Chapter XX - Alive Again
The dreams seemed unending; sometimes vivid, and other times vague and murky. My mind tried to follow, wanting to make sense of what was happening to me, but the visions were always shifting. I would be in the midst of a duel with three opponents, slashing and spinning with my bright purple lightsaber, my striped headtails flipping around my neck as I fought. Then, things would shift, and I would be training as a young human boy surrounded by architecture from a distant millennium. I sensed they were dreams, probably guided by the memories of the ghosts that shared my head, but the transforming scenes would also bring forward my memories, like the childhood joy of chasing a butterfly or the more recent horror of dying under the Force drain of Darth Thanaton.
At times, I could almost reach consciousness, and in those moments my thoughts could clutch at reality. I went after the apprentices, but they were dead, and I lost my arm fighting Lord Cineratus. I must have defeated him . . . unless I died; in which case the afterlife was quite a disappointment. There were no memories after that; only shifting dreams and confusion filled my mind. Another lucid moment came as a dream about being submerged in an unending sea began to fade and I felt myself rising to the surface. I heard voices, muffled and garbled, but nearby. Another dream swirled at the edge of my mind, trying to draw me into a dark and mysterious place I had never been, but a groan tugged at my attention; it was my own.
Slowly, awareness began to seep into my being. The voices grew louder, including the groaning and croaking coming from my throat. I could not feel my arm, the one lost in the duel, and the rest of my body refused to respond. Panic started to fill me, the swirling darkness at my core burst through me like a flash, and I felt the Force respond to me for the first time since the duel. My body was bound tight, arms and legs, and when I drew in a breath to cry out in anger the air burned my lungs.
"Tishmaly," a voice said close to my head, "you need to calm down or you will hurt yourself." The voice was soft yet urgent, and I faintly recognized it, but the Force was surging through me, driven by anger and fear; collecting at the fingers of my remaining hand. "It's me - Ashara," the voice continued in a more panicked tone, "I'm here with the doctor who's trying to help you."
Ashara . . . my mind tried to think through the rush of adrenaline and Force energy coursing through me. The Jedi padawan I left on the ship at the mining facility. A string of warbles and beeps rang out near my head; Pez. My body was responding more to my will, and I struggled against the restraints. The anger surged inside when I could not break free, and the darkness within wanted to lash out with lightning. The tingling energy was already growing at my fingertips. Suddenly, a hand closed over mine, causing the energy to burn into our fingers.
"Don't do it, Tishmaly," Ashara urged, "we're trying to help."
"Let me go," I said in a strangely hoarse voice as I continued to struggle.
"Calm down!" another voice commanded from my other side, "or you'll damage the hand I just re-attached."
The female voice was unknown to me, but her words made me pause. They were a lie; I could not feel my hand. "Let me go," I growled hoarsely.
"You're bound for exactly this reason," the unknown female said, "now stop fighting and try to relax before you hurt yourself."
"Yes," Ashara agreed, the hand gripping mine tighter. "you're among friends, Tishmaly."
Friends. I had no friends, only enemies; those were aplenty. The darkness in me wanted to lash out. I had lost my arm, the apprentices were dead, and fighting Thanaton now seemed hopeless; I wanted someone to pay. Painful prickling shot through my hand and I realized that the Force energy was trying to release itself as lightning, but because of the hand holding mine, such a release would burn me as much as anything else. I fought against the restraints one last time before realizing it was hopeless. The anger surged again, but in a moment of clarity, I overrode the dark emotions. Any attempt to use the Force would mostly harm me, and I was just regaining my life and did not want to lose it again. I could sense the ghosts at that moment; they were not on my side. Finally, I was able to calm the Force that had surged around me and relax.
"Very good," the woman replied, "coming out of a coma is difficult and you are handling it well."
"Coma?"
"Yes, medically induced, but it was necessary due to your condition. You've been in a bacta tank for treatment."
"Bacta tank?" I groaned hoarsely. I had no memory of a bacta tank. "Why does it hurt to breathe?"
"You've been on artificial respiration in the tank, which has a softer air flow and more moisture. Your lungs have not needed to work as hard. The feeling will fade in time."
"I can't see."
"Your eyes were covered by a mask inside the tank and protected by an ointment to keep them moist and healthy. I've also dimmed the lights. Your vision should return shortly."
"Why have you strapped me down?" I complained as I fidgeted against the bonds.
