Chapter XXIII - Is There Any Hope?
Morning came and went, and I rolled around in my bed with little motivation to get up. I slept, but it must not have been much because I felt exhausted. Being back on the Intrepid, in my room, had made me hopeful that my mood would improve. Instead, I spiraled out of control. The meaning of everything around me seemed gone. Worse, the ghosts in my head were energized by something, and their thoughts and visions tormented me. Darth Andru had become the ringleader, with Lords Ergast and Zavros being sidekicks. The hatred and anger of Darth Andru tainted everything that he touched, and unfortunately, I had recklessly drawn him into my soul. He wanted to destroy me, I could feel it, and he seemed eager to feed the depression and hopelessness that shrouded me. Lord Ergast, the ghost that had taught me to shadow-walk, was more neutral, but he certainly was not on my side. Lord Zavros had his special torture for me; filling my dreams with his salacious memories. I needed to find a way to get rid of the ghosts for good. It was one of the worst decisions I had made, and I was angered by the fact that my ancestor had urged me down that path. I possessed the Force power of the Sith ghosts but struggled to control it for anything useful, and whatever benefits it provided were certainly not worth the torment of having the vile things in my head.
To top it off, my hand started twitching and cramping painfully sometime during the night, and it grew progressively worse until tingling pain began radiating from the wound where Cineratus' lightsaber cut through my arm. Finally, I was unable to lie in bed anymore and got up to shower and dress. I checked the medical band on my arm, and it appeared to be working but was unable to dampen the pain any longer. The contortions my fingers twisted into during cramps made me look like a cripple; it was very disheartening. I dressed in a long sleeve cream-colored shirt so that I could hide my hand inside the sleeve and put on a pair of dark brown skeggings. While I pulled my curly hair up and began gathering it into a ponytail, I could not help noticing my worried eyes in the mirror. I was a mess, and things were getting worse, not better.
Once dressed, I thought maybe a distraction would help, so I grabbed my reading tablet, crawled into bed, sat with my back to the wall, and began scrolling through the book I had been reading weeks ago before all the trouble started. It was a historical, enemies-to-lovers romance with a happy ending - just the type of book that could pick my spirits up. I found where I left off and read for a while. The distraction was nice, but my spasming hand pulled my attention away from any entertainment I could have gotten. My mood began to sour again when the ship's computer chimed in my room.
"What is it?" I responded.
"It's me," Andronikos said through the speaker. "I've got your com set up if you want to check it out. I'm in the penthouse kitchen with Ashara."
"I'll be right there," I answered. Andronikos was offering me a better distraction than reading had turned out to be, and I needed my com back. Throwing a few things into my satchel and slipping on some cream-colored flats, I headed down to the penthouse.
When I entered the kitchen area, Andronikos was getting a drink out of the dispenser, and Ashara was eating at the bar.
Pez was rolling around on the counter chirping weirdly until he saw me. "Dweep," he cheered as his thrusters pushed him off the surface, and he headed toward me in an erratic flight.
"Keep your distance, droid," I chided.
"Twee-zwip?" he inquired as he came to an abrupt stop a foot from my head.
"I'm not in the mood," I replied, unsure what he was asking about.
"He's been acting strange this morning," Ashara mentioned as I moved around the floating orb to the counter where she was sitting. She was still in pajamas, the silky gray ones from the recon ship, and I could not help noticing that they were tight and revealing on her curvy frame. It was an unsettling recognition thanks to Lord Zavros' vivid dreams.
Andronikos' gaze was on the padawan's figure as well before he took a swig of his drink and walked over to the pile of electronics in front of us. "Okay," he said with a glance my way, "I replaced your wrist-com with this." He picked up a black band which was larger than my old com, and was decorated with a subtle red inlay and had a matte finish. There was an awkward moment when he held it out for me and I reached for it with my useless hand. There was no way I could put it on my left wrist where I normally wore it. "Let me help you," he suggested when he noticed my predicament.
