Chapter XVIII - Into the Mine (Ashara)
I awoke to the sound of Pez warbling softly in the bulkhead of the bedroom, his eye staring out the front windows of the ship. Concerned about what was bothering the droid I crawled out of bed and walked to the doorway before I was completely awake. There were noises outside the ship, banging and loud talking. Stepping past Pez, I wandered into the main cabin to get a better view. The military ship next to ours was still there, being crawled over by the captain and his team. They had every door open and interior components pulled out onto the hangar floor for cleaning. The pilot was giving orders to the men as they worked, looking concerned about the state of his ship.
"Beep-click," Pez toned as he drifted close to me.
"They're cleaning," I replied, not sure if that answered the droid's question, or if there even was a question. It seemed odd that the soldiers were still here and I wondered what had delayed them. A glance at the ship's console clock told me that I had slept over nine hours. My body did feel refreshed, but a rumble in my gut told me that I needed food so I grabbed an energy drink and protein bar. The commotion outside made me a little nervous about being in pajamas so I started to get ready for a shower but a banging on the outer door of the ship interrupted me.
I stood frozen for a moment, wanting to ignore whoever was banging and hoping they would go away, but the banging echoed again, this time with a faint voice added.
"Hey, anyone awake in there?" a barely audible voice sounded through the ship's hull in a commanding tone.
"Click-beep-zwip," Pez tweeted at me as he drifted back and forth between the ship's hatch and the bedroom door.
"I don't know what's happening," I complained. "Open the door."
"Dweep," the droid replied with a rising chirp as he spun away.
Frustrated and anxious, the only thing I could think to do was slip on my leather overcoat. Another few raps on the hull rang out as I hurried to look proper as the hatch clanked and began to swing open. I walked to the door, pulling my coat across my chest as the ramp swung down to reveal Captain Mordon standing at the bottom.
"Mornin," he stated flatly with an annoying twist of his lip. His eyes drifted down to my legs and the silky gray pajama pants sticking out. "Hope I didn't wake you."
"No, I was just getting ready for a shower," I replied a little defensively. "Is there a point to banging on my ship's hull, Captain?"
"Sure is," he snapped. "Sergeant!" he barked over the commotion as he looked away, "the Sith's awake." After a moment Sergeant Yoms came into view carrying Tishmaly's cloak and satchel. "We were ordered to return your friend's things."
The sergeant gave me an uneasy glance as he stepped up the ramp. "Her clothes were pretty torn up," he mumbled as he handed me the satchel, "so I put 'em in the duffel."
I took the satchel and opened it, making the two soldiers stand there as I looked through her things. Her lightsaber and wrist-com were in the satchel with her clothes.
"It's all there," the captain snapped in irritation.
"Thank you," I replied as I reached out and took her cloak from the sergeant.
"Just following orders," he stated as the sergeant stepped down the ramp next to his superior.
Something was annoying about the way the captain was acting. "I thought you were supposed to have left?"
"Not after the commander and your Sith guy grounded us," he grumbled.
"I don't have a Sith guy."
"You know, the guy in the holo-com yesterday . . . the one who showed up and bossed my team around after we found your friend, Lord who's-it-what."
"Lord Vashcar?"
"Yeah, him." The captain took a moment to look at his team working before turning back to me. "He told Commander Trey that the Imperial fleet above has locked down low orbit and is searching vessels trying to leave. That spooked the commander and he's now worried that orbital recon will pick up our ship if we try to take off. So, we're stuck."
"I thought the shrouded man on the holo-com wanted you to leave?"
"Looks like plan's changed," he snarled, "not that I'm surprised. This whole mission has been one reactionary decision after another. Apparently, the whole Empire has forgotten how to plan ahead."
"I suppose this is good for Tishmaly," I thought out loud as I looked over my shoulder at Pez floating nearby, "the doctor didn't want her moved anyway."
"I wouldn't think of it that way," the captain said with a shake of his head. "The commander is jumpier than ever. He mumbled something about a plan to get our ships out of the hangar. I presume that means your friend too."
"Oh," I replied, unsure what his words meant. "Thank you," I added as I held up the Sith's things.
"Don't thank me for following orders." The captain turned and walked away with a frustrated shake of his head.
I activated the hatch to close the ship up and walked over to the counter to lay Tishmaly's things out. The black cloak had smears of dust on it, and several slashes through the fabric. The soft, stretchy shirt she wore was the same, and I could not help running my fingers along the shortened sleeve where the lightsaber sliced it apart. I never had an injury that bad. My mind could not help wondering how shocking it must have been for the Sith.
"Beep-duooh," Pez moaned as he drifted close and noticed his master's clothes.
"It's okay," I told him as I folded her shirt up. "We'll clean them up for her." I stepped away from her things and tried to focus on something less stressful, like getting a shower and straightening up the bedroom. It felt good to coat my skin with the lotion while it was still hydrated by the shower; which was my normal routine. Not feeling dry and scratchy was a big help.