"Because patients waking from sedation after removal from the tank usually experience confusion and panic. They might hurt themselves before they become aware of their surroundings, especially after a trauma like you experienced."
Struggling seemed pointless and I realized how weak my body was, so I stopped wiggling and took a few painful breaths. "How long do you intend to keep me like this?"
"Only for a few moments longer. I just want to make sure you are aware enough to not hurt yourself."
I sat in silence for a moment. Memories began flowing back into my consciousness, and with them came motivations, responsibilities, dangers, and consequences. For a brief moment, I wondered if dreamy sedation were a better existence. The hand was still holding mine; the padawan.
"What are you still doing here?" I asked as I turned my head toward her. I could see vague shifts in light through my cloudy eyes.
"Well, you locked me in the ship, for one," she replied.
"It was supposed to remotely fly you to safety."
"Pez and the soldiers came to get me. They deactivated the auto-pilot."
"Pez," I mumbled out loud. The droid warbled weakly and puffed close to my head. The last memory I had of the droid was watching it fly into the ceiling, blasted by Lord Cineratus' lightning.
"Yes," Ashara replied, "he came back with the soldiers who rescued you."
"Soldiers?"
"Captain Mordon and his spec ops team. They were sent in to help you recover the apprentices, but they didn't get there in time."
"I don't remember asking for any help."
"They are connected to Commander Trey . . . well, working together anyway. The captain doesn't seem to like the commander very much."
"Who are you?" I asked as I turned my head to look the other way.
"I'm Doctor Nbyang. I am stationed at this mining base and have been treating you since you were brought in."
"Why did you lie to me about my hand?"
"I didn't lie to you," she replied. "Your arm has been reattached."
"I can't feel anything."
"It's wrapped in a medical sleeve to continue the healing process, and it has been heavily anesthetized. An injury like yours is very difficult for the body to process, especially the brain and nervous system. Without the anesthesia your nerves would be firing constantly as they rapidly regrow, causing quite a lot of pain. Your brain would play tricks on you as well, similar to the phantom limb phenomena that amputees suffer. Keeping the arm numb for a few days will lessen your discomfort and help the healing progress."
I took a few more tentative breaths and blinked my blurry eyes. The shock of coming to consciousness in a strange place was fading, leaving a hollow sense of loss in its wake. "Can you at least unbind me?"
"Yes, it seems we've passed the point of needing restraints. Would you like to remove them?" the doctor seemed to ask Ashara, "I want to enter some information in her record and check on the data link with the medical sleeve."
"Of course," I heard the padawan reply. I heard shuffling noises and saw shadowy forms move around above me. The hand holding mine slid away, and I felt some tugging before the restraints on my arms were released. After all the straps were released, I tried to sit up, feeling anxious and vulnerable, but the exertion made my head spin.
"Whoa," the doctor said from across the room, "you should lie still for a bit." I heard her voice draw near as she spoke, and a fuzzy shadow grew in my vision. "You still have a lot of drugs in your system, and you have not used your muscles in three days." I felt hands on my shoulders gently urging me to lie back.
"I don't want to lay here," I complained as my body abandoned me and complied, "I need to get myself together and get us out of here."
"The best way to get yourself together is to relax and let the sedation wear off," the doctor stated as I felt a hand pat my shoulder. "You've got nowhere to go at the moment anyway."
The doctor moved away again and I looked around to see Ashara's blurry image by my side. "What does she mean?"
"It's a long story . . ." Ashara went on to tell me about the events that transpired after I was brought back to the mining facility. The meeting Ashara attended with Commander Trey and the shadowy figure on the holo-com spiked panic inside me. The commander had mentioned that he was working with a group of like-minded Imperial officers, but I never imagined that it included members of the Sith hierarchy. Ashara made it sound like they knew a lot about the apprentices and me, which implied that they were tracking me. If they were, then it was likely that Darth Thanaton was as well, which would explain Lord Cineratus' trap.
She also explained that we were trapped on Quesh because Imperial assets in orbit were controlled by Thanaton and were searching for me. The spec ops team and my ship had been moved into a mining tunnel to hide them, and we were waiting for a freighter to arrive. I did not like anything that she told me. It sounded like multiple disasters strung together into a debacle, with the only bright spot being that I somehow had managed to survive again.
"How long has it been," I muttered, "since I left you?"
"Just a little over three days," Ashara replied.
"Three days," I repeated softly. "It's a miracle we haven't been found yet." I looked at the form by my side and could make out some general features like her montrals, lekku, and the decorative pattern on her face. My vision was getting better.