Frustrated, I held my left arm out so that he could slip the wrist-com in place. It was nice, with a larger screen than my old one and the decorative details made it look more like a bracelet and less like a device. I reached up to activate it with a touch from my right index finger but a spasm wracked my hand, making the fingers twist and curl grotesquely. Impulsively, I dropped my hand to my side and looked at the others. They had noticed the spasm, and I could see the pother in their eyes. Anger kindled inside me at the state of my hand and the embarrassment I felt. My impulse was to lash out at them verbally because I hated feeling weak and sensing people's pity, but I swallowed the anger and looked away, knowing that I felt alarm and disgust at my hand too.
"It will react to voice commands," Andronikos recovered quickly. I nodded, not wanting to say anything, and give the anger still burning in me a conduit. "I've got a tablet for you too," he added as he slid a similarly decorated black pad across the counter toward me.
I tried to avoid their eyes and touched the tablet with my useful left-hand fingers, bringing the screen to life. The tablet was nice, but a spasm shook my dead hand again and a shooting pain made me flinch. Andronikos was giving Ashara her coms and started explaining how they were linked, but his voice faded when he noticed my condition.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I don't want to talk about it," I muttered.
"It looks like you're in quite a bit of pain."
"I'm all right," I said as I stiffened up and looked him in the eye. "Carry on."
Andronikos eyed me suspiciously but went on explaining how Ashara's coms were only linked to mine, Pez', and the ship's for now because he was not sure of her status. The coms could be adjusted later if I wanted. Ashara did not have a wrist-com before, but Andronikos got her one anyway. It was similar to mine but had an adjustable colored band and bezel around the screen. She looked pleased as she slid it on and activated it with her finger. Andronikos also gave her a tablet like mine, but it was dark brown rather than black. He finished showing us how the coms were connected and that all of my old information had been transferred over.
"So, I've put both of your IDs behind encryption and multiple random hypernet IDs for security. The only way anyone can track you is if you purposely expose your actual ID to them. So don't do that."
"How would you do that?" Ashara asked.
"If you don't know, then I'm not inclined to tell you."
"Can I do it accidentally?"
"No," he said with a shake of his head, "you'd have to dig into the settings and find the physical ID on the device and then transmit it to someone."
After he finished his explanation, they both looked at me as if I was supposed to say something. "Thanks," I replied, "it looks like it took a bit of work."
"No problem," he shrugged. "Now we can all be less worried about getting spied on."
I saw Andronikos' eyes drift down to Ashara's chest and it irritated me, so I narrowed my eyes at the padawan and said "Don't you have some clothes to wear?"
The padawan looked at me in surprise. Her eyes followed my gaze down to her chest where her nipples were clearly standing out of the silky material. "They're in the cleanser," she replied candidly; seemingly unfazed by her exhibition.
Andronikos heard my comment and looked away, taking another swig of his drink.
"We shall have to get you some more," I replied.
"That would be nice. Can we go shopping?" Ashara asked excitedly. "I went shopping at a promenade the last time I was here, and it was so much fun."
"I don't know," I mumbled in a disinterested tone.
"There's a promenade about five minutes from here," Andronikos interjected. "It's about seven levels down and across the thoroughfare."
"Can't you just order something?" I countered.
"That's not nearly as fun," Ashara protested.
"You could do both," Andronikos added. "I've heard of a bazaar that lets you select items over the net, and then they ship or manufacture the items at an outlet near you. I'm sure they probably have one at the promenade."
"Wonderful," I muttered, not the least bit interested in going out amongst crowds and clutter in my current mood.
"How would that work?" Ashara asked, still excited about getting out and seeing the sites.
"Let me show you . . ." Andronikos said as he stepped up and took Ashara's tablet.
He proceeded to find the bazaar's hypernet site, and helped her start looking through the options. Ashara's excitement and Andronikos' friendly help irritated me, so I stepped away to look out the windows. The sky was hazy and a little dreary from cloud cover as I watched the traffic fly past in the channel. Pez drifted close by and gave me a few chirps. I ignored him, disappearing into my thoughts for a while. I was not happy with the notion of Andronikos getting friendly with the padawan, or more than friendly based on his interested gaze, not due to any sort of attraction to him on my part, but because it felt like an unnecessary complication. A more brooding thought drifted up from a darker place, reminding me that I planned to leave both Andronikos and Ashara in a few days, and that I should not care about them or potential complications. That thought sent me down a rabbit hole of conflicting feelings, such as being disappointed and chagrined by the notion of running away, against the desire to survive and the apparent hopelessness of my situation.
