Chapter 7: Ilyana
Merrin, Greez and PT-152 wind their way through the other ships docked at the spaceport and towards the main road into town. Not including the spaceport, the town itself is small with a central market making up the majority of the sprawl. The market itself is only a short walk down the sand blown main road, almost the only road, which is lined with shops that provide services for pilots and transports such as mechanics, repair services and parts.
"We'll need to stop into a few of these shops for parts but it will be a lot to carry so we'll do that on the way back," says Greez, more to himself than the others. "I wonder if any of them would deliver to the Mantis."
"What did you say your…number is? Did you call it a designation?" Merrin asks.
"Yes, my designation is PT-152."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I am the 152nd person assigned to the Purge Trooper Division."
"Does that mean there are at least 152 Purge Troopers?" asks Greez.
"Not necessarily," PT-152 says, "that means that at least 152 were assigned. The first Purge Troopers were clones but I believe the last of them were killed on Mon Cala. Since then, very few applicants actually complete the training and become Purge Troopers. Once assigned, the work is high risk and life expectancy is low. Most of the other applicants I trained with have already been killed."
"That's good news anyway," says Greez.
"As I understand it Cal has defeated more than a few himself," PT-152 continues, choosing to not take Greez' comment personally.
"Yes, he has," Merrin confirms.
"So what you're saying is a Purge Trooper doesn't get retirement benefits," Greez says with a chuckle, amused by his own joke.
"No, we do not," PT-152 agrees.
"It's hard losing friends though," Greez says, thoughtfully.
"Friends?" PT-152 asks him.
"Yeah, the others you trained with," he clarifies.
"They weren't my friends. Training is highly competitive and teamwork isn't exactly encouraged."
"Well, I don't like it," says Merrin.
"You don't like what?" asks PT-152, feeling as though she is being pulled between two separate conversations.
Merrin stops walking and the other two shuffle to a halt as well. "Your 'designation'." Merrin continues. "I do not like it. People should have names not numbers."
"Well, I don't remember mine so…" PT-152 trails off with a shrug.
"When I was young, before my people were killed, there was another Nightsister who was very important to me. Her name was Ilyana. If you like, I will give you this name."
"Really?" asks PT-152.
"Yes, it is a gift; one you do not have to accept or keep if it is not right for you, but everyone should have a name and I believe you deserve this one."
"Why?" she asks.
"Your dedication. You sacrificed much of yourself to reach Cal… and us. Ilyana was dedicated too," Merrin explains, "When she decided to do something, she would do whatever it took to achieve it."
"Ilyana," PT-152 says slowly, feeling the name. "Yes, I like that," she smiles and they continue walking.
"Good," says Greez, "I was never going to remember that number."
A few moments later they arrive at the market; a large, open, circular bazaar in the center of town with larger shops occupying the outer rim with carts and tents filling the center.
"Let's get to it," says Greez, clapping all four of his hands together and leading the other two into the throng.
Merrin, Greez and Ilyana return to the ship with the supplies a few hours later just as the sun begins to set. Immediately the crew set to work storing the supplies while Greez chatted excitedly about the ingredients he got for their dinner that night. All at the same time Merrin confidently places her order with their Lateron captain along with details on how she would like her meat cooked and her preferred sides, Cere is sure to remind him not to use too much salt this time, and Cal gives him a hard time about the last thing he made that did not seem to end well for any of them. There was so much talk and banter among the crew that Ilyana did not realize she had come to a complete halt in the middle of the galley, a package of freeze-dried meats in her arms, until a whistle came up at her from the floor. Looking down, she finds a little white and red droid hopping back and forth on its two little legs. She had seen this droid before, clinging to the Jedi's back, but now it stood on the floor next staring up at her with an inquisitive look.
"Uh, hi?" she says to the droid.
The droid trills again and jumps up and down emphatically.
"I don't understand," she says to Cal.
"This is BD-1," Cal says, introducing him. "He wants to show you to your cot.
"Oh, okay," she says, with relief, as Cal takes the package from her.
"Wait, this is yours," says Merrin, handing her the parcel that holds her new clothes.
"What was that?" Greez asks the room after she had disappeared down the hallway.
Merrin shrugs. "Trauma," she says. "It sneaks up on you."