"Commander Trey has been diligent in looking out for us."
"Commander Trey is part of a splinter group within the Imperial command structure and I have no idea what his motivations are."
"He's kept you alive and hidden," Ashara offered.
"For his own reasons, or those of his superiors. I don't trust him."
I lay quiet for a while processing the information the padawan had given me. "I sense a change in you," she said softly, "is everything okay?"
"How can I possibly be okay?" I mumbled, trying to focus my blurry eyes on her face.
"You're alive," she replied, "and you still have the Force. That's something." I looked away and closed my eyes, not feeling the same hopefulness that echoed in her voice. "Are the ghosts . . ." she added in almost a whisper, "do you still have them?"
"Yeah," I sighed, "unfortunately." She fell silent after that, and I kept my eyes closed. The padawan was right, there was a change in me, and I didn't want to talk about it. My confidence and sense of invincibility left me in the basement of that warehouse; blasted out of me with the surges of the Force I could not control. My body might have been put back together, but my soul was cracked like a pane of glass ready to shatter. It felt like my luck had run out, and I could not shake the feeling that I should have died in the basement of the warehouse.
After a while of stewing in my thoughts, the doctor came over to check on me. I kept my eyes closed and tried to calm the desperate feelings that were swirling inside me as she checked my arm and I heard some electronic sounds from her tablet. "How do you feel?" she asked after her check was complete.
"I don't know," I replied softly; still struggling with breaths.
"It is not uncommon for people to feel confused or lethargic after time in a bacta-tank. Even though it is accelerated, the healing process still uses your body's energy. You will need some time to recuperate."
"Okay," I sighed.
"Is there anything I can get for you?"
"No."
The doctor hesitated. "I think it's best that we let her acclimate," she stated to the Padawan. "She'll likely be tired when the drugs fully wear off and should relax and recover for several hours. Why don't you head back to your ship and I'll let you know if I need anything?"
"Sure," I heard Ashara respond as she shifted to get up next to me.
"Beep-blip-twible," Pez toned out near my head.
"Take the droid," I stated.
"Beep-duooh," the droid droned.
"Go with Ashara," I added more forcefully, sending a spasm through my chest.
"Zwip-Bleep," the droid added before I heard his thrusters puff away.
They moved away and started speaking softly. I could make out a few short lines from the doctor; ". . . this is normal . . . still concerned about her brain activity and endocrine levels . . ." And a few responses from the padawan; "she seems upset . . . I don't feel right leaving her." There was more talking after that, but I could not make it out. Memories were slowly drifting back into my sluggish mind, and they were making my mood darker. The image of the dead apprentices . . . what I did to the Sith Lord who cut off my arm . . . the uncontrollable surges of the Force. It was a nightmare I wish could be forgotten.
Thankfully, the doctor left me alone, because I could not imagine trying to have a conversation with someone at that moment. Not with the gloom shrouding me. I rolled on my side, which made breathing a little easier and slowly tried to think my way through what happened and what was to come. Time seemed to pass slowly as I lay on the cot, lost in my thoughts. At one point I heard the doctor walk nearby and rustle about. I deciphered the sounds as her preparing for bed, which seemed to be close by. I heard a cot creak as she settled in and then the room got silent again except for the soft drone of electronics and some clicking and beeping of medical equipment.
Even though I was exhausted, sleep would not come to me. The feelings inside of me were much too tumultuous to give me that peace. It was pointless to wonder about the future when I was struggling to even care about it. After spending quiet hours digging down through all the memories and thoughts about the last few days, I found no hope. Fighting seemed pointless. I almost died fighting Lord Cineratus, who was much less capable of a Sith than Thanaton, and there seemed to be an unending line of Sith Lords just waiting to take a shot at me. I could not fight the whole Empire. At some point, I would fail and die. I was frustrated by my thoughts and tried to test my body by sitting up. It took a bit of effort, but my head was a little clearer, and my muscles were more responsive. I looked at the medical cuff covering my right forearm in the dim light. I could see it was there, but I sensed no hand inside.
"Is everything all right?" the doctor asked sleepily.
"Yeah, I just need to move around for a minute."
"Do you need help?"
"I think I can manage," I replied, sensing through the effort that breathing had become easier.
"There is a makeshift toilet on the other side of the tank if you need it."