Pez seemed eager to go see his master, hovering near the hatch and watching me as I ate some breakfast and tried to do a bit of my normal Jedi training routine, so I cut it short and we left the ship to check on Tishmaly. We arrived to find that Doctor Nbyang was not in, and I wandered over to the tank to look at the Sith floating in the bacta fluid. She looked the same as she did the day before, and the medical equipment clicked and beeped steadily without any alarms or flashing lights as a warning of something wrong. Pez stayed near the tank when I walked over to the bench and sat down.
It seemed a little weird to be concerned about Tishmaly's health. She was pretty much a stranger to me and did not treat me very well on Taris. She had my ancestor's ghost, though, and she was my only protection against the Imperials. In that sense, I had a vested interest in pretending that I was friends with a stranger, and that made my predicament even more awkward. I closed my eyes and tried to continue my meditation training for a bit. Reaching out in the Force, I could sense Tishmaly nearby.
Doctor Nbyang came in during my meditation to check Tishmaly's status. She seemed satisfied, noting that the vital signs were stable and there were good indications that the bacta solution had assimilated with the synthetic bone and tissue matrix to begin accelerating the healing. It sounded complicated and I was not sure what she was saying, but I was happy to see that she looked less stressed.
"How's your skin?" she asked as her clinical focus shifted to me.
"It's better, thank you."
"It doesn't appear to be absorbing properly," she added as she leaned close and ran her finger across a particularly dry patch at the base of my neck. "It feels slick on your skin too. I will run another batch with more emulsion and less oil. You should have said something if it wasn't working."
"I wasn't sure," I replied, "and I don't want to be a burden."
"Do you have a small sample of your lotion that I can analyze?" She asked with a disapproving look.
"I'm sorry, I don't. It's from my planet of origin, Shili."
"Well, I can do a little research and see if I can change the prescription in the synthesizer."
"Thank you."
As our conversation finished the door swished open and Sergeant Yoms walked in holding his shoulder and cringing in pain.
"What happened to you?" the doctor asked as she stepped past me toward the soldier.
"Seems I might have caught more of a blaster bolt than I expected yesterday, Doc."
The sergeant started to unbutton his shirt and the doctor reached in to help. When the front was drawn aside and slid off his shoulder a large red spot on the top of his shoulder with welts and raised blisters was revealed.
"Good Lord!" the doctor sighed, "why didn't you come in for treatment earlier?"
"To be honest it didn't look so bad until I woke up."
"Get up on the table," she ordered with a pointed finger. "I need to get my things." The doctor left to get a med kit and I turned to focus on the Sith in the bacta tank to give him some privacy.
"Is she doin' okay . . . Your Sith friend?" Sergeant Yoms said after a moment of silence.
"Stable," I said as I glanced back at him sitting on the exam table, "the doctor seems satisfied with her progress."
"That's good," he replied. "Some of the team were placing bets," he paused when I looked back at him harshly. "Sorry, gallows humor . . . people react strangely to death and the stress of combat."
"Did you place a bet?"
"Naw," he shrugged, "I don't have good enough luck for gamblin'." There was a pause as he looked away from my gaze at the bacta tank. "It didn't look good when we were moving her to the drop ship. She was a real mess."
I sensed he was going to say something else, but the doctor came back with her supplies. She gave out a forced sigh as she loaded the hypo spray and observed the red and blistered area again. "How could you possibly have assumed that this would get better on its own?" she grumbled while spraying the area."
The sergeant flinched as the medicine contacted his irritated skin. "Honest, Doc, it didn' look anythin' like this when I went to bed last night."
"Seriously," she snapped with a shake of her head. "How could you have slept at all? You must be in serious pain with a blast burn like that." The sergeant looked away sheepishly and the doctor glanced up at him with a suspicious look on her face. "Did the medic treat you with anything?"
"No ma'am," the sergeant replied with a nervous glance at me and the doctor.
"You're in my medical bay, soldier, which gives me the right to pull a blood sample." She replied as she continued working on his shoulder.
"I'd really wish you didn'," he mumbled.
That brought Doctor Nbyang to a stop and she eyed him sharply. "I just received a notice the other day by the Imperial Military Medical Board which warned about the illicit use of stims and adrenals." The sergeant looked away in silence. "There's no way you could have slept with a burn injury like that," she stated flatly.
"The unit's got sumpin' to ease pain, kinda a home remedy."
"If the medic is treating soldiers with an unauthorized drug . . ."
"No ma'am, Corporal Bevry is strictly by the book, too much so for Capn's likin'. This is only for self-use."
"Regardless," the doctor continued to protest, "your captain has to know, and that is against the regs. You shouldn't take the risk of self-dosing with an unknown drug."
"It's no risk, ma'am, the team's been using it forever with no trouble. It's more of a herbal remedy than a medicine."
"There's no herbal remedy I know of that could numb you up enough to sleep on that shoulder," she complained, poking a finger towards his wound. "You took something powerful enough to knock you out."
The sergeant looked between me and the doctor. "Listen doc, I appreciate your concern, but if you dig any deeper, you're going to get me in a world of trouble. The team's my family, if they think I ratted them out . . . well, it'd kill me."
