Chapter seven:
"How is she?"
"We've been able to heal her injury. She'll probably limp a little for the rest of her life, seems like that's the only real side effect. But…"
"But what?"
"The psychological damage is more permanent. Textbook PTSD. Oh, and she's grieving. Keeps crying whenever she wakes up."
"Let me see her."
"She's resting. She's still not very-"
"Let me see her," I say again.
"Very well," the doctor (a human female called Gates) gives in easily. "Just a moment."
She leads me through the sick bay, which seems surprisingly unoccupied considering that the Rebel Alliance had just had its biggest battle since the Galactic Civil War. The reason was simple; nearly all of the refugees and soldiers from Tatooine had been loaded onto different ships. I think we even have a few medical ships in the fleet, though I 'm still a bit grey on all the details.
As far as I could tell my ship had been the only one to return to the Krayt. I had been whisked off to sick bay and then thoroughly debriefed by several Rebel officers including President Coy herself. Then it was back to existence as usual.
Menissa hadn't had any need of me; she said she had a great deal of material to work through from the recordings Edwin had taken. So instead of acting in holos, I lost myself in my studies.
I had told Thea about what I'd been able to do on the planet and she was very pleased. "The conflict and loss of life is, as usual, regrettable," She'd said, "But this shows you're making real progress. Sometimes force abilities are a gradual thing, but sometimes you get backed up into a corner and it all comes out. This is like the fourth or fifth time that's happened to you, according to what you say, and it sounds like you're closer than ever to controlling it. Now stand on your head."
Once my head was well and truly buzzing, I decided I'd rather visit my sister.
"We've healed her injuries to best of our ability," Gates tells me when we reach the doorway, "She just needs a lot of rest. Seeing you will be good for her, as long as you only take a few minutes." Gates lets me in and shuts the door behind me.
The room is small and simple, but not uncomfortable. I'm reminded of my own experience waking up on the Krayt after a traumatic rescue. Her face is dry and her eyes are bloodshot. Primith Evenstern lies on her back, staring up at the ceiling, the blankets drawn up to her neck. One might say the effect makes her look vulnerable, weaker, but all I notice was that she is taller than I remembered from living with her. She's been growing recently.
"Hello, little one," I say nonetheless.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" says Primith.
I sit down at her side on the bed. "What's that supposed to mean."
"You killed her," she says.
"Mother?"
She nods once.
"I didn't-"
"You did. It's your fault. You don't think, you just do, and what you do is hurt people and break things. All those troopers, the Empire, this whole war, it's all you. You in the Games, you started it all. It's your fault. You killed her."
"I wasn't going to disagree," I say, "I was going to say I didn't do it on purpose."
"I wish you never volunteered for me," Primith says quietly. "Then only I would be dead, and not thousands and thousands of other people across the galaxy. And mother would be alive. And she'd have you to take care of her, and you'd have your old life and you could still wander around the streets and steal cars and do drugs and make out with your friends instead of beat them bloody."
"You've been thinking about what to say to me for a long time, haven't you?"
"Yeah."
"Do you really mean it though?"
"No," she admits. "Maybe. Sort of. I don't know what to do with myself now. What to be. Life…"
"Life means nothing," I say. "Just pick something that you think is good and then do it. That's all there is. Passes the time, so you might as well."
"Did you think about that for a long time?"
"No," I say. "Well, maybe. Indirectly."
"That doesn't make me feel any better."
"It's not something you feel," I say. "It's something you don't feel, and that's the point. Or lack of point."
"You really are a Jedi," Primith whistles.
"I'm learning," I say (although I doubt Thea would agree with Primith's preconceptions on Jedi thought).
Primith squeezes my hand. "Don't leave me again."
"I thought you were mad at me."
"Of course," she says.
"I'll talk to…whoever's in charge of housing," I say. "You can stay in my quarters. I'll get bigger ones."
"They'll let you?"
"I'm kind of the Chosen One."
"Right," says Primith. "You don't seem any different to me."
"That's because I'm not," I say, and pull my comlink out of my pocket. "Want to see something cool?"
…
"That's pretty cool," says Zanna, watching intently as I levitate my comlink above my hand. I toss it up into the air and catch it.
"I like it," I say, putting the communication device back on my belt. Zanna and I sit across from each other in the miss hall, sparingly picking at our ration packs. I've always told myself that food is fuel, energy I needed to keep on running, keep on living, but sometimes I just wasn't hungry. That'd been happening more and more frequently of late.
"That's a nice little trick," Zanna says, "But I figure it means just about nothing compared to the stories I've been hearing about what you pulled off on Tatooine. Throwing ships out of the sky.
"Edwin must be talking," I say.
"I heard it from that Antilles girl actually," says Zanna, "But he's been talking you up too, I'm sure. How'd you learn to do that?"
"Practice," I say, "Studying a bit."
Zanna sips from her glass of red liquid. I consider but refrain from asking what it contains. "Studying what?"
I shrug. "Coy set me up with some teachings of the old Jedi order. They're a bit uptight about some things but they can sure teach a girl to float objects around."
"Maybe I could take a look sometime?" Zanna suggests. "I mean, all us victors are force-sensitive right? I might be able to learn a thing or too. I'd love to kill people with my brain." She pauses as a few Rebel soldiers pass our table on the way out of the mess hall, "Only bad people of course."
"Sure," I lie, "That might work." I've already decided I'm never sharing Thea with anybody. There's something about being the most powerful person in the room that just appeals to me.
I watch as most of the Rebel soldiers and crewmen leave the room, receiving orders over their communicators, their downtime interrupted. "I wonder if there's something going on." Zanna muses.
"There would have to be," I say, "I just wonder whether it's something that matters."