"Thank you." I slowly rose to my feet and felt a little wobbly as I took a step or two toward the bacta tank which was lit up like a night light with soft lights shining upward into the still liquid from its base. It surprised me that I was so weak, and wondered if it was the inactivity, the drugs, or the injury that had made me so.
I eyed the tank as I approached, and realized that I had no memories of being inside it. The soft light of the tank illuminated my form as I walked slowly by, making me notice that I was wearing a medical robe and nothing else. I pondered how I had lost my clothes as I relieved myself. Sometime after I lost my arm and then consciousness, an acerbic thought echoed back in my mind. There seemed to be a dark cavern where my last three days had irretrievably gone, and I did not like losing them. I also did not like the thought of laying down again, so I wandered around the shielded triage cell we were in. The energy walls were semi-translucent, but I could not see anything beyond except darkness. As I shuffled slowly back to the cots in the darker corner behind some metal shelves, I noticed the doctor was leaning up on an elbow watching me.
"Keeping an eye on your patient?" I mumbled, sitting down in the cot and meeting her eyes.
"I have spent a lot of effort fixing you up," she replied.
"I suppose you want me to be appreciative."
"I would have done my job anyway," she added with a straight face and a clinical eye.
"Sorry," I sighed, "I'm still trying to figure out if I'm better off for your efforts."
"Isn't life better than death?"
"Not if death is still stalking you and will likely be right around the next corner to finish the job." I looked away from her observing eyes. "Besides, some of me died in that warehouse . . . I just haven't figured out how much."
"Well," she said while rolling over on her cot, "it's late and I'm no psychologist. Do you need anything to help you sleep?"
"I think I've had enough drugs for a while."
The doctor went back to sleep, and I tried to do so as well, but could not. So the night passed slowly while I tried to avoid the darker thoughts that haunted me. As my senses improved, I became aware of an unpleasant, acidic, earthy smell, and every now and then dust and pebbles would fall on the ceiling, causing a soft pop and staticky sound that was a little concerning. My discomfort made me get up and walk around several times, once looking over all the medical equipment and trying to evaluate my medical state, and another time finding something to drink.
Later, the doctor got up and went straight to her monitors to check things over. Then she came over and checked the sleeve over my arm. "Can you take it off?" I asked. "I still don't believe my hand is in there."
She gave me a cynical look. "Give it another day, and then I'll take it off. There is still a lot of healing to be done."
Her words irritated me. "I want to go to my ship."
"Okay," the doctor agreed. "I can contact Lord Zavros to bring you some clothes."
"Lord Zavros?" I repeated in surprise.
"Of course," the doctor answered in confusion, "isn't that the name of your companion?"
"Yes," I replied quickly as my mind tried to catch up. The padawan had not told them who she really was. "Sorry, my thinking is a little slow."
"No problem." The doctor stepped over to her medical desk and was picking up her tablet.
"I don't want clothes," I said as I stood quicker than I should. "I feel like crap and need a shower."
The doctor turned to observe me. "I've got medical slippers for your feet, but that's about it."
"It'll do," I said as I stepped over to her.
She took a moment to look through the storage boxes on the bottom shelf of the cabinet before she stood up with a package. Ripping it open, she handed me a pair of black and red slippers. They matched my flimsy medical gown, how cute. I dropped them unceremoniously to the floor and worked to fit my toes through the front.
"I'll message Lord Zavros and let her know you are coming." The doctor called after me as I headed to the hatch.
"Sure," I replied before stopping at the hatch controls. "Do I need to make a follow-up appointment?"
The doctor kept her serious face, obviously not interested in my sarcasm. "I'm getting real-time data from the medical sleeve." She replied clinically. "It's waterproof, so the shower won't bother it. If you need anything let me know."
I nodded and left. So much for getting some alone time, I thought bitterly as my feet crunched on the gravelly rock floor. Not only was I going to have to contend with the padawan and the droid, but I was being constantly monitored by the doctor. What I really needed was to be alone. I had never felt myself in a worse mood, and it was deteriorating. I really wanted my captain's quarters on the Intrepid right now. Lock the door, put on some music, and maybe forget myself in some of my favorite novels. Instead, I was going to a tiny, sterile vessel that I would have to share with an almost stranger and the crazy droid.
As I walked around the side of the triage room, I realized that the smell was much stronger outside in the cave, almost debilitatingly so. Also, exterior lights on the second ship sitting opposite mine were lit, revealing the impressive size of the tunnel and the rock around us. There were also soldiers milling about, some of whom noticed me slowly shuffling across the dusty, pebble-strewn floor toward my ship. Their gaze made me too aware of the flimsy gown I was wearing and I felt thankful for the dim lighting.