The doctor stiffened, looking at him sternly. "I can't just ignore this." She looked over at me and then back at the soldier. It was obvious that she was worried about me reporting her, assuming I was a Sith.
She turned back to me, and the sergeant looked too, and suddenly I felt like they were expecting something from me. For a brief moment, I worried about the right thing to say. "I'm no medical expert," I mumbled, "I'm not even sure what you are talking about." It was the most subtle way I could think of to get out of the conversation, and I turned and stepped closer to the bacta tank to distance myself.
"Life's pretty hard in spec ops, doc," I heard the sergeant continue more softly. "Cap'n needs us all ready, and we do our best for him. None of us would want anyone to do somepin' unsafe, Cap'n most of all."
"Dammit," the doctor mumbled under her breath, "this is exactly what the medical board is worried about."
"Sorry ma'am, but I don't see you or any medical board covering my six or helpin' carry my teammates off the battlefield."
Doctor Nbyang dropped the issue as she tore open the bacta package and began applying the dressing to his shoulder. There were several minutes of silence as she finished her work and cleaned up her kit. She collected her things and looked like she was going to take them back to storage.
"Thanks, doc," Sergeant Yom's sighed as he flexed his treated shoulder gingerly and started to put his shirt back on.
"This isn't right," she responded, still upset about the sergeant's self-treatment. "I'm going to put my suspicions in the treatment log."
"Okay, I get that. Suspicion is good for a doctor lookin' after her patients. It covers you and gets me off the hook."
"You ought to have more sense in that head of yours," she added sharply before turning away. "Damn soldiers," she muttered as she walked past me towards her office.
I could not help hearing the conversation, but would rather I had not been involved, so I pretended to look over Tishmaly's medical equipment and ignore the sergeant. There was a quiet moment with only the sound of instruments beeping and the soft rush of the bacta tank circulation.
"Thanks for the support," Sergeant Yoms said softly to my back.
"Don't thank me," I replied with a glance over my shoulder, "I'm trying to pretend I didn't hear anything."
"See," he grinned, "that's what I mean. You're not at all like Cap'n says."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I assumed you noticed that Cap'n don't like Sith, I mean the Force-using kind. Course' he don't like Sith race people either."
"Why doesn't he like Sith?"
"He's had a few run-ins with them before," the sergeant said with a shrug, "don't talk about it much, but he sure lets his opinion be known."
"Yeah, I got the sense he doesn't like me. As a matter of fact, I seem to be getting odd looks from everyone around here."
"Well," the sergeant frowned, "you've got a few things against you."
"Oh?" I replied in a sensitive tone.
"I don't wanna go runnin' the man down or anythin', he's a friend, but Cap's kinda closed-minded. There are a bunch of people like that in the Empire."
"Closed-minded?" I wondered out loud.
"Yeah, you know, people like what they like and ain't interested in anythin' else. Some are more obnoxious about it than others. You know, the supremacist type."
"Supremacist?" My voice rose awkwardly. I thought we were talking about Sith and their bad reputation, but suddenly I was becoming aware of something completely different. The sergeant gave me an odd look as if he realized he had wandered into an uncomfortable subject.
"Now I ain't sayin' that Cap is one, least I've never seen him be outright prejudiced against your kind, but there are plenty of 'em in the Imperial military."
"My kind?" my voice rose even higher.
"Er . . . um," the sergeant stammered, "well, yer tentacle things ain't human, and to be honest I ain't never seen skin like yours before either."
"They're not tentacles!" I gasped in shock, reaching out reflexively to stroke my left lekku with my hand. Suddenly, the looks I was receiving and the apprehension I felt around me made sense. I was the only non-human in the whole complex, and the sergeant's team was all human too. The idea was such a shock that I froze for a moment.
"Aye . . . I don't mean no harm," the sergeant put up a hand toward me, "I don't have no hang-up about different looks, after all, I grew up on a freighter. I've seen a lot weirder things dangling off people than those."
"Weird?!" I blurted out before my mind could control my mouth. I'd never considered myself odd to other people and never thought of being separate. Life in the Jedi Order was open and accepting, with almost half of the population non-human.
"Sorry, that wasn't the best word. I mean different - like I'm sure my hair seems to you."
I turned to glance at Tishmaly floating in the bacta tank, for some reason feeling the awareness that she too was human for the first time. "Oh my God," I sighed in a heavy voice as the impact of this new perception continued to sink in.
Sergeant Yoms slid off of the exam table and seemed to shift awkwardly when I looked back at him. "Seems like I might'a said too much, I got a habit of doin' that."
"No," my mouth spoke as my thoughts fought to catch up. The sergeant gave me another funny look. "You said exactly what I needed to hear."
"Really? Cause you look kinda mad, or upset . . . Or sumpin'."
"Why would I be mad? You just told me that I was a weird looking alien that people around here don't like. Why would that make me mad?"
"Oh boy," he replied as he looked at the ground. "Open mouth, insert boot again, Drary."