"Tishmy?" I heard Ashara call me out of my mental fog. "I've picked some things out, but I don't know how much I should buy."
"Get what you need," I replied, planning to stay in my thoughts and contemplate some more.
"Can you help me for a moment?" she asked.
Frustrated, I turned to move back to her; noticing that Andronikos had gone to his room. She had a list of things in her shopping cart, mostly toiletries and undergarments. "What do you need help with?"
"It needs a payment account," she replied, giving me a sheepish look.
I drew my tablet across the countertop and flipped through the menus with my finger until I found the personal account settings. Andronikos had one main account with all the money in it, and I was glad to see it was a sizable sum. I got distracted by the account balance and transaction history. It was not that I distrusted him, but it was a lot of money and I had a right to be cautious. Once I was satisfied that the money transfers looked correct, I found an expense account that I could share with the padawan. I moved some credits into the account and then sent her com a link to it, which she accepted.
"Oh, look at this," she said excitedly after a moment of fiddling with her tablet. She had found the holographic display for the bazaar and was sorting through shoes that were projected in 3D above the tablet. "There's an option to make it full size," she added, "and it has a fitting feature."
"How does that work?" I asked begrudgingly, allowing myself to get drawn into something more lighthearted.
She stood up, placed the tablet on the floor, and then stuck her bare foot into the holo-image. The image of the shoe adjusted around her. "That is so amazing," she said excitedly, "it even registers the size I need."
"I don't like them," I mumbled as I looked down at her feet, noticing that her white toenails stood out against her dark red toes. She had chosen an opened-toe platform wedge in a color that was too bright against her dark red skin.
"I don't either," she agreed while bending over to pick up the tablet, "it was just the first shoe on the list. I'm more of a boot person." After flipping through options for a bit she found the boots. "What about these?" she asked as a pair of knee-high leather boots appeared in the hologram.
"Whatever you like," I replied flatly, not interested in fashion at the moment.
"I don't really need boots, at least not now . . ." she glanced at me with an odd look in her eyes. "Do you think I need boots . . . I mean . . . where we are going?"
"We aren't going anywhere at the moment, and I'm not sure we ever will."
"Oh," she sighed, looking a little dejected. "I'm not sure how to react to that?"
Our eyes searched each other's briefly and then I looked away. "I have plenty of credits. Just get what you want."
"Okay," she replied after a pause, scratching a patch of white skin on her neck absently.
I looked more closely and noticed she had dry patches on her hands and face too. "Your skin is bothering you again?"
"Yeah," she mumbled, "the doctor's cream is gone. It wasn't as good as mine anyway. I was hoping to find some on Nar Shaddaa, but I didn't see it in the bazaar."
"You probably need to look in a drugstore for something like that."
"Can we?"
"Are you done with the bazaar?"
"I don't really need boots, but it would be nice to have a pair of slippers or flats to walk around in, and I could use some changes of clothes." She waited for me to respond, but I was looking out the windows and fighting off a spasm in my hand. "Oh," she gasped, "the clothes are full size as well. I wonder if it will . . ." there was an interruption as I heard her shift next to me. "Look, it fits clothes to you too."
I turned back to see her standing over her tablet and the hologram projecting a pink, loose-fitting shirt with a scooped collar around her pajama-clad frame. "The color clashes with your skin."
"How 'bout this," she switched the color to a gray that matched the pattern on her head tails and montrels.
"It's nice," I shrugged.
"I think you can arrange a whole outfit," she muttered, "I wonder if . . ." there was a pause as she fiddled with her wrist-com, "how fun, I can use my wrist to change the settings. Here's a pair of pants to go with it. What do you think?" She used her wrist-com to change the outfit and the hologram shifted, this time showing a pair of black cargo-style pants with the top.
"Looks good."
"It would work better if the pajamas weren't in the way," she frowned; noticing the hologram was trying to fit the clothes around the pajamas. "Do you want to help me pick stuff out in my bedroom?"
"No," was all I said. I did not want to explain that the ghosts in my head were feeding me lusty male thoughts and making me uncomfortable.
"Oh, well I guess it will let me change the sizes at the end when I put the order in."