I was most of the way toward my ship when the hatch clanked and began to open. At the same time, one of the soldiers started walking toward me. I picked up my pace, hoping to get on the ship before he intercepted me. The last thing I wanted was an awkward and pointless conversation with someone I did not know while mostly naked. Of course, everything I did not want to happen transpired.
Pez popped through the opening hatch before the ramp was even down and came flying toward me, chattering incessantly with his warbles and beeps. The padawan appeared in the bright entrance to the ship just as the soldier hurried his pace to catch me at the base of the ramp.
"Back off," I snapped at Pez, who was buzzing around my head.
"Bleep-beep," he toned as he drifted in to nuzzle my neck.
"I told you, no touching!" I tried batting him away with my good hand, but not violently. The floating droid gave me some distance but puffed his thrusters excitedly as he danced in the air by my head.
"You're alive!" the soldier blurted out as he slid to a stop in the gravel a few paces away.
"Thanks, detective," I snapped at him.
He looked at me in surprise, and then looked up the ramp at the padawan. I followed his gaze to Ashara. "This is Sergeant Yoms, one of the men that rescued you," she added.
"Looks like the doc's gotten you back on your feet," the soldier said when I glanced back at him. He gave me a smile but I stepped past him and headed up the ramp, holding the back of the gown together with my only good hand.
Ashara looked at me nervously as I approached, seeming to sense my mood. "Is everything all right?"
"No, it's not all right," I mumbled, "why does everyone keep asking me that stupid question?" I stepped past her into the small ship and headed for the bedroom.
"Well . . ." the padawan stammered as she turned to follow me, "we're concerned about you. Is there anything I can do?"
I stopped at the bulkhead door and turned, frustrated that all three of them seemed to be following me; Pez puffing around in the air, Ashara looking concerned, and the soldier standing on the ramp gawking. "I feel like I'm covered in dried slime and need a shower. I don't want any of you to help me with that."
"It's the bacta," the padawan replied, "the doctor said it dries like that."
"Wonderful," I mumbled. "I smell almost as bad as this damn cave."
"I don' smell nothin'," the sergeant said with a grin.
"Is there a reason why you're here?" I snapped.
"Well," his grin disappeared, "I thought so . . . but now I'm not so sure."
I looked at Ashara sharply before turning and stepping through the bulkhead, hitting the door activator before anyone could follow me. I felt bad for being harsh, but my mood was so foul that I could not hide it. The padawan had gotten comfortable in the bedroom, her towel hung over the plasti-panel shower door and her pajamas were tossed on the end of the bed. It irritated me a little as I disrobed, it was my ship after all. I climbed straight into the shower and relished the feel of the steamy jets on my skin. Scrubbing with a wash pad was not easy one-handed, and I needed a thorough scrubbing. The stuff was caked in my hair and took a long time to work out.
At some point during my efforts, I heard the door swish open and Ashara walk in. "You didn't have to be so mean to him," she complained after a moment. "He did rescue you; you know."
"I know," I mumbled, "I'm indebted to everyone."
"In a way you are," she countered. "A little courtesy might be nice."
"My breath smells like dead fish, can you hand me my toothbrush?"
I saw her form move over to the small sink through the shower panel. "The last few days haven't been fun for any of us, you know."
I slid the panel open slightly and reached my hand out to take my brush from her. "It doesn't work without paste," I mumbled again at her.
She tugged the brush out of my grip with a huff, used the cylinder to squirt out the paste on the bristles, and then handed it back to me roughly. After that, she left the bedroom and I stayed in the shower for a long time trying to scrub away the bacta on my skin and at the same time try to mentally cleanse the stain on my mood. Eventually, I felt clean enough, got out of the shower, and dried off. My body felt refreshed, but my mood was little changed, so I grabbed a pair of plain gray pajamas out of the drawer and then climbed into the bed. I could feel that sleep was not going to come to me, but at least I was alone for a moment.
The door swished open and I heard Pez drift in, followed by the padawan. It seemed like I had been lying in bed for a long time, and I was not sure if I had dozed off. Despite their presence, I lay facing away from the door, staring at the dark paneled wall next to the bed. I heard Pez drift over me until his frame came into view, his red eye observing me.
"Bleep-blip?" he toned softly, but I did not answer.