"What?" I asked in a tense voice, unable to keep the anger I felt from surfacing. His words were confusing, and I thought they were directed at me.
"Drary," he said as he looked up into my eyes and thumbed his chest, "that's me. I tend to say more than I should and Cap says I'm better off sticken' a boot in my mouth instead of lettin' my gums flap." We stared at each other for an awkward moment. "I don't think you're a weird-lookin' alien. Sure, you got those . . . things instead of hair, and your skin is such a vibrant red . . . but you've got a pretty face, and . . . ah crap! I don't think I'm helping myself out."
It took me a moment to connect everything he was saying. He had told me his first name, Drary, something up until that point I had not known. I still felt uncomfortable in the awareness that everyone thought I was different and could not un-feel it, but Drary was not showing me any contempt and was starting to fumble over his words because he was clearly embarrassed.
"It's okay, Drary," I replied in a calmer tone.
His eyes lit up when I called him by his first name. "See, Cap was wrong about you Sith. You're not all that bad."
"You mean he expected me to act like the Sith he's met before, which is what, selfish and antagonistic?"
"Well, he hasn't told me his reasons, but I get the sense it's along those lines."
"You assumed I'd be difficult to deal with?"
"There are some pretty dramatic rumors about Sith goin' off, you know, lopping people's heads off with their light swords or burnin' the place down with magic lightnin', but you ain't like that, and you even took my back against the doctor."
"I just didn't want the hassle," I replied, feeling nervous that I might have somehow become a co-conspirator.
"Fair enough," he grinned, seeming to be less embarrassed. "Sorry about makin' you uncomfortable. I didn' mean to. So, how'd you become a Sith, anyway? I heard it's a pretty violent process, like a survival of the fittest kinda thing."
"Ah," I hesitated to try and come up with something plausible, "I was kidnapped from my homeworld and forced into it."
"Damn," Drary let out a breath, "that does sound cruel. Sometimes life in the military is brutal, but at least I wasn't kidnapped into it. Though sometimes I think volunteering was the worst decision I made."
"Why did you volunteer?"
"My family lived on a supply freighter. Dad was a technician and mom was a little bit of everything, nurse, cook, deckhand, you name it. Life on a freighter runnin' the Hydian Way is about the most boring life an upstart kid could think of . . . at least this kid anyway." He poked his thumb into his chest again. "So, I took my opportunity to sign up at a Telosian free port while the freighter was offloadin' over Telos IV. Boy, my dad was hot when I told him, didn' speak to me for over a year. Sometimes, I can see why he was so mad. Life in the military hasn't been near as fun as I assumed."
"It sounds like you might have been coaxed into it."
"You could say that," he huffed, "that recruiter was good at his job." He looked over my shoulder at the bacta tank. "So, what's the story with you two? Why was your friend attacked by another Sith and why did we get called in to help?"
I followed his gaze to Tishmaly floating in the tank behind me. "I don't know how much I am at liberty to discuss," I hedged.
"It's gotta be somepin' pretty serious to have the whole planet locked down. Boy, was Cap'n slobberin' mad about being told he couldn't leave."
"I'm sorry this has gotten you and your team in a bind. I know it is the last thing that Tishmaly would've wanted."
"I take it from the meeting yesterday that the trouble goes pretty far up."
I met his gaze and saw curiosity and worry in his dark brown eyes. "Sorry, but I probably know less than you do."
Drary gave me a disbelieving look but changed the subject. "Anyways, the team is chewin' at their weapon harnesses to get outta here. There start'n to snap at each other, Cap'n being the worst."
"Captain Mordon didn't explain much about how you and your team ended up here. He seemed frustrated that you were selected for this mission."
"That's Cap, make no mistake. He's the best, and he likes to prove to everyone that he is. Dark ops are the opposite of what Cap wants, cause you ain't allowed to brag about 'em. See, we've been in a sort of competition with the three-o-five, not official or anything, but heated nonetheless. The Fivers are part of the Kaas Division, probably their best unit. They're spec ops like us, and they got all kinds of honors and medals, more than we do, but you can't say that to Cap'n Mordon's face or he'll punch yer teeth out. Anyway, Cap's lookin' for missions that get us medals, and this sneakin' around for the Sith ain't doin' nothin' of the sort. No, Ma'am."
"It seems to be a very important mission, from the meeting we had yesterday, and I'm grateful that you showed up to help my friend."
"Oh, it's important all right, and Cap made damn sure we did our best. He's not goin' to shirk no responsibility, that ain't the way our team works, but he ain't gonna put on a happy face either. That's one thing about Cap, you'll always know where you stand with him. Speakin' of knowin' where you stand, I better get back to the unit before Cap' sends out the goons to get me." He rubbed his patched-up shoulder gingerly for a moment. "The doc does good work. I'm glad I came in for help, and it was nice talkin' to ya, Sith."
"It's Ashara," I replied. "My name is Ashara."
He grinned at me. "See ya around, Ashara." With that, he turned and hurried out of the medical bay.