For another twenty minutes, she put on a fashion show by changing holographic outfits and flicking through options. The virtual changing room was pretty cool, and if I had been in a better mood, I would have gotten more caught up in it. She chose several pairs of leggings and a pair of dress pants in black. I was surprised by the number of colors that went with her burgundy and gray skin tones. She chose a mint short sleeve top with a v-neck, a lacy bronze-colored blouse, and a mustard-colored loose-fitting sweater. She also bought a pair of house slippers so she did not have to go barefoot, and a pair of black flats as an alternative to her boots. It was evident that the girl liked shopping, and she went back and forth for a bit about closing the cart, probably because she was having too much fun trying things on.
She went to her room so that she could check her size without the pajamas, and I assumed that she would just check out and close the purchase. Instead, she dressed and came back out to the kitchen to tell me that there was an option to ship to a store, and one location was in the promenade Andronikos mentioned earlier. "Will you go with me?" she asked. "It would be fun to get out and see the sights for a bit."
I had no interest, but the idea of sulking alone in my room did not sound fun either. "How long is it going to take the order to be ready?"
"Four hours, it says. That's about dinnertime, so we can get a bite to eat before we come home."
"Sure," I nodded. "I'm going to my room; call me when you are ready to leave."
Back on the ship, the oppressive feelings seemed to bear down on me again. Luckily, I was sleepy and dozed off for a bit. The ghost dreams were dark and chaotic, leaving me tense and unrested when my phone chimed to wake me up.
Ashara was waiting for me in the kitchen with Pez. I wanted to hire a shuttle to take us directly to the promenade, but Ashara had asked Pez to plot a walking path, and there was a pedestrian bridge over the channel. The walk would add a half hour to our trip, but I reluctantly agreed and we headed out. I still had no idea what sector of Nar Shaddaa we were in, but the area was nice and the walk was uneventful. As we neared the promenade, the crowds grew thicker and the noise of talking and music grew. Large, colorfully lit arches signaled the entrance to the promenade, and we moved forward under them with the flow of bodies. After a while of walking past shops and kiosks, I looked over to see a grin on Ashara's face.
"Isn't this amazing?" she said. "Look at all the different cultures and styles represented." She pointed at several specialty shops along our path.
"It's a little crowded," I replied as we weaved through people standing near a popular technology store.
"This reminds me of the last time I was here," Ashara sighed wistfully. "We used to go out and walk in the promenade every evening . . . not this one . . . we were in the Republic sector, but it was similar."
"We?" I asked.
"A fellow padawan and I," she answered before taking a deep breath. "Can you smell the food court? You must be starving; do you want to get something to eat first?"
"No," I sighed. My appetite seemed like it was gone for good. "Let's get the shopping out of the way first."
"Okay."
Ashara had her tablet out and was following a map to the bazaar. The store was crowded with shoppers, and it took some time for an attendant to greet us. We were led to the back of the store and into a small review room. I sat on the bench along the wall and Ashara paced eagerly. When her things were brought to us, she looked through them and tried everything on.
"Dee-zwip," Pez chirped approvingly when she put on the mustard-colored sweater and her black dress pants.
"Thank you, Pez," she replied to the droid who was drifting around her like a fashion photographer looking for the best angle. "What do you think?" she asked me.
"It's nice," I said. She looked a little frustrated by my lack of enthusiasm. Honestly, it made me a little jealous that I did not buy something, but my state of mind was too dour to shop. Also, I was glad that she had clothes on again because the changing room seemed close, and the ghost's lubricious thoughts were hard to ignore.
She decided to wear the sweater outfit and packed up her old clothes with the rest of her order in the shopping bags. Even shucking her boots for the flats. We made our way through the crowded bazaar and back into the mall where Ashara consulted her tablet to find a drug store that had her skin lotion. When we got there, I wandered around the rows aimlessly while Ashara went off with Pez to get help with her specific lotion.
"Thank the Force," she huffed when she finally appeared next to me. "They didn't have my exact lotion, but this is a competing brand that looks like it has the same ingredients." She held up the bag from her purchase as she spoke.
I nodded and turned to head out of the store into the main mall. We paused again for Pez and Ashara to consult the map about the location of the food court. As we made our way through the crowd toward the restaurants, Ashara noticed a jewelry store.
"Can we go in and look around?"