Ashara's footsteps moved past the end of the bed and I heard her go into the privy. "Are you hungry?" she asked when she came out and stepped over to the bed. "I can only offer you the military MREs, but I can make one up for you?"
"No," I sighed.
"Duooh," the droid seemed to sigh.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I added after a quiet moment. "I thought you were mad."
"I am, a little, but I'm kinda stuck with you at the moment."
"Why didn't you let the autopilot activate and get the hell out of here when you had the chance?"
"You locked me out of the controls, remember?" she complained, "I didn't know how long you set the timer for, and the soldiers used your wrist com to deactivate it anyway." She paused a moment. "Besides, the hangar had a shield across the opening. The ship might have been destroyed if it tried to take off."
"The soldiers used my wrist com?"
"Yeah, apparently they hacked into it."
"Great," I muttered in frustration, wondering how much personal information they could have gotten from it. "Where is it now?"
"It's on the counter. I can get it for you."
"Please," I said while rolling on my back to look at her.
Ashara disappeared through the bulkhead while Pez drifted his form into my view and looked down at me.
"Bleep-zwip-tribble-click-beep."
"I don't want to talk about it," I replied.
"Beep,"
"No."
Ashara came back with a hand full of things, handing me my wrist com first. I took it and turned it on to look through the controls. She held up my cloak and shirt. "I repaired your clothes and cleaned them." I looked over at her while she showed me the sleeve of my shirt. Reaching out, I ran my fingers down the material. She lifted the cloak with her other hand to show me. "I have your lightsaber too." She pulled the hilt out of the bundle of cloth and held it out to me.
Part of me wanted to feel it in my hand, but that was impossible at the moment because the proper hand was numb and trapped in a medical contraption. "I don't want it." My focus shifted back to my com, and I even rolled away from her.
"I'll put it in a drawer with your clothes," she replied. I heard her bend down and open one of the drawers under the bed.
"So, you're going by the title of Lord Zavros, I hear."
The padawan gave me a funny look. "They assumed I was a Sith and it seemed to be the least complicated way to handle the situation."
"Convenient," I mumbled.
"What does that mean?" Ashara replied, looking a little offended. "They know I'm not an official Sith. The mystery man on the holo-call said so. Commander Trey stepped in to help and indicated that the title was only decorous." She paused, seeming to want me to say something. "It was horribly awkward, to be honest. The past three days have been."
I should have said I was sorry, but my feelings were so jumbled and inward that instead, I looked away at my wrist-com. It turned on and all my personal settings looked accurate. While flipping through the menus I noticed a list of the last contacts; Andronikos being close to the top of the list. "Did you make contact with anyone off-planet?" I asked.
"Commander Trey locked down communications from the facility after you returned. No one was allowed to send messages, which didn't make Captain Mordon happy at all."
"Captain Mordon?"
"He's the leader of the soldiers who rescued you. He's kind of grumpy and antagonistic."
"Great."
"Yeah, I don't like him very much."
I remained silent for a moment. Captain Mordon did not interest me, but I was worried about Andronikos. It had been over three days since he had received any contact, and I he might have taken liberties with the Intrepid. "I need to contact Captain Andronikos or he will fly away with my ship; if he hasn't already."
"We're sealed in this mine at the moment. Commander Trey had his crews collapse the tunnel so that the inspection team wouldn't find us." I fiddled with my com some more; vaguely remembering the events she told me about the night before. "Maybe he will let you contact the captain after he gets us out?"
I did not answer, rolling farther away from her and setting my wrist com down on the bed. What difference did it make if Andronikos took off with the Intrepid, my frustrated mind thought. I would not be able to hold onto it much longer anyway. Pez drifted around my head and toned softly, but I closed my eyes and ignored them both. At some point, they left me alone.
My stomach finally overpowered my brain's lassitude with cramps and growling, forcing me to get up and wander out into the main cabin to look for something to eat. The padawan was exercising vigorously in some sort of training routine but stopped quickly when she saw me enter. Our eyes met but I looked away and focused on rummaging through the cabinets. Pez was watching the padawan, and let out a chirp when he saw me, thrusting over to bob around my head. Not wanting to mess with preparing something, I grabbed a few energy bars and nutrition drinks, planning to head back to the bedroom.
"Can we talk a minute?" Ashara asked softly before I could take a step.
"No," I mumbled and headed toward the bedroom.
"Hey," she protested and followed me. I spun on her in the doorway and she stopped a few steps away. Pez, zooming after us, almost bonked her in the head when she stopped. "We're stuck together at the moment, you know. I'd like to think we can work as a team."