Later, after I went back to the ship for some lunch, my mind could not shake the uneasy feeling that Drary's statement had given me; that people were treating me like an alien. I kept thinking over all the interactions I had since being found on the ship the day before, and each time it seemed like my mind imagined or remembered more odd stares or sideways glances. It made me frustrated and self-conscious. Pez noticed my mood and tried to engage me in a beeping and chiming conversation as he dipped and buzzed back and forth, but for some reason that only annoyed me more. There was boredom and monotony in the daily routine of the Jedi enclave, and Taris was far from the most beautiful place to be. I often dreamed of traveling, breaking out of the tedium, and going on an adventure. Now I was on that adventure and found myself wanting that routine back. Life was not perfect at the enclave, but I never felt out of place and unwanted as I did now.
I decided to throw my anxious energy into exercise and went through my typical afternoon training routine. I did not have a sparring partner to practice swordplay, but I was able to work through the rest of the regimen. Afterward, I stripped off my clothes to put them in the cleanser and headed to the shower, letting the hot misting jets wash over me for a while to allow the heat to work into my muscles and the moisture to soothe my skin. After the shower, I spent time applying the lotion as the clothes were still drying.
Just as I began to dress the com chimed and I scurried to answer it while slipping into the rest of my outfit. It was Commander Trey, and he wanted me to meet him in his office as soon as possible. His tone sounded anxious, so I finished dressing and grabbed my lightsaber belt as I headed out of the ship. Pez beeped and buzzed as he drifted along beside me. The hallways in the building all looked similar and I got turned around after going up the lift, but Pez knew the way for some reason.
Commander Trey was pacing in front of the large windows overlooking the mining complex when I entered his office. He turned to look at me but kept pacing. "Did you happen to see the captain?" he asked as he looked past me into the hallway.
"No," I replied.
He seemed irritated by my response and glanced out the window eagerly. Pez made a soft drone as I came to a stop a few feet away from the commander's desk. Even the droid seemed aware of the tension in the room. I waited an awkward moment as the commander continued to pace. Then he turned sharply and walked up to his desk opposite me, putting his hand out onto its surface as if to still himself.
"I can't wait much longer," he seemed to mumble under his breath.
"Does this meeting have something to do with the captain and his team not being able to leave?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied with a little surprise in his voice.
"They mentioned something about it when they dropped off Tishmaly's items this morning."
"New information has made the situation worse, I'm afraid."
"And what new information is that?" the captain growled as he walked quickly into the office.
"I'm afraid that my little corner of this planet has caught someone's attention. Lord Vashcar has intercepted inquiries into this mining base from Imperial Intelligence. He expects that an investigation team will be sent down from orbit soon."
Captain Mordon tightened up, his jaw clenching as he glanced between the commander and me. "I should've left right after dropping the Sith off yesterday." He turned and stepped away from us. "Dammit!" he cursed strongly.
"Calm down, Captain, I have a plan . . ." the commander urged, but was interrupted as the captain spun back on him.
"Everyone's got a damn plan," he growled. "That's how my team got stuck in this mess to begin with! We are a highly trained special operations team, the best in the Empire, not some sneak-around spy crew."
"I understand your frustration," the commander put up his hand to hold back the captain's outburst, "but flying off the handle isn't . . ."
"I haven't begun to fly off the handle," Captain Mordon said hotly as he took a threatening step toward the commander.
"That is enough!" Commander Trey barked in a commanding voice that took us by surprise. "We're on the same team, Captain, and I'm trying my best to keep you safe and get you out of this situation." The two officers glared at each other before the commander continued. "I know it's hard to see it from your perspective, Captain, but my neck is sticking out on this one too. If you or the Sith gets caught at my base . . . well, that'll be the end of me. Our best chance of success is working together."
"You're right about one thing, getting caught in this base would be a disaster." The captain paced away and looked out the window behind the commander. "Our combat ship has an extremely small signature, with sophisticated stealth technology." He shifted back to face us. "We've never been intercepted on an operation before." Commander Trey began shaking his head and opened his mouth to reply, but the captain continued. "This valley runs a few hundred miles; I saw it when we came in. We can leave this base in ten minutes, fly low in the valley till we're far away enough, and then make a run for it."
"That's not an option," the commander stated flatly.
"It is for me," the captain snapped.
"I won't allow it."
"I don't take orders from you."
"In this situation, I'm afraid you do, Captain." It seemed like a mismatch between the tall captain and the shorter, wiry commander, but at that moment the smaller man was showing a surprising amount of mettle. "I can pull up the communication for you if you want," he added as he reached onto his desk for a tablet. "There is a risk that the whole operation will be exposed if you are intercepted, bringing danger to everyone involved, including your divisional officers. There are links to Imperial Intelligence and the Sith hierarchy as well. Exposure could be catastrophic for the Empire, Captain."
The anger and tension were too much for Captain Mordon to contain, and he spun away with a huff to put some distance between him and us. "This is a shit show," he grumbled with a shooting glance at the commander. It was obvious that the captain was not accepting the orders that he had been given. He was pacing like a caged animal looking for a way to escape.