Neither of us says it, but the idea of an Imperial fleet catching up to us is a very poignant one. I try to focus, looking for the feeling and thoughts on the men leaving the room, trying to find what was going on. Some nervous energy, some excitement and a few images of Imperial ships are all I can pick up on before Zanna interrupts me.
"Did you get Fenric's holo?"
"It's not an attack," I say.
"What?"
"We aren't being attacked. It's something else," I say. "If we were being attacked, I could tell."
"I can't wait to read that Jedi stuff you've been looking at," Zanna gives me an odd look.
"Oh, and I didn't get his holo," I say.
"He said he called and you weren't in, so he left you a message," Zanna explained.
"How're things going for him?" I asked conversationally. Fenric was on his homeworld, some water-filled planet called Glee Anselm, with an undercover Alliance delegation, trying to convince his people to ally with the Rebels.
"Well," said Zanna, "He figures they'll be coming around soon."
Good. They wouldn't be the first, more and more planets, factions and companies were allying with the Rebel Alliance. The battle of Tatooine had become a PR disaster the likes of which the Empire hadn't seen since Alderaan.
"I'm carting off too," Zanna says after a pause and another bite (in that order). "That's partly why I wanted to see you today. Anything could happen. Just look at your family…uh, I mean, sorry." She finishes uncomfortably.
"No big deal," I say. "Where are you headed?"
"Fenric's not the only one with loyalties the Rebellion can exploit," Zanna says.
"The Falleen?" I ask.
"Not exactly," Zanna makes a face, which her reptilian physiology makes all the more distinctive. "A friend of a friend of a friend has some influence in sphere of great influence. So do my parents."
"Son of a bitch," I realize what she's talking about. "You're going to talk to Black Sun."
"Yeah. Just a bit," says Zanna. "I mean I know they're all dangerous and corrupt but-"
"Are you kidding? This is the best idea Coy's ever had. If there's one alliance that can really turn the war in our favor, it's with Black Sun." Sure, the criminal organization would slit your throat and rob you blind in a moment's notice (and usually in that order) but a little bit of credit and a whole lot of promises could go a long way. I knew their type. Hell, I was their type.
"Just be careful," I tell Zanna.
"Thanks. But I can handle myself pretty well."
"No, I mean be careful not to screw this up."
"Right. I'll handle that too."
My comlink chimes. I pick it up and levitate it against my ear (never gets old). "Hello."
"Kara," President Coy herself is on the other end. "Would you come down to the medical bay right now?"
"I was just finishing up," I say, "Is it-"
"Your sister is fine," says Coy. I'd been about to inquire about my own health, but I don't correct her. "If fact this isn't even bad news, not necessarily. Just something you should see."
"I'll be there soon," I say.
"Oh, and bring Zanna too," Coy hangs up.
I glance at Zanna. I'm learning how to pry into people's thoughts, sure, but I still have a ways to go till I can catch up to President Coy and her surveillance devices.
…
We find President Coy standing calmly in the medical bay, surrounded by doctors and soldiers. Doggs is the first to greet us, and he gives my hand a shake. I haven't seen him since we returned the Krayt together.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"We detected a single imperial ship drifting in our path," Doggs explains. "Crippled and defenseless, only the life support was intact. So we pulled it in."
"What did we find?" Zanna asks.
"Signs of a struggle," Coy joins the conversation, "The entire crew was killed. There was one living man on the ship, lying unconscious among the dead. It looked as though he killed them all."
"He wouldn't say?"
"He's some kind of coma, we haven't been able to rouse him," says one of the doctors. I think it was Gates.
"That's interesting," I say. "But why call us down immediately."
"Show them," Coy orders, and Gates passes over a datapad with a live video feed.
"Now that's a face I wasn't expecting to see again," says Zanna.
We see an unconscious Kiffar lying on the bed. Vaynich. Former victor from Tatooine, and my 'mentor' from the Force Games.
"Sometimes…people like you," Coy hesitates, I'm sure she almost said 'Jedi', "Are known to inhabit trance-like states. We figured a visit from his friends might have an effect on bringing him to greater consciousness."
"Friends might be a strong word," Zanna admits.
"We'll try," I say. I've never tried to use the force to wake someone up before, figure it'd be worth a shot.
"Gates, Doggs, accompany them," Coy orders. Gates leads us away to a door.
"This is a bit of a waste of time," She tells us quietly. "I've still got dozens of stimulant combos lined up that we haven't tried."
"Still," Doggs tells us, "The Chosen One tends to have a particularly surprising effect on her environment."
Vaynich lies on the bed within, breathing softly. There's stubble on his cheeks, and it looks as though he's lost a little weight. The Quarter Quell is good exercise. I stretch out my hands; feel for his energy with my mind. I reach down to touch his forehead-
His eyes snap open.
Vaynich launches from the table, throwing his bedclothes aside, his hands wrap around my neck. He squeezes, practically crushing my windpipe. He's strong; it's the strongest strangulation grip I've ever experienced.
Doggs leaps into action, and Vaynich hurls me aside. I slam into the wall, and watch as Vaynich grabs a handful of Doggs' face, and rips the blaster from the man's belt. I push myself away from the wall as he points the barrel of the blaster at me.
The gun goes off, but I'm already falling to the floor. The energy goes over my head and rips the side off Gates's face. She spins into the wall, leaving a long red smear as she slides to the floor.
Vaynich's next shot goes into the ceiling as Zanna forces his arm upwards, he strikes at her but Doggs catches hold his other hand, ignoring the blood streaming from his own nose.
Soldiers and doctors flood into the room, and a struggling Vaynich eventually drifts into peaceful unconsciousness with the help of several tranquilizers.
Coy looks down at me, doesn't offer me a hand up. "Seems you irritate him even more than I'd heard," she says dryly.