I nodded, and we maneuvered through the crowd into the small shop. The store seemed overwhelming, with shelves and walls covered with every type of jewelry imaginable. I never wore jewelry, not because I did not like it, but out of habit. The only type of jewelry that slaves were allowed to wear was a shock collar. Ashara seemed to know exactly what she was looking for and headed toward the back of the store. Past all of the shelves and walls of goods, there were showcases with drawers underneath. The jewelry in the cases was much more elaborate and was arranged in sets with many pieces. Ashara paused in front of one set that was made of deep red gems like the color of her skin set in bright gold. There was some sort of headpiece, earpieces, a necklace, bangles, anklets, and lots of rings.
I gave her a sideways look and she noticed it. "Would you really wear that much?"
"It's called a ma'viida lehta. My ancestors wore it for weddings and other ceremonies. It's beautiful." She spent a moment gazing into the shielded case. "My mother would have had one, but they never found it after her death."
"Do you want it?" I asked, sensing her interest.
"I couldn't ask that of you," she replied with a surprised shake of her head, "look how expensive it is, and I wouldn't wear it enough."
I had not checked the price before and was glad she declined. I had no idea that people would pay that much for jewelry. The padawan moved down the row of cases and got the attention of a saleswoman. She tried on many different pieces of jewelry before settling on a set of rings and bangles.
"I know these aren't necessary but I would like to buy them," she stated. "I have the credits and can pay you back."
"Don't worry about it," I replied, happy that she decided on reasonably priced items.
We left the jewelers and headed for the food court. She was excited to see a Rylothian restaurant and asked if we could eat there. I agreed, not too concerned about food, and we settled into our seats. Ashara ordered her meal as if she had known the restaurant all her life and seemed worried when I told her we could share the meal because I was not that hungry. Strangely, it seemed like she cared about my health, which was a new experience for me. Most of the time people around me did not care or were competing against me, so I felt little compassion from others.
She seemed to get more nervous as we sat waiting for the food, and I felt her eyes assessing me. "You still look upset," she stated after a quiet moment, "is it your hand?"
"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled.
She heard the tone in my voice and decided to let the topic go. Instead, she picked up the jewelry bag to try on her jewelry, putting several rings on her fingers. I looked around at the customers in the restaurant and she entertained herself with her rings for a while, but eventually she seemed motivated to comment again. "You know, I might be able to help with the pain."
I looked into her eyes and a flash of irritation entered my mind. Why should I need her pity? my darker side pondered. Then, my hand began to cramp painfully, and I lifted it off my lap and laid it on the table for her to see. "Can you fix this?" I spat in frustration.
She looked down at my twitching fingers and then back to my eyes. "Maybe," she replied a little less confidently. "The padawan friend I mentioned. She can use her Force aura to soothe and heal. She taught me how she does it, but I'm not nearly as good. I could try it on you if you want."
I was going to say no; hating that I was so needy and vulnerable, but the look in her eyes seemed sincere. "Sure," I sighed, not expecting much. She reached out with her hands, and I flinched back.
"It would work better if I touched you," she said calmly. I nodded reluctantly, and she gently set her thin, red fingers on my elbow. Her touch was warm, and I felt her aura in the Force begin to focus. There was no immediate relief, but as we sat there and she meditated, gently moving her fingers down to my hand and then back to the medical band on my forearm, I began to feel the hand relax. She kept meditating until our food arrived, and when she finally withdrew to begin eating, I felt somewhat better.
The moment seemed a little awkward; like we experienced something closer than our relationship accorded, so I tried to focus on the food. Despite my lack of interest, I made an effort to eat a little bit of the main course. Ashara had all sorts of side dishes; sauces, orzo, soup, a type of flatbread, and a plate of mixed seasoning. She seemed to sense the awkwardness between us as well, and tried to fix it by talking; explaining the different types of food and why she liked it.
"Zi'Pao would really like this," she said after finishing another bite of the spiced meat. "She's my padawan friend, and this is one of her favorite dishes. She's a Twi'lek, and Rylothian is their ancestral cuisine."
"Did you leave her at the enclave?" I asked curiously; not remembering any padawan by that name in the records.
Her countenance seemed to shift. "No, I haven't seen her in years."
"What happened?"