The commander turned on his holo-com and pulled up the order. "You can read it yourself, Captain. It is signed by Colonel Visk for the Twelfth Fleet. All planet-side assets from the operation have been transferred to Lord Vashcar until further notice. The Sith's direct communication tells us to scrub all data on the operation and have you go into hiding." As he spoke, his finger swiped across the tablet to bring up a second image of Lord Vashcar's order. "I don't doubt your skill and expertise, Captain, but the fleet above us knows what ship you fly. They'll be scanning for you."
Captain Mordon stalked back toward us and eyed the holo in frustration. His eyes seemed to come to terms with his predicament as he read the orders, but his clenched jaw and stiff posture showed that part of him was still resisting. "How in black holes are you going to hide the drop ship and my whole team," he grumbled, "wouldn't it be easier to just let us go?"
"I'm inclined to follow the Sith's order, and I've come up with a plan that will keep you safe until your extraction ship arrives."
"Extraction ship?" the captain asked suspiciously.
"Yes, a supply freighter is due to arrive in three days. It's a large freighter due to the delivery of new mining machines. Once the cargo is offloaded, we can stow your ships in its bay and have you taken to a safe location."
"Three days!" the captain growled and started pacing again. "We've already wasted days on this crappy assignment . . ."
"Your grumbling isn't going to change anything, Captain. My plan is the best option available to relieve this situation and Lord Vashcar has already tentatively agreed."
Captain Mordon eyed the commander harshly. "Making buddies with the Sith," he sneered with a glance at me. "We'll see where that gets you."
"Regardless," the commander kept his composure, "that is the plan and I expect you to abide by it. I want you to prep your ships to be moved in an hour. They need to be out of the way in case an inspection occurs."
"If we're gonna fly the damn ships out of the hangar, why don't you just let me sneak away?"
"You won't be flying them, Captain. My team will load them onto cargo lifts, cover them with an opaque force field, and transfer them into ore crawlers. There is an old section of tunnels that we don't use anymore. A remote place to hide you until the freighter arrives."
"You're gonna box us up like cargo and stow us in a stinky, dark, mining tunnel?" The captain looked between Commander Trey and me incredulously.
"One hour," Commander Trey repeated. The captain stiffened with frustration for a moment before he turned and stormed out. The commander turned to me. "I'm afraid that means you too, my Lord."
"Of course," I nodded. "What about Tishmaly?"
Commander Trey stepped behind his desk and looked out the window into the canyon below. "The doctor is adamant that her patient not be disturbed, so she'll stay in the medical bay for now, hopefully for the full course of treatment. If we're lucky this facility will go unnoticed, though Lord Vashcar seems to think otherwise and wants us to take all precautions possible."
"The captain doesn't seem very cooperative?"
"No, but I'm not going to hold it against him. He is a man of action and doesn't appear to be suitable for the subtleties of spy-craft. Your friend seemed to be of the same character. Maybe it is good that she is recovering in the bacta tank." I had to agree with him but did not reply. Tishmaly did seem a little impulsive. "I don't mean to boss you around," the commander added as he turned back from the window, "but I feel the weight of responsibility for those depending on me. I don't want to put them in harm's way."
"Of course, I understand."
"Good, then I'll leave you time to make preparations." He dismissed me with a nod.
Back at the ship, I spent a bit of time cleaning up. I could hear muffled orders being barked outside and went to look out the front window. Captain Mordon was marching around yelling at his team. Move this, clean that, put those things back in the ship. He was still agitated from his confrontation with the commander and appeared to be taking it out on his men. At least I only had myself to manage, and Pez, who was not any trouble.
I turned my attention to Tishmaly's damaged clothes for a bit before the mining crews arrived and began to prep the ships. The cargo lifts were large, flat pads about a foot tall with zero-G compensators. One by one the crew floated them into the hangar and set them down in front of our ships. The ship's com chimed and I went to answer it.
"Lord Zavros," the commander's voice echoed out of the holo, "would you mind joining us on the deck? I've some information for you before we begin the move."
"I'll be right there." I hurried to put on my coat and saber belt and activated the hatch. Commander Trey and some of his mining personnel were standing between the ships addressing Captain Mordon and Sergeant Yoms.
"Okay then," the commander stated as I stepped up. "We move equipment like this all the time, so there is nothing to worry about. Things will go more smoothly if you stay in your ships. The ore crawlers are automated and have little room for passengers. I brought you packages of antidote for the gases in the mine. If you've already been inoculated then you should be good for at least another week but take these just in case." He handed me a med kit, which I opened to discover a hypo syringe and several vials. "The smell in the mine can be a little overpowering, but it isn't dangerous and you'll become desensitized to it."
"This is a crock of shit," the captain muttered as he looked around at the mining team preparing to work.
"I'm sorry about this, Captain, but I'm following orders."
"Let's hope I get to return the favor sometime," he snapped before turning around and marching toward his ship.
Commander Trey turned to look at me a little sheepishly. "It's not as bad as he makes it sound."
"It's for the best," I agreed with a nod.