"What do you expect me to do?"
"I don't know," she replied, her eyes searching me nervously, "you're not acting yourself . . ."
"Maybe I'm not myself." I turned away and looked down at the bottles tucked between the medical sleeve and my side. With only one hand, I had to bite on the cap and twist it off to crack open the bottle to take a drink.
"I don't know what that means?" Ashara stepped into the bedroom after me. Pez drifted past her and hovered between us.
"I don't either."
"Beep-click-zwip," the droid added in an upbeat tone.
"Well, do you want to talk about it? Maybe it would help?"
"No," I said before finishing the first bottle, "and it won't help." Tossing the empty bottle in the bin under the sink, I moved away from her and sat down on the edge of the bed to eat my energy bars. Again, teeth became a handy tool to help my one hand remove the packaging so I could eat.
She stood and watched me for a moment. "I don't know what to do?" she whispered anxiously.
"Leave, and close the door," I mumbled. She stood still for a few more moments, and I could feel her frustration with me, but the last thing I wanted to do was try to explain something to her that I could not even figure out myself. When she realized that I was going to continue to ignore her, she huffed and left, the door swishing closed behind her.
Pez was still drifting in the air behind me. "Beep-duooh," he droned softly.
"If you can't be quiet, then leave," I told him.
The energy bars were the first real food I had put in my stomach in days, and they were a real disappointment to my taste buds. They also did not settle in my stomach very well after I laid down. I sensed that the drugs in my system were mostly gone, and my right arm was starting to twitch and ache just below the elbow. Even if my mood would have let me sleep, the ache in my arm and the discomfort in my stomach was enough to disrupt any thought of sleep. So I lay curled up on my side and felt time pass as I fought to not think about anything too deeply. The padawan came in after hours of quiet. I heard her change into pajamas and brush her teeth. Then she grabbed a blanket from a drawer under the bed and left. She was leaving me the bedroom for the night.
Sleep did come to me at some point, but it was no more peaceful. Strange and anxiety-feeding dreams kept my mind agitated, driven by the three Sith ghosts sharing my soul. While they seemed quiet during my wakefulness, content to let my own thoughts torture me, they taunted me with all forms of chaos in my repose. Again, the theme of usurping me echoed through the visions they fed into my dreams, along with replays of my lost hand laying on the ground in front of me, of me losing control of the Force, and other anger and lust-filled memories.
When I finally awakened, the exhaustion I felt seemed worse than before, and my body seemed no more restored. The one silver lining, if there was one; the fingers of my right hand tingled and burned as if they were stuck in a fire. My mouth felt dry, and I got up to get something to drink. Pez was not in the bedroom but was chattering at the padawan while she ate at the small table when I stepped through the portal into the main cabin. They both stopped to look at me as I shuffled toward the kitchenette.
"Good morning," Ashara said as she watched me.
"What makes you think that?" I mumbled.
She didn't reply but seemed to realize that my mood had not changed and went back to her food.
"Click-warble-zwip-beep," Pez toned as he buzzed over to me.
"Speak for yourself," I countered, unsure exactly what he was chirping about but not agreeing with his bright timbre.
"Doctor Nbyang hailed us a bit ago, she wants to see you . . . something about a change in your stats."
"Yeah, my hand feels like it's on fire," I replied while pulling down a drink and walking over to the padawan to get it open for me.
"That's great!" she said as she took the bottle and cracked open the cap.
"Sure, you're not dealing with the pain."
"But you feel something, that must be encouraging?" she continued in a hopeful tone.
"It's still a worthless stump," I grumbled, "only now it hurts."
"Wow, that was really negative."
I walked away from her toward the bedroom, feeling irritated by her words. She was right, of course, I was all negativity and could not seem to find a way out of that wallow. Worse, there did not seem to be a point in getting out. Frustrated, I stripped off my pajamas and got in the shower, hoping that the hot steam would lessen the pain and soothe my mood. When I emerged from the shower to dry off, the padawan was changing out of her pajamas. There was an awkward moment where we both stood looking at each other, and then I turned away and tried to dry myself off with one hand. I was pretty clumsy at it and caught Ashara watching me when I looked in the mirror.
"Can I help?" she asked.