"She left the order," Ashara said quickly before falling silent. I thought she was going to leave it there as she took a spoonful of her soup, but then the padawan sighed and continued. "Zi'Pao struggled with lightsaber training. She didn't like the conflict of combat. About three years ago, she decided to go back to Tython and study horticulture." Her voice grew quiet, and she went back to eating.
Ashara seemed to grow reflective, and she stopped talking as we finished our food and then began to move back through the crowds to the promenade's exit. She agreed to a shuttle back, which cut our return time considerably. As we stepped into the private lift to our place, I looked over at the padawan and noticed she was still contemplative about the friend she had mentioned. I started our little shopping trip frustrated and annoyed, but it revealed something that I otherwise would not have seen. Ashara was a person with feelings and aspirations, not simply the padawan that I was using to further my goals. She had a life, one that I had crashed into; possibly ruining. It made me more determined to get her back to where she belonged.
At the same time, however, I looked down at my ruined hand and realized that it seemed calmer and less painful after Ashara had meditated over it. The ghosts in my head seemed more distant as well, and the oppressive feelings clouding me were not as bad. She noticed me watching her, and I glanced away. I could not explain it, but somehow, the presence of the padawan was calming to me. Maybe it was the light-side, dark-side mixture? a thought drifted through my mind. Whatever it was, it complicated things. It seemed like she could help me; that I needed her. If I sent her home, I would lose that.
When we entered the penthouse, I could hear Andronikos talking loudly in his office/room and went to see what was happening. It gave me the chance to put some distance between myself and the padawan, which my darker side wanted; not liking the possible dependency that I was feeling toward her.
"No, that's not going to work," Andronikos barked as I poked my head into his open door. "I want the sector checked, which is what you told me you could do."
"I've already done so," an unknown voice echoed back.
"Then do it again, and better this time. I was told it's there."
"I'll do it, but it's going to cost you. No more freebies."
"Just do a good job. I want to see a full scan."
"It's not there," the unknown voice replied. "You're wasting our time."
"We'll see about that." Andronikos cut the com and looked over to see me watching him.
"What's that about?" I asked curiously.
"Personal business," he replied in a frustrated voice.
"You seem to have a lot of personal business going on," I replied with a lift of my eyebrow.
"Is there a problem with that?"
"No," I answered with a shrug before turning and heading to the Intrepid. I needed some quiet time.
I was in my room trying to rest when the door chimed. I heard the chime a second time before reacting.
"Who is it?" I asked into the com.
"It's me," Andronikos' gravelly voice rattled through the speaker.
I had sensed this moment was coming; had seen it in the way he looked at me earlier. The last thing I wanted to do was have a heart-to-heart with him - or anyone, but he deserved answers. Reluctantly I activated the door with my com and sat up on the edge of my bed.
Andronikos stepped into the room just far enough to let the door swish closed behind him. We looked at each other for a moment before he spoke. "I know the look of somebody preparing to run." He put up a gentle hand when he saw my eyes flash at him. "That's not a criticism . . . I've done my share of running when the moment required it. Hell, if I were you, I'd have been hiding out in the outer rim somewhere months ago." He paused, sensing that I was still upset at his statement, even though it was perfectly accurate.
"What's your plan?" he added thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure yet."
"The ships are problematic," he mumbled as he looked around my room. "The Imperials know you have them and they scream 'military', something that's not going to help you blend in with the locals, whomever they end up being."
"I was thinking of selling them," I replied flatly.
His eyes looked at me sharply. "I suppose that means our little partnership is at an end." I did not answer him, but my stoic posture made him realize his statement was correct. "It's better that way," he shrugged. "I'm not in the running mood and would be bored to tears hiding out on some outback planet."
"Are you still hoping to find the Sky Princess?"
"It's a pipe dream," he mumbled, "but there are a few leads and I've made some intriguing contacts here on Nar Shaddaa. It's not much . . . but way more interesting than being on the run." He turned and paced a few steps. "I'm sure the two ships will fetch you a decent rainy-day fund."
"You deserve compensation for your help. How much do you think is fair?"
"I trust you," he said as he turned back to me. "You've been square with me in the past."