He seemed to brighten a little with my acceptance. "It won't be very long, and the freighter will arrive. I'll have you off this planet as soon as I can."
"Of course. Tishmaly should be out of the bacta tank by then as well."
"Yes, if all goes as planned. Thank you for understanding, my Lord." He nodded to me before walking off and giving orders to the crew. I walked up the ramp to our ship and had to wave Pez to me so that I could close the hatch. He was busy observing all the activity going on in the hangar.
They started on our recon ship first because the captain's team was not ready. The crew put a lifter mechanism on the front strut of our ship and I felt the floor tip back as they lifted us onto the cargo pad. Pez buzzed with concern and swished up to the front window to look at what was happening. Soon, they had our ship up on the pad and deployed the force field cover. It clouded the view with a white shimmering veil and I could barely see what was happening beyond. With a shift, I felt us begin to move. Once outside the hangar and in the sunlight, I could see through the shield a little better. The lift was slowly dropping us towards one of the large ore-moving machines. After several minutes we came to rest inside the rusty, dust-covered box that the crawler used to carry ore. Looking back toward the hangar I watched for the captain's ship. It took some time, but finally, a shape appeared outside the hangar and drifted down as we did before, landing in a crawler behind ours. Once the two ships were settled, we began to rumble down the canyon into the area of the mine. I watched for a little but grew nervous about the massive rock walls looming around us and moved away from the window. The thought of living inside a mine for three days unnerved me. I did not consider myself claustrophobic, but the idea of having tons of rock above and around me did not seem pleasant.
I busied myself with a snack and then tried to meditate for a while, but the rumble of the crawler vibrated into the hull of our ship and the occasional bump or jostle kept bringing me back to my predicament. It seemed to take a long time and I began to worry about how deep we were going into the mine. Unable to ignore it any longer, I went to look out the front window of the ship. The shield had been deactivated, but it was so dark that I could barely see anything. The lights on the trailing crawler reflected off of the dark gray rock walls and ceiling in a shifting, shadowy pattern. It was an eerie sight that unsettled me even more and I moved away from the window again.
After a few more minutes the crawler turned sharply and then began to back up. Then it came to a stop. Moments passed and it was strangely quiet before the cargo lift activated and we rose out of the ore bed. Lights were reflecting off the ceiling as the second crawler approached, and we seemed to be getting too close to the rock above, but before we hit anything the lift stopped rising and began to move sideways. Slowly, we settled on the floor of the cavern and the ore crawler rumbled away to reveal the captain's ship being lowered to the ground not far away from me. Pez toned mournfully as he drifted close to my head and his red eye scanned the dark cavern around us. Once the second ship was settled on the floor, the crawlers began to rumble back through the tunnel and soon we were left in complete darkness.
Not long after the crawlers disappeared, Captain Mordon turned on his ship's external lights to light up the cavern around us. I was surprised by how large the tunnel was and wondered at the size of the mining machines that must have carved it out. Long scrape lines grooved the mottled gray rock in patterns where the cutters had done their work. Motions began casting long shadows on the walls and ceiling as the captain and his team exited their ship to look around. I did not want to go outside, still unnerved by being so deep underground and worried about the smell of the mine, so I turned away from the window and tried to busy myself with something.
Tishmaly's clothes were laying on the small metal counter, so I moved over to them. I had run them through the cleaner and put the part of the cloak with a saber gash into the mender. The machine had done a fine job repairing the tear, and I was laying out the sleeve of her shirt for mending when there was a rap on the ship's hatch. Surprised, I walked over to the door and hesitated, not wanting to open the ship. I waited long enough for the person to tap again on the metal hull, this time a little louder.
Pez drifted over and hovered near a small panel. "Bleep," he toned at me.
"What is it?"
"Click-warble-zwip-tweet-click," the droid rambled.
"You know I can't understand any of your sounds," I sighed.
"Twerble," the orb seemed to sigh as it shook its little frame back and forth. Then, to my surprise, a little rod extended from Pez's side and he used it to press a latch on the small panel. The cover flipped up to reveal a door com. The droid looked back at me with a pleased narrowing of his red eye.
I reached out and pressed the button to activate the com. "Hello?" I spoke softly.
"Yeah," I heard Sergeant Yoms' voice reply. A small screen lit up on the panel to show me a view of the sergeant standing just outside the hatch. "Cap wanted me to come over and make sure you were okay."
"Yes, I'm fine."
The sergeant looked at the hatch in frustration. "We never established ship-to-ship coms, so I got to do it the old-fashioned way."
"Oh," I sighed.
"Cap wants us to link our coms in case there's trouble."
"Okay, how do we do that?"
"Well, I was going to type our transponder code into your ship's computer. . ." He left the comment hanging and I realized he wanted me to open the hatch for him. "You're not going to open your door?"
"Not really," I replied. "I don't want the nasty mine smell in the ship, and I haven't been inoculated against the planet's poison yet."
"You haven't taken the shot," the sergeant responded in surprise. "How've you gotten around all this time without it?"
"I haven't left the mining office complex since we arrived."