BD-1 bounces and chirps down the hallway towards the engine room Ilyana had glimpsed earlier. On the way she steps into Merrin's quarters and gathers up the armor, electrostaff, and rifle she had left there on the bed then follows BD-1. The engine room is a long cylindrical compartment with a grated floor that splits it into an upper and lower level and the engine at the very far end. Just inside the entryway is a bunk up jutting out from the wall on her left and halfway down the room is a ladder leading to a lower floor. BD-1 jumps down to the floor below and beeps for Ilyana to follow. As she reaches for the ladder she notices that there is a workbench at the very end of this platform, then a gap between this platform and the engine beyond. Below is almost the opposite of the level above with the walls curving in slightly near the floor rather than the ceiling. At this level there is nothing to obscure access to the engine so it is likely the place where most repairs would be done. At the other end of the space from the engine, where the entrance to the engine room would be above, is a cot attached to brackets on the wall, opposite where the bunk is located above. A quick inspection tells Ilyana that they are not usually there but were attached recently. To the right and directly opposite the engine is a narrow walkway that leads to another storage room and the escape pods. BD-1 chitters and shines his light on the cot.
"Thank you," says Ilyana and she arranges her armor and electrostaff on a wide pipe that creates a kind of shelf beneath it. She turns back toward the ladder to see the droid standing near the base as if waiting to see if she needs anything else.
"Can you show me to the shower?" she asks, despite the fact that Merrin had shown her it was earlier. BD-1 jumps and trills happily then uses his jets to propel himself back to the upper level. With the parcel Merrin had given her in hand, she follows the little droid back to the upper level and on to the refresher near the crew quarters.
Standing in front of the mirror after her shower, she dresses in the clothes she had purchased in the market today but as she pulls her hair back she stops, catching her reflection in the mirror. For years she has worn it like this to adhere to the strict regulations of Imperial dress codes; pulled back tight and smooth, flat against her head. She drops her hands, her hair falling limply and stares at her reflection for a moment to think.
To be free of the Empire, she will have to unlearn all she has learned since she was taken. The protocol, the training, the behaviors, the lies and memories they forced into her head. She would have to find a way to leave them all behind. For a moment, she is nearly overwhelmed by the immensity of the task and squeezes her eyes shut. It seems insurmountable. How could she possibly undo all the programming forced on her?
She takes a deep breath, regains her control, and opens her eyes. She can start here. She runs her fingers through her hair to loosen the wet strands and let them fall naturally. If not tied back her hair will not dry straight but with waves and slight curls. She may not be able to undo all the programming at once but this small, symbolic gesture is a start; choosing a small amount of chaos to counter the order she has been indoctrinated into. It was freeing.
"Every little bit counts," she says to her reflection.
Back in the common area, Greez is in the galley trying to explain to Merrin all the steps involved in making their dinner while Cal is standing near the holotable with his back to the others, talking to Cere. Cere is the first one to notice Ilyana return and is struck by how different she looks dressed in civilian clothing with her hair hanging loose, barely brushing her shoulders. Cere is suddenly remorseful for how she had treated the newcomer as she realizes that the woman could not possibly be much older than Cal, which meant that she must have been barely older than a child when the Empire had taken her and threw her into battle. The realization hit Cere harder than she would have expected and Cal, noticing the change in her expression, turns to see what has caught her eye.
"Now you look more like a rebel!" he calls to Ilyana from across the room and the others look up.
"That's not just going to make me stand out in a different way is it?" she asks, joining him.
"You'll be fine," Cere answers then pauses and asks, "What was your number again?"
"Ilyana," Merrin calls out from the galley, "Her name is Ilyana now."
"Oh, okay," says Cere.
"Ilyana?" Cal asks with a smile at the thought that Merrin has already named her, "I guess that means we're keeping you."
Ilyana throws him an awkward glance, "Okay."
"So," he continues, leaning against the holotable and crossing his arms, "What can you tell us about this lead?"
"Not much unfortunately," she sighs and rests her hands on her hips. She is glad for the change of subject but wishes they could have started with a more promising lead as part of her suspects that if they aren't satisfied with the intelligence she provides that she will end up on her own.
"All I know is that there is a boy or young man of unknown species who is said to have luck or skill befitting a Jedi and he either lives or works at this spaceport," she continues.
"You're right. That's not much to go on," says Cal, "but at least we're in the right place."
"I know," she says, "I had planned to follow up on this one last."
"Well," Cal says as he brushes his hair back, "Greez is going to need some time to finish repairs to the Mantis. We can use that time to look around town and see if we find anything."
"That sounds like a good enough plan," says Cere, "If you don't come across anything quickly we can always go after one of the other leads and come back here later on."
"That works for me," says Cal, "What do you think… Ilyana?"
"That works for me too."
"Dinner is served!" Greez calls out from the galley.
"In the meantime," says Cere, "It's been a long day for both of you. You should eat and get some rest. You can start looking tomorrow."