We looked at each other awkwardly again. There were clearly things he was wanting to say that remained silent, and the look he was measuring me with seemed to be contrary to his more appeasing voice. At that moment I sensed that we did not know one another as well as we thought. I knew Andronikos' story and some of his motivations, but we had stayed mostly casual with one another. It was a business relationship. One born of circumstances that now seemed to be moving us apart. I could not say that I would miss him; I did not know him well enough to feel like I was missing anything.
"I'm easy enough to part ways with," he stated with a soft shrug of his shoulders, "I had plans before we met that I could go back to, but the brute hibernating in the medical bay won't be so easy."
"I haven't figured that part out yet."
"You could take him with you. No one will challenge you with him as your sidekick."
"That's the problem," I countered. "There's no laying low or blending in with a seven-foot monster lurking around saying he's going to eat everyone. It kind of leaves a strong impression on people."
"So, are you going to ditch him before he wakes up?" Our eyes locked but I did not reply. "Considering how angry he was the last two times you left him behind, I can't imagine he'll accept your plan without a fight."
"That would be the reason for leaving before he wakes."
Andronikos laughed softly. "Gonna sell him as a fixture on the ship? I'd hate to be the new owner when the beast wakes up and finds out you're not around."
Despite his laugh, Andronikos had brought up a real problem. I knew Khem would wake up angry and want to argue with me for leaving him to go to Taris and then Quesh on my own. He would be even angrier at the idea of parting ways, having told me on many occasions that his blood bond to me could not be severed and that his honor would be forever marred if he failed to uphold it.
"I'll let you figure that one out," Andronikos mumbled after a pause. "There are others, too. I mean, you've made contacts with people that seem to like you. Aren't they going to be disappointed in your decision?"
"I'm good at disappointing people," I snapped in frustration.
"That's not the way I see it," he replied; deciding to pace a few steps toward me. "There's the group who helped you on Quesh, and then there's Watcher One and Elios. The commander of the orbital station above Taris was impressed by your effort to help her. Heck, even my friends made out like bandits. They'd jump at the chance to work with you again." I shook my head when our eyes met, sensing that he was disagreeing with my plan. "You could lean on them . . . let them help you."
"I don't trust them," I countered, "and even if I did, it would put them in harm's way."
"I think they're smart enough to know that. If they help it's on them . . ."
"Would you stay with me, knowing my chances are slim?"
"Gonna put me on the spot like that, huh?" He paused and looked at me hard. "You're down, I get it, but I've seen what you're capable of . . ."
"Was capable of," I countered.
"You can't beat the galaxy alone," he continued. "If you let people help, teamed up with others who could make you stronger, I would stay."
"They can't help me with Darth Thanaton, and neither can you," I stated flatly. Andronikos continued to stare at me hard. "I can't use my hand!" I yelled out sharply as I lifted my numb right arm and shook it at him. "It's useless! Do you understand that? I can't fight Thanaton, not with a useless arm." I glanced at my hand, which decided to spasm uncomfortably at that moment.
"Okay," Andronikos sighed, "I didn't come here to argue with you."
"Why did you, then?" I asked sharply.
"To know what your intentions are . . . I mean I guessed well enough, but I wanted to confirm it." He paused a moment in thought, measuring me again with his stare. "Also, I think you should let the padawan go, she's too young and innocent to be caught up in all of this."
"Young and innocent," I muttered, "remember that the next time you're leering at her. Besides, she's not that much younger than me," I snapped.
"What are you going to do, convert her to a Sith?"
"Why does it matter to you?"
"It shouldn't," he replied, "but for some reason, it doesn't sit right. She's not like you, I'm sure you can sense that. The padawan deserves her life back and you can give it to her. We can drop her off near the Republic sector easily enough."
"Did she ask for your help?" I was irritated with his presumption and the fact that he felt Ashara was different from me. He was not wrong, again, but it still irritated me.
"No, it just seemed like I needed to say something."
"Well, you've said your mind."
"So, you're not going to let her go?"
"It's out of my hands."
"You're the only reason she's here. You have complete control . . ."
"I already told her to go back to Taris," I interjected "I returned her communicator and made her contact the Jedi. She told me she didn't want to go back."
"She's confused," Andronikos shook his head slowly, "she's impressed by you . . . or maybe afraid to do something to anger you . . ."
