I was the only who offered too?"
"Yeah."
"So this girl," Fenric says, leaning back on my bed. "The one you told me about in the arena. We're you two…are you serious?"
"We're consummated, if that's what you mean."
"'Kay," says Fenric. "Just wondering."
"You were wondering if you were going to ask me to dinner." I read him.
"We'll never know, will we?" says Fenric.
"You will, because you would've been wondering it," I point out.
"Have a good night Kara," Fenric stands. "And may the odds be ever in your favor."
"May the force be ever in yours," I say as he leaves.
"That's a relief," Thea appears, floating above my bed, directly over where I'd placed the holocron beneath it. "I thought he'd never go."
"Were you listening the whole time?" I ask.
"I'm always listening," Thea says. "Want to know how many times you swallowed?"
"I'd rather leave that to my own imagination," I say.
"Good job, by the way, sending him off," says Thea. "You're a Jedi now, and Jedi keep it in their pants."
"So I am a Jedi."
"An apprentice one, yes," says Thea. "Now, let's get meditating! I'd like you to try one standing on your head."
"How about lying on my bed?"
"I guess that could do for now."