"We'll this's kinda awkward cause Cap told me to put eyes on you and make sure you was all right."
"I don't think he meant it in the literal sense."
The sergeant still looked at the door in frustration. "You really oughta take the shot too. There's no telling if you may need it in an emergency, and there mayn't be time when it counts."
"Thank you for your concern," I tried to sound appeasing, "I've got the kit right here if I need it.
"I'm supposed to link our coms," he complained.
"Can't ships hail each other?"
"Yeah, well . . . I'm standing right here. Are you really going to make me walk all the way back to my ship and hail you?"
I looked at Pez in frustration but the droid simply stared back with his impassive red eye. It seemed like an imposition to make me open the door, and there were good reasons not to, but I also felt like I was being a jerk for not letting him in. "What about the smell?" I complained.
"It's not that bad," the sergeant sighed.
"Okay, hold on."
"Take the shot first," he yelled, "I don't want you sick or dying on my account."
"That's not making me want to open the door," I complained as I went to the counter to get the hypo-syringe. He was right about being inoculated for safety reasons. It took a minute to load the syringe and expose my upper arm to administer the dose, then I moved back to the door and hit the activation button. As soon as the seal was broken on the air-tight door a wave of moist air rushed into the ship carrying a horrible smell that made me raise my hand to my nose.
"It took you long enough," Sergeant Yoms stated as he stepped up the ramp toward me. His face shifted to concern when he saw me gagging with my hand over my nose. "Did you take the shot?" he asked in a panic.
"Of course, I took the shot!" I yelled at him. "The smell is horrendous. I thought you said it wasn't bad?"
"Oh," he said as his body relaxed, "you had me going there for a moment. I thought you were being poisoned by the look on your face."
"I might as well be with this god-awful smell."
"You kinda get used to it," he said with a wave of his hand as he moved past me toward the cockpit.
"Get used to it? This is exactly why I didn't want to open the hatch."
"You're going to hide in your ship the whole three days?" the sergeant responded incredulously.
"No," I replied, though that is what I was actually planning.
The sergeant ignored me for a moment while he worked at the console. "Okay," he stated as he turned back to me, "the ships are commed together now. If you need anything you can reach us quickly by hitting that button." He pointed to a green icon on the communications console before turning to walk back to the hatch.
"Thank you, sergeant." I followed him and noticed the rocky floor of the cavern illuminated by the interior ship lighting flooding out of the open doorway. "Is it safe to leave the door open?"
"I don't see why not," the sergeant said. "We've had ours open since the ship was set down."
"There could be creatures living in this mine," I stated as my eyes scanned the ground in view.
"It looks pretty empty to me, and I can't imagine any critter wantin' to live in this hole." The sergeant noticed my worried face and looked out to where my eyes were focused. "We're gonna recon the area a bit, so I will confirm that there are no critters, but if you're concerned - close the door."
"I'm going to," I replied, "hopefully the ship can get rid of the awful smell too."
"You ain't got used to it?" he asked nervously.
I shook my head at him.
"Well, I better get goin'. Cap's not too happy with any of this and he's bossin' us about in frustration; told me to lead one of the recon teams."
"Okay," I said after a pause.
"See ya around, Sith." The sergeant walked down the ramp and his boots crunched in the gravel and dirt as he walked away.
I closed the hatch warily after the sergeant left, watching closely to make sure nothing snuck into the ship before it sealed shut. It seemed odd that I was so jumpy. Something about being deep underground in a dark place was messing with my psyche. Pez made a soft noise that made me look over at him. "I know, I'm not acting logically," I mumbled, stepping past him to go back to Tishmaly's shirt. It was strange, but sometimes it felt like the droid was actually feeling things, which of course did not make sense, but still, there were odd moments like just now where the glow in his red eye seemed to have emotion. Maybe there was a reason why Tishmaly seemed unnerved by the droid.
The cut through the sleeve on Tishmaly's shirt seemed impossible to fix. The material had been vaporized by the lightsaber when it cut through, leaving about two inches of the sleeve missing. It took some time to try to align the pieces in the mender, and I had to restart several times. I thought about leaving it be, especially considering no one tasked me with repairing her clothes, but it was the only thing she could wear and the thought of putting on a shirt with a cut-off sleeve sounded morbid. If I was recovering from such a traumatic injury, I would not want to be reminded of it by torn clothes, so that was my motivation to try and fix the sleeve. Eventually, I managed to get the mender to initiate the repair, but I was unsure how well it would be able to fill in all the material that was missing.
Once my focus was off of Tishmaly's shirt, hunger and still lingering unease started battling for my attention. I was stuck with the MREs or snacks on the ship and ate begrudgingly. At least it would fill my tummy. The afternoon and evening went quietly, and I took my mind off things I could not control by doing my Jedi training routine. The soldiers left me alone after Drary's visit, which was fine by me. I had mixed feelings about the team, especially Captain Mordon. When it got late enough to turn in, I began my nighttime regimen. My body was exhausted, but my mind was still shuffling through thoughts about everything that happened, making me toss around in bed for quite a while before I was able to fall asleep.