"No," I replied quickly. It irritated me that she was watching, not only because I was naked, but because I was fumbling. It also fuddled me that she was still unclothed, and though I tried to ignore it, my eyes kept drifting back as I wondered what she was doing. The lustful dreams from the Togrutan ghost flashed into my mind, making the moment all the more uncomfortable, so I wrapped the towel around me and turned to walk over to the drawer where Ashara had put my clothes. She was rubbing a lotion into her dark red skin as I approached, and paused to look up when I stopped close to her. Her eyes looked into mine inquisitively, without a sense of discomfort or worry.
"I need my things," I stated, pointing my finger down at the drawer by her leg.
"Oh," she replied and moved away a few steps.
I pulled out my clothes and laid them on the bed. She had washed everything, including my underwear, which seemed too intimate at that moment. Quickly, I slipped on my panties and picked up my sports bra, sliding my arms in before dropping the towel. I hurried to get my pants and shirt on. Thankfully, the sleeve of my shirt was stretchy enough to get over the medical cuff. Once clothed and feeling a little less awkward, I reached back with my good hand and pulled my wet and tangled hair out from under the collar, and turned to the padawan. She was still naked and casually working to rub the lotion into her calf, her foot raised up on the bed.
I walked out of the bedroom to give her some privacy.
"Dweep," Pez chirped from his charging stand as I walked past.
"What?"
"Zwip-click-click-bleep."
"We're going to see the doctor," I replied, wondering if I was anywhere close to answering his question. Sometimes I could understand his babble, but it was mostly due to context.
Feeling the twisting in my stomach, I grabbed another protein bar and ate it while I waited. After it seemed like I had given her enough time to dress, I headed back to the bedroom to grab my belt and lightsaber. I did not know why; considering I could not wield it very well, it just felt like I needed to have it. Stepping through the bulkhead, I was surprised that the padawan was still without clothes, and was trying awkwardly to lotion her back with a makeshift metal stick with a wad of cloth on the end.
She glanced over and saw my frustrated look. "Sorry, it takes time for me to get ready."
"The doctor's probably wondering what happened to us," I replied before walking back to the main room. It took a few more minutes for the padawan to appear, her eyes ignoring my frustrated gaze. I walked straight to the hatch and hit the button to open the ship.
"Doo-dweep," Pez said excitedly as he rose from his stand and puffed toward the hatch.
Ashara drew on her overcoat behind me. She had put on her matching dark brown boots and her utility belt. I saw her saber hilt shifting at her side and suddenly remembered that I had given it back to her. The realization should have reassured me that I could trust her since she had not used it to kill me in the last few days, but somehow, I wasn't. I headed down the ramp with the others in tow.
The doctor looked me over, showing us the transparent scan of my arm. The area where the lightsaber cut through was darker looking with less multi-colored filaments running through it. She removed the sleeve and I looked down at my lost hand for the first time. It was thinner, looked weaker, and the skin was duller looking. She touched parts of my arm and hand, and I could sense contact, but it was very faint. I could make several fingers twitch, which she said was a very good sign, though it really depressed me. The doctor replaced the sleeve covering with a medical band which she fitted over the scar on my arm.
"This will continue to accelerate the healing process," she stated as she turned it on. I watched the panel come to life on the band and a sequence of colored lights start to flash along one edge. "There is a setting here," she pointed, "to change the electromagnetic pulse. If the pain gets too much you can turn it up to calm the nerves in the arm."
"Okay," I nodded. "How long will it take before this stump is useful?" I shook my numb hand for effect.
She gave me a concerned look. "I need to caution you. So far, your progress seems promising, but there was severe damage to your arm. It could take months for it to strengthen to full use, and there is a chance it may never fully recover."
It was a sobering thought; touching a fear that was haunting me since I awoke. "What if it doesn't?"
"Well," the doctor paused, "there are several post-surgery treatments, but they do not usually provide significant outcomes. "There are mechanical enhancements that you can wear to help the hand, and then there are prosthetic surgeries where you can be fitted with a bionic arm."
I got up and paced away from her, looking down at my hand and willing it to move. Only the pinky finger twitched. None of the recommendations sounded good. I wanted my hand back. "Well," I replied calmly, "let's hope the healing works."
We went back to the ship and I laid down and sulked. I could hear Ashara working out in the main cabin while Pez chattered and puffed around. The pain grew in my arm until I ticked the setting on the cuff up to the maximum, which made everything feel numb again. I was depressed before, but being able to see my injured hand and realizing it was useless made everything worse. Darth Thanaton was more powerful than me before the injury. Now, I was hopelessly outmatched.