"I don't want to take her with me." The words left my mouth, but part of me was not in agreement with them. Of all the people around me at the moment, it was the padawan with whom I connected. Running away from my troubles made me sad and felt like failure. I did not want to be alone in some strange place dealing with all the negative thoughts in my head. Ashara was an enigma, and I did not know her very well, but for some reason, she helped me, and if anything, with her I would not be alone.
"You could force her to return, and you should."
"Let me deal with it," I complained.
He looked at me sharply but did not continue his argument. "When do you want to be on your way?"
"As soon as possible."
"I can help with selling your ships, and I might be able to find some decent hideouts."
"I'd appreciate that," I said with a nod.
Andronikos turned and stepped toward the door but then stopped and looked back. "I'm sorry about the arm," he added gently, "did the doc give you any advice before you left Quesh?"
"She told me to go to the Imperial Sector and seek medical care from the military base, but I don't want to risk it."
"Well, I might have someone who could look at it, but it's unconventional and probably risky." He waited for me to respond but I did not know what to say. The wound made me feel broken and vulnerable, and having strangers poke and prod me before declaring more bad news seemed pointless. "It was just a thought. Let me know if you change your mind."
With that he turned and left, leaving me with a whole mess of thoughts and emotions to sort out. Andronikos was right, and it made me angry to admit it. Everything was making me angry, and if I was not so depressed that anger might have motivated me. Instead, it just worsened my mood. After our talk, I was even more committed to running away, even though quiet thoughts in the recesses of my mind seemed to disagree. Impulsively, I walked over to my satchel and pulled out the padawan's Republic communicator. It was a risk, bringing it with me even though I left all the other electronics aboard the recon ship, but for some reason I had.
Before I thought about it any further, I activated the com, waiting for someone to answer at the other end.
"Ashara is that you?" the female voice asked before my image came into focus in the holo-com.
"No," I said dryly. The woman's face was clear in my hologram and I could see it change to dismay. "I need to talk to Jedi Master Ryen."
"Hold on," she replied sharply.
It took a while before Master Ryen's face appeared in the holo-com; I could hear others in the room so I knew he was not alone. "Is Ashara all right?" he asked when he recognized me.
"At the moment she is upset."
"What have you done?" he snapped.
"I have done nothing. Apparently, she is growing melancholy over her friends and personal things."
"Let her go," he urged.
"In time, maybe," I mused, "but right now I want her comfortable."
The Jedi Master looked at me shrewdly. "There is nothing that Ashara can do for you," he complained.
"I'm not convinced of that."
"What do you want with her? Maybe I can take her place."
"You, Master Jedi, are much less agreeable, and unlikely to help me at anything I endeavor. I didn't call on you to argue," I snapped as I saw him preparing a rebuttal. "Your padawan is upset about her circumstances and you can help put her at ease. She could use her personal effects; their familiarity will help calm her."
"Why would I do anything to help you?"
"You wouldn't, of course, I've already seen your hospitality toward me, but you would help your padawan; if you cared about her. I will send a location and locker number on Nar Shaddaa through this com. Have her things placed in that cabinet in two days at 15:00 local time and I will ensure she gets them."
"What are your plans for Ashara? How do we know she's okay?"
"If you care about Ashara do as I request." I clicked off the com and pulled up a detailed holo-map of Nar Shaddaa. I took the time to set up the drop location and transmit it to the Jedi. In two days, they would be on Nar Shaddaa and I could send Ashara to them. One more complication dealt with.
That only left Khem Val and the ghosts in my head, and I thought about how to handle them as I readied for bed. I was exhausted from lack of decent sleep and crawled into bed hoping for some peace. Unfortunately, things were worse than even the night before. In the stillness, the dark thoughts clouding my mood seemed to become more oppressive, and the ghosts rose to the surface. I could feel Darth Andru taunting me, and my arm began to throb and spasm again. At some point it became unbearable, and in a half-sleep, I remembered walking into the conference room and sitting near the artifacts. They did not help with my mood or painful arm, but the relics did seem to drive the ghosts away. Through difficulty, I managed to doze off, and in that shallow sleep, I felt a presence drifting near. It was not the ghosts, but it was familiar. There seemed to be hope in that presence, but its recognition was always just